Maria again took up her book, brought her chair to the window, and sitting down, began to read, it now being light enough to allow it. It was the _Life of Saint Teresa_, written by herself,--a book bound in solid pasteboard covers, which were stamped with the gilt ornamentations characteristic of religious works.

According as the young girl became absorbed in her reading, her face grew more and more serene, and the deep frown on her brow disappeared.

She was reading the second chapter in which the Saint sets forth how in the years of her youth she was enamored with books of knight-errantry, and the vanities of the toilet, and hints at the love affairs which at the same time she had pa.s.sed through. When Maria raised her eyes from the book, they shone with a peculiar delight of inward content.

The bells of San Felipe at last actually began to ring. Maria quickly threw down her book and opened her maid's chamber-door.

"Genoveva! Genoveva!"

"I am awake, senorita."

"Get up; San Felipe's bells are ringing!"

In a twinkling Genoveva was up, dressed, and on hand in her mistress'

room. She was a woman of forty years, more or less, short, fat, swarthy, with puffy cheeks, with great, protuberant gray eyes which were expressionless, absolutely expressionless, and with thin hair waving on her temples. She wore a plain carmelite skirt, and the black merino cloak gathered at the shoulders, such as are used by all provincial serving-women. She had entered the household when Maria was not yet a year old, to be her nurse, and she had never left her, being a notable example of a faithful, steadfast servant.

"How long has my little dove[6] been dressed?"

"About an hour already, Genoveva. I thought I heard the bells, but I was mistaken. Now they are ringing in good earnest. Let us not lose any time; take the umbrellas, and let us go."

"Whenever you please, senorita; I am all ready."

Both put on their mantillas, and trying not to make any noise, they went down to the entry, carefully unlocked and opened the door, and sallied forth into the street, which they crossed with open umbrellas until they reached the opposite arcade.

The little city of Nieva, as it seems to me I have already said, has almost all of its streets lined with an arcade on one side or the other, sometimes on both. As a general thing it is small, low, uneven, and supported by single round stone pillars, without ornamentation of any sort. Likewise it is ill paved. Only in occasional localities, where some house had been reconstructed, it was wider and had more comfortable pavement. If all the houses were to be rebuilt,--and there is no doubt that this will come in time,--the town, owing to this system of construction, would have a certain monumental aspect, making it well worthy of being seen. Even as it is now, though it does not boast of much beauty, it is very convenient for pedestrians, who need not get wet except when they may wish to pa.s.s from one sidewalk to the other. And certainly its ill.u.s.trious founders were far-sighted, for, as regards constant, ceaseless rain, there is no other place in Spain that can hold a candle to our town.

Protected from the rain, mistress and maid crossed through one corner of the Plaza, and entered a long, narrow, solitary street. The worthy inhabitants were sleeping the sweet sleep of morning. Only from time to time they met some sailor wrapped up in his rough waterproof capote, who, with fishing utensils in his hand, and making a great clatter with his enormous boots, was striding towards the quay.

"Are you well protected, senorita? See, there's been a frost; one would think it was already January."

"Yes; I put on a velvet waist, and besides, this sacque is well wadded."

"Well, well, sweetheart.[7] If your papa knew that we were out so early, he would scold me for consenting to it. You are exceedingly virtuous, senorita. Few or none would lead such a saintly life at your age."

"Hush, hush, Genoveva! don't say such a thing. I am only a miserable sinner; much more miserable than you have any idea of."

"Senorita, for Heaven's sake--I am not the only one who says so; but everybody. Yesterday Dona Filomela told me that she was edified to see you go to ma.s.s, and take the Blessed Sacrament, and she would give anything if her daughters would do the same. And I don't wonder she wishes so, for one of 'em, the youngest, is the devil's own. Would you believe, the other day, senorita, she scratched her sister right in church because one was to confess before the other. Pretty kind of repentance! It's shameful, senorita, it's shameful to see how some women go to church! One would think that they were in their own houses! Ay!

the poor little things don't realize that they are in the house of the Lord of heaven and earth, who will ask them to give account of their sin. Hasn't Dona Filomela shown you the rosary which her brother sent her from Havana? It is a marvel! all ivory and gold, with a great crucifix of solid gold. To say your prayers there's no need of such extravagance, is there, senorita?"

"To pray one needs only a pure and humble heart."

"Ay! senorita, how well you speak! It seems as if they were mistaken who say that you are not more than twenty years old. But when G.o.d wishes to pour out his gifts on one of his creatures, it makes no difference whether she be young or old, rich or poor. Every day I pray the most Blessed Virgin to preserve your health, so that you may serve as an example for those who are in mortal sin."

"What you ought to pray for, Genoveva, is that He will purify my soul and pardon the many sins that I have committed."

"G.o.d have mercy! if you need to be forgiven, you who are so pious and humble-minded, what would the rest of us need? Don't be so severe upon yourself. Fray Ignacio has so much esteem for you that he never wearies of sounding your praises; and that too, though he's not very indulgent, as you know. At this very moment I suppose that holy man's in the sacristy, listening to people! What a healthy man he is! It must be because G.o.d makes him so. He doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep, he doesn't rest a moment. And yet every day he grows stronger and stronger, and has greater and greater zeal in serving G.o.d. I don't see how he can spend so many hours in the confessional, without taking something to eat. Only the Lord can give him the power. Blessed be His name forever! Amen!"

"That's true; G.o.d works real miracles in him because there is need in the world. Oh, G.o.d! what would have become of my soul if these holy missioners had not come to open my eyes!"

"Though they have helped greatly in the way of salvation, still, before they came you were very good and used to attend the Sacraments."

"How little that amounts to, Genoveva, when the deepest nooks and corners of the conscience are not looked into!"

"Tell me, senorita, did you see in your dreams last night that beautiful bird with fiery feathers, with a cross in its bill, which you have seen lately?"

Maria stopped suddenly short and raised her hand to her breast as though she had received a blow. Then she began to walk on again, exclaiming in an undertone,--

"Last night I was not allowed to see it!"

"Why not, sweetheart?"

She made no reply. She walked on a while, and a groan escaped her. Then she stopped once more, and throwing her arms around her maid's neck, she began to sob bitterly.

"I am very wicked, Genoveva, very wicked! My heart has not yet been freed from impurities; the flesh and the devil will hold me in their sway. If you knew what a sin I committed yesterday!"

"Hush, hush! don't be discouraged! What sin could you have committed, you lamb?"[8]

"Yes, yes; I am more wicked than you imagine. The more light I receive from G.o.d, the deeper I seem to sink into the darkness; the more He heaps blessings upon me, the more ungrateful I am toward Him."

"G.o.d is infinitely merciful, senorita."

"But infinitely just, as well."

"Beseech the aid of Saint Joseph the blessed; there is no fault which the Lord does not forgive through his intercession. Come, stop crying now; you are going to confession, and all is going to be forgiven."

After the girl had calmed down a little, they proceeded on their way, till they reached a rather diminutive plaza, fronted by the stern, gray facade of a great church which attracted attention neither by its beauty nor by any other quality, good or bad. They crossed a portico, huge and gray like the facade, and entered the temple, which was likewise gray and enormous; these qualities were its only characteristics. It consisted of three naves, the central one broad and lofty like a cathedral; those on the sides narrow and low; all three had been whitewashed at some time very remote, but were now thick with dust, peeling in various places and stained with wide-spread, mysterious spots. The altars, which were profusely adorned, presented a gray color, very distinct from the gilding which originally had covered them.

Through its dirty gla.s.s could be seen the stiff image of some saint with metal aureole, or the sad anguished face of an Ecce-h.o.m.o.

It was too early in the morning to find many people. Nevertheless, scattered here and there, praying on bended knees before the altars, a few women with covered heads were to be seen; others pressed up to the latticed windows of the confessional and held their mantillas on both sides of their faces, while with a half-audible whispering they confided their misdeeds to the sacred tribunal of the Church. A few priests, who kept the doors of the confessionals open, could be seen in ca.s.sock and hood, bending forward, with their ears to the window, reflecting in their frowning faces and negligent att.i.tude the weariness which they felt; others kept theirs hermetically sealed, and scarcely could any one in pa.s.sing perceive the presence of a human being.

A few places in the sanctuary were bathed in a melancholy light, but the corners and the hollows between the pillars were left in almost perfect darkness. The huge brazen lamps swung in the s.p.a.ces on cords attached to the roof. The leaded window of the two huge, open oriels, high up in the walls of the great central nave, admitted a sad sheet of light, extending like a pale altar-cloth before the princ.i.p.al shrine. On one side of this, at some little distance, was another small portable altar, upon which was raised an image of the Saviour with perforated breast, wherein was seen a bleeding heart, wearing a crown of thorns and haloed with flames; around the image were a host of lighted candles, the hissing and crackling of which sounded lugubriously in the immense, silent circuit of the church. It was a temporary altar set up because of the Nine Days' Festival of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, which was celebrated at that time.

Genoveva went to the sacristy to ask Fray Ignacio if her senorita could make her confession. The latter remained kneeling near the confessional, waiting for the priest. She felt a peculiar, timid impatience; a bit of fear mingled with anxiety and desire. The sanctuary was filled with a mingled odor of dampness and dust, of extinguished candles and of faded flowers, which inspired her with veneration. The moments preceding confession were filled with a delicious suspense for Maria. The circ.u.mstance and mystery which surrounded that intimate confidence, the most intimate in the world, exerted a certain fascination over her mind, and agitated her to the very depths of her being, without loathing. She felt slight chills run over her body, followed by flushes of heat, which mounted to her face and set it on fire. At that moment she thought not so much of her sins as of the way in which she should try to tell them.

Fray Ignacio's dark, resolute, and stern figure hastened up to the confessional, and without vouchsafing his penitent a single glance, took his place within it. Maria, tremulous and with melting heart, drew near the little window. When at the end of a half-hour she turned away, her eyes were red and her cheeks were pale.

The church, meantime, had been slowly filling, although almost exclusively with women. A few ventured as far as the centre, making with their wooden shoes a real clatter as they walked on the tiled pavement; the most took them off at the door and carried them in their hands. The women of the people were in the majority, but there were a goodly number of senoras: men were few. The mult.i.tude for some time remained scattered about, kneeling at the altar rails, all making their devotions. From time to time an acolyte in flesh-colored balandran and white surplice, with shaven head and crafty eyes, rang his bronze hand-bell, and a few women left their places and stationed themselves before some altar where a priest, decked with golden ornaments, was beginning the sacrifice of the ma.s.s. After consuming the elements, he would administer the communion to two or three sets of women. Maria, with head bent on her bosom and hands devoutly crossed, joined them to receive the Holy Eucharist. When the priest placed on her tongue the consecrated particle, amid the dull, hushed murmur of the throng, she felt her cheeks slightly inflamed by the grandeur of the miracle which had taken place within her; then she withdrew three or four steps from the altar, overwhelmed with veneration, and without venturing to cast a look on either side, at the end of a short s.p.a.ce she left her place and went to repeat the prayers imposed as her penance. An elderly clergyman in a surplice mounted the pulpit, which was covered with a cloth of gold tissue. The faithful came flocking from the remotest parts of the church towards the centre, forming a dense throng about the pulpit. Maria and Genoveva stood in the midst of it. The priest made the sign of the cross, and began his Ave Marias and Pater Nosters in a loud voice. When the rosary was ended, he began the service, the novena of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The clergyman put on an enormous pair of spectacles, and in a snuffling, doleful tone exclaimed:--

"_O Heart_ (_Corazon_)"--the mult.i.tude repeated after him with solemn acclaim, prolonging the words--"O Heart (_Corazoooon_)--_most lovable_ (_amantisimo_)--most lovable (_amantisimooo_)--_most sacred_ (_santisimo_)--most sacred (_santisimooo_)--_and honey-sweet_ (_melifluo_)--and honey-sweet (_melifluoo_)--_of my divine Jesus_--of my divine Jesus--_full of flames_--full of flames--of _purest love_ (_amor_)--of purest love (_amooor_)--_consume me entirely_--consume me entirely--_and grant me_--and grant me--_a new life_--a new life--_of love and of grace_--of love and of grace;--_kindle and consume_--kindle and consume--_my lukewarmness_--my lukewarmness.--O Heart (_Corazon_)--O Heart (_Corazoooon_)--_most comfortable_ (_dulcisimo_)--most comfortable (_dulcisimooo_)--_I adore thee_--I adore thee--_most profoundly_--most profoundly.--_Grant me grace_--Grant me grace--_O loving Heart_ (_Corazon_)--O loving Heart (_Corazooon_)--_to atone for_--to atone for--_the insults and ingrat.i.tudes_--the insults and ingrat.i.tudes--_done against thee_ (_Vos_)--done against thee (_Vooos_)--_and what I pray thee for_--and what I pray thee for--_in this novena_--in this novena--_is for the greater glory of G.o.d_ (_Dios_)--is for the greater glory of G.o.d (_Diooos_)--_and of my soul_--and of my soul--_Amen_--Amen."

Maria merely whispered the words of the orison and kept her eyes fastened on the ground. Genoveva repeated them aloud, looking straight into the priest's face. The mult.i.tude sighed after they said Amen.

When the orison was ended, the priest repeated three Pater Nosters and three Ave Marias in honor of the three marks of the pa.s.sion with which the divine Heart of Jesus showed itself to the Blessed Mother Margarita of Alacoque. The faithful knelt in reply. Immediately began a new orison like the first, addressed to the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary. Then the priest recommended all to beseech G.o.d through the mediation of the Sacred Hearts for whatever each most needed, and the congregation meditated silently for a few moments. Maria prayed fervently that G.o.d would make her a better woman. Genoveva spent some time in hesitation, without knowing what to ask for, and at last she asked for patience to endure the suffering of her influenza. The priest read with his snuffling voice, which drawled over the syllables like a lamentation, the following

ILl.u.s.tRATION.

"In the city of Munich there lived not many years ago a lady of extraordinary beauty, who led such an exemplary life, that all gave her the name of saint. It happened that one day there came to her house a very lively young man to visit her, on the ground that she was one of his own cousins, and instantly the devil managed to get complete possession of him. His pa.s.sion was so mad and wretched that at the end of some time she yielded to an impure sin, thus gravely offending G.o.d.

After she fell into this sin she found herself sunk in a deep abyss of melancholy, for though the unhappy woman immediately sent away the one who had been the cause of her fault, she believed that she was doomed to h.e.l.l. She began to lead an austere life, mortifying herself with fasting and penitence, and yet she could not escape the horrible thought. At length, by the advice of a pilgrim who happened to pa.s.s that way, she determined to make a novena to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. On the night of the fifth day of constant prayer, being in bed, she heard a great disturbance, and saw flying from her house a demon, horribly howling and leaving behind him an intolerably fetid odor. On the following morning she found herself cured of her melancholy, and very confident of the infinite mercy of G.o.d."

The faithful crowded closer around the pulpit to hear the ill.u.s.tration, and they took in with delight its romantic flavor. The novena ended with a sermon in Latin. The congregation repeated an Ave Maria and a Credo.