I was somewhat frightened, and was glad that a summons of 'my
daughter' from the Princess of Conde interrupted these strange
communications. I understood them better when we were called upon to
ell the old Marchioness the names of every one whom we had met at the
Hotel de Rambouillet, and on hearing of the presence of Mademoiselle
de Bourbon she said: 'Ah! yes, a marriage is arranged for the young
lady with the Duke of Longueville.'

'But!' exclaimed my husband, 'the Duke is an old man, whose daughter
is older than I.'

'What has that to do with it?' said his aunt. 'There is not much
blood in France with which a Montmorency Bourbon can match.
Moreover, they say the child is devote, and entetee on Madam de Port
Royal, who is more than suspected of being outree in her devotion; so
the sooner she is married the better!'

Poor beautiful girl, how I pitied her then! Her lovely, wistful,
blue eyes haunted me all night, in the midst of my own gladness; for
a courier had come that evening bringing my father's reply. He said
my mother deplored my unusual course, but that for his part he liked
his little girl the better for her courage, and that he preferred
that I should make my husband's home happy to my making it at court.
All he asked of me was to remember that I had to guard the honour of
my husband's name and of my country, and he desired that I should
take Tryphena with me wherever I went.