uncle, Monsieur de Boisfrelon, who gave her the money for the purpose, and died in the rooms you now occupy.  This tranquil neighborhood is near the archbishop’s palace, where our dear abbe has duties with the cardinal.  That was one of the chief reasons why Madame agreed to her uncle’s wish.  Here, in this cloistral life, the fearful misfortunes which overwhelmed her for twenty-six years have been brought to a close.  Now you can understand the majesty, the grandeur of this victim—­august, I venture to call her.”

“Yes,” said Godefroid, “the imprint of all the blows she has received remains and gives her something, I can scarcely describe it, that is grand and majestic.”

“Every wound, every fresh blow, has increased her patience, her resignation,” continued Alain; “but if you knew her as we know her you would see how keen is her sensibility, how active the inexhaustible tenderness of her heart, and you would almost stand in awe of the tears she had shed, and the fervent prayers she had made to God.  Ah! it was necessary to have known, as she did, a brief period of happiness to bear up as she has done under such misfortunes.  Here is a tender heart, a gentle soul in a steel body hardened by privations, by toil, by austerities.”

“Her life explains why hermits live so long,” said Godefroid.

“There are days when I ask myself what is the meaning of a life like hers?  Can it be that God reserves such trials, such cruel tests, for those of his creatures who are to sit on the morrow of their death at his right hand?” said the good Alain, quite unconscious that he was artlessly expressing the whole doctrine of Swedenborg on the angels.

“And you tell me,” said Godefroid, “that in prison Madame de la Chanterie was put with—­”

“Madame was sublime in her prison,” said Alain.  “For three whole years she realized the story of the Vicar of Wakefield, and was able to convert many of the worst women about her.  During her imprisonment she observed the habits and customs of these women, and was seized with that great pity for the sorrows of the people which has since filled her soul and made her the angel of Parisian charity.  In that dreadful Bicetre of Rouen, she conceived the plan to the realization of which we are now devoted.  It was, she has often told us, a delightful dream, an angelic inspiration in the midst of hell; though she never thought she should realize it.  When, in 1819, peace and quietude seemed really to return to Paris, her dream came back to her.  Madame la Duchesse d’Angouleme, afterwards the dauphine, the Duchesse de Berry, the archbishop, later the chancellor, and several pious persons contributed liberally the first necessary sums.  These funds have been increased by the addition of our own available property, from which we take only enough for our actual needs.”

Tears came into Godefroid’s eyes.

“We are the ministers of a Christian idea; we belong body and soul to its work, the spirit of which, the founder of which, is the Baronne de la Chanterie, whom you hear us so respectfully call ‘Madame.’”