But I was
powerless. I could not break through the grating; the other door of the
secretary's room was locked.
"Don't strike at it," I said; "remain as motionless as you can, then
perhaps it will fly away. Striking at a wasp only enrages it."
"I can't stay quiet," she cried; "nobody could!" and she sprang behind
the table, making at the same time another slap at the buzzing insect.
"You will surely be stung," I said, "if you act in that way. If you will
slap at the wasp, don't use your hand; take something with which you can
kill it."
"What can I take?" she exclaimed, now running round the table, and
stopping close to the grating. "Give me something."
I hurriedly glanced around my study. I saw nothing that would answer for
a weapon but a whisk broom, which I seized, and endeavored to thrust
through the meshes of the grating.
"Oh!" she cried, as the wasp made a desperate dive close to her face,
"give me that, quick!" and she stretched out her hand to me.
"I cannot," I replied; "I can't push it through. It won't go through.
Take your bonnet."
At this, my nun seized her bonnet by a sort of floating hood which hung
around the bottom of it and jerked it from her head, bringing with it
certain flaps and ligatures and combs, which, being thus roughly
removed, allowed a mass of wavy hair to fall about her shoulders.
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