Chester was nettled, but he recovered when the ironworker walked with him around into Bienville Street and at his pension door lamented the pathetic decay of the useful arts and of artistic taste, since the advent of castings and machinery. The pair took such liking for each other's tenets of beauty, morals, art, and life that Chester walked back to the De l'Isle gates, and their parting at last was at the corner half-way between their two domiciles.
Meanwhile madame was saying to her spouse, "Aha! you see? The power of prayer! Ab-ove all, for the he'pless! By day the fo' corner' of my room, by night the fo' post' of my bed, are----"
"Yes, chérie, I know."
"Yes, they're to me for Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John! Since three days every time I heard the cathedral clock I've prayed to them; and now----!"
"Well, my angel? Now?"
"Well, now! He's dining there next Tuesday!"
"Truly. Yet even now we can only hope----"
"Ah, no! Me, I can also continue to supplicate! From now till Wednesday, every time that clock, I'll pray those four évangélistes! and Thursday you'll see--the power of prayer! Oh, 'tis like magique, that power of prayer!"