Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - II. Quartier Latin
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of resignation than of hope on their lips. Indeed,
they were greatly mistaken. On the contrary,
these nuns, young and old, were invariably
cheerful and happy, almost gay and full of childish
fun and laughter, and it was wonderful to watch
the way they knew how to communicate their
happiness to others. They were also tolerant.
Those who believed and those who did not, were
all the same to them. If anything they seemed
even more anxious to help the latter, for they felt
so sorry for them and showed no signs of
resentment even for their curses and blasphemies. To
me they were all wonderfully kind and friendly.
They well knew that I did not belong to their
creed, that I did not go to confession and that
I did not make the sign of the cross when I
passed before the little altar. At first the Mother
Superior had made some timid attempts to convert
me to the faith which had made her sacrifice her
life for others, but she had soon given it up with a
compassionate shaking of her old head. Even
the dear old padre had lost all hope of my
salvation since I told him I was willing to discuss
with him the possibility of a purgatory, but
point-blank refused to believe in hell, and that in any
case I was determined to give morphia in full
dose to the dying when their agony was too cruel
and too long. The old padre was a saint but
argumentation was not his strong point and we
soon abandoned these controversial questions
altogether. He knew the life of all the saints,
and it was he who told me for the first time the
sweet legend of St. Claire, who had given her
name to the ward. It was also he who made me
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