artres at her mother's knees, in tears, and
begging permission to retire to the Abbey des Chelles. Her mother turned
to me, and said, 'What do you think of this, madame?' 'I think,' I
replied, 'that we can perform our devotions equally well in any place
and that all depends on our own preparations;' but hearing my words,
Mademoiselle de Chartres redoubled her prayers, and with so much
earnestness that I said to her mother, 'It is for you to decide.' 'Oh,'
replied the duchess, 'we cannot prevent this poor child from performing
her devotions.' 'Let her go then,' I replied, 'and may God grant that
she goes in that intention.' 'I swear to you, madame,' said Mademoiselle
de Chartres, 'that I go for God alone, and that I am influenced by no
worldly idea.' Then she embraced us, and yesterday morning at seven
o'clock she set out."

"I know all that, since I was to have taken her there," replied the
regent. "Has nothing happened since then?"

"Yes, yesterday evening she sent back the carriage, giving the coachman
a letter addressed to you, to her mother, and to me, in which she says
that finding in the cloister that tranquillity and peace which she
cannot hope for in the world, she does not wish to leave it."

"And what does her mother say to this resolution?"

"Her mother!" replied madame. "To tell you the truth, I believe her
mother is very glad, for she likes convents, and thinks it a great
piece of good-luck to have a daughter a nun; but I say there is no
happiness where there is no vocation."

The regent read and re-read the letter of Mademoiselle de Chartres,
trying to discover, by the expression of her desire to remain at
Chelles, the secret causes which had given rise to it. Then, after an
instant of meditation, as deep as if the fate of empires depended on it:

"There is some love pique here," said he; "do you know if Louise loves
any one?"

Madame told the regent the adventure of the opera, and the exclamation
of the princess, in her admiration for the handsome tenor.

"Diable!" cried the regent, "and what did you and the Duchesse d'Orleans
do in your maternal council?"

"We showed Cauchereau the door, and forbade the opera to Mademoiselle de
Chartres; we could not do less."

"Well!" replied the regent, "there is no need to seek further. We must
cure her at once of this fancy."

"And how will you do that, my son?"

"I will go to-day to the Abbey des Chelles, and interrogate Louise. If
the thing is but a