I called the peasant woman, and gave her the order to have the masses said, and bade her tell the priest that the masses were to be said for the intention of the person who paid for them. She told me that the aspect of the dead sister was dreadful, and that she had to be guarded by two women who sprinkled her with holy water, lest witches, under the form of cats, should come and tear her limb from limb. Far from laughing at her, I told her she was quite right, and asked where she had got the laudanum.
“I got it from a worthy midwife, and old friend of mine. We got it to send the poor lay-sister to sleep when the pains of child-birth should come on.”
“When you put the child at the hospital door, were you recognized?”
“Nobody saw me as I put it into the box, and I wrote a note to say the child had not been baptized.”
“Who wrote the note?”
“I did.”
“You will, of course, see that the funeral is properly carried out?”
“It will only cost six francs, and the parson will take that from two louis which were found on the deceased; the rest will do for masses to atone for her having had the money.”
“What! ought she not to have had the two louis?”
“No,” said the nun, “we are forbidden to have any money without the knowledge of the abbess, under pain of excommunication.”