"To the first question--yes; he is by no means without brains, and is very gracious to strangers. To the second--no, very little. If you are looking for me, Thérèse, in your wanderings up and down, here I am, at her Ladyship's service." "It is not her Ladyship, Sir, dat want you. Dupont tell me to say you dat Monsieur Colville is in your rooms." "Colville! that is jolly!" And Mr. Philip Ingram took his immediate departure. Celia guessed that Mr. Colville was the solitary friend of whom he had before spoken. "Now, Patient, I want to hear about the Dragonnades. Oh! surely you are not making up all those dresses for me?" "Yes, Madam," answered Patient, in her passive way. "My Lady has ordered it." "Well," sighed Celia, "I wonder when I am to wear them?" Patient gathered up one of the multifarious dresses--a blue gauze one--and followed her mistress into the boudoir. "You have never seen King Louis, Madam?" "Never; I should like to have a glimpse of him some day." "I never have, and I hope I never shall." "Do you think so badly of him, Patient?" "They call him The Great: methinks they might fitly give the same title to the Devil. He is a man with neither heart nor conscience. God forbid that I should judge any man: yet 'tis written, 'By their fruits ye shall know them,'[7] and the fruits of this King are truly dreadful. It doth look as if the Lord had given him 'over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient.'[8] Privately, he is a man of very evil life; and publicly--you will hear shortly, Madam, what he is. 'Tis now, methinks, nigh upon twenty years since what they called the Edict of Nantes[9] was done away with. That decree, passed by some former King of this country,[10] did permit all the Protestants to hold their own worship, and to be visited in sickness by their chosen ministers. This, being too gentle for this King, he therefore swept away. His dragoons were sent into every place throughout France, with orders to force the the poor Protestants to go unto the wicked mass, and to harry them in all manner of ways, saving only to avoid danger of their lives. One Sabbath thereto appointed, they drave all in every place to mass at the point of their swords, goading and pricking on such as lagged, or showed ill-will thereto. I saw one crowd so driven, from a window--for my Lady being a Papist, kept safe them in her house: or else it was that I was not counted worthy of the Lord to have that great honor of suffering for His sake. Poor souls! white-headed men there were, and tender women, and little, innocent, frightened children. It was a sight to move any human heart. I heard many a tale of worse things they did. Breaking into the houses, destroying and burning the household furniture, binding and beating the men, yea, even the women; drumming with hellish noise in the chambers of the sick, until they swooned away or were like to die; burning the