One can not bear to be laughed at. And as for my sister, she
never thinks; she only lives; and she looks it--looks beautiful.
But there, dear Lucie, I must not tire you with my childish
philosophy, though I feel no longer a child. You would not know
your friend. I can not tell what has come over me. Voila!
To-morrow we go to visit General Montcalm, who has just arrived
in the colony. Bigot and his gay set are not likely to be there.
My mother insists that I shall never darken the doors of the
Intendant's palace.
Do you still hold to your former purpose of keeping a daily
journal? If so, I beg you to copy into it this epistle and your
answer; and when I go up to your dear manor house at Beauce next
summer, we will read over our letters and other things set down,
and gossip of the changes come since we met last. Do sketch the
old place for me (as will I our new villa on dear Isle Orleans),
and make interest with the good cure to bring it to me with your
letter, since there are no posts, no postmen, yet between here
and Beauce. The cure most kindly bears this to you, and says he
will gladly be our messenger. Yesterday he said to me, shaking
his head in a whimsical way, "But no treason, mademoiselle, and
no heresy or schism." I am not quite sure what he meant. I dare
hardly think he had Captain Moray in his mind.
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