“You may readily believe, Sir, that, under such circumstances, I could not read with very steady eyes; and my penetration was not at all quickened by the four monks disappearing from the cell, at a signal I did not see. The Superior and I were now alone. He walked up and down my cell, while I appeared to hang over the advocate’s memoir. Suddenly he stopped;--he struck his hand with violence on the table,--the pages I was trembling over quivered from the violence of the blow,--I started from my chair. “Wretch,” said the Superior, “when have such papers as those profaned the convent before? When, till your unhallowed entrance, were we insulted with the memoirs of legal advocates? How comes it that you have dared to----” “Do what, my father?” “Reclaim your vows, and expose _us_ to all the scandal of a civil court and its proceedings.” “I weighed it all against my own misery.” “Misery! is it thus you speak of a conventual life, the only life that can promise tranquillity here, or ensure salvation hereafter.” These words, uttered by a man convulsed by the most frantic passion, were their own refutation. My courage rose in proportion to his fury; and besides, I was driven to a point, and forced to act on my defence. The sight of the papers added to my confidence. I said, “My father, it is in vain to endeavour to diminish my repugnance to the monastic life; the proof that that repugnance is invincible lies before you. If I have been guilty of a step that violates the decorum of a convent, I am sorry,--but I am not reprehensible. Those who forced me into a convent, are guilty of the violence which is falsely ascribed to me. I am determined, if it be possible, to change my situation. You see the efforts I have already made, be assured they will never cease. Disappointment will only redouble their energy; and if it be in the power of heaven or earth to procure the annulment of my vows, there is no power in either I will not have recourse to.” I expected he would not have heard me out, but he did. He even listened with calmness, and I prepared myself to encounter and repel that alternation of reproach and remonstrance, of solicitation and menace, which they so well know how to employ in a convent. “Your repugnance to a conventual life is then invincible?” “It is.” “But to what do you object?--not to your duties, for you perform them with the most edifying punctuality,--not to the treatment you receive, for it has been the most indulgent that our discipline admits of,--not to the community itself, who are all disposed to cherish and love you;--of what do you complain?” “Of the life itself,--that comprehends every thing. I am not fit to be a monk.” “Remember, I implore you, that though the forms of earthly courts must be obeyed, from the necessity that makes us dependent on human institutions, in all matters between man and man, they never can be available in matters between God and man. Be assured, my deluded child,