FLORA FRANCATELLI--THE THREE NUNS--THE CHAIR.
Nisida regained her apartment, by the private staircase, without any
molestation. Having laid aside her male attire, she assumed a loose
wrapper, and then, throwing herself into an armchair, gave way to her
reflections.
These were apparently of no pleasurable nature; for they were frequently
interrupted by convulsive starts and rapid glancings around the room--as
if she were fearful lest some terrible specter were present to scare
her.
Once or twice her eyes lingered on her mother's portrait; and then
profound sighs escaped her bosom.
Presently the beautiful Flora Francatelli entered the apartment; but
Nisida made her a sign of dismissal.
The maiden withdrew; and we must now follow her to her own chamber.
On reaching her bedroom, Flora did not immediately retire to rest. She
felt that she should not sleep, even were she to seek her pillow: for
she had much--very much to ponder upon!
There was a marked, undisguised reserve about her mistress which
materially affected her. Although she could not control her affections,
yet she felt as if she were acting with duplicity toward the Lady Nisida
in having listened to the love-tale of Francisco, and, retaining that
revelation of his affection a secret in her own breast.
Yet--had he not implored, had he not enjoined her to keep that avowal to
herself? Yes, and when she looked at the matter, as it were, face to
face, she could not justly reproach herself:--nevertheless, that secret
love weighed upon her conscience like a crime!
She could not understand wherefore Nisida's manner had changed toward
her. Francisco had assuredly made no communication to his sister; and
nothing had transpired to excite a suspicion of the real truth in her
mind. Still there _was_ a coolness on the part of that lady:--or might
it not be that Flora's imagination deceived her?
There was another, and even a more serious cause of grief weighing upon
her mind. Dispatches had been received from the nobleman in whose suit
her brother Alessandro had repaired to Constantinople; and the secretary
of the council of Florence had intimated to Signora Francatelli (Flora's
aunt) that Alessandro had abjured the faith of his forefathers and had
embraced the Mussulman creed. It was also stated that the young man had
entered the service of grand vizier; but whether he had become a
renegade through love for some Turkish maiden, or with the hope of
ameliorating his condition in a worldly point of view, whether, indeed,
self-interest or a conscientious belief in the superiority of the Moslem
doctrines over those of Christianity, had swayed Alessandro, no one
could say.
His aunt was almost heart-broken at the news. Father Marco, through
whose influence he had obtained the post of secretary to the Florentine
Envoy, was shocked and grieved; and Flora was not the less afflicted at
an event which, as she had been taught to believe, must inevitably place
her much-loved brother beyond the hope of spiritual salvation.
Amidst the gloomy reflections excited by the Lady Nisida's coolness, and
the disagreeable tidings which had been received concerning her brother,
there was nevertheless one gleam of consolation for Flora Francatelli.
This was the love which Francisco entertained for her, and which she so
tenderly, so sincerely reciprocated.
Yes, a maiden's first love is ever a source of solace amidst the gloom
of affliction; because it is so intimately intertwined with hope! For
the soul of the innocent, artless girl who fondly loves, soars aloft in
a heaven of her own creation, dove-like on the wings of faith!
It was already late when Flora began to unbraid and set at liberty her
dark brown tresses, preparatory to retiring to rest, when a low knock at
the chamber-door startled her in the midst of her occupation.
Thinking it might be the Lady Nisida who required her attendance she
hastened to open the door; and immediately three women, dressed in
religious habits and having black veils thrown over their heads so as
completely to conceal their faces, entered the room.
Flora uttered a faint scream--for the sudden apparition of those
specter-like figures, at such a late hour of the night, was well
calculated to alarm even a person of maturer age and stronger mind than
Signora Francatelli.
"You must accompany us, young lady," said the foremost nun, advancing
toward her. "And beware how you create any disturbance--for it will
avail you nothing."
"Whither am I to be conducted?" asked Flora, trembling from head to
foot.
"That we cannot inform you," was the reply. "Neither must you know at
present; and therefore our first duty is to blindfold you."
"Pity me--have mercy upon me!" exclaimed Flora, throwing herself on her
knees before the nun who addressed her in so harsh, so stern a manner.
"I am a poor, unprotected girl: have mercy upon me!"
But the three nuns seized upon her; and while one held the palm of her
hand forcibly over her mouth so as to check her utterance, the others
hastily blindfolded her.
Flora was so overcome by this alarming proceeding, that she fainted.
When she came to her senses, she found herself lying on a hard and sorry
couch in a large apartment, almost entirely denuded of furniture and
lighted by a feebly-burning lamp suspended to the low ceiling.
For a moment she thought she was laboring under the influence of a
hideous dream; but, glancing around, she started with affright, and a
scream burst from her lips, when she beheld the three nuns standing by
the bed.
"Why have you brought me hither?" she demanded, springing from the
couch, and addressing the recluses with frantic wildness.
"To benefit you in a spiritual sense," replied the one who had before
acted as spokeswoman: "to purge your mind of those mundane vanities
which have seized upon it, and to render you worthy of salvation. Pray,
sisters--pray for this at present benighted creature!"
Then, to the surprise of the young maiden, the three nuns all fell upon
their knees around her, and began to chant a solemn hymn in most
lugubrious notes.
They had thrown aside their veils, and the flickering light of the dim
lamp gave a ghastly and unearthly appearance to their pale and severe
countenances. They were all three elderly persons: and their aspect was
of that cold, forbidding nature, which precludes hope on the part of any
one who might have to implore mercy.
The young maiden was astounded--stupefied--she knew not what to
conjecture. Where was she? who were those nuns that had treated her so
harshly? why was she brought to that cold, cheerless apartment? what
meant the hymn that seemed chanted expressly on her account?
She could not bear up against the bewilderment and alarm produced by
these questions which she asked herself, and none of which she could
solve. An oppressive sensation came over her; and she was about to sink
back upon the couch from which she had risen, when the hymn suddenly
ceased--the nuns rose from their suppliant posture--and the foremost,
addressing the poor girl in a reproachful tone, exclaimed, "Oh!
wicked--worldly-minded creature, repent--repent--repent!"
There was something so awful--so appalling--in this strange conduct on
the part of the nuns, that Flora began to doubt whether she were not
laboring under some terrible delusion. She feared lest her senses were
leaving her: and, covering her face with her hands, so as to close her
eyes against external objects, she endeavored to look inward, as it
were, and scrutinize her own soul.
But she was not allowed time to reflect; for the three nuns seized upon
her, the foremost saying, "You must come with us!"
"Mercy! mercy!" screamed the wretched girl, vainly struggling in the
powerful grasp of the recluses.
Her long hair, which she had unbraided before she was carried off from
the Riverola mansion, floated over her shoulders, and enhanced the
expression of ineffable despair which her pallid countenance now wore.
Wildly she glanced around, as she was being hurried from the room; and
frantic screams escaped her lips. But there was no one nigh to
succor--no one to melt at the outbursts of her anguish!
The three nuns dragged, rather than conducted her to an adjacent
apartment, which was lighted by a lamp of astonishing brilliancy, and
hung in a skylight raised above the roof.
On the floor, immediately beneath this lamp, stood an armchair of
wicker-work; and from this chair two stout cords ascended to the
ceiling, through which they passed by means of two holes perforated for
the purpose.
When Flora was dragged by the nuns to the immediate vicinity of the
chair, which her excited imagination instantly converted into an engine
of torture, that part of the floor on which the chair stood seemed to
tremble and oscillate beneath her feet, as if it were a trap-door.
The most dreadful sensations now came over her: she felt as if her brain
was reeling--as if she must go mad.
A fearful scream burst from her lips, and she struggled with the energy
of desperation, as the nuns endeavored to thrust her into the chair.
"No--no!" she exclaimed, frantically; "you shall not torture me--you
dare not murder me! What have I done to merit this treatment! Mercy!
mercy!"
But her cries and her struggles were alike useless; for she was now
firmly bound to the chair, into which the nuns had forced her to seat
herself.
Then commenced the maddening scene which will be found in the ensuing
chapter.