everything,
down to the smallest article of furniture, recalled to her the details of
that savage tragedy. But even worse was her case when she found it no
longer possible to doubt her father-in-law's intentions; when she saw
herself beloved by one whose very name had again and again made her
childhood turn pale with terror, and when she was left alone at all hours
of the day in the sole company of the man whom public rumour still
pursued as a murderer. Perhaps in any other place the poor lonely girl
might have found some strength in trusting herself to God; but there,
where God had suffered one of the fairest and purest creatures that ever
existed to perish by so cruel a death, she dared not appeal to Him, for
He seemed to have turned away from this family.

She waited, therefore, in growing terror; spending her days, as much as
she could, with the women of rank who lived in the little town of Ganges,
and some of whom, eye-witnesses of her mother-in-law's murder, increased
her terrors by the accounts which they gave of it, and which she, with
the despairing obstinacy of fear, asked to hear again and again. As to
her nights, she spent the greater part of them on her knees, and fully
dressed, trembling at the smallest sound; only breathing freely as
daylight came back, and then venturing to seek her bed for a few hours'
rest.

At last the marquis's attempts became so direct and so pressing, that the
poor young woman resolved to escape at all costs from his hands. Her
first idea was to write to her father, explain to him her position and
ask help; but her father had not long been a Catholic, and had suffered
much on behalf of the Reformed religion, and on these accounts it was
clear that her letter would be opened by the marquis on pretext of
religion, and thus that step, instead of saving, might destroy her. She
had thus but one resource: her husband had always been a Catholic; her
husband was a captain of dragoons, faithful in the service of the king
and faithful in the service of God; there could be no excuse for opening
a letter to him; she resolved to address herself to him, explained the
position in which she found herself, got the address written by another
hand, and sent the letter to Montpellier, where it was posted.

The young marquis was at Metz when he received his wife's missive. At
that instant all his childish memories awoke; he beheld himself at his
dying mother's bedside, vowing never to forget her