in the presence of our Maker, as though nothing mattered, or ever
would matter, but how we stood with Him. One hardly dared to draw
one's breath. Mademoiselle de Bourbon was almost stifled with the
sobs she tried to restrain lest her mother should make her retire.
My husband held my hand, and pressed it unseen. He was a deeper,
more thoughtful man ever after he heard that voice, which seemed to
come, as it were, from the Angel at Bochim who warned the Israelites;
and that night we dedicated ourselves to the God who had not let us
be put asunder.

I wished we could have gone away at once and heard no more, and so
must, I think, the young preacher have felt; but he was surrounded
with compliments. M. Voiture said he had never heard 'so early nor so
late a sermon;' while others thronged up with their compliments.

Madame de Rambouillet herself murmured: 'He might be Daniel hearing
the compliments of Belshazzar on his deciphering the handwriting,' so
impassively did he listen to the suffrages of the assembly, only
replying by a bow.

The Duke of Enghien, boldest of course, pressed up to him and, taking
his hand, begged to know his name.

'Bossuet, Monseigneur,' he answered.

There were one or two who had the bad taste to smile, for Bossuet (I
must tell my English kindred) means a draught-ox; but once more the
lovely sister of the young Duke grasped my hand and said: 'Oh, that I
could hide myself at once! Why will they not let me give myself to
my God? Vanity of vanities! why am I doomed?'