Last evening, agitated by my thoughts, I recollected the paleness and languor of my poor child, and that she was obliged to pass almost all the night in the church in prayer. I sent Murphy and David to demand the Princess Juliana's permission to remain until the morrow in the mansion that Henry occupied usually; thus my child would have prompt assistance, and I prompt intelligence, in case that her strength failed under this rigorous, I will not say cruel, obligation to pass the whole of a cold winter's night in the church. [Illustration: "In the Church in Prayer" Original Etching by Mercier] I wrote to Fleur-de-Marie that, whilst I respected her religious exercises, I besought her to watch in her cell and not in the church. This was her reply: "_My dear Father_:--I thank you for this fresh proof of your tenderness, but be not alarmed, I am sufficiently strong to perform my duty. Your daughter must be guilty of no weakness. The rule orders it, I must submit. Should it cause me some physical sufferings, how joyfully shall I offer them to God! Adieu, dear father! I cannot say I pray for you, because whenever I pray to Heaven I cannot help remembering you in my prayers. You have been to me on earth what God will be, if I merit it, in heaven. Bless your child, who will be to-morrow the spouse of Heaven. "SISTER AMELIE." This letter, in some measure, reassured me; however I had, also, a vigil to keep. At nightfall I went to a pavilion I had built, near my father's monument, in expiation of this fatal night. About one o'clock I heard Murphy's voice. He came from the convent in order to inform me that, as I had feared, my unhappy child, spite of her resolution, had not had sufficient strength to accomplish this barbarous custom. At eight o'clock in the evening Fleur-de-Marie knelt and prayed until midnight, but, overpowered by her emotion and the intense cold, she fainted; two nuns instantly raised her, and bore her to her cell. David was instantly summoned, and Murphy came to me. I hastened to the convent, where the abbess assured me that my daughter's swoon, from which she had recovered, had been caused only by her weakness, but that David feared that my presence might seriously affect her. I feared they were preparing me for something more dreadful, but the superior said: "I assure you, monseigneur, the princess is in no danger; the restorative the doctor has given her has greatly recruited her strength." David soon returned. She was better, but had insisted upon continuing her vigil, consenting only to kneel upon a cushion. "She is in the church, then?" cried I. "Yes, monseigneur, but she will quit it in a quarter of an hour."