She wanted to stay because she had nowhere else to go.
It was a curious sensation this, that nobody in the world cared two straws whether she was alive or dead.
"I cannot understand that you should be reluctant to go home," pursued the Superior amiably. "There are many foreigners in this country who would give a great deal to have your chance!"
"But not you, Mother?"
"Oh, with us it is different, my dear child.
When we come here we know that we have left our homes for ever."
Out of her own wounded feelings emerged the desire in Kitty's mind, malicious perhaps, to seek the joint in the armour of faith which rendered the nuns so aloofly immune to all the natural feelings.
She wanted to see whether there was left in the Superior any of the weakness of humanity.
"I should have thought that sometimes it was hard never to see again those that are dear to you and the scenes amid which you were brought up."
The Mother Superior hesitated for a moment, but Kitty, watching her, could see no change in the serenity of her beautiful and austere face.
"It is hard for my mother who is old now, for I am her only daughter and she would dearly like to see me once more before she dies.
I wish I could give her that joy.
But it cannot be and we shall wait till we meet in paradise."
"All the same, when one thinks of those to whom one is so dear, it must be difficult not to ask oneself if one was right in cutting oneself off from them."
"Are you asking me if I have ever regretted the step I took?" On a sudden the Mother Superior's face grew radiant. "Never, never.
I have exchanged a life that was trivial and worthless for one of sacrifice and prayer." There was a brief silence and then the Mother Superior, assuming a lighter manner, smiled. "I am going to ask you to take a little parcel and post it for me when you get to Marseilles.
I do not wish to entrust it to the Chinese post office.
I will fetch it at once."
"You can give it to me to-morrow," said Kitty.
"You will be too busy to come here to-morrow, my dear.
It will be more convenient for you to bid us farewell to-night."
She rose, and, with the easy dignity which her voluminous habit could not conceal, left the room.
In a moment Sister St Joseph came in.
She was come to say good-bye.
She hoped that Kitty would have a pleasant journey; she would be quite safe, for Colonel Y #252; was sending a strong escort with her; and the sisters constantly did the journey alone and no harm came to them.
And did she like the sea?
Mon Dieu, how ill she was when there was a storm in the Indian Ocean, Madame her mother would be pleased to see her daughter, and she must take care of herself; after all she had another little soul in her care now, and they would all pray for her; she would pray constantly for her and the dear little baby and for the soul of the poor, brave doctor.
She was voluble, kindly, and affectionate; and yet Kitty was deeply conscious that for Sister St Joseph (her gaze intent on eternity) she was but a wraith* without body or substance.
She had a wild impulse to seize the stout, good-natured nun by the shoulders and shake her, crying:
"Don't you know that I'm a human being, unhappy and alone, and I want comfort and sympathy and encouragement; oh, can't you turn a minute away from God and give me a little compassion; not the Christian compassion that you have for all suffering things, but just human compassion for me?"
The thought brought a smile to Kitty's lips: how very surprised Sister St Joseph would be!
She would certainly be convinced of what now she only suspected, that all English people were mad.
"Fortunately I am a very good sailor," Kitty answered. "I've never been sea-sick yet."
The Mother Superior returned with a small, neat parcel.
"They're handkerchiefs that I've had made for the name-day of my mother," she said.
"The initials have been embroidered by our young girls."
Sister St Joseph suggested that Kitty would like to see how beautifully the work was done and the Mother Superior with an indulgent, deprecating smile untied the parcel.
The handkerchiefs were of very fine lawn and the initials embroidered in a complicated cypher were surmounted by a crown of strawberry leaves.
When Kitty had properly admired the workmanship, the handkerchiefs were wrapped up again and the parcel handed to her.
Sister St Joseph, with an "Eh bien, Madame, je vous quitte" and a repetition of her polite and impersonal salutations, went away.
Kitty realized that this was the moment to take her leave of the Superior.
She thanked her for her kindness to her.
They walked together along the bare, whitewashed corridors.
"Would it be asking too much of you to register the parcel when you arrive at Marseilles?" said the Superior.
"Of course I'll do that," said Kitty.
She glanced at the address.
The name seemed very grand, but the place mentioned attracted her attention.
"But that is one of the chateaux I've seen.
I was motoring with friends in France."
"It is very possible," said the Mother Superior.