prayers. She confessed to me that she was very frightened of death. She used to talk about it in a low voice, and looked very frightened. Her eyes were green, and her hair was so lovely that Sister Marie-Aimee would never have it cut short like that of the other girls. At last the great day came. My general confession had passed off all right. It gave me the same feeling that a bath does. I felt very clean after it, but I trembled so when I was given the holy wafer that a bit of it stuck in my teeth. A sort of dizziness came over me, and I felt as though a big black curtain had dropped in front of my eyes, I thought I heard Sister Marie-Aimee's voice asking "Are you ill," and I seemed to know that she went with me as far as my fald-stool, and that she put my taper into my hand and said, "Hold it tight." My throat had grown so tight that I could not swallow, and I felt a liquid dropping from my mouth into my throat. Then I was wildly frightened, for Madeleine had warned us that if we bit the holy wafer the blood of Christ would stream from our mouths, and that nobody would be able to stop it. Sister Marie-Aimee wiped my face and whispered quite low, "Take care, dear. Are you ill?" My throat loosened, and I swallowed the wafer. Then at last I dared to look down to see the blood on my dress, but I saw only a little grey spot like a drop of water. I put my handkerchief to my lips and wiped my face. There was no blood on it. I did not feel quite sure yet, but when we got up to sing I tried to sing with the others. When M. le Cure came to see us later in the day Sister Marie-Aimee told him that I had almost fainted at Communion. He took my chin in his hand and tipped my face up towards him. Then, after looking into my eyes, he began to laugh, and said that I was a very sensitive little girl. After our first communion we did not attend class any more. Bonne Justine taught us to sew. We made caps for peasant women. It was not very difficult, and as it was something new I worked hard. Bonne Justine said that I should make a very good needle-woman. Sister Marie-Aimee used to kiss me and say, "So you would, if you could only get over your laziness." But when I had made a few caps and had to go on doing the same thing over and over again, my laziness got the better of me. The work bored me, and I could not make up my mind to do it. I could have remained for hours and hours without moving, watching the others work. Marie Renaud never spoke to us while she was sewing. Her stitches were so small and so close together that one needed good eyes to see them. Ismerie sang all the time she sewed, and nobody ever scolded her. Some of the girls sewed with bent backs and a frown on their foreheads. Their fingers were moist, and their needles squeaked. Others sewed slowly and carefully, without getting tired or bored, counting their stitches under their breath. That is the way I should have liked to sew. I used to scold myself for not doing so, and then I used to imitate them for a few minutes. But the least sound disturbed me, and I would stop and listen, or look at what was going on