METAPHYSICIAN.—I am sorry to inform you, that like myself you are but an imperceptible link in the great chain; that your organs, those of your sparrow, and my own, are destined to subsist a determinate number of minutes in the suburbs of Paris.
SISTER FESSUE.—If so, I was predestined to say a certain number of ave-marias.
METAPHYSICIAN.—Yes; but they have not obliged the Deity to prolong the life of your sparrow beyond his term. It has been so ordered, that in this convent at a certain hour you should pronounce, like a parrot, certain words in a certain language which you do not understand; that this bird, produced like yourself by the irresistible action of general laws, having been sick, should get better; that you should imagine that you had cured it, and that we should hold together this conversation.
SISTER FESSUE.—Sir, this discourse savors of heresy. My confessor, the reverend Father de Menou, will infer that you do not believe in Providence.
METAPHYSICIAN.—I believe in a general Providence, dear sister, which has laid down from all eternity the law which governs all things, like light from the sun; but I believe not that a particular Providence changes the economy of the world for your sparrow or your cat.
SISTER FESSUE.—But suppose my confessor tells you, as he has told me, that God changes His intentions every day in favor of the devout?
METAPHYSICIAN.—He would assert the greatest absurdity that a confessor of girls could possibly utter to a being who thinks.
SISTER FESSUE.—My confessor absurd! Holy Virgin Mary!
METAPHYSICIAN.—I do not go so far as that. I only observe that he cannot, by an enormously absurd assertion, justify the false principles which he has instilled into you—possibly very adroitly—in order to govern you.
SISTER FESSUE.—That observation merits reflection. I will think of it.