THE ORPHAN OF THE RHINE
PART 24
Chapter 7
Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure.
Sober, stedfast, and demure.
All in a robe of darkest grain.
Flowing with majestic rain.
And sable stole of cyprus lawn.
Over thy decent shoulders drawn;
Come, but keep thy wonted state.
Even step, and musing gait.
And looks commencing with the skies.
Thy wrapt soul sitting in thine eyes.
--MILTON
As soon as
Laurette arose, she received an invitation from the Abbess to attend her in the
breakfast-parlour, which was delivered by the Nun who had directed her to her
chamber on the preceding night, distinguished from the rest by the name of
sister Monica. Having returned this mark of politeness with her accustomed
grace, she followed her conductor down the principal staircase, and was ushered
into the presence of the Superior, who arose on her entrance, and, with an air
of dignified gentleness, offered her a place by the fire. Laurette blushed
deeply at the awkwardness of her situation, being thus led into the presence of
a stranger without any previous introduction, who, she considered, might
possibly form an opinion of her by no means to her advantage.
Having
accepted her offer with a degree of modest diffidence, which rather augmented
than detracted from the natural elegance of her manners, she awaited, with
mingled anxiety and impatience, the arrival of the Conte della Croisse.
Her wishes
were uot long protracted; for scarcely had they partaken of the morning's
refreshment, before the Conte, attended by the Abbot, after a short message to
signify their intention, entered the room. Laurette being aware of the
necessity of leaving them alone, and observing that some of the Nuns, among
whom was sister Monica, were walking in a grove of acacia and mountain ash,
that overshadowed the edge of the lawn, which the window of the convent-parlour
commanded, gained the Abbess's permission to retire, and hastened to join them,
rather wishing for the moment to avoid Madame Chamont than to meet with her,
lest the sudden surprise might be too powerful to be sustained with fortitude.
It was a clear frosty morning in the beginning of December; the air was
excessively chill, but the range of hills that almost encompassed the
monastery, as well as the high walls which bounded the gardens, sheltered its
inhabitants from those bleak and petrifying winds, which are so much dreaded in
mountainous countries. The party of Nuns seemed to regard Laurette with a gaze
of curiosity as she approached, frequently turning to observe her as she moved
pensively through the avenues; whilst sister Monica, who was apparently
solicitous to conciliate her esteem by the gentle offices of courtesy, advanced
forwards to meet her, offering at the same time to show her all that was worthy
of notice in the gardens, as far as the austerity of her rules permitted her.
Though
secluded in this religious retirement from earliest youth, this Nun understood
and respected the laws of politeness; and though there was much in the
appearance of her new acquaintance to excite an interest in her concerns, she
forbore to infringe upon them by minute interrogation. The rest of the Nuns
having taken a contrary direction, Laurette was left alone with sister Monica,
who beguiled the moments of suspense by leading her through the grounds
allotted to the vestals, which displayed through the neglected wildness of the
whole some vestiges of antique taste, perfectly in unison with the whole of the
structure, which, she was informed, had formerly belonged to a suppressed
society of a less modern institution than that of the reformed Benedictine Nuns
of the congregation of Mount Calvary, which she learned, upon Inquiry, was
newly founded by Madame Antonia, of Orleans, Princess of France.
By this
communicative Nun Laurette was made acquainted with many anecdotes connected
with the lives of several of the present mhabitants of the cloister, to which
she listened with eager attention, being in momentary expectation of obtaining
some intelligence relative to her maternal friend; but on her sad story the
sister never touched, from which it appeared that she was either totally
unacquainted with it, or that some primary cause prevented her from reverting
to it. Though sister Monica possessed nothing of that childish levitv, with
which the manners of youth are sometimes infected, there was a certain vivarnty
of expression and a certain correspondent look attending it, unobseured by the
gloom of a convent, which rendered her a very interesting and pleasing
companion; and Laurette, who, from the natural gentleness of demeanour she
displayed on a first introduction, had beheld her with partiality, now
experienced an increasing sentiment of affection in her favour.
As they
walked slowly through the gardens, Laurette could not forbear expressing her
surprise at the wildness and neglect which was every where visible; at the same
time remarking, that those places consecrated to religion which had hitherto
fallen under her observation, had generally exhibited a very different
appearance.
'This will
easily be accounted for,' returned the Nun, 'when you are informed that the
Superior of this convent, though in other respects almost unexceptionahie in
every species of goodness, allows her mind to be contaminated with one vice,
whose baleful influence deprives her of that respectful regard which would
otherwise be paid to her virtues; namely, that of an inordinate love of wealth.
This feverish and ever-growing desire has been productive of many serious
distresses, not only to those who are under her immediate protection, but
extending also to herself. It has occasioned her to exist in a state of
continual warfare between duty and inclination. She is sensible of the danger
of this augmenting attachment; but wants firmness and zeal to subdue it. This
foible, or this vice,' resumed the sister, 'for it deserves no softer
appellation, has not only blunted the natural edge of her sensibility, which I
have frequently heard her declare was too acute to be endured, but it has
weakened her judgment, and by constant and guilty indulgence has checked the
active benevolence of her nature, which might otherwise have been directed to
the noblest purposes. But I am wandering widely from my subject,' continued the
Nun, sportively, 'and must endeavour to return to it.' She then gave Laurette
an accurate account of every curiosity the gardens contained, which were
numerous, and from the antiquity of appearance which the whole of them
discovered, might be said to merit observation.
Having
rambled over a considerable part of the grounds, a walk, conducting them
through several little picturesque windings, directed them into what the Nun
termed the wilderness, which, from its disordered and uncultivated state, might
be allowed to deserve the name which the recluse had bestowed upon it. A path
was, however, cut among the trees; and several recesses, in which were placed
seats of wood, or wicker work, frequently presented themselves. Laurette, at
the desire of her friend, took possession of one of them, and was informed by
her that this little melancholy retreat was a favourite resort with the greater
part of the society, who were probably walking towards the contrary end, or had
seated themselves in one of those little summer recesses which were made for
their accommodation. 'Some of them I hear not far distant,' resumed sister
Monica; 'speak low, or they will overhear our conversation.'
She had no
sooner made this remark than the sound of approaching voices proved the truth
of the assertion; and two Nuns, the one in her noviciate state, and the other
in her veiled one, moved slowly beneath the thick plantation of firs that
guarded the entrance, and then advanced towards the arbour in which they were
seated. Laurette did not immediately perecive them, till her new acquaintance
pulling her gently by the sleeve, said, 'They are here. This nearest the recess
is she who was professed yesterday; and on the contrary side is sister Juliana;
they are inseparables; if we remain here a moment we shall see them pass.'
She had
scarcely ceased speaking before they came up close to the arched tree under
which Laurette and the sister Monica were seated. As soon as they had arrived
within a few steps of the bench, the newly-professed Nun, after having given
them a transient survey, courtesied meekly, and passed on; whilst her
companion, who was much taller, moved pensively by her side with a mournful and
dejected air, without once lifting her eyes from the ground on which they
appeared to have been riveted. She had now, however, advanced many paces before
she turned, and raising her veil, that entirely covered her features,
discovered a face which Laurette imagined, from the cursory survey she had
obtained, was Madame Chamont's. But the hasty manner in which the veil was
replaced, and the obscurity of her own situation did not allow her to be
certain. Scarcely had she recovered from the agitation this incident had
occasioned, before one of the pensioners advanced with a hurried step towards
the sisters, and addressing herself to the novice, informed her that she was
wanted immediately in the apartment of the Superior, where a person, whose
business was of merit, was in waiting to see her.
'To see
me!' returned a voice, which Laurette instantly discovered to be that of Madame
Chamont, though it was rendered tremulous by surprise; 'who can want me?' The
pathetic energy of her articulation, and the corrected sadness of her manners,
as she turned towards the messenger, pressed forcibly upon the heart of
Laurette; and but for the necessity of submitting her inclination to the
dictates of prudence, she would gladly have thrown herself into her arms, and
have acquainted her, without reserve, with the happiness that awaited her.
As soon as
the Nuns had retired from the wilderness, Laurette ve ntured to inquire of
sister Monica how long the novice, to whom the message was delivered, had been
resident in the convent; and was informed somewhat above a year.
'Do you
know any thing of her story?' rejoined Laurette.
'I am not
in her confidence,' returned the sister; 'but this circumstance, as it does not
detract from her worth, does not lessen her in my estimation, as she has
doubtless some secret reason to justify the strict silence as to her former
life, family, and connexions, which she has hitherto preserved; and,
notwithstanding this secrecy, she is more beloved than the rest of the
sisterhood, though though I do not imagine any of them, not even the Nun to
whom she is most attached, are better informed upon the subject than myself.'
They had
now passed through the wilderness, and were conducted by a gentle descent into
a little rocky recess, which appeared like a natural cave. This perfectly
coincided with the rest of the grounds; for the entrance was so wild, that it was
with difficulty they were enabled to proceed. After some little exertion they,
however, accomplished their design; and entering this little romantic dell,
placed thernselvcs upon a stone seat, which was encrusted with moss, whilst the
number of weeds, and self-planted shrubs, that waved from the brow of the arch,
contributed to the correspondent gloom of its appearance. Here they paused for
some moments, listening, with tender, yet melancholy sensation, to the murmur
of a tinkling rill, which was heard falling in gentle meanders among the
channels of the neighbouring hills. There was something in this soothing sound
which reminded Laurette of the past, of those days of juvenile delight, which
she had spent at the castle of Elfinbach, whose spacious domain contained a
wild and solitary spot riot unlike her present situation, where she had often
listened to the sad cadence of a waterfall in the stillness of the evening.
This brought to her recollection the feelings connected with these memories,
the numerous hopes, fears, and anxieties that had oppressed and agitated her
bosom, and the gloomy hours of retrospection which she had afterwards suffered
when those days were remembered.
Wherever
we have a kindred melody
The scene
recurs, and with it all its pleasures and its cares.
But the
future, since she had now a generous protector who would never forsake her,
presented only visions of happiness; and at times she found it as difficult to
support that uniform calmness of mind, which ever accompanies the greatness in
the midst of expected felicity, as to endure that appalling malignity with
which fortune had hitherto treated her.
As soon as
they had retired from this lonely dell, they proceeded through a vista towards
the western lawn, which presented nothing worthy of attention, except a large
ancient cross, which was erected in the centre. When arrived at the base of
this sacred memento, sister Monica numbered the beads upon her rosary, and then
prostrated herself before it; whilst Laurette, after bowing humbly as she
advanced towards it, paused for a few minutes to examine the figures which were
represented upon the pedestal, and the rudely-formed characters, which age had
long since obscured, and now nearly obliterated. The steps, 'which holy knees
had worn', were almost sunk into the earth; the stones were fractured and
discoloured, and overgrown with several vegetable encrustations; and though
preserved by superstition from actual decay, were broken and deranged by time.
Whilst
Laurette stood musing upon the impossibility of saving even these vestiges of
holy record from the oblivious grasp of age, and the meek Nun with bended knees
was invoking the shades of the departed, those long since mingled with the
dust, to look down upon her, and to assist her weak endeavours after piety; a
novice, unperecived till she had reached the side of Laurette, summoned her
into the apartment of the Superior. Though she had been for some time in
expectation of a similar address, a tremulous sensation took possession of her frame,
and sister Monica observing the sudden change of her complexion, which from
being more than usually pale, was instantly suffused with blushes, and that
shortness of respiration proceeding from extreme solicitude, offered her arm,
which Laurette gladly accepted, as she advanced with a quick, unequal pace
towards the door leading to the cloisters. Having crossed these, she stopped
for a moment to recollect her spirlts, and heard, as distinctly as joy and
agitation would permit her to hear, the voice of Madame Chamont, elevated into
notes of transport. Impatience could now no longer be restrained, and pushing
open the door with a kind of gentle violence, she soon found herself locked to
the bosom of her long-lost friend. Any attempt to do justice to the feelings of
the beautiful orphan, of Enrico, or even of the Conte della Croisse, who had
just witnessed a scene as tender, and if possible still more touching, when he
introduced to his amiable benefactress a son whom she had mourned as dead,
would be vain. Rapture broke forth into tears, and it was brig before the
charming Nun could believe the happiness that awaited her was not visionary,
before she could assure herself that she was not still under the influence of
some enchanting dream, from which she feared to he awakened to a sense of
former distress. It was not immediately that Laurette was conscious that the
room contained any other inhabitant than Madame Chamont: even Enrico was absent
from her thoughts, and the tender glances which lie frequently conveyed to her
whilst he saw more than filial affection expressed in the fine language of her
eyes, were, perhaps, for the first time since they had been bestowed upon her,
unobserved or disregarded.
Chapter 8
But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloisters pale.
And love the high-embowed roof
With antic pillars massy proof
And storied windows richly dight.
Casting a dim religtious light.
--MILTON
The Conte
Della Croisse, when admitted into the convent, after a formal introduction by
the Abbot, was left alone with the Superior, who received him with that stately
kind or politeness which is usually attached to the station she filled. As soon
as he was seated, he began to open the occasion of his visit, and fixing his
eyes upon her as he continued the subject, with the minute attention of a
physiognomist, he perceived that her countenance relaxed with no symptom of
pleasure when he mentioned the necessity of Madame Chamont's quitting her
retirement immediately, to assert the legality of her claims, should any new
difficulties arise to render her presence indispensable. Having entered into a
full explanation of the subject as far as the nature of the case required,
preserving at the same time a scrupulous reserve as to those events in which she
was entirely uninterested, he requested an audience with his fair benefactress,
and politely demanded her dismission, since he had already proved that all
proceedings against her had been hitherto illegal. As soon as the Abbess had
recovered from her surprise, she endeavoured to convince the Conte of the
impossibility of yielding to his desires unless the intricacies of the affair
could be unravelled, since she had nothing to depend upon but the bare
assertion of a stranger, which she considered as insufficient to prove the
justice of his claim. From the intelligence which the Conte had received from
Paoli in his dying moments, he knew that a considerable sum had been paid into
the hands of the Abbess on Madame Chamont's entrance into the convent, which accounted
in some measure for the many insurmountable obstacles which were thrown in the
way of her departure.
Being
perfectly aware of this, he took the most effectual method of silencing her
scruples, by convincing her that the sum, which was consigned to her care for
the benefit of the sisterhood, would never be recalled; not forgetting to
assure her, upon his honour, that he would himself indemnify her from any loss
she might sustain; and, moreover; would venture to affirm, that if she would
assist in forwarding their design, Madame Chamont, when reinstated in her
rights, would richly compensate her for every proof of kindness and attachment
she had discovered, since she was unequalled in generosity as well as every
other mental perfection.
The
Conte's arguments had the desired effect; and as the Abbess listened with
complacency to these eventual advantages, she became gradually reconciled to
the person by whom they were offered; yet, to enhance the value of the
obligation, and also to persuade her new guest that she was not actuated by
mercenary considerations, she thought proper to propose a few more objections,
which being delivered with less energy than the former ones, were easily
removed by the Conte, who anxiously availed himself of every turn in his favour.
After much
courtesy of address on the part of Della Croisse, aided by a little well-timed
flattery, agreeably and delicately administered, which the Abbess was too young
to receive with displeasure, the requested interview was granted; and the noble
Conte, whose generous heart overflowed with the most lively effusions of
gratitude, was permitted to prepare Madame Chamont for that scene of delight
she was shortly to experience, and afterwards to contemplate the effect of joy,
the most exquisite in the completion of newly arisen hopes, when she clasped
her long-lost son to her maternal bosom! Such scenes of ecstatic bliss cannot
he justly delineated by the feeble hand that attempts to sketch them; nor can
the mind, which has not been disciplined in the harsh school of adversity, form
an adequate conception of them. A sudden alteration in the manners of the
Abbess, after Madame Chamont's introduction to Enrico and Laurette, was evident
to all. The apprehensions which her avarice had excited being lulled to repose,
there was room for the exercise of those sympathetic virtues which Nature had
implanted in her mind; and now that her interest was no longer at war with her
inclination, she did not arm herself against their influence. Anxious to remove
any little prejudices which she considered might yet lurk in the mind of the
Conte, she paid the most marked attention to her guests, giving Laurette an
invitation with more than ordinary kindness to remain in the convent till all
preliminaries were settled relative to their departure, not omitting to repeat
her permission for Madame Chamont to resign her protection when the nature of
her concerns rendered it necessary.
The Conte
and Enrico now began to form plans as to the best method of proceeding; and,
after a second investigation of the subject, determined to leave the ladies at
the convent, whilst they went in search of the priest by whom the marriage was
solemnized, who they learned upon inquiry had left his residence in Turin, and
had entered into an order of Franciscans not many leagues from Saltzburg. This
was a circumstance much in their favour, as it prevented them from traversing a
number of barren mountains and rocky precipices, which would have considerably
impeded their progress. To prove the truth of Paoli's assertion, without taking
this Friar as an evidence, whose testimony would alone be sufficient for the
execution of their purpose, would, they knew, be impossible, even should they
find the Marehese more favourably disposed towards them than, from his former
conduct, they had reason to expect. To allow Madame Chamont and Laurette to
attend them on such an expedition, unless the Marchese should intimate a desire
to see them, would, they also considered, be highly imprudent, since their
reception might be far from a pleasant one; though, by alarming the fears of
the Marchese, it appeared probable, since he was now entirely at their mercy,
that he would be glad to embrace any terms of reconciliation that would be
offered him, rather than suffer his crimes to be exposed.
As soon as
they had informed the ladies of their newly-concerted plan, they recommended
them to the matronly protection of the Superior; and, attended by Anselmo and
two of the servants belonging to the Conte della Croisse, commenced their
journey.
As soon as
Laurette was alone with Madame Chamont, she related every interesting event
that had befallen her since she last parted from her; and requested, in return,
that she would acquaint her with every thing that had happened to her since she
had been forced from the castle, as this had long been a subject of painful
surmise.
'You are
already informed, my dear child,' replied the amiable Madame Chamont, 'of the
principal incidents of my eventful story: and what I have to relate will, therefore,
appear but like a repetition of what has before been recited; yet, as you
desire it, I will indulge you with pleasure.
'You may
possibly remember that, on the evening of my departure, Paoli proposed, as soon
as vespers were concluded, that I should accompany him along the decayed side
of the edifice, that he might consult me respecting the repairs; and you may
probably recollect that I acceded rather reluctantly to the proposition, though
at that time I was incapable of ascertaining his intention, which was, after
conducting me to a remote part of the structure, to deliver me into the hands
of three ruffians, who, having covered me with a veil so thick as to exclude
every object from my view, placed me upon a mule, and conveyed me, regardless
of my cries, through the deepest recesses of the woods, when, having arrived at
a small inn, situated at the extremity of the forest, we stopped without
alighting for refreslnnent. As soon as we had reached this place, one of the
men, whose aspect indicated him less ferocious than the rest, assured me that I
had nothing to fear, and promised, that if I would follow striefly the rules he
should prescribe, that he would engage to conduct me to some place of security.
This kindness, in a man of his profession, filled me with astonishment; and
though I could scarcely believe him sincere, I ventured to assure him of my
acquiescence.
'"You
have then nothing to do," resumed the ruffian, "but to remain silent.
Any attempt to liberate yourself by your own exertion, or any endeavour to
interest the compassion of others, whom we may accidentally meet with in our
way, will render my scheme for your preservation abortive. Appear resigned to
whatever may be your destiny, and leave the rest to me."
'His
companions, who had remained a few moments behind to finish their refreshment,
now approached towards us, preventing by their presence all further
communication; but being somewhat re-assured by these promises, my spirits
gradually revived; and mindful of the injunctions I had received, I preserved
an uniform silence. We travelled all the next day and the following one without
obtaining any rest, till, from fatigue and indisposition, I could scarcely
proceed. My companions frequently stopped upon the road to procure some food,
of which they always ofiered me a part; but never ventured to alight, probably
having some material reason for this precaution.
'It was
not till near midnight that, after two days' harassing journey, we arrived at
the place of destination, which was an ancient dreary habitation secreted in a
wood. The impenetrable veil that was thrown over my face did not allow me to
distinguish the road; but I was no sooner sat down that it was removed, and I
found myself in a large grass-grown court, with three ill-looking men, whose
persons I had only partially seen.
'Scarcely
had I obtained leisure to reflect upon my situation before a loud hallo, given
by one of my companions, brought to the door of this melancholy abode a being,
whose appearance had more in it of savage ferocity than was expressed in the
countenance of my conductors. Terror and consternation now almost overcame me,
and so weakened was I for want of sustenance and rest, that, had I not leaned
against the trunk of a tree, I must have fallen.
"You
have no farther to go at present," cried one of the men roughly, "but
if you will follow your host into the hall, he will give you some supper; for
since you have eat so little upon the road, you must doubtless be in want of
refreshment."
'Finding
there was no alternative, I obeyed; and the men, having fastened their mules to
a tree, entered the room into which my conductor had directed me. Obliged to
submit to the necessity of mixing with this horrid group, I endeavoured to
reconcile myself to my lot; but no soonerr had I partaken of a small portion of
the bread and milk, which was prepared by our host, than the indelicate jokes,
that were occasionally mingled with their loud peals of laughter, determined me
to abandon their society; and addressing myself to the person of the house,
whose name was Maschero, I desired to be directed to my apartment.'
'Holy
Maria!' exclaimed Laurette, in a tone of astonishment, was you then at the
Jansmer Holtz, the abode of the assassin? Could it be the intention of the
Marchese that you also should be sacrificed? If so, tell me briefly, I beseech
you, how your escape was effected.'
'From what
has since happened,' continued Madame Chamont, 'I have no reason to suppose
that the Marchese had any design upon my life; but not to keep you longer in
suspense. I will hasten to the conclusion of my mournful narrative.
'I was
then shewn into a large dreary-looking room, whose appearance was sufficient to
impress terror upon a mind not already occupied by this dreadful sensation; but
what more than any thing alarmed my fears was the certainty of not having any
means of fastening the door. My conductor did not forget, however, to secure
it, with the assistance of a bolt, on the other side. 'As soon as I was alone,
a thousand melancholy conjectures passed along my mind; and unable to compose
myself to sleep, I paced the room for some time in silent agony, frequently
starting as the old boards shook beneath my feet; and imagining I heard other
steps beside my own, and saw grim and ghastly figures gliding into remote
corners. These apprehensions were augmented by other noises, for which I could
not immediately account, but which struck me with more terror and dismay than I
am able to express. Deep groans were apparently uttered from an upper
apartment, and screams, which I was assured did not proceed from the nocturnal
revellers, whose voices, which I could yet sometimes distinguish, broke upon
the stillness that pervaded the room: I did not, however, long suffer these
imaginary terrors, which were not less appalling than my real ones, being soon
convinced that the sounds I had heard were occasioned by a considerable number
of owls that inhabited the ruinous part of the building.
'I had not
suffered more than an hour the forlornness of my situation before the man,
whose unexpected compassion had awakened my gratitude, entered the apartment. I
trembled as he approached; but my fears were gradually dispersed when he
assured me, that if I would bestow upon him and his associates all the money
and valuables I had about me, they would not leave me to perish as was their
original design, but would convey me to a convent not far from the wood, where
I might easily obtain admission.
'"You
were then employed for the basest of purposes," cried I, astonished at his
having made this avowal; "and you have agreed, no doubt, for some
considerable reward to take away my life, which, if not more than ordinarily
useful, has at least been innocent. Can you, after such an acknowledgment, hope
to obtain mercy?"
"The
proposal I have made," interrupted the ruffian, "is at least
merciful; and if you refuse to accede to it, you are no longer an object of
compassion. But I have no leisure to parley, therefore be swift. What is that
gem upon your finger?" resumed the ruffian; "take it off, and let me
examine it."
'It was a
ruby presented to me by my mother of considerable value, and unable to bear the
idea of parting with this little sacred memento, I refused to yield to his
wishes; at the same time delivering my purse, which contained no inconsiderable
sum. He counted the ducats with a look of sullen dissatisfaction, and then
demanded, in a stern voice, if I was determined not to relinquish the jewel.
Afraid of irritating him by repeating my resolution, I endeavoured to interest
his pity, by informing him that it was the gift of my last surviving parent,
from whom I had been long separated, and as; such was invaluable.
"If
it is more precious to you than your life," replied the ruffian,
maliciously, "you may assuredly keep it; you are certainly at liberty
either to accept the couditions, or to reject them."
'Finding
that nothing less than the ruby would bind him to my interest, since the sum in
the purse was insufficient for the gratification of his avarice, I was
compelled to yield to his threats, though not without shedding many tears at
the sad necessity which obliged me to part with it. 'The light of the morning
now dawned dimly through the grate of my prison, and soon afterwards I had the
satisfaction of quitting my gloomy abode to pursue my journey. Melancholy as
was the prospect before me, it was less dreary than on the preceding night, and
a small portion of that hope, which never totally abandons us, returned with
all its cheering accompaniments to my heart. When I arrived at the convent, the
Abbess left her room to receive me; but what was my astonishment when I
discovered from her conversation that I was an expected guest. It was now easy
to investigate the truth even through the obscurity which veiled it. The men
were employed by the Marchese, or rather by Paoli, in obedience to the commands
of his Lord, to convey me by stratagem into this religious asylum; and the
wretches, selected by the steward for the purpose, taking advantage of my fears
and ignorance of their in-tentions contrived to rob me of the little property I
possessed.
'Scarcely
was I settled in my new habitahon, when the arrival of Paoli was announced, who
came to makesome arrangements respecting my board. He was closeted for some
hours with the Superior; but the result of this conversation was kept a
profound secret.
'As soon,
as he was gone I discovered, from the behaviour of the Abbess, that she had
been induced, through the insinuations of the steward, to form an unfavourable
opinion or me, as she never addressed me with that maternal affection which
characterized her deportment towards the rest of the sisters; arid when her
eyes accidentally met mine, I observed they were usually turned from me with an
expression of contempt, and sometimes of horror, that penetrated my heart. That
Paoli had uttered much to my disadvantage, to excuse the infamy of his
proceedings, was evident; but of what nature were the aspersions he had thrown
upon my reputation, was not easy to be discovered. Often did I half resolve to
lay the ease before the Abbess, as well to excite her compassion with a relation
of my misfortunes, as to absolve me from the crimes imputed to me by my
enemies. But an irresistible impulse withheld me for a time from putting this
fluctuating design into practice; and another unexpected event relieved me from
the indispensibility of again adopting a plan, which, from the probability of
being accused of adding dissimulation to treachery, wore rather all unpromising
aspect.
'One day,
as I was sitting alone in my cell, a message was delivered to me by one of the
novices, desiring my attendance at the grate. The surprise this incident
excited almost overwhelmed me; hope had so long sunk beneath the horizon of my
prospects, that I believed it impossible the morning of joy could ever more
dawn upon them; a faint sickness was communicated to my heart, and it was with
difficulty that I was enabled, even with the assistance of a Nun, to reach the
appointed place. It was late in the evening when I was summoned to the grate;
but the dusky hue of the twilight did not prevent me from distinguishing that
the person in waiting was Pali. His figure was too strongly impressed upon my
mind to allow me to mistake it; arid knowing that a tongue like his could
convey no welcome intelligence, I surveyed him for a moment with a look of
silent abhorrence, but without uttering a word, till at length disengaging
something from his cloak, which I soon discovered to be a letter, "I am
come," cried he, with a malicious smile, "to bring you news of your
son; this paper will inform you of the whole"--I took it with a trembling
hand, and desiring the Nun, who accompanied me, to elevate her lamp, opened it
in haste. The first words which met my eye were these:--
'Our son,
having been called into actual service, has lately died in consequence of a
wound received at the battle of Prague; and your adopted daughter, in obedience
to the will of the Marchese de Montferrat, her guardian and lawful protector,
is contracted to a young Venetian nobleman. Any future inquiry after these
persons will therefore be useless."--The paper now dropped from my hand, a
dimness came before my eyes, and I fell lifeless on the pavement. The cries of
the Nun who attended me, brought others to my assistance; and on recovering I
found myself on a bed in one of those apartments which are allotted to the
Superior, with two of the sisters, who were seated by my side. One of these I
soon perceived was sister Agnes, the Nun who was professed the day of your
arrival, and the only one to whom I had singularly attached myself.
'It was
long before my health was re-established, and probably it would have been still
longer, had not the Abbess, who soon learned the cause of my sorrow, assisted,
with the utmost kindness and attention, in the recomposing of my spirits.
During the first three months of my captivity, the use of pens, paper, and
every other implement of writing, was denied me; and so strictly was I guarded,
that had I been inclined to attempt an escape, I should have found it
impracticable. But after this melancholy event I was treated with more gentleness
than before; and not feeling any desire to be delivered from confinement, since
every earthly tie was dissolved, I endeavoured to conciliate the esteem of my
associates; and being entirely disengaged from all worldly concerns, resolved
to dedicate the rest of my days to the exercises of religion.'--
Here
Madame Chamont concluded her recital; and scarcely had Laurette expressed her
sense of the obligation, before the Lady of the convent entered the room. The
conversation now turned upon more general subjects till the bell rang for
dinner; when the party, retiring from the Abbess's parlour, joined the Nuns,
who were assembled in the refectoire.
The rest
of the day was passed by our heroine and her earliest friend in a state of
tender thoughtfulness. The absence of Enrico and the Conte, as well as the
motive of it, now the raptures of the meeting were over, threw a soft shade
upon the spirits of Madame Chamont. The interview, which was shortly to take
place between them and the Marchese, had something in it peculiarly touching.
Her son was gone to claim him as a father; her spotless reputation was shortly
to be cleared from those cruel aspersions with which it had been tainted, and
how these important matters were to be conducted was a subject for continual
reflection. Laurette did not consider it so deeply; happiness was alone
presented to her in the visions of her fancy; the Marchese, she believed, would
not only confess, but repent of his crimes. What he had meditated against her
was already forgotten; and unsuspicious of the murder of her father, she knew
of little else that could be laid to his charge. To walk together through the
cloister in the ealin hour of twilight; to wander among the massy pillars which
supported its arched roof; to mark the holy devices upon the dim gothic
windows, was a charm the most congenial to their feelings; and often did Madame
Chamont and Laurette steal away unobserved to enjoy that melancholy kind of
pleasure, which scenes of this kind never fail to excite in devout and
susceptible minds. With what pious sensations did they pace the burial-ground
of the convent, divided only from that appropriated to the Monks by a
terrace-walk bordered with cypresses! How many of the sisters, who, after
having lingered out a life of solitude and penitence in that religious
retirement, were now, they considered, numbered with the dead! The second
evening after the departure of the Conte and Enrico, the chapel-door being left
open after the evening prayers, they went, attended by two of the sisters, to
see an ancient stately monument, which was erected to the memory of the
convent's Foundress, who from her exemplary conduct was reputed a Saint. It was
composed of black marble, and was situated on that side of the chapel which was
nearest the altar. It was almost encompassed with some others, which had since
been creeted to the memory of several of the former Abbesses, which, though
less splendid, were also ornamented with a number of religious devices.
The
privilege of being interred in the chapel was only granted to the Superiors,
the Nuns, whatever might be their rank, being always buried without. Laurette
could not forbear heaving a profound sigh when she reflected upon the vanity of
human distinctions and as she returned slowly towards the cloister, she
frequently turned to survey the simple graves of the Nuns, which were covered
with high grass, and bordered with evergreens; it being one of the rules of the
institution that, after the profession of a vestal (an event which had recently
taken place) for the novices to replace the flowers and shrubs used in the
ceremony in the same baskets in which they were originally gathered, and then
to leave them at the foot of the altar till the vigil is at an end: as soon as
the festivities are over, the train of Nuns proceed from the convent to the
burial-ground, and being met at the chapel-door by the novices bearing the
baskets, strew them upon the graves of their departed friends, chaunting at the
same time a requiem for the repose of their souls. This being concluded, the
vesper service is performed; after which the sisters are allowed either to
return to their cells, or to remain in the gardens till the tolling of the
second bell.
To be continued
