“I shall know before long, and if it should be the case so much the better. My mind is made up, and my decision taken.”
“And what is that decision?”
“To abandon my destiny entirely to you both. I am quite certain that neither one nor the other would let me remain at the convent.”
“It would be a fatal event which would decide our future destinies. I would carry you off, and take you to England to marry you.”
“My friend thinks that a physician might be bought, who, under the pretext of some disease of his own invention, would prescribe to me to go somewhere to drink the waters—a permission which the bishop might grant. At the watering-place I would get cured, and come back here, but I would much rather unite our destinies for ever. Tell me, dearest, could you manage to live anywhere as comfortably as you do here?”
“Alas! my love, no, but with you how could I be unhappy? But we will resume that subject whenever it may be necessary. Let us go to bed.”
“Yes. If I have a son my friend wishes to act towards him as a father.”
“Would he believe himself to be the father?”
“You might both of you believe it, but some likeness would soon enlighten me as to which of you two was the true father.”
“Yes. If, for instance, the child composed poetry, then you would suppose that he was the son of your friend.”