to be overcome by
sleep. But it was a hard struggle, and her lids often fell, her head
drooped upon her breast.

Dawn was already glimmering without when the supplicant at last rose and
sought her couch. Her sister let her lie quietly for a while, then she
rose and put out the lamp which Eva had forgotten to extinguish. The
latter noticed it, turned her face towards her and called her gently. "To
think that you should have to get up again, my poor Els! Give me a
good-night kiss."

"Gladly, dearest," replied the other. "But it is really quite time to say
'good-morning."'

"And you have kept awake so long!" replied Eva compassionately, as she
threw her arms gratefully around her sister's neck, kissed her tenderly,
and then pressed her hot cheek to hers.

"What is this?" cried Els, with sincere anxiety. "Are you hurt, child?
Surely you are weeping?"

"No, no," was the reply. "I am only--I only thought that I had adorned
myself, decked myself out with idle finery, although I know how many poor
people are starving in want and misery, and how much more pleasing in the
sight of the Lord is the grey robe of the cloistered nun. I could
scarcely leave the hall in my overweening pleasure, and yet it would have
beseemed me far better to share the sufferings of the crucified Saviour."

"But, child," replied Els, striving to soothe her sister, "how often I
have heard from you and our aunt, the abbess, that no one was so cheerful
and so glad to witness the enjoyment of human beings and animals as your
St. Francis!"

"He--he!" groaned Eva, "he who attained the highest goal, who heard the
voice of the Lord wherever he listened; he who chose poverty as his
beloved bride, who scorned show and parade and the trappings of wealth,
as he disdained earthly love; he who celebrated in song the love of the
soul glowing for the highest things, as no troubadour could do--oh, how
ardently he knew how to love, but to love the things which do not belong
to this world!"

Els longed to ask what Eva knew about the ardent fire of love; but she
restrained herself, darkened the bed as well as she could with the
movable curtain which hung from the ceiling on both sides above the
double couch, and said: "Be sensible, child, and put aside such thoughts.
How loudly the birds are twittering outside! If our father is obliged to
breakfast alone there may be a storm, and I should be glad to have an
hour's nap. You need slumber, too. Dancing is tiresome. S