In order to furnish an idea of the private establishment of the Bishop of D——, and of the manner in which those two sainted women subordinated their actions, their thoughts, their feminine instincts even, which are easily alarmed, to the habits and purposes of the Bishop, without his even taking the trouble of speaking in order to explain them, we cannot do better than transcribe in this place a letter from Mademoiselle Baptistine to Madame the Vicomtess de Boischevron, the friend of her childhood. This letter is in our possession.

      D——, Dec. 16, 18—.

      MY GOOD MADAM: Not a day passes without our speaking of you. It is our

      established custom; but there is another reason besides. Just imagine,

      while washing and dusting the ceilings and walls, Madam Magloire has

      made some discoveries; now our two chambers hung with antique paper

      whitewashed over, would not discredit a château in the style of yours.

      Madam Magloire has pulled off all the paper. There were things beneath.

      My drawing-room, which contains no furniture, and which we use for

      spreading out the linen after washing, is fifteen feet in height,

      eighteen square, with a ceiling which was formerly painted and gilded,

      and with beams, as in yours. This was covered with a cloth while this

      was the hospital. And the woodwork was of the era of our grandmothers.

      But my room is the one you ought to see. Madam Magloire has discovered,

      under at least ten thicknesses of paper pasted on top, some paintings,

      which without being good are very tolerable. The subject is Telemachus

      being knighted by Minerva in some gardens, the name of which escapes

      me. In short, where the Roman ladies repaired on one single night. What

      shall I say to you? I have Romans, and Roman ladies [here occurs an

      illegible word], and the whole train. Madam Magloire has cleaned it all

      off; this summer she is going to have some small injuries repaired, and

      the whole revarnished, and my chamber will be a regular museum. She has

      also found in a corner of the attic two wooden pier-tables of ancient

      fashion. They asked us two crowns of six francs each to regild them, but

      it is much better to give the money to the poor; and they are very ugly

      besides, and I should much prefer a round table of mahogany.

      I am always very happy. My brother is so good. He gives all he has to

      the poor and sick. We are very much cramped. The country is trying in

      the winter, and we really must do something for those who are in need.

      We are almost comfortably lighted and warmed. You see that these are

      great treats.

      My brother has ways of his own. When he talks, he says that a bishop

      ought to be so. Just imagine! the door of our house is never fastened.

      Whoever chooses to enter finds himself at once in my brother’s room. He

      fears nothing, even at night. That is his sort of bravery, he says.

      He does not wish me or Madame Magloire feel any fear for him. He exposes

      himself to all sorts of dangers, and he does not like to have us even

      seem to notice it. One must know how to understand him.

      He goes out in the rain, he walks in the water, he travels in winter. He

      fears neither suspicious roads nor dangerous encounters, nor night.

      Last year he went quite alone into a country of robbers. He would

      not take us. He was absent for a fortnight. On his return nothing had

      happened to him; he was thought to be dead, but was perfectly well, and

      said, “This is the way I have been robbed!” And then he opened a trunk

      full of jewels,