She has deigned to grant me a little place in her esteem; pray tell her that this first favour has somewhat spoiled me, and that now I ask for more than this, for a place in her affections.  Madame de Thianges and Madame de Nevers are aware of my respect and attachment for them, and they approve of this, for they have engraved their names and crests on my plantain-trees at Maintenon.  Such inscriptions are a bond to bind us, and if no mischance befall, these trees, as I hope, will survive me.

I am, madame, etc., Maintenon.

CHAPTER LXI.

Mademoiselle d’Amurande.—­The Married Nun.—­The Letter to the Superior.—­Monseigneur’s Discourse.—­The Abduction.—­A Letter from the King.—­Beware of the Governess.—­We Leave Fontevrault.

Amoung the novices at Fontevrault there was a most interesting, charming young person, who gave Madame de Mortemart a good deal of anxiety, as she thought her still undecided as to the holy profession she was about to adopt.  This interested me greatly, and evoked my deepest sympathy.

The night of our concert and garden fete she sang to please the Abbess, but there were tears in her voice.  I was touched beyond expression, and going up to her at the bend of one of the quickset-hedges, I said, “You are unhappy, mademoiselle; I feel a deep interest for you.  I will ask Madame de Mortemart to let you come and read to me; then we can talk as we like.  I should like to help you if I can.”

She moved away at once, fearing to be observed, and the following day I met her in my sister’s room.

“Your singing and articulation are wonderful, mademoiselle,” said I, before the Abbess; “would you be willing to come and read to me for an hour every day?  I have left my secretary at Versailles, and I am beginning to miss her much.”

Madame de Mortemart thanked me for my kindly intentions towards the young novice, who, from that time forward, was placed at my disposal.

The reading had no other object than to gain her confidence, and as soon as we were alone I bade her tell me all.  After brief hesitation, the poor child thus began: 

“In a week’s time, a most awful ceremony takes place in this monastery.  The term of my novitiate has already expired, and had it not been for the distractions caused by your visit, I should have already been obliged to take this awful oath and make my vows.

“Madame de Mortemart is gentle and kind (no wonder! she is your sister), but she has decided that I am to be one of her nuns, and nothing on earth can induce her to change her mind.  If this fatal decree be executed, I shall never live to see this year of desolation reach its close.  Perhaps I may fall dead at the feet of the Bishop who ordains us.

“They would have me give to God—­who does not need it—­my whole life as a sacrifice.  But, madame, I cannot give my God this life of mine, as four years ago I surrendered it wholly to some one else.  Yes, madame,” said she, bursting into tears, “I am the lawful wife of the Vicomte d’Olbruze, my cousin german.