“And what about me, Sire?” said I.  “What, may it please your Majesty, shall I get from the distribution of all these favours and emoluments?” I laughingly asked the question.

“You, madame?” he replied.  “To you I made a present of my heart, which is not altogether worthless; yet, as it is possible that, when this heart shall have ceased to beat, you may have to maintain your rank, I will give you the charming retreat of Petit-Bourg, near Fontainebleau.”

Saying this, his face wore a sad look, and I was sorry that I asked him for anything.  He is fond of giving, and of giving generously, but of his own accord, without the least prompting.  Had I refrained from committing this indiscretion, he might, possibly, have made me a duchess there and then, renaming Petit-Bourg Royal-Bourg.

The new abbess of Fontevrault, caring less now for claustral seclusion, equipped her new residence in very sumptuous style.  In a splendid carriage she came to thank the King and kiss hands.  With much tact and dignity she encountered the scrutiny of the royal family and of the Court.  Her manners showed her to have been a person brought up in the great world, and possessed of all the tact and delicacy which her position as well as mine required.

As she embraced me, she sighed; yet, instantly recovering herself, she made the excuse that so many ceremonious greetings and compliments had fatigued her.

It was not long before the King joined us, who said, “Madame, I never thought that there was much amusement to be got by wearing the veil.  Now, you must admit that days in a convent seem very long to any one who has wit and intelligence.”

“Sire,” replied my sister, “the first fifteen or twenty months are wearisome, I readily confess.  Then comes discouragement; after that, habit; and then one grows resigned to one’s fetters from the mere pleasure of existence.”

“Did you meet with any good friends among your associates?”

“In such assemblies,” rejoined the Abbess, “one can form no attachment or durable friendship.  The reason for this is simple.  If the companion you choose is religious in all sincerity, she is perforce a slave to every little rule and regulation, and to her it would seem like defrauding the Deity to give affection to any one but to Him.  If, by mischance, you meet with some one of sensitive temperament, with a bright intellect that matches your own, you lay yourself open to be the mournful sharer of her griefs, doubts, and regrets, and her depression reacts upon you; her sorrow makes your melancholy return.  Privation conjures up countless illusions and every chimera imaginable, so that the peaceful retreat of virgins of the Lord becomes a veritable hell, peopled by phantoms that groan in torture!”

“Oh, madame!” exclaimed the King.  “What a picture is this!  What a spectacle you present to our view!”