And yet, as she rose slowly to her feet and stood looking at him with outstretched hands, a strange mixture of expressions shining in her wonderful eyes, he realized in some measure the strength of her determination, felt the utter impotence of anything which he could say to her. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. He gripped the window-sill behind him. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. He's the only native I trust in these parts. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil.
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