On the 8th February, 1719, a carriage, bearing the fleur-de-lis of France, with the motto of Orleans, preceded by two outriders and a page, entered the porch of the Abbey of Chelles, precisely as the clock struck ten, and, the door having been quickly opened, its two occupants stepped out. The first was a man of from forty-five to forty-six years of age, short, and rather stout, with a high color, easy in his movements, and displaying in every gesture a certain air of high breeding and command. The second, who followed slowly, was short, and remarkably thin. His face, though not precisely ugly, was very disagreeable, although bearing the evidences of a keen intellect. He seemed to feel the cold, and followed his companion, wrapped up in an ample cloak. The first of these two made his way up the staircase with the air of a man well acquainted with the locality. Passing through a large antechamber containing several nuns, who bowed to the ground as he passed, he ran rather than walked to a reception-room, which, it must be confessed, bore but little trace of that austerity which is ordinarily ascribed to the interior of a cloister. The other, who followed leisurely, was saluted almost as humbly by the nuns. "And now," said the first, "wait here and warm yourself, while I go to her, and in ten minutes I will make an end of all these abuses you mention: if she deny, and I want proof, I will call you." "Ten minutes, monseigneur," replied the man in the cloak; "in two hours your highness will not have even broached the subject of your visit. Oh! the Abbess de Chelles is a clever woman!" So saying, he stretched himself out in an easy chair, which he had drawn near the fire, and rested his thin legs on the fender. "Yes, yes," replied he who had been addressed as "your highness;" "I know, and if I could forget it, you take care to remind me of it often enough. Why did you bring me here to-day through all this wind and snow?" "Because you would not come yesterday, monseigneur." "Yesterday, it was impossible; I had an appointment with Lord Stair at five o'clock." "In a house in the Rue des Bons Enfants. My lord does not live any longer, then, at the English embassy?" "Abbe, I had forbidden you to follow me." "Monseigneur, it is my duty to disobey you." "Well, then, disobey; but let me tell stories at my pleasure, without your having the impertinence to show me that you know it, just for the sake of proving the efficiency of your police." "Monseigneur may rest easy in future-I will believe anything!" "I will not promise as much in return, abbe, for here I think you have made a mistake." "Monseigneur, I know what I said, and I repeat it." "But look! no noise, no light, perfect quiet, your account is incorrect; it is evident that we are late." "Yesterday, monseigneur, where you stand, there was an orchestra of fifty musicians; there, where that young sister kneels so devoutly, was a buffet: what was upon it I cannot tell, but I know it was there, and in the gallery on the left, where a modest supper of lentils and cream cheese is now preparing for the holy sisters, were two hundred people, drinking, dancing, and making-" "Well, making what?" "Making love, monseigneur." "Diable! are you sure of this?" "Rather more sure than if I had seen it, and that is why you do well in coming to-day, and would have done better in coming yesterday.