elderly, sharp-faced creature; was she a
vapid, fat-faced creature, or a young and pleasing creature? And when I
had asked myself these questions, I snubbed myself for taking the
trouble to think about the matter, and then I began wondering again.

But upon one point I firmly made up my mind: the relationship between my
secretary and myself should not continue to be that of an entity
dictating to a principle.

XII.

EZA.

The next day, when the nun and Sister Sarah entered the secretary's
room, I advanced to the grating and bade them good-morning. They both
bowed, and the nun took her seat at the table. Sister Sarah then turned
to me and asked if I had a gold pen, adding that the sister was
accustomed to writing with one. I answered that I had all kinds of pens,
and if the sister wanted a gold one it was only necessary to ask me for
it. I brought several gold pens, and handed them through the grating to
the sub-mother, who gave them to the secretary, and then took her leave,
locking the door behind her. My nun took one of the pens, tried it,
arranged the paper, and sat ready to write. I stood by the grating,
hoping to converse a little, if it should be possible.

"Is there anything else you would like?" I said. "If there is, you know
you must mention it."

She gently shook her head. The idea now occurred to me that perhaps my
nun was dumb; but I almost instantly thought that this could not be, for
dumb people were almost always deaf, and she could hear well enough.
Then it struck me that she might be a Trappist nun, and bound by a vow
of silence; but I reflected that she was not really a nun, and
consequently could not be a Trappist.

Having been unsuccessful in my first attempt to make her speak, and
having now stood silent for some moments, I felt it might be unwise to
make another trial just then, for my object would be too plain. I
therefore sat down and began dictating.

I did not work as easily as I had done on the preceding morning, for I
intended, if possible, to make my nun look at me, or speak, before the
hour of noon, and thinking of this intention prevented me from keeping
my mind upon my work. From time to time I made remarks in regard to the
temperature of the room, the quality of the paper, or something of the
kind. To these she did not answer at all, or slightly nodded, or shook
her head in a deprecatory manner, as if they were matters not worth
considering.

Then I suddenly remembere