“I am expected at Madame de la Marque’s, and I must go, as I am to meet the Bishop of Montrouge, to whom I want to speak, but I hope I shall eventually be able to help you.  Come here the day after tomorrow, you will find me alone; above all, do nothing before you see me.  Farewell.”

I left her full of hope, and resolved to follow her advice and hers only in the troublesome affair in which I was involved.

The Bishop of Montrouge whom she was going to address on an important matter, the nature of which was well known to me, was the Abbe de Voisenon, who was thus named because he often went there.  Montrouge is an estate near Paris, belonging to the Duc de la Valiere.

I saw Mdlle.  X. C. V. the following day, and contented myself with telling her that in a couple of days I hope to give her some good news.  I was pleased with her manner, which was full of resignation and trust in my endeavours.

The day after, I went to Madame du Rumain’s punctually at eight.  The porter told me that I should find the doctor with my lady, but I went upstairs all the same, and as soon as the doctor saw me he took his leave.  His name was Herrenschwand, and all the ladies in Paris ran after him.  Poor Poinsinet put him in a little one-act play called Le Cercle, which, though of very ordinary merit, was a great success.

“My dear sir,” said Madame du Rumain, as soon as we were alone, “I have succeeded in my endeavours on your behalf, and it is now for you to keep secret my share in the matter.  After I had pondered over the case of conscience you submitted to me, I went to the convent of C—–­where the abbess is a friend of mine, and I entrusted her with the secret, relying on her discretion.  We agreed that she should receive the young lady in her convent, and give her a good lay-sister to nurse her through her confinement.  Now you will not deny,” said she, with a smile, “that the cloisters are of some use.  Your young friend must go by herself to the convent with a letter for the abbess, which I will give her, and which she must deliver to the porter.  She will then be admitted and lodged in a suitable chamber.  She will receive no visitors nor any letters that have not passed through my hands.  The abbess will bring her answers to me, and I will pass them on to you.  You must see that her only correspondent must be yourself, and you must receive news of her welfare only through me.  On your hand in writing to her you must leave the address to be filled in by me.  I had to tell the abbess the lady’s name, but not yours as she did not require it.

“Tell your young friend all about our plans, and when she is ready come and tell me, and I will give you the letter to the abbess.  Tell her to bring nothing but what is strictly necessary, above all no diamonds or trinkets of any value.  You may assure her that the abbess will be friendly, will come and see her every now and then, will give her proper books—­in a word, that she will be