hilst she was still amongst us. After thy departure, when she
was confined in a cell sealed with thy seal, I sent her, with her
food, a flute, similar to those which girls of her profession play at
banquets. I did that to prevent her from falling into a melancholy mood,
and that she should not show less skill and talent before God than she
had shown before men. In this I showed prudence and foresight, for all
day long Thais praised the Lord upon the flute, and the virgins, who
were attracted by the sound of this invisible flute, said, 'We hear the
nightingale of the heavenly groves, the dying swan of Jesus crucified.'
Thus did Thais perform her penance, when, after sixty days, the door
which thou hadst sealed opened of itself, and the clay seal was broken
without being touched by any human hand. By that sign I knew that
the trial thou hadst imposed upon her was at an end, and that God had
pardoned the sins of the flute-player. From that time she has shared
the ordinary life of my nuns, working and praying with them. She was an
example to them by the modesty of her acts and words, and seemed like a
statue of purity amongst them. Sometimes she was sad; but those clouds
soon passed. When I saw that she was really drawn towards God by faith,
hope, and love, I did not hesitate to employ her talent, and even her
beauty, for the improvement of her sisters. I asked her to represent
before us the actions of the famous women and wise virgins of the
Scriptures. She acted Esther, Deborah, Judith, Mary, the sister of
Lazarus, and Mary, the mother of Jesus. I know, venerable father, that
thy austere mind is alarmed at the idea of these performances. But thou
thyself wouldest have been touched if thou hadst seen her in these pious
scenes, shedding real tears, and raising to heaven arms graceful as palm
leaves. I have long governed a community of women, and I make it a rule
never to oppose their nature. All seeds give not the same flowers. Not
all souls are sanctified in the same way. It must also not be forgotten
that Thais gave herself to God whilst she was still beautiful, and such
a sacrifice is, if not unexampled, at least very rare. This beauty--her
natural vesture--has not left her during the three months' fever of
which she is dying. As, during her illness, she has incessantly asked to
see the sky, I have her carried every morning into the courtyard, near
the well, under the old fig tree, in the shade of which the abbesses of
thi