Roland observed a long, straight row of gravestones without inscriptions, and, on asking Manna about them, was told they marked the graves of the nuns.
"That is hard," said Roland, "to have to be nameless after death."
"It is but natural," returned Manna; "whoever takes the veil lays aside her family name and assumes a sacred one, which is hers until her death, and then another bears it."
"I understand." said Roland. "That is giving up a great deal. The name of the nun cannot be written on the gravestone, nor the family name either; yet there must be a great many of noble family buried here."
"Yes, indeed; almost all were noble."
"What should you say if we should be noble too?"
"Roland, what do you mean?" cried Manna, seizing him violently by the arm. "Can you speak of such a thing here and now? Come away; such thoughts are a desecration to the graves."
She led him out of the little burial-place and as far as the gravel path, when, suddenly leaving him, she turned once more to the cemetery and knelt down by the grave; then she rejoined her brother.
Lootz was standing with the luggage ready; Manna stepped into the boat with Roland, and the brother and sister were borne up the stream toward their home. All in the boat gazed with a pleased curiosity at the pair, who, however, sat quietly hand in hand, looking out upon the broad landscape.
"Tell me," urged Roland, "why you said, when you were going to that convent, that you, too, were an Iphigenia?"