The principal ambulance, which Gabriel and Arnauld reached at this moment, was quite near the ramparts, and not far from the Faubourg d'Isle, which was the most dangerous point, and the one consequently where relief was most essential. It was a large building which had been used before the siege as a storehouse for provisions, but had been placed at the disposal of the surgeons when the need became urgent. The mild summer night made it possible to leave the door in the centre open, to renew and freshen the air. From the foot of the steps, which led up to an outside gallery, Gabriel was able to look into this abode of suffering, where lamps were always kept burning. It was a heart-rending spectacle. Here and there were a few blood-stained beds prepared in great haste; but such luxuries were reserved for the privileged few. The greater part were stretched on the floor, on mattresses or coverlets, or in some cases on straw simply. Sharp or plaintive moans were continually calling the surgeons or their assistants from all sides; but they, in spite of their zeal, could not hear them all. They attended to dressing those wounds which were most in need of it, and performed the most pressing amputations; the others had to wait. The trembling of fever or the convulsions of agony made the poor wretches twist and turn on their pallets; and where in some corner one of them lay at full length, motionless and without a sound, the winding-sheet laid upon his face told only too plainly that he would nevermore move or complain. Before this sad and heart-rending picture the strongest and hardest hearts would have lost their courage and their callousness. Even Arnauld du Thill could not repress a shudder; and Gabriel's face became as pale as death. But all at once a sad smile appeared upon the young man's pallid countenance. In the midst of this Inferno overflowing with suffering, like that described by Dante, a calm and radiant angel, a sweet and lovely Beatrix, burst upon his sight. Diane, Sister Bénie rather, passed tranquilly and sadly in and out among these poor sufferers. Never had she seemed more beautiful to the dazzled Gabriel. Indeed, at the fêtes of the court, gold and diamonds and velvet did not so well become her as did the coarse woollen dress and white nun's stomacher in that dismal ambulance. With her lovely profile, her modest demeanor, and her look of consolation and encouragement, she might have been taken for the very incarnation of Pity, descending to this home of suffering. The most vivid imagination of a Christian soul could not picture her in more admirable guise; and nothing could be so affecting as to see this peerless beauty lean over the emaciated faces disfigured by anguish, and this king's child holding out her lovely hand to these nameless, dying soldiers.