n my face. The count, who had known
her, laughed, but I begged him to restrain himself.

A moment after, the poor wretch began again. She raved against me madly,
and begged the mother-superior to send me away, as I had come there to
damn her.

The good lady chid her with all a true mother's gentleness, and told her
to leave the room, adding that all who came there only desired that she
should be saved eternally. She was stern enough, however, to add, that no
one had been a greater sinner than she, and the poor Magdalen went out
weeping bitterly.

If it had been my fortune to enter Milan at the head of a victorious
army, the first thing I should have done would be he setting free of this
poor captive, and if the abbess had resisted she would have felt the
weight of my whip.

When Magdalen was gone, the mother-superior told us that the poor girl
had many good qualities, and if God willed that she should keep some
particle of sense she did not doubt her becoming a saint like her
patroness.

"She has begged me," she added, "to take down the pictures of St. Louis
de Gonzaga and St. Antony from the chapel wall because she says they
distract her fearfully. I have thought it my duty to yield to her
request, in spite of our confessor, who says it's all nonsense."

The confessor was a rude churl. I did not exactly tell the abbess that,
but I said enough for a clever woman as she was to grasp my meaning.

We left the sorrowful place in sadness and silence, cursing the sovereign
who had made such ill use of her power.

If, as our holy religion maintains, there is a future life before us all,
Marie Therese certainly deserves damnation, if only the oppressions she
has used towards those poor women whose life is wretched enough at the
best. Poor Mary Magdalen had gone mad and suffered the torments of the
damned because nature had given her two of her best gifts--beauty, and an
excellent heart. You will say she had abused them, but for a fault which
is only a crime before God, should a fellow-creature and a greater sinner
have condemned her to such a fearful doom? I defy any reasonable man to
answer in the affirmative.

On our way back to the castle Clementine, who was on my arm, laughed to
herself once or twice. I felt curious to know what she was laughing at,
and said,--

"May I ask you, fair countess, why you laugh thus to yourself?"

"Forgive me; I was not amused at the poor girl's recognizing you, for
that must have