“If they were here, I should not consult them. They were so prejudiced against all the mulattoes, and put so little trust in L’Ouverture himself—as indeed their going off in such a hurry with Hédouville proves—that I should not have cared for their opinion to-night. Suppose you step to the convent, Pierre, and ask whether the lady abbess could see me for half-an-hour on business. If I am to leave grandpapa, I should like to tell him in the morning that it is all settled.”
Pierre went with alacrity, and was back in three minutes, when he found Euphrosyne shawled and veiled for the visit. The lady awaited her.
“What can I do for you, my child?” said the abbess, kindly seating Euphrosyne beside her, in her parlour.
“You will tell me what you think it is my duty to do, when I have told you my story. I know I have laughed and joked too much about this very matter; and that partly because I had a will of my own about it. But it is all serious enough now; and I really do wish to find out my duty upon it.”
“In order to do your duty, whatever it may cost you?”
“Certainly.”
She then told her story. The lady at length smiled, and observed—
“You have no very strong inclination to join us, I perceive.”
“Not any,” frankly replied Euphrosyne. “I have no doubt the sisters are very happy. They choose their way of life for themselves. I only feel it is one that I should never choose. Nor would grandpapa for me, for more than a short time. I hope, madam, you understand that we neither of us think of my ever becoming a nun.”
“I see that there is no present sign of its being your vocation.”