Mother Sainte-Perpetue was seated before a large cylindrical-fronted desk in the centre of an apartment simply but comfortably furnished.  An excellent fire burned within the marble chimney, and a soft carpet covered the floor.  The superior, to whom all letters addressed to the sisters or the boarders were every day delivered, had just been opening she first, according to her acknowledged right, and carefully unsealing the second, without their knowing it, according to a right that she ascribed to herself, of course, with a view to the salvation of those dear creatures; and partly, perhaps, a little to make herself acquainted with their correspondence, for she also had imposed on herself the duty of reading all letters that were sent from the convent, before they were put into the post.  The traces of this pious and innocent inquisition were easily effaced, for the good mother possessed a whole arsenal of steel tools, some very sharp, to cut the pager imperceptibly round the seal—­others, pretty little rods, to be slightly heated and rolled round the edge of the seal, when the letter had been read and replaced in its envelope, so that the wax, spreading as it melted, might cover the first incision.  Moreover, from a praiseworthy feeling of justice and equality, there was in the arsenal of the good mother a little fumigator of the most ingenious construction, the damp and dissolving vapor of which was reserved for the letters humbly and modestly secured with wafers, thus softened, they yielded to the least efforts, without any tearing of the paper.  According to the importance of the revelations, which she thus gleaned from the writers of the letters, the superior took notes more or less extensive.  She was interrupted in this investigation by two gentle taps at the bolted door.  Mother Sainte-Perpetue immediately let down the sliding cylinder of her cabinet, so as to cover the secret arsenal, and went to open the door with a grave and solemn air.  A lay sister came to announce to her that the Princess de Saint-Dizier was waiting for her in the parlor, and that Mdlle.  Florine, accompanied by a young girl, deformed and badly dressed, was waiting at the door of the little corridor.

“Introduce the princess first,” said Mother Sainte Perpetue.  And, with charming forethought, she drew an armchair to the fire.  Mme. de Saint Dizier entered.

Without pretensions to juvenile coquetry, still the princess was tastefully and elegantly dressed.  She wore a black velvet bonnet of the most fashionable make, a large blue cashmere shawl, and a black satin dress, trimmed with sable, to match the fur of her muff.

“To what good fortune am I again to-day indebted for the honor of your visit, my dear daughter?” said the superior, graciously.

“A very important recommendation, my dear mother, though I am in a great hurry.  I am expected at the house of his Eminence, and have, unfortunately, only a few minutes to spare.  I have again to speak of the two orphans who occupied our attention so long yesterday.”