"Reverend Mother," said the old man, rising. "Grant me but one favour for the sake of old times. Be so kind as to tell Mademoiselle Gabrielle what I have said." "I will tell her, of course, but it will make no difference. Those who are called to the religious life are inspired by a love that is higher than any mere human emotion. It is a live coal from the altar of God, a spark of that love which brought the divine Saviour to earth to live and die for a lost world. And when one thus gives oneself in the spirit of true devotion, one finds a peace and rest which the world cannot give, and bliss ineffable on the bosom of the divine Redeemer. In our love for Him and for His cause all human loves are embraced and glorified--we give them up that we may receive them again, purified and transfigured, in the beauty of holiness. Ah, Monsieur, the religious life is a good life; and afterwards, in the eternal world, the faithful will live with God unto the ages of the ages. Amen!" "Amen!" said the old man, solemnly. "Give unto them eternal rest, O God; and may perpetual light illumine them!" "Adieu, Annette," said Michel, a moment later. "It has been good to see you again." "Yes, and for me also," said Mother Sainte Anne. "But tell me, Michel. Did you come for the sake of your young friend only, or for Gabrielle?" "No, Annette. It was for your sake most of all. I have been on the point of coming for many years, and the other motive was the occasion, the pretext, merely." Mother Sainte Anne’s face lighted up with a radiant smile; and through a mist of tears Michel Gamache saw again the youth and loveliness of former years, and was satisfied. *CHAPTER XX* *THE ROBBERY* "There, my nephew," said Mère Tabeau, as the two emerged from the forest surrounding the log castle of Michel Gamache. "Behold the den of the beast. He has gone away for a day or two, permitting us to make a little exploration. Very considerate of him, was it not?" "But there is nobody here--no dog, even." "No, my good nephew, not even a dog. It is a sorcerer, the inhabitant of this place, a species of wolf, you know; and wolves have no love for dogs. There are no domestic animals of any kind; and no wild beasts either, except the sorcerer himself and some of his cousins, who come from the forest now and then." "Wolves?" exclaimed Pamphile. "Even so," she sneered. "But do not fear, my brave nephew; they spend the day in the recesses of the forest, and do not come out until the evening twilight. Fear nothing."