came quite close to Ange and leant over him;
and then a peace greater than before came
over him, and the sleep of unconsciousness
returned.

What noise was that that startled Ange
out of his sleep? How heavy old Jeannette
trod—she who always wore list shoes in the
house! Ah, Ange must have overslept
himself, and Jeannette must have on her sabots
to go to market! But that sound—it was a
key turning in a lock; and then, the sound
of huge heavy doors being thrown open.
"Where am I?" cried little Ange, getting up
and rubbing his eyes; and then he stared
round him, first amazed and then aghast. In
the cathedral he had slept all night—in the
cathedral! And then came the terrible
thought of how old Jeannette would scold
him, and how displeased Father Mathurin
would be. And then he sat down and cried,
fairly overpowered by this new trouble,
dreading to go home, for fear of old Jeannette,
and not knowing what in the world he should
do. But then Ange dried his tears for the
thought of his dream came into his mind
and prayed that he might be guided to do
that which was right; and then he rose
and took off his little chorister's gown, and
folded it up, as he usually did after service,
and he smoothed his hair as well as he
could, that he might not look disorderly, and
walked out of the wide-opened church-door
with a strengthened heart, prepared to make
a full confession to Father Mathurin of how
he had fallen asleep during his sermon, and
slept all night in the cathedral.

CHAPTER II.

ANGE ran all the way to Father Mathurin's;
he would not stop a moment, or even walk
slowly, for fear his courage should fail him.
He intended to throw himself first at Father
Mathurin's feet, and, if he should be so
fortunate as to procure his pardon, to prevail
upon him to intercede with old Jeannette,
of whom poor Ange stood so greatly in
dread.

When Ange arrived at Father Mathurin's
house, he was surprised to find a group of
neighbours round the door, for it was yet
very early, and he had quite forgotten that it
was the day when the boys of the choir were
paid their weekly salary. A mother or sister
came with each boy; for though Father
Mathurin gave the money into their own
hands, yet, when all had been paid, he came
to the door, spoke to the parents, and saw
that the money was safely delivered up to
them, that it might not be ill spent. But
poor Ange had forgotten the importance of
the day, his heart was so full of his dream,
and he thought it was some especial malice
on the part of old Jeannette to make his
disgrace more public. Poor Ange's heart sunk
within him, and he would fain have run
away; but there seemed a strange new
strength, not his own, supporting him, and
he made his way manfully through the little
crowd. Jeannette stood on the door-step,
talking to the neighbours; but, when Ange
came near her, she caught hold of him, and,
turning his little face towards her, said,
"Why, how bright thou art! Where hast
thou been so early?" And when Ange had
passed, he heard her say to the neighbours,
"Is he not a beautiful boy, our Ange?"
Ange was quite bewildered. It seemed as
though he was still dreaming. How strange
that Jeannette should be so kind! How
strange that she should never have missed
him! And so Ange, lost in these conjectures,
tried to find his way to Father Mathurin's
room, but he was too late: the boys were all
coming out.

Ange was very glad it was over, for he
dreaded being disgraced before the other
boys, and he knew he had done very wrong
to fall asleep during Father Mathurin's
sermon; so he crept quietly into Father
Mathurin's room, and waited till he should come
back again.

Now Ange had a little room all to himself,
at Father Mathurin's house, and every night
Jeannette put his supper there while he was
at the evening service; for she loved to spend
the evening with Margot, and then they
gossipped together merrily about their
neighbours, which they would not have liked to do
so well if Ange had been with them in the
kitchen; and Father Mathurin always spent
the evening alone, reading and writing, and
it would have annoyed him very much to
have such a little boy as Ange in the room
with him. So Ange always spent the evening
quite alone; and so it was that neither
Jeannette nor Father Mathurin knew that he had
been out of the house all night.

"Ange!" and Ange started up hastily, and
his heart throbbed very much, for it was
Father Mathurin who had entered the room,
and the tone of his voice was angry; "How
is it that thou hast lain in bed so late this
morning? dost thou not know how many
temptations laziness leadeth thee into?"

"Father," answered Ange, more and more
surprised, "I have never been in bed all night.
I am very, very sorry, but I fell asleep during
your sermon, and I slept all night in the
cathedral, and it was not till Pierre opened
the doors this morning that I awoke and ran
here. Do, do forgive me," and little Ange
clasped his hands together and looked up in
Father Mathurin's face.

"Poor, poor child," and something like a
tear glistened in his eye, and his heart smote
him for this poor little one; for who but a
desolate and uncared-for child could have
been a whole night away from his home and
none miss him?

Ange had no kind mother or sister to take
his money, so that he always gave his weekly
salary back to Father Mathurin, but this day
Father Mathurin told Ange to keep it.

"Jeannette tells me," he said, " that thou