“Oh, the young plague!” muttered the officer, and then, apologizing to the nuns, he saluted them and went away accompanied by Père Larcher.
As for me I felt like a fox after having its tail cut. I refused to come down immediately.
“I shall come down when everyone has gone away,” I announced. All the girls received punishments and I was left alone. The sun set and the silence then terrified me, looking as I did out on the cemetery. The dark trees took mournful or threatening shapes. The moisture from the wood fell like a mantle over my shoulders and seemed to get heavier every moment. I felt abandoned by everyone and I began to cry. I was angry with myself, with the soldier, with Mother Ste. Sophie, with the pupils who had excited me by their laughter, with the officer who had humiliated me, and with the Sister who had sounded the alarm bell.
Then I began to think about getting down the rope ladder, which I had pulled up on the plank. Very clumsily, trembling with fear at the least sound, listening eagerly all the time, and with eyes looking to the right and left, I was a long time unhooking it, being very much afraid. Finally, I managed to unroll it, and I was just about to put my foot on the first rung when the barking of César alarmed me. He was tearing along from the wood. The sight of the dark figure on the gymnasium appeared to the faithful dog to bode no good. He was furious and began to scratch the thick wooden uprights.
“Why, César, don’t you know your friend?” I said very gently. He growled in reply and in a louder voice I said:
“Fie, César, bad César, you ought to be ashamed! Fancy barking at your friend!” He now began to howl and I was seized with terror. I pulled the ladder up again and sat down at the top. César lay down at the bottom of the gymnasium, his tail straight out, his ears pricked up, his coat bristling, growling in a sullen way. I appealed to the Holy Virgin to help me. I prayed fervently, vowed to say three Aves, three Credos, and three Paters as well every day.
When I was a little calmer I called out in a subdued voice: “César! my dear César, my beautiful César! You know I am the Angel Raphael!”
Ah, much César cared for him! He considered my presence, quite alone, at so late an hour, in the garden and on the gymnasium, quite incomprehensible. Why was I not in the refectory?
Poor César, he went on growling, and I was getting very hungry and began to think things were most unjust. It was true that I had been to blame for taking the soldier’s cap, but after all he had begun it all. Why had he thrown his cap over the wall? My imagination now came to my aid, and in the end I began to look upon myself as a martyr. I had been left to the dog, and he would eat me. I was terrified at the dead people behind me, and everyone knew I was very nervous. My chest, too, was delicate, and there I was exposed to the biting cold with no protection whatever. I began to think about Mother Ste. Sophie, who evidently no longer cared for me, as she was deserting me so cruelly. I lay with my face downward on the plank, and gave myself up to the wildest despair, calling my mother, my father, and Mother Ste. Sophie, sobbing, wishing I could die there and then; between my sobs I suddenly heard my name pronounced by a gentle voice. I got up, and peering through the gloom, caught a glimpse of my beloved Mother Ste. Sophie. She was there, the dear saint, and had never left her rebellious child. Concealed behind the statue of St. Augustine, she had been praying while awaiting the end of this crisis, which in her simplicity she had believed might prove fatal to my reason and perhaps to my salvation. She had sent everyone away and remained there alone and she, too, had not dined. I came down and threw myself repentant and wretched into her motherly arms. She did not say a word to me about the horrible incident, but took me quickly back to the convent. I was all damp, with the icy evening dew, my cheeks were feverish, and my hands and feet frozen.
I had an attack of pleurisy after this and was twenty-three days between life and death. Mother Ste. Sophie never left me an instant. The sweet Mother blamed herself for my illness, declaring as she beat her breast that she had left me outside too long.