“She was just half a minute too late.”
Many months passed on. The French were everywhere victorious, and by October, the rainy season beginning, all of the troops were recalled to the neighborhood of the city of Algiers.
By that time Sister Claire was quite well, and apparently her terrible experience had done her no harm at all. She was deeply interested in the results of the campaign, and heard with delight of the rescue of Christian captives, and the chances that the nation of corsairs was likely to be no more a scourge to civilization. She also knew that the general in command had gone back to France on sick leave, and General de Bourmont was temporarily in command. And one morning, sitting in the garden and looking toward the glorious Bay of Algiers, she saw a smart French frigate drop her anchor, and one of the convalescent officers said to her:—
“That is ‘La Minerve.’ She brings out the decorations for the campaign. General de Bourmont is sure to be made lieutenant-general.”
A day or two after that, one morning, the superior came to Sister Claire’s room—for she was a guest of her own order then—and said, smiling proudly:
“What think you, sister? We are especially invited to attend at the distribution of decorations to-morrow morning. Here is a letter from General de Bourmont; and he particularly wishes you to be present, he says, on account of your services to the army. But the rest of us are not forgotten either, and the general speaks in the kindest manner of what little we have been able to do for our poor soldiers.”
The superior did not offer to show Sister Claire the letter from General de Bourmont, and Sister Claire did not ask to see it; but, like the superior, she glowed with natural pride at the compliment paid their order.
All that day the sisters were in a flutter; and among themselves, when Sister Claire was not present, they said: “How glorious! how honorable to our order! We must give especial thanks to the Blessed Lady for this.”
Sister Claire, however, was purposely kept in the dark; and the next morning she was the least excited of the party of twenty sisters who took their way, two and two, toward the great plain on the south of the city.