Gabrielle's resemblance to his mother seemed to him an order divinely given.

He did not betray his love for the one in loving the other; this new love continued HER maternity.

He contemplated that young girl, asleep in the cottage, with the same feelings his mother had felt for him when he was there.

Here, again, was a similitude which bound this present to the past.

On the clouds of memory the saddened face of his mother appeared to him; he saw once more her feeble smile, he heard her gentle voice; she bowed her head and wept.