“Don’t you?  Do you mean you are not going to present that note again?”

“Not now,” replied the admirer and probably the echo of Mother Marie-des-Anges, but using her own language; “I don’t blackmail a family in affliction.  I should remember it on my death-bed, and doubt God’s mercy.”

“Why don’t you make yourself an Ursuline, now that we are here?”

“Ha, if I only had the courage!  I might be happier if I did.  But, in any case, I am not going to Gondreville; Mother Marie-des-Anges has undertaken to arrange that matter for me.”

“Foolish girl!  Have you given her that note?”

“I wanted to tear it up, but she prevented me, and told me to give it to her and she would arrange it honestly for my interests.”

“Very fine!  You were a creditor, and now you are a beggar.”

“No, for I have given the money in alms.  I told madame to keep it for her poor.”

“Oh! if you add the vice of patronizing convents to your other vice of fishing in rivers, you will be a pleasant girl to frequent.”

“You won’t frequent me much longer, for I go to-night, and leave you to your dirty work.”

“Bless me! so you retire to the Carmelites?”

“The Carmelites!” replied Antonia, wittily; “no, my old fellow, we don’t retire to the Carmelites unless we leave a king.”

Such women, even the most ignorant, all know the story of La Valliere, whom they would assuredly have made their patroness if Sister Louise-of-the-Sacred-Mercy had been canonized.

I don’t know how Mother Marie-des-Anges managed it, but early this morning the carriage of the old Comte de Gondreville stopped before the gate of the convent; and when the count again entered it he was driven to the office of his friend Grevin; and later in the day the latter said to several friends that certainly his son-in-law was too much of a fool, he had compromised himself with that Parisian woman, and would undoubtedly lose his election.

I am told that the rectors of the two parishes in Arcis have each received a thousand crowns for their poor from Mother Marie-des-Anges, who informed them that it came from a benefactor who did not wish his name known.  Sallenauve is furious because our partisans are going about saying that the money came from him.  But when you are running before the wind you can’t mathematically measure each sail, and you sometimes get more of a breeze than you really want.

Monsieur Maxime de Trailles makes no sign, but there is every reason to suppose that this failure of his candidate, which he must see is now inevitable, will bury both him and his marriage.  But, at any rate, he is a clever fellow, who will manage to get his revenge.