"'Dthee vy--ee-lit. Dah-oon-a hin hay grin and-a shad-y bade--A mo-dest-a vy-ee-lit gr[)o]o--Hits-a stallk whoz baint hit hawngg-a hits hade--Has hif-a too hah-ed-a frawm ve-[)o]o. Hand h-yet it whoz a lo-vly flow'r--Hits-a co-lors-a brah-eet and fair-a--Heet maheet-a h[=a]ve grass-ed a rozzy bow'r--Heenstade-a hof hah-ee-dingg there"-- "Stop!" cried Bonaventure; "stop! You pronounciate' a word faultily!" He turned to the visitor. "I call not that a miss; but we must inoculate the idea of puffection. So soon the sly-y-test misp'onounciating I pass to the next." He turned again: "Next!" And a black-haired girl began in a higher key, and very slowly:-- "Yate there eet whoz cawntaint-a too bulloom--Heen mo-dest-a teent z-arrayed--And there-a heet sprade-a heets swit pre-fume-a--Whit-hin thee sy-y-lent-a shade"-- "Stop! Not that you mistook, but--'tis enough. Sir, will you give yourself the pain to tell--not for my sake or reputation, but to the encouragement of the chil'run, and devoid flattery--what is yo' opinion of that specimen of reading? Not t'oubling you, but, in two or three word' only--if you will give yo'self the pain"-- "Why, certainly; I think it is--I can hardly find words--it's remarkable." Bonaventure started with joy. "Chil'run, do you hear? Remawkable! But do you not detect no slight--no small faultiness of p'onounciating?" "No, not the slightest; I smile, but I was thinking of something else." The visitor's eye, wandering a trifle, caught Chat-oue giving him one black look that removed his disposition to smile, yet he insisted, "No, sir; I can truthfully say I never heard such a pronunciation." The audience drank his words. "Sir," cried the glad preceptor, "'tis toil have p'oduce it! Toil of the teacher, in_dust_ry of the chil'run! But it has p'oduce' _beside_! Sir, look--that school! Since one year commencing the A B C--and now spelling word' of eight syllabl'!" "Not _this_ school?" "Sir, you shall see--or, more p'operly, hear. First spelling!" "Yes," said the stranger, seeing Sidonie rise, "I'd like to hear that class;" and felt Chat-oue looking at him again. CHAPTER XI. LIGHT, LOVE, AND VICTORY. The bell tapped, and they came forth to battle. There was the line, there was the leader. The great juncture of the day was on him. Was not here the State's official eye? Did not victory hover overhead? His reserve, the darling regiment, the flower of his army, was dressing for the final charge. There was Claude. Next him, Sidonie!--and Etienne, and Madelaine, Henri and Marcelline,--all waiting for the word--the words--of eight syllables! Supreme moment! Would any betray? Banish the thought! Would any fail?