What need had he of knowing, since he could foresee the future? In fact, he was making a collection of predictions concerning the restoration of the monarchy, and could cite from memory all the important ones. I can remember a good many of them, having heard them so often. The most celebrated of them all was that from the Abbey of Orval, which had predicted the downfall of Napoleon, the return of the Bourbons and even the reign of Louis-Philippe and the war. How then, could it have been mistaken in the apostrophe which Abbé Heurtevant would whisper in a moving tone, bringing tears from the eyes of the ladies. _Come, young prince, leave the island of captivity ... unite the lion with the white flower_. He had found a subtle interpretation of the island of captivity and the lion, which on the first investigation had been obscure. I was however in no haste to have the young prince obey this injunction, because of the events which were bound to follow, namely, the conversion of England and of the Jews, and to finish up with, Antichrist. Antichrist terrified me: he also, like Death in my Bible, was to ride, on a pale horse. “The young prince, indeed,” grandfather would sneer when I related all these marvels to him, for he refused to be present at the assemblies over which Abbé Nostradamus presided, “young prince of sixty springs!” There were also the visions of a certain Rose-Colombe, a Dominican nun, deceased upon the Italian coast. A great revolution was to burst out in Europe, the Russians and Prussians would turn their churches into stables, and peace would hot appear again until the lilies, descendants of Saint Louis, were again blossoming upon the throne of France, which would happen. _Which would happen_ closed the paragraph, proving that it was not a mere hypothesis, as learned men might construe it, but an incontestable truth, proved by ecstatic visions. “Yes, the lilies will bloom again,” Aunt Deen loved to repeat, for she attached especial credit to the sayings of Sister Rose Colombe. This conviction caused her to rush up and downstairs all the more proudly, since she might suppose that her services would be needed. She had a habit of accompanying the innumerable labours to which, without respite, she gave herself, with interjections and exclamations. We could hear her psalmodies as she swept or scoured, for she turned her hand to everything. “They will bloom again, to the salvation of religion and of France.” The Abbé did not stop at predictions which re-established monarchs among ourselves. His solicitude extended even over unhappy Poland, and one evening he triumphantly brought in a Roman newspaper, in which was recorded the apparition of the Blessed Andrew Bobola, who informed a monk of the restoration of that kingdom, after a war which would involve all nations. “At last Poland is saved,” he concluded in a tone of satisfaction. “Poor Poland, it is high time!” chimed in Aunt Deen, who had compassion upon all unfortunates.