noon
And from to-day , Clémence , you must begin to wear her mourning in your heart , a heart always so maternally disposed towards her . Whether our child be buried beneath the marble of the tomb or the vault of the cloister , what is the difference to us ? Hardly eighteen years of age , yet dead to the world ! At noon the profession took place , with solemn pomp , and I was present , concealed behind the curtains of our pew . I felt , but even with greater intensity , all the poignant emotion we underwent at her novitiate . How strange ! She is adored !