While Frédéric was with Sister Anne, he had talked to her sometimes of the outside world, of his father, and very often of Paris, his birthplace. During the day, while they sat together by the brook, it amused him to draw a picture of the great city for the wondering girl, to describe the pleasures, the plays, the splendid avenues, which make it a place of enchantment. She did not always comprehend what he said, but she listened with wide-open eyes, manifesting her amazement by artless gestures, by curious tokens of surprise; and it amused Frédéric, who was often obliged to tell her stories to satisfy her, for one cannot be always making love. Some people maintain that it is a great pity; they forget that those things which one can do all the time end by losing their value. What Frédéric had told Sister Anne was engraved in her memory. Each day she thought about it more and more, and said to herself: "He is probably in that great city, Paris, that he used to tell me so much about, where he was born. Perhaps his father won't let him come back to me. But if I could go there and find him, if I could once throw myself into his arms, I'm very sure he would be glad to see me. Then he would keep me with him, I would never leave him again, and I should be, oh! so happy! But how can I find my way to Paris?" Every day, the longing to set out in search of her lover became stronger in that loving heart, which could not persuade itself that Frédéric had forgotten her, but believed that the reason he did not return was that someone was keeping him away from her. Marguerite being dead, there was nothing to detain Sister Anne in the woods. In her condition, and bereft as she was of so essential an organ, she ought doubtless to have felt that her cabin was preferable to the dangers, the suffering, and the fatigue that would be her portion in the journey she contemplated; but a woman who loves truly sees neither danger nor suffering; she dares everything, sustained by the hope of seeing once more the object of her affection. Sister Anne, unacquainted with the world, unable to speak, and bearing within her the fruit of her love, determined to leave her home to go in search of her lover; to face every danger, to endure poverty and privations of every sort; and even though she should have to employ years in her search, it seemed to her that every step would bring her nearer to her lover. Having formed her decision, she devoted all her thought to its execution; but she did not wish to leave her cabin and Marguerite's grave to be utterly neglected. Again it was the old shepherd to whom she addressed herself: she led him into the house one morning, and pointed to a small bundle containing her clothing, which she slung over her shoulders, to indicate that she was going away; then she motioned to him to sit down, as if to say: