The door of the chapel is heavy wood, dark and solid and serious. Godly. Les Portes Divines, thinks the nun randomly as she feels against its grain for the handle. Yahweh takes care of the way the virtuous go. She feels the love of Jesus, God's love, deep inside her, burning her up. It stabs through her, tearing her apart, like the sword that pieced the Virgin's heart at the crucixMion.