THE NOVICE.
We left Doña Maria in the garden of the convent, preparing to obey
the summons of the venerable abbess, Doña Madeline Aguirre Frías, in
religion, Sister Santa Marta de los Dolores, the Mother Superior of the
community, not doubting but that she was summoned to give a detailed
account of the morning's events. Doña Maria expected to receive some
reproof for the involuntary fault she had committed by letting her face
be seen by the cavalier who raised her when in a fainting state.
But, in her present state of mind, far from upbraiding herself for not
having quickly lowered her veil so soon as she regained possession of
her senses, she was quite prepared to confess the impression which the
sight of the young man had produced on her, and the present she had
made him of her scapulary, for she had only one thought, one desire,
one wish, and that was, to see again the man whom she loved.
Still, in consequence of the remonstrances which her companion,
Rosita, made to her, and in order not to give anybody the opportunity
of reading in her eyes what was passing in her soul, she removed all
traces of her tears, overcame the feeling of sorrow which had invaded
her whole being, and proceeded with a firm step toward the cell of the
Mother Superior, while Rosita regained her own.
We have described the interior of the cells of the nuns or novices
dwelling in the convent of the Purísima Concepción, which, with but
rare exceptions, are all alike, but that of the Mother Superior
deserves a special description, owing to the difference that exists
between it and those of the other nuns. Nothing could be more
religious, more worldly, and more luxurious than its whole appearance.
It was an immense square room, with two large pointed windows, with
small panes set in lead, on which were painted holy subjects with
an admirable delicacy and surety of touch. The walls were covered
with long gilt and embossed Cordovan leather tapestry; and valuable
pictures, representing the chief events in the life of the patron saint
of the convent, were grouped with that symmetry and taste which are
only found among ecclesiastics.
Between the two windows was a magnificent Virgin by Raphael, before
which was an altar; a silver lamp, full of odoriferous oil, hung from
the ceiling and burnt night and day in front of the altar, which could
be concealed by thick damask curtains when required. The furniture
consisted of a large Chinese screen, behind which was concealed the
abbess's bed, a simple couch of carved oak, surrounded by a mosquito
net of white gauze. A square table, also in oak, supporting a few books
and a desk, was in the centre of the room; and in one corner a large
library filled with books relating to religious matters, allowed the
rich gilding of scarce tomes to be seen through the glass doors. A few
chairs with twisted legs were arranged against the wall. Lastly, a
brasero of brilliant brass, filled with olive kernels, faced a superb
press, whose fine carving was a work of art.
The sunshine, subdued by the coloured glass of the windows, spread a
soft and mystical light, which made the visitor undergo a feeling of
respect and contemplation, by giving this large room a stern and almost
lugubrious aspect.
At the moment when the maiden was introduced to the abbess, the latter
was seated in a large, straight-backed chair, surmounted by the
abbatial crown, and whose seat, covered with gilt leather, was adorned
with a double fringe of gold and silk. She held an open book in her
hand and seemed plunged in profound meditation. Doña Maria waited till
the abbess raised her eyes to her.
"Ah, you are here, my child," the abbess at length said, on perceiving
the presence of the novice. "Come hither."
Maria advanced towards her.
"You were nearly the victim of an accident which cast trouble and
confusion upon the progress of the procession, and it is slightly your
own fault; you ought to have got out of the way of the horse as your
dear sister did; but, after all, though the fear exposed your life to
danger, I see with satisfaction that you have, thanks to the omnipotent
protection of Nuestra Señora de la Purísima Concepción, escaped from
the peril, and hence I order you to thank her by reciting an orison
morning and night for eight days."
"I will do so, buena Madre," Maria replied.
"And now, chica, in order to efface every trace of the emotion which
the event must have caused you, I recommend you to drink a few
spoonfuls of my miraculous water; it is, as you are aware, a sovereign
remedy against every sort of attack. Worthy Don Francisco Solano,
the reverend Pater-Guardian of los Carmelitos Descalzos, gave me the
receipt for it, and on many occasions we have recognised the truly
surprising qualities of this water."
"I will not fail to do so," the young lady replied, with the firm
intention of doing nothing of the sort, as she knew the perfect
inefficiency of the good lady's panacea.
"Good! You must take care of your health, Maria, for you know that my
great object is to watch over the welfare of all our sisters, and to
render their abode in this peaceful retreat in which we live in the
peace of the Lord, full of attractions and sweetness."
Maria looked at the abbess; she had expected some sort of reprimand,
and the honeyed words of the worthy Mother Superior had a tinge of
benignity which was not habitual to them. Emboldened by the abbess's
kind manner, Maria felt a great desire to tell her of the deep aversion
she felt for a monastic life, but fearing lest she might be mistaken
as to the purport of the words which fell from the unctuous lips of
the holy person, she awaited the end of her discourse, and contented
herself with saying, with all the appearance of a submission full of
humility--
"I know, buena Madre, how great your anxiety is for all of us; but I do
not yet merit such kindness, and--"
"It is true that you are but a novice, and the solemn vows have not
eternally consecrated you to the pious destination which Heaven has
reserved for you, but the blessed day is approaching, and soon--"
"Madre!" Maria impetuously interrupted, about to speak and display
the wound in her heart which was painfully bleeding at the thought of
taking the veil.
"What is the matter, my child? you are impatient. I understand the
lively desire which animates you, and am delighted at it, for it would
be painful for me to employ with you, whom I love so dearly, any other
means than those of persuasion to oblige you to take the gown which is
destined for you."
On hearing the abbess speak thus, Maria understood that her fate was
settled, and that no supplication would produce any change in what
was resolved. Moreover, the air of hypocritical satisfaction spread
over the face of the Mother Superior sufficiently proved that the
conversation which she had begun had no other object than to adroitly
sound the young lady as to her feelings about taking the veil, and
that, if necessary, she would employ her right and power to force her
into submission.--
Maria, consequently, bowed her head and made no reply. Either the
abbess took this silence for a sign of obedience, or regarded it as a
manifestation of utter indifference, for a faint smile played round her
lips, and she continued the conversation.
"While congratulating you on the good sentiments which have taken
root in your mind, it is my duty to inform you of the orders which I
received this morning from your father, General Soto-Mayor."
Maria raised her head, trying to read in the abbess's looks what these
orders might signify.
"You are not ignorant, chica, that the rule of our convent grants
novices who are preparing to take the veil, permission to spend a month
with their family before beginning the retreat which must precede the
ceremony of their vows."
Here Maria, who was anxiously listening, felt her heart beat as if it
would burst her bosom. The abbess continued--
"In obedience to this custom, your father, before affiancing you to
God, informed me this morning that he wished to have you near him, and
employ the month which you will spend out of the convent in taking you
to Valdivia to see his brother, that worthy servant of the Lord, Don
Luis."
A cry of joy, restrained by the fear of letting what was taking place
in her mind be seen, was on the point of bursting from her bosom.
"Dear father!" she said, clasping her hands.
"You will set out tomorrow," the abbess continued; "a servant of your
family will come to fetch you in the morning."
"Oh, thanks, madam," Maria could not refrain from exclaiming, as she
was intoxicated with joy at the thought of leaving the convent.
Assuredly, under any other circumstances, the announcement of this
holiday would have been received by the maiden, if not with coldness,
at the least with indifference; but her meeting with Leon had so
changed her ideas, that she fancied she saw in this departure a means
which Providence gave her to escape from a cloistered life. The poor
child fancied that her parents were thinking of restoring her to the
world; then, reflecting on the slight probability which this hypothesis
seemed to possess, she said to herself that, at any rate, she might see
again within the month _him_ whose memory excited so great an influence
over her mind. There was still hope for her, and hope is nearly
happiness. The abbess had not failed to notice the look of pleasure
which had suddenly illumined the maiden's features.
"You are very happy, then, at the thought of leaving us, Maria," she
said, with an attempt at a smile.
"Oh, do not think that, Mamita," Maria said, as she threw herself on
her neck. "You are so kind and so indulgent that I should be ungrateful
did I not love you."
At this moment the maiden's heart, inundated with delight, overflowed
with love. The aversion which she had felt an hour previously for all
that surrounded her had faded away and made room for a warm expression
of joy. A sunbeam on high had sufficed to dissipate the dark cloud
which had formed on the blue sky.
In spite of the lively desire which Maria had to bear the good news
to Rosita, she was obliged to listen to the perusal of General
Soto-Mayor's letter, which the abbess gave her, as well as a long
exhortation which the latter thought it her duty to address to her
about the conduct she should assume when she found herself in the bosom
of her family. Nothing was forgotten, neither the recommendation to
perform her religious vows exactly, nor that of preparing to return to
the convent worthily at the close of the month, animated with the pious
desire of devoting herself to it joyfully, as the trial of the world
would serve to show her the slight happiness which those forced to live
in it found there. Maria promised all that the superior wished; she
only saw through the pompous phrases of the holy woman the temporary
liberty offered to her, and this sufficed her to listen patiently to
the rest of the peroration. At length the harangue was finished, and
Maria rushed towards Rosita's cell; on seeing her companion with a
radiant brow and a smile on her lip, the latter remained stupefied.
Amid the transports of joy, Maria informed her of the happy event which
had occurred so opportunely to calm her anguish, and embraced her
affectionately.
"How happy you seem!" Rosita could not refrain from saying to her.
"Oh! I really am so. Do you understand, Rosita, a whole month out of
the convent, and who knows whether I may not see during the month the
man who so boldly saved me from peril."
"Can you think of it?"
"Yes; I confess to you that it is my dearest wish to see him again and
tell him that I love him."
"Maria!"
"Forgive me, dear Rosita, for, selfish that I am, I only think of
myself, and forget that you, too, might perhaps like to leave these
convent walls in order to embrace your brother."
"You are mistaken, sister; I am happy here; and though my brother loves
me as much as I love him, he will not call me to his side, for he would
be alone to protect me, and what should I do in the world when he was
compelled to remain with his soldiers? Ah! I have no father or mother!"
"Poor Rosita!"
"Hence," the latter said, gaily, "speak no more of me, but let me
rejoice at finding you smiling after having left you so sad."
The maidens soon after separated, and Maria went to make the necessary
preparations for her departure. On entering her cell, her first care
was to throw herself on her knees before the image of the Virgin and
thank her. Then the rest of the day passed as usual. But anyone who
had seen the novice before her interview with the Mother Superior, and
met her after the latter had made the general's letter known to her,
would have noticed a singular change in her. A lovely flush had driven
the pallor from her lips, her eyes had regained their expression of
vivacity, and her lips, red as the pomegranate flower, parted to let
her heaving breath pass through.
The morrow Maria was up at daybreak, still under the impression of the
sweet dreams which had lulled her slumbers. The whole night Leon's
image had been before her, flashing in her ravished eye the dazzling
prism of a new existence. It was striking ten by the convent clock when
General Soto-Mayor's major-domo presented himself at the door of the
house of God.