"There is a story told of one such dinner, at which the servant whispered in Madame's ear, 'Please to tell another story; there is not enough roast beef.' I have heard these and many other anecdotes about her from Aunt Sophie, whose mother-in-law knew her well for many years. When her husband died, she was again thrown on the world; and for some time she petitioned the King in vain for some little property or pension to which she was entitled us Scarron's widow. At last he became perfectly tired of her petitions; but he had never seen her. 'Widow Scarron!' His Majesty used to say, as he took up another petition: 'am I always to be pestered with Widow Scarron?' A short time afterwards he met her somewhere; and her grace, beauty, and wit made such an impression upon him that he gave her the appointment of governess to a _posse_ of his children. When he came to see them, he saw her; and 'Widow Scarron' so grew in his esteem, that it is supposed about two years after the death of his Queen, he married her."[31] "And why do they call her Madame de Maintenon?" "His Majesty gave her the estate of Maintenon, and wished her to bear the name." "And what will become of her when he dies?" "Ah, that is just the point! I should think she will go into a convent." "I thought you said she was a Huguenot?" "So she was, but she is generally supposed to be a Catholic now." "What a pity!" said Celia, thoughtfully. "How much good she might have done in turning the King's heart towards the Huguenots, if God had permitted her!" "On the contrary, she is thought to have turned him from them. Many persons say that we may thank her for the revocation of the Edict of Nantes." "I can scarce believe that, Philip!" "I hardly do myself." "Do you think, Philip," asked Celia, slowly, after a pause, "that there is one really good man or woman among all your acquaintance?" "My dear," replied Philip, in his gravest manner, "I have met with so many good men and women that I have lost all faith in the article. I have seen excellent mothers whose children have died from neglect, excellent husbands who have run away with other people's wives, excellent sons and daughters who have left a kind mother alone in her old age, and excellent friends who have ruined their friends' reputations by backbiting. Never a one of your good men and women for me, if you please. We are all a bad lot together--that is the truth; and the best of us is only a trifle less bad than the others." "But, Philip, do you really know none who has the fear of God in his heart?" "Yes, I know three people who have it--you, and Ned, and Patient. I cannot name a fourth." "O Philip! I wish you were the fourth yourself!" sighed Celia. "So do I, my dear," said Philip, so gravely that Celia looked up into his face to see what he meant. She was perplexed, and scarcely satisfied with what she read there. "Philip," she asked, dropping her eyes again, "do _you_ play at these card-tables?"