Having walked some thirty miles that day, I began to feel a serious need for rest. But when I applied, there was no room anywhere in the hotels, and where there was room they told me the contrary after a critical glance at my outfit.
I then tried to find the nunnery of the Sœurs de la Miséricorde, where one of my cousins had taken the veil. At last, in the Rue des Clarisses I found the huge door of the monastery, and rang the bell. After a few moments a small trellised shutter in the stout door was opened ajar, and a tremulous voice asked in French what I wanted. I assumed that it was one of the nuns, but I could see nothing through that narrow jar.
"Sister," I said, "I am a cousin of Sœur Eulalie, and should like to see her, to know how she is and take her greetings to her family in The Netherlands."
"Sœur Eulalie!... Sœur Eulalie!... You ... you ... are a ... cousin ... of ... Sœur Eulalie?"
The terrified little sister was unable to stammer anything more, and in great fear suddenly closed the little shutter again.
There I was left! After waiting a while I rang the bell once more, and once more the little shutter was opened in the same timid manner.
"Now, look here, sister, I am a cousin of Sœur...."
"No, no, sir, your cousin ... is not here."
Bang! The shutter was closed again. But I did not give it up, for I needed the sisters' assistance to find a shelter somewhere. Once more I made the bell to clang, and although I was kept waiting a little longer, at last I heard voices whispering behind the gate and once more something appeared behind the trellis.
"Sister," I said then, "if you will only ask Sœur Eulalie to come to this gate she will recognise me, of course?"