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I had a lot to write and so asked her for more paper than was usually
allowed; secondly, I concentrated on my statement and neglected my
confession; and thirdly, since I had not written out my confession
and had not prepared myself for that particular religious observance,
I only remained in the confessional for a moment. All of this was
noticed, and the conclusion was drawn that the paper I had
requested had been used for some purpose other than that I had
claimed. But if it had not been used for my confession, which it
clearly had not, what had I used it for?
Though I did not know how concerned they would be, I realized
that I could not let such an important document be found in my cell.
My first thought was to sew it in my bolster or my mattress. Then I
thought of hiding it in my clothes, burying it in the garden, or
throwing it on the fire. You will never believe what a hurry I was in to
write it and how worried I was once I had finished it. First I sealed it
and then hid it in my bosom before going off to the office, for which
the bell was ringing. My every movement betrayed how nervous I
was. I was sitting next to a nun who was fond of me. I had sometimes
seen her looking at me pitifully, tears in her eyes. She said nothing to
me, but I am sure that she was suffering. Risking all the possible
consequences, I decided to entrust my statement to her. At the point
in the prayers when all the nuns kneel and bow their heads and are,
so to speak, buried in their stalls, I quickly pulled the paper from my
bosom and handed it to her behind my back. She took it and hid it in
her bosom. This was the most important thing she had ever done for
me, though she had done many other things before. Without getting
herself into trouble, she had spent several months removing the
obstacles that were put in my way so as to prevent me doing my
duties and to give the others an excuse to punish me. She would
come and knock on my door when it was time to come out; she
would tidy up what had deliberately been messed up; she would go
and ring the bell or answer it when necessary; she was wherever I was
meant to be. I knew nothing of all that then.
I had made a wise decision. As we left the choir, the Mother
Superior said to me: Sister Suzanne, follow me. I followed her. She
stopped outside another door in the corridor and said: This is your
cell now. Sister Saint Jerome will have your old one. I went in and so
did she. We were both sitting in silence when a nun appeared with
some clothes which she put down on a chair. The Mother Superior
The Nun 39
said to me: Sister Suzanne, get undressed and put on these clothes.
I obeyed instantly. As I did so, she watched my every movement.
The sister who had brought the clothes was standing in the doorway:
she came back in; she picked up the clothes I had taken off and went
out, followed by the Mother Superior. I was not told why this was
happening, nor did I ask. Meanwhile my cell had been thoroughly
searched: they had torn open my pillow and mattress; they had
moved everything that could be moved or could have been moved;
they had retraced my steps, visiting the confessional, the church, the
garden, the well, and the stone seat. I saw some of their searching
and I guessed the rest. Nothing was found, but nevertheless they
remained convinced that there was something to be found. They
continued to spy on me for several days, going wherever I had been
and looking everywhere, but in vain. Finally the Mother Superior
thought that the only way to find out the truth was directly from me.
One day she came into my cell and said:
Sister Suzanne, you have your faults, but lying is not one of them.
So tell me the truth. What have you done with all the paper I gave
you?
Madame, I ve already told you.
But that s impossible, because you asked me for a lot of paper but
you only spent a moment in the confessional.
That s true.
So what have you done with it?
Exactly what I told you.
Very well, if you swear to me by the vow of holy obedience that
you have made before God that that is indeed the case, then, in spite
of appearances, I shall believe you.
Madame, you have no right to demand I swear an oath on such a
trivial matter, and I cannot do it. I cannot swear.
You re deceiving me, Sister Suzanne, and you don t know the risk
you re taking. What have you done with the paper I gave you?
I ve already told you.
Where is it?
I don t have it any more.
What have you done with it?
What one normally does with these kinds of writing which are
useless once they ve served their purpose.
Swear to me by your vow of holy obedience that you used all the
40 The Nun
paper to write out your confession and that you don t have it any
more.
Madame, I repeat, since the second thing is just as trivial as the
first, I cannot swear.
Swear, she said, or else...
I will not swear.
You won t swear?
No, Madame.
So you re guilty?
And what can I possibly be guilty of?
Everything. There s nothing you re not capable of. You have
made a great show of praising my predecessor in order to belittle me,
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