“Beatrice Varanger, you must do my will. I order you to open the door of the tabernacle, to take out what is within and to throw it to the ground!” Her voice rang clearly through the church. “And may the crime be on your soul for ever and ever,” she added in a low voice. A third time the figure moved. A strange flash of light played for a moment upon the tabernacle, the effect, Unorna thought, of the golden door being suddenly opened. But she was wrong. The figure moved, indeed, and stretched out a hand and moved again. A sudden crash of something very heavy, falling upon stone, broke the great stillness--the dark form tottered, reeled and fell to its length upon the great altar. Unorna saw that the golden door was still closed, and that Beatrice had fallen. Unable to move or act by her own free judgment, and compelled by Unorna’s determined command, she had made a desperate effort to obey. Unorna had forgotten that there was a raised step upon the altar itself, and that there were other obstacles in the way, including heavy candlesticks and the framed Canon of the Mass, all of which are usually set aside before the tabernacle is opened by the priest. In attempting to do as she was told, the sleeping woman had stumbled, had overbalanced herself, had clutched one of the great silver candlesticks so that it fell heavily beside her, and then, having no further support, she had fallen herself. Unorna sprang to her feet and hastily opened the gate of the railing. In a moment she was standing by the altar at Beatrice’s head. She could see that the dark eyes were open now. The great shock had recalled her to consciousness. “Where am I?” she asked in great distress, seeing nothing in the darkness now, and groping with her hands. “Sleep--be silent and sleep!” said Unorna in low, firm tones, pressing her palm upon the forehead. “No--no!” cried the startled woman in a voice of horror. “No--I will not sleep--no, do not touch me! Oh, where am I--help! Help!” She was not hurt. With one strong, lithe movement, she sprang to the ground and stood with her back to the altar, her hands stretched out to defend herself from Unorna. But Unorna knew what extreme danger she was in if Beatrice left the church awake and conscious of what had happened. She seized the moving arms and tried to hold them down, pressing her face forward so as to look into the dark eyes she could but faintly distinguish. It was no easy matter, however, for Beatrice was young and strong and active. Then all at once she began to see Unorna’s eyes, as Unorna could see hers, and she felt the terrible influence stealing over her again. “No--no--no!” she cried, struggling desperately. “You shall not make me sleep. I will not--I will not!”