"Annoy me? No; it terrifies me. God did not intend you to be a nun;
you were born for love. And is there a man in all the world who loves
you half as fondly as I? You are here in Quebec! And I never even
dared dream of such a possibility!"

"I accompanied a dear friend of mine, whose intention to enter the
Ursulines stirred the desire in my own heart. Love? Is any man worthy
of a woman's love? What protestations, what vows to-day! And
to-morrow, over a cup of wine, the man boasts of a conquest, and casts
about for another victim. It is so."

"You wrote a letter to me," he said, remembering. "It was in quite a
different tone." He advanced again.

"Was I so indiscreet?" jestingly, though the rise and fall of her bosom
was more than normal. "Monsieur, do not think for the briefest moment
that I followed you!"

"I know not what to think. But that letter . . ."

"What did I say?"

"You said that France was large, but that if I loved you I would find
you."

"And you searched diligently; you sought the four ends of France?" with
quiet sarcasm.

He could find no words.