"Not at all," answered Helene. "It is not that. But you see, I ought not to sing. Doubtless, you do not understand me. Anna Petrovna declares in her kindness that I have overcome all sins, but it is not so. A nun ought to seek before all things to forget the world where she has lived. It ought not to attract her any more. No one knows anything of our struggles and our mental distresses. If I recommenced to sing, the past would rise again at once. Ah! I have experienced it already; one day I was singing a church chant in my room; all the past came up in my heart, and I nearly choked. That which I had fled from, that which I believed dead and buried, returned. You see a spiritual victory is not won so easily. Till one is 'dead to the world' one has many trials to pass through. It is only outsiders who imagine that peace reigns in a convent. If people could glance into our souls, they would see troubles and storms at the bottom of each. But these are only words! Come and see me, won't you?" "Yes, certainly!" answered Sacha, stretching out her hand. "I love you much, Sacha; you are honest. Au revoir. God be with you." "Where are you going?" exclaimed the general's wife. "What! Without taking tea. I won't let you go. After tea they will put up for you a basket of preserves to take to the abbess, that good soul. She prefers quince-preserve. As for you, I don't offer you any; you have renounced all these luxuries; you no longer belong to this world!" And once more her cheeks began to quiver and her green eyes grew moist. "How charming you were at school! Tall, well-shaped, like a figure in Dresden china. Do you ever remember the school, Sister Helene?" "Yes, of course," said Helene, with an abstracted air, only half-attending to her. "I remember they had brought you from far away--the Caucasus, wasn't it? They had written to me, I remember." The nun bent her head in order to hide her disturbance of mind. When she raised it again, she had grown still paler, and her sad eyes showed physical pain controlled with difficulty. But the general's wife, who never paused to notice anything, did not guess at her trouble. She had risen, and stuttering very fast, said, "This evening we will give you a musical treat. I know you love music, Helene, and that is not a sin. I think there was a saint--what was her name?" "Saint Cecilia," said the governess. "Yes, precisely. She was a musician, and yet she has been canonized; you will find it in books." Helene remained. She felt an irresistible desire to hear music--something besides the human voice or the voice of her heart. "Is it you who will play?" she said, approaching Sacha. "Yes; tell me what you prefer; I only warn you that I don't play anything very serious."