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<h2> CHAPTER VII—SOME SILHOUETTES OF THIS DARKNESS </h2>
<p>During the six years which separate 1819 from 1825, the prioress of the
Petit-Picpus was Mademoiselle de Blemeur, whose name, in religion, was
Mother Innocente. She came of the family of Marguerite de Blemeur, author
of Lives of the Saints of the Order of Saint-Benoit. She had been
re-elected. She was a woman about sixty years of age, short, thick,
"singing like a cracked pot," says the letter which we have already
quoted; an excellent woman, moreover, and the only merry one in the whole
convent, and for that reason adored. She was learned, erudite, wise,
competent, curiously proficient in history, crammed with Latin, stuffed
with Greek, full of Hebrew, and more of a Benedictine monk than a
Benedictine nun.</p>
<p>The sub-prioress was an old Spanish nun, Mother Cineres, who was almost
blind.</p>
<p>The most esteemed among the vocal mothers were Mother Sainte-Honorine; the
treasurer, Mother Sainte-Gertrude, the chief mistress of the novices;
Mother-Saint-Ange, the assistant mistress; Mother Annonciation, the
sacristan; Mother Saint-Augustin, the nurse, the only one in the convent
who was malicious; then Mother Sainte-Mechtilde (Mademoiselle Gauvain),
very young and with a beautiful voice; Mother des Anges (Mademoiselle
Drouet), who had been in the convent of the Filles-Dieu, and in the
convent du Tresor, between Gisors and Magny; Mother Saint-Joseph
(Mademoiselle de Cogolludo), Mother Sainte-Adelaide (Mademoiselle
d'Auverney), Mother Misericorde (Mademoiselle de Cifuentes, who could not
resist austerities), Mother Compassion (Mademoiselle de la Milti�re,
received at the age of sixty in defiance of the rule, and very wealthy);
Mother Providence (Mademoiselle de Laudiniere), Mother Presentation
(Mademoiselle de Siguenza), who was prioress in 1847; and finally, Mother
Sainte-Celigne (sister of the sculptor Ceracchi), who went mad; Mother
Sainte-Chantal (Mademoiselle de Suzon), who went mad.</p>
<p>There was also, among the prettiest of them, a charming girl of three and
twenty, who was from the Isle de Bourbon, a descendant of the Chevalier
Roze, whose name had been Mademoiselle Roze, and who was called Mother
Assumption.</p>
<p>Mother Sainte-Mechtilde, intrusted with the singing and the choir, was
fond of making use of the pupils in this quarter. She usually took a
complete scale of them, that is to say, seven, from ten to sixteen years
of age, inclusive, of assorted voices and sizes, whom she made sing
standing, drawn up in a line, side by side, according to age, from the
smallest to the largest. This presented to the eye, something in the
nature of a reed-pipe of young girls, a sort of living Pan-pipe made of
angels.</p>
<p>Those of the lay-sisters whom the scholars loved most were Sister
Euphrasie, Sister Sainte-Marguerite, Sister Sainte-Marthe, who was in her
dotage, and Sister Sainte-Michel, whose long nose made them laugh.</p>
<p>All these women were gentle with the children. The nuns were severe only
towards themselves. No fire was lighted except in the school, and the food
was choice compared to that in the convent. Moreover, they lavished a
thousand cares on their scholars. Only, when a child passed near a nun and
addressed her, the nun never replied.</p>
<p>This rule of silence had had this effect, that throughout the whole
convent, speech had been withdrawn from human creatures, and bestowed on
inanimate objects. Now it was the church-bell which spoke, now it was the
gardener's bell. A very sonorous bell, placed beside the portress, and
which was audible throughout the house, indicated by its varied peals,
which formed a sort of acoustic telegraph, all the actions of material
life which were to be performed, and summoned to the parlor, in case of
need, such or such an inhabitant of the house. Each person and each thing
had its own peal. The prioress had one and one, the sub-prioress one and
two. Six-five announced lessons, so that the pupils never said "to go to
lessons," but "to go to six-five." Four-four was Madame de Genlis's
signal. It was very often heard. "C'est le diable a quatre,"—it's
the very deuce—said the uncharitable. Tennine strokes announced a
great event. It was the opening of the door of seclusion, a frightful
sheet of iron bristling with bolts which only turned on its hinges in the
presence of the archbishop.</p>
<p>With the exception of the archbishop and the gardener, no man entered the
convent, as we have already said. The schoolgirls saw two others: one, the
chaplain, the Abb� Banes, old and ugly, whom they were permitted to
contemplate in the choir, through a grating; the other the drawing-master,
M. Ansiaux, whom the letter, of which we have perused a few lines, calls
M. Anciot, and describes as a frightful old hunchback.</p>
<p>It will be seen that all these men were carefully chosen.</p>
<p>Such was this curious house.</p>
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