I therefore went to the Superior and told her the truth about it, for I thought a candid confession on my part might, perchance, procure forgiveness for the nun, if not for myself. But no; they punished us both; the nun for telling the lie, and me for getting the brandy. For two hours they made me stand with a crown of thorns on my head, while they alternately employed themselves in burning me with hot irons, pinching, and piercing me with needles, pulling my hair, and striking me with sticks. All this I bore very well, for I was hurt just enough to make me angry. When I returned to the kitchen again, the nun was sitting there alone. She shook her head at me, and by her gestures gave me to understand that some one was listening. She afterwards informed me that the Superior was watching us, to see if we would speak to each other when we met. I do not know how they punished her, but I heard a priest say that she would die if she suffered much more. Perhaps they thought the loss of that precious bottle of brandy was punishment enough. But I was glad I got it for her, for she had one good dose of it, and it did her good; her stomach was stronger, her appetite better, and in a few weeks she regained her usual health. One day, while at work as usual, I was called up stairs with the other nuns to see one die. She lay upon the bed, and looked pale and thin, but I could see no signs of immediate dissolution. Her voice was strong, and respiration perfectly natural, the nuns were all assembled in her room to see her die. Beside her stood a priest, earnestly exhorting her to confess her sins to him, and threatening her with eternal punishment if she refused. But she replied, "No, I will not confess to you. If, as you say, I am really dying, it is with my God I have to do; to him alone will I confess, for he alone can save." "If you do not confess to me," exclaimed the priest, "I will give you up to the devil." "Well," said she, "I stand in no fear of a worse devil than you are, and I am quite willing to leave you at any time, and try any other place; even hell itself cannot be worse. I cannot suffer more there than I have here." "Daughter," exclaimed the priest, with affected sympathy, "must I give you up? How can I see you go down to perdition? It is not yet too late. Confess your sins and repent." "I have already confessed my sins to God, and I shall confess to no one else. He alone can save me." Her manner of saying this was solemn but very decided. The priest saw that she would not yield to his wishes, and raising his voice, he exclaimed, "Then let the devil take you."