"When the great bell gave the signal for rising, Sister Clemence, usually so quick and lively, crept out of bed with difficulty and dressed herself slowly. She was the last to enter the chapel and kneeling down, joined her hands mechanically for the morning prayer.

"In the refectory she was unable to eat. When the Lady Superior arrived she questioned her. She was a sort of physician but she perceived nothing extraordinary in the symptoms of her subordinate and advised a few days of rest.

"During the eight days that Sister Clemence remained in her cell, she did not seem to improve; on the contrary, she grew worse and worse.

She could not sleep and if she happened to fall into a feverish slumber, the same vision pursued her, accompanied by the same temptations. It sometimes happened that even half awake, her hands would seek the mysterious spot, centre of such delightful sensations, and unconsciously her fingers lingered there.

"Finally, entirely awake, the same irresistible power drew her fingers to the same place, but then it required a longer time to reach the point of supreme enjoyment.

"At first the novice's thoughts were not fixed upon any particular object. Then she thought of Mr. Ernest, and lastly of the Abbe What a sacrilege!

"If you had seen this little childish hand buried between those white thighs, smooth and firm as marble, her lovely eyes partly closed and those ripe red lips slightly parted, you would have seen her body motionless at first, become slightly agitated, then the legs move further and further apart, the little finger slip in and out of the rosy mouth, until with a deep sigh, she sank back, powerless to move hand or foot.

"Two weeks had elapsed and the Abbe returned to confess the nuns.