“She said that she was a novice of the convent of the Benedictine ladies, of the Rue de Vaugirard, and that the passage where they were standing formed part of the premises belonging to the building. She had been in that house ever since the age of four years—she was now fifteen—and during all that time she had never once been allowed to go beyond those walls. She had often yearned most intensely, she said, to see the world, which the other novices and the _pensionnaires_ had described to her as being so very beautiful. She had sometimes begged very earnestly, too, to be permitted to accompany one of the lay sisters, who went sometimes into the country, to see a sick nun of the order, who was staying there for the recovery of her health; but she had been told that out of kindness she must be refused; for, as it was her destiny to pass her whole life in that old convent, it would be much better that she should behold no other place, and those who had more experience than herself could tell what regret and misery she would avoid by her ignorance of other scenes. She was to have renewed her vows of novitiate on the Thursday before, but she had been so ill, that the ceremony had been deferred until the week following, and then she should enter into the last year of novitiate, and when that had passed away, she should take the black veil and be cloistered for the rest of her life. Her name, she added, was Constance de V., but she knew not of any friends or kindred which she had. A notary had always remitted to the abbess the sums necessary for the expenses of her board and education, and the dower money also was already lodged in the lady’s hands, so that there was no hope—none—none—that she should ever realize her dream of beholding ever so small a portion of the world, of whose beauty she had heard so much. She said this with such a deep sigh, and such a yearning look towards the gloomy street where the rain still plashed in torrents, that the listener was moved almost to tears. “‘But how came you here, mademoiselle?’ said he, ‘and in this state, too?’ pointing to her dress, which was wet through, and clung to her form in damp and streaming folds.