"Ah," at last murmured Angelique, her eyes on the design, "the
Procession of the Miracle. But that will come in a few days, and we
shall not have time enough to finish it."
The Huberts shook their heads. In truth, so delicate a piece of work
required the most minute care and attention. Yet Hubertine turned
towards her daughter as she said:
"I could help you, my dear. I might attend to the ornaments, and then
you will only have the figure to do."
Angelique continued to closely examine the figure of the saint, and was
deeply troubled. She said to herself, "No, no." She refused; she would
not give herself the pleasure of accepting. It would be inexcusable on
her part thus to be an accomplice in a plan, for it was evident that
Felicien was keeping something back. She was perfectly sure that he was
not poor, and that he wore a workman's dress simply as a disguise; and
this affected simplicity, all this history, told only that he might
approach her, put her on her guard, amused and happy though she was,
in reality, transfiguring him, seeing in him the royal prince that he
should be; so thoroughly did she live in the absolute certainty of the
entire realisation of her dream, sooner or later.
"No," she repeated in a half-whisper, "we should not have the needed
time.
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