"And you are burning it!" exclaimed the duke. "All instruments are sources of perdition," said the abbess, in a tone which betrayed the most profound remorse. "Eh, but here is a harpsichord," interrupted the duke. "My harpsichord, monsieur; it was so perfect that it enticed me toward earthly things; I condemned it this morning." "And what are those chests of papers with which they are feeding the fire?" asked Dubois, whom the spectacle seemed to interest immensely. "My music, which I am having burned." "Your music?" demanded the regent. "Yes, and even yours," answered the abbess; "look carefully and you will see your opera of 'Panthée' follow in its turn. You will understand that my resolution once taken, its execution was necessarily general." "Well, madame, this time you are really mad! To light the fire with music, and then feed it with bass-viols and harpsichords is really a little too luxurious." "I am doing penance, monsieur." "Hum, say rather that you are refitting your house, and that this is an excuse for buying new furniture, since you are doubtless tired of the old." "No, monseigneur, it is no such thing." "Well, then, what is it? Tell me frankly." "In truth, I am weary of amusing myself, and, indeed, I intend to act differently." "And what are you going to do?" "I am going with my nuns to visit my tomb." "Diable, monseigneur!" exclaimed the abbe, "her wits are gone at last." "It will be truly edifying, will it not, monsieur?" continued the abbess, gravely. "Indeed," answered the regent, "if you really do this, I doubt not but people will laugh at it twice as much as they did at your suppers." "Will you accompany me, messieurs?" continued the abbess; "I am going to spend a few minutes in my coffin; it is a fancy I have had a long time." "You will have plenty of time for that," said the regent; "moreover, you have not even invented this amusement; for Charles the Fifth, who became a monk as you became a nun, without exactly knowing why, thought of it before you." "Then you will not go with me, monsieur?" said the abbess. "I," answered the duke, who had not the least sympathy with somber ideas, "I go to see tombs! I go to hear the De Profundis! No, pardieu! and the only thing which consoles me for not being able to escape them some day, is, that I shall neither see the one nor the other." "Ah, monsieur," answered the abbess, in a scandalized tone, "you do not, then, believe in the immortality of the soul?" "I believe that you are raving mad. Confound this abbe, who promises me a feast, and brings me to a funeral." "By my faith, monseigneur," said Dubois, "I think I prefer the extravagance of yesterday; it was more attractive." The abbess bowed, and made a few steps toward the door. The duke and Dubois remained staring at each other, uncertain whether to laugh or cry.