"With Jules, I doubt not, you will find reconciliation easy. He has been at death's door. During his delirium your name was forever on his lips, sometimes with the fiercest reproaches, but more often with words of love and tenderest endearment. One must know my nephew well, must know the sublime self-abnegation of which his soul is capable, in order to comprehend his love for you. Many a time has he said to me: 'If it were necessary for me to-morrow to sacrifice my life for Archie, I would die with a smile on my lips, for I should be giving him the only worthy proof of my love.' Such love, in a heart so noble as his, is not soon or easily extinguished. He will rejoice to hear your justification from my lips, and you may be sure that I will spare no effort to reunite you. Since recovering from his delirium he has never mentioned your name; and as he is yet too weak to discuss a subject that would excite so much emotion, I must wait till he gets stronger. I shall hope to have good news for you at our next interview. Meanwhile, farewell till I see you again!" "Pray for me, madam, for I have great need of it," exclaimed Archie. "That is what I do daily," answered the nun. "They say, perhaps wrongly, that people of the world, and young officers particularly, have more need of prayer than we; but as for you, Archie, you must have greatly changed if you are not one of those who have least need of it," she added, smiling affectionately. "Farewell once more, and God bless you, my son!" The superior succeeded in satisfying Jules with Archie's explanation. About a fortnight after Archie's first visit, Jules was awaiting him, filled with a nervous anxiety to prove to him that all the old love was yet warm in his heart. It was understood that there should be no allusion to certain events, too painful for either to dwell upon. Archie was ushered into a little chamber which Jules, as nephew of the lady superior, was occupying in preference to certain officers of higher rank. Jules stretched out his arms and made a vain effort to rise from his armchair. Archie threw himself upon his neck, and for a time neither spoke. D'Haberville, after controlling his emotion with an effort, was the first to break silence: "The moments are precious, my dear Archie, and we must endeavor, if possible, to lift the veil which hangs over our future. We are no longer children; we are soldiers fighting under glorious banners, brothers in love but enemies upon the field of battle. I have grown ten years older during my sickness. I am no longer the broken-hearted young fool who rushed upon the enemy's battalions seeking death. No, my dear brother, let us live rather to see better days. Those were your last words when you handed over my bleeding body to the care of my grenadiers.