Living death! To the child, whose memories of the Convent were so recent, the life of a nun was a living joy—a joy of service, sacrifice and peace. To her restless, turbulent, almost exotic temperament the thought of the calm, well-ordered existence of the tranquil religieuses was a beautiful one, a sacred memory. She could not bear the harsh laughter with which her mother greeted the suggestion.
“Expelled from a convent and wants to be a nun!” said Julie, scornfully. She could never bring herself to believe that this amazingly complex creature was her own child.
“Hush!” commanded the Duke, frowning. “Now, my little one, my question is not answered. Why do you wish to be a nun?”
Sarah looked fearlessly at her mother’s protector.
“The doctors say I am soon to die—I have heard them talk,” she said. “I would like to die with my soul dedicated to God.”
To Julie, who was still a Jewess, this was cause for further laughter; but the Duke, a man of much sentiment and some honour, was much affected.
“Nonsense!” he said. “You are not going to die for many years! The doctors are fools! We shall discharge them for idle talking.... No, my little one, the great surprise is not what you thought. We are going to take you to the Opéra-Comique to see a play.”
Instead of the stammered thanks he expected, Sarah began to cry.
“I do not want to go to the Opéra-Comique!” she cried, stamping her foot. “I won’t go! Mother Saint-Sophie (the superior at the Convent) said that the theatre was wicked. I do not want to be wicked: I want to be a nun!”
Threats and persuasion were both necessary before Sarah consented to don the new gown her mother had purchased for her and accompany her parent and the Duke to the latter’s box at the Opéra-Comique.