She glanced at him and made a dismissive gesture. “I do not even know who you are. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. “I’ve been to hear you lots of times. Horrible!" "Poor soul! her senses are going again," said Mr.
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