The regent read and re-read the letter of Mademoiselle de Chartres, trying to discover, by the expression of her desire to remain at Chelles, the secret causes which had given rise to it. Then, after an instant of meditation, as deep as if the fate of empires depended on it:
"There is some love pique here," said he; "do you know if Louise loves any one?"
Madame told the regent the adventure of the opera, and the exclamation of the princess, in her admiration for the handsome tenor.
"Diable!" cried the regent, "and what did you and the Duchesse d'Orleans do in your maternal council?"
"We showed Cauchereau the door, and forbade the opera to Mademoiselle de Chartres; we could not do less."
"Well!" replied the regent, "there is no need to seek further. We must cure her at once of this fancy."
"And how will you do that, my son?"
"I will go to-day to the Abbey des Chelles, and interrogate Louise. If the thing is but a caprice, I will give it time to pass off. I will appear to adopt her views, and, in a year hence, when she is to take the veil, she herself will come and beg us to free her from the difficulty she has got herself into. If, on the contrary, the thing is serious, then it will be different."
"Mon Dieu!" said madame, rising, "remember that poor Cauchereau has, perhaps, nothing to do with it, and that he is even ignorant of the passion he has inspired."
"Do not be afraid," replied the prince, laughing at the tragic interpretation which the princess, with her German ideas, had given to his words. "I shall not renew the lamentable history of the lovers of the Paraclete; Cauchereau's voice shall neither lose nor gain a single note in this adventure, and we do not treat a princess of the blood in the same manner as a little bourgeoise."