Let Loose the Dogs Read Online Free PDF

the sin of pride. However, the prioress was adamant. Their sister was withstanding the ravages of the cancer with the fortitude of the saints. They must all pray for her.
    The infirmarian took the silver aspergillum from the bowl that was on the bedside table and sprinkled holy water on the bed. Sister Philomena opened her eyes and smiled at her.
    “Thank you, Sister. I am so hot. Hell can hardly be worse than this.”
    Fortunately, Sister Genevieve, who lacked humour, did not understand these words. She picked up the clean linen bandages from the bedside table, preparing to change the dressing at the nun’s breast. Sister Philomena could not keep back a moan of pain. As gently as she could, Sister Genevieve removed the soiled cloth, biting back her exclamation of pity. She had grown up on a farm before she entered the convent. Her father had hunted animals to provide the family with food, and she had seen these carcases dumped on the kitchen floor. The breast of the dying nun looked as if it had been destroyed by a blast of shot.
    She bathed the wound with more of the holy water. Sister Philomena was hardly breathing, holding her lips pressed tightly together to hold back her moan of pain. Finally Sister Genevieve replaced the bandage and pulled up the thin blanket. Even its light weight seemed to cause pain, and she removed it at once.
    Sister Philomena looked up at her. “Has my brother arrived yet?”
    “Comment? ”
    “My brother” - she searched for the word - “mon frere? Est-il arrive? ”
    Sister Genevieve shook her head. This was at least the fourth time the other nun had asked this question. She seemed to have forgotten that according to his telegram, her brother was catching the first train from Toronto, and he wouldn’t be arriving until early evening.
    Sister Philomena was not yet of middle age, and although her face and limbs were emaciated, her brown eyes still had beauty. She was looking beseechingly at the older nun. In French, she said, “Please bring Mother St. Raphael to me.” She brought her hands together on her chest. “There is something I must confess.”
    The nun pursed her lips. Sister Philomena had received the sacrament of Extreme Unction this morning with all of the little community present. Fr. Hiebert had heard her confession then. Surely she had not contaminated her soul in such a short space of time. Sister Genevieve did not want to fetch the prioress unnecessarily. She turned away, pretending not to understand. The other nun spoke again, her voice suddenly stronger.
    “Please, I must talk to our Mother.”
    Genevieve was rescued from her dilemma by the entrance of the prioress herself.
    Mother St. Raphael was a tall woman, rather harsh of feature, except for a mouth that outside of the cloister would have been considered sensuous. She went straight to the bedside and placed her hand on the sick woman’s forehead.
    “I am here, my child.”
    Sister Philomena licked her dry, chapped lips. “I am so thirsty, Mother.”
    Mother St. Raphael signalled to Sister Genevieve to hand her the sponge, and she squeezed some moisture into Sister Philomena’s mouth then wiped her face gently.
    She was eased a little. “When will my brother be here?”
    The prioress sighed. “Monsieur Lavalle is meeting him at the train station, and he will bring him here at once. Not more than two or three hours from now.” She spoke English that had only the slightest of French accent.
    “Perhaps I will be in the arms of Our Lord by then.”
    “It is not for us to predict when we are garnered,” said the prioress, but her reproof was soft.
    Sister Philomena struggled to raise herself in the bed, but she couldn’t and was forced to lie back.
    “Shall we help you to sit up?”
    “No, I cannot bear it. But there is something I must tell you. Will you come closer?”
    Mother St. Raphael pulled the chair up against the bed and leaned her head toward the other nun. Sister Genevieve was busy folding the