I had scarcely time to finish reading these documents, when a party, attracted by the fragments on the beach, came up to me.  I narrated the loss of the vessel, the death of the whole crew, my name and condition, my having come over at the request of the bishop to assume the guidance of the convent of St Therese; and added, that I had called upon the Virgin in my distress, who had come to my aid, and floated me on shore with as much care and comfort as if I had been reposing on cushions of down.  The report was spread and credited; for the circumstance of a helpless woman being the sole survivor of a whole crew was miracle enough in itself.

The bishop’s carriage was sent for me, and I was conducted into the town, followed by a concourse of priests, monks, and common people, who were anxious to kiss even the ground that had been trod upon by a personage so especially under the protection of Heaven.  I was conducted to the bishop’s palace, where I held a sort of court, being visited by deputations from the official bodies, the governor, and all the people of consequence.  After a sojourn of three days, I removed to the convent of which I was the supposed abbess, and was enthusiastically received by the nuns, who flocked round me with mingled veneration and delight.

On the second day of my establishment as abbess, the two elder sisters, who could with difficulty be got rid of even when I retired to bed the night before, introduced the whole of the nuns in rotation, beginning with the elder, and ending with those who last took the vow of chastity.  I felt little interest, I must confess, at the commencement of my levee; but as it came near to a close, many beautiful countenances attracted my attention and I gave the kiss of peace with more zest than prudence would have justified.  The last of the sisterhood came forward, and was introduced as Soeur Marie.  Gracious Heaven! it was the poor girl whom I had deserted.  I started when I saw her advance:  her eyes were bent upon the ground, as if in reverence to my acknowledged sanctity.  As she knelt before me to receive the kiss, she raised them up.  Love can pierce through all disguises.—­At the moment, she thought that she beheld her fugitive lover, and caught her breath in amazement—­but recollection pointed out to her the utter impossibility of the fact, and she sighed at the uncommon likeness, as she received the kiss from those lips which had indeed been so often pressed to hers before.

When the ceremony had been gone through I complained of fatigue, and requested to be left alone.

I wished to reflect upon what had passed, and determine how I was to act:  to escape the danger which threatened me, I had placed myself in a situation of still greater difficulty.  Where could it end?  After a long reverie, I decided that I would make Marie my confidante, and trust to circumstances to guide my future conduct.  I rang the bell, and, requesting the presence of the elder sister of the convent, commenced an inquiry into the different characters of the nuns who had been presented.