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 until our souls have found eternal peace. I am a wicked old woman, and until you opened my eyes I was forgetful of charity and of our Lord's most sweet commands."

She turned to us now with an air of wonderful dignity and graciousness.

"Gentlemen, I pray you to carry this wounded girl to my own cell. To-night I will sleep on bare boards."

One of the young nuns was weeping bitterly.

So we lifted up Marthe Nesle, and, following the Reverend Mother, carried her to a little white room and laid her on an iron bedstead under a picture of the Madonna, below which burned an oil lamp on a wooden table. The American doctor asked Eileen O'Connor to bring him some hot water.

Brand and I went back in the car, and I dined at his mess again.