Bossuet.  It would be as uncharitable to doubt the conviction of Mademoiselle de Duras as that of M. le Marechali.

Fontanges.  I have heard some fine verses, I can assure you, monseigneur, in which you are called the conqueror of Turenne.  I should like to have been his conqueror myself, he was so great a man.  I understand that you have lately done a much more difficult thing.

Bossuet.  To what do you refer, mademoiselle?

Fontanges.  That you have overcome quietism.  Now, in the name of wonder, how could you manage that?

Bossuet.  By the grace of God.

Fontanges.  Yes, indeed; but never until now did God give any preacher so much of his grace as to subdue this pest.

Bossuet.  It has appeared among us but lately.

Fontanges.  Oh, dear me!  I have always been subject to it dreadfully, from a child.

Bossuet.  Really!  I never heard so.

Fontanges.  I checked myself as well as I could, although they constantly told me I looked well in it.

Bossuet.  In what, mademoiselle?

Fontanges.  In quietism; that is, when I fell asleep at sermon-time.  I am ashamed that such a learned and pious man as M. de Fenelon should incline to it, as they say he does.

Bossuet.  Mademoiselle, you quite mistake the matter.

Fontanges.  Is not then M. de Fenelon thought a very pious and learned person?

Bossuet.  And justly.

Fontanges.  I have read a great way in a romance he has begun, about a knight-errant in search of a father.  The King says there are many such about his court; but I never saw them nor heard of them before.  The Marchioness de la Motte, his relative, brought it to me, written out in a charming hand, as much as the copybook would hold; and I got through, I know not how far.  If he had gone on with the nymphs in the grotto, I never should have been tired of him; but he quite forgot his own story, and left them at once:  in a hurry (I suppose) to set out upon his mission to Saintonge in the pays de d’Aunis, where the King has promised him a famous heretic-hunt.  He is, I do assure you, a wonderful creature:  he understands so much Latin and Greek, and knows all the tricks of the sorceresses.  Yet you keep him under.

Bossuet.  Mademoiselle, if you really have anything to confess, and if you desire that I should have the honour of absolving you, it would be better to proceed in it, than to oppress me with unmerited eulogies on my humble labours.

Fontanges.  You must first direct me, monseigneur:  I have nothing particular.  The King assures me there is no harm whatever in his love toward me.

Bossuet.  That depends on your thoughts at the moment.  If you abstract the mind from the body, and turn your heart toward heaven—­