Sarah loved nearly everything about the convent school at Grand-Champs. She loved the orchard and the big garden and the ivy-covered walls that enclosed them. Sometimes she would climb the highest wall overlooking the road and watch fine carriages carrying elegant ladies roll by on their way to Paris. When she had seen enough, she would scramble down from the wall and climb the trees, always reaching for the biggest and ripest piece of fruit. When she had eaten enough, she would swing down from the branches and chase tiny green lizards and fat gray rabbits throughout the rows of flowers and vegetables.
Old Monsieur Larchere, the gardener, never scolded her. Far from it. “Bravo Sarah!” he would shout as she climbed. “Bravo!” as she ran. Caesar, Monsieur Larchere’s dog, chased lizards and rabbits too, though he never caught anything. But Sarah loved Caesar because he could perform tricks. Monsieur Larchere had taught him to jump over a stick, shake hands, sit up and beg and even walk on his hind legs.
Often, in the afternoons, Sarah and Caesar would put on a show for the other girls. Caesar would perform all his tricks while Sarah rewarded him with bits of meat or cheese she had saved from her own lunch plate.
“Bravo Caesar! Bravo Sarah!” the girls would applaud. “Encore, encore!”
Yes, Sarah loved everything about school, except, well, school. In class she hid at the back of the room. When Sister Jeanette, the arithmetic teacher, asked her what was three times nine, her mouth would open but no sound would come out. When Sister Babette, the geography teacher, requested the name of France’s longest mountain range, Sarah’s lips would move, but not a word was heard.
“Poor Sarah,” the sisters whispered. “The poor child can’t remember a thing.”
One day, Mother Sophie, the head of the convent, gathered everyone together. The archbishop was going to pay them a visit, she announced. Because the archbishop was so important, they would have a celebration in his honor. And because the celebration was so important classes would be canceled for two whole weeks in order to prepare properly for the great day. The girls smiled. They had never seen the archbishop but they like him already. Sarah most of all.
The entire convent was cleaned inside and out. They washed the windows, scrubbed the floors and polished the statues of the saints till they shone. Outside, they mowed the grass, weeded the garden and pruned the each tree. Sister Bernice, the art teacher, showed the girls how to make garlands of roses and paper lanterns that could be lit by candles.
Monsieur Larchere helped them build an outdoor stage at one end of the garden. They were going to put on a show! Monique, who had the sweetest voice in the choir, was chosen to sing, while Marie, the best musician, would accompany her on the piano. After that, the students would present a play.
“It’s a miracle play called ‘Blind Tobias Regains His Sight,’” Sister Therese told the girls.
Sarah sighed. She loved stories about miracles.
“There are four roles,” Sister Therese continued. “Tobias, his little son, the Angel Rafael who guides them, and the terrible sea-monster Tobias must slay to regain his sight.” She looked at the girls’ upturned faces. “I will need actors. Who wants to be one?"
“I do! I do!” they all clamored, except for Sarah, who could only hold her breath and pray silently, ‘Choose me, choose me.’
“Yes, you, over there,” Sister Therese pointed to Mimi. “You can be the little son.” Mimi was the smallest and could easily dress as a boy.
“And you,” Sister Therese pointed to Genie, the tallest. “You can be Tobias.” Genie would have no trouble wearing a man’s tunic and breeches.
“But who shall be our Angel Rafael?” Sister Therese studied the crowd of eager girls. Sarah tried to look as much like an angel as she could. She raised her chin another inch, rolled her eyes upward and dropped her mouth open in what she hoped was a smile of blessed wonder.
“Yes, yes,” Sister Therese called out. “You, standing right next to Sarah. Yes, you, Louise.” Louise was one of Sarah’s best friends and the prettiest girl in the entire school. She had golden hair and blue eyes. When she cried even the strictest nuns said her tears were like shinning pearls. “Yes, Louise,” Sister Therese repeated. “You must be the angel.”
Sarah could remain silent no longer. “What about me,” she wailed. “Can’t I be anything?”
More...
Old Monsieur Larchere, the gardener, never scolded her. Far from it. “Bravo Sarah!” he would shout as she climbed. “Bravo!” as she ran. Caesar, Monsieur Larchere’s dog, chased lizards and rabbits too, though he never caught anything. But Sarah loved Caesar because he could perform tricks. Monsieur Larchere had taught him to jump over a stick, shake hands, sit up and beg and even walk on his hind legs.
Often, in the afternoons, Sarah and Caesar would put on a show for the other girls. Caesar would perform all his tricks while Sarah rewarded him with bits of meat or cheese she had saved from her own lunch plate.
“Bravo Caesar! Bravo Sarah!” the girls would applaud. “Encore, encore!”
Yes, Sarah loved everything about school, except, well, school. In class she hid at the back of the room. When Sister Jeanette, the arithmetic teacher, asked her what was three times nine, her mouth would open but no sound would come out. When Sister Babette, the geography teacher, requested the name of France’s longest mountain range, Sarah’s lips would move, but not a word was heard.
“Poor Sarah,” the sisters whispered. “The poor child can’t remember a thing.”
One day, Mother Sophie, the head of the convent, gathered everyone together. The archbishop was going to pay them a visit, she announced. Because the archbishop was so important, they would have a celebration in his honor. And because the celebration was so important classes would be canceled for two whole weeks in order to prepare properly for the great day. The girls smiled. They had never seen the archbishop but they like him already. Sarah most of all.
The entire convent was cleaned inside and out. They washed the windows, scrubbed the floors and polished the statues of the saints till they shone. Outside, they mowed the grass, weeded the garden and pruned the each tree. Sister Bernice, the art teacher, showed the girls how to make garlands of roses and paper lanterns that could be lit by candles.
Monsieur Larchere helped them build an outdoor stage at one end of the garden. They were going to put on a show! Monique, who had the sweetest voice in the choir, was chosen to sing, while Marie, the best musician, would accompany her on the piano. After that, the students would present a play.
“It’s a miracle play called ‘Blind Tobias Regains His Sight,’” Sister Therese told the girls.
Sarah sighed. She loved stories about miracles.
“There are four roles,” Sister Therese continued. “Tobias, his little son, the Angel Rafael who guides them, and the terrible sea-monster Tobias must slay to regain his sight.” She looked at the girls’ upturned faces. “I will need actors. Who wants to be one?"
“I do! I do!” they all clamored, except for Sarah, who could only hold her breath and pray silently, ‘Choose me, choose me.’
“Yes, you, over there,” Sister Therese pointed to Mimi. “You can be the little son.” Mimi was the smallest and could easily dress as a boy.
“And you,” Sister Therese pointed to Genie, the tallest. “You can be Tobias.” Genie would have no trouble wearing a man’s tunic and breeches.
“But who shall be our Angel Rafael?” Sister Therese studied the crowd of eager girls. Sarah tried to look as much like an angel as she could. She raised her chin another inch, rolled her eyes upward and dropped her mouth open in what she hoped was a smile of blessed wonder.
“Yes, yes,” Sister Therese called out. “You, standing right next to Sarah. Yes, you, Louise.” Louise was one of Sarah’s best friends and the prettiest girl in the entire school. She had golden hair and blue eyes. When she cried even the strictest nuns said her tears were like shinning pearls. “Yes, Louise,” Sister Therese repeated. “You must be the angel.”
Sarah could remain silent no longer. “What about me,” she wailed. “Can’t I be anything?”
More...