At this moment the vestment on which Angelique was at work was a chasuble of white satin, the cross of which was made by a sheaf of golden lilies intertwined with bright roses, in various shades of silk.

In the centre, in a wreath of little roses of dead gold, was the monogram of the Blessed Virgin, in red and green gold, with a great variety of ornaments.
For an hour, during which she skilfully finished the little roses, the silence had not been broken even by a single word.

But her thread broke again, and she re-threaded her needle by feeling carefully under the frame, as only an adroit person can do.

Then, as she raised her head, she again inhaled with satisfaction the pure, fresh air that came in from the garden.
"Ah!" she said softly, "how beautiful it was yesterday! The sunshine is always perfect." Hubertine shook her head as she stopped to wax her thread.
"As for me, I am so wearied, it seems as if I had no arms, and it tires me to work.

But that is not strange, for I so seldom go out, and am no longer young and strong, as you are at sixteen." Angelique had reseated herself and resumed her work.