"And to hold your tongue about everything." "Yes, Reverend Mother." "When the vault is opened--" "I will shut it again." "But, first--" "What, Reverend Mother?" "You must let down something into it." There was a silence; and the prioress, after a pout of the lower lip, which looked like hesitation, continued,-- "Father Fauvent!" "Reverend Mother?" "You are aware that a mother died this morning." "No." "Did you not hear the bell?" "Nothing can be heard at the end of the garden." "Really now?" "I can hardly distinguish my own ring." "She died at daybreak." "And besides, this morning the wind did not blow in my direction." "It is Mother Crucifixion, a blessed saint." The prioress was silent, moved her lips for a moment, as if in mental prayer, and went on,-- "Three years ago, through merely seeing Mother Crucifixion pray, a Jansenist, Madame de Béthune, became orthodox." "Oh, yes, I hear the passing bell now, Reverend Mother." "The mothers have carried her into the dead-room adjoining the church." "I know." "No other man but you can or ought to enter that room, so keep careful watch. It would be a fine thing to see another man enter the chamber of the dead." "More often." "Eh?" "More often." "What do you mean?" "I say more often." "More often than what?" "Reverend Mother, I did not say 'more often than what,' but 'more often.'" "I do not understand you; why do you say 'more often'?" "To say the same as yourself, Reverend Mother." "But I did not say 'more often.'" "You did not say it, but I said it to say the same as you." At this moment nine o'clock struck. "At nine in the morning and every hour be the most Holy Sacrament of the altar blessed and adored!" said the prioress. "Amen," said Fauchelevent. The hour struck opportunely, for it cut short the "more often." It is probable that without it the prioress and Fauchelevent would never have got out of this tangle. Fauchelevent wiped his forehead; and the prioress gave another internal murmur, and then raised her voice. "In her life-time Mother Crucifixion performed conversions, after her death she will perform miracles." "She will do them," Fauchelevent said, determined not to give ground again. "Father Fauvent, the community was blessed in Mother Crucifixion. Of course it is not granted to every one to die, like Cardinal de Bérulle, while reading the Holy Mass, and exhale his soul to God while uttering the words, _Hanc igitur oblationem._ But though she did not attain such happiness, Mother Crucifixion had a very blessed death. She retained her senses up to the last moment; she spoke to us, and then conversed with the angels. She gave us her last commands; if you had more faith, and if you had been in her cell, she would have cured your leg by touching it. She smiled, and we all felt that she was living again in God,--there was Paradise in such a death." Fauchelevent fancied that it was the end of a prayer; "Amen," he said.