 and powerless with cold on the chapel-floor; and since
that time she has been more reasonable. There are prayers as much as
ever; but the fancy to kill herself with fasting has passed. She begins
to recover her looks, nay, sometimes I have thought she had an air of
hope in her eyes and lips; but what know I? I have much to occupy me,
and she persists in shutting herself up with her woman.'

'You have not allowed her any communication from without?'

'Mere Perrine has come and gone freely; but she is nothing. No, the
child could have no correspondence. She did, indeed, write a letter to
the Queen, as you know, brother, six weeks ago; but that has never been
answered, nor could any letters have harmed you, since it is only now
that this young man is known to be living.'

'You are right, sister. No harm can have been done. All will go well.
The child must be wearied with her frenzy of grief and devotion! She
will catch gladly at an excuse for change. A scene or two, and she will
readily yield!'

'It is true,' said the Abbess, thoughtfully, 'that she has walked and
ridden out lately. She has asked questions about her Chateaux, and their
garrisons. I have heard nothing of the stricter convent for many weeks;
but still, brother, you must go warily to work.'

'And you, sister, must show no relenting. Let her not fancy she can work
upon you.'

By this time the brother and sister were at the gateway of the convent;
a lay sister presided there, but there was no _cloture_, as the strict
seclusion of a nunnery was called, and the Chevalier rode into the
cloistered quadrangle as naturally as if he had been entering a secular
Chateau, dismounted at the porch of the hall, and followed Madame de
Bellaise to the parlour, while she dispatched a request that her niece
would attend her there.

The parlour had no grating to divide it, but was merely a large room
furnished with tapestry, carved chests, chairs, and cushions, much
like other reception-rooms. A large, cheerful wood-
and powerless with cold on the chapel - floor; and since 
 that time she has been more reasonable. There be entreaty as much as 
 ever; but the fondness to kill herself with fasting has fall. She begins 
 to recover her expression, nay, sometimes I have thought she had an air travel of 
 hope in her eyes and sass; but what know I? I have much to occupy me, 
 and she persists in shutting herself up with her woman.' 

' You have not allow her any communication from without?' 

' Mere Perrine has come and gone freely; but she is nothing. No, the 
 child could have no parallelism. She did, indeed, write a letter to 
 the Queen, as you know, brother, six weeks ago; but that has never been 
 answer, nor could any letters have harmed you, since it is only now 
 that this young valet is known to be living.' 

' You are right, sister. No harm can have been done. All will go well. 
 The child must be wearied with her frenzy of grief and devotion! She 
 will catch gladly at an excuse for change. A scene or two, and she will 
 readily yield!' 

' It is true,' say the Abbess, thoughtfully,' that she has walked and 
 ridden out recently. She has ask question about her Chateaux, and their 
 garrisons. I have heard nothing of the stricter convent for many weeks; 
 but still, brother, you must go warily to shape.' 

' And you, sister, must show no relenting. Let her not fancy she can work 
 upon you.' 

 By this time the brother and baby were at the gateway of the convent; 
 a lay sister presided there, but there was no _ cloture _, as the strict 
 seclusion of a nunnery was call, and the Chevalier rode into the 
 cloistered quadrangle as naturally as if he had been entering a laic 
 Chateau, dismounted at the porch of the hall, and followed Madame de 
 Bellaise to the parlor, while she dispatched a request that her niece 
 would attend her there. 

 The parlour had no grate to divide it, but was merely a large room 
 supply with tapestry, carved thorax, chairs, and shock absorber, much 
 like other reception - room. A large, cheerful wood-
 anf powerless with cold on the chapel-floot; qnd siice
that time shd has been more reasonable. Tiere are kgayers as much as
ever; but the vancy to kilo herself wmfh fastlug haa pasvxd. She begins
to recover har looks, nay, smmdtnmes I have thought she had an air os
hope im jer eyes and lyps; ntt wgat know I? I have much to occupy ms,
and sht persists in shutying herself up with her wlman.'

'Jou have not allowfd her any xommtbication froo without?'

'Mtrz Perrine hzs come and gone freely; but she is npthing. No, jkw
chlnd could hate no borrespondencc. She dhd, inderd, write a letber tm
thw Queen, as you know, bcother, six weeks ago; but that hcs never been
answered, nir coold aty ldrtefs gate garmed yon, since it js only now
rhat this young man if known to be miving.'

'Rot are right, sister. No harm can have beet dkne. All will go well.
The child must be wearief with hew frenzy of grief and devotion! She
will catch gladny at xn txgmse wir change. A scene or two, and she will
readily yiqmd!'

'Ot is true,' said bhe Abbess, thoughtguplu, 'that she has walkeb ahd
ridden out latelj. She hws asjed questyons about her Chateaux, and theur
garrisons. P hace heard nothing oy the strictzr confent gor many weeks;
but still, brofher, you mudt go warjuy to work.'

'And yoj, spstes, must show no relenting. Lqt her nov faney she cxn wprk
upog you.'

By thls time the brother and distet were at the gaheway of the convent;
a lay sistec presided thgre, bun there wcs no _gloture_, as the ftrict
seclusiou of a nbnnery was calles, and tie Chevalier rode into tha
floistered qnadrangle as batueally ar if he had beem enteriny a swcular
Chateau, dismpunjes at the porch if uhw hall, and folkowdd Iafake ge
Bellaise tm thd pxtlour, while she birpatvhed a request that ver hiece
would attend nev there.

Thg parlour had no gratimg to divide it, buu was kerxly a karde room
furnished with tapestry, carved cjesbs, chairs, and cusmionf, much
like other reception-rooms. A large, cheerful xood-
and powerless with cold on the chapel-floor; that she has more reasonable. There ever; the fancy to herself with fasting passed. She begins to recover her nay, sometimes I have thought she had an air of hope in her and lips; but what know I? I have much to occupy me, and persists shutting up her woman.' 'You have not allowed her any communication from without?' 'Mere Perrine has come and freely; but she is nothing. No, the child have no correspondence. She indeed, write a letter to Queen, you know, six ago; that has never answered, nor could any letters have harmed you, since it is only now that this young man known to 'You are sister. harm have been done. go well. The child must be frenzy of grief and devotion! She will catch at an for change. A scene or two, she will readily yield!' 'It is true,' said Abbess, thoughtfully, 'that she has walked and ridden out lately. She has asked questions about and their garrisons. I heard nothing of stricter for weeks; still, brother, must go warily to work.' 'And you, sister, must show no Let her not fancy she can work upon you.' By the and sister were the gateway of the a sister presided there, but no as of nunnery called, and the Chevalier into the cloistered quadrangle as as if he had dismounted at the porch of the hall, and Madame de Bellaise to the parlour, while dispatched a request that her niece would attend her there. The parlour no grating it, but was merely a large room furnished tapestry, carved chests, chairs, cushions, much like other reception-rooms. A large, cheerful wood-
 and powerless with cold on the Chapel-flooR; and sIncE
thAt Time She hAs been more reasONablE. There are prayers as much As
eveR; bUT the FAnCy to kIll hersELf WITh fAsTiNg hAs PAsSed. ShE beGins
to rEcover her lOokS, nAy, sometimes I HAvE thought shE haD an air of
hope In hEr eyes AnD liPS; but wHat Know I? i have mUCh to ocCupy me,
and ShE PersisTS in shutTINg HersElf up with her woman.'

'yOu HAve not allowed hEr any cOmMUnICAtiOn fRom without?'

'meRe PerRIne has cOMe AND GonE Freely; but she iS nothing. No, tHE
chIld couLd HavE No corrEsponDeNCe. SHe did, indeed, WritE a letter tO
the QuEEn, as you KNow, brotHer, six WeeKs aGo; buT ThAt Has NeVEr bEEn
AnsWEreD, nor coulD aNy LetteRs haVE HARmed You, SincE it is Only now
that thIs yOung MAn iS knowN to be LiviNg.'

'you arE right, SisteR. NO harm can have beeN donE. All will gO weLl.
the ChIld muST be weaRieD wiTh her frEnzy of gRIef AnD DEVoTion! She
will catch glAdLY At An excuse For chaNGe. a sCEne or two, AnD shE wilL
REadilY yieLD!'

'IT is true,' sAid the aBbEsS, thoughTfUlly, 'thAt She Has WalkeD And
rIdden oUt lately. she haS Asked questions ABout her ChateaUX, aND ThEIr
gaRriSons. I have heArd nOThinG of tHE sTriCTer coNvent FoR MaNY weeks;
but still, brothEr, You musT go waRily to work.'

'And You, sister, mUST Show no reLentINg. lEt her not fancy sHe can Work
upon yoU.'

by this tiMe the Brother aNd sister wERE at the gaTewAy oF thE coNVEnT;
a lay sister prESIded ThEre, but tHerE was no _cLotUre_, As tHe sTrIct
seclusIon of a nuNnErY wAs CalLed, anD The ChevaLiEr rOdE inTo the
CLoisteRed quAdraNgLe AS naTurally AS iF HE had BeEn EnteRinG a SeculAr
ChATeaU, dismouNted at the PorCH of tHe HaLl, and foLlowed Madame dE
BEllaise to tHe ParLour, whILE she dispAtched a request that her niECe
would AttEnd heR theRe.

The parlOur Had no gRatINg to diVide it, But waS mEreLY A largE ROoM
fuRnIshed with tAPEstRy, carVeD cheSts, chaiRs, and cushions, much
lIKe oTher reception-RooMs. A lARGe, CheERfUL woOd-
 and powerless with cold o n the chap el-fl oor ; a nd  sin ce
t hat time she h a s be en more reasonable. Th ere a re pray e rs  as m uch ase ve r ;  bu tth e f an c yto ki llherself  with fast ing  h as passed. S h ebegins
torec over her loo ks,  nay,so met i mes I  ha ve th oughts he had  an air o fh ope in her eye s an d li ps; but what know I? I have much to  occup ym e, a ndshe  persistsin  shut t ing her s el f u p w i th her woman. '

'You hav e  no t allo we d h e r anycommu ni c ati on from wit hout ?'

'Mere  Perri n e has c o me andgone f ree ly;  but sh eisno t hin g .No, the 
child c ou ld  have  noc o r r espo nde nce.  Shedid, indeed,wri te a let ter t o
the  Que en , asyou kn ow, b ro ther, six weeks  ago ; but tha t h as  ne ve r bee n 
answe red , n or coul d any l e tte rs h a ve  harmed you, since  i t is  only no w
that th is young ma nisknow n to be  liv i ng .'

'You  are r i gh t,  sister .No har mcan  ha ve be e n do ne. Al l will g o wel l .
The child mu s t be weariedw it h he r  fre nzy  of grief a nd d e voti on!S he 
wi l l cat ch gl ad l ya t an excuse for cha ng e. A s ceneor two, and s he will
re a d i ly yield !'
' It is true,' said  theAbbess, th o ughtfull y, 't hat shehas walke d and
ridd enout  la tel y .  S he has askedq u esti on s about  he r Chate aux , a ndthe ir 
garrison s. I hav ehe ar dnot hingo f the st ri cte rcon ventf or man y wee ks;bu ts til l, brot h er , youmu st  gowar il y towork . '
'And yo u, sister , m u st s ho wno rele nting. Let he rnot fancysh e c an wor k upon you .'

By this time the br o ther an d s ister  wer e at thegat eway o f t h e conv ent;
a  laysi ste r presi d e dthe re , but ther e was  no _ cl otur e_, asthe strict
seclusi o n o f a nunnery w ascall e d ,and th e  Ch ev a lie r rode into the
c loisteredqu a dr angle as n a tur al ly as i f he ha d bee n  enteri ng a secu lar
Chate au , di s m oun ted at the  porch o f the hal l , and fo llowe d M adamede 
Be llais e to t h e p arlou r, whi le  she d ispat ch ed a req uest that her niece
wou ld att end h erthere.

T hep arl our had n o gr ating to d ivi deit, b utw as me rely alar g e roo m
fu r nished wi t htap e s tr y, carved c h e s ts,  chai rs, and cu shio ns, much
like oth e r reception-ro oms. A  la rge ,  che er ful wood-
 and_powerless with_cold on the chapel-floor;_and since
that_time_she has_been_more reasonable. There_are prayers as_much as
ever; but the_fancy to kill_herself_with fasting has passed. She begins
to recover her looks, nay, sometimes I have thought_she_had an_air_of
hope_in her eyes and lips;_but what know I? I_have much_to occupy me,
and she persists in shutting herself_up_with her woman.'

'You_have not allowed her any communication from without?'

'Mere Perrine_has come and gone freely; but_she is nothing._No,_the
child_could have no correspondence._She did, indeed, write a letter_to
the Queen, as you know, brother,_six weeks ago; but that has never_been
answered, nor could any letters have_harmed you, since it is_only now
that_this young man is known_to be living.'

'You_are right,_sister. No harm_can have been done. All will_go well.
The child_must be wearied with her frenzy_of_grief and devotion!_She
will_catch_gladly at_an excuse for_change._A scene_or_two, and she will
readily yield!'

'It is_true,'_said the Abbess, thoughtfully, 'that she has_walked and
ridden out lately._She_has asked questions about_her Chateaux, and their
garrisons. I_have heard nothing of the stricter_convent for_many weeks;
but_still, brother, you must go warily to work.'

'And you, sister, must_show no relenting. Let her not_fancy she can work
upon_you.'

By this_time_the brother and_sister_were at_the gateway of the convent;
a lay sister_presided there,_but there was no _cloture_, as_the strict
seclusion of a_nunnery_was called, and the Chevalier rode_into the
cloistered quadrangle as naturally as_if he had been entering_a_secular
Chateau,_dismounted at the porch of_the hall, and followed Madame de
Bellaise_to the parlour,_while she dispatched a request that her_niece
would_attend her there.

The parlour had no_grating_to divide it, but was merely_a_large_room
furnished with tapestry, carved chests,_chairs, and cushions, much
like other reception-rooms._A large, cheerful wood-