"Yes, our friend, I myself. I have just been on an errand for the Father, and am going home again to make the soup. And you, are you packing your trunks?"
"My trunks?"
"Why, are not you going off to a convent?" said she, laughing.
"Would not you like to see it?" exclaimed Durtal. "Catch me at that! Enlisting as a private subject to a
pious drill, one of a poor squad, whose every movement must mark time, and who, though he is not expected to keep his hands over the seam of his trowsers, is required to hide them under his scapulary—"
"Ta, ta, ta," interrupted the housekeeper, "I tell you once more, you are grudging, bargaining with God—"
"But before coming to so serious a decision it is quite necessary that I should argue all the pros and cons; in such a case some mental litigation is clearly permissible."
She shrugged her shoulders; and there was such peace in her face, such a glow of flame lurked behind the liquid blackness of her eyes, that Durtal stood looking at her, admiring the honesty and purity of a soul which could thus rise to the threshold of her eyes and come forth in her look.
"How happy you are!" he exclaimed.
A cloud dimmed her eyes, and she looked down.