“You can spend the evening in writing to your friend,” said she; “and if you think proper to tell her that I know her secret, you may assure her of my blessing and my prayers. They are due to one who loves my dear charge as she does.”
Euphrosyne’s cheeks were now no longer pale.
“And may I tell her, madam, what Madame Ogé has been declaring about Bonaparte and his threats?”
“It will be needless, my dear. If there be any truth in the matter, Monsieur Pascal, doubtless, knows more than Madame Ogé.”
“In that case there can be no harm in mentioning it.”
Still the abbess thought it would be safer to say nothing about it; and Euphrosyne gave up the point for to-night, remembering that she could perhaps send a private despatch afterwards by the hands of Pierre.
During the meal, while the length of the table was between them, Euphrosyne nearly escaped the notice of Madame Ogé. When it was over, and the sisters rose, while the guest and the abbess passed out to the parlour, the abbess stopped at Euphrosyne, kissed her forehead, and commended her to her studies. Madame Ogé stopped too, and put in an intercession that the young lady might be excused studying this evening, and permitted to return to her pretty fancy-work in the parlour. The colour rushed to Euphrosyne’s temples—a sign of ardent hope of a holiday in Madame Ogé’s eyes. She therefore thought the abbess grievously strict when she replied that her charge would prefer spending the evening in her own chamber.
“As you please,” said Madame Ogé. “It was my wish to do the child a kindness; and perhaps to have the pleasure myself of seeing a young face for an hour or two—the rarest of all sights to me. I seldom go out; and when I do, all the young and cheerful faces seem to have hidden themselves.”
The abbess regulated her invitations for the evening by this speech. Sisters Debora and Marie, one the youngest, and the other the merriest of the family, were requested to bring their work-bags, and join the party in the parlour.
“Good evening, young lady,” said Madame Ogé to Euphrosyne, holding out her hand. “I hoped to have procured you a little freedom, and to have had more conversation about your hero; but—”