Slowly the Prioress let fall her arms.
"Enter," she said; and they flocked in.
"Sister Seraphine," said the Prioress, in awful tones, "has profaned the crucifix, reviling our blessèd Lord, Who hangs thereon."
All the nuns, falling upon their knees, hid their faces in their hands.
There was a terrifying quality in the silence of the next moments.
Slowly the Prioress turned, prostrated herself at the foot of the cross, and laid her forehead against the floor at its base. Then the nuns heard one deep, shuddering sob.
Not a head was lifted. The only nun who peeped was Sister Mary
Seraphine, prone upon the floor.
After a while, the Prioress arose, pale but calm.
"Carry her to her cell," she said.
Two tall nuns to whom she made sign lifted Sister Seraphine, and bore her out.