"That child will never get through her part," exclaimed the Mother Superior.
"Oh, no, I can't; I am sure I can't!" sobbed my poor little friend.
There was a general uproar, and all at once I felt my childish heart leap with the wildest joy. The blood seemed to boil in my veins, and, rushing from the platform, I jumped on to a form. "Mother! Mother!" I exclaimed, "I know the rôle. Would you like me to take it?"
Everybody was looking at me. I was trembling, but I felt quite brave. I knew the part and was sure of myself.
Mother Sainte-Sophie, the Superior of the Convent, an adorable creature (one of the happy memories of my childhood), answered: "Well, my dear, let me hear you."
I tossed back my refractory hair, and, bold and panting, proceeded to recite the rôle of the guiding angel.
"There!" I exclaimed, when I came to the end.
My schoolfellows laughed, the sisters smiled, but, very much encouraged, I mounted on to the little platform and the rehearsal commenced.
"It will be all right," everyone said, and I felt very proud, but still I was afraid lest I should not get through well enough.
When the rehearsal was over the luncheon bell rang, but I could neither eat nor drink; I felt choked and oppressed. How many times since then I have had this same sensation of physical anguish!