cussion on the question whether they should embroider the
flowers flame-colour, the stalks white, the leaves red, and at the top
in gold a border of moss-roses.

"But would it look natural?" said the nun.

"Then what are we to do?" answered the "benefactress" in an agitated
way. "Enlighten us, dear Sister; without you we are in darkness."

When the consultation was over, Sacha, who had waited impatiently,
approached Helene, took her arm, and led her to the drawing-room.

"I have been to your church to-day," she said. "I have looked for you
everywhere without seeing you."

"I generally stand on the right in a corner."

"In the shadow?"

"Yes; one feels more comfortable out of observation."

"It is a pity; I was looking forward so much to meeting you again, and
did not succeed."

"Why regret it?"

"Ah well! As a devotee you are simply superb; one would say you had
stepped out of the frame of a holy picture. And how they sing at your
convent! You have a magnificent voice."

"Who says so?"

"My aunt in the first place. At school it seems that you already held
every one under a spell."

"Your aunt is too kind."

"Not at all; she is only just. But tell me why do you not take part in
the convent choirs?"

"I do not wish to," said Helene, and a shadow passed over her face.

"Pardon me," murmured Sacha, taking her hand. "I have perhaps vexed you;
I am so foolish."

"Not at all," answered Helene. "It is not that. But you see, I ought not
to sing. Doubtless, you do not understand me. Anna Petrovna declares in
her kindness that I have overcome all sins, but it is not so. A nun
ought to seek before all things to forget the world where she has lived.
It ought not to attract her any more. No one knows anything of our
struggles and our mental distresses. If I recommenced to sing, the past
would rise again at once. Ah! I have experienced it already; one day I
was singing a church chant in my room; all the past came up in my heart,
and I nearly choked. That which I had fled from, that which I believed
dead and buried, returned. You see a spiritual victory is not won so
easily. Till one is 'dead to the world' one has many trials to pass
through. It is only outsiders who imagine that peace reigns in a
convent. If people could glance into our souls, they would see troubles
and storms at the bottom of each. But these are only words! Come and see
me, won't you?"

"Yes, certainly!" answered Sacha, stretching out her han