fade at once into chill reality. Now, perhaps, he no longer beheld the young and blooming la Valiere, but only the sister Louise de la Misericorde, (which was her name among the Carmelite nuns,) who, with her piety and penitence, was by no means an object suited to the lively disposition of the monarch. What could henceforth be done to retrieve this blunder? It was a subject on which she dared not to speak, and she could only wait in patience the king's unbiassed determination.
The deposition of the Count de Miossen before the Chambre Ardente had now been made known in public, and as it usually happens with the mob, who fly from one extreme to another, the very same individual, who had before been denounced as the most abominable of hypocrites and assassins, and whom they had threatened to tear in pieces, if ho were not immediately brought to the scaffold, was now mourned and lamented over as the innocent victim of a barbarous and unrelenting judge. Now, for the first time, the neighbors began to recollect with what exemplary piety he had always conducted himself among them, his regular attendance at church, and the faithful industry with which he had served the old goldsmith. Nay, great bands of people often assembled in a threatening manner before the house of la Regnie and shouted aloud, "We come to demand freedom for Olivier Brusson—bring him out to us immediately, for he is innocent!" At last they began to throw stones at the windows; so that la Regnie was obliged to send to the Marechaussee for protection.
Several days passed over, and de Scuderi had not received any intimation how the process was going on. Quite restless and miserable, she at last betook herself to de Maintenon, who assured her that the king had never said one word on the subject, and that it would be by no means prudent to remind him of it. Afterwards, when she inquired with an ironical smile for the little la Valiere, de Scuderi was convinced that, in this proud woman's heart, there existed some feeling of
