Paula the Waldensian - Eva Lecomte

As timidly as a child the Breton advanced over the threshold a few
paces, looking about him in a kind of "lost" way until his eyes encountered
Paula, and then he seemed to recover his ease of mind.
"I wish to speak with the Master," he said--directing his words to Teresa.
She led him into the study where my father sat, and left them together
and then joined us in the kitchen once more.
"I declare!" said Rosa. "Think of the Breton calling on us! I thought he
hated father since that day he discharged him from the factory two or three
years ago."
"The Breton knows very well that when your father got rid of him he
well deserved it," said Teresa, as she adjusted her spectacles and settled
down to her knitting.
My father did not keep him long. From the kitchen we could hear the
door open and my father's voice bidding the Breton a kindly "good night"
Evidently the interview, although short, had been quite a cordial one.
"Go, tell the Breton to come into the kitchen, Lisita," said Teresa.
I wondered as I saw him enter with such a humble, frank air, and with a
new look of peace that seemed almost to beautify the brutalized face.
"Mademoiselle Paula," he said as he stopped in the middle of our
kitchen, "I wish to say a word or two."
"To me alone?" said Paula rising.
He hesitated a moment. "No," he said finally, "I think it's better to say it
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