oney 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 Duchess