They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. A wide terrace then led to large iron gates,' over which were placed the two celebrated figures of Raving and Melancholy Madness, executed by the elder Cibber, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad, in the wellknown lines:— "Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where, o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand, Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand.
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