The _Miserere_ is to be chanted, until the ringing of the Refectory bell.

Mother Sub-Prioress will remain behind." The nuns dispersed, as quickly as they had gathered; seeking their cells, like frightened birds fleeing before a gathering storm.
The tall nuns who had carried Sister Seraphine returned and waited outside the Reverend Mother's door.
The Prioress stood alone; a tragic figure in her grief.
Mother Sub-Prioress drew near.

Her narrow face, peering from out her veil, more than ever resembled a ferret.

Her small eyes gleamed with a merciless light.
"Is mine the task, Reverend Mother ?" she whispered.
The Prioress inclined her head.
Mother Sub-Prioress murmured a second question.
The Prioress turned and looked at the crucifix.
"Yes," she said, firmly.
Mother Sub-Prioress sidled nearer; then whispered her third question.
The Prioress did not answer.

She was looking at the carved, oaken stool, overthrown.