h he enjoyed it. Sometimes Sister
Marie-Aimee was ill. Then he used to go up and see her in her room.
We would see Madeleine passing with a teapot and two cups. She was red
in the face and very busy.

When the summer was over, M. le Cure came to see us after dinner and
spent the evenings with us. When nine o'clock struck he used to go,
and Sister Marie-Aimee always went with him down the passage to the big
front door.

He had been with us for a year, and I could never get used to making
confession to him. He often used to look at me and laugh in a way that
made me think that he remembered my faults. We went to confession on
fixed days. Each one of us took her turn. When there were only one or
two to go in before me I began to tremble. My heart beat dreadfully
fast, and I got cramp in my stomach, which prevented me from breathing
properly. When my turn came I got up and felt my legs trembling under
me. My head buzzed, and my cheeks turned cold. I fell on my knees in
the confessional and M. le Cure's voice, which sounded as though it
came from a long way off, gave me confidence. But he always had to
help me to remember my faults. If he hadn't, I should have forgotten
half of them. At the end of confession he always asked me what my name
was. I longed to tell him another name, but while I was wondering if I
dare, my own name used to slip out of my mouth.

It was getting near the time for our Communion. It was to be in May,
and preparations for it were beginning. Sister Marie-Aimee composed
some new hymns. She had made one, which was a sort of thanksgiving for
M. le Cure. A fortnight before the ceremony they separated us from the
others. We had prayed all day long. Madeleine was supposed to see
that we were not disturbed at prayer, but she often used to disturb us
herself by quarrelling with one of us. My fellow communicant was
called Sophie. She was a quiet little girl, and we always kept out of
the quarrels. We used to talk over serious matters. I often told her
how much I hated confession, and how frightened I was that I should
pass through my communion badly. She was very good, and she did not
understand what I had to be afraid of. She thought that I was not
pious enough, and she had noticed that I used to go to sleep during
prayers. She confessed to me that she was very frightened of death.
She used to talk about it in a low voice, and looked very frightened.
Her eyes were green, a