And, raising her eyes to heaven, she added,—
“And that is a clear proof, that, but for the direct intervention of Providence, the poor creature would never have denounced the crime which he had witnessed.”
Immediately, however, she returned to earthly things, and asked,—
“But will you not relieve us soon of this poor idiot, who is a heavy charge on our hospital? Why not send him back to his village, where he found his support before? We have quite a number of sick and poor, and very little room.”
“We must wait, sister, till M. de Boiscoran’s trial is finished,” replied the magistrate.
The lady superior looked resigned, and said,—
“That is what the mayor told me, and it is very provoking, I must say: however, they have allowed me to turn him out of the room which they had given him at first. I have sent him to the Insane Ward. That is the name we give to a few little rooms, enclosed by a wall, where we keep the poor insane, who are sent to us provisionally.”
Here she was interrupted by the janitor of the hospital, who came up, bowing.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Vaudevin, the janitor, handed her a note.