On Sunday morning, July 12th, Nicholas persuaded Madeleine and Gabrielle to attend high mass at the church of S. Eustache, for the altar of which he had carved a figure of the Blessed Virgin and Child; and, as he considered this his masterpiece, he was exceedingly anxious that the little Normandy girl should see it. He had thrown out vague hints on several previous occasions, but Madeleine had put them aside at once; on this occasion she yielded, to the great delight of Nicholas, whose round face beamed with satisfaction, which he also expressed to Gabrielle by sundry friendly nods behind his sister's back. Gabrielle had completely won the young man's heart by her delicacy in refraining from joining the two other women in their chorus of disparagement of Werner Stauffacher, Erni of Melchthal, Walter Fürst, the great Tell, and, above all, of the illustrious Bruder Klaus. Nay, further, she had actually listened to the story of Arnold von Winkelried, without remonstrance, and she apparently derived real pleasure from hearing the old corporal prose over his reminiscences of Switzerland. 'What a magnificent country it must be!' said the girl once to Nicholas. 'Magnificent!' echoed the young man, throwing up his hands; 'oh, mademoiselle, you really must see it some day.' After mass, and after that Nicholas had pointed out all the principal excellencies of his statue to Gabrielle, who tried hard to see them, in order to please him, they left the church. 'And now,' said Madeleine, 'we have come this long trudge to gratify you, let us go to the Palais Royal and visit my aunt Louison for my pleasure. Gabrielle has never seen the gardens, and, now that we are so close to the palace, we may just as well go on there. I propose we have some refreshment at one of her tables, and then saunter into the gardens of the Tuileries.' 'Very well,' said Nicholas, joyously; 'the day is so beautiful, I shall be delighted. Ah! it will be only too charming.' 'You have become all at once very obliging,' said Madeleine, bluntly. They made their way to the Palais Royal, where Madame Louison, Madeleine's aunt, kept a restaurant. M. Louison, in a white apron, white jacket and white cap, stood at the head of the staircase, which descended to the kitchen, before which was a bar, with liqueurs and syrups, presided over by madame. 'Well,' said the lady to Madeleine, 'I am ravished to see you;' then, revolving on her heel, she abruptly charged on her husband,--'Coco! what are you idling there for? Down with you into the depths at once.' 'But, mamma!' 'No "buts" and no "mammas" to me!' cried the lady; 'down, Coco, down.' Immediately the white man vanished into the abyss.