"Ah Laurette!" interrupted Enrico, "how providential was this illness! But for such an event, the benevolent exertions of the Conte della Croisse, as well as my own efforts, to inform myself of your situation, might have been fruitless." The fair narrator directed a look of gratitude towards Heaven, and then continued her recital.
"As soon as I was able," resumed Laurette, "to leave this inn, which presented very indifferent accommodations, we pursued our journey; and firmly assured, from what Paoli had advanced, that I was going to be secluded in some religious retirement, I made no farther attempt to interest his compassion, or obstruct the prosecution of his purpose.
"On the evening of the second day after our departure from the inn, he informed me, that I should be at the end of my journey that night. Again my fears began to take alarm; I looked wistfully around, but no convent appeared. Night hung her glooms upon the landscape, but still no hospitable asylum was to be seen. I now began to imagine I had been deceived; apprehension succeeded to hope, and a thrilling sensation of horror almost deprived me of reason. We then entered the precincts of the wood, whose wildness and extent appeared dreadful. The sterile sublimity of the rocks, which I had hitherto contemplated with awful admiration, receded from my view. The deafening sound of the cataract softened in a sad murmur; the wind moaned among the trees, and the hollow sighs, that it sometimes uttered, seemed to lament my approaching fate. As we entered the wood, the moon threw a pale, uncertain light upon the eminences; but no sooner had we arrived near the centre, than her beams were entirely excluded; briars and entangled thickets frequently intercepted the path, rendering it not more dreary than dangerous, and voices, heard at intervals in the silence of night, filled me with new terrors. At length a light was seen streaming through the trees, proceeding from a distant window. I inquired to whom it belonged, and was informed it was a house not far from the convent, which would accommodate us with lodgings for the night. Thither, incapable of making resistance, I suffered myself to be conveyed. Maschero gave us admittance; and having conducted us to the liabitable part of the ruin, brought some food. I attempted to eat, but could not; and pleading lassitude and indisposition, requested to be directed to my room. Maschero led me to an apartment, and after eyeing me with a malignant kind of curiosity, withdrew, leaving me, at my desire, the lamp he had carried, which I considered as an invaluable treasure. As soon as he had retired, I began to examine the door, in hopes of discovering some possible means of fastening it; but none appearing, I yielded without restraint to the impulse of my feelings, which were now too violent to be subdued. When I had indulged the first paroxysms of my sorrow, I advanced towards the window, to take a minute survey of my situation, and to ascertain if there was any apparent possibility of escaping from it, should I be deserted by my artful conductor, and left in the power of Maschero, whose unprepossessing appearance had given me justly the idea of an assassin.
"After a night passed in the utmost distress and anxiety, I was again visited by this emaciated figure, whose aspect had excited at once pity and terror. He entered without seeming to recollect that the room contained any other inhabitant, and after setting a pitcher of water and a cake upon the floor, would have instantly withdrawn; but I prevented his design by inquiring whether Paoli was arisen; and being answered in the affirmative, ventured to ask if he had mentioned any thing relative to our intended departure?"
"You are at the end of your journey, I believe," replied Maschero, with a malignant smile; "and since the person who brought you has thought proper to leave you, must make yourself contented where you are."
"What I suffered from this intelligence cannot be easily imagined, or rather what I suffered a short time afterwards; for having fainted, I was not immediately conscious of what had passed. As soon as I recovered, I found myself again alone. The door was fastened, and the pitcher and the barley-cake were placed by the side of the mattress upon which I had fallen. My distress now admitted of no increase, death appeared unavoidable, and I now began to consider in what manner it was likely to be executed. Sometimes I conceived it probable that Paoli had only absented himself for a few days, for the purpose of transacting some business in that part of the province, and meant to return at the expiration of that time, and to fulfil his intention. At other times, I imagined it likely that I was designedly left to perish, either by poison or famine; and that the steward intended to wait at a convenient distance, till after my decease, that he might have the satisfaction of conveying the intelligence to his Lord.
"Two whole days passed in this manner without any material event, in which time no creature approached the melancholy chamber selected for my apartment. Hunger had obliged me to take a small portion of the cake, with which my inhospitable host had supplied me; it was coarse and unpalatable; but being ready to sink for want of food, I was compelled to have recourse to it. The next day this pittance was exhausted, and I soon discovered that it was not the intention of my gaoler to present me with more, who having closed the door upon me when I was in a state of insensibility, meant never more to break in upon my solitude with a repetition of his services.
"As night advanced, I felt my indisposition considerably augmented; a death-like faintness was communicated to my heart, and placing myself again upon the mattress, I endeavoured to resign myself to my lot. At last a loud knocking at the outer door roused me from my seat. I started, and proceeded towards the grate; but the gloom prevented me from distinguishing any object, though I had no remaining doubt but that it was Paoli, who was come to witness the completion of his dreadful purpose.
"Some hours passed in the utmost solicitude, till wearied Nature could no longer resist the attacks of sleep. With what succeeded this period," resumed Laurette, "you are already acquainted; but the extent of my gratitude you cannot easily comprehend."
The look, which accompanied the conclusion of the narrative, was perhaps more expressive of her feelings than any thing she could have uttered: and those bestowed upon her by Enrico displayed more of compassion, affection, and tender concern, than the most forcible language could have conveyed.
The spires of the convent were now discovered above the tops of the trees, and the most pleasurable emotions succeeded. It was a stately Gothic edifice, inclosing an extensive area. The walls, which were at a considerable distance, were strengthened at the angles by small square towers, which were partly in ruins; and these, together with the whole of the out-works, though formed of the most ponderous materials, were crumbling into dust, and were overrun with mosses, lickens, and other weedy incrustations, which gave it rather the appearance of a deserted than an inhabited mansion.
When the party had arrived at a large stone arch, leading into the grounds, they alighted from the carriage; and having crossed the lawn, were met by a Friar at the gate, who came forwards to receive them. Of him the Conte della Croisse made an inquiry concerning the Superior of the convent, and learned from him that the greatest part of the building was inhabited by a society of Monks, who were also Benedictines. This he considered was no unfavourable circumstance, as Enrico and himself might easily gain admission into their order, should their enterprise not be conducted with the facility they desired: whilst Laurette might remain resident in the convent till Madame Chamont had obtained permission to leave it, and could do it without a breach of propriety.
Whilst the Conte continued in conversation with the Friar, the tolling of a bell, proceeding from the chapel, which was situated somewhat remote, fixed the attention of the travellers. Della Croisse inquired the occasion of it, and was told that a Nun was going to be professed.
"You will find some difficulty in gaining an introduction to the Superior," resumed the Monk, "till the ceremony is performed. Would it not be better to defer the execution of your intention till afterwards; and in the meantime, by mixing with the multitude, you may be gratified with a view of the solemnities. Some of the sisters are already proceeding towards the chapel, and if you will grant me permission, I will accompany yo
u thither."
From what the Monk had declared, it appeared probable that the Abbess would not indulge them with an audience till the profession was over; and after thanking him for his courtesy, they agreed to the proposition.
The congregation was not at present assembled, and the Friar having conducted them along the eastern aisle, placed them on a bench of black marble, which was fixed near the altar, and then left them to join a procession of Monks, who were commissioned to attend.
As soon as this religious had retired, the party contemplated, with surprise, the magnificence and beauty of the chapel. It was supported by pillars of Carara marble, of the most exquisite workmanship. The niches of the walls were adorned with images of the saints and martyrs, the performances of the most celebrated artists, and taste and greatness of design were every where evident.
The organ was loftily situated in a gallery built for the purpose: it was composed chiefly of ebony, and ornamented with curtains of crimson velvet, which were curiously wrought with flowers of gold and purple. The altar was decorated with a profusion of wax-tapers, interspersed with vases, containing frankincense, and other costly perfumes. The table was covered with an embroidered cloth, which was worked by the ingenious hands of the vestals in the most chaste and sacred devices. A large crucifix was erected in the centre, which was supported on one side by an image of the Virgin, and on the other by that of Saint Agatha. The altar-piece was the last supper, by Michael Angelo, which was surrounded by a number of large medallion-paintings, by the most admired artists, representing the deaths and sufferings of the martyrs.
When they had paused for some minutes, to take a general survey of these splendid decorations, they observed two of the Friars hastening towards the aisle, to which they had been con-ducted on their arrival. They were habited as Benedictines; but their garments being made of coarser materials, bespoke inferiority of rank.
One of these religious spread a carpet, which he had brought for the purpose, in the centre of the chapel, whilst the other laid a pall at the steps of the altar. Soon after this preparation was over, a multitude of spectators assembled, which curiosity, or some not less active principle of their natures, had directed thither, who, having placed themselves in the most eligible situations, awaited the commencement of the sacred rites.
The funeral-bell, which had been for some time tolling, now ceased, and the loud peals of the organ were heard in its stead. A train of Monks, attended by their Superior, then advanced, who moved slowly along the aisle; and the ceremony of the entrance, which was not more striking than impressive, began. First came the novices, strewing the floor with the most beautiful evergreens, preserved and reared for the purpose; then the Lady of the convent, Iattended by the Nuns, according to their order, with her mitre, and in robes of state; and lastly, the fair devotee, who was come to take the sacred, the indissoluble vow, which was to seal her inevitable doom. She was conducted, or rather supported, by two of the sisterhood, who, with a slow and solemn pace, led her towards the centre of the chapel, each bearing a lighted taper in her hand. The music now ceased. A buzz of indistinct voices was heard for the moment, which gradually grew fainter, and then died into silence. Our travellers, having eyed the procession with a kind of painful curiosity, now left the place on which they had been seated, and mingled with the throng. In vain did Enrico endeavour to recognize the features of his mother; for the veils of the novices were so artfully folded, that their faces were entirely concealed.
As soon as the procession had reached the steps of the altar, the Superior of the monastery addressed the devotee in an exhortation replete with unaffected grace and eloquence, to which she gave the most fixed and earnest attention. The easy dignity of his manners, the deep pathos of his voice, and above all, the sublimity of his doctrines, so affected his audience, that the whole congregation listened to him with devout astonishment.
As soon as this was delivered, the sister, who was to take the veil, advanced between two others of the Nuns, to make her profession. Her voice was at first tremulous; but as she proceeded, it naturally regained its powers; and having answered some questions which were proposed by the priest, respecting the time of her initiation, she knelt before him, and made her profession, which was delivered with the most admirable articulation, and classical elegance.
The prayers appointed for the occasion were then read, in which the Abbess and the rest of the Nuns, as well as the Monks who attended, joined with much fervency, and apparent devotion. As soon as these were concluded, the officiating priest came forward, and having laid the proper dress of the order upon a small marble table erected on one side of the altar, began to assort them; whilst the Lady Abbess took the novitiate veil from the fair devotee, and prepared to enrobe her in black.—When this covering was removed, the eyes of the spectators were withdrawn from the priest, and fixed with a gaze of curiosity on the sister. It discovered a very lovely face, full of the most interesting expression. It was pale, but it was beautiful, and received lustre and character from a pair of dark blue eyes, whose fringed lids shaded a complexion of the most dazzling whiteness; whilst the extreme delicacy of her form was rendered infinitely more attractive from being finely contrasted with the long sable robe descending far beneath the feet, the garb, in which the reformed Benedictine Nuns of the congregation of Mount Calvary are clad.
As soon as the eternal veil was substituted in the room of the novitiate one, and the broad belt and the rosary were adjusted, the priest dipped the consecrated brush in the holy water, and, after having repeatedly crossed himself, sprinkled the devotee, who being then reconducted to that part of the chapel where the rest of the sisterhood were assembled, remained for some time at her devotions. Whilst this ceremony continued, the most solemn breathing strains issued from the organ, which seemed to wrap the souls of all present in a divine enthusiasm. These were succeeded by the choral voices of the Monks, whose deep tones were softened and harmonized by the sweet sound of female strains occasionally joining in and improving the melody.—These rites being over, the professed arose from the place in which she had been kneeling, to undergo that part of the solemnity which appeared to the spectators more awfully impressive than the rest. She was attended as before by two of the sisters, who having led her into the centre, receded a few paces back, whilst she threw herself, with a degree of collected earnestness, upon the carpet. Thus humbled to the dust, she imprinted a kiss upon the earth, to express her humility and lowliness of heart, as well as to signify that she had now totally relinquished the pomps and vanities of the world, to whose follies she was henceforth dead. The body of the fair votarist was now covered with a pall, as if the spark of life, which had animated it, was extinguished for ever; whilst the burial service was chanted to the notes of the organ, assisted by the vocal powers of the Nuns, Priests, and Friars, whose wrapped souls seemed to be as much elevated above the world, and its trifling concerns, as if they had already shaken off the gross mould that enclosed them.
As soon as these lofty strains had ceased, the vestal was reconducted to her place; and after some time spent in prayer, in which she was devoutly joined by the Priests, Sisters, and whole fraternity of Monks, the consecrated wafer was administered, and the awful solemnities of the church in the rites of the Sacrament began. The devotee having received it with an aspect of collected meekness almost angelic, arose, and having kissed the robes of the officiating Priest, she bowed herself, with inimitable grace, before the crucifix, breathing at the same time a repetition of her vow. She then embraced the rest of the sisterhood, and was conducted by them to the Lady Abbess, who saluted her with a maternal smile, and afterwards to the novices, who received her with the most cordial affection; while a number of rose-lipped girls, fair and beautiful as angels, who were resident for a convent education, strewed flowers over them as they passed along to the last ceremony, that of the coronation, emblematic of that crown of glory, which is promised as a reward to those who, after suffering continual trials and mortificati
ons, are admitted into the regions of felicity.
When this was over, the bleeding cross of Mount Calvary was hung in her bosom, whilst the chanted hymn, which seemed to utter forth celestial sounds, rose into deep and choral harmony. All present, being wrapped in undivided attention, appeared to have forgotten that they were among the inhabitants of that world, above which they felt so strangely elevated. As the strains died into cadence, which seemed to have proceeded from no mortal touch, the procession of Nuns and Friars, attended by their Superiors, retired in the same order in which they had entered; and our travellers, who during these ceremonies had secluded themselves as much as possible among the crowd of spectators, emerged from obscurity. As the novices, who followed in the rear, moved slowly from the chapel, Enrico observed them with peculiar attention, endeavouring to discover Madame Chamont, but without success. Many were tall and graceful like her; but there appeared so great a similarity, from being dressed exactly the same, that one was scarcely to be distinguished from another.
Delay now became painful, and the whole party being anxious to obtain some information relative to the best manner of proceeding, walked rapidly from the chapel; and having reached the great gate leading to the principal court belonging to the brotherhood, soon beheld, to their satisfaction, the Friar who had given them admittance on their arrival, standing with two of the Fathers of the Benedictine order in the portico of the monastery.
The Conte instantly advanced to them, and after politely interrogating them concerning their rules and institutions, repeated his foriner inquiry respecting the Abbess. The Monk received him as before with the most easy courtesy of manner; but on his requesting to know if there would be any impropriety in desiring an immediate audience with the Superior, was advised to defer it till she had given her charge to the sisterhood—a ceremony never dispensed with.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 368