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.