The next was Henri’s eight year old sister.
“Can anyone be saved outside of the Church Catholic, Apostolic and Roman?”
“No,” (solemnly,) “out of the Church there is no salvation.”
“Say now the Act of Faith all together.”
“My God,” said the children in unison, “I believe firmly all that the Holy Catholic Church believes and teaches, because it is you who have said it and you are Truth Itself.”
“You may rest yourselves.”
Chrysler was most curious regarding what he heard thus instilled. The thought struck him: “There’s something like that, in our Calvinism too.”
“My dear demoiselle,” he said aloud, “as I am a Protestant—”
“A Protestant, sir!” She regarded him with visibly extraordinary emotions, and involuntarily crossed herself.
“It is impossible!”
It was the first time a Protestant and she had ever been face to face. “Monsieur,” she appealed in agitation “why do you not enter the bosom of the true Church?”
“Must one not act as he believes?”
“But, sir,” said the dear girl, painfully, still regarding him with great wonder, “on studying true doctrine, the saints will make you believe; the priest can baptize you. He will be delighted, I am certain, to save a soul from destruction.” She could not restrain the flow of a tear.
“My child,” Chrysler said, for he saw that curiosity had led him too far: “Leave this to God, who is greater than you or I and knows every heart.”
“Monsieur, then, believes in God!” Her present astonishment was equal to that before.
The rising voices of the children relieved him. That of Elisa, who sat in a ring of the rest, nodding her head decidedly and rhythmically, was conspicuous:
“I am going to join the Sisterhood of the Holy Rosary and go to church early, early, often, often, four times a day, and pray, pray, and say my paters and my aves, and gain my indulgences, and be more devout than Sister Jesus of God; and then I am going to take the novitiate and wear a beautiful white veil and fast every day, and at last—at last—I am going to be a Religieuse.”
“What name will you take, Elisa?”
“I have decided,” the little convent girl responded, “to take the name of ‘Sister St. Joseph of the Cradle.’”
“Mais, that is pretty, that! But I prefer ‘St. Mary of the Saviour.’”
“What are you going to be?” Elisa asked of the smaller girl.
“I will be—I will be—I will take my first communion.”
“I have taken it already,” replied Elisa, with superiority.
“Henri! Henri! it is your turn.”
“I am going to be an advocate.”
“And I am going to be a Rouge,” replied little Rudolphe.
“Hah,—we are all Rouges,” replied Henri.
“O, well—I will be, then—Monseigneur, like Monsieur Chamilly.”