"Oh, yes, certainly. St. Placide is my home to which I return frequently. Before the end of the summer, no doubt."
"The end of the summer! Alas, long before that time I shall be on my way to Nevada, never to return. But will Mademoiselle be so kind as to tell me where she will be staying at Quebec!"
"Certainly, Monsieur," said Gabrielle, pathetically. "At the Convent of the Ursulines."
"A convent! Mon Dieu! Not to take the veil, I hope."
"Oh no," laughed Gabrielle, "not that, although I have sometimes thought of it. No, only to stay a while to receive a little more instruction in music, painting, embroidery, and all that. To finish, to be finished, you know."
"Yes, I know," sighed Pamphile. "It is I who am finished. But such is life. Mademoiselle Taché, you cannot imagine what a pleasure it has been----"
"Yes, and for me also," said Gabrielle, with a sad little smile. "It is such a pleasure to meet strangers, people who are different, you know. No, I shall not forget you. But there is Mama calling me. I must go. Good-bye, Monsieur Lareau. Good luck."
"But Mademoiselle, I have something else to say."
"I cannot wait, Monsieur. Some one is coming."
"Mademoiselle, it is of great importance, a matter of life and death, concerning our friend Monsieur Giroux, something which I must tell to you, and you alone. Well, if you will not, it is all the same to me. Adieu, Mademoiselle. Much pleased, I am sure."