"At least, it is strange, if not supernatural," said the princess. "But you are in the company of this man?"
"Then why not appeal to the authorities, your parents, the ecclesiastical powers?"
"He so watched me that I could not move."
"On the road, he stopped at houses where everything is owned by him and he is master of everybody. When I asked the people about for writing materials, they gave no answer; they were his bondwomen."
"At first in a postchaise; but at Milan, he had a kind of house on wheels to continue the journey in."
"Still, he must have left you alone sometimes?"
"Yes; but then he bade me sleep, and sleep I did, only waking up when he returned."
"You could not have strongly wanted to get away," observed Princess Louise, shaking her head, "or else you would have managed it."
"Seldom did he speak of love, and I remember me of no caresses save a kiss night and morning."
"Really, this is very strange?" muttered the abbess; but as a suspicion struck her, she resumed: "Repeat to me that you do not love him, and that as no worldly tie unites you, he would have no claim on you if he came."
"But tell me how you came here through all; for I am in a fog," said the princess.
"I took advantage of a violent thunderstorm, which broke on us near a town called Nancy, I believe. He left me to go into a part of his travelling house which is inhabited by an old man; I leaped upon his horse and fled. My resolution was to hide in Paris, or some great city where I could be lost to all eyes, especially to his. When I arrived here, all were talking of your highness' retirement into the Carmelite convent. All extolled your piety, solicitude for the unhappy, and compassion for the afflicted. This was a ray of heavenly light, showing me that you alone were generous enough to receive me and powerful enough to defend me."
"You continually appeal to power, my child, as though he were powerful?"
"I am ignorant what he is. I only know that no king inspires more respect--no idol commands more adoration--than he from those to whom he deigns to reveal himself."
"I have heard him called by many names. But only two remain in my memory. One is used by the old man who is his traveling companion from Milan to where I left him; the other that he gives himself. The aged man calls him Acharat, and that sounds anti-Christian, does it not, lady? He calls himself Joseph Balsamo."