It was on one of the flagstones of this cloister that there was once picked up a confession which had been written out in advance，in order that she might not forget it，by a sinner of seven years：——
'Father，I accuse myself of having been avaricious.
'Father，I accuse myself of having been an adulteress.
'Father，I accuse myself of having raised my eyes to the gentlemen.'
It was on one of the turf benches of this garden that a rosy mouth six years of age improvised the following tale，which was listened to by blue eyes aged four and five years：——
'There were three little cocks who owned a country where there were a great many flowers.
They plucked the flowers and put them in their pockets.
After that they plucked the leaves and put them in their playthings.
There was a wolf in that country；there was a great deal of forest；and the wolf was in the forest；and he ate the little cocks.'
And this other poem：——
'There came a blow with a stick.
'It was Punchinello who bestowed it on the cat.
'It was not good for her；it hurt her.
'Then a lady put Punchinello in prison.'
It was there that a little abandoned child，a foundling whom the convent was bringing up out of charity，uttered this sweet and heart-breaking saying.
She heard the others talking of their mothers，and she murmured in her corner：——
'As for me，my mother was not there when I was born！'
There was a stout portress who could always be seen hurrying through the corridors with her bunch of keys，and whose name was Sister Agatha.
The big big girls——those over ten years of age——called her Agathocles.
The refectory，a large apartment of an oblong square form，which received no light except through a vaulted cloister on a level with the garden，was dark and damp，and，as the children say，full of beasts.All the places round about furnished their contingent of insects.
Each of its four corners had received，in the language of the pupils，a special and expressive name.
There was Spider corner，Caterpillar corner，Wood-louse corner，and Cricket corner.
Cricket corner was near the kitchen and was highly esteemed.It was not so cold there as elsewhere.
From the refectory the names had passed to the boarding-school，and there served as in the old College Mazarin to distinguish four nations.
Every pupil belonged to one of these four nations according to the corner of the refectory in which she sat at meals.
One day Monseigneur the Archbishop while making his pastoral visit saw a pretty little rosy girl with beautiful golden hair enter the class-room through which he was passing.
He inquired of another pupil，a charming brunette with rosy cheeks，who stood near him：——
'Who is that？'
'She is a spider，Monseigneur.'
'Bah！
And that one yonder？'
'She is a cricket.'
'And that one？'
'She is a caterpillar.'
'Really！and yourself？'
'I am a wood-louse，Monseigneur.'
Every house of this sort has its own peculiarities.
At the beginning of this century Ecouen was one of those strict and graceful places where young girls pass their childhood in a shadow that is almost august.At Ecouen，in order to take rank in the procession of the Holy Sacrament，a distinction was made between virgins and florists.There were also the'dais'and the'censors，'——the first who held the cords of the dais，and the others who carried incense before the Holy Sacrament.
The flowers belonged by right to the florists.Four'virgins'walked in advance.
On the morning of that great day it was no rare thing to hear the question put in the dormitory，'Who is a virgin？'
Madame Campan used to quote this saying of a'little one'of seven years，to a'big girl'of sixteen，who took the head of the procession，while she，the little one，remained at the rear，'You are a virgin，but I am not.'
BOOK SIXTH.——LE PETIT-PICPUS
Ⅴ DISTRACTIONS
Above the door of the refectory this prayer，which was called the white Paternoster，and which possessed the property of bearing people straight to paradise，was inscribed in large black letters：——
'Little white Paternoster，which God made，which God said，which God placed in paradise.
In the evening，when I went to bed，I found three angels sitting on my bed，one at the foot，two at the head，the good Virgin Mary in the middle，who told me to lie down without hesitation.
The good God is my father，the good Virgin is my mother，the three apostles are my brothers，the three virgins are my sisters.
The shirt in which God was born envelopes my body；Saint Margaret's cross is written on my breast.Madame the Virgin was walking through the meadows，weeping for God，when she met M.Saint John.
Monsieur Saint John，whence come you？'I come from Ave Salus.'
You have not seen the good God；where is he？'He is on the tree of the Cross，his feet hanging，his hands nailed，a little cap of white thorns on his head.'
Whoever shall say this thrice at eventide，thrice in the morning，shall win paradise at the last.'
In 1827 this characteristic orison had disappeared from the wall under a triple coating of daubing paint.
At the present time it is finally disappearing from the memories of several who were young girls then，and who are old women now.
A large crucifix fastened to the wall completed the decoration of this refectory，whose only door，as we think we have mentioned，opened on the garden.
Two narrow tables，each flanked by two wooden benches，formed two long parallel lines from one end to the other of the refectory.
The walls were white，the tables were black；these two mourning colors constitute the only variety in convents.
The meals were plain，and the food of the children themselves severe.
A single dish of meat and vegetables combined，or salt fish——such was their luxury.
