"You think so, Jean, but you are mistaken. Listen. Last evening at midnight I was at my cabin at Lac Desir, thirty miles away, sitting on a log near the door and looking out on the lake--a mirror in which all the stars were reflected. Not a cloud was in the sky. Suddenly there was a flash, as of lightning, and there, in the middle of the lake, stood La Folie; and on the top of the roof lay Jean Baptiste Giroux, yourself, pale as one who is dead. Then the brightness was gone, but still the shadow of the house was on the lake, and would not go away. After a time a light appeared in the window, then a burst of flame; and I saw the people running out of the door, climbing from the windows, the neighbours arriving, with much excitement and confusion and wild gesticulation. But still the body of Jean Baptiste, your body, lay upon the roof, until Pamphile arrived and you were saved. Yes, I saw it all, as in the depths of a crystal. Did I see Pamphile kindle the fire? No, for it was quite dark, you know; but that he did it I have no doubt. It was not the lightning; therefore it was Pamphile. So I knew that you would need me, and I came. Thirty miles through the forest would be a good walk even for a young fellow like you, would it not?" "Indeed it would, Monsieur Gamache, and I thank you for coming. It does me good to talk with you. Already I begin to take courage, to make new plans, to see light ahead. But as to Pamphile, surely you are mistaken. At great risk he led me down from the burning roof. It was the act of a hero, and I have a mind to forgive him for everything--for burning the house, even, if he really did it." "Forgive him if you like, Jean, but watch him all the same. Yes, it will be worth while to watch Pamphile and that witch, Mère Tabeau. They have other plans, without doubt. The fire was only a beginning. Pamphile would kill you, Jean, if he could." "This is interesting, Monsieur Gamache. You make me forget, almost, the loss of my house, and my other troubles." "Other troubles, Jean? What are they, my son? But I know without asking, and I tell you that there is no cause for trouble. She loves you." "No, Monsieur Gamache. On the contrary, she has gone to the convent; for she does not love me, nor anything in the kingdom of earth. It is the heavenly kingdom that she desires, and the good God whom she loves." "Do not believe it, Jean," said the old man, with an inscrutable smile. "It is you only that she loves; and if she thinks of the religious life it is because of love--and pride. But love is stronger than pride. To what convent, Jean?" "The Ursulines, Monsieur Gamache." "The Ursulines. Well, that is not so bad. Teaching sisters. That is not to throw away one’s life altogether. They are good ladies, those sisters of Ste. Ursule. She will be happy there, after a time, after she has forgotten. But to forget--there is the difficulty. Has Mother Sainte Anne forgotten, I wonder?"