Feuquieres, had come in, bringing with him a very young lad, in the
plian black gown and white collar of a theological student; and it
was made known that the Marquis had been boasting of the wonderful
facility of a youth was studying at the College of Navarre, and had
declared that he could extemporise with eloquence upon any subject.
Some one had begged that the youth might be fetched and set to preach
on a text proposed to him at the moment, and here he was.

Madame de Rambouillet hesitated a little at the irreverence, but the
Duke of Enghien requested that the sermon might take place, and she
consented, only looking at her watch and saying it was near midnight,
so that the time was short. M. Voiture, the poet, carried round a
velvet bag, and each was to write a text on a slip of paper to be
drawn out at haphazard.

We two showed each other what we wrote. My husband's was--'Love is
strong as death;' mine--'Let the wife cleave unto her husband.' But
neither of them was drawn out. I saw by the start that Mademoiselle
de Bourbon gave that it was hers, when the first paper was taken out--
'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!' a few minutes were offered to
the young Abbe to collect his thoughts, but he declined them, and he
was led to a sort of a dais at the end of the salon, while the chairs
were placed in a half-circle. Some of the ladies tittered a little,
though Madame de Rambouillet looked grave; but they composed
themselves. We all stood and repeated the Ave, and then seated
ourselves; while the youth, in a voice already full and sweet, began
solemnly: 'What is life? what is man?'

I can never convey to you how this world and all its fleeting follies
seemed to melt away before us, and how each of us felt our soul alone