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left open at times when it was supposed to be locked, and especially
on days when they had been particularly cruel to me, when they had
stretched my violent character to breaking point and thought me out
of my mind. But as soon as I thought I had guessed that this way out
of life was, so to speak, being offered to me in my despair, that I was
being led by the hand to the well which I would always find ready to
receive me, I worried about it no more. My mind turned to other
things. I stood in the corridors and measured the height of the win-
dows. In the evenings, as I was getting undressed, quite without
thinking about it, I tested the strength of my garters. Another day I
refused food. I went down to the refectory and stood with my back to
the wall, with my hands by my sides and my eyes closed, and I did
not touch any of the food that had been put in front of me. I lost
myself so completely in this state that I was left there all alone after
the other nuns had gone. They made a point of withdrawing in
silence and leaving me there, and then I was punished for having
missed the service. What can I say? They turned me against almost
every available means of killing myself, because it struck me that, far
from opposing them, they were openly presenting these means to
me. Apparently we do not like being forced out of this world, and
perhaps I would not still be here now if they had pretended to want
to stop me. When people take their own lives, perhaps they are trying
to drive others to despair, and they hold back from doing it when
they think it is precisely what others want them to do. There are
subtle processes going on in our minds. In fact, if I can recall the
state I was in when I was next to the well, it is as if I was, deep within
me, screaming at those wretched women who went the other way so
as to facilitate a crime:  Just take one step in my direction, show at
least the slightest desire to save me, run to stop me, and rest assured
that you ll be too late. In fact I only carried on living because they
wanted me to die. The urge to torment and destroy others gradually
weakens in the real world, but never in convents.
That is how I was when, thinking back over my past, I thought
about having my vows rescinded. To begin with I did not think about
it very seriously. Alone, abandoned, and unaided, how could I pos-
sibly succeed with such a difficult plan, even if I had all the help that
I lacked? Nevertheless the idea helped to soothe me; it calmed my
mind, and I felt more like myself again. I kept out of trouble and I
The Nun 37
bore with greater patience the trouble that came my way. This
change in my character was remarked upon, and with some surprise.
The nastiness stopped abruptly, like a cowardly enemy pursuing you
whom you turn and confront when he is not expecting it. One ques-
tion that I would like to ask you, Monsieur, is why, amidst all the
dreadful ideas which a desperate nun has going through her mind,
she never thinks of setting fire to her convent? I never thought of
doing it or any other such thing, despite the fact that it would be very
easy to do. All you would have to do is take a torch on a windy day to
an attic, a pile of wood, or a corridor. No convent has ever burnt
down, and yet if it did, the doors would be flung open and anyone
who wanted to could escape. Could it be that we are afraid of the
danger that this would represent both for ourselves and for those
whom we love, and that we refuse a source of help which could
equally benefit us and those whom we hate? This last idea may be too
subtle to be true.
The more you think about a thing, the more you believe it to be
just and even possible: to find oneself in such a position is to be in a
position of strength. It took me just a fortnight: my mind works
quickly. What did I do? I wrote a statement of my case and handed it
over to be considered. Neither of these things was free from danger.
Since a revolution had come about in my way of thinking, I was
watched more closely than ever before. I could feel their eyes follow-
ing me. I could not take a single step without it being explained, and
every word I uttered was weighed up. They tried to get closer to me
and sound me out. They asked me questions, feigning sympathy and
friendship. They went back over my life, blamed me only slightly,
and then forgave me. They hoped I would behave better now, and
they sought to delude me that I would have a happier future. They
would come into my cell whenever they wanted, day or night, under
any pretext, suddenly and stealthily. They would open my curtains
and then leave again. I had got into the habit of sleeping fully
dressed; I had also got into the habit of writing out my confession.
On the days appointed for confession, I would go and ask the
Mother Superior for paper and ink, which she never refused me. So
I waited for the day of confession, and as I waited I drafted in my
mind what I wanted to say. It was a summary of everything I have
just written to you, the only difference being that I used false names.
But I made three silly mistakes: first, I told the Mother Superior that [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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