At an early stage of their acquaintance Ivan discovered Clémence’s little store of theological books, and asked leave to study them. It was now nearly a year and a half since he had begun to read his Bible with attention and interest; but books about religion were still quite new to him. He began their study eagerly, hoping to find a solution for some difficulties which had occurred to him; but, instead of this, fresh perplexities were awakened in his mind. He found that he had plunged into a labyrinth of words and ideas absolutely strange to him. It is true that the shallow scepticism of his youth had long since given place to the only real belief he ever knew. The flames of Moscow, the study of the New Testament, the living faith of the man whom he supremely admired and venerated, had been God’s way of leading him into a simple, child-like dependence upon Himself, and a genuine desire to serve and follow Him. But of the deeper mysteries of spiritual experience he was still almost wholly ignorant. One afternoon Madame de Salgues was slumbering in her easy-chair, and Madame de Talmont had been called away; so he found himself practically alone with Clémence. The opportunity was too precious to be lost. He took from his pocket a little book, “Les Pensées de Pascal,” which he had been studying with deep and rather mystified attention. Showing her a passage her own hand had marked carefully, line by line, he asked,-- “Mademoiselle, what does that mean? I confess I cannot understand it.” She read--“‘I see my abyss of pride, of curiosity, of sin. There is no connection between me and God, or the holy Jesus Christ. But he has been made sin for me; by his wounds we are healed. He has healed himself, and therefore assuredly he will heal me. I must place my wounds upon his, must give myself to him, and he will save me with himself.’” Clémence paused a while. “I think it means,” she said at last very reverently, “that the Lord Jesus Christ has taken our sins upon him, and put himself in our place. We should be quite overwhelmed when we come to see the ‘abyss’ of sin that is within us, if we did not know he had done so. But he has taken our sin and bound it about him like a robe, that we may take his righteousness and stand before the Father robed in that.” This, however, was a height beyond the range of her own ordinary spiritual experience. So she added presently, with an involuntary sigh, “_If_ only we are numbered amongst his redeemed.” “It is very wonderful,” answered Ivan thoughtfully. “Of course I always knew the blessed Lord died for our sins,” he added, crossing himself; “but I never felt that there was any ‘abyss’ of sin within me. Do you think, mademoiselle, that one must feel that in order to be really religious?”