t it seems to me
somewhat like the truth. Trying to get into step is interesting and
instructive, and the novitiate, though hardly bearable at times, is
better than sitting in the lonely guest-room. Mother Hilda's
instruction in the novitiate seems childish, yet why is it more
childish than a hundred other things? Only because one is not
accustomed to look at life from the point of view of the convent. As
a guest, I felt it to be impossible to remain in the convent for
three months, and it pleased me, I admit it, and interested me, I
admit it, to try to become part of this conventual life, so
different, so strangely different, from the life of the world, so
remote from common sympathies. In speaking of this life, one hardly
knows what words to employ, so inadequate are words to express one's
meaning, or shall I say one's feeling? 'Actress again,' I hear your
thoughts, Monsignor; 'a woman desirous of a new experience, of new
sensations.' No, no, Monsignor, no; but I confess that the pure
atmosphere of the convent is easier and more agreeable to breathe
than the atmosphere of the world and its delight. To her whose quest
is chastity, it is infinitely agreeable to feel that she is living
among chaste women, the chastity of the nuns seems to penetrate and
enfold me. To the hunted animal a sense of safety is perhaps a
greater pleasure than any other, and one is never really unhappy,
however uncomfortable one's circumstances may be, if one is doing
what one wants to do.... But I am becoming sententious."

In another letter to Monsignor she said:

"This morning I received a long and delightful letter from my father
telling me about the progress he is making, or I should say the
progress that the choir is making under his direction, and how
convinced he found everybody of the necessity of a musical
reformation of some kind, and how gratifying it was to find them
ready to accept his reading of the old music as the one they had been
waiting for all this time. But, Monsignor, does my father exaggerate?
For all this sounds too delightful to be true. Is it possible that
his ideas meet with no opposition? Or is it that an opposition is
preparing behind an ambuscade of goodwill? Father is such an
optimist that any enthusiasm for his ideas convinces him that
stupidity has ended in the world at last. But you will not be duped,
Monsignor, for Rome is your native city, and his appointment of
_capelmeister_ is owing to you, and the kind