"'Rise and follow us,' answered the old nun. I hesitated to obey. She then added: 'No resistance, otherwise these sisters will take you by force.'
"I resigned myself. I started to put on my dress, but the nun threw upon my couch a sort of horsehair sack which she had brought with her.
"'That is the only dress you are henceforth to use!' she said.
"I robed myself in the haircloth, and was about to put on my shoes when the nun again put in:
"'You are to walk barefoot. Your rebellious flesh must be mortified.'
"The expression on the faces of that woman and of her companions looked to me pitiless. I realized the uselessness of resistance or of prayer. Barefoot and clad in the haircloth I followed the nuns. One of them lighted our way with her lanthorn. We crossed the cloister and several long passages. A solitary low window, shaded from within by a red curtain through which a bright light shone, opened upon one of these passages. While passing the place I heard a man's voice singing, accompanying himself on an arch-lute. The song was received with peals of laughter that proceeded from several men and women, gathered in the apartment. Their words reached our ears distinctly. They seemed to me to be such as no honorable woman should hear.
"The nun hastened her steps, and we entered a little court. One of the turning-box attendants opened a door; by the light of the lanthorn I noticed a staircase that descended under ground. Seized with fear I drew back, but pushing me forward by the shoulders the nun said:
"'Go on! Go on! We are taking you to a place where you will meditate at leisure over your obstinacy.'
"I followed the turning-box attendant with the lanthorn. I descended the steps of the stone staircase. The moisture froze my naked feet. At the bottom of the staircase was a vaulted gallery upon which several doors opened. One of them was opened, and I was made to step into a vault where I saw a box shaped like a coffin and filled with ashes, a wooden prie-dieu surmounted by a cross, and near the bed of ashes an earthen pitcher and a piece of bread on the floor.
"'This is to be your dwelling place until you shall have recovered from your stubbornness,' said the nun to me. 'If solitude and mortification do not subdue your rebellious spirit, recourse shall be had to other chastisements.'