The period of which we are writing was some years before convents were
abolished; but the strictness of their rules had in many instances been
considerably relaxed. Without much difficulty, permission was obtained
from the abbess for our nun to devote her time during the day to the care
of these poor children, upon condition that she should regularly return
to her convent every night before evening prayers. The house which
Madame de Fleury chose for her little school was in an airy part of the
town; it did not face the street, but was separated from other buildings
at the back of a court, retired from noise and bustle. The two rooms
intended for the occupation of the children were neat and clean, but
perfectly simple, with whitewashed walls, furnished only with wooden
stools and benches, and plain deal tables. The kitchen was well lighted
(for light is essential to cleanliness), and it was provided with
utensils; and for these appropriate places were allotted, to give the
habit and the taste of order. The schoolroom opened into a garden larger
than is usually seen in towns. The nun, who had been accustomed to
purchase provisions for her convent, undertook to prepare daily for the
children breakfast and dinner; they were to sup and sleep at their
respective homes. Their parents were to take them to Sister Frances
every morning when they went out to work, and to call for them upon their
return home every evening. By this arrangement, the natural ties of
affection and intimacy between the children and their parents would not
be loosened; they would be separate only at the time when their absence
must be inevitable. Madame de Fleury thought that any education which
estranges children entirely from their parents must be fundamentally
erroneous; that such a separation must tend to destroy that sense of
filial affection and duty, and those principles of domestic
subordination, on which so many of the interests and much of the virtue
and happiness of society depend. The parents of these poor children were