eir conscience had forced such
confession from them, and then remitted the sentence of confiscation
only. They were executed before the setting of that sun which had
witnessed their crime, and the next day, that is, yesterday evening, the
three bodies, united once more by fate, were found floating about two
leagues from Saint Germain, under the willows at the edge of the river
near Poisay.

Orders were instantly given for their separate interment. The youngest
was brought back to Saint Germain, where the King wished him to have a
funeral befitting his innocence and untimely fate. All the military
attended it.

Forgive me, madams, for all these lengthy details; we have all been so
much upset by this dreadful occurrence, and can talk of nothing else,--in
fact, it will furnish matter for talk for a long while yet.

I sincerely hope that by this time Madame de Mortsmart has completely
recovered. I agree with his Majesty that, in doctoring, you have not had
much experience; still, friendship acts betimes as a most potent
talisman, and the heart of the Abbess is of those that in absence pines,
but which in the presence of some loved one revives.

She has deigned to grant me a little place in her esteem; pray tell her
that this first favour has somewhat spoiled me, and that now I ask for
more than this, for a place in her affections. Madame de Thianges and
Madame de Nevers are aware of my respect and attachment for them, and
they approve of this, for they have engraved their names and crests on my
plantain-trees at Maintenon. Such inscriptions are a bond to bind us,
and if no mischance befall, these trees, as I hope, will survive me.

I am, madame, etc., MAINTENON.

CHAPTER LXI.

Mademoiselle d'Amurande.--The Married Nun.--The Letter to the
Superior.--Monseigneur's Discourse.--The Abduction.--A Letter from the
King.--Beware of the Governess.--We Leave Fontevrault.

Amoung the novices at Fontevrault there was a most interesting, charming
young person, who gave Madame de Mortemart a good deal of anxiety, as she
thought her still undecided as to the holy profession she was about to
adopt. This interested me greatly, and evoked my deepest sympathy.

The night of our concert and garden fete she sang to please the Abbess,
but there were tears in her voice. I was touched beyond expression, and
going up to her at the bend of one of the quickset-hedges, I said, "You
are unhappy, mademoiselle; I feel a deep interest fo