She loved her daughter devotedly and was happy
in the knowledge that she was as devotedly loved. But this was not the
kind of happiness that could prolong her days.
Notwithstanding all her philosophy, Ninon could not bear the spectacle
presented by her dying parent. Her soul was rent with a grief which
she did not conceal, unashamed that philosophy was impotent to
restrain an exhibition of such a natural weakness. Moreover, her dying
mother talked to her long and earnestly, and with her last breath gave
her loving counsel that sank deep into her heart, already softened by
an uncontrollable sorrow and weakened by long vigils.
Scarcely had Madame de l'Enclos closed her eyes upon the things of
earth, than Ninon conceived the project of withdrawing from the world
and entering a convent. The absence of her father left her absolute
mistress of her conduct, and the few friends who reached her, despite
her express refusal to see any one, could not persuade her to alter
her determination. Ninon, heart broken, distracted and desolate, threw
herself bodily into an obscure convent in the suburbs of Paris,
accepting it, in the throes of her sorrow, as her only refuge and home
on earth.
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