The fair Mademoiselle bethought herself of the letter which had been sent to Lower Brittany by one of the King's body-guard, and which had been so much talked of in the province. She determined to go herself to get information at Versailles, to throw herself at the feet of the King's Ministers, if her affianced husband should be in prison, as was reported, and to obtain justice on his behalf. Something or other secretly told her that nothing is refused at Court to a pretty damsel; but she little knew at what cost.

Having taken her resolution, she experienced a sense of peace and consolation. She no longer flouted her silly suitor ; she smiled upon the detestable father-in-law, fondled her brother, and diffused a spirit of cheerfulness through the house. Then, on the day appointed for the ceremony, she secretly took her departure, at four o'clock in the morning, carrying with her all her little wedding presents and whatever else she could gather together. Her scheme had been so well executed, that she was already more than ten leagues away, when, about noon, her chamber was entered and found empty. Great was the surprise and great the consternation! The Magistrate, who was a mere mark of interrogation, put more questions that day than he had asked the whole week before; the bridegroom seemed more stupid than ever. The Abbé de Saint-Yves, in his anger, resolved to go after his sister post-haste; the Magistrate and his son volunteered to accompany him, and so Destiny drove almost all that district of Lower Brittany to Paris.

The beautiful Mademoiselle Saint-Yves was quite prepared for pursuit. She was on horseback, and shrewdly inquired of all the post-boys if they had seen anything of a fat abbé, a ponderous magistrate, and a young booby hurrying along the road to Paris. Finding on the third day that they were not far off she took a different road,

and was clever and fortunate enough to arrive at Versailles, while a vain search was being instituted for her in Paris.

But how was she now to behave at Versailles ?—young and beautiful, without counsel or support, a stranger, and exposed to perils on every hand, how could she dare to go in search of one of the King's body-guard? She bethought herself of applying to some Jesuit of inferior grade, for there were some of them to be found for all conditions of life. As the Creator, said they, had assigned various sorts of food to different kinds of animals, so He had given the King his own private Confessor, whom all such as were soliciting good appointments were accustomed to call "the Head of the Gallican Church." Then came the Confessors of the Princesses; the King's Ministers had none at all,-they were not such fools. There were Jesuits for the general public, and, what was of more importance, there were Jesuits for ladies' maids, from whom they learned their mistresses' secrets, and that was no small service to the Society. The fair Mademoiselle Saint-Yves addressed herself to one of these last, whose name was Father Tout-à-tous (All-things-to-all-men). To him she made her confession, related her adventures, her present situation, and the dangers to which she was exposed, and entreated him to find her a lodging with some pious female who might shelter her from temptation.

Father Tout-à-tous committed her to the care of one of his most trustworthy penitents, the wife of an officer of the Buttery. No sooner was she established there than she exerted herself to win the confidence and friendship of her hostess. She gained intelligence of the Breton guardsman, and got him asked to come to the house. On learning from him that her lover had been carried off after having had an interview with a certain head-clerk, she lost no time in paying the latter a visit. The sight of a fair

female made him milder, for it must be admitted that women have been created for no other purpose than to tame the ruder sex.

So the quill-driver, moved to compassion, told her everything.

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Your lover has been in the Bastille for nearly a year, and without your help he may, perhaps, remain there all his life."

Mademoiselle Saint-Yves was so affected that she fainted. When she recovered her senses, the knight of the pen addressed her thus:

"I have not enough influence to do good; all my power is limited to doing some harm occasionally. Take my advice and call upon Monsieur de Saint-Pouange, who does both good and evil, cousin and favourite of Monseigneur de Louvois. That Minister has two souls: Monsieur de Saint-Pouange is one of them, and Madame Dufresnoy is the other, but she is not at Versailles just now. You have nothing to do but to secure the goodwill of the patron I have mentioned."

The lovely Mademoiselle Saint-Yves, divided between a little joy and a great deal of sorrow, between faint hopes and disheartening fears, pursued by her brother, idolising her lover, drying her tears and then weeping again, feeble and trembling, yet taking fresh courage, hastened to the house of Monsieur de Saint-Pouange.

CHAPTER XIV.

MENTAL PROGRESS OF THE CHILD OF NATURE.

THE HE Unsophisticated made rapid advancement in the various branches of knowledge, and, above all, in the knowledge of man. The cause of this rapid development of his mind was due almost as much to his savage training as to his intellectual capacity; for, having learned nothing in his childhood, he had imbibed no prejudices; his understanding not having been warped by error had remained perfectly straightforward. He saw things as they actually were, whereas the ideas communicated to us in childhood make us see things as they are not all our life long.

"Your persecutors are detestable," said he to his friend. Gordon. "I pity you for being the victim of oppression, but I pity you also for being a Jansenist. Every sect appears to me to be a rallying point of error. Tell me if there are any sects in Geometry?"

"No, my dear child," said the good Gordon, with a sigh; "all men are of one mind on truth, when it is proved, but they are sadly divided about truths that are obscure."

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Say, rather, about obscure falsehoods. If there were a single truth hidden under your heap of arguments, so often sifted through so many ages, it could not fail to have been brought to light, and the whole world would have been agreed, at any rate, on that point. If this truth was as necessary to us as the sun is to the earth, it would be equally luminous. It is an absurdity; it is an insult to human nature; it is an outrage against the Infinite and Supreme Being to say that there is any truth

of essential importance to mankind which God has chosen to keep secret."

All that was said by this ignorant young fellow, taught only by Nature, made a deep impression upon the mind of the unfortunate old scholar.

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Can it really be true," he exclaimed, "that I have made myself miserable for extravagant fancies? I am, indeed, far surer of my unhappy situation than I am of effectual grace. I have spent my life in reasoning upon divine and human freedom, but I have lost my own. Neither Saint Augustine nor Saint Prosper will ever draw me out of the pit into which I have fallen."

The Unsophisticated was silent, and then said with characteristic frankness:

"Would you have me speak to you boldly and without reserve? Those who incur persecution for such vain scholastic disputes seem to me to have little wisdom; those who persecute appear to me to be monsters."

The two captives were of one mind about the injustice of their captivity.

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I am a hundred times more to be pitied than you are," said the Child of Nature. "I was born free as the air; I had two lives-liberty and the object of my love, and I am deprived of both. Here we are both of us in chains, without knowing the reason why, and unable to ask it.. I have lived twenty years among the Hurons; they are called savages because they revenge themselves upon their enemies, but they never oppress their friends. Scarcely had I set foot in France ere I shed my blood on her behalf; it may be that I saved a province, and for reward I find myself plunged into this living tomb, where I should have died of rage if it had not been for you. Are there no laws, then, in this country, that men are condemned unheard? It is not so in England. Ah! it was not against the English that I should have fought!"