I was getting into a rage, but Dolores gave me her empty plate and drank the soup for me. When the inspectress came round again she expressed her satisfaction. I was furious and put my tongue out, and this made all the table laugh. She turned round, and the pupil who sat at the end of the table and was appointed to watch over us, because she was the eldest, said to her in a low voice:
“It’s the new girl making grimaces.”
The inspectress moved away again, and when the veal was served my portion found its way to the plate of my neighbor, Dolores. I wanted to keep the haricot beans though, and we almost came to a quarrel over them. She gave way finally, but with the veal she dragged away a few beans which I tried to keep on my plate.
An hour later we had evening prayers and afterwards all went up to bed. My bed was placed against the wall, in which there was a niche for the statue of the Virgin Mary. A lamp was always kept burning in this niche, and the oil for it was provided by the children who had been ill and were grateful for their recovery. Two tiny flower-pots were placed at the foot of the little statue. The pots were of terra cotta and the flowers of paper. I made paper flowers very well, and I at once decided that I would make all the flowers for the Virgin Mary. I fell asleep to dream of garlands of flowers, of haricot beans, and of distant countries, for the twins from Jamaica had made an impression on my mind.
The awakening was cruel. I was not accustomed to get up so early. Daylight was scarcely visible through the opaque windowpanes. I grumbled as I dressed, for we were allowed only a quarter of an hour and it always took me a good half hour to comb my hair. Sister Marie, seeing that I was not ready, came toward me, and before I knew what she was going to do, snatched the comb violently out of my hand.
“Come, come,” she said, “you must not dawdle like this.” She then planted the comb in my mop of hair and tore out a handful of it. Pain and anger at seeing myself treated in this way threw me immediately into one of my fits of rage which always terrified those who witnessed them. I flung myself upon the unfortunate Sister and with feet, teeth, hands, elbows, head and, indeed, all my poor little body I hit, thumped, and at the same time yelled. All the pupils, all the Sisters, and indeed everyone came running to see what was the matter. The Sisters made the sign of the cross but did not venture to approach me. The Mother Prefect threw some holy water over me to exorcise the evil spirit. Finally the Mother Superior arrived on the scene. My father had told her of my fits of wild fury, which were my only serious fault, and my state of health was quite as much responsible for them as the violence of my disposition. She approached me. I was still clutching Sister Marie, but was exhausted by this struggle with the poor woman, who although tall and strong, only tried to ward off my blows without retaliating, endeavoring to hold first my feet, and then my hands.
I looked up on hearing Mother Ste. Sophie’s voice. My eyes were bathed in tears, but nevertheless I saw such an expression of pity on her sweet face that without altogether letting go I ceased fighting for a second, and trembling and ashamed, said very quickly:
“She commenced it, she snatched the comb out of my hand like a wicked woman, and tore out my hair. She was rough and hurt me. She is a wicked, wicked woman.” I then burst into sobs and my hands loosed their hold. The next thing I knew was that I found myself lying on my little bed with Mother Ste. Sophie’s hand on my forehead and her kind, deep voice lecturing me gently. All the others had gone and I was quite alone with her and the Holy Virgin in the niche. From that day forth Mother Ste. Sophie had an immense influence over me. Every morning I went to her, and Sister Marie, whose forgiveness I had been obliged to ask before the whole convent, combed my hair out in her presence. Seated on a little stool I listened to the book that the Mother Superior read to me or to the instructive story she told me.
Ah, what an adorable woman she was, and how I love to recall her to my memory! I adored her as a little child adores the being who has entirely won its heart, without knowing, without reasoning, without even being aware that it was so, but I was simply under the spell of an infinite fascination. Since then, though, I have understood and admired her, realizing how unique and radiant a soul was imprisoned under the thick-set exterior and happy face of that holy woman, I have loved her for all that she awakened within me of nobleness. I love her for the letters which she wrote to me, letters that I often read over and over again. I love her, also, because imperfect as I am, it seems to me that I should have been one hundred times more so, had I not known and loved that pure creature. Once only did I see her severe and feel that she was suddenly angry. In the little room used as a parlor, leading into her cell, there was a portrait of a young man, whose handsome face was stamped with a certain nobility.
“Is that the Emperor?” I asked her.