is
banishment would be noticed, and could not fail to be attributed to some
unheard-of and secret crime. Vaninka fell at the feet of the priest, and
in the name of her father, who would be disgraced by her shame, begged
him to mitigate the rigour of this sentence.

The confessor reflected deeply, then thought he had found a way to
obviate such consequences. It was that Vaninka should approach the Holy
Table with the other young girls; the priest would stop before her as
before all the others, but only say to her, "Pray and weep"; the
congregation, deceived by this, would think that she had received the
Sacrament like her companions. This was all that Vaninka could obtain.

This confession took place about seven o'clock in the evening, and the
solitude of the church, added to the darkness of night, had given it a
still more awful character. The confessor returned home, pale and
trembling. His wife Elizabeth was waiting for him alone. She had just
put her little daughter Arina, who was eight years old, to bed in an
adjoining room. When she saw her husband, she uttered a cry of terror,
so changed and haggard was his appearance. The confessor tried to
reassure her, but his trembling voice only increased her alarm. She
asked the cause of his agitation; the confessor refused to tell her.
Elizabeth had heard the evening before that her mother was ill; she
thought that her husband had received some bad news. The day was Monday,
which is considered an unlucky day among the Russians, and, going out
that day, Elizabeth had met a man in mourning; these omens were too
numerous and too strong not to portend misfortune.

Elizabeth burst into tears, and cried out, "My mother is dead!"

The priest in vain tried to reassure her by telling her that his
agitation was not due to that. The poor woman, dominated by one idea,
made no response to his protestations but this everlasting cry, "My
mother is dead!"

Then, to bring her to reason, the confessor told her that his emotion was
due to the avowal of a crime which he had just heard in the confessional.
But Elizabeth shook her head: it was a trick, she said, to hide from her
the sorrow which had fallen upon her. Her agony, instead of calming,
became more violent; her tears ceased to flow, and were followed by
hysterics. The priest then made her swear to keep the secret, and the
sanctity of the confession was betrayed.

Little Arina had awakened at Elizabeth's cries, and be