ived the
Sacrament like her companions. This was all that Vaninka could obtain.

This confession took place about seven o'clock in the evening, and the
solitude of the church, added to the darkness of night, had given it
a still more awful character. The confessor returned home, pale and
trembling. His wife Elizabeth was waiting for him alone. She had just
put her little daughter Arina, who was eight years old, to bed in an
adjoining room. When she saw her husband, she uttered a cry of terror,
so changed and haggard was his appearance. The confessor tried to
reassure her, but his trembling voice only increased her alarm. She
asked the cause of his agitation; the confessor refused to tell her.
Elizabeth had heard the evening before that her mother was ill; she
thought that her husband had received some bad news. The day was Monday,
which is considered an unlucky day among the Russians, and, going out
that day, Elizabeth had met a man in mourning; these omens were too
numerous and too strong not to portend misfortune.

Elizabeth burst into tears, and cried out, "My mother is dead!"

The priest in vain tried to reassure her by telling her that his
agitation was not due to that. The poor woman, dominated by one idea,
made no response to his protestations but this everlasting cry, "My
mother is dead!"

Then, to bring her to reason, the confessor told her that his emotion
was due to the avowal of a crime which he had just heard in the
confessional. But Elizabeth shook her head: it was a trick, she said, to
hide from her the sorrow which had fallen upon her. Her agony, instead
of calming, became more violent; her tears ceased to flow, and were
followed by hysterics. The priest then made her swear to keep the
secret, and the sanctity of the confession was betrayed.

Little Arina had awakened at Elizabeth's cries, and being disturbed and
at the same time curious as to what her parents were doing, she got up,
went to listen at the door, and heard all.

The day for the Communion came; the church of St. Simeon was crowded.
Vaninka came to kneel at the railing of the choir. Behind her was her
father and his aides-de-camp, and behind them their servants.

Arina was also in the church with her mother. The inquisitive child
wished to see Vaninka, whose name she had heard pronounced that terrible
night, when her father had failed in the first and most sacred of the
duties imposed on a priest. While her mother was praying, she lef