poke in a whisper, but with such an intensity of
conviction that I too involuntarily raised my eyes and looked at the
ceiling, as though expecting to see something there. "Before the souls
of the just enter Paradise they have to undergo forty trials for forty
days, and during that time they hover around their earthly home." [A
Russian popular legend.]

She went on speaking for some time in this strain--speaking with the
same simplicity and conviction as though she were relating common things
which she herself had witnessed, and to doubt which could never enter
into any one's head. I listened almost breathlessly, and though I did
not understand all she said, I never for a moment doubted her word.

"Yes, my darling, she is here now, and perhaps looking at us and
listening to what we are saying," concluded Natalia. Raising her head,
she remained silent for a while. At length she wiped away the tears
which were streaming from her eyes, looked me straight in the face, and
said in a voice trembling with emotion:

"Ah, it is through many trials that God is leading me to Him. Why,
indeed, am I still here? Whom have I to live for? Whom have I to love?"

"Do you not love US, then?" I asked sadly, and half-choking with my
tears.

"Yes, God knows that I love you, my darling; but to love any one as I
loved HER--that I cannot do."

She could say no more, but turned her head aside and wept bitterly. As
for me, I no longer thought of going to sleep, but sat silently with her
and mingled my tears with hers.

Presently Foka entered the room, but, on seeing our emotion and not
wishing to disturb us, stopped short at the door.

"Do you want anything, my good Foka?" asked Natalia as she wiped away
her tears.

"If you please, half-a-pound of currants, four pounds of sugar, and
three pounds of rice for the kutia." [Cakes partaken of by the mourners
at a Russian funeral.]

"Yes, in one moment," said Natalia as she took a pinch of snuff and
hastened to her drawers. All traces of the grief, aroused by our
conversation disappeared on, the instant that she had duties to fulfil,
for she looked upon those duties as of paramount importance.

"But why FOUR pounds?" she objected as she weighed the sugar on a
steelyard. "Three and a half would be sufficient," and she withdrew a
few lumps. "How is it, too, that, though I weighed out eight pounds of
rice yesterday, more is wanted now? No offence to you, Foka, but I am
not going to waste rice