The Sorcerer’s Wife.
AT THE MOMENT WHEN Gilbert, after his hard day’s labor, was munching in his loft his bread dipped in cold water, and inhaling with delight the pure air of the gardens below him, a woman mounted on a magnificent Arabian horse was advancing at full gallop toward Saint-Denis, along that road which was now deserted, but which on the morrow was to be crowded with so much rank and fashion. She was dressed with elegance, but in a strange and peculiar style, and her face was hidden by a thick veil. On entering the town she proceeded straight to the Carmelite Convent, and dismounting, she knocked with her delicately-formed finger at the wicket, while her horse, which she held by the bridle, snorted and pawed the ground with impatience.
Several inhabitants of the town, struck with curiosity, gathered around her. They were attracted in the first place by her foreign attire, then by her perseverance in knocking.
“What is it you want, madame?” said one of them at length.
“You see, sir,” she replied, with a strongly marked Italian accent, “I wish to obtain admittance.”
“In that case, you are taking the wrong way. This gate is only opened once a day to the poor, and the hour is now past.”
“What must I do, then, to gain an audience of the superior?”
“You must knock at that little door at the extremity of the wall, or else ring at the grand entrance.”
Another person now approached.
“Do you know, madame,” said he, “that the present abbess is her royal highness, Madame Louise of France?”
“I know it, sir, thank you,” she replied.
“Vertudieu! What a splendid animal!” exclaimed a dragoon, gazing in admiration at the foreigner’s steed. “Now, that horse, if not too old, is worth five hundred louis-d’ors, as sure as mine is worth a hundred pistoles!”
These words produced a great effect on the crowd.
At that moment, a canon, who, unlike the dragoon, looked only at the rider to the exclusion of her steed, made his way toward her, and by some secret known to himself alone, opened, the wicket of the tower.
“Enter, madame,” said he, “and lead in your horse, if you please.”
The woman, eager to escape from the gaze of the crowd, which seemed to terrify her, hurried in, and the gate was closed behind her.
The moment the foreigner found herself alone in the large courtyard, she shook the bridle loose on the horse’s neck, and the noble animal, rejoiced to feel himself at liberty, made his trappings clash, and pawed the ground so loudly that the portress, who happened for the moment to be off her post, hastened out from the interior of the convent.
“What do you want, madame?” cried she, “and how did you gain admittance here?”
“A charitable canon opened the gate for me,” said the stranger. “As for my business, I wish if possible to speak to the superior.”
“Madame will not receive any one this evening.”
“Yet I have been told that it is the duty of superiors of convents to admit, at any hour of the day or of the night, their sisters of the world who come to implore their succor.”
“Possibly so, in ordinary circumstances; but her royal highness, who only arrived the day before yesterday, is scarcely installed in her office yet, and holds this evening a chapter of our order.”
“Oh, madame!” replied the stranger, “I come from a great distance — I come from Rome. I have traveled sixty leagues on horseback, and am almost exhausted.”
“What can I do? The orders of the superior are positive.”
“My sister, I have to reveal to your abbess matters of the highest importance.”
“Return to-morrow.”
“It is impossible. I have stayed one day in Paris, and already during that day — besides, I cannot sleep at an inn.”
“Why so?”
“Because I have no money.”
The nun gazed in amazement at this woman, covered with jewels, and mistress of a flue horse, who pretended that she had no money to pay for a night’s lodging.
“Oh, do not heed my words! Do not examine my dress!” said the young woman; “perhaps I did not speak the precise truth when I said I had no money, for no doubt I could obtain credit in any inn. But what I want is not a lodging but a, refuge.”
“Madame, this is not the only convent in St. Denis, and each convent has an abbess.”
“Yes, yes! I know that well; but it is not a common abbess who can protect me.”
“I think you are wrong in persisting thus. The Princess Louise no longer takes any interest in affairs of this world.”
“What matters it to you? Only just tell her that I wish to speak to her.”
“She is holding a chapter, I tell you.”
“After it is over, then?”
“It has scarcely begun.”
“I can go into the church and wait there in prayer.”
“I am sorry, madame, that I cannot permit you to wait there.”
“Oh, then I am mistaken! I am not in the house of God!” cried the stranger, with such vehemence of voice and look, that the nun, alarmed, dared no longer oppose her wishes.
“If you be really in great distress,” said she, “I shall try what I can do.”
“Oh! tell her royal highness,” added the foreigner, “that I come from Rome, that I have made only two halts on the road, one at Mayence, the other at Strasbourg; that during the last four days I have only taken the time absolutely necessary for myself and my horse to regain strength to continue our journey.”
“I shall tell her, sister,” and the nun hastened off.
A moment after a lay sister appeared, followed by the portress.
“Well?” exclaimed the stranger, impatient to know what reply had been sent.
“Her royal highness says, madame,” replied the lay sister, “it is quite impossible to give you an audience this evening; but that nevertheless the hospitality of the convent shall be extended to you, since you are in such urgent want of an asylum. You may follow me, therefore, sister, and if you have made so long a journey as you say, and are fatigued, you can retire to rest at once.”
“But my horse?”
“Rest assured he shall be taken care of, my sister.”
“He is as gentle as a lamb. He is called Djerid, and comes when addressed by that name. I entreat you will take care of him, for he is a most valuable animal.”
“He shall be treated as if he were one of the king’s horses.”
“Thanks.”
“In the meantime, conduct madame to her apartment,” said the lay sister to the portress.
“Not to my apartment — to the church! I do not require sleep, but prayer.”
“The chapel is open, my sister,” said the nun, pointing to a little side door which gave admittance to the church.
“And I shall see the superior in the morning?” asked the stranger.
“To-morrow morning? That is also impossible.”
“Why so?”
“Because to-morrow morning there will be a grand reception.”
“And for whom can a reception be more necessary than for an unfortunate like me?”
“Her royal highness the dauphiness will do us the honor to spend two hours here on her way through town to-morrow. It is a great honor for our convent, and a high solemnity for us poor nuns; so that, you understand, the abbess is most anxious that everything should be worthy of the royal guests we expect.”
“But in the meantime,” said the stranger, looking around with a shudder, “while I wait the leisure of your august superior, shall I be in safety here?”
“Undoubtedly, my sister. Our house is a refuge even for the guilty, much more for—”
“For fugitives,” said the stranger. “It is well; then no one can enter here?”
“No one — that is, not without an order.”
“Oh, but if he procures an order! Good heavens! He who is so powerful that his power at times terrifies me.”
“He? — who?” asked the nun.
“Oh, no one — no one.”
“The poor creature is deranged, I fear,” murmured the nun to herself.
“The church! The church!” repeated the stranger, so wildly as in some degree to justify this suspicion.
“Come, my sister, let me lead you to it.”
“Yes, yes, I am pursued, look you — quick! The church!”
“Oh, the walls of St. Denis are strong!” said the nun, with a compassionate smile. “Believe me, after such a journey as you have described, you had much better go and rest in a good bed than bruise your knees on the stones of our chapel.”
“No, no! I wish to pray — I wish to pray that God will rescue me from my pursuers!” cried the young woman, hurriedly entering the church by the door which the nun pointed out, and shutting the door behind her.
The nun, curious as all nuns are, hastened round to the principal entrance, and, advancing softly, saw the unknown praying and sobbing before the altar, her face bowed to the ground.