for him. How many times in the difficult phases of my life I have
thought of him and consulted his ideas, for I never saw him again, as my
aunt quarrelled purposely with my mother and me. He was always fond of
me, though, and has told his friends to assure me of this. Occasionally,
too, he has sent me his advice, which has always been very
straightforward and full of indulgence and common sense.

Recently I went to the country where the Carthusians have taken refuge.
A friend of mine went to see my uncle, and I wept on hearing the words
he had dictated to be repeated to me.

To return to my story. After my uncle's visit, Marie, the gardener's
daughter, came to my room, looking quite indifferent, but with her
pockets stuffed with apples, biscuits, raisins, and nuts. My cousin had
sent me some dessert, but she, the good-hearted girl, had cleared all
the dessert dishes. I told her to sit down and crack the nuts, and I
would eat them when I had finished my "Lord's Prayer" and "Creed." She
sat down on the floor, so that she could hide everything quickly under
the table in case my aunt returned. But my aunt did not come again, as
she and her daughter used to spend their evenings at the piano, whilst
my uncle taught his son mathematics.

Finally, my mother wrote to say that she was coming. There was great
excitement in my uncle's house, and my little trunk was packed in
readiness.

The Grand-Champs Convent, which I was about to enter, had a prescribed
uniform, and my cousin, who loved sewing, marked all my things with the
initials S.B. in red cotton. My uncle gave me a silver spoon, fork, and
goblet, and these were all marked 32, which was the number under which I