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To make reparation is a function in which the whole soul
is absorbed. The sister at the post would not turn round
were a thunderbolt to fall directly behind her.
Besides this, there is always a sister kneeling before the
Holy Sacrament. This station lasts an hour. They relieve
each other like soldiers on guard. This is the Perpetual Ado-
ration.
The prioresses and the mothers almost always bear
names stamped with peculiar solemnity, recalling, not the
saints and martyrs, but moments in the life of Jesus Christ:
as Mother Nativity, Mother Conception, Mother Presen-
tation, Mother Passion. But the names of saints are not
interdicted.
When one sees them, one never sees anything but their
mouths.
All their teeth are yellow. No tooth-brush ever entered
that convent. Brushing one’s teeth is at the top of a ladder at
whose bottom is the loss of one’s soul.
They never say my. They possess nothing of their own,
and they must not attach themselves to anything. They
call everything our; thus: our veil, our chaplet; if they were
speaking of their chemise, they would say our chemise.
Sometimes they grow attached to some petty object,— to
a book of hours, a relic, a medal that has been blessed. As
soon as they become aware that they are growing attached
to this object, they must give it up. They recall the words of
Saint Therese, to whom a great lady said, as she was on the
point of entering her order, ‘Permit me, mother, to send for
a Bible to which I am greatly attached.’ ‘Ah, you are attached