Every person whatever is forbidden to shut herself up, to have “a place of her own, a chamber.” They live with their cells open. When they meet, one says, “Blessed and adored be the most Holy Sacrament of the altar!” The other responds, “Forever.” The same ceremony when one taps at the other’s door. Hardly has she touched the door when a soft voice on the other side is heard to say hastily, “Forever!” Like all practices, this becomes mechanical by force of habit; and one sometimes says “forever” before the other has had time to say the rather long sentence, “Praised and adored be the most Holy Sacrament of the altar.”
Among the Visitandines the one who enters says: “Ave Maria,” and the one whose cell is entered says, “Gratia plena.” It is their way of saying good day, which is in fact full of grace.
At each hour of the day three supplementary strokes sound from the church bell of the convent. At this signal prioress, vocal mothers, professed nuns, lay-sisters, novices, postulants, interrupt what they are saying, what they are doing, or what they are thinking, and all say in unison if it is five o’clock, for instance, “At five o’clock and at all hours praised and adored be the most Holy Sacrament of the altar!” If it is eight o’clock, “At eight o’clock and at all hours!” and so on, according to the hour.
This custom, the object of which is to break the thread of thought and to lead it back constantly to God, exists in many communities; the formula alone varies. Thus at The Infant Jesus they say, “At this hour and at every hour may the love of Jesus kindle my heart!” The Bernardines-Benedictines of Martin Verga, cloistered fifty years ago at Petit-Picpus, chant the offices to a solemn psalmody, a pure Gregorian chant, and always with full voice during the whole course of the office. Everywhere in the missal where an asterisk occurs they pause, and say in a low voice, “Jesus-Marie-Joseph.” For the office of the dead they adopt a tone so low that the voices of women can hardly descend to such a depth. The effect produced is striking and tragic.