The Sieur Angelot understood in a little while that whatever love had inspired her that night she had besought him to rescue her from a life that looked hateful to her young eyes, the passion that influenced her then was utterly dead, abhorrent to her. Better, a thousand times better, that it should be so. He could not make that eager, impetuous girl, whose voice trembled with emotion, whose kisses answered his, whose soft arms clung to his neck, out of this pale, attenuated, bloodless woman. Perhaps it was heroic to give all to her Church. Even men had done this. "And thou art happy and satisfied in this calling, Mignonne," he half assumed, half inquired. Did the old term of endearment touch some chord that was not quite dead, after all? A faint flush brought a wavering heat to her face. "It is my choice. And if I can have my child to train, to keep from evil--" her voice trembled. He shook his head. "Nay, I cannot have her bright young life thrust into the shadow for which she has no taste. She would pine and die." "I thought so once. I should have died sooner in the other life. It is God and his holy Son who give grace." "She will not forsake her duty to the one who has taken such kindly care of her, the Pani woman." "She can come, too. Give me my child, it is all I ask of you. Surely you do not need her." Her voice was roused to a certain intensity, her thin hands worked. But it seemed to him there was something almost cruel in the motion. "I cannot force her will. It is as she shall choose." And seeing Jeanne all eager interest in the doorway of the old cottage, he knew that she would never choose to shut herself out of the radiant sunlight. "Here is the old gift for you, my child;" and he clasped the chain with its little locket round her neck. Pani came and looked at it. "Yes, yes," she said. "It was on thy baby neck, little one. And there are the two letters--" "It was cruel to prick them in the soft baby flesh," the Sieur said, smilingly. "I wonder I had the courage. They alone would prove my right. And now there is no time to waste. Will you make ready--" "I am not often asked among the quality," and her face turned scarlet. "I have no fine attire. Wilt thou be ashamed of me?" She looked so radiant in her girlish beauty, that it seemed to him at the moment there was nothing more to desire. And the delicious archness in her tone captivated him anew. Consign her to convent walls--never! Mam'selle Fleury took charge of Jeanne at once and led her through the large hall to a side chamber. Not so long ago she was a gay, laughing girl, now she was a gravely sweet woman, nursing a sorrow.