"Then temptation has no power over thee. Is it so? Art thou never 'drawn away of thine own lust, and enticed'?"
"Well, I am not perfect," said I. "I suppose nobody expects to be."
"Yet without absolute perfection, Helena, thou canst never enter Heaven."
"O holy Mother!" cried I.
"Where art thou about to get it?" said she.
"I am sure I do not know!" I replied blankly.
"Thou shouldst know, my child," she responded gently. "Think about it."
I cannot guess what she means. I am sure I may think about that for a year, and be no nearer when I have done.
I have had a great pleasure to-day, in the shape of a letter from Monseigneur our father, addressed to Guy, but meant for us all three. He wrote about six months after we set out; and I should hope he has before now received my letter, which I sent off on the first opportunity after our arrival in the Holy City. Every body seems to be well, and Alix has a baby boy, whom she means to call after Monseigneur—Geoffrey. There is no other special news. Level, he says, misses us sorely, and lies at my door with his nose between his paws, as if he were considering what it could all mean. I wonder whether he thinks he comes to any satisfactory solution.
The Lord King, I hear, has been more indisposed for some days past. The Lady Queen is very attentive to him. Lady Isabel and her lord have gone through another tremendous quarrel,—about what I do not know.