The door was open, for madame was not at prayer. She stood at the open window, looking out upon the sea. Alixe could not see her face, but from the line of her shoulders she read much of her lady’s heart. “Madame,” she said, in a half-whisper. Eleanore turned quickly. “Alixe!” “Madame Eleanore—mother—” A terrible sob broke from the older woman’s throat, and suddenly she fell upon her knees beside a wooden settle, and, burying her face in her hands, finally gave way to her desolation. Alixe, who had opened her heart, now comforted her as best she could, soothing her, caressing her, whispering to her in a magnetic, gentle voice, till madame’s grief had been nearly washed away. Then the young girl said, softly, in her ear: “Think, madame! ’tis now but eleven days till thou mayest ride out to Laure at the priory. And there thou canst talk with her alone, and for as long as thou wilt. Also, when her novitiate is at an end, she may come here to thee, once in a fortnight, for so the Mother-prioress hath said.” Eleanore held Alixe’s hand close to her breast, and while she stroked it, a little convulsively, she said, with returning self-control: “I thank thee—I thank thee—Alixe, for thy good comfort.” Then, in a different tone, she added, with a little sigh: “Eleven days—eleven ages—how many others have I still to spend—alone?” [Illustration] _CHAPTER TWO_ THE SILENCE OF YOUTH [Illustration] The priory-convent of the Virgins of the Magdalen was as old as any nunnery in Brittany of its repute. It had been founded in the early days of the tenth Louis of France and his good lady of Burgundy, long before the death of the last of the Dreux lords of the dukedom. It was celebrated for more than its age, however; for through three centuries it had held in ecclesiastic Brittany, for its wealth, its exclusiveness, and, above either of these things, its unswerving chastity, a place as unique as it was gratifying. In the year 1381 no breath of scandal had ever disturbed its fragrant atmosphere. Moreover, though this was a fact not much regarded by people in authority, it was a remarkably comfortable little house, of excellent architecture and ample room for the practice of any amount of worship. Its situation, however, was lonely. It stood nearly at the end of the Rennes coast road, on the outskirts of a thick forest, twenty miles from the town of St. Nazaire-by-the-sea, and twelve from the Chateau of Le Crépuscule. And it was here, in this pleasant if austere retreat, that many a noble lady of Laval and Crépuscule had ended her youth and worn her life away in the endeavor to attain undying sanctity.