The Demoniac.
THE NOISE of the carriages, the prolonged and merry peal of the bells, the joyful beating of the drums, all the pomp and ceremony of the day — a faint reflection of that world, now lost to her forever — faded from the Princess Louise’s mind like an idle wave which had rolled up to the walls of her cell and then retreated.
When the king had departed, after having once more endeavored, but in vain, to win his daughter back to the world by a mixture of paternal entreaty and royal command, and when the dauphiness, who had been at the first glance struck by the real greatness of soul displayed by her august aunt, had also disappeared with her gay throng of courtiers, the superior of the Carmelites gave orders that the hangings should be taken down, the flowers removed, and the lace with which the convent had been decorated once more placed in its usual repository.
Of all the sisterhood of the Carmelites she alone was unmoved when the massive gates of the convent, which had for a moment opened to the world, closed heavily again on their solitude.
Then she summoned the sister who acted as treasurer of the convent.
“During these two noisy and bustling days,” asked she, ‘-’have the poor received their usual alms?”
“Yes, madame.”
“Have the sick been visited?”
“Yes, madame.”
“Did the soldiers receive some refreshment before they departed?”
“They received the wine and the bread which you ordered, madame.”
“Then no one is ill or sick in the convent?”
“No one, madame.”
The princess approached a window and softly inhaled the cool and perfumed breeze which was wafted toward her on the humid wings of evening. The treasurer waited respectfully until her august superior should give her an order or dismiss her. Madame Louise commenced to pluck off the leaves of the roses and jessamine which twined around the windows and climbed up the walls of the building. Heaven alone knows what were the thoughts of the poor royal recluse at that moment.
Suddenly the door of a detached building in the courtyard, close at hand, was shaken by the violent kick of a horse. Madame Louise started.
“What nobleman of the court has remained after the rest at St. Denis?” asked she.
“His eminence the Cardinal de Rohan, madame.”
“Are his horses here, too?”
“No, madame; they are at the chapter-house of the abbey, where he is to pass the night.”
“What noise was that, then?”
“Madame, it was caused by the foreign woman’s horse.”
“What woman?” asked Madame Louise, endeavoring to recollect.
“The Italian who came yesterday to request the protection of your royal highness.”
“Ah! true, I remember now. Where is she?”
“In her chamber, or in the church.”
“How has she conducted herself since she came?”
“Since yesterday she has refused all nourishment except dry bread, and has spent the entire night praying in the chapel.”
“Some great criminal, doubtless?” said the superior, frowning.
“I do not know, madame; she has spoken to no one since she arrived.”
“What sort of a woman is she?”
“Extremely handsome, and with an expression at once gentle and haughty.”
“This morning, during the ceremony, where was she?”
“In her chamber, close to the window, where I saw her, half hidden by the curtain, watching with anxious eyes every person who entered, as if in each she feared an enemy.”
“She is some poor erring creature of he world in which I once lived and reigned. Admit her.” The nun made a movement to retire. “Ah! By-the-by, what is her name?” asked the princess.
“Lorenza Feliciani.”
“I know no one of that name,” said Madame Louise, reflecting; “no matter, introduce her.”
The superior seated herself in her chair of state, which was of carved oak, made in the reign of Henry II., and had been used by the last nine abbesses of the Carmelites. It was a formidable judgment-seat, before which had trembled many a poor novice caught on the slippery path between spiritual and temporal things.
A moment afterward the nun entered, leading in the strange lady, who was covered from head to foot with the long veil we have before mentioned.
The Princess Louise possessed the piercing eye peculiar to her family, and as Lorenza Feliciani appeared before her, she fastened a stern and searching glance on her. But she saw in the young woman’s demeanor so much humility, grace, and beauty, and in the large eyes, filled with tears, which she turned on her, such an innocent and supplicating expression, that her feeling of harshness gave place immediately to one of compassion and kindness.
“Draw near, madame,” said the princess.
The stranger advanced hesitatingly, and was about to kneel, when the princess prevented her.
“Is not your name, madame,” said she, “Lorenza Feliciani?”
“Yes, madame.”
“And you wish to confide a secret to me?”
“Oh! I burn to do so.”
“But why had you not recourse to the tribunal of penance? I have only power to console; a priest can not only console, but pardon.”
“I require only consolation, madame,” replied Lorenza; “and, besides, it is to a woman alone that I dare relate what I have to tell you.”
“Then it is a strange story which you are about to narrate?”
“Yes, strange indeed. But hear me patiently, madame; it is to you alone, I repeat, that I dare confide it, both because you are a woman, and because you are all-powerful to protect me.”
“Protect you? Are you pursued, then? Are you in danger?”
“Oh, yes, madame, yes!” cried the stranger, with wild alarm.
“But reflect, madame,” said the princess, “that this is a convent, and not a fortress; that those worldly thoughts which agitate the breasts of men penetrate not here; that strife and combat are here extinguished; that this is not a house of justice, of force, or repression, but simply the house of God.”
“Oh! that is what I seek!” said Lorenza. “Yes, I seek the house of God, for there alone can I find shelter and repose.”
“But God admits not of revenge. How then do you ask his servant to avenge you? Address yourself to the magistrates.”
“They can do nothing against him whom I dread.”
““Who is he, then?” asked the abbess, with a mysterious and involuntary dread.
Lorenza approached close to the princess in a nervous and excited manner.
“Who is he, madame?” said she. “He is, I firmly believe, one of those demons who war against man, and whom Satan, their prince, has gifted with superhuman power.”
“How? what mean you?” exclaimed the princess, recoiling as if to satisfy herself that she was not addressing a lunatic.
“And I — I — wretch that I am!” continued Lorenza, writhing her snow-white and rounded arms, which seemed modeled from those of some antique statue, “I crossed the path of that man — and now — I am — I am—”
“What? What?”
Lorenza again approached the princess, and, as if terrified herself at what she was about to utter, she whispered hoarsely, “I am possessed by the demon!”
“Possessed?” cried the princess. “Take care, madame! Are you sure you are in your senses? Are you not —
“Mad — you would say — no, no, I am not mad — but I may become so if you abandon me.”
“But, madame,” said the princess, recovering her firmness, “permit me to observe that you seem to me in all respects one of the favored of Heaven; you are rich and beautiful, you express yourself rationally, and I see in your countenance nothing betokening that terrible and mysterious disease called possession.”
“Madame, it is in my life, it is in the adventures winch have befallen me, that the baleful secret lies which I would willingly conceal even from myself.”
“Explain yourself calmly. Am I the first to whom you have disclosed your sufferings? Your parents, your friends—”
“My parents!” exclaimed the young woman, clasping her hands with agony, “my poor parents! Shall I never see you again? Friends?” added she, bitterly, “alas, madame, have I any friends?”
“Come, let us proceed regularly, my poor child,” said Madame Louise, endeavoring to restore order to the stranger’s incoherent words; “tell me all. Who are your parents? How came you to abandon them?”
“Madame, I am a native of Rome, and I lived in Koine with them. My father belongs to the ancient nobility, but, like all our patricians, he is poor. I have also a mother, and a brother older than myself. In France, I believe, when a family such as mine has a son and daughter, the portion of the daughter is sacrificed to purchase the son’s sword; with us the daughter is sacrificed to put the son forward in the church. Consequently I received no education, as all our patrimony was required to pay for my brother’s education, that, as my poor brother innocently said, he might one day be a cardinal; and for this purpose my parents submitted to every privation, and decided on making me take the veil in the Carmelite Convent at Subiaco.”
“And you — what did you say?”
“Nothing, madame. From childhood I had been taught to look forward to such an event as inevitable. Besides, I was not consulted; my parents commanded — I had only to obey.”
“But yet—”
“Ah! madame, we Roman girls are helpless instruments in the hands of others. Almost all my young friends, who had brothers, had paid this debt for the advancement of their families. I had therefore no reason to complain; all that was done was in the ordinary course of things. My mother merely caressed me a little more than usual as the time for my leaving her approached. At last the day for the commencement of my novitiate arrived; my father prepared his five hundred crowns, my dowry for the convent, and we set out for Subiaco. It is only about nine leagues from Rome to Subiaco, but the roads are bad, and our journey was slow and fatiguing. Nevertheless, it pleased me. I welcomed it as a last enjoyment, and whispered adieu to the trees, the shrubs, the rocks, and even to the withered grass which lined the road. How could I tell if at the convent I should see trees, rocks, or shrubs? Suddenly, in the midst of my fancies, as we wound along between a wood and a mass of overhanging rock, the carriage stopped. My mother shrieked — my father seized his pistols, My thoughts descended suddenly to earth, for those who had stopped us were bandits.”
“My poor child!” said the princess, becoming more and more interested in the narrative.
“Well — shall I confess it, madame? — I was not much terrified, for these men had stopped us to take our money, and this money was the sum destined for my dowry to the convent. Consequently, if there was no dowry, my entrance into the convent would be delayed until my father could collect five hundred crowns more, and I knew well the time and trouble it had taken to amass these. But when the robbers, after having shared the booty, instead of permitting us to continue our journey, turned and seized me, regardless of the tears of my mother and the efforts of my father to defend me, I was struck with a sort of nameless terror, and shrieked aloud. They bound my hands, in spite of my struggles, and held me there while they threw the dice to ascertain to whom I should belong. I had abandoned all hope; my mother had fainted away, and my father lay writhing on the earth. At this moment a man mounted on horseback appeared among the robbers. He had spoken in a low voice to one of the sentinels on passing him, and the man had allowed him to proceed, exchanging a sign with him as he did so. He was of the middle height, of commanding features, and with a fixed and resolute glance; he continued to advance calmly at the usual pace of his steed, and when he had arrived opposite me he stopped. The bandit who was holding me bound, turned suddenly at the first blast which the stranger gave on a little whistle fixed to the end of his whip, and allowed me to slip from his hands. ‘Come hither,’ said the unknown; and, as the man appeared to hesitate, he leaned forward and whispered in his ear the single word ‘Mac.’ ‘Benac,’ replied the bandit; and then, like a lion subdued and crouching under the lash, he proceeded to untie my hands, as well as those of my father and mother. Then, as the money had been already divided, each man of the troop came forward in his turn to lay his share on a stone. Not a crown of the entire sum was wanting. ‘Now, go!’ said he to the banditti, and instantly every man disappeared among the surrounding woods.
“‘Lorenza Feliciani,’ said the stranger then, addressing me and fixing on me a look which had more than human power in it, ‘proceed on your way; you are free!’ My father and mother thanked this stranger, who knew me, but whom we did not know, and entered the carriage again. I accompanied them with a sort of regret; for some strange, irresistible power seemed to attract me to the man who had thus saved me. He remained immovable in the same spot, as if to protect our retreat, and as long as I could distinguish his form my eyes were fixed on him, and it was only when he was lost to view that the oppressive feeling which weighed upon my bosom was removed.”
“But who was this extraordinary man?” asked the princess, interested by the simplicity of the narrative.
“Deign to hear me farther, madame,” said Lorenza. “Alas! all is not yet told.”
“I listen.” said Madame Louise.
The young woman proceeded:
“Two hours afterward we reached Subiaco. During the rest of our journey we never ceased conversing about this mysterious protector, who had come so suddenly, like an angelic messenger, to our assistance, and whose power seemed so inexplicable and unbounded. My father, less credulous than I, thought that he must be the captain of one of the numerous troops of robbers which infest the neighborhood of Rome; but in this I could not agree, although I dared not openly oppose my opinion to my father’s, which was the result of years and experience. My instinctive feeling of gratitude toward this man who had so wonderfully saved me revolted against the idea that he was a bandit; and every evening, in my devotions, I offered up a prayer to the Virgin for my unknown protector.
“The same day I entered the convent. I felt sadder, but also more resigned. An Italian, and consequently superstitious, I believed that God, by delivering me from the bandits, had wished to preserve me pure and unsullied for his service. I therefore gave myself up with ardor to the fulfillment of every duty of religion; and my father, learning this, drew up a petition to the Sovereign Pontiff to entreat him to shorten the period of my novitiate. I signed this document, which was expressed in terms so warm and earnest, that his holiness, seeing in it only the aspirations of a soul disgusted with the world, granted me a dispensation which fixed the term of my novitiate at a month instead of a year.
“This news, when announced to me, inspired me with neither joy nor grief. I was like one already dead to the world. For fifteen days I was kept closely confined, lest any worldly desires might arise in my breast. At the end of that time I was allowed to descend with the other sisters to the chapel. I entered and took my place behind the curtain which separated, or affected to separate, the nuns from the congregation. Looking through one of the openings, which seemed to me, as it were, a loophole from which I could obtain a last glance at the world I was leaving, I saw a man standing up alone in the middle of the kneeling crowd. He seemed to devour me with his eyes, and I felt again that strange sensation of uneasiness which I had before experienced, and which seemed to draw me, as it were, away from myself, as I had seen my brother draw a needle after the loadstone, even through a leaf of paper or a piece of wood.
“Overcome, subdued, without force to struggle against my feelings, I leaned forward, and with clasped hands, I murmured, ‘Thanks, thanks!’ The nuns looked at me with surprise. They could not comprehend my words or gestures, and, following my glance, they rose on their seats and gazed down into the body of the church. I also gazed, trembling. The stranger had disappeared. They questioned me, but I only turned pale and red by turns, and stammered out some incoherent words. From that moment, madame,” cried Lorenza, in a despairing voice, “the demon possessed me!”
“Nevertheless,” replied the princess, smiling, “I see nothing supernatural in all that you have related. Calm yourself, my sister, and proceed.”
“Ah, madame! it is because you cannot understand what I felt. Heart, soul, mind — the demon possessed all!”
“My sister, I fear greatly that this demon was only love,” said Madame Louise.
“Oh, love could not have made me suffer thus! Love would not so have oppressed my heart — it would not have shaken my frame as the storm shakes a slender reed! Love would not have whispered in my ear the sinful thought which haunted me at that moment.”
“What thought, my child?”
“Ought not I to have disclosed all to my confessor, madame?”
“Doubtless.”
“Well, the demon that possessed me whispered me, on the contrary, to keep it secret. I feared what he would think of me.”
“An evil thought, indeed; but it is often a very innocent demon which puts such thoughts in the heart of a woman. — Proceed.”
“On the following day I was summoned to the parlor. I found there one of my neighbors of the Via Frattina at Rome, a young married lady, who regretted very much the loss of my society, because every evening we used to meet to talk and sing together. Behind her, close to the door, stood a man wrapped in a cloak, who seemed her servant. He did not turn toward me, but I turned toward him; he did not speak, yet I knew him. He was my unknown protector. The same thrilling sensation I had already experienced shot through my frame. I felt my whole being subdued by the power of this man. Had it not been for the bars which held me captive, I should certainly have followed him. Although enveloped closely in his mantle, rays of light seemed to shoot from him which dazzled me; profound as was his silence, it had sounds which spoke to me a harmonious language. I made a violent effort to subdue my feelings, and asked my friend who the man was who accompanied her. She did not know him. Her husband, who had purposed accompanying her, had been prevented by some engagement, and had brought this friend of his, a stranger to her, to be her companion.
“My friend was religious, and, seeing in a corner of the parlor a Madonna who had the reputation of possessing miraculous powers, she would not depart without offering up a prayer before her. While she was engaged in her devotions, the man entered the room, approached close to me, uncovered his face, and fixed his glowing eyes on mine. I waited for him to speak — my bosom heaved as if in expectation of his words, but he contented himself with putting his arms through the bars which separated us, and extended them above my head. Immediately an inexpressible feeling of delight seized on my whole frame. He smiled; I returned his smile, closing my eyes, which seemed weighed down by an overpowering languor, as I did so. Then, as if he had merely wished to assure himself of his power over me, he immediately retired. As he disappeared I recovered by degrees the use of my senses; but I was still under the dominion of this strange hallucination, when my friend, having finished her prayer, rose, and, embracing me, took her leave. When I was undressing at night, I found in my bosom a note containing these words; ‘In Rome, the man who loves a nun is punished by death. Will you kill him to whom you owe your life?’ From that moment the demon possessed me entirely, for I lied before Heaven, madame, in not confessing that I thought of this man much more than of my salvation!”
Lorenza, terrified at what she had disclosed, paused to discover what impression it had produced on the mild and intelligent countenance of the princess.
“Still, “replied the princess, firmly, “all this is not possession by the evil one; it is merely the result of an unhappy passion, and I must again repeat that such thoughts cannot be spoken of here, except to express regret for them.”
“Regret? madame,” cried Lorenza. “What! you behold me in tears at your feet, beseeching you to rescue me from the power of this fearful man, and yet you doubt my regret? Oh! I feel more than regret — I feel remorse.”
“And yet,” said Madame Louise, “up to this point—”
“Ah, madame, you have not yet heard all. Wait till I have finished, and then. I beseech you, judge me mercifully. Three days in the week we attended divine service in the chapel. The unknown was always present. I wished to resist him — I pretended that I was ill — I resolved not to go down. Alas for human weakness! — When the hour arrived, I descended with the nuns, as it were in despite of my own will. If he were not in the church when I entered, I had some moments of calm; but, as he drew near, I felt him coming. I could have said, ‘Now he is a hundred paces off; now he is at the door; now he is in the church,’ and that without even looking in the direction by which he came. Then, when he had reached his accustomed place, although my eyes had been fastened on my prayer-book, while I murmured the words before me, they turned involuntarily and rested on him. I could neither read nor pray; my whole looks — my whole thoughts — my whole being — were engrossed by this man. At first I could not look at him without fear; then I longed to see him; then my thoughts seemed to meet his; and often I saw him as in a dream in the night, and felt him pass beneath my window.
“The state of my mind did not escape the notice of my companions. The abbess was informed of it, and she in turn informed my parents. Three days before I was to pronounce my vows, my father, my mother, and my brother — the only relations I had in the world — entered my cell. They came ostensibly to bid me farewell, but I saw plainly that they had some other motive, and when my mother was left alone with me, she questioned me closely. And here the power of the evil one may clearly be seen; for instead of telling all, as I ought to have done, I denied everything obstinately.
“On the day when I was to take the veil, a strange struggle took place within me. I both dreaded and wished for the moment which was to give me up entirely to the service of God; and I felt that if the demon meditated a last effort to subdue me to his will, it would be at this solemn moment that he would attempt its execution.”
“And had that strange man never written to you since the first letter which you found in your bosom?” asked the princess.
“ Never, madame.”
“And at that time you had never spoken to him?”
“Never, except in thought.”
“Nor written to him?”
“Oh, never!”
“Proceed; you were at the day when you were to take the veil.”
“That day, as I have told your highness, I hoped was to end my tortures, and I was impatient for the ceremony. ‘When I belong to God entirely,’ I thought, ‘He will defend me against the demon who now wrestles with me for the possession of my soul.’ In the meantime the hour arrived. I descended to the church, pale, restless, but yet less agitated than usual. My father, my mother, my brother, my friend from the Via Frattina who had come before to see me, and many other of our friends, were there. The inhabitants of the neighboring villages also thronged the church, for the report had been spread that I was lovely, and a lovely victim, they say, is most acceptable to the Lord.
“The service began. I would have hastened it by my prayers; for he was not present, and in his absence I felt that I was mistress of myself. Already the priest had raised the crucifix before me, and I was just about to extend my arm toward it, when the trembling which invariably announced the approach of my persecutor seized me. Forced by an irresistible attraction, I turned round and saw him standing near the pulpit, gazing at me more fixedly than he had ever yet done. In vain I endeavored to keep my eyes on the priest — service, ceremony, prayers, faded from my sight. I believe I was questioned concerning the rite; I remember I was pulled by the arm to arouse me, but I tottered like some inanimate object trembling on its base. I was shown the scissors, from which a ray of sunlight was reflected back with dazzling brightness, but I did not even wink. Then I felt the cold steel on my neck, and heard its sharp point in my hair.
“From that moment it seemed to me as if all strength left me; my soul rushed from my body to meet his, and I fell motionless on the pavement; yet, strange to say, not like one who had fainted, but like one overcome by sleep. I heard a loud murmur, and almost immediately after became insensible. The ceremony was interrupted with frightful tumult.”
The princess clasped her hands with a gesture of compassion.
“Ah, madame, was not that terrible?” said Lorenza; “and is it not easy to see in such an event the intervention of the enemy of man?”
“Take care, my poor girl,” said the princess, in a tone of tenderness and pity; “I think you are too much disposed to attribute to miraculous power that which is simply the result of human weakness. On seeing that man you fainted, that is all. — Proceed.”
“Oh, madame, do not say so, or at least, wait till you have heard all before you judge. Had I fainted, should I not have come to myself in ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour, or an hour at most? Should I not have been surrounded by my sister nuns, and have resumed courage and faith on seeing them?”
“Doubtless,” said Madame Louise. “Well, was it not so?”
“Madame,” said Lorenza, in a low, hurried whisper, “when I was restored to consciousness it was night. I felt a rapid, jolting motion, which fatigued me, and I raised my head, thinking that I was under the vaulted roof of the chapel, or within the curtains of my cell. I saw rocks, trees, clouds; then I felt a warm breath fanning my cheeks. I thought that it was the sick nurse who was endeavoring to restore me, and I made an effort to thank her. Madame, my head was resting on the bosom of a man — that man my persecutor! I felt myself to ascertain whether I was really alive, or if I was awake. I could not restrain a cry of terror. I was dressed in white, and wore on my head a crown of white roses like a bride, or like a maiden dressed for the tomb.”
The princess uttered an exclamation of astonishment. Lorenza hid her face in her hands.
“The next day,” continued Lorenza, sobbing, “I made inquiries, and ascertained that it was Wednesday. For three days, therefore, I had remained insensible. I am ignorant of all that happened during that time.”