kill first Chu-Chu and then myself." And I meant it, too. I was really in love with Rosalie.
She said very little after that, and presently wished me good-bye and went away; but she dropped a kiss on my forehead before she went out.
From this time on, both Rosalie and Sœur Anne Marie came often to see me. It took the little Mother Superior some time to get over the effect of the tale, which I had let Rosalie tell her; but Sœur Anne Marie had served through the Franco-Prussian War as a nurse and was no rabbit-heart.
Then one day she said to me: "Mon ami, you must be careful. Our Rosalie is losing her heart."
"She already has mine, ma Mère," I answered, "though it's not much of a bargain for her."
"I am not so sure," she answered. "Though your life has been wrongly lived, I am convinced that your heart is clean. Do you really love the poor child?"
"I love her dearly," I answered, "and I would ask her to marry me if I were sure we might never have to reap some of my early sowing. A man with such a past as mine can never be too confident of the future. I speak only of my sins against the Eighth Commandment, ma Mère."
She was silent and thoughtful for a little while, then answered:
"Rosalie loves you, and I do not think she will ever be happy without you. If, later on, some echo from your past should come to bring pain to you both, she will at least have had her hour and tasted of the fulness of life." She smiled. "We religieuses are sometimes given the power to predicate
