is a sin, my sister, to flatter it!"

"Dame! As if one could possibly be open to such a charge here!"
retorted the ruddy-faced Agnes.

"We are taught to restrain,--mortify,--pluck out,--cut off the
offending member. It is----"

"But what are we going to do with this child, Sister Angelique?"
interrupted Sister Agnes, and abruptly shutting off the religious
enthusiast. "She must be hungry. And the Superieure----"

"Cannot be disturbed at this hour. In the morning is time enough for
an unpleasant subject. Take her to No. 17,--it is prepared,--in the
right lower corridor."

"Sainte Marie!" cried Sister Agnes, crossing herself, "as if I didn't
know! Why, I was taken to that cell myself when I came here forty
years ago!"

"Perhaps, and have never had reason to regret it, quite surely. But
take this child there. Let her begin her new life with fasting and
prayer, as you doubtless did, sister. It will serve to fit her to
come before the Superieure in the morning with the humble spirit of
one who is to receive so much and who, evidently, can give so little."

Fouchette was so bewildered with her surroundings that she paid little
attention to what was being said. The great irregular piles of
buildings, the going and coming of the ghostly figures, the silence,
impressed her vividly. Of the nearest building, she could see that the
windows were grated with iron bars; her ears registered the word
"cell." Fouchette did not understand what was meant by the expression
"fasting and prayer," but she had a definite idea of a "cell" in a
house with grated windows within a high wall.

"Come! hurry up, my child; I want my supper. Yes, and I'll see that
they treat you better than they did me. Come this way! Yes,--mon Dieu!
Mortify the flesh! Flatter the carnal appetite!"

She muttered continuously, as she led Fouchette along a dark corridor
with which her feet were familiar.

"Forty years! Ah! Mother of God! Pluck it out! Cut it off! Blessed
Sainte Agnes, give me patience! Forty years! Holy Mother, pardon me!
Forty years! Yes! Reason to regret? May the good God forgive me!--Here
we are, my child."

She suddenly stopped and turned a key, opened a door, thrust the child
within, and paused to look around, as if pursuing her reminiscences,
oblivious of everything else.

It was a plain cell, such as was used by the early monks when this
building was a monastery, possibly nine by six feet, with a high,
small, grated hole for the on