She noticed that the sun's rays were streaming in the girl's face.
"Pull down the blind, Monsieur l'Abbe," she said to Pierre.

"Come, come, we must install ourselves properly, and set our little household in order." Clad in the black robe of a Sister of the Assumption, enlivened by a white coif, a white wimple, and a large white apron, Sister Hyacinthe smiled, the picture of courageous activity.

Her youth bloomed upon her small, fresh lips, and in the depths of her beautiful blue eyes, whose expression was ever gentle.

She was not pretty, perhaps, still she was charming, slender, and tall, the bib of her apron covering her flat chest like that of a young man; one of good heart, displaying a snowy complexion, and overflowing with health, gaiety, and innocence.
"But this sun is already roasting us," said she; "pray pull down your blind as well, madame." Seated in the corner, near the Sister, was Madame de Jonquiere, who had kept her little bag on her lap.

She slowly pulled down the blind.