“I know not whence my compassion for him springs,” she replied. “But I have visited him in his cell, and fancy I can discern something of good in him.” “Be not deceived, damsel,” said the abbess. “There can be no good in one capable of the crime which this man hath attempted. But if you are in earnest as to his conversion, I promise you you shall have an opportunity of attempting the work. I have interest enough with the Queen for that.” “I am glad to hear you say so, holy mother,” observed the Prince. “And I shall rejoice if the fair Constance succeeds in her attempt. But be this as it may, I do not feel relieved from the weight of obligation I am under to her. When you present her to the Queen, say I shall be well pleased if her Majesty can place her among her gentlewomen.” “I will do more,” rejoined the abbess. “I will use all the influence I possess with her Majesty to see the damsel well bestowed in marriage.” “Not if I can prevent it,” thought Philip. A suspicion in regard to the abbess, which the Prince had begun to entertain, being confirmed, he begged a word with her in private, and on her ready assent, led her into the deep recess of a bay-window. Entirely changing his manner towards her, he then said, “I know not how to account for it, holy mother, but while talking to you I could almost imagine myself engaged in converse with her Majesty.” “A strange supposition,” observed the abbess, in a blander tone than before. “It is the highest compliment I could pay you,” pursued Philip. “That you should resemble so admirable a sovereign is the best proof of your merit.” “I am much flattered by your Highness’s good opinion,” returned the abbess, still more blandly; “but how can you tell that I am like the Queen, since you have never beheld her Majesty?” “I can perfectly judge by the many descriptions given me of her,” said the Prince. “In disposition I am sure you are exactly like her. Remove your hood, I pray you, that I may see whether the resemblance extends to feature.” “I cannot comply with your Highness’s request, as I have a vow which prohibits me from disclosing my countenance to any of your sex,” she replied; “but I will own that I am like the Queen.” “I was quite sure of it,” said Philip. “Permit me for a moment to address you as her Majesty.” “’Tis a strange whim,” replied the abbess, complacently, “and I ought not to consent to it. But your Highness is singularly persuasive. I am not without curiosity to know what you would say to the Queen.” “What I have to say may sound like the language of passion, and may not suit your ears,” rejoined Philip. “But, as the Queen, I may listen to it,” she rejoined, with something of tenderness in her tones.