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Updated: May 1, 2025
'Bad luck, indeed, interrupted Claude, who was still sceptical, though half disarmed, in his surprise at the neat way in which the girl arranged the details of her story. 'And, of course, there was no one at the station to meet you? he added. Christine had, indeed, missed Madame Vanzade's maid, who, no doubt, had grown tired of waiting.
She was to have taken the veil, but she felt stifled the moment she entered a church. It had seemed to be all over with her, when the Superior, by whom she was treated with great affection, diverted her from the cloister by procuring her that situation at Madame Vanzade's. She had not yet got over the surprise. How had Mother des Saints Anges been able to read her mind so clearly?
How Christine had been chided indeed whenever she was caught, as a little girl, sweeping, dusting, and playing delightedly at being cook! Even nowadays, if she had been able to indulge in a bout with the dust at Madame Vanzade's, she would have felt less bored. But what would they have said to that? She would no longer have been considered a lady.
On reaching Paris, Claude accompanied Christine to Madame Vanzade's door. They had grown very sad. They exchanged a long handshake, silent and despairing, not daring to kiss each other there. A life of torment then began.
For, in fact, since she had been living in Paris she had dropped into complete indifference about religion. When all the reminiscences of Clermont were exhausted, Claude wanted to hear about her life at Madame Vanzade's, and each week she gave him fresh particulars.
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