ould
see her, that other day, as she stood on a bench, and closed the
windows quietly, lifting her lovely arms. Her wide sleeves fell down
on her shoulders, and while we shivered and shook in terror at the
lightning and the whistling wind she said quietly, "It is quite a
storm." Sister Marie-Aimee made the little girls stand on the other
side of the room. She opened the door wide, and the cat rushed out.

One afternoon I was surprised to see that it was not our old priest who
was saying vespers. This one was a tall, fine man. He sang with a
strong, jerky voice. We talked about him all the evening. Madeleine
said he was a handsome man, and Sister Marie-Aimee thought, she said,
that he had a young voice, but that he pronounced his words like an old
man, and that he was distinguished looking. When he came to pay us a
visit two or three days afterwards, I saw that he had white hair in
little curls round his neck, and that his eyes and his eyebrows were
very black. He asked for those of us who were preparing their
catechism, and wanted to know everybody's name. Sister Marie-Aimee
answered for me. She put her hand on my head and said, "This is our
Marie Claire." When Ismerie came up in her turn he looked at her in
surprise, and made her turn round and walk for him to see. He said
that she was no bigger than a child of three, and when he asked Sister
Marie-Aimee if she was intelligent, Ismerie turned round sharply and
said that she was not as stupid as the rest of us. He burst out
laughing, and I saw that his teeth were very white. When he spoke he
jerked himself forward as though he wanted to catch his words again.
They seemed to drop out of his mouth in spite of himself. Sister
Marie-Aimee took him as far as the gate of the courtyard. She never
used to take any visitors further than the door of the room. She came
back, climbed up to her desk again, and after a moment she said,
without looking at anybody, "He really is a very distinguished man."

Our new priest lived in a little house near the chapel. In the evening
he used to walk in the avenue of linden trees. He often passed close
to the playground where we were playing, and he always used to bow very
low to Sister Marie-Aimee. Every Thursday afternoon he came to see us.
He sat down, leaning against the back of his chair, and crossing his
legs, he told us stories. He was very pleasant, and Sister Marie-Aimee
used to say that he laughed as thoug