To return to my story. After my uncle’s visit, Marie, the gardener’s daughter, came to my room, looking quite indifferent, but with her pockets stuffed with apples, biscuits, raisins, and nuts. My cousin had sent me some dessert, but she, the good-hearted girl, had cleared all the dessert dishes. I told her to sit down and crack the nuts, and I would eat them when I had finished my “Lord’s Prayer” and “Creed.” She sat down on the floor, so that she could hide everything quickly under the table in case my aunt returned. But my aunt did not come again, as she and her daughter used to spend their evenings at the piano, whilst my uncle taught his son mathematics. Finally, my mother wrote to say that she was coming. There was great excitement in my uncle’s house, and my little trunk was packed in readiness. The Grand-Champs Convent, which I was about to enter, had a prescribed uniform, and my cousin, who loved sewing, marked all my things with the initials S. B. in red cotton. My uncle gave me a silver spoon, fork, and goblet, and these were all marked 32, which was the number under which I was registered there. Marie gave me a thick woollen muffler in shades of violet, which she had been knitting for me in secret for several days. My aunt put round my neck a little scapulary which had been blessed, and when my mother and father arrived everything was ready. A farewell dinner was given, to which two of my mother’s friends, Aunt Rosine, and four other members of the family were invited. I felt very important. I was neither sad nor gay, but had just this feeling of importance which was quite enough for me. Every one at table talked about me; my uncle kept stroking my hair, and my cousin from her end of the table threw me kisses. Suddenly my father’s musical voice made me turn towards him. “Listen to me, Sarah,” he said. “If you are very good at the convent, I will come in four years and fetch you away, and you shall travel with me and see some beautiful countries.” “Oh, I will be good!” I exclaimed; “I’ll be as good as Aunt Henriette!” This was my aunt Faure. Everybody smiled. After dinner, the weather being very fine, we all went out to stroll in the park. My father took me with him, and talked to me very seriously. He told me things that were sad, which I had never heard before. I understood, although I was so young, and my eyes filled with tears. He was sitting on an old bench and I was on his knee, with my head resting on his shoulder. I listened to all he said and cried silently, my childish mind disturbed by his words. Poor father! I was never, never to see him again. III CONVENT LIFE