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 blessèd 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." Her
voice rose to a piercing scream. "Ah, HA! That will I NOT! A dead
God cannot help me! I want life, not death!"

Shrieking she leapt to her feet, flew across the room, beat upon the
sacred Form with her fists; tore at It with her fingers.

One instant of petrifying horror. Then the Prioress was upon her.