But, alas! this gentle treatment, these long silences, this quiet recitation of holy prayers, had but stirred the naughty spirit in Sister Seraphine.
Her shallow nature failed to understand the deeps of the noble heart, dealing thus tenderly with her. She measured its ocean-wide greatness, by the little artificial runnels of her own morbid emotions. She mistook gentleness for weakness; calm self-control, for lack of strength of will. Her wholesome awe of the Prioress was forgotten.
"But I do not want to die!" she exclaimed. "I want to live—to live—to live!"
The Prioress looked up, astonished.
The surface humility had departed from the swollen countenance of
Sister Seraphine. The petulant defiance was plainly visible.
"Kneel!" commanded the Prioress, with authority.
The wayward nun jerked down upon her knees, upsetting the stool behind her.
The Prioress made a quick movement, then restrained herself. She had prayed for patience in dealing with wilfulness.
"We die that we may live," she said, solemnly. "Sister Seraphine, this is the lesson your wayward heart must learn. Dying to self, we live unto God. Dying to sin, we live unto righteousness. Dying to the world, we find the Life Eternal."
On her knees upon the floor, Sister Seraphine felt her position to be such as lent itself to pathos.