I was looked upon as a little authority and was made umpire in questions that had to be decided. I used to receive orders for fashionable trousseaux, made of paper, for dolls. It was quite an easy thing for me in those days to make long ermine cloaks with fur tippets and muff, and this filled my little playfellows with admiration. I charged for my trousseaux, according to their importance, two pencils, five _tête-de-mort_ nibs, or a couple of sheets of white paper. In short, I became a personality, and that sufficed for my childish pride. I did not learn anything and I received no distinctions. My name was only once on the honor list, and that was not as a studious pupil but for a courageous deed. I had fished a little girl out of the big pool. She had fallen in while trying to catch frogs. The pool was in the large orchard on the poor children’s side of the grounds. As a punishment for some misdeed, which I do not remember, I had been sent away for two days among the poor children. This was supposed to be a punishment and I delighted in it. In the first place I was looked upon by them as a “young lady.” Then I used to give the day pupils a few sous to bring me, on the sly, a little moist sugar. During recreation I heard some heartrending shrieks and, rushing to the pool from whence they came, I saw a little girl immersed in it. I jumped into the water without reflecting. There was so much mud that we both sank in it. The little girl was only four years old and so small that she kept disappearing. I was over ten at that time. I do not know how I managed to rescue her, but I dragged her out of the water with her mouth, nose, ears, and eyes all filled with mud. I was told afterwards that it was a long time before she was restored to consciousness. As for me, I was carried away with my teeth chattering, nervous and half fainting. I was very feverish afterwards and Mother Ste. Sophie herself sat up with me. I overheard her words to the doctor: “This child,” she said, “is one of the best we have here. She will be perfect when once she has received the Holy Chrism.” This speech made such an impression on me that, from that day forth, mysticism had a great hold on me. I had a very vivid imagination and was extremely sensitive, and the Christian legend took possession of me, heart and soul. The Son of God became the object of my worship and the Mother of the Seven Sorrows, my ideal. An event, very simple in itself, was destined to disturb the silence of our secluded life and to attach me more than ever to my convent, where I wanted to remain forever.