"Where are you going, Jean Baptiste?"
Jean stopped instantly, and stared in dumb surprise; for there was Gabrielle standing before him in a hunting suit of tanned buckskin, a light rifle on her arm--a veritable Diana of the wilderness.
"Speak, Jean! Say something, for goodness' sake. I am not a ghost, nor a holy picture descended from its frame. It is I, Gabrielle."
"As I see," said Jean, raising his cap and offering his hand. "Welcome to Lac Desir, Gabrielle."
"Lac Desir! What a pretty name! Where is Lac Desir, Jean? Which way?"
"Come, Gabrielle; I will show you. It is only a step or two. I was coming away, but now I will gladly return. This way, if you please. It is a rough path, and steep. Take my hand, will you not? Now we are at the foot of the hill, and there, under the trees, is the cabin--my hermitage. It is not much like the Ursulines, I should say. You were there, were you not?"
"Yes, certainly, I was there for a while; but I have escaped, as you see. I could not say so many prayers--it was too fatiguing--and I had to have a little vacation in the country. Soon I will return."
"Return?" exclaimed Jean, in dismay. "That would be a pity. Do not return to the convent, Gabrielle."
"Why not, then? It is a pleasant place, the convent, so quiet, so peaceful; and the sisters are so good, so dear. And it is a place where one can make one's salvation."
"Salvation, you say, in a convent, in a little cell? How can one find that between four walls? It is something that belongs to the open air, Gabrielle; something that comes with the sunshine. No, it is here that one finds true peace, rest for the soul--salvation, if you like."