,a ,,fair ,,penitent  ,by ,wilkie       
,collins     ,about ,a ,fair ,penitent  
,this story first appeared in ,charles  
,dickens' magazine1 ,household ,words1  
volume #af1 number #chb1 ,july #ah1     
#aheg4 ,published anonymously1 as all   
contributions to the magazine were1 it  
was attributed definitely to ,wilkie    
,collins by ,anne ,lohrli in her        
analysis of the magazine's financial    
accounts4     ,a ,,fair ,,penitent      
,charles ,pineau ,duclos was a ,french  
writer of biographies and novels1 who   
lived and worked during the first half  
of the eighteenth century4 ,he prospered
 sufficiently well1 as a literary man1  
to be made secretary to the ,french     
,academy1 and to be allowed to succeed  
,voltaire in the office of              
historiographer of ,france4 ,he has left
 behind him1 in his own country1 the    
reputation of a lively writer of the    
second class1 who addressed the public  
of his day with fair success1 and who1  
since his death1 has not troubled       

posterity to take any particular notice 
of him4  ,among the papers left by      
,duclos1 two manuscripts were found1    
which he probably intended to turn to   
some literary account4 ,the first was a 
brief ,memoir1 written by himself1 of a 
,frenchwoman1 named ,mademoiselle       
,gautier1 who began life as an actress  
and who ended it as a ,carmelite nun4   
,the second manuscript was the lady's   
own account of the process of her       
conversion1 and of the circumstances    
which attended her moral passage from   
the state of a sinner to the state of a 
saint4 ,there are certain national      
peculiarities in the character of       
,mademoiselle ,gautier and in the       
narrative of her conversion1 which are  
perhaps interesting enough to be        
reproduced with some chance of pleasing 
the present day4  ,it appears1 from the 
account given of her by ,duclos1 that   
,mademoiselle ,gautier made her         
appearance on the stage of the ,thtre   
,franois in the year seventeen hundred  

and sixteen4 ,she is described as a     
handsome woman1 with a fine figure1 a   
fresh complexion1 a lively disposition1 
and a violent temper4 ,besides          
possessing capacity as an actress1 she  
could write very good verses1 she was   
clever at painting in miniature1 and1   
most remarkable quality of all1 she was 
possessed of prodigious muscular        
strength4 ,it is recorded of            
,mademoiselle1 that she could roll up a 
silver plate with her hands1 and that   
she covered herself with distinction in 
a trial of strength with no less a      
person than the famous soldier1 ,marshal
 ,saxe4  ,nobody who is at all          
acquainted with the social history of   
the eighteenth century in ,france1 need 
be told that ,mademoiselle ,gautier had 
a long list of lovers1--for the most    
part1 persons of quality1 marshals1     
counts1 and so forth4 ,the only man1    
however1 who really attached her to him1
 was an actor at the ,thtre ,franois1 a 
famous player in his day1 named         

,quinault ,dufresne4 ,mademoiselle      
,gautier seems to have loved him with   
all the ardour of her naturally         
passionate disposition4 ,at first1 he   
returned her affection2 but1 as soon as 
she ventured to test the sincerity of   
his attachment by speaking of marriage1 
he cooled towards her immediately1 and  
the connection between them was broken  
off4 ,in all her former love-affairs1   
she had been noted for the high tone    
which she adopted towards her admirers1 
and for the despotic authority which she
 exercised over them even in her gayest 
moments4 ,but the severance of her      
connection with ,quinault ,dufresne     
wounded her to her heart4 ,she had loved
 the man so dearly1 had made so many    
sacrifices for him1 had counted so      
fondly on the devotion of her whole     
future life to him1 that the first      
discovery of his coldness towards her   
broke her spirit at once and for ever4  
,she fell into a condition of hopeless  
melancholy1 looked back with remorse and

 horror at her past life1 and abandoned 
the stage and the society in which she  
had lived1 to end her days repentantly  
in the character of a ,carmelite nun4   
,so far1 her history is the history of  
hundreds of other women before her time 
and after it4 ,the prominent interest of
 her life1 for the student of human     
nature1 lies in the story of her        
conversion1 as told by herself4 ,the    
greater part of the narrative--every    
page of which is more or less           
characteristic of the ,frenchwoman of   
the eighteenth century--may be given1   
with certain suppressions and           
abridgments1 in her own words4 ,the     
reader will observe1 at the outset1 one 
curious fact4 ,mademoiselle ,gautier    
does not so much as hint at the         
influence which the loss of her lover   
had in disposing her mind to reflect on 
serious subjects4 ,she describes her    
conversion as if it had taken its rise  
in a sudden inspiration from ,heaven4   
,even the name of ,quinault ,dufresne is

 not once mentioned from one end of her 
narrative to the other4   ,on the       
twenty-fifth of ,april1 seventeen       
hundred and twenty-two 7writes          
,mademoiselle ,gautier71 while ,i was   
still leading a life of                 
pleasure--according to the pernicious   
ideas of pleasure which pass current in 
the world--,i happen to awake1 contrary 
to my usual custom1 between eight and   
nine o'clock in the morning4 ,i remember
 that it is my birthday2 ,i ring for my 
people2 and my maid answers the bell1   
alarmed by the idea that ,i am ill4 ,i  
tell her to dress me that ,i may go to  
mass4 ,i go to the ,church of the       
,cordeliers1 followed by my footman1 and
 taking with me a little orphan whom ,i 
had adopted4 ,the first part of the mass
 is celebrated without attracting my    
attention2 but1 at the second part the  
accusing voice of my conscience suddenly
 begins to speak4 ,what brings you here8
 it says4 ,do you come to reward ,god   
for making you the attractive person    

that you are1 by mortally transgressing 
,his laws every day of your life8 ,i    
hear that question1 and ,i am           
unspeakably overwhelmed by it4 ,i quit  
the chair on which ,i have hitherto been
 leaning carelessly1 and ,i prostrate   
myself in an agony of remorse on the    
pavement of the church4  ,the mass over1
 ,i send home the footman and the       
orphan1 remaining behind myself1 plunged
 in inconceivable perplexity4 ,at last  
,i rouse myself on a sudden2 ,i go to   
the sacristy2 ,i demand a mass for my   
own proper advantage every day2 ,i      
determine to attend it regularly2 and1  
after three hours of agitation1 ,i      
return home1 resolved to enter on the   
path that leads to justification4  ,six 
months passed4 ,every morning ,i went to
 my mass3 every evening ,i spent in my  
customary dissipations4  ,some of my    
friends indulged in considerable        
merriment at my expense when they found 
out my constant attendance at mass4     
,accordingly1 ,i disguised myself as a  

boy1 when ,i went to church1 to escape  
observation4 ,my disguise was found out1
 and the jokes against me were          
redoubled4 ,upon this1 ,i began to think
 of the words of the ,gospel1 which     
declare the impossibility of serving two
 masters4 ,i determined to abandon the  
service of ,mammon4  ,the first vanity  
,i gave up was the vanity of keeping a  
maid4 ,by way of further accustoming    
myself to the retreat from the world    
which ,i now began to meditate1 ,i      
declined all invitations to parties     
under the pretext of indisposition4 ,but
 the nearer the ,easter time approached 
at which ,i had settled in my own mind  
definitely to turn my back on worldly   
temptations and pleasures1 the more     
violent became my internal struggles    
with myself4 ,my health suffered under  
them to such an extent that ,i was      
troubled with perpetual attacks of      
retching and sickness1 which1 however1  
did not prevent me from writing my      
general confession1 addressed to the    

vicar of ,saint ,sulpice1 the parish in 
which ,i lived4  ,just ,heaven6 what did
 ,i not suffer some days afterwards1    
when ,i united around me at dinner1 for 
the last time1 all the friends who had  
been dearest to me in the days of my    
worldly life6 ,what words can describe  
the tumult of my heart when one of my   
guests said to me1 ,you are giving us   
too good a dinner for a ,wednesday in   
,passion ,week2 and when another        
answered1 jestingly1 ,you forget that   
this is her farewell dinner to her      
friends6 ,i felt ready to faint while   
they were talking1 and rose from table  
pretexting as an excuse1 that ,i had a  
payment to make that evening1 which ,i  
could not in honour defer any longer4   
,the company rose with me1 and saw me to
 the door4 ,i got into my carriage1 and 
the company returned to table4 ,my      
nerves were in such a state that ,i     
shrieked at the first crack of the      
coachman's whip2 and the company came   
running down again to know what was the 

matter4 ,one of my servants cleverly    
stopped them from all hurrying out to   
the carriage together1 by declaring that
 the scream proceeded from my adopted   
orphan4 ,upon this they returned quietly
 enough to their wine1 and ,i drove off 
with my general confession to the vicar 
of ,saint ,sulpice4  ,my interview with 
the vicar lasted three hours4 ,his joy  
at discovering that ,i was in a state of
 grace was extreme4 ,my own emotions    
were quite indescribable4 ,late at night
 ,i returned to my own house1 and found 
my guests all gone4 ,i employed myself  
in writing farewell letters to the      
manager and company of the theatre1 and 
in making the necessary arrangements for
 sending back my adopted orphan to his  
friends1 with twenty pistoles4 ,finally1
 ,i directed the servants to say1 if    
anybody enquired after me the next day1 
that ,i had gone out of town for some   
time2 and after that1 at five o'clock in
 the morning1 ,i left my home in ,paris 
never to return to it again4  ,by this  

time ,i had thoroughly recovered my     
tranquillity4 ,i was as easy in my mind 
at leaving my house as ,i am now when ,i
 quit my cell to sing in the choir4     
,such already was the happy result of my
 perpetual masses1 my general           
confession1 and my three hours'         
interview with the vicar of ,saint      
,sulpice4  ,before taking leave of the  
world1 ,i went to ,versailles to say    
good-bye to my worthy patrons1 ,cardinal
 ,fleury and the ,duke de ,gesvres4     
,from them1 ,i went to mass in the      
,king's ,chapel2 and after that1 ,i     
called on a lady of ,versailles whom ,i 
had mortally offended1 for the purpose  
of making my peace with her4 ,she       
received me angrily enough4 ,i told her 
,i had not come to justify myself1 but  
to ask her pardon4 ,if she granted it1  
she would send me away happy4 ,if she   
declined to be reconciled1 ,providence  
would probably be satisfied with my     
submission1 but certainly not with her  
refusal4 ,she felt the force of this    

argument2 and we made it up on the spot4
  ,i left ,versailles immediately       
afterwards1 without taking anything to  
eat2 the act of humility which ,i had   
just performed being as good as a meal  
to me4  ,towards evening1 ,i entered the
 house of the ,community of ,saint      
,perpetua at ,paris4 ,i had ordered a   
little room to be furnished there for   
me1 until the inventory of my worldly   
effects was completed1 and until ,i     
could conclude my arrangements for      
entering a convent4 ,on first installing
 myself1 ,i began to feel hungry at     
last1 and begged the ,superior of the   
,community to give me for supper        
anything that remained from the dinner  
of the house4 ,they had nothing but a   
little stewed carp1 of which ,i eat with
 an excellent appetite4 ,marvellous to  
relate1 although ,i had been able to    
keep nothing on my stomach for the past 
three months1 although ,i had been      
dreadfully sick after a little rice soup
 on the evening before1 the stewed carp 

of the sisterhood of ,saint ,perpetua1  
with some nuts afterwards for dessert1  
agreed with me charmingly1 and ,i slept 
all through the night afterwards as     
peacefully as a child6  ,when the news  
of my retirement became public1 it      
occasioned great talk in ,paris4        
,various people assigned various reasons
 for the strange course that ,i had     
taken4 ,nobody1 however1 believed that  
,i had quitted the world in the prime of
 my life 7,i was then thirty-one years  
old71 never to return to it again4      
,meanwhile1 my inventory was finished   
and my goods were sold4 ,one of my      
friends sent a letter1 entreating me to 
reconsider my determination4 ,my mind   
was made up1 and ,i wrote to say so4    
,when my goods had been all sold1 ,i    
left ,paris to go and live incognito as 
a parlour-boarder in the ,convent of the
 ,ursuline nuns of ,pondevaux4 ,here ,i 
wished to try the mode of life for a    
little while before ,i assumed the      
serious responsibility of taking the    

veil4 ,i knew my own character--,i      
remembered my early horror of total     
seclusion1 and my inveterate dislike to 
the company of women only2 and1 moved by
 these considerations1 ,i resolved1 now 
that ,i had taken the first important   
step1 to proceed in the future with     
caution4  ,the nuns of ,pondevaux       
received me among them with great       
kindness4 ,they gave me a large room1   
which ,i partitioned off into three     
small ones4 ,i assisted at all the pious
 exercises of the place4 ,deceived by my
 fashionable appearance and my plump    
figure1 the good nuns treated me as if  
,i was a person of high distinction4    
,this afflicted me1 and ,i undeceived   
them4 ,when they knew who ,i really was1
 they only behaved towards me with still
 greater kindness4 ,i passed my time in 
reading and praying1 and led the        
quietest1 sweetest life it is possible  
to conceive4  ,after ten months' sojourn
 at ,pondevaux1 ,i went to ,lyons1 and  
entered 7still as parlour-boarder only7 

the ,house of ,anticaille1 occupied by  
the nuns of the ,order of ,saint ,mary4 
,here1 ,i enjoyed the advantage of      
having for director of my conscience    
that holy man1 ,father ,deveaux4 ,he    
belonged to the ,order of the ,jesuits2 
and he was good enough1 when ,i first   
asked him for advice1 to suggest that ,i
 should get up at eleven o'clock at     
night to say my prayers1 and should     
remain absorbed in devotion until       
midnight4 ,in obedience to the          
directions of this saintly person1 ,i   
kept myself awake as well as ,i could   
till eleven o'clock4 ,i then got on my  
knees with great fervour1 and ,i blush  
to confess it1 immediately fell as fast 
asleep as a dormouse4 ,this went on for 
several nights1 when ,father ,deveaux   
finding that my midnight devotions were 
rather too much for me1 was so obliging 
as to prescribe another species of pious
 exercise1 in a letter which he wrote to
 me with his own hand4 ,the holy father1
 after deeply regretting my inability to

 keep awake1 informed me that he had a  
new act of penitence to suggest to me by
 the performance of which ,i might still
 hope to expiate my sins4 ,he then1 in  
the plainest terms1 advised me to have  
recourse to the discipline of           
flagellation1 every ,friday1 using the  
cat-o'-nine-tails on my bare shoulders  
for the length of time that it would    
take to repeat a ,miserere4 ,in         
conclusion1 he informed me that the nuns
 of ,anticaille would probably lend me  
the necessary instrument of             
flagellation2 but1 if they made any     
difficulty about it1 he was benevolently
 ready to furnish me with a new and     
special cat-o'-nine-tails of his own    
making4  ,never was woman more amazed or
 more angry than ,i1 when ,i first read 
this letter4 ,what6 cried ,i to myself1 
does this man seriously recommend me to 
lash my own shoulders8 ,just ,heaven1   
what impertinence6 ,and yet1 is it not  
my duty to put up with it8 ,does not    
this apparent insolence proceed from the

 pen of a holy man8 ,if he tells me to  
flog my wickedness out of me1 is it not 
my bounden duty to lay on the scourge   
with all my might immediately8 ,sinner  
that ,i am6 ,i am thinking remorsefully 
of my plump shoulders and the dimples on
 my back1 when ,i ought to be thinking  
of nothing but the cat-o'-nine-tails and
 obedience to ,father ,deveaux8  ,these 
reflections soon gave me the resolution 
which ,i had wanted at first4 ,i was    
ashamed to ask the nuns for an          
instrument of flagellation2 so ,i made  
one for myself of stout cord1 pitilessly
 knotted at very short intervals4 ,this 
done1 ,i shut myself up while the nuns  
were at prayer1 uncovered my shoulders1 
and rained such a shower of lashes on   
them1 in the first fervour of my        
newly-awakened zeal1 that ,i fairly     
flogged myself down on the ground1 flat 
on my nose1 before ,i had repeated more 
of the ,miserere than the first two or  
three lines4  ,i burst out crying1      
shedding tears of spite against myself  

when ,i ought to have been shedding     
tears of devotional gratitude for the   
kindness of ,father ,deveaux4 ,all      
through the night ,i never closed my    
eyes1 and in the morning ,i found my    
poor shoulders 7once so generally       
admired for their whiteness7 striped    
with all the colours of the rainbow4    
,the sight threw me into a passion1 and 
,i profanely said to myself while ,i was
 dressing1 ,the next time ,i see ,father
 ,deveaux1 ,i will give my tongue full  
swing1 and make the hair of that holy   
man stand on end with terror6 ,a few    
hours afterwards1 he came to the        
convent1 and all my resolution melted   
away at the sight of him4 ,his imposing 
exterior had such an effect on me that  
,i could only humbly entreat him to     
excuse me from indicting a second       
flagellation on myself4 ,he smiled1     
benignantly1 and granted my request with
 a saintly amiability4 ,give me the     
cat-o'-nine-tails1 he said1 in          
conclusion1 and ,i will keep it for you 

till you ask me for it again4 ,you are  
sure to ask for it again1 dear child--to
 ask for it on your bended knees6       
,pious and prophetic man6 ,before many  
days had passed his words came true4 ,if
 he had persisted severely in ordering  
me to flog myself1 ,i might have opposed
 him for months together2 but1 as it    
was1 who could resist the amiable       
indulgence he showed towards my         
weakness8 ,the very next day after my   
interview1 ,i began to feel ashamed of  
my own cowardice2 and the day after that
 ,i went down on my knees1 exactly as he
 had predicted1 and said1 ,father       
,deveaux1 give me back my               
cat-o'-nine-tails4 ,from that time ,i   
cheerfully underwent the discipline of  
flagellation1 learning the regular      
method of practising it from the        
sisterhood1 and feeling1 in a spiritual 
point of view1 immensely the better for 
it4  ,the nuns1 finding that ,i         
cheerfully devoted myself to every act  
of self-sacrifice prescribed by the     

rules of their convent1 wondered very   
much that ,i still hesitated about      
taking the veil4 ,i begged them not to  
mention the subject to me till my mind  
was quite made up about it4 ,they       
respected my wish1 and said no more2 but
 they lent me books to read which       
assisted in strengthening my wavering   
resolution4 ,among these books was the  
,life of ,madame de ,montmorenci1 who1  
after the shocking death of her husband1
 entered the ,order of ,st4 ,mary4 ,the 
great example of this lady made me      
reflect seriously1 and ,i communicated  
my thoughts1 as a matter of course1 to  
,father ,deveaux4 ,he assured me that   
the one last greatest sacrifice which   
remained for me to make was the         
sacrifice of my liberty4 ,i had long    
known that this was my duty1 and ,i now 
felt1 for the first time1 that ,i had   
courage and resolution enough boldly to 
face the idea of taking the veil4       
,while ,i was in this happy frame of    
mind1 ,i happened to meet with the      

history of the famous ,ranc1 founder1 or
 rather reformer1 of the ,order of ,la  
,trappe4 ,i found a strange similarity  
between my own worldly errors and those 
of this illustrious penitent4 ,the      
discovery had such an effect on me1 that
 ,i spurned all idea of entering a      
convent where the rules were            
comparatively easy1 as was the case at  
,anticaille1 and determined1 when ,i did
 take the veil1 to enter an ,order whose
 discipline was as severe as the        
discipline of ,la ,trappe itself4       
,father ,deveaux informed me that ,i    
should find exactly what ,i wanted among
 the ,carmelite nuns2 and1 by his       
advice1 ,i immediately put myself in    
communication with the ,archbishop of   
,villeroi4 ,i opened my heart to this   
worthy prelate1 convinced him of my     
sincerity1 and gained from him a promise
 that he would get me admitted among the
 ,carmelite nuns of ,lyons4 ,one thing  
,i begged of him at parting1 which was1 
that he would tell the whole truth about

 my former life and about the profession
 that ,i had exercised in the world4 ,i 
was resolved to deceive nobody1 and to  
enter no convent under false pretences  
of any sort4  ,my wishes were           
scrupulously fulfilled2 and the nuns    
were dreadfully frightened when they    
heard that ,i had been an actress at    
,paris4 ,but the ,archbishop promising  
to answer for me1 and to take all their 
scruples on his own conscience1 they    
consented to receive me4 ,i could not   
trust myself to take formal leave of the
 nuns of ,anticaille1 who had been so   
kind to me1 and towards whom ,i felt so 
gratefully4 ,so ,i wrote my farewell to 
them after privately leaving their      
house1 telling them frankly the motives 
which animated me1 and asking their     
pardon for separating myself from them  
in secret4  ,on the fourteenth of       
,october1 seventeen hundred and         
twenty-four1 ,i entered the ,carmelite  
convent at ,lyons1 eighteen months after
 my flight from the world1 and my       

abandonment of my profession--to adopt  
which1 ,i may say1 in my own defence1   
that ,i was first led through sheer     
poverty4 ,at the age of seventeen years1
 and possessing 7if ,i may credit       
report7 remarkable personal charms1 ,i  
was left perfectly destitute through the
 spendthrift habits of my father4 ,i was
 easily persuaded to go on the stage1   
and soon tempted1 with my youth and     
inexperience1 to lead an irregular life4
 ,i do not wish to assert that          
dissipation necessarily follows the     
choice of the actress's profession1 for 
,i have known many estimable women on   
the stage4 ,i1 unhappily1 was not one of
 the number4 ,i confess it to my shame1 
and1 as the chief of sinners1 ,i am only
 the more grateful to the mercy of      
,heaven which accomplished my           
conversion4  ,when ,i entered the       
convent1 ,i entreated the prioress to   
let me live in perfect obscurity1       
without corresponding with my friends1  
or even with my relations4 ,she declined

 to grant this last request1 thinking   
that my zeal was leading me too far4 ,on
 the other hand1 she complied with my   
wish to be employed at once1 without the
 slightest preparatory indulgence or    
consideration1 on any menial labour     
which the discipline of the convent     
might require from me4 ,on the first day
 of my admission a broom was put into my
 hands4 ,i was appointed also to wash up
 the dishes1 to scour the saucepans1 to 
draw water from a deep well1 to carry   
each sister's pitcher to its proper     
place1 and to scrub the tables in the   
refectory4 ,from these occupations ,i   
got on in time to making rope shoes for 
the sisterhood1 and to taking care of   
the great clock of the convent2 this    
last employment requiring me to pull up 
three immensely heavy weights regularly 
every day4 ,seven years of my life      
passed in this hard work1 and ,i can    
honestly say that ,i never murmured over
 it4  ,to return1 however1 to the period
 of my admission into the convent4      

,after three months of probation1 ,i    
took the veil on the twentieth of       
,january1 seventeen hundred and         
twenty-five4 ,the ,archbishop did me the
 honour to preside at the ceremony2 and1
 in spite of the rigour of the season1  
all ,lyons poured into the church to see
 me take the vows4 ,i was deeply        
affected2 but ,i never faltered in my   
resolution4 ,i pronounced the oaths with
 a firm voice1 and with a tranquillity  
which astonished all the spectators1--a 
tranquillity which has never once failed
 me since that time4  ,such is the story
 of my conversion4 ,providence sent me  
into the world with an excellent nature1
 with a true heart1 with a remarkable   
susceptibility to the influence of      
estimable sentiments4 ,my parents       
neglected my education1 and left me in  
the world1 destitute of everything but  
youth1 beauty1 and a lively temperament4
 ,i tried hard to be virtuous2 ,i vowed1
 before ,i was out of my teens1 and when
 ,i happened to be struck down by a     

serious illness1 to leave the stage1 and
 to keep my reputation unblemished1 if  
anybody would only give me two hundred  
livres a year to live upon4 ,nobody came
 forward to help me1 and ,i fell4       
,heaven pardon the rich people of ,paris
 who might have preserved my virtue at  
so small a cost6 ,heaven grant me       
courage to follow the better path into  
which its mercy has led me1 and to      
persevere in a life of penitence and    
devotion to the end of my days6   ,so   
this singular confession ends4 ,besides 
the little vanities and levities which  
appear here and there on its surface1   
there is surely a strong under-current  
of sincerity and frankness which fit it 
to appeal in some degree to the sympathy
 as well as the curiosity of the reader4
 ,it is impossible to read the narrative
 without feeling that there must have   
been something really genuine and hearty
 in ,mademoiselle ,gautier's nature2 and
 it is a gratifying proof of the honest 
integrity of her purpose to know that   

she persevered to the last in the life  
of humility and seclusion which her     
conscience had convinced her was the    
best life that she could lead4 ,persons 
who knew her in the ,carmelite convent1 
report that she lived and died in it1   
preserving to the last1 all the better  
part of the youthful liveliness of her  
character4 ,she always received visitors
 with pleasure1 always talked to them   
with surprising cheerfulness1 always    
assisted the poor1 and always willingly 
wrote letters to her former patrons in  
,paris to help the interests of her     
needy friends4 ,towards the end of her  
life1 she was afflicted with blindness2 
but she was a trouble to no one in      
consequence of this affliction1 for she 
continued1 in spite of it1 to clean her 
own cell1 to make her own bed1 and to   
cook her own food just as usual4 ,one   
little characteristic vanity--harmless  
enough1 surely8--remained with her to   
the last4 ,she never forgot her own     
handsome face1 which all ,paris had     

admired in the by-gone time2 and she    
contrived to get a dispensation from the
 ,pope which allowed her to receive     
visitors in the convent parlour without 
a veil4