"One learns to bear everything in this life," Mademoiselle Thérèse replied sententiously, shaking her head and looking as if she knew what it was to suffer acutely. "One is set on earth to learn to 'suffer and grow strong,' as one of your English poets says."
Barbara turned away impatiently, and felt she could gladly have shaken her companion.
"One wants to come to a place like this with nice companions or alone," she thought, and it was this feeling that drove her out on to the ramparts that evening after dinner. She was feeling happy at having successfully escaped from the noisy room downstairs, and thankful to the game of cards that had beguiled Mademoiselle Thérèse's attention from her, when she heard footsteps close beside her, and, turning round, saw Jean Dubois.
"Whatever do you want here?" she said a little irritably; then, hearing his humble answer that he had just come to enjoy the view, felt ashamed of herself, and tried to be pleasant.
"Do you know," she said, suddenly determining to share an idea with him to make up for her former rudeness, "we have seen Mont St. Michel from every side but one—and that is the sea side. I should like to see it every way, wouldn't you? I have just made a little plan, and that is to get up early to-morrow morning, and go out across the sand till I can see it."
"Mademoiselle!" the boy exclaimed. "But is it safe? The sands are treacherous, and many have been buried in them."
"Yes; I know, but there are lots of footsteps going across them in all directions, and I saw some people out there to-day. If I follow the footprints it will be safe, for where many can go surely one may."
It took some time for Jean to grow accustomed to the idea, and he drew his capucine a little closer round him, as if the thought of such an adventure chilled him; then he laid his hand on Barbara's arm.
"I, too," he said, "will see the view from that side. Mademoiselle Barbara, I will come with you."
"But your father? Would he approve, do you think?"