"Father," said she, "will they cut his moustache off if he enters the cloister?" "Undoubtedly." She tried to imagine Durtal clean-shaven, and she concluded with a laugh,-- "I do not think it will improve his beauty." "Oh, these women!" said the Abbe, shrugging his shoulders. "And what, in short," asked she, "may we hope for from this journey?" "It is not of me that you should ask that, Madame Bavoil." "Very true," said she, and clasping her hands she murmured,-- "It depends on Thee! Help him in his poverty, remember that he can do nothing without Thine aid, Holy Temptress of men, Our Lady of the Pillar, Virgin of the Crypt." THE END.