"Ha, Damoiselle! The Damoiselle has used a deep, strong word. Satisfy! I believe nothing will satisfy any living heart of man or woman,—except that one thing."
"What one thing?"
"I am an ignorant villein, my Damoiselle. I do not know the holy Latin tongue, as ladies do. But now and then Father Eudes will render some words of the blessed Evangel into French in his sermon. And he did so that day—when I was satisfied."
"What was it that satisfied thee, then, Margot?"
"They were words, Father Eudes said, of the good God Himself, when He walked on middle earth among us men. 'Come unto Me,' He said, 'all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'"
"But I do not understand, Marguerite. How did those words satisfy thee?"
"The words did not, Damoiselle. But the thing did. I just took the blessed Lord at His word, and went to Him, and, thanks be to His holy Name, He gave me rest."
"What dost thou mean, Margot?"
"Will the dear Damoiselle not come and try? She will want rest, some day."
"Had I not better wait till I am tired?" said I, laughingly.