aloes
cast their reflections on the austere faces of the saints who could
scarcely be distinguished against their black background. Helene
remembered the nights of prayer which her mother and grandmother had
passed, prostrate at the foot of these same icons, and her sad heart was
penetrated by a warm feeling of devotion. When she left her home these
relics were the only things she had taken with her as they constituted a
link with her past; they afforded her a refuge from her sad thoughts.
But to-day, how could she get rid of them? She was incapable of praying;
her lips murmured the familiar words, her hands made the sign of the
cross, but there was no peace nor humility in her heart. She knelt down
and closed her eyes, but prayer did not come. In spite of years and of
distance, familiar faces surrounded her, and loved voices whispered in
her ear, "How pale you are!" "Why did you leave us to go so far?"

As though she feared insulting the sanctity of the icons she put out the
candles and went into the next room. She tried to tire herself out by
walking up and down her cell, but in vain; the vision followed her. She
did not struggle any more; like a swimmer at the end of his strength,
she yielded to the rising waves which were carrying her far away to the
land of memories.

The five years of struggles through which she had passed, those years of
prayers and struggles, all disappeared; she no longer saw her black
garments; even the walls of her cell had fallen; a whole world lay open
before her. Yes, it was the past which transported her to its magic
circle; she saw her youth again. Her sister Nina, with gentle trusting
eyes, came to her and embraced her with her tender arms in order to tell
her in broken tones a young girl's secrets. There was five years'
difference between the two sisters; the younger one was eighteen. She,
the elder, seemed somewhat too serious for her age; that perhaps was
owing to the influence of her mother, to her continual visits to
convents, and to that atmosphere of incense, prayer and meditation which
had surrounded her from her earliest infancy. The younger sister grew up
quite different; she was a butterfly who needed the sun, blue sky and
flower-beds; her laughter rang clear, contagious and musical. Helene
herself who had received the nickname "the nun," yielded to the charm of
this child-like gaiety. What she loved best in the world was to sit at
her window in the evening, listening to her