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Show IheDreM that Made V x I DeautimldVdUierer Sv I Luxuries of er Life Miseries S I Her to End These Wickednesses KteL ' - .miSMY 1 Z?v fe Lavalliere. I GO from the lights to the light. I am tired or the world, the stag? with Its B hectic rush, its superficiality and its I insincerity. r l F Undoubtedly I have enjoyed my carcor. I It would bo idle to say 1 l ave not Prino I uPfl statesmen have paid me court. Jewels jjwd gifts have been la i: .!'. upon mo I from admirers, many of whom I have never seen. Hut I know I have not won I this tribute but the glamor which sur-I sur-I rounds the life of a woman of the stage Perhaps it is well that 1 make it clear what has induced mo to pivo up the si ago I at the height of my career and enter upon preparation for my novitiate into the Car-I- xuelii ' rder 'it began with a dream T had. This was I in the days before the war. 1 had ome , I homo from the theatre with a number of I friends. We were very jolly, much wine I -was drunk, there was much laughter, much love and many kisses before the party broko up for the night. Day was V dawning before I got into bed. I fell I asleep at once, for the performance was I a heavy one for me and the gaycty also I tirod me. I At once I began to dream. T saw a pic-f pic-f ture of the stage, the co. tly sc-nerv and B drcs.-cs. the magnifimt gowns and jewels I of 'lie ponple in the audience. Then 1 saw I B.onts!l- of the theatre. It wan snowing. There were cold, half-starved little If Urchins of Paris huddling for shelter fm against the walls of tho house Old women wm verr' selling matches in (lie gutters, 71 drunk -n ni'-n wore slouching into a cab 1 arc i it i Kr F In a dream one can live through an age puf and think the thought- ol a lu'etime I M thought of all tho reckless extravagances T of which I had been guilty or of which 1 T had been the obk-ct I retailed particular m ftxperienc where ihe exnonditure nw At appeared io me paiticularly sinful, and I ty; recalled many acts of which I felt deeply di ashamed 9 dreaming mind went back to a ban- iWt that had been given one Sunday in If aiy honoi ;r a beautiful resort on the banks of , the Seine The table was en- ilrely decoraled with rare lavender-col-5 ored orchid.- lor my pleasure. These flow-3 flow-3 srs alone bad cost perhaps 10,000 francs. fK It was the most astonishing extravagance Kit one dinner that I had ever known, even In my varied experience, and made a deep I Impression tn me at the time. i The young man who gave the banquet f exhausted his vast fortune by a series of I similar acts and a !e-;al guardian had to i be appointed for him The banquet lasted all through the warm Summer night and at dawn we were assisted into our automobile and sped lack to Paris. As I was approaching my apartment it seemed that my car ran over an old woman wo-man who was too weak to step out of the way Though dead and crushed she stood up before my car all the way home, not saying a word but just looking at mo with reproachful, appealing ces. She war. a poor widow straggling to support a family and had been going to early work when my car ran over her. She was too weak from lack of food to step out of the way. 1 knew too well ihat there was an uncountable uncount-able number of such women. In my dream the contrasting figures were strangely mixed up. Then from above I heard a deep, sweet rich voice saying: "Help these people' Do not add to the sins of the world and increase the Batterings Batter-ings of the poor! Do not be a wilful parasite para-site of society! Take up yov.r cross!" I awoke then, feeling perturbed, but fell asleep again. But twice more T dreamed that dream. Each time I awoke and felt more frightened I could not get the memory mem-ory off my mind It haunted me all dav rnd was with me when I went to the theatre in the evening. And then the most curious thing happened. hap-pened. When en the stage I seemed to recognize the faces of those who were the audience of my dreams, and when T left the theatre it was snowing, and there, under un-der the walls, I saw the children of my dreams and the old women and the drunken lounger?. Truly, I was worried I went to a cure who lived near my apartment, and told him my experience. He told me to pray, and that he, too, would pray. I dreamt that dream again, and finally T was convinced con-vinced that I was called' by a divine message mes-sage to leave my life of vanity and to work for others instead of myself. During the war I made my definite severance sev-erance from the stage, but I gave no reason rea-son for it, but it was but the first of several steps toward the great change. I believe heaven sent me that vision in order to prepare me for the change. When the war was declared I was playing in Paris, and at once I determined to throw myself into other work. I threw off my low-cut stage gowns and donned the garb of a nursing sister. I attended the suffering suffer-ing poilus and the brave soldiers ol Britain. I Eve Lavalliere in Her Beautiful Bed That Belonged to the Historic Mile, de la Valliere, Favorite of King Louis XIV. "In my dream I saw the ( f H'': I throng of my extravagant jf;,, 4' i U y - admirers in the theatre and a V f lC 'j ( VV 1 poor old beggarwoman and a f A I ill ' starving child outside." Q 'IAtAi b i Then there was need of help among the poor of Paris 1 went back to them bees be-es use there were then plenty of nurses but fw women who could be patient with children In Paris 1 learned much of what I had mKsrd in m gay life upon tho :-.tage. I found the Holy Mother in those days, and she has guided me ever since It has been said that I am taking this Btep because of disappointment in love. It Is not so. I do not like to speak of such things, but it is truo that many men have wished me to marry At one time I so intended in-tended to do. but, as Is well known, the man I cared for was killed In the fighting in Alsace-Lorraine. I know It has been suggested that it is because of that am retiring from the stage. Those who BUggest such a tulng do not speak the truth I take the veil because I have heard a voice from heaven calling me. V I the past life of this spoiled darling of the Parisian stage and then consider tho ex-tveme ex-tveme hardships of the Carmelite nun's existence. When her novitiate is finally completed she will don a splendid bridal costume of white satin with lace and orange blossoms. blos-soms. In the convent chapel she v. ill say a last good by to her friends and then partake par-take of the mass. In deathlike silence there will be heard the sound of a key in a lock and a bolt withdrawn. The novice will bow to her friends for the last time and step forward, 'iv.o nuns will receive her and one will present to her a crucifix which the will kiss. Upon a rough brown cushion the bride must kneel. Beside her are placed the mantle, the scapular and the girdle of the nun's costume. "What do you demand?" asks the officiating offici-ating prelate "The mercy of God, the poverty of the order and the company of the Sisters," answers the postulant. "Will you constantly persevere In the order till death?" "I will " "Will you observe these things for the love alone of our Lord?" "Yes, with the grace of God and the prayers of the Sisters." Then a priest will hand to Eve Lavalliere Laval-liere tho brown robe, for which she has The Austerity of the fl Carmelite Nun's Existence Exist-ence Which Eve Lavalliere Laval-liere Will Assume for ? Life in Place of the Luxuries Lux-uries of Her Past Career V? I g'ven up her worldly Joys and she will pass the grating The Sisters will lead her to her cell, where she will put aside her wedding dress and put on the brown iobe. At one end of the wide circle Is a crown of orange blossoms and laid upon it a wooden cross. She will take up that cross and wear it for the rest of her life. From the time a Carmelite nun takes the veil until she dies she never exposes her face. She never speaks except when compelled to do so bv religious duties. She receives no visitor but death Even her own mother would not be permitted lo visit her. ' |