with their hands crossed in their large sleeves, their faces as
white as their snowy caps, and their long strings of beads, set off
with numerous copper medals, clanking when they walked like prisoners'
chains. As a rule, each face wore the same expression of resignation,
unvarying gentleness, and inexhaustible patience. But there were some
who wore it only as one wears a mask--some whose eyes gleamed at
times with passion, and who vented their cold, bitter anger upon us
defenceless children. However, there was one sister, still young and
very fair, whose manner was so gentle and so sad that even I, with
my mere infantile intelligence, felt that she must have some terrible
sorrow. During play-time she often took me on her knee and embraced me
with convulsive tenderness, murmuring: 'Dear little one! darling little
one!' Sometimes her endearments were irksome to me, but I never allowed
her to see it, for fear of making her still more sad; and in my heart I
was content and proud to suffer for and with her. Poor sister! I owe her
the only happy hours of my infancy. She was called Sister Calliste. I
do not know what has become of her, but often, when my heart fails me, I
think of her, and even now I cannot mention her name without tears."

Mademoiselle Marguerite was indeed weeping--big tears which she made no
attempt to conceal were coursing down her cheeks. It cost her a great
effort to continue: "You have already understood, monsieur, what I
myself did not know for several years. I was in a foundling asylum, and
I was a foundling myself. I cannot say that we lacked anything; and I
should be ungrateful if I did not say and feel that these good sisters
were charity personified. But, alas! their hearts had only a certain
amount of tenderness to distribute between thirty poor little girls, and
so each child's portion was small; the caresses were the same for all,
and I longed to be loved differently, to have kind words and caresses
for myself alone. We slept in little white beds with snowy curtains,
in a clean, well-ventilated dormitory, in the centre of which stood a
statue of the Virgin, who seemed to smile on us all alike. In winter we
had a fire. Our clothes were warm and neat; our food was excellent.
We were taught to read and write, to sew and embroider. There was a
recreation hour between all the exercises. Those who were studious and
good were rewarded; and twice a week we were taken into the country for
a long walk.