you will find the advantage of it."

"That is all very fine," thought Durtal, "but when it comes to putting
the advice into practice it is quite another thing. Are not these mere
old women's remedies, precious ointments, quack medicines, for which the
pious and virtuous have a weakness?"

They walked on in silence across the forecourt of the palace to the
priest's rooms. As they went in, they found Madame Bavoil at the foot of
the stairs, her arms in a tub full of soap-suds. As she rubbed the
clothes, she turned to look at Durtal, and, as if she could read his
thoughts, she mildly asked,--

"Why, our friend, wear such a graveyard face when you took the Sacrament
this morning?"

"So you heard I had been to Communion?"

"Yes, I went into the crypt while Mass was going forward, and saw you go
up to the Holy Table. Well, shall I tell you the truth? You do not know
how to address our Holy Mother."

"Indeed!"

"No. You are shy when She is doing her best to put you at your ease; you
creep close to the wall when you ought to walk boldly up the middle
aisle to face Her. That is not the way to approach Her!"

"But if I have nothing to say to Her?"

"Then you simply chatter to Her like a child; some pretty speech, and
She is satisfied. Oh, these men! How little they know how to pay their
court, how greatly they lack little coaxing ways, and even honest
artfulness! If you can invent nothing on your own part, borrow from
another. Repeat after the Venerable Jeanne de Matel:

"'Holy Virgin, this abyss of iniquity and vileness invokes the abyss of
strength and splendour to praise Thy preeminent Glory.' Well, is that
pretty well expressed, our friend? Try; recite that to Our Lady and She
will unbind you; then prayer will come of itself. Such little ways are
permitted by Her, and we must be humble enough not to presume to do
without them."

Durtal could not help laughing.

"You want me to become a trickster, a sneak in spiritual life!" said he.

"Well, where would be the harm? Does not the Lord know when we mean
well? Does not He take note of our intentions? Would you, yourself,
repulse anyone who paid you a compliment, however clumsily, if you
thought he meant to please you by it? No, of course not."

"Here is another thing," said the Abbe, laughing. "Madame Bavoil, I saw
Monseigneur this morning; he grants your petition and authorizes you to
dig in as many parts of the garden as you choose."

"Aha!" and amused by Dur