“Have you anything to say to me. Pierre?”
“Only just to take the liberty of asking, Mademoiselle, whether you could not possibly gratify my master in the thing he has set his heart upon. If you could, Mademoiselle, you may rely on it, I would take every care of him in your absence.”
“I have no doubt, Pierre, of your doing your part.”
“Your part and mine are not the same, I know, Mademoiselle. But he is so persuaded of there being danger for you here, that everything you do for him goes to his heart.”
“Have you that idea, Pierre?”
“Indeed, Mademoiselle, I know nothing about it—more than that it takes a long time for people in a town, or an island, to live comfortably together, on equal terms, after having all their lives looked upon one another as tyrants and low revengeful servants.”
“I do not think any one looks on me as a tyrant, or would think of hurting poor grandpapa or me. How you shake your head, Pierre! We have lived seven years in peace and quiet—sometimes being afraid, but never having found cause for fear. However, if grandpapa really is uneasy—”
“That is the point, Mademoiselle. He is so.”
“Do you suppose I could see the abbess, if I were to go to the convent to consult her? It is not late.”
“If the Dumonts were but here still!” said Pierre—“only next door but one! It was a comfort to have them at hand on any difficulty.”