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in by high walls, the hushed green convent garden lay, amid the stir and noise of ever restless Paris, like a little oasis of peace and prayer and ecstatic absorption in God. Here, noiselessly moving along ancient avenues, now touched with the living green of spring, walked the sober nuns, landing out in mournful relief against the flowering glory of May. The impression of this secluded spot, of the regulated contemplative life, of the religious services, where the full organ tones mingled with the soaring voices of the nuns as they chanted their anthems, filled the young devotee with rapture. In spite of her intense affection for her mother, Manon dreamed of taking the veil, though well aware that as an only child she would meet with the strongest opposition from her parents. In the meanwhile she assiduously applied herself to devotional exercises, and became a favourite with the nuns. They soon felt how such a pupil would redound to their credit and lavished praises and caresses on her. Within a few months of her entrance, by the unanimous consent of the superiors and the director, she was allowed to receive her first communion.

This year, spent by Manon at the convent, was