"The turn of her mind and nature has always been more than bizarre, as a consequence of the detestable bringing up that she received from her mother. But, since her illness, my niece's oddities have grown daily more marked so that, were it not for the reasons you know of, my nephew and myself would long ago have decided, with the consent of the King our master, to lock up in a convent the wayward minx who insists that our priests are imposters, that people do not die, and that we are re-born in flesh and bone to live onward in the stars!" "All of which, my dear Marchioness, is heresy, pure and simple; and worse yet--paganism of the first water. Besides that, there can be nothing more disorderly than Bertha's conduct. She receives with open arms the first tramp who presents himself at the castle's gate, under the pretext of giving alms; at the burg she is called _the good demoiselle_, a sort of indirect insult to her brother. It often happens that she mounts her horse in the morning, and does not return until evening, accompanied, it is true, by an old lackey and old Du Buisson, one of the Count's equerries. Other times she leaves alone on foot upon interminable promenades. To make a long story short, a few days ago, Bertha took the notion of going to the manor of Mezlean, that has long been uninhabited, and of remaining there forty-eight hours at a stretch. Since she returned from that excursion day before yesterday, she has not left her room nor her bed, claiming indisposition, and refusing to admit you, as well as her brother. All this, Marchioness, is more than odd; it verges on mental derangement. For that reason, your own and the Count's tolerance seem to me regrettable and unpardonable. An end must be put to this situation."