MOTHER SAINTE-PERPETUE.
St. Mary's Convent, whither the daughters of Marshal Simon had been
conveyed, was a large old building, the vast garden of which was on the
Boulevard de l'Hopital, one of the most retired places in Paris,
particularly at this period. The following scenes took place on the 12th
February, the eve of the fatal day, on which the members of the family of
Rennepont, the last descendants of the sister of the Wandering Jew, were
to meet together in the Rue St. Francois. St. Mary's Convent was a model
of perfect regularity. A superior council, composed of influential
ecclesiastics, with Father d'Aigrigny for president, and of women of
great reputed piety, at the head of whom was the Princess de Saint
Dizier, frequently assembled in deliberation, to consult on the means of
extending and strengthening the secret and powerful influence of this
establishment, which had already made remarkable progress.
Skillful combinations and deep foresight had presided at the foundation
of St. Mary's Convent, which, in consequence of numerous donations,
possessed already real estate to a great extent, and was daily augmenting
its acquisitions. The religious community was only a pretext; but, thanks
to an extensive connection, kept up by means of the most decided members
of the ultramontane (i. e. high-church) party, a great number of rich
orphans were placed in the convent, there to receive a solid, austere,
religious education, very preferable, it was said, to the frivolous
instruction which might be had in the fashionable boarding schools,
infected by the corruption of the age. To widows also, and lone women who
happened moreover to be rich, the convent offered a sure asylum from the
dangers and temptations of the world; in this peaceful retreat, they
enjoyed a delightful calm, and secured their salvation, whilst surrounded
by the most tender and affectionate attentions. Nor was this all. Mother
Sainte-Perpetue, the superior of the convent, undertook in the name of
the institution to procure for the faithful, who wished to preserve the
interior of their houses from the depravity of the age, companions for
aged ladies, domestic servants, or needlewomen working by the day, all
selected persons whose morality could be warranted. Nothing would seem
more worthy of sympathy and encouragement than such an institution; but
we shall presently unveil the vast and dangerous network of intrigue
concealed under these charitable and holy appearances. The lady Superior,
Mother Sainte-Perpetue, was a tall woman of about forty years of age,
clad in a stuff dress of the Carmelite tan color, and wearing a long
rosary at her waist; a white cap tied under the chin, and a long black
veil, closely encircled her thin, sallow face. A number of deep wrinkles
had impressed their transverse furrows in her forehead of yellow ivory;
her marked and prominent nose was bent like the beak of a bird of prey;
her black eye was knowing and piercing; the expression of her countenance
was at once intelligent, cold and firm.
In the general management of the pecuniary affairs of the community,
Mother Sainte-Perpetue would have been a match for the most cunning
attorney. When women are possessed of what is called a talent for
business, and apply to it their keen penetration, their indefatigable
perseverance, their prudent dissimulation, and, above all, that quick and
exact insight, which is natural to them, the results are often
prodigious. To Mother Sainte-Perpetue, a woman of the coolest and
strongest intellect, the management of the vast transactions of the
community was mere child's play. No one knew better how to purchase a
depreciated property, to restore it to its former value, and then sell it
with advantage; the price of stock, the rate of exchange, the current
value of the shares in the different companies, were all familiar to her;
she had yet never been known to make bad speculation, when the question
was to invest any of the funds which were given by pious souls for the
purposes of the convent. She had established in the house the utmost
order and discipline, and, above all, an extreme economy. The constant
aim of all her efforts was to enrich, not herself, but the community she
directed; for the spirit of association, when become a collective
egotism, gives to corporations the faults and vices of an individual.
Thus a congregation may dote upon power and money, just as a miser loves
them for their own sake. But it is chiefly with regard to estates that
congregations act like a single man. They dream of landed property; it is
their fixed idea, their fruitful monomania. They pursue it with their
most sincere, and warm, and tender wishes.
The first estate is to a rising little community what the wedding
trousseau is to a young bride, his first horse to a youth, his first
success to a poet, to a gay girl her first fifty-guinea shawl; because,
after all, in this material age, an estate gives a certain rank to a
society on the Religious Exchange, and has so much the more effect upon
the simple-minded, that all these partnerships in the work of salvation,
which end by becoming immensely rich, begin with modest poverty as social
stock-in-trade, and charity towards their neighbors as security reserve
fund. We may therefore imagine what bitter and ardent rivalry must exist
between the different congregations with regard to the various estates
that each can lay claim to; with what ineffable satisfaction the richer
society crushes the poorer beneath its inventory of houses, and farms and
paper securities! Envy and hateful jealousy, rendered still more
irritable by the leisure of a cloistered life, are the necessary
consequences of such a comparison; and yet nothing is less Christian--in
the adorable acceptation of that divine word--nothing has less in common
with the true, essential, and religiously social spirit of the gospel,
than this insatiable ardor to acquire wealth by every possible
means--this dangerous avidity, which is far from being atoned for, in the
eyes of public opinion, by a few paltry alms, bestowed in the narrow
spirit of exclusion and intolerance.
Mother Sainte-Perpetue was seated before a large cylindrical-fronted desk
in the centre of an apartment simply but comfortably furnished. An
excellent fire burned within the marble chimney, and a soft carpet
covered the floor. The superior, to whom all letters addressed to the
sisters or the boarders were every day delivered, had just been opening
she first, according to her acknowledged right, and carefully unsealing
the second, without their knowing it, according to a right that she
ascribed to herself, of course, with a view to the salvation of those
dear creatures; and partly, perhaps, a little to make herself acquainted
with their correspondence, for she also had imposed on herself the duty
of reading all letters that were sent from the convent, before they were
put into the post. The traces of this pious and innocent inquisition were
easily effaced, for the good mother possessed a whole arsenal of steel
tools, some very sharp, to cut the pager imperceptibly round the
seal--others, pretty little rods, to be slightly heated and rolled round
the edge of the seal, when the letter had been read and replaced in its
envelope, so that the wax, spreading as it melted, might cover the first
incision. Moreover, from a praiseworthy feeling of justice and equality,
there was in the arsenal of the good mother a little fumigator of the
most ingenious construction, the damp and dissolving vapor of which was
reserved for the letters humbly and modestly secured with wafers, thus
softened, they yielded to the least efforts, without any tearing of the
paper. According to the importance of the revelations, which she thus
gleaned from the writers of the letters, the superior took notes more or
less extensive. She was interrupted in this investigation by two gentle
taps at the bolted door. Mother Sainte-Perpetue immediately let down the
sliding cylinder of her cabinet, so as to cover the secret arsenal, and
went to open the door with a grave and solemn air. A lay sister came to
announce to her that the Princess de Saint-Dizier was waiting for her in
the parlor, and that Mdlle. Florine, accompanied by a young girl,
deformed and badly dressed, was waiting at the door of the little
corridor.
"Introduce the princess first," said Mother Sainte Perpetue. And, with
charming forethought, she drew an armchair to the fire. Mme. de Saint
Dizier entered.
Without pretensions to juvenile coquetry, still the princess was
tastefully and elegantly dressed. She wore a black velvet bonnet of the
most fashionable make, a large blue cashmere shawl, and a black satin
dress, trimmed with sable, to match the fur of her muff.
"To what good fortune am I again to-day indebted for the honor of your
visit, my dear daughter?" said the superior, graciously.
"A very important recommendation, my dear mother, though I am in a great
hurry. I am expected at the house of his Eminence, and have,
unfortunately, only a few minutes to spare. I have again to speak of the
two orphans who occupied our attention so long yesterday."
"They continue to be kept separate, according to your wish; and this
separation has had such an effect upon them that I have been obliged to
send this morning for Dr. Baleinier, from his asylum. He found much fever
joined to great depression, and, singular enough, absolutely the same
symptoms in both cases. I have again questioned these unfortunate
creatures, and have been quite confounded and terrified to find them
perfect heathens."
"It was, you see, very urgent to place them in your care. But to the
subject of my visit, my dear mother: we have just learned the unexpected
return of the soldier who brought these girls to France, and was thought
to be absent for some days; but he is in Paris, and, notwithstanding his
age, a man of extraordinary boldness, enterprise and energy. Should he
discover that the girls are here (which, however, is fortunately almost
impossible), in his rage at seeing them removed from his impious
influence, he would be capable of anything. Therefore let me entreat you,
my dear mother, to redouble your precautions, that no one may effect an
entrance by night. This quarter of the town is so deserted!"
"Be satisfied, my dear daughter; we are sufficiently guarded. Our porter
and gardeners, all well armed, make a round every night on the side of
the Boulevard de l'Hopital. The walls are high, and furnished with spikes
at the more accessible places. But I thank you, my dear daughter, for
having warned me. We will redouble our precautions."
"Particularly this night, my dear mother."
"Why so?"
"Because if this infernal soldier has the audacity to attempt such a
thing, it will be this very night."
"How do you know, my dear daughter?"
"We have information which makes us certain of it," replied the princess,
with a slight embarrassment, which did not escape the notice of the
Superior, though she was too crafty and reserved to appear to see it;
only she suspected that many things were concealed from her.
"This night, then," resumed Mother Sainte-Perpetue, "we will be more than
ever on our guard. But as I have the pleasure of seeing you, my dear
daughter, I will take the opportunity to say a word or two on the subject
of that marriage we mentioned."
"Yes, my dear mother," said the princess, hastily, "for it is very
important. The young Baron de Brisville is a man full of ardent devotion
in these times of revolutionary impiety; he practises openly, and is able
to render us great services. He is listened to in the Chamber, and does
not want for a sort of aggressive and provoking eloquence; I know not any
one whose tone is more insolent with regard to his faith, and the plan is
a good one, for this cavalier and open manner of speaking of sacred
things raises and excites the curiosity of the indifferent. Circumstances
are happily such that he may show the most audacious violence towards our
enemies, without the least danger to himself, which, of course, redoubles
his ardor as a would-be martyr. In a word, he is altogether ours, and we,
in return, must bring about this marriage. You know, besides, my dear
mother, that he proposes to offer a donation of a hundred thousand francs
to St. Mary's the day he gains possession of the fortune of Mdlle.
Baudricourt."
"I have never doubted the excellent intentions of M. de Brisville with
regard to an institution which merits the sympathy of all pious persons,"
answered the superior, discreetly; "but I did not expect to meet with so
many obstacles on the part of the young lady."
"How is that?"
"This girl, whom I always believed a most simple, submissive, timid,
almost idiotic person--instead of being delighted with this proposal of
marriage, asks time to consider!"
"It is really pitiable!"
"She opposes to me an inert resistance. It is in vain for me to speak
severely, and tell her that, having no parents or friends, and being
absolutely confided to my care, she ought to see with my eyes, hear with
my ears, and when I affirm that this union is suitable in all respects,
give her adhesion to it without delay or reflection."
"No doubt. It would be impossible to speak more sensibly."
"She answers that she wishes to see M. de Brisville, and know his
character before being engaged."
"It is absurd--since you undertake to answer for his morality, and esteem
this a proper marriage."
"Therefore, I remarked to Mdlle. Baudricourt, this morning, that till now
I had only employed gentle persuasion, but that, if she forced me to it,
I should be obliged, in her own interest, to act with rigor, to conquer
so much obstinacy that I should have to separate her from her companions,
and to confine her closely in a cell, until she made up her mind, after
all, to consult her own happiness, and--marry an honorable man."
"And these menaces, my dear mother?"
"Will, I hope, have a good effect. She kept up a correspondence with an
old school-friend in the country. I have put a stop to this, for it
appeared to me dangerous. She is now under my sole influence, and I hope
we shall attain our ends; but you see, my dear daughter, it is never
without crosses and difficulties that we succeed in doing good!"
"And I feel certain that M. de Brisville will even go beyond his first
promise, and I will pledge myself for him, that, should he marry Mdlle.
Baudricourt--"
"You know, my dear daughter," said the superior, interrupting the
princess, "that if I were myself concerned, I would refuse everything;
but to give to this institution is to give to Heaven, and I cannot
prevent M. de Brisville from augmenting the amount of his good works.
Then, you see, we are exposed to a sad disappointment."
"What is that, my dear mother?"
"The Sacred Heart Convent disputes an estate with us that would have
suited us exactly. Really, some people are quite insatiable! I gave the
lady superior my opinion upon it pretty freely."
"She told me as much," answered Madame de Saint-Dizier, "and laid the
blame on the steward."
"Oh! so you see her, my dear daughter?" exclaimed the superior, with an
air of great surprise.
"I met her at the bishop's," answered Madame de Saint-Dizier, with a
slight degree of hesitation, that Mother Sainte-Perpetue did not appear
to notice.
"I really do not know," resumed the latter, "why our establishment should
excite so violently the jealousy of the Sacred Heart. There is not an
evil report that they have not spread with regard to St. Mary's Convent.
Certain persons are always offended by the success of their neighbors!"
"Come, my dear mother," said the princess, in a conciliating tone, "we
must hope that the donation of M. de Brisville will enable you to outbid
the Sacred Heart. This marriage will have a double advantage, you see, my
dear mother; it will place a large fortune at the disposal of a man who
is devoted to us, and who will employ it as we wish; and it will also
greatly increase the importance of his position as our defender, by the
addition to his income of 100,000 francs a year. We shall have at length
an organ worthy of our cause, and shall no longer be obliged to look for
defenders amongst such people as that Dumoulin."
"There is great power and much learning in the writings of the man you
name. It is the style of a Saint Bernard, in wrath at the impiety of the
age."
"Alas, my dear mother! if you only knew what a strange Saint Bernard this
Dumoulin is! But I will not offend your ears; all I can tell you is, that
such defenders would compromise the most sacred cause. Adieu, my dear
mother! pray redouble your precautions to-night--the return of this
soldier is alarming."
"Be quite satisfied, my dear daughter! Oh! I forgot. Mdlle. Florine
begged me to ask you a favor. It is to let her enter your service. You
know the fidelity she displayed in watching your unfortunate niece; I
think that, by rewarding her in this way, you will attach her to you
completely, and I shall feel grateful on her account."
"If you interest yourself the least in the world in Florine, my dear
mother, the thing is done. I will take her into my service. And now it
strikes me, she may be more useful to me than I thought."
"A thousand thanks, my dear daughter, for such obliging attention to my
request. I hope we shall soon meet again. The day after to-morrow, at two
o'clock, we have a long conference with his Eminence and the Bishop; do
not forget!"
"No, my dear mother; I shall take care to be exact. Only, pray, redouble
your precautions to-night for fear of a great scandal!"
After respectfully kissing the hand of the superior, the princess went
out by the great door, which led to an apartment opening on the principal
staircase. Some minutes after, Florine entered the room by another way.
The superior was seated and Florine approached her with timid humility.
"Did you meet the Princess de Saint-Dizier?" asked Mother Sainte
Perpetue.
"No, mother; I was waiting in the passage, where the windows look out on
the garden."
"The princess takes you into her service from to-day," said the superior.
Florine made a movement of sorrowful surprise, and exclaimed: "Me,
mother! but--"
"I asked her in your name, and you have only to accept," answered the
other imperiously.
"But, mother, I had entreated you--"
"I tell you, that you accept the offer," said the superior, in so firm
and positive a tone that Florine cast down her eyes, and replied in a low
voice: "I accept."
"It is in M. Rodin's name that I give you this order."
"I thought so, mother," replied Florine, sadly; "on what conditions am I
to serve the princess?"
"On the same conditions as those on which you served her niece."
Florine shuddered and said: "I am, then, to make frequent secret reports
with regard to the princess?"
"You will observe, you will remember, and you will give an account."
"Yes, my mother."
"You will above all direct your attention to the visits that the princess
may receive from the lady superior of the Sacred Heart. You must try and
listen--for we have to preserve the princess from evil influences."
"I will obey, my mother."
"You will also try and discover why two young orphans have been brought
hither, and recommended to be severely treated, by Madame Grivois, the
confidential waiting-woman of the princess."
"Yes, mother."
"Which must not prevent you from remembering anything else that may be
worthy of remark. To-morrow I will give you particular instructions upon
another subject."
"It is well, mother."
"If you conduct yourself in a satisfactory manner, and execute faithfully
the instructions of which I speak, you will soon leave the princess to
enter the service of a young bride; it will be an excellent and lasting
situation always on the same conditions. It is, therefore, perfectly
understood that you have asked me to recommend you to Madame de Saint
Dizier."
"Yes, mother; I shall remember."
"Who is this deformed young girl that accompanies you?"
"A poor creature without any resources, very intelligent, and with an
education above her class; she works at her needle, but is at present
without employment, and reduced to the last extremity. I have made
inquiries about her this morning; she has an excellent character."
"She is ugly and deformed, you say?"
"She has an interesting countenance, but she is deformed."
The superior appeared pleased at this information, and added, after a
moment's reflection: "She appears intelligent?"
"Very intelligent."
"And is absolutely without resources?"
"Yes, without any."
"Is she pious?"
"She does not practice."
"No matter," said the superior to herself; "if she be intelligent, that
will suffice." Then she resumed aloud. "Do you know if she is a good
workwoman?"
"I believe so, mother."
The superior rose, took a register from a shelf, appeared to be looking
into it attentively for some time, and then said, as she replaced it:
"Fetch in this young girl, and go and wait for me in the press-room."
"Deformed--intelligent--clever at her needle," said the superior,
reflecting; "she will excite no suspicion. We must see."
In about a minute, Florine returned with Mother Bunch, whom she
introduced to the superior, and then discreetly withdrew. The young
sempstress was agitated, trembling, and much troubled, for she could, as
it were, hardly believe a discovery which she had chanced to make during
Florine's absence. It was not without a vague sense of terror that the
hunchback remained alone with the lady superior.