ect; it is evident that we are late."

"Yesterday, monseigneur, where you stand, there was an orchestra of
fifty musicians; there, where that young sister kneels so devoutly, was
a buffet: what was upon it I cannot tell, but I know it was there, and
in the gallery on the left, where a modest supper of lentils and cream
cheese is now preparing for the holy sisters, were two hundred people,
drinking, dancing, and making--"

"Well, making what?"

"Making love, monseigneur."

"Diable! are you sure of this?"

"Rather more sure than if I had seen it, and that is why you do well in
coming to-day, and would have done better in coming yesterday. This sort
of life does not become an abbess, monseigneur."

"No, it is only fit for an abbe. Ha!"

"I am a politician, monseigneur."

"Well, my daughter is a political abbess, that is all."

"Oh, let it be so, if it suits you, monseigneur; I am not so particular
in point of morals, you know. To-morrow there will be another song or
two out, but what does that matter?"----"Well, well, wait for me, and I
will go and scold."

"Take my word for it, monseigneur, if you wish to scold properly you had
better do it here, before me; if you fail in memory or arguments, sign
to me, and I will come to the rescue."

"Yes, yes, you are right," said the person who had undertaken to redress
wrongs, and in whom we hope the reader has recognized Philippe
d'Orleans. "Yes, this scandal must be quieted a little, at any rate: the
abbess must not receive more than twice a week. There must be none of
these dances and assemblies, and the cloisters must be re-established.
Mademoiselle d'Orleans passed from gayety to a religious life; she left
the Palais Royal for Chelles in spite of all I could do to prevent her;
now, for five days in the week she must be the abbess, and that will
leave her two to play the great lady."

"Ah, monseigneur, you are beginning to see the thing in its true
light."

"Is not this what you wish?"

"It is what is necessary. It seems to me that an abbess who has thirty
valets, fifteen footmen, ten cooks, eight grooms, and a mute--who
fences, plays the horn, and the violincello--who is a surgeon and a
hairdresser--who shoots and makes fireworks--cannot be very dull."

"Has not my daughter been told of my arrival," said the duke to an old
nun who crossed the room with a bunch of keys in her hand; "I wish to
know whether I shall go to her, or whether she is coming to me."