The Book of Shadows Read Online Free PDF

as a whip. But what distinguished Peronette was something ineffable at her core that roused or riled one; no one was indifferent to Peronette Gaudillon.
    I would learn that Peronette had come to C——just two days prior. I remember thinking, how strange that one should arrive during recess. “Family circumstance,” it seemed, had dictated that Peronette be consigned to the care of her aunt.
    â€œWho is your aunt?” I asked.
    â€œMy aunt,” said she, “is Mother Marie-des-Anges…. Of course, I have never known her by that name; it will take some getting used to.”
    I had naively taken the Mother Superior to be alone in the world. I believed this of every nun, that her marriage to Christ was her sole attachment. Yet the fact that Peronette and Mother Marie-des-Anges shared blood seemed to me somehow… right , for weren’t they both extraordinary?
    That first afternoon we slipped away from C——during the hours of private study. (This was at Peronette’s suggestion. I simply did not do such things, did not disobey .) We toured the farthest reaches of the grounds. When I turned to hurry back to the chapel at the sounding of the Angelus bell, Peronette grabbed my arm, looked deep into my eyes, and said, “We did not hear that.”
    â€œBut we’ll be in trouble,” I countered. “We’ll be scraping plates for a week.”
    â€œNo, we won’t. Who am I?” asked Peronette. “Answer aloud.”
    â€œYou are Peronette,” said I.
    â€œMore,” said she. “Go on.”
    â€œYou are the niece of Mother Marie-des-Anges.”
    And so we continued our tour, Peronette taking my hand in hers.
    I was nervous: I overspoke. I believe I proffered the Latin name for every animate and inanimate thing we saw. Finally, after I’d mumbled the name of a certain thin, barkless tree, as well as that of the mushrooms clustered at its base, Peronette let go my hand, turned toward me, and said, “Really, dear. Do tell me you’re this boring because you’re nervous.”
    I affirmed that that was indeed the case.
    â€œ Arrête! Your nervousness is unnecessary. And boring me further will cause me to cuff you.” She raised her hand. I thought I might cry. She started laughing and did, indeed, slap me—a quick slip of her hand across my cheek, which left a light, thrilling sting. I felt the heat in my cheek, the blood rise up. I held my hand over it for moments, until the skin cooled. I blinked back tears, cleared my vision. It seemed I had never been so exhilarated, so excited…so alive .
    Peronette soon had my hand again and we were off, weaving through a copse of tall trees toward the shore. I could smell the shore; then I heard the sea, the grate of the stones in the surf. Suddenly we stood atop a dune; from it, sculpted sand sloped down to the shore.
    Feeling wonderfully naughty, I followed Peronette down the dune; our descent was made on our buttocks, crab-style. She ran out upon the strand. I followed her over slippery, moss-covered stones, huge stones strewn about by the surf. Peronette perched on the largest. She took off her shoes and bade me do the same. She didn’t give a thought to this act but, of course, I did. I was as ashamed of my feet as I was of the rest of my body. I did not think I could do it. I knew I couldn’t. But I did. Again, Peronette had about her a…a power . That Peronette made me comfortable enough to do this is something for which I will remain forever grateful, despite all that came to pass. She thought nothing of baring her ankles before me, before “God and man.” How scandalized the sisters would have been!
    We sat on that rock a long while, squinting into the high sun, letting the sea air settle its briny, sweet perfume over us. Gulls rode the wind; their chatter ricocheted rock to rock. The water itself was still quite distant: low tide. I’d often heard