"Neither more nor less. It was not very poetical; but so it was. However, during that time I have had some hours of leisure which I have devoted to a work that has been the dream of my life, and the thought of which has cheered me, in the forests of Sweden, and under the burning skies of the Isle of France. My object is to reveal the divine intelligence to the human race, through the universal relation between all beings. From physical order I elicit physical good; from the good, the moral, and from the moral, God. And the title of the book is to be the _Harmonies of Nature_. I was working at it when you came in, and meditating on the wise providence which, while giving to different beings different organs, has supplied the apparent inequality by special qualities and counterbalancing advantages. I intend also to treat of the harmonies of the stars. Oh! how beautiful are our nights in France!" "And I, too, thought so, till I had seen the nights in Italy," exclaimed the young stranger. "There every star is a living token of friendship or of love. Two friends parted by long exile each pledge themselves to look at the same star at the same hour, and the light thus shared is a link between them. The young girl gives to the bright stars of the summer nights her own name and that of her lover, till the whole firmament is full of Bettinas and Ciprianas, Francescas and Giottos. Should one of these tender links be severed by death, the still remaining one is comforted in her sorrow by seeing the bright memorial of her beloved still shining on the borders of that heavenly horizon, where their meeting will be forever." "This is indeed a tender harmony. Yes, love is every where. But," continued Bernardin, delighted at being understood; "but tell me, do you yourself write? With mental energies such as yours, why should you not cast upon the troubled waters of this age some thought that may yet be the fructifying seed to be found after many days. All soldiers write well." "I do write a little, sir," and the young officer blushed as he answered; "since your kind encouragement has anticipated my request, and thus emboldened me to make it, I venture to ask you to cast your eye over a few pages written to beguile the hours of a lonely midnight watch. You will remember it is the book of a soldier, and one almost a foreigner." "I thank you for the confidence reposed in me," said Saint Pierre, "and I am persuaded the friend will have no need to bias the judge in the impartial opinion that you have a right to claim from me." The young officer now rose, and with a request to be allowed to repeat his visit, and a cordial, though respectful pressure of Saint Pierre's hand, took his leave, and long after the garden-gate had closed behind him, Bernardin stood watching the cloud of dust in which had disappeared his young visitor, and the steed on which he galloped back to Paris.