She had visited her aunt in the Convent, and had
learned the new hymn composed by her for the solemn occasion.
As they listened with quiet awe to the supplicating strain,
Angelique repeated to Le Gardeur the words of the hymn as it was
sung by the choir of nuns:
"'Soutenez, grande Reine,
Notre pauvre pays!
Il est votre domaine,
Faites fleurir nos lis!
L'Anglais sur nos frontieres
Porte ses etendards;
Exauces nos prieres,
Protegez nos remparts!'"
The hymn ceased. Both stood mute until the watchman cried the hour
in the silent street.
"God bless their holy prayers, and good-night and God bless you,
Angelique!" said Le Gardeur, kissing her. He departed suddenly,
leaving a gift in the hand of Lizette, who courtesied low to him
with a smile of pleasure as he passed out, while Angelique leaned
out of the window listening to his horse's hoofs until the last tap
of them died away on the stony pavement.
She threw herself upon her couch and wept silently. The soft music
had touched her feelings.
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