to the gate. She was offended, and cried; and it seemed that trees and stars and bats felt pity for her, and that the clock, chiming musically, showed its compassion. She wept; and thought how good it would be to enter the monastery for life; on still summer evenings she would walk alone the garden paths, offended, insulted, uncomprehended on earth, with only God and the stars in heaven to see the sufferer's tears. In the chapel the vesper service continued. The princess stopped and listened to the chanting; how fine these voices sounded in the motionless, dark air! How sweet to weep and suffer, and listen to these hymns!
When she returned to her rooms she looked at her tear-stained face in a mirror, powdered it, and sat down to supper. The monks knew how she loved pickled sterlet, little mushrooms, Malaga, and simple honey gingerbread which smelt of cypress in the mouth; and each time she came they laid before her these. As she ate the mushrooms and drank the Malaga, the princess thought that she would soon be ruined and forsaken ; that the stewards, agents, clerks, and maids for whom she had done so much would betray her, and speak to her insolently; that the whole world would fall upon her, condemn her, turn her to scorn; and that she would give up her title, luxury, society, and retire to this monastery, uttering to no one a word of reproach ; that she would pray for her
