No pains were spared with Sophie’s education, and the best masters of the day were engaged to teach her all the arts and accomplishments. Before she was twelve, she could both write and speak her own language correctly--a rare accomplishment in those days outside literary circles,[3] and was familiar with Latin or Italian; while she could sing like a professional. Her musical talents were not destined to remain long hidden. When the time for her first communion drew near, she was placed in the Ursuline Convent at Saint-Denis, the _supérieure_ of which was a fellow townswoman and friend of Madame Arnould. Here she sang in the choir, and with such astonishing success that Court and town flocked to hear her, and Voltaire, from his retreat at Ferney, wrote to his little friend a letter congratulating her on her twofold success as a vocalist and a first communicant; an epistle which Madame Arnould, who did not share the Patriarch’s views on matters of religion, promptly committed to the fire, although the Duc de Nivernais begged for a copy on his knees. On leaving Saint-Denis, Sophie returned to live with Madame de Conti, who, delighted by the notice which she had attracted, provided her with the most celebrated music-masters to be found in France: Balbatre gave her lessons on the harpsichord, and the famous Jéliotte--Jéliotte, the pride of the Opera!--Jéliotte, “the happy and discreet conqueror of all the fair ladies in Paris!”--condescended to sing with her. Sophie proved herself worthy of her teachers. It was then the fashion, among ladies of rank, to do penance during Lent by retiring to one of the many convents in Paris or its neighbourhood. Some of the visitors were, of course, sincerely desirous of benefiting by the services, the conversation of the nuns, and the opportunities for meditation which these peaceful abodes afforded; but to the majority the practice would appear to have been regarded merely as a kind of rest cure. There was nothing at all austere or conventual about the life for such as these. They rose late, walked in the gardens, dined on plain but well-cooked food, received visits from their friends, attended a service or two, supped, and retired early to bed; and if their souls did not greatly benefit, the early hours and simple fare worked wonders with their complexions. They had, too, an opportunity of listening to some very beautiful singing; for, during Holy Week, the convents vied with one another in engaging the finest voices of the Opera to reinforce their choirs, and the services of such singers as Jéliotte, Chassé, and Mlles. Fel, Chevalier, and Anna Tonelli were always in great request.