the sign of the cross. Deeply, heavily she sighed, applied her
ice-cold lips to the image, and then signed to them with her hand
that they should carry her out speedily. She fancied that she saw the
Holy Virgin shake her head with a reproachful air.

"When they had carried Anastasia to her chamber, she felt better."

Hitherto none had shared her secret thoughts; but the experienced eye of
the widow Selínova had detected the nature of her malady, and she longed
to know the object of her affection.

"One day, they were sitting alone together, making lace. A kind of
mischievous spirit whispered her to speak of the heretic. Imagine
yourself thrown by destiny on a foreign land. All around you are
speaking in an unknown tongue; their language appears to you a chaos
of wild, strange sounds. Suddenly, amid the crowd, drops a word in
your native language. Does not then a thrill run over your whole
being? does not your heart leap within you? Or place a Russian
peasant at a concert where is displayed all the creative luxury and
all the brilliant difficulties of foreign music. The child of nature
listens with indifference to the incomprehensible sounds; but
suddenly Voróbieva with her nightingale voice trills out--_The cuckóo
from out the fírs so dánk hath not cúckooed._ Look what a change
comes over the half-asleep listener. Thus it was with Anastasia! Till
this moment Selínova had spoken to her in a strange language, had
only uttered sounds unintelligible to her; but the instant that she
spoke the _native_ word, it touched the heart-string, and all the
chords of her being thrilled as if they were about to burst.
Anastasia trembled, her hands wandered vaguely over her lace cushion,
her face turned deadly pale. She dared not raise her eyes, and