"Ah," said Madeleine, relaxing her hold, "then if I were to do
something you thought very naughty, you would not love me any
more?"

"Indeed, I don't know. You are not going to be naughty, I
hope?" answered the nun; "but I can't wait any longer now.
Make haste, and go to bed quietly."

She hurried out of the room as she spoke. Madelon listened
till the sound of her footsteps died away; and then, without a
moment's further pause or hesitation, began pulling together a
few things into a small bundle. She had no time to waste in
vain regrets: what she had to do must be done quickly, or not
at all. A dozen windows overlooked the garden, and presently
the nuns would be returning to their cells, and her chances
would be over. Even now it was possible that one or another
might have been detained from the chapel, but that she must
risk; better that, she thought, than to wait till later, when
a prolonged vigil or a wakeful sister might be the cause of
frustrating all her hopes and plans. She had no fear of her
flight being discovered before the morning. Since her illness
she had always gone to bed early, and Soeur Lucie never did
anything more than put her head in at the door, on her way to
her own room, which was in a different part of the building,
to see that all was dark and quiet; and if Madelon did not
speak, would go away at once, satisfied that she was asleep.

The chapel bell was still ringing as she went swiftly about
her few preparations, but it had ceased by the time the small
bundle was made up, and Madelon, in her hat and cloak, stood