"Sire," exclaimed the priest, "Sire!" and he raised his voice, notwithstanding the repeated admonitions of the Duc de Richelieu that silence should be observed, and that the King was not to be accosted then or there. "Sire, in the name of God, and appealing to the pious traditions of your race, I implore an audience. Reflect that a moment's delay may endanger your hopes of Paradise." The firmness and dignified demeanor of the ecclesiastic produced an extraordinary effect upon his Majesty. He stopped, reflected an instant, and then replied-- "Be it so, Monsieur; after Mass you may come to my closet, I shall hear you there." This strange incident perplexed the court. The Comte and the Baron de Pal---- were well known amongst the courtiers; but their brother, pious and unpresuming, passed unnoticed in a place where no one appeared important unless by the favor they received, or by the influence they possessed. Impelled by curiosity, a crowd surrounded the abbé, and were lost in various conjectures. Mass being over, the door of the royal closet opened, and the captain of the guard advanced and enquired for the abbé to whom the King had promised an audience. The abbé presented himself and was admitted. He addressed the King in terms of profound respect, but protested against the detention of his niece, and also pleaded the cause of the young musketeer and his companions. In speaking of the young lady and her lover, his language was pathetic and persuasive; but he did not hesitate to remind the monarch of the enormity of deliberate, premeditated sin, and of the awful consequences before that tribunal of eternal justice where monarchs would be judged without reference to earthly power, save as to how far they had abused it. He was urging his arguments, when the official entered and presented a letter which the King immediately perused, and raised his eyes and hands in great perturbation. "Ah! Monsieur l'Abbé," he exclaimed, "do not proceed any further. The danger is imminent. Go, invested with plenary authority, at once to the Parc-aux-Cerfs." "Me, sire!" "Yes, you; I want not your indignant looks. Lose not a moment, run, demand Mademoiselle de Pal----." "My niece!" "The same; prevent the accomplishment of her fatal resolution. Let her know that I renounce--but no, she is destroyed; it is all over. Take and read that. My God, how obstinate and self-willed these little girls are!" The abbé, astonished at this event, hastily perused the letter. "Sire," wrote the young lady, "I am apprised that it is by my dishonour the life of the Vicomte de Benavent can be saved. I prefer saving his life by the sacrifice of my own. If you do not wish to be answerable for my fate before an Almighty judge, do not punish a lover whom you have rendered sufficiently miserable already by my untimely death. I shall have ceased to live when this letter meets your eyes."