“Francois, you have had my answer.  What has been done, cannot be undone.  Save yourself, and leave me to my unhappy fate,” answered Marie; then bursting into tears, “O Francois, why, why did you leave me without one word?  Had you but pointed out your danger to me, I should have been the first to have insisted upon your absence, and all, all would have been borne with patience, if not with pleasure, for your sake.  If what you now say is truth, all would have been well; but now I have naught to cheer me in my lonely pilgrimage, and naught to wish but that it soon may come unto its close.  I forgive you, Francois, but pity me, for I deserve your pity.”

“Once more, Marie, I entreat you to consent to my proposal.”

“Never, Francois; I will not be less faithful to my God than I was to you.  He will not desert me; and if I suffer now, will reward me for it hereafter.”  And Marie again quitted my apartment.

My situation in the nunnery now became insupportable, and I determined to escape.  I pleaded ill health and kept my bed.  The physician of a neighbouring convent, who had a great reputation, was sent for against my wishes.  When I heard of his arrival, I dressed to receive him, for I was fearful of some scrutiny.  He inquired what ailed me:  I answered that I had no pain, but that I was convinced I should soon depart.  He felt my pulse, and not being able to discover symptoms of disease took his leave.

To the elder sisters who visited me, I spoke in enigmas, and told them that I had a summons, that they must expect soon to find me gone:  and the sanctity of my reputation make them receive my innuendoes as inspired remarks.  One night, I complained of being much worse, and requested their early retiring:  they would have sent for the physician, but I forbade it, telling them I was beyond a physician’s cure:  kissing them all, and pronouncing over them a solemn blessing, I dismissed them.  As soon as it was dark, I threw off my nun’s attire, leaving it in my bed, as if I had slipped out of it; and as the windows of my apartment, which looked into the convent garden, were not barred, unclothed as I was I dropped down, and reached the ground in safety.  I took the precaution, when I was outside, to shut the window, that my having escaped should not enter their ideas, and climbing a tree which overhung the wall of the garden, dropped from a bough on the other side, and found myself at liberty.  As I knew that the farther I was from the nunnery, the less chance I had of being supposed an impostor, I gained the high road, and ran as fast as I could in the direction from Marseilles to Toulouse.