"Nay, I know not how. The principles belong to the interior life, and on that I cannot speak."
"Why not? are you sworn to secrecy?" asked Annie. Eugene looked his request for information, but spoke not.
"Not so," said Euphrasie; "but, in the first place, I am no teacher; and, in the second, there are some subjects which can only be approached with reverence, and I am afraid—" she hesitated.
"You are right, mademoiselle," said Eugene; "we have too little reverence."
Euphrasie looked distressed. But Annie broke in with—"But we can be reverent, and we will be reverent when the case demands it. Tell us your principles, dear Euphrasie."
The young girl, with evident reluctance, said:
"My friends held that the soul had been originally endowed with power over the mental faculties, as also over the senses and the appetites of the body, and all inferior nature; and that that empire had been lost through man's fault. They believe that no lasting, no high enjoyment can be procured until that empire has been regained."
"What kind of empire do you mean?" said Annie.
"As thus," replied Euphrasie. "We will our foot to tread here or there, and it obeys us. We will our hands to grasp or to work, and it is done. But when we will our feelings to be calm, or our appetites to keep within certain limits, they do not always obey. We resolve, and find that our resolutions fail. We determine, and do not act. When children, nay, when grown people, are taxed with doing wrong, they reply, 'I could not help it.' This is a confession of failure in self-government, or, as might be said, a proof of empire lost."