He rose only to go to mass.He went to the church and knelt close to the screen, with his forehead touching the curtain; he would have torn a hole in it if he had been alone, but his host had come with him out of politeness, and the least imprudence might compromise the whole future of his love, and ruin the new hopes.
The organ sounded, but it was another player, and not the nun of the last two days whose hands touched the keys.It was all colourless and cold for the General.Was the woman he loved prostrated by emotion which wellnigh overcame a strong man's heart? Had she so fully realised and shared an unchanged, longed-for love, that now she lay dying on her bed in her cell?
While innumerable thoughts of this kind perplexed his mind, the voice of the woman he worshipped rang out close beside him; he knew its clear resonant soprano.It was her voice, with that faint tremor in it which gave it all the charm that shyness and diffidence gives to a young girl; her voice, distinct from the mass of singing as a prima donna's in the chorus of a finale.It was like a golden or silver thread in dark frieze.
It was she! There could be no mistake.Parisienne now as ever, she had not laid coquetry aside when she threw off worldly adornments for the veil and the Carmelite's coarse serge.She who had affirmed her love last evening in the praise sent up to God, seemed now to say to her lover, "Yes, it is I.I am here.
My love is unchanged, but I am beyond the reach of love.You will hear my voice, my soul shall enfold you, and I shall abide here under the brown shroud in the choir from which no power on earth can tear me.You shall never see me more!""It is she indeed!" the General said to himself, raising his head.He had leant his face on his hands, unable at first to bear the intolerable emotion that surged like a whirlpool in his heart, when that well-known voice vibrated under the arcading, with the sound of the sea for accompaniment.
Storm was without, and calm within the sanctuary.Still that rich voice poured out all its caressing notes; it fell like balm on the lover's burning heart; it blossomed upon the air--the air that a man would fain breathe more deeply to receive the effluence of a soul breathed forth with love in the words of the prayer.The alcalde coming to join his guest found him in tears during the elevation, while the nun was singing, and brought him back to his house.Surprised to find so much piety in a French military man, the worthy magistrate invited the confessor of the convent to meet his guest.Never had news given the General more pleasure; he paid the ecclesiastic a good deal of attention at supper, and confirmed his Spanish hosts in the high opinion they had formed of his piety by a not wholly disinterested respect.
He enquired with gravity how many sisters there were in the convent, and asked for particulars of its endowment and revenues, as if from courtesy he wished to hear the good priest discourse on the subject most interesting to him.He informed himself as to the manner of life led by the holy women.Were they allowed to go out of the convent, or to see visitors?
"Senor," replied the venerable churchman, "the rule is strict.
A woman cannot enter a monastery of the order of St.Bruno without a special permission from His Holiness, and the rule here is equally stringent.No man may enter a convent of Barefoot Carmelites unless he is a priest specially attached to the services of the house by the Archbishop.None of the nuns may leave the convent; though the great Saint, St.Theresa, often left her cell.The Visitor or the Mothers Superior can alone give permission, subject to an authorisation from the Archbishop, for a nun to see a visitor, and then especially in a case of illness.Now we are one of the principal houses, and consequently we have a Mother Superior here.Among other foreign sisters there is one Frenchwoman, Sister Theresa; she it is who directs the music in the chapel.""Oh!" said the General, with feigned surprise."She must have rejoiced over the victory of the House of Bourbon.""I told them the reason of the mass; they are always a little bit inquisitive.""But Sister Theresa may have interests in France.Perhaps she would like to send some message or to hear news.""I do not think so.She would have come to ask me.""As a fellow-countryman, I should be quite curious to see her,"said the General."If it is possible, if the Lady Superior consents, if----""Even at the grating and in the Reverend Mother's presence, an interview would be quite impossible for anybody whatsoever; but, strict as the Mother is, for a deliverer of our holy religion and the throne of his Catholic Majesty, the rule might be relaxed for a moment," said the confessor, blinking."I will speak about it.""How old is Sister Theresa?" enquired the lover.He dared not ask any questions of the priest as to the nun's beauty.
"She does not reckon years now," the good man answered, with a simplicity that made the General shudder.
Next day before siesta, the confessor came to inform the French General that Sister Theresa and the Mother consented to receive him at the grating in the parlour before vespers.The General spent the siesta in pacing to and fro along the quay in the noonday heat.Thither the priest came to find him, and brought him to the convent by way of the gallery round the cemetery.
Fountains, green trees, and rows of arcading maintained a cool freshness in keeping with the place.
