"I find the church is merciful as well as wise, in imposing celibacy upon its priesthood," said father Walter, with a cold sarcastic smile. "But, indeed, I think it would be better, not to tell Mademoiselle d'Albret to-night. She must be fatigued; her mind depressed with disappointment and anxiety; and she should be allowed some time for repose." "No, father, no!" replied Madame de Chazeul. "She must know it to-night, for the marriage shall take place to-morrow, or, at farthest, the next day. Let her have to-night for grief--for I do not say she will not weep--to-morrow her mind will be made up, and the affair can proceed with decency." "Will you tell her, father Walter?" said Monsieur de Liancourt. "Nay," exclaimed the Marchioness, "why give him that trouble? I will do it in a moment." "No, Jacqueline, you shall not go," cried the Count. "You are too harsh and fierce to bear such tidings.--Go, Father, go!--It is an office of Christian charity." "She is more likely to believe it from my lips, than yours, Madam," said father Walter, "and therefore I will undertake the task; but I must be quick, for I have my watch to commence in the chapel." "Let us hear how she bears it," said the Count de Liancourt. "I grieve for the poor girl." "Pshaw!" cried Jacqueline de Chazeul; and the priest quitted the hall, leaving the Marchioness evidently uneasy. A chamber had now been assigned to Rose d'Albret, higher in the building than that which she had formerly tenanted, and next to the room of father Walter himself. It opened first into an ante-chamber, somewhat smaller than the other, and thence upon a large landing place, separated from the stairs by a balustrade. The ante-room, as before, was occupied by the maid Blanchette, who, well warned and tutored, was kept as a spy upon all her mistress's actions; and, on entering this little suite of apartments, the girl was the first person whom father Walter encountered. She was sitting at a table, knitting, with a sullen brow and pouting lips; and, notwithstanding deep habitual reverence for the priest, she seemed scarcely willing to answer him civilly, when he inquired, if he could speak with her mistress. "I cannot tell," replied the girl, rising for a moment, and resuming her seat; "I really do not know what she is doing,--she does not want my services, she says; she would rather be alone." "Go and see, daughter!" said the priest. "Doubtless Mademoiselle d'Albret is grieved and perhaps angry; but that does not exempt you from respect and obedience towards her in all things, where other duties do not require you to oppose her wishes."