el behave remarkably well; but generally the very sight
of holy places frightens them. To return to La Goualeuse; her companions
said to me, 'We see that she is not one of us, by her gentle ways, her
sadness, and the manner in which she talks.' 'And then,' added La Louve
(who was present at this conversation), abruptly, 'it is quite certain
that she is not one of us, for this morning, in the dormitory, without
knowing why, we were all ashamed of dressing ourselves before her.'"

"What remarkable delicacy in the midst of so much degradation!"
exclaimed Madame d'Harville.

"Yes, madame, in the presence of men, and amongst themselves, modesty is
unknown to them, and yet they are painfully confused at being seen half
dressed by us or the charitable visitors who come, like your ladyship,
to the prison. Thus the profound instinct of modesty, which God has
implanted in us, reveals itself even in these fallen creatures, at the
sight of those persons whom they can respect."

"It is at least consolatory to find some good and natural feelings,
which are stronger even than depravity."

"Assuredly it is; and these women are capable of devoted attachments
which, were they worthily placed, would be most honourable. There is
also another sacred feeling with them, who respect nothing, fear
nothing, and that is maternity. They honour it, rejoice at it; and they
are admirable mothers, considering nothing a sacrifice to keep their
children near them. They will undergo any trouble, difficulty, or danger
that they may bring them up; for, as they say, these little beings are
the only ones who do not despise them."

"Have they, then, so deep a sense of their abject condition?"

"They are not half so much despised by others as they despise
themselves. With those who sincerely repent, the original blot of sin is
ineffaceable in their own eyes, even if they should find themselves in a
better position; others go mad, so irremediably is this idea imprinted
in their minds; and I should not be surprised, madame, if the heartfelt
grief of La Goualeuse is attributable to something of this nature."

"If so, how she must suffer!--a remorse which nothing can soothe!"

"Fortunately, madame, this remorse is more frequent than is commonly
believed. The avenging conscience is never completely lulled to sleep;
or, rather, strange as it may appear, sometimes it would seem that the
soul is awake whilst the body is in a stupor; and this remark I again
mad