I go back on the throne of Saxony, there will be some pleasure to me in discovering your enemies and in avenging you."
"No, no, Milady," said Urbain, "in desiring to shed their blood, I would be as wicked as they. It is a form of enjoyment to me to be unhappy without their being so. Do not trouble the last enjoyment that I have in my retreat."
"You have as much delicacy as piety, Father, and you merit in Heaven a place which those scoundrels will never have."
"And why not, if they are repentant?"
"Venerable and unfortunate Urbain," continued the princess, "will you clarify a little this terrible adventure? Why, when I escaped from the burning fortress of Torgau, followed by Bathilda, this companion of my fate, why were we stopped by people who said they were of your family and under whose sword we thought we were going to perish?"
"I don't know, Milady. I have no relatives in the world and not even a friend to take up my defense having always hidden my misfortunes with the greatest care."
"The hand which has caused your misfortunes, Father, is the same which persecutes me. We must find out who it is."
"Let's not. Vengeance is not so sweet as pardon."
At this moment, the abbess came in to propose to the strangers to see the gardens and the works of the place. Adelaide in a low voice asked Urbain not to tell who she was. The abbess and the two visitors went out followed by the holy man. They found all the nuns digging in the ground.
"What are they doing?" asked the princess.
"Milady," answered Urbain, "they are preparing the soil which will receive them one day. They are softening it with the tears of their penitence, and at night they clothe themselves in the shroud in which they are to be buried. If this unhappy life is only a point in eternity, can one be more interested in anything than the happy instant which ends it? The one who thinks constantly of death does not die; he is already far from life; already the shadows of the night of time surround him, and there is no grief any more at the idea of death. The one who dreads death does not enjoy life. He turns his eyes back toward the path strewn with briars which he has already passed over and thinks about how much more of the path remains to
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