"Nay, then, indeed!" she replied, impatiently. "Always have I hated
children. To escape from the vexations of motherhood were reason
enough for leaving the world."
Then the Prioress withdrew her protective arm, and looked sternly upon
Sister Seraphine.
"You are playing false to your vows," she said; "you are slighting your
vocation; yet no worthy or noble feeling draws your heart back to the
world. You do but desire vain pomp and show; all those things which
minister to the enthronement of self. Return to your cell and spend
three hours in prayer and penitence before the crucifix."
The Prioress lifted her hand and pointed to the figure of the Christ,
hanging upon the great rugged cross against the wall, facing the door.
The sublimity of a supreme adoration was in her voice, as she made her
last appeal.
"Surely," she said, "surely no love of self can live, in view of the
death and sacrifice of our blessed Lord! Kneel then before the
crucifix and learn----"
But the over-wrought mind of Sister Seraphine, suddenly convinced of
the futility of its hopeless rebellion, passed, in that moment,
altogether beyond control.
With a shout of wild laughter, she flung back her head, pointing with
outstretched finger at the crucifix.
"Death! Death! Death!" she shrieked, "helpless, hopeless, terrible!
I ask for life, I want to live; I am young, I am gay, I am beautiful.
And they bid--bid--bid me kneel--long hours--watching death.
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