lady's sweet face! If she would just get one of our priests to baptize her into the true orthodox faith, I should like well enough to see you lead her up the church, a little farther than the font, Barrinka. I think she is almost good enough."
"Hold thy peace, Michael!" cried Ivan, half pleased, half angry, and blushing deeply. "How little you understand! I am not good enough to kiss her feet, or to take up the glove she has dropped and give it back to her."
At an early stage of their acquaintance Ivan discovered Clémence's little store of theological books, and asked leave to study them. It was now nearly a year and a half since he had begun to read his Bible with attention and interest; but books about religion were still quite new to him. He began their study eagerly, hoping to find a solution for some difficulties which had occurred to him; but, instead of this, fresh perplexities were awakened in his mind. He found that he had plunged into a labyrinth of words and ideas absolutely strange to him. It is true that the shallow scepticism of his youth had long since given place to the only real belief he ever knew. The flames of Moscow, the study of the New Testament, the living faith of the man whom he supremely admired and venerated, had been God's way of leading him into a simple, child-like dependence upon Himself, and a genuine desire to serve and follow Him. But of the deeper mysteries of spiritual experience he was still almost wholly ignorant.
One afternoon Madame de Salgues was slumbering in her easy-chair, and Madame de Talmont had been called away; so he found himself practically alone with Clémence. The opportunity was too precious to be lost. He took from his pocket a little book, "Les Pensées de Pascal," which he had been studying with deep and rather mystified attention. Showing her a passage her own hand had marked carefully, line by line, he asked,—
