When they were going out, Mr. Fletcher desired Anna, in case of strong temptation from what she should see to become a nun, to remember, that in the new jails in England every inmate has a cell, a bed, and a high window, all to himself; and that he is quite sure of his reveries being uninterrupted. There was no use in Anna’s looking indignant, the laugh was against her.
At the convent gate, the gentlemen left their party, and proceeded to make some visits. Mr. Fletcher wished to introduce his friend to such of the inhabitants of Tours as he was acquainted with, and among others, to a gentleman who held a high office among the magistracy of the city.
Mary and Anna could scarcely believe, when the portress opened the gate, that they were actually entering a convent. A feeling of awe crept over them, as if they had set foot in some sacred enclosure; and this feeling was not lessened by the first view of the flitting figures which disappeared before them wherever they went—figures clothed in a dark and most unbecoming costume, which did not appear so remarkably convenient as to make up for its want of beauty. When the abbess joined them in her parlour, however, there was nothing particularly venerable in her appearance: she seemed very glad to see Mrs. Fletcher, (who was provided with a plea of business,) and inclined her head politely when introduced to the strangers. She asked some questions about their voyage, and their opinion of France in general, and Tours in particular, and astonished them by laughing very loud and heartily when there was any opportunity for laughing at all.
“While you are busy with mamma, ma mère, we will seek Sister Célestine,” said Rose: “come, Mary, we will leave our two mothers together.”
“Oh! she is a little heretic!” exclaimed the abbess, laughing, as the girls left the room.
They first entered the refectory, where the nuns were talking in groups, having just finished their dinner. One and another ran to meet their heretical acquaintance, while others stood at a distance, and stared in a manner which rather abashed the strangers. Some withdrew, with an appearance of propriety, and two or three stood reading at the windows, which looked into the convent garden; but the greater number were evidently remarking on the dress and countenances of the English girls. Sister Célestine and Sister Priscille after a while led the way up stairs to their cells. The first cell looked just like what Anna expected, except that there was no skull on the table. The book was turned down open: it was a book of devotion, and in Latin, and the page at which Mary looked contained a marvellous account of the miraculous deeds of a female saint. Mary, with some hesitation, enquired of Sister Célestine if she believed every part of it. She looked rather shocked at the question, as she replied that, of course, she believed the whole of it.
“Had she known the book when she was young?” Anna enquired, thinking that this might account for her credulity.
“No; it was given to her when she entered the convent.”
She had previously learned to read Latin, they supposed.
“Oh dear no! they none of them thought that necessary. The priest read it over to them first, so that they knew what it was about, and nothing more was required than that they should read it over very frequently, so as not to forget it.” This cell had now lost its charm for Anna.