the duchesse de langeais-第3章

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　alone　and　think　at　his　ease；　and　he　lay　absorbed　by　deep　thought　till　day　broke。

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　airthe　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。

At　the　further　end　of　the　long　gallery　the　priest　led　the　way　into　a　large　room　divided　in　two　by　a　grating　covered　with　a　brown　curtain。　　In　the　first；　and　in　some　sort　of　public　half　of　the　apartment；　where　the　confessor　left　the　newcomer；　a　wooden　bench　ran　round　the　wall；　and　two　or　three　chairs；　also　of　wood；　were　placed　near　the　grating。　　The　ceiling　consisted　of　bare　unornamented　joists　and　cross…beams　of　ilex　wood。　　As　the　two　windows　were　both　on　the　inner　side　of　the　grating；　and　the　dark　surface　of　the　wood　was　a　bad　reflector；　the　light　in　the　place　was　so　dim　that　you　could　scarcely　see　the　great　black　crucifix；　the　portrait　of　Saint　Theresa；　and　a　picture　of　the　Madonna　which　adorned　the　grey　parlour　walls。　　Tumultuous　as　the　General's　feelings　were；　they　took　something　of　the　melancholy　of　the　place。　　He　grew　calm　in　that　homely　quiet。　　A　sense　of　something　vast　as　the　tomb　took　possession　of　him　beneath　the　chill　unceiled　roof。　　Here；　as　in　the　grave；　was　there　not　eternal　silence；　deep　peacethe　sense　of　the　Infinite？　　And　besides　this　there　was　the　quiet　and　the　fixed　thought　of　the　cloistera　thought　which　you　felt　like　a　subtle　presence　in　the　air；　and　in　the　dim　dusk　of　the　room；　an　all…pervasive　thought　nowhere　definitely　expressed；　and　looming　the　larger　in　the　imagination；　for　in　the　cloister　the　great　saying；　〃Peace　in　the　Lord；〃　enters　the　least　religious　soul　as　a　living　force。

The　monk's　life　is　scarcely　comprehensible。　　A　man　seems　confessed　a　weakling　in　a　monastery；　he　was　born　to　act；　to　live　out　a　life　of　work；　he　is　evading　a　man's　destiny　in　his　cell。　　But　what　man's　strength；　blended　with　pathetic　weakness；　is　implied　by　a　woman's　choice　of　the　convent　life！　　A　man　may　have　any　number　of　motives　for　burying　himself　in　a　monastery；　for　him　it　is　the　leap　over　the　precipice。　　A　woman　has　but　one　motiveshe　is　a　woman　still；　she　betrothes　herself　to　a　Heavenly　Bridegroom。　　Of　the　monk　you　may　ask；　〃Why　did　you　not　fight　your　battle？〃　　But　if　a　woman　immures　herself　in　the　cloister；　is　there　not　always　a　sublime　battle　fought　first？

At　length　it　seemed　to　the　General　that　that　still　room；　and　the　lonely　convent　in　the　sea；　were　full　of　thoughts　of　him。　　Love　seldom　attains　to　solemnity；　yet　surely　a　love　still　faithful　in　the　breast　of　God　was　something　solemn；　something　more　than　a　man　had　a　right　to　look　for　as　things　are　in　this　nineteenth　century？

The　infinite　grandeur　of　the　situation　might　well　produce　an　effect　upon　the　General's　mind；　he　had　precisely　enough　elevation　of　soul　to　forget　politics；　honours；　Spain；　and　society　in　Paris；　and　to　rise　to　the　height　of　this　lofty　climax。　　And　what　in　truth　could　be　more　tragic？　　How　much　must　pass　in　the　souls　of　these　two　lovers；　brought　together　in　a　place　of　strangers；　on　a　ledge　of　granite　in　the　sea；　yet　held　apart　by　an　intangible；　unsurmountable　barrier！　　Try　to　imagine　the　man　saying　within　himself；　〃Shall　I　triumph　over　God　in　her　heart？〃　when　a　faint　rustling　sound　made　him　quiver；　and　the　curtain　was　drawn　aside。

Between　him　and　the　light　stood　a　woman。　　Her　face　was　hidden　by　the　veil　that　drooped　from　the　folds　upon　her　head；　she　was　dressed　according　to　the　rule　of　the　order　in　a　gown　of　the　colour　become　proverbial。　　Her　bare　feet　were　hidden；　if　the　General　could　have　seen　them；　he　would　have　known　how　appallingly　thin　she　had　grown；　and　yet　in　spite　of　the　thick　folds　of　her　coarse　gown；　a　mere　covering　and　no　ornament；　he　could　guess　how　tears；　and　prayer；　and　passion；　and　loneliness　had　wasted　the　woman　before　him。

An　ice…cold　hand；　belonging；　no　doubt；　to　the　Mother　Superior；　held　back　the　curtain。　　The　General　gave　the　enforced　witness　of　their　interview　a　searching　glance；　and　met　the　dark；　inscrutable　gaze　of　an　aged　recluse。　　The　Mother　might　have　been　a　century　old；　but　the　bright；　youthful　eyes　belied　the　wrinkles　that　furrowed　her　pale　face。

〃Mme　la　Duchesse；〃　he　began；　his　voice　shaken　with　emotion；　〃does　your　companion　understand　French？〃　　The　veiled　figure　bowed　her　head　at　the　sound　of　his　voice。

〃There　is　no　duchess　here；〃　she　replied。　　〃It　is　Sister　Theresa　whom　you　see　before　you。　　She　whom　you　call　my　companion　is　my　mother　in　God；　my　superior　here　on　earth。〃

The　words　were　so　meekly　spoken　by　the　voice　that　sounded　in　other　years　amid　harmonious　surroundings　of　refined　luxury；　the　voice　of　a　queen　of　fashion　in　Paris。　　Such　words　from　the　lips　that　once　spoke　so　lightly　and　flippantly　struck　the　General　dumb　with　amazement。

〃The　Holy　Mother　only　speaks　Latin　and　Spanish；〃　she　added。

〃I　understand　neither。　　Dear　Antoinette；　make　my　excuses　to　her。〃

The　light　fell　full　upon　the　nun's　figure；　a　thrill　of　deep　emotion　betrayed　itself　in　a　faint　quiver　of　her　veil　as　she　heard　her　name　softly　spoken　by　the　man　who　had　been　so　hard　in　the　past。

〃My　brother；〃　she　said；　drawing　her　sleeve　under　her　veil；　perhaps　to　brush　tears　away；　〃I　am　Sister　Theresa。〃

Then；　turning　to　the　Superior；　she　spoke　in　Spanish；　the　General　knew　enough　of　the　language　to　understand　what　she　said　perfectly　well；　possibly　he　could　have　spoken　it　had　he　chosen　to　do　so。

〃Dear　Mother；　the　gentleman　presents　his　respects　to　you；　and　begs　you　to　pardon　him　if　he　cannot　pay　them　himself；　but　he　knows　neither　of　the　languages　which　you　speak〃

The　aged　nun　bent　her　head　slowly；　with　an　expression　of　angelic　sweetness；　enhanced　at　the　same　time　by　the　consciousness　of　her　power　and　dignity。

〃Do　you　know　this　gentleman？〃　she　asked；　with　a　keen　glance。

〃Yes；　Mother。〃　

〃Go　back　to　your　cell；　my　daughter！〃　said　the　Mother　imperiously。　　The　General　slipped　aside　b