When Mme. Alexandre finally rose to go, and had kissed the upturned brow of her hostess, she went by an inner door and rear balcony. And when Chester and Beloiseau began to take leave their host said to Chester: "You dine with M. De l'Isle Tuesday. Well, if you'll come again here the next evening we'll attend to--that business." "Wouldn't that be losing time? I can just as well come sooner." "No," said madame, "better that Wednesday." Chester was nettled, but he recovered when the ironworker walked with him around into Bienville Street and at his _pension_ door lamented the pathetic decay of the useful arts and of artistic taste, since the advent of castings and machinery. The pair took such liking for each other's tenets of beauty, morals, art, and life that Chester walked back to the De l'Isle gates, and their parting at last was at the corner half-way between their two domiciles. Meanwhile madame was saying to her spouse, "Aha! you see? The power of prayer! Ab-ove all, for the he'pless! By day the fo' corner' of my room, by night the fo' post' of my bed, are----" "Yes, _cherie_, I know." "Yes, they're to me for Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John! Since three days every time I heard the cathedral clock I've prayed to them; and now----!" "Well, my angel? Now?" "Well, now! He's dining there next Tuesday!" "Truly. Yet even now we can only hope----" "Ah, no! Me, I can also continue to supplicate! From now till Wednesday, every time that clock, I'll pray those four _evangelistes_! and Thursday you'll see--the power of prayer! Oh, 'tis like _magique_, that power of prayer!" VIII On Tuesday evening Chester, a country boy yet now and then, was first at the De l'Isles'. Madame lauded him. "Punctualitie! tha'z the soul of pleasure!" She had begun to explain why her other guests included but one young lady, when here they came. First, the Prieurs, a still handsome Creole couple whom he never met again. Then that youthful-aged up-town pair, the Thorndyke-Smiths. And last--while Smith held Chester captive to tell him he knew his part of Dixie, having soldiered there in the Civil War--the one young lady, Mlle. Chapdelaine. As Chester turned toward her she turned away, but her back view was enough to startle him. "Aline," the hostess began as she brought them face to face, but whatever she said more might as well have been a thunderbolt through the roof. For Aline Chapdelaine was SHE.