I retired, filled with confusion and inquietude. The next morning I failed not as usual to appear in the garden; but Agnes was nowhere to be seen. At night I waited for her at the place where we generally met; I found no better success. Several days and nights passed away in the same manner. At length I saw my offended mistress cross the walk on whose borders I was working: she was accompanied by the same young pensioner, on whose arm she seemed from weakness obliged to support herself. She looked upon me for a moment, but instantly turned her head away. I waited her return; but she passed on to the convent without paying any attention to me, or the penitent looks with which I implored her forgiveness.

As soon as the nuns were retired, the old gardener joined me with a sorrowful air.