"May I come in?" said a voice behind the door. "Certainly," answered Helene. "Ah, it is you, Sister Athanasia." "Peace be with you, and God bless you; will you come to our Mother Varlaama." "What is it?" "Nothing; only a note for you, and they are waiting." The abbess was a stout, heavy woman, with a plain but honest face such as is often seen in tradesmen's widows who have lived a quiet life with a sober and affectionate husband. She received Helene with a tender kiss: "General Khlobestovsky's lady asks me to let you go to her this evening; she is particularly anxious about it and has sent the carriage." "But it was just this evening that I did not want to go out." "And why, may I ask? She is one of your old school-fellows, and what is more, rich and a fine lady. Go then for our sakes. Yesterday again her husband has sent us from the country two carts full of meal, flour and oil. We cannot refuse anything to such benefactors; he would regard it as a want of respect and would become indifferent to us. Make this sacrifice, Sister Helene, for the great advantage of us all. Finally I exact it as an act of obedience, as part of your conventual service. Go! Go!" So saying, she embraced and dismissed her. III Helene felt ill at ease every time that she entered the Khlobestovsky's drawing-room, not exactly because she disliked the mistress of the house; they had been school-fellows and had remained friends. The general was always absent; he preferred country life and the superintendence of his estate, in the first place because his affairs got on the better for it, and secondly he was thus out of reach of the sentimental and romantic claims of his wife, claims which his personal appearance did little to justify. Each time that the general's wife saw Helene again, she applied a fine cambric handkerchief to her eyes to wipe away some tears, her flabby cheeks quivered, and innumerable wrinkles appeared round her chin and mouth. "What self-sacrifice!" she invariably exclaimed, pressing her friend's hands. "How happy you are, my darling! while we are--how does one say it?--drowned in sin." "Plunged," corrected her children's governess. "Yes, plunged. Exactly so! You, on the other, are saving your soul, and are quite absorbed in God." Then she took Helene's hand and said, "You are tired; take my arm." "No, I am not, I assure you." "Still, do it, dear Sister." It was one of the general's wife's principles on commencing the conversation to speak with deference to her friend, though she was the younger of the two. "These matins, these vespers, these masses! ... It will indeed be well with you up there." And she lifted her large green eyes to the ceiling. This time also she did not omit the inevitable comedy, and taking Helene's arm, she drew her to her boudoir, where the sound of several voices was audible. "Come, dear, I have absolute confidence in you."