Together with this lengthy homily, and as if to counter-balance the effect produced by such humble declarations, d’Eon was careful to send his own portrait and his pamphlets. He also promised to read to his correspondent a few letters addressed to his uncle “by Madame de Maintenon and her bosom friend, the Comtesse de Caylus,” of which he possessed the originals. Sister de Durfort replied immediately: You are to be admired in everything, Mademoiselle, whether wielding the pen or the sword; your letter is delightful, and I shall keep it as carefully as a miser keeps his hoard. It reveals the treasures of your inner life, which are still more precious than your well-known moral, political, and martial virtues, to which I pay the homage they deserve. Our Mother Superior and all the ladies here thank you, Mademoiselle, for the engraving you have sent. Your features cannot be too often portrayed in an age when heroic deeds are few and when heroines would be unknown but for you. Two days later the mother-superior invited d’Eon to witness a taking of the veil at the convent. Hearing that d’Eon was unwell she expressed the hope that the illustrious patient’s fever would soon abate, and, with a view to her recovery, she sent some leverets and partridges “from the preserves of the community.” Such delicate attentions, and above all the fervent admiration of these saintly ladies, embarrassed d’Eon, who sank under the burden of his remorse in this onset of courtesy and humility. I am leaving, Madame, the Abbey of Haute-Bruyère, where Mademoiselle de Torigny, after having refused a most advantageous marriage, from a worldly point of view, has left all in order to espouse the poverty and sufferings of the cross of Jesus Christ, and lead the life of the holy women who, by the purity and sweetness of their lives, render their solitude and their religion as attractive as their society. This spectacle, almost incredible, which I had never before witnessed, has saddened me and stirred my soul more than anything, however marvellous, that I ever beheld in my campaigns. It is no doubt to humble my pride, and to confound my worldly courage, that you wish me to witness again, on Monday next, the touching sacrifice of the two royal victims of your convent, who, like two innocent white doves, are to be plucked and immolated before my eyes on the altar of the King of Kings.