world, and everything which did not belong to him, to her, and their
love.

And she remembered this longing and yearning in a way very unlike a mere
dream. It seemed rather as if, while the moon was attracting her by its
magic power, something, which had long slumbered in the depths of her
soul, had waked to life; something, from which formerly, ere her heart
and mind had been able rightly to understand it, she had shrunk with
pious horror, had assumed a tangible form.

Now she dreaded this newly recognised sinful part of her own nature,
which she had imagined a pure vessel that had room only for what was
noble, sacred, and innocent.

She, too--she knew it now--was only a girl like those on whose desire for
love she had looked down with arrogant contempt, no bride of heaven or
saint.

She had not yet taken the veil, and it was fortunate, for what would have
become of her had she not discovered until after her profession this part
of her nature, which she thought every true nun, if she possessed it,
must discard, like the hair which was shorn from her head, before taking
the vow of the order.

During this self-inspection it became more and more evident that she was
not one person, but two in one--a twofold nature with a single body and
two distinct souls; and this conviction caused her as much pain as if the
cut which had produced the separation were still bleeding.

Just at that moment her eyes fell upon the image of the Virgin opposite,