And here the conversation ended. They sat together, these two women, listening to the incessant beating of the heavy waves on the cliff far below, and to the tap, tap, of the rain upon the windows; but neither found it in her heart to speak again. Alixe was shading her bird from blue into green, and Eleanore sat with folded hands, her eyes looking far away, musing upon the nothingness of her life. Suddenly there came a clamor at the door. Somewhat startled, Eleanore called admittance, and immediately David the dwarf walked into the room, stepped to the right of the doorway, and ushered in his companion, announcing her gravely,— “Sœur Celeste from the Couvent des Madeleines.” The sub-prioress, her white cloak and veil damp and stringing with rain, came slowly into the room and courtesied, first to Eleanore, then to Alixe. Madame rose hastily, in some surprise, and went forward. “Give you God’s greeting, good sister,” she said. The nun returned the salutation, and then, with some hesitation, indicated the little dwarf in a gesture that showed her desire that he should leave the room. Madame accordingly motioned him away, and when he was gone, turned to the nun with a hint of anxiety on her face. The new-comer did not hesitate in her mission. Leaning over, she asked eagerly,— “Madame, is Angelique here, with you?” Eleanore looked at her blankly. “Laure?—Laure is with you. Laure is—What sayest thou, woman?” Sœur Celeste resignedly bent her head. For some seconds nothing was said. Alixe, her face grown ashen, her body changed to ice, rose, and moved to the side of madame. Then she asked softly, “What hath happened, good sister?” “Angelique—Laure—the demoiselle—is not in the convent. We have searched for her everywhere. Her veil and wimple were found in her cell upon the bed. Beyond this there is no trace of her. This morning she came not to the church for prime, and we thought she had overslept. She hath so much fasted and prayed of late that Reverend Mother granted indulgence, and bade us let her rest. At breaking of the fast Sœur Eloise was despatched to her cell, and returned with word that she was not there. Since that hour even the daily services have been suspended, while we sought for her. In the garden we found footprints,—those of a woman, and of a man. Perchance they were hers—yet—” “It is a lie! That is a lie!” burst from Eleanore’s white lips. “Woman, woman, unsay thy words! No man hath ever seen her,—my Laure!” “I said it not, Madame Eleanore; I but said mayhap,” ventured the gentle sister, timidly. But Eleanore did not hear her. White, rigid, her every muscle drawn tense, she stood there staring before her into space; while Alixe, feeling this scene to be too intimate even for her presence, glided slowly from the room.