ss continues to penetrate and to extend. On
him, doubtless, are acting the mysterious, white powers which are here
in the air; religious heredities which were asleep in the depths of
his being fill him now with unexpected respect and submissiveness; the
antique symbols dominate him: the crosses met in the evening along the
road and that plaster Virgin of the color of snow, immaculate on the
spotless white of the wall--

"Well, my children, talk of the things of Etchezar," says the Mother
Superior to Gracieuse and to her brother. "We shall leave you alone, if
you wish," she adds with a sign to Ramuntcho to follow her.

"Oh, no," protests Arrochkoa, "Let him stay.--No, he is not the one--who
prevents us--"

And the little nun, veiled in the fashion of the Middle Age, lowers her
head, to maintain her eyes hidden in the shade of her austere headdress.

The door remains open, the window remains open; the house, the things
retain their air of absolute confidence, of absolute security, against
violations and sacrilege. Now two other sisters, who are very old, set
a small table, put two covers, bring to Arrochkoa and to his friend a
little supper, a loaf of bread, cheese, cake, grapes from the arbor.
In arranging these things they have a youthful gaiety, a babble almost
childish--and all this is strangely opposed to the ardent violence which
is here, hushed, thrown back into the depth of minds, as under the blows
of some mace covered with white--

And, in spite of themselves, they are seated at the table, the two
smugglers, opposite each other, yielding to insistence and eating
absent-mindedly the frugal things, on a cloth as white as the walls.
Their broad shoulders, accustomed to loads, lean on the backs of the
little chairs and make their frail wood crack. Around them come and
go the Sisters, ever with their discreet talk and their puerile laugh,
which escape, somewhat softened, from under their veils. Alone, she
remains mute and motionless, Sister Mary Angelique: standing near her
brother who is seated, she places her hand on his powerful shoulder;
so lithe beside him that she looks like a saint of a primitive church
picture. Ramuntcho, sombre, observes them both; he had not been able to
see yet the face of Gracieuse, so severely her headdress framed it. They
resemble each other still, the brother and the sister; in their very
long eyes, which have acquired expressions more than ever different
remains something inexpli