“Thou must eat,” she would say.
“I don’t want anything—really, Virginie,” Magda would insist.
“And wherefore not?” demanded Virginie indignantly one day. “Thou art not one of the Sisters of Penitence that thou must needs deny thyself the good things of life.”
Magda looked up with a sudden flash of interest.
“The Sisters of Penitence, Virginie? Who are they? Tell me about them.”
Virginie set a plate containing an epicurean omelet triumphantly in front of her.
“Eat that, then, cherie, while I tell thee of them,” she replied with masterly diplomacy. “It is good, the omelet. Virginie made it for thee with her own hands.”
Magda laughed faintly in spite of herself and began upon the omelet obediently.
“Very well, then. Tell me about the Sisters of Penitence. Are they always being sorry for what they’ve done?”
“It is a sisterhood, mademoiselle cherie, for those who would withdraw themselves from the world. They are very strict, I believe, the sisters, and mortify the flesh exceedingly. Me, I cannot see why we should leave the beautiful world the bon dieu has put us into. For certain, He would not have put us in if He had not meant us to stay there!”