"Know you not that Rouvigny is dead."
"Dead!" she repeated, with clasped hands.
"He died after the skirmish at Le Morne Rouge."
"May God give peace to his spirit—I have prayed for Mm many, many times."
"You are now free."
"Free! Oh, Marie mère de Dieu!" she exclaimed, while the tears fell over her pale face; "I have this day been elected Superior of the Ursulines. Go—go, Monsieur Oliver; for Heaven's sake leave me. We must meet no more; and better had it been for us that we had never met. You have won your epaulettes; fortune favours you, and I rejoice at it. Go on thus, my friend—my dear friend, and prosper."
"Thanks, dear Eulalie."
"In the path you must pursue in life Eulalie will soon be forgotten; but never, while pulsation and human charity remain in her heart, will she forget to pray for you. Adieu, God bless you!"
She pressed her hands upon her breast. I could hear her sob; I stepped towards her; but she hastily withdrew, closed the parlour door, and I was left alone.
I never saw Eulalie again.