"There!" said Monsieur Revel, when she, flew to tell him, "there is
another follower to add to your fawns and kittens. Old Raphael is
considered a crusty fellow everywhere; and you see how different he is
with you!"

"I am very glad," declared Euphrosyne. "It is a pretty sight to amuse
you with, every morning when you wake. It is kind of Raphael; and of
the abbess too."

"I am pleased that the abbess and you should be good friends,
Euphrosyne, because--Ah! that is the way," he said, in a mortified tone,
and throwing himself back in his chair, as he followed with his eyes the
flittings of the girl about the room, after her birds. "You have got
your own way with everybody, and we have spoiled you; and there is no
speaking to you upon a subject that you do not like. You will not hear,
though it is a thing that lies heavy at the heart of a dying old man."

"I will hear you, if you talk to me all my life," said Euphrosyne, with
brimming eyes, seating herself on a low stool at the old man's knees.

"And if you hear me, you will not give me a grave, steady answer."

"Try me," said she, brushing away the gathering tears. "I am not crying
about anything you are going to say; but only because--Oh, grandpapa!
how could you think I would not listen to you?"

"Well, well, my love! I see that you are willing now. You remember
your promise to enter the convent, if I desired it."

"Yes."

"You talk of nothing being changed by our alarm, two days ago, because
this table stands in the middle of the room, and the ants and beetles
have not carried off your pretty work. Hey!"

"May I speak, grandpapa?"

"Speak."

"I said so because nobody's house is burnt, or even robbed; and nobody
has been killed, or even hurt."

"But, nevertheless, there is a great change. Our friends, my old
friends, all whom I feel I could rely upon in case of need, are gone to
France with Hedouville."

"Oh, grandpapa! very few whites are gone--they were chiefly mulattoes
who went with Hedouville; and so many whites remain! And though they
are not, except, perhaps, Monsieur Critois, exactly our friends, yet we
can easily make acquaintance with them."

"No, no, child. If they were not upstarts, as some of them are, and
others returned emigrants, of whom I know nothing, it is too late now
for me to make now friends. My old companions are gone, and the place
is a desert to me."

His hands hung listlessly, as he rested on the arms of his