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more, I can go out without meeting her. Oh! But what if I did meet
her! But she s not here anymore, is she? She isn t, is she?... Happy
the convent that has her in it!... She ll tell her new Mother Superior
everything. What will she think of me?... Has Sainte Thérèse died? I
heard the bell tolling for the dead all last night. The poor girl! She s
lost for ever, and it s my fault, it s my fault... One day I shall be
brought face to face with her. What will I say to her? What will I
reply? Woe is she! Woe is me!
146 The Nun
On another occasion she would say: Have our sisters come back?
Tell them I m very ill... Lift up my pillow... Loosen my nightdress...
I can feel something weighing down on me there... My head s burn-
ing; take off my nightcap... I want to get washed... Fetch me some
water. Pour it out, keep on pouring... They are white, but the stain
on the soul still lingers... I wish I were dead, I wish I hadn t been
born; that way I wouldn t have seen her.
One morning she was found barefoot, in her nightdress, dishev-
elled, screaming, foaming at the mouth, and running around her
cell, her hands over her ears, her eyes closed, and her body pressed
against the wall. Keep away from the abyss. Can you hear those
cries? That s hell. I can see flames shooting up out of this deep
chasm, and from the midst of the flames I can hear confused voices
crying out to me... Oh my God, have pity on me!... Hurry up,
ring the bell, and call everyone together. Tell them to pray for me,
and I shall pray too... But it s hardly light yet and our sisters are
asleep. I haven t had a moment s sleep all night; I want to sleep, but I
can t.
One of our sisters said: Madame, something s troubling you. Tell
me what it is; it might make you feel better.
Sister Agathe, listen, come closer... closer... closer still... We
mustn t be overheard. I m going to tell you everything, everything,
but keep it secret. Have you seen her?
Who, Madame?
Isn t it true that nobody is as sweet as she is? The way she walks!
What decency! What nobility! What modesty!... Go to her and say...
Oh! no, don t say anything, don t go, you couldn t go up to her.
Heaven s angels are guarding her and keeping watch over her. I ve
seen them, and if you saw them, you d be just as afraid of them as I
was. Stay here... If you went, what would you say to her? Think of
something that won t make her blush!...
But, Madame, would you like to speak to our confessor?
Yes... oh yes... No, no. I know what he ll tell me, I ve heard it so
many times... What will I talk to him about? If only I could lose my
memory!... If only I could die or be born again!... Don t call the
confessor. I d prefer it if someone read me the Passion of our Lord
Jesus Christ. Read it... I m starting to breathe again... Just one drop
of this blood is all that s needed to purify me... Look, it s gushing
forth from his side... Hold that sacred wound over my head... His
The Nun 147
blood is flowing onto me but passing straight over... I m lost!... Take
that crucifix away... Bring it back... It was brought back. She held it
tightly in her arms, kissed it all over, and then added: These are her
eyes; this is her mouth. When shall I see her again?... Sister Agathe,
tell her I love her, describe for her the state I m in, and tell her that
I m dying.
She was bled and bathed, but each treatment seemed to make her
illness worse. I dare not describe for you all the indecent things she
did, nor repeat all the obscene things that escaped from her mouth in
her delirium. She kept on putting her hand up to her forehead as if
she was trying to get rid of troublesome ideas and images, goodness
knows what images! She buried her head in the bed and covered her
face with the sheets. It s the devil, she said, it s him. How strange
he looks! Get some holy water; sprinkle some holy water on me...
Stop, stop, he s gone now.
She was soon locked away, but her prison was not so well guarded
that she did not manage to escape one day. She had torn off her
clothes and was wandering along the corridors completely naked,
with just two little lengths of torn rope hanging from her arms. She
shouted: I am your Mother Superior. You ve all sworn an oath to
obey and you must do so. You ve imprisoned me, you wretches! So
this is the reward I get for my kindness! You re hurting me because
I m too good. Well I won t be any longer... Fire!... Murder!...
Thief!... Help me!... Help me, Sister Thérèse!... Help me, Sister
Suzanne!...
But she was seized, taken back to her prison, and she said: You re
right, you re right. I ve gone mad, I can feel it.
Sometimes she seemed to be haunted by visions of different kinds
of suffering. She saw women with rope round their necks or with
their hands tied behind their backs. She saw women holding torches
and she joined with those making their public confession. She
thought that she was being led to her death, and she said to the
executioners: I deserve my fate, I deserve it. If only this torment
were the last. But an eternity! An eternity of flames awaits me!
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