, and the general
opinion in my home is that he was really the author of her death.

"Devotedly attached to my husband by ties of love no less than of duty, I
fled with him to his uncle's, an old knight-commander of Malta, whose
sole heir he was. My father, with others, pursued us thither, and scaled
the walls of our retreat by night, resolved to kill his nephew first and
me afterwards. Roused by the noise of the ruffians, my husband seized
his firearms. Three of his assailants he shot from the balcony, and my
father, disguised as a common man, received a volley in the face, which
destroyed his eyesight. The Parliament of Rennes took up the matter. My
husband thought it best not to put in an appearance, and after the
evidence of sundry witnesses called at random, a warrant for his arrest
as a defaulter was issued, a death penalty being attached thereto.

"Ever since that time my husband has been wandering about in disguise
from province to province. Doomed to solitude in our once lovely
chateau, my, father forced me to take the veil in this convent, promising
that if I did so, he would not bring my husband to justice.

"Perhaps, madame, if the King were truly and faithfully informed of all
these things, he would have compassion for my grief, and right the
injustice meted out to my unlucky husband."

After hearing this sad story, I clearly saw that, in some way or other,
we should have to induce Madame de Mortemart to postpone the ceremony of
taking the vow, and I afterwards determined to put these vagaries on the
part of the law before my good friend President de Nesmond, who was the
very man to give us good advice, and suggest the right remedy.

As for the King, I did not deem it fit that he should be consulted in the
matter. Of course I look upon him as a just and wise prince, but he is
the slave of form. In great families, he does not like to hear of
marriages to which the father has not given formal consent; moreover, I
did not forget about the gun-shot which blinded the gentleman, and made
him useless for the rest of his life. The King, who is devoted to his
nobles, would never have pronounced in favour of the Vicomte, unless he
happened to be in a particularly good humour. Altogether, it was a risky
thing.

I deeply sympathised with Mademoiselle d'Amurande in her trouble, and
assured her of my good-will and protection, but I begged her to approve
my course of action, though taken independently of the King. Sh