A Fair Penitent | Page 5

myself. My health suffered under them to such an extent
that I was troubled with perpetual attacks of retching and sickness,
which, however, did not prevent me from writing my general
confession, addressed to the vicar of Saint Sulpice, the parish in which
I lived.
Just Heaven! what did I not suffer some days afterwards, when I united
around me at dinner, for the last time, all the friends who had been
dearest to me in the days of my worldly life! What words can describe
the tumult of my heart when one of my guests said to me, "You are
giving us too good a dinner for a Wednesday in Passion Week;" and
when another answered, jestingly, "You forget that this is her farewell
dinner to her friends!" I felt ready to faint while they were talking, and
rose from table pretexting as an excuse, that I had a payment to make
that evening, which I could not in honour defer any longer. The
company rose with me, and saw me to the door. I got into my carriage,
and the company returned to table. My nerves were in such a state that I
shrieked at the first crack of the coachman's whip; and the company
came running down again to know what was the matter. One of my
servants cleverly stopped them from all hurrying out to the carriage
together, by declaring that the scream proceeded from my adopted
orphan. Upon this they returned quietly enough to their wine, and I
drove off with my general confession to the vicar of Saint Sulpice.
My interview with the vicar lasted three hours. His joy at discovering
that I was in a state of grace was extreme. My own emotions were quite
indescribable. Late at night I returned to my own house, and found my
guests all gone. I employed myself in writing farewell letters to the
manager and company of the theatre, and in making the necessary
arrangements for sending back my adopted orphan to his friends, with
twenty pistoles. Finally, I directed the servants to say, if anybody

enquired after me the next day, that I had gone out of town for some
time; and after that, at five o'clock in the morning, I left my home in
Paris never to return to it again.
By this time I had thoroughly recovered my tranquillity. I was as easy
in my mind at leaving my house as I am now when I quit my cell to
sing in the choir. Such already was the happy result of my perpetual
masses, my general confession, and my three hours' interview with the
vicar of Saint Sulpice.
Before taking leave of the world, I went to Versailles to say good-bye
to my worthy patrons, Cardinal Fleury and the Duke de Gesvres. From
them, I went to mass in the King's Chapel; and after that, I called on a
lady of Versailles whom I had mortally offended, for the purpose of
making my peace with her. She received me angrily enough. I told her I
had not come to justify myself, but to ask her pardon. If she granted it,
she would send me away happy. If she declined to be reconciled,
Providence would probably be satisfied with my submission, but
certainly not with her refusal. She felt the force of this argument; and
we made it up on the spot.
I left Versailles immediately afterwards, without taking anything to eat;
the act of humility which I had just performed being as good as a meal
to me.
Towards evening, I entered the house of the Community of Saint
Perpetua at Paris. I had ordered a little room to be furnished there for
me, until the inventory of my worldly effects was completed, and until
I could conclude my arrangements for entering a convent. On first
installing myself, I began to feel hungry at last, and begged the
Superior of the Community to give me for supper anything that
remained from the dinner of the house. They had nothing but a little
stewed carp, of which I eat with an excellent appetite. Marvellous to
relate, although I had been able to keep nothing on my stomach for the
past three months, although I had been dreadfully sick after a little rice
soup on the evening before, the stewed carp of the sisterhood of Saint
Perpetua, with some nuts afterwards for dessert, agreed with me
charmingly, and I slept all through the night afterwards as peacefully as
a child!
When the news of my retirement became public, it occasioned great
talk in Paris. Various people assigned various reasons for the strange

course that I had taken. Nobody, however, believed that I had quitted
the world in the prime of my life (I was then thirty-one years