Ah, good sister! How kind you were, and how beautiful you looked, too, when you came to sprinkle us with holy water.

We could see you approaching, walking slowly along the gloomy aisles, draped in your white veil, which fell in such graceful folds, and which our friend Jacques admired so much.

Ah kind sister! You were the Beatrice of that Inferno.

So sweet were your consolations that we were always complaining in order to be consoled by you.

If my friend Jacques had not died one snowy day he would have carved you a nice little Virgin Mary to put in your cell, good Sister Sainte-Genevieve.
Well, and the muff?
I do not see anything of the muff.
_Another Reader_: And Mademoiselle Francine, where about is she, then?
_First Reader_: This story is not very lively.
_Second Reader_: We shall see further on.
I really beg your pardon, gentlemen, it is my friend Jacques' pipe that has led me away into these digressions.