Laure descended to prime next morning, trembling for fear of unknown possibilities. But no one in the church saw her muddy sandals; and her skirts and mantle were not more soiled round the bottom than was customary with those nuns that took their recreation in the garden. By the time the breaking of the fast occurred, she was reassured, and felt herself safe from the consequences of her night. Then, and only then, did she turn her mind to the choice that she must make during the ensuing sennight. That week was one of terror by night and woe by day. Hourly she resolved to renounce forever all thoughts of the flesh, confess her sin, and remain true to the convent for life. For the first three days these renewals of faith made her strong and stronger. She wept and she prayed and she hoped for strength; and finally she began to believe that the Devil was beaten. And yet—and yet—she did not even now confess the story of her acquaintance with Flammecœur. She said to herself that she would win this last fight alone; but she did not seek to find if there was self-deception in that excuse. No one but the girl Eloise had any idea that there existed such a person as the trouvère; and Eloise was unaware that Sœur Angelique had ever seen that gallant gentleman save when she and Yvain were present. Moreover, the stupid one was becoming alarmed lest the sudden devotional fervor of Demoiselle Angelique should lead to the cessation of those meetings for which her vague soul so impiously thirsted. The rest of the sisters perceived Laure’s extra prayers and rigorous fasting with admiration and approval, and put them down to one of those sudden rushes of fervor to which young nuns were peculiarly subject. After three days of this devotional effort, the Devil widened his little wedge of temptation, and roused in her an overpowering desire to see her lover again. By now she had lost her shame at the first hot kiss ever laid upon her lips, and—alas, poor humanity!—was longing secretly for more. So long, however, as Flammecœur was still in Le Crépuscule, she believed that she could endure everything. But she knew that after four days he would be there no more; and if she let her chance go, it was the last she should ever have. Then her mind strayed to the after-picture of her life here in the nunnery; and at the thought her heart grew numb and cold. Yet still she fought and prayed, trusting to no one her weight of temptation, keeping steadfastly to that self-deceptive determination to finish the battle alone.