so
terrible that it seemed to come right out of her vitals. Then we had
heard her moaning, and that was all. A few moments afterwards
Madeleine had come up and whispered to Marie Renaud, Marie Renaud had
put on her dress, and I heard her go downstairs; Directly afterwards
she came back with M. le Cure. He rushed into Sister Marie-Aimee's
room, and Madeleine closed the door behind him. He did not remain very
long, but he went away again much more slowly than he had come. He
walked with his head sunk down between his shoulders, and his right
hand was holding his cloak over his left arm, as though he were
carrying something valuable. I thought to myself that he was taking
away the holy oils, and I did not dare ask whether Sister Marie-Aimee
were dead. I have never forgotten the blow I got from Madeleine's fist
when I clung to her dress. She knocked me right over and whispered, as
she ran past, "She is better." As soon as Sister Marie-Aimee was well
again, Madeleine was kinder, and everything went on as before.

I disliked sewing as much as ever, and my hatred for it began to make
Sister Marie-Aimee uneasy. She mentioned it in front of me to M. le
Cure's sister. M. le Cure's sister was an old maid with a long face
and big faded eyes. We called her Mademoiselle Maximilienne. Sister
Marie-Aimee told her how anxious she was about my future. She said
that I learned things easily, but that no kind of sewing interested me.
She had noticed for some time that I was fond of study, and she had
made inquiries to find out whether I had no distant relatives who would
look after me, she said. But the only relation I had was an old woman
who had adopted my sister, but refused to take me. Mademoiselle
Maximilienne offered to take me into her dressmaking business. M. le
Cure thought that was a very good idea, and said that he would be
pleased to go and teach me a little, twice a week. Sister Marie-Aimee
seemed really happy at this. She did not know what to say to thank
them. It was agreed that I should go to Mademoiselle Maximilienne as
soon as M. le Cure returned from a journey to Rome, which he had to
make. Sister Marie-Aimee would get my outfit ready for me, and
Mademoiselle Maximilienne would go to the Mother Superior and ask her
permission, she said. I felt dreadfully uncomfortable at the idea that
the Mother Superior was to have anything to do with it. I could not
forget the unkind look she always gave me