'you have not yet dealt with her?'

'No, brother, I never saw a like mood. She seems neither to fear nor
to struggle. I knew she was too true a Ribaumont for weak tears and
entreaties; but, fiery little being as once she was, I looked to see her
force spend itself in passion, and that then the victory would have been
easy; but no, she ever looks as if she had some inward resource--some
security--and therefore could be calm. I should deem it some Huguenot
fanaticism, but she is a very saint as to the prayers of the Church, the
very torment of our lives.'

'Could she escape?' exclaimed the Chevalier, who had been considering
while his sister was speaking.

'Impossible! Besides, where could she go? But the gates shall be closed.
I will warn the portress to let none pass out without my permission.'

'The Chevalier took a turn up and down the room; then exclaimed, 'It
was very ill-advised to let her women have access to her! Let us have
Veronique summoned instantly.'

At that moment, however, the ponderous carriage of Monseigneur, with
out-riders, both lay and clerical, came trampling up to the archway,
and the Abbess hurried off to her own apartment to divest herself of her
hunting-gear ere she received her guest; and the orders to one of the
nuns to keep a watch on her niece were oddly mixed with those to the
cook, confectioner, and butterer.

La Mere Marie Saraphine was not a cruel or an unkind woman. She had been
very fond of her pretty little niece in her childhood, but had
deeply resented the arrangement which had removed her from her own
superintendence to that of the Englishwoman, besides the uniting to the
young Baron one whom she deemed the absolute right of Narcisse. She had
received Eustacie on her first return with great joy, and had always
treated her with much indulgence, and when the drooping, broken-hearted
girl came back once more to the shelter of her convent, the
good-humoured Abbess only wished to make her happy again.

But Eustacie's misery was far beyond the ken of her aunt, and the jovial
turn of these consolations did but deepen her agony. To be congratulated
on her release from the heretic, assured of future happiness with her
cousin, and, above all, to hear Berenger abused with all the bitterness
of rival family and rival religion, tore up the lacerated spirit. Ill,
dejected, and broken down, too subdued to fire up in defence, and only
longing for the power of indulging in silent grief, Eust