"My dear daughter, it is the hour for supper," said the mother superior, walking on ahead of the canon's niece. "Stop, do you not hear the clock? Quick! quick! come, it will take ten minutes to reach the house, for we are at the bottom of the garden."
"Here I am, madame," replied the young girl, running before the mother superior, who said to her, with affected sweetness:
"Oh, you foolish little thing, you run like a frightened fawn."
Suddenly Dolores shrieked, and fell on her knees.
"Great God!" cried Sister Prudence, running up to her, "what is the matter, dear daughter? Why did you scream? What are you on your knees for?"
"Ah, madame!"
"But what is it?"
"What pain!"
"Where?"
"In my foot, madame, I have sprained my ankle. Oh, how I suffer! My God, how I suffer!"