back, climbed up to her desk again, and after a moment she said, without looking at anybody, "He really is a very distinguished man." Our new priest lived in a little house near the chapel. In the evening he used to walk in the avenue of linden trees. He often passed close to the playground where we were playing, and he always used to bow very low to Sister Marie-Aimee. Every Thursday afternoon he came to see us. He sat down, leaning against the back of his chair, and crossing his legs, he told us stories. He was very pleasant, and Sister Marie-Aimee used to say that he laughed as though he enjoyed it. Sometimes Sister Marie-Aimee was ill. Then he used to go up and see her in her room. We would see Madeleine passing with a teapot and two cups. She was red in the face and very busy. When the summer was over, M. le Cure came to see us after dinner and spent the evenings with us. When nine o'clock struck he used to go, and Sister Marie-Aimee always went with him down the passage to the big front door. He had been with us for a year, and I could never get used to making confession to him. He often used to look at me and laugh in a way that made me think that he remembered my faults. We went to confession on fixed days. Each one of us took her turn. When there were only one or two to go in before me I began to tremble. My heart beat dreadfully fast, and I got cramp in my stomach, which prevented me from breathing properly. When my turn came I got up and felt my legs trembling under me. My head buzzed, and my cheeks turned cold. I fell on my knees in the confessional and M. le Cure's voice, which sounded as though it came from a long way off, gave me confidence. But he always had to help me to remember my faults. If he hadn't, I should have forgotten half of them. At the end of confession he always asked me what my name was. I longed to tell him another name, but while I was wondering if I dare, my own name used to slip out of my mouth. It was getting near the time for our Communion. It was to be in May, and preparations for it were beginning. Sister Marie-Aimee composed some new hymns. She had made one, which was a sort of thanksgiving for M. le Cure. A fortnight before the ceremony they separated us from the others. We had prayed all day long. Madeleine was supposed to see that we were not disturbed at prayer, but she often used to disturb us herself by quarrelling with one of us. My fellow communicant was called Sophie. She was a quiet little girl, and we always kept out of the quarrels. We used to talk over serious matters. I often told her how much I hated confession, and how frightened I was that I should pass through my communion badly. She was very good, and she did not understand what I had to be afraid of. She thought that I was not pious enough, and she had noticed that I used to go to sleep during prayers. She confessed to me that she was very frightened of death.