One day a woman came into my cell, dressed in white, a white cap on her head, and so very pale she looked more like a corpse than a living person. She came up to me with her mouth wide open, and stood gazing at me for a moment in perfect silence. She then asked, "Where have you been?" "Into the world," I replied. "How did you like the world?" "Very well," said I. She paused a moment, and then asked, "Did you find your friends?" "No, ma'am," said I, "I did not." Another pause, and then she said, "Perhaps you will if you go again." "No," I replied, "I shall not try again." "You had better try it once more," she added, and I thought there was a slight sneer in her tone; "Perhaps you may succeed better another time." "No," I replied, "I shall not try to run away from the nunnery again. I should most assuredly be caught and brought back, and then they would make me suffer so much, I assure you I shall never do it again." She looked at me a moment as though she would read my very soul, and said, "And so you did not find your friends, after all, did you?" I again told her that I did not, and she seemed satisfied with the result of her questioning. When she came in, I was pleased to see her, and thought I would ask her for something to eat, or at least for a little cold water. But she seemed so cold-hearted, so entirely destitute of sympathy or kind feeling, I had no courage to speak to her, for I felt that it would do no good. Perhaps I misjudged her. I knew from her looks that she must have been a great sufferer; but I have heard it said that extreme suffering sometimes hardens instead of softening the heart, and I believe it. It seemed to me that this woman had suffered so much herself, that every kind feeling was crushed out of her soul. I was glad when she left me, locking the door after her. Four days they kept me in this cell, and for five days and nights I had not tasted food or drink. I endured the most intolerable agonies from hunger and thirst. The suffering produced by hunger, when it becomes actual starvation, is far beyond anything that I can imagine. There is no other sensation that can be compared to it, and no language can describe it. One must feel it in order to realize what it is. The first two days I amused myself by walking round my room and trying to conjecture the use to which the various instruments were applied. Then I became so weak I could only think of eating and drinking. I sometimes fell asleep, but only to dream of loaded tables and luxurious feasts. Yet I could never taste the luxuries thus presented. Whenever I attempted to do so, they would be snatched away, or I would wake to find it all a dream. Driven to a perfect frenzy by the intensity of my sufferings, I would gladly have eaten my own flesh. Well was it for me that no sharp instrument was at hand, for as a last resort I more than once attempted to tear open my veins with my teeth.