"Why not say them, if you think them?" asked Annunziata.

"You mustn't think them either," said Maria Dolores.

"Oh, I can't help thinking them," said Annunziata, with a movement. "It
surely must be lovely to die and go to Heaven. If I were perfectly sure
I should go to Heaven, I would shut my eyes and die now. But I should
probably have to wait some time in Purgatory. And, of course, I might go
to Hell."

Maria Dolores' face was full of trouble. "You must not talk like that,"
she said. "You must not. It is wicked of you."

"Then, if I am wicked, I _should_ go to Hell?" inquired Annunziata,
looking alertly up.

Maria Dolores looked about her, looked across the river, down the
valley, as one in distress scanning the prospect for aid. "Of course you
would not," she said. "My dear child, can't we find something else to
talk of?"

"Do you think I shall have a very long and hard Purgatory?" asked
Annunziata.

Maria Dolores threw a despairing glance at the horizon.

"No, no, dear," she answered uneasily. "You will have a very short and
gentle one. Anyhow, you'll not have to consider that for years to come.
Now shall we change the subject?"