"
"Out of the world?"
"I am going into a convent."
"Into a convent!" Newman repeated the words with the deepest dismay;
it was as if she had said she was going into an hospital. "Into a
convent--YOU!"
"I told you that it was not for my worldly advantage or pleasure I was
leaving you."
But still Newman hardly understood. "You are going to be a nun," he went
on, "in a cell--for life--with a gown and white veil?"
"A nun--a Carmelite nun," said Madame de Cintre. "For life, with God's
leave."
The idea struck Newman as too dark and horrible for belief, and made
him feel as he would have done if she had told him that she was going
to mutilate her beautiful face, or drink some potion that would make her
mad. He clasped his hands and began to tremble, visibly.
"Madame de Cintre, don't, don't!" he said. "I beseech you! On my knees,
if you like, I'll beseech you."
She laid her hand upon his arm, with a tender, pitying, almost
reassuring gesture. "You don't understand," she said. "You have wrong
ideas. It's nothing horrible. It is only peace and safety. It is to be
out of the world, where such troubles as this come to the innocent,
to the best. And for life--that's the blessing of it! They can't begin
again."
Newman dropped into a chair and sat looking at her with a long,
inarticulate murmur.
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