The queen went directly to her oratory, musing all the way, as she walked through the gallery, upon the subject; turning it this way and that way in her fancy— Ave Maria! ⸻what can La Fosseuse mean? said she, kneeling down upon the cushion.
La Guyol , La Battarelle , La Maronette , La Sabatiere , retired instantly to their chambers⸻Whiskers! said all four of them to themselves, as they bolted their doors on the inside.
The Lady Carnavallette was counting her beads with both hands, unsuspected, under her farthingal⸺from St. Antony down to St. Ursula inclusive, not a saint passed through her fingers without whiskers; St. Francis , St. Dominick , St. Bennet , St. Basil , St. Bridget , had all whiskers.
The Lady Baussiere had got into a wilderness of conceits, with moralizing too intricately upon La Fosseuse’s text⸺She mounted her palfrey, her page followed her⸺the host passed by—the Lady Baussiere rode on.
One denier, cried the order of mercy—one single denier, in behalf of a thousand patient captives, whose eyes look towards heaven and you for their redemption.
⸺The Lady Baussiere rode on.
Pity the unhappy, said a devout, venerable, hoary-headed man, meekly holding up a box, begirt with iron, in his withered hands⸺I beg for the unfortunate—good my Lady, ’tis for a prison—for an hospital—’tis for an old man—a poor man undone by shipwreck, by suretyship, by fire⸺I call God and all his angels to witness⸺’tis to clothe the naked⸺to feed the hungry⸺’tis to comfort the sick and the brokenhearted.
The Lady Baussiere rode on.