"
Angelique shuddered, and pressed still closer to him, as if in fear.
"Mere Malheur would not tell me the meaning of that star, but bade
me, if a saint, to watch and wait; if a sinner, to watch and pray.
What means Algol, Le Gardeur?" she half faltered.
"Nothing for you, love. A fig for all the stars in the sky! Your
bright eyes outshine them all in radiance, and overpower them in
influence. All the music of the spheres is to me discord compared
with the voice of Angelique des Meloises, whom alone I love!"
As he spoke a strain of heavenly harmony arose from the chapel of
the Convent of the Ursulines, where they were celebrating midnight
service for the safety of New France. Amid the sweet voices that
floated up on the notes of the pealing organ was clearly
distinguished that of Mere St. Borgia, the aunt of Angelique, who
led the choir of nuns. In trills and cadences of divine melody the
voice of Mere St. Borgia rose higher and higher, like a spirit
mounting the skies. The words were indistinct, but Angelique knew
them by heart.
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