the sincerity of the words. Thinking herself lucky that
the young girl should put this construction upon the affair, she smiled
upon her affectionately, and stretched out her arms to her, saying: "It
is well, my dear daughter. Come and embrace me!"

"Mother--I am really confused--with so much kindness--"

"No--you deserve it--your words are so full of truth and honesty. Only
be persuaded that I have not put you to any trial, because there is no
resemblance between the act of a spy and the marks of filial confidence
that we require of our members for the sake of watching over their
morals. But certain persons--I see you are of the number, my dear
daughter--have such fixed principles, and so mature a judgment, that
they can do without our advice and guardianship, and can appreciate
themselves whatever might be dangerous to their salvation. I will
therefore leave the entire responsibility to yourself, and only ask you
for such communications as you may think proper to make."

"Oh, madame! how good you are!" said poor Mother Bunch, for she was
not aware of the thousand devices of the monastic spirit, and thought
herself already sure of gaining just wages honorably.

"It is not goodness--but justice!" answered Mother Sainte-Perpetue,
whose tone was becoming more and more affectionate. "Too much tenderness
cannot be shown to pious young women like you, whom poverty has only
purified because they have always faithfully observed the divine laws."

"Mother--"

"One last question, my child! how many times a month do you approach the
Lord's table?"

"Madame," replied the hunchback, "I have not taken the sacrament since
my first communion, eight years ago. I am hardly able, by working every
day, and all day long, to earn my bread. I have no time--"

"Gracious heaven!" cried the superior, interrupting, and clasping her
hands with all the signs of painful astonishment. "Is it possible? you
do not practise?"

"Alas, madame! I tell you that I have no time," answered Mother Bunch,
looking disconcertedly at Mother Saint-Perpetue.

"I am grieved, my dear daughter," said the latter sorrowfully, after a
moment's silence, "but I told you that, as we place our friends in none
but pious houses, so we are asked to recommend none but pious persons,
who practise their religious duties. It is one of the indispensable
conditions of our institution. It will, therefore, to my great regret,
be impossible for me to employ you as I had hoped.