"When it's natural," she said.
"Do you think people can become religious if they're not?" she asked suddenly.
I said that I didn't feel that I could, but it certainly did happen to some people.
"I'm afraid it will never happen to me," she said. "I used to hope it might never happen, but now I hope the opposite. Last night, after you went in, Aunt Netty took us to the café, and we all sat there: Mr. Rudd, Mabel, a Frenchman whose name I don't know, and M. Kranitski. The Frenchman was talking about China, and said he had stayed with a French priest there. The priest had asked him why he didn't go to Mass. The Frenchman said he had no faith. The priest had said it was quite simple, he had only to pray to the Sainte Vierge for faith, Mon enfant, c'est bien simple: il faut demander la foi à la Sainte Vierge. He said this, imitating the priest, in a falsetto voice. They all laughed except M. Kranitski, who said, seriously, 'Of course, you should ask the Sainte Vierge.' When the Frenchman and M. Kranitski went away, Mr. Rudd said that in matters of religion Russians were childish, and that M. Kranitski has a simpliste mind."
I said that Kranitski was obviously religious.
"Yes," she said, "but to be like that, one must be born like that."
I said that curious explosions often happened to people. I had heard people talk of divine dynamite.
"Yes, but not to the people who want them to happen."
I said perhaps the method of the French priest in China was the best.
"Yes, if only one could do it—I can't."