caprice, I will give it time to pass off. I will
appear to adopt her views, and, in a year hence, when she is to take the
veil, she herself will come and beg us to free her from the difficulty
she has got herself into. If, on the contrary, the thing is serious,
then it will be different."

"Mon Dieu!" said madame, rising, "remember that poor Cauchereau has,
perhaps, nothing to do with it, and that he is even ignorant of the
passion he has inspired."

"Do not be afraid," replied the prince, laughing at the tragic
interpretation which the princess, with her German ideas, had given to
his words. "I shall not renew the lamentable history of the lovers of
the Paraclete; Cauchereau's voice shall neither lose nor gain a single
note in this adventure, and we do not treat a princess of the blood in
the same manner as a little bourgeoise."

"But, on the other hand," said madame, almost as much afraid of the
regent's real indulgence as of his apparent severity, "no weakness
either."

"My mother," said the regent, "if she must deceive some one, I would
rather that it was her husband than God." And kissing his mother's hand
respectfully, he led her to the door, quite scandalized at those easy
manners, among which she died, without ever having accustomed herself to
them. Then the Duc d'Orleans returned to his drawing, humming an air
from his opera of Porthee.

In crossing the antechamber, madame saw a little man in great
riding-boots coming toward her, his head sunk in the immense collar of a
coat lined with fur. When he reached her he poked out of his surtout a
little face with a pointed nose, and bearing a resemblance at once to a
polecat and a fox.

"Oh!" said the palatine, "is it you, abbe?"

"Myself, your highness. I have just saved France--nothing but that." And
bowing to madame, without waiting for her to dismiss him, as etiquette
required, he turned on his heel, and entered the regent's study without
being announced.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE ABBE DUBOIS.

All the world knows the commencement of the Abbe Dubois. We will not
enlarge on the history of his youth, which may be found in the memoirs
of the time, and particularly in those of the implacable Saint-Simon.
Dubois has not been calumniated--it was impossible; but all the evil has
been told of him, and not quite all the good.

There was in his antecedents, and in those of Alberoni, his rival, a
great resemblance, but the genius was on the side of Dubois; an