Pauline laughed merrily.
‘You dear child! Every one gets up the mountain if they keep on climbing.’
‘But I have not an atom of perseverance,’ sighed Muriel. ‘Christianity seems such a tremendous undertaking to me.’
‘Let me give you what was to me the beginning of all Gospels: “The kingdom of heaven is just as near us as our work is, for the gate of heaven for each soul lies in the endeavour to do that work perfectly.”
‘But, princess, you are such a royal creature. It seems such a waste for you to be buried here.’
‘The King never wastes, little one. If we have the angel aim and standard, we can consecrate the smallest acts. Don’t you know that “he who aims for perfectness in a trifle, is trying to do that trifle holily?”’
‘You dear princess! You make me think of one of Murillo’s pictures in the Louvre, which we saw when we were abroad last year. It is the interior of a convent kitchen, and instead of mortals in old dresses doing the work, there are beautiful white-winged angels. One puts the kettle on the fire, and one is lifting up a pail of water, and one is at the kitchen dresser reaching up for plates.’
Pauline smiled.
‘That is it exactly. How can anything we do be common when we remember our inheritance? You call me Princess, out of love, little one, but I am a princess in reality, for my Father is a King. Let me give you a good word which your father gave me long ago. “If you cannot realize your Ideal, you can at least idealize your Real.” I have been trying to do it ever since.’
‘That is just like papa,’ said Muriel, with a proud smile. ‘He says you are “pure gold,” princess.’