will? If you require the assistance of a
man of honour, you have only to say the
word, and I am ready to protect you."

Instead of answering, Sister X. was
choked by her emotion. Her nervous
system, which had been pitilessly and
incessantly tried, was now for the moment so
completely unstrung, that she could no
more cease sobbing, than she could cease
to breathe.

As the officer continued to press his
inquiries, the lay sister replied that her
companion was ill; that she was taking her to
a milder climate for the benefit of her
health; and that she had long been subject
to attacks of this kind. At Bar-le-Duc
the officer left them; but, before getting
out of the coupé, he renewed his offers of
assistance. Sister X. had sufficiently
recovered herself to thank him, and to say
that she was going where they were taking
her to, completely of her own accord. The
young man hesitated, and regarded the
follower with mistrustful looks; his
countenance expressed what was passing in his
mind, and made a strong impression
on the victim. The instant before he left the
diligence, he whispered to her his name
and address, and then said aloud, "If you
want any help, you may reckon upon me."

The lay sister was all eyes and ears.

The first thing she did, after their arrival,
was to give the mother superior, one
Madame Ludivine, a garbled account of
this adventure. According to her, Sister
X. had acted a part in order to attract the
officer's attention; she ran the risk of
causing a horrible scandal; it was possible
the gentleman might be an old acquaintance;
they seemed to understand
each other; perhaps he joined them with the
intention of carrying her off, and so forth.

Madame Ludivine, on Sister X.'s
presenting herself, questioned her in a coarse
and offensive style, quite different to the
custom of the congregation, in which, if
there is no cordiality, the forms of politeness
and good society are at least observed.
The offender frankly avowed the impression
that family recollections had made upon her.

"You are not a true religious, ma sœur,"
harshly replied the superioress, "if, after
three years' profession, you cannot
command your feelings better. It is deplorable
weakness! Try and make a thorough
reform in your conduct; and remember that
you have no right to think of anything else,
except the Bon Dieu and the fulfilment of
your duties. Go; you will make your
beginning here with three days' penitence."

Sister X. knelt, in humble submission to
the rebuke. It seems that she did not bow
her head sufficiently. "Lower than that,"
said the mother, pushing it down with her
hand. "Lower than that. Where do you
come from? Is that the way you have
been used to make genuflexions?"

"Good God!" thought the sister," what
is to become of me? If this is the beginning,
what will be the end?"

Notwithstanding her confusion, she had
time to cast a glance both on the
"superioress" herself and the eccentric luxury of
her reception-room. It required no effort
of imagination to recognise the grande
dame, the wealthy heiress, under the habit
of the recluse. That same evening she
learnt that the young mother superior, so
disdainful and proud, was no other than
Mlle. de Boys-Crespin, in religion Madame
Ludivine. Her fortune and family fully
explained her rapid advancement in
conventual dignities. Although scarcely five–
and-twenty, she had been a superioress for
the last two years.

In this establishment, she reigned like a
queen, delighting in the homage of her
little court. In person, she was above the
middle height, very mundane in style and
manner. She took great care of her
motherly self; her linen was of the finest and
of snowy whiteness. The poor sister who
had to get it up, received more scoldings
than compliments. The stuff for her
religious habit was said to be made expressly
for her. But the perfection of her dress
could not cover the plainness of her face.
Madame Ludivine was blonde, or rather
red-haired; and her low flat forehead was
overgrown by tresses, rebellious to every
kind of water and pomade. Pale blue eyes
with no speculation in them, a broken nose
too short originally, and an ill-cut mouth,
made a whole that was far from attractive.
Nevertheless; at first sight, her ugliness did
not produce its full impression. She had a
beautifully white skin, magnificent teeth,
and a ready smile, when she chose. Her
voice was soft and insinuating with equals
and favourites, although abrupt and
imperious when addressing inferiors, or those
of the sisterhood not admitted to her
intimacy.

Madame's apartments scarcely accorded
with our notions about the lodging of a
virgin, wholly devoted to God. Her salon
was charming, furnished with taste and
whim. You would say that she had tried
to revive the type of the worldly abbesses
of the last century. In temper she was