The Pocket Bible or Christian the Printer Part 25

"To Thee, my divine Master, I make my confession. Yes; the first time I saw that young girl at the house of Mary La Catelle, as I was engaged in teaching the children at her school, I was struck by the beauty of Hena Lebrenn, her modesty, her candor, her grace! Without knowing it, Mary La Catelle rendered still more profound the deep impression her friend had made upon me, by recounting to me her virtues, her goodness, the truthfulness of her character. Yes; I confess it; since that day, and despite my reason that said to me: 'Such a love is insane;' despite my faith that whispered to me: 'Such a love is guilty;' despite all, the mad pa.s.sion, the criminal pa.s.sion gained every day a more powerful sway over my being. Our meeting to-day, by unveiling to me without reserve that ingenuous and charming soul, has forever riveted my chains. I love her pa.s.sionately. I shall carry that love with me to the grave--"

"Impossible to leave my convent! I am the object of constant surveillance. Suspicion and hatred mount guard around me. How is Hena's family to be apprized of the constraint she is placed under? The days are pa.s.sing away. I shudder at the thought of the Mother Superior compelling her to p.r.o.nounce the vows, regardless of the observations I made to her that Hena's religious instruction is not yet sufficiently advanced. Were I sufficient of a wretch to listen to the voice of an execrable selfishness, I would rejoice at the thought that Hena, not being granted to me, would be none else's after her ordination as a nun.

No! Were it in my power, I would restore the unfortunate girl to her family. I would open the gates of the convent--"

"A family!--a wife!--children!--the tenderest of sentiments, the dearest, the most sacred that can elevate the soul to the height of Thy providential purposes, O, heavenly Father!--a family--that ineffable sanctuary of domestic virtues--is forever barred to me! A curse upon those who founded the first convents!

"And who is it that bars me from that sanctuary? Is it Thy will, O, G.o.d of justice--Thou who gavest a companion to man? No! No! Neither the Word revealed by the prophets, nor the Word of Thy Son, our Redeemer, ever said to Thy priests: 'You shall remain without the pale of mankind; you are above, or below, the duties imposed by the sacred mission of a.s.suring the happiness of a wife, raising children in the love and practice of right, and giving them the bread of the soul and the bread of the body!'

"The reformers, those heretics, they have remained faithful to Thy divine precepts. Their pastors are husbands and fathers."

"At this moment the noise and the songs of orgy penetrate to the very recesses of my cell. Mysteries of corruption and debauchery! The poor, ignorant people believe in the celibacy of the monks and the chast.i.ty of the nuns! Monks and nuns give themselves over to all manner of abominations!"

"Before ever I met Hena at the home of Mary La Catelle, Thou knowest, Oh, my G.o.d! I was seized with the justice of the reforms that were proclaimed in Thy name by the Lutherans. I was in communion with them, if not in the communion of lips, at least in that of the soul. The adoration of images and saints, the arrogance of the clergy, auricular confession which places infamous priests in possession of the secrets of the domestic hearth, the redemption of sins and souls for a money price, the traffic in indulgences--so many iniquities, so many outrages against morality, rendered me indignant. My soul opened to the light."

"I have had a strange dream!

"Having become a pastor of the reformed religion, I had married Hena. We lived in a village, located in a smiling valley. I gave lessons to the lads. Hena gathered the girls around her. G.o.d blessed our union. Two beautiful children drew closer the bonds of our mutual tenderness. Oh, sacred family joys! Hena, my beloved wife!"

"Fool that I am! Instead of allowing my thoughts to dwell upon that dream, could I but tear it out of my memory. Until now I had, at least, found some bitter comfort in the word--_Impossible_. I am a monk. An insurmountable obstacle separates me from Hena. My grief fed upon the most mournful of thoughts. Astray in a labyrinth from which there was no exit, no ray of hope penetrated to the depth of my despair.

"But now, after that tempting dream, I find myself saying:

"'And yet I could be happy. I could embrace the Evangelical religion, become one of its pastors, remain guiltless of faithlessness to my vow of devoting myself to the service of G.o.d, and yet wed Hena. The reform ministers are not held to celibacy.'"

"Mercy, Oh, my G.o.d! However intense the hope, it has evaporated. I have fallen back into the very depth of despair. In order to wed Hena, she must love me! Can her heart ever have beaten for a man clad in a monk's frock?"

"Who made me a monk? Could I, at the age of thirteen, be endowed with judgment enough to decide upon my vocation, and understand the significance of monastic vows? Was it not in mere obedience to my father that I entered as a novice the Order of the Augustinian monks? That was my first step in religious life. Subsequently, partly through la.s.situde, partly through habit, partly through submission, I proceeded to consecrate myself to this gloomy and sterile life. I bowed before the paternal will. Thus goes the world! To my elder brother freedom to choose his career and a wife; to him the hereditary patrimony; to him family joys; to me the cloister; to me the vows that shackle me to celibacy and poverty! Such are the iniquities of the Catholics."

"A slow fever undermines and consumes me. I am only the shadow of my former self.

"The religious education that every day I impart to Hena in the shadow of the confessional is torture to me. I have become so nervously sensitive that the sweet sound of my penitent's voice makes every fiber of my brain to twitch. Her breath, that occasionally reaches my face through the grating of the confessional, makes my forehead to be bathed in perspiration that burns, and then freezes my temples. I have not the courage to endure this torture any longer. I shall go crazy. To see, to feel near me the young girl the thought of whom fills my soul, and to be forever on guard, in order to restrain myself, to watch every single word I utter, its inflection, my hardly repressed sighs, the tears that her sorrows and my own draw from my eyes in order to conceal my secret from her! I am at the end of my strength. Fever and sleeplessness have used up my life. I can hardly drag myself from my cell to the church of the Augustinian monks. Call me to Your bosom, O Lord G.o.d! Have pity upon me. Mercy! Shorten my torments!"

"There is no longer any doubt. Hena will be forced to take the vows.

Yesterday I went to the convent of the Augustinian sisters to inform the Mother Superior that my weakened health commanded me absolute rest, and I could not continue the religious education of the young novice.

"'Is Hena Lebrenn at last in a condition to take the veil?' she asked me.

"'Not yet,' I answered.

"'In that case,' replied the Mother Superior, 'the Lord will enlighten her with His grace when it shall please Him. It is His concern. Obedient to the orders I have from my ecclesiastical superiors, the girl must take the veil within a week. Some other of our Augustinian brothers will take charge of completing the education of the novice, somehow or other.

It is the reverend Father Lefevre who sent her here. She has a brother who also was s.n.a.t.c.hed from perdition. The task was easy with him. So far from refusing to take the vows, he requested to be allowed to enter the Order of the Cordeliers, and has been taken to their convent and placed near Fra Girard. The father and mother are devil-possessed heretics. A curse upon them.'

"And thus, in violation of all law and equity the two children have been wrested from their family, and will evermore be separated from it. I would give my life to inform Christian Lebrenn and his wife of the fate that is reserved for his daughter. Alas, there is no means of seeing them."

"To-morrow Hena takes the vows at the convent of the Augustinian sisters. I was informed of it by the monk who replaced me as her catechiser. My G.o.d! The poor girl is lost forever to her family.

"And yet a glimmer of hope remains. The surveillance at first exercised over me becomes less rigorous, now that my life is ebbing away, and I hardly leave my couch. If this evening, to-night, I can leave the convent, I shall notify Monsieur Lebrenn of the imminent danger that threatens his daughter. Perchance, thanks to the influence of Robert Estienne, the Princess Marguerite may yet be able to obtain the freedom of Hena before she has taken the veil.

"My G.o.d! Vouchsafe my prayer and deliver me speedily of life. I shall ask to be buried in my frock, where I keep hidden these leaves, the only confidants of my love."

CHAPTER XVI.

THE TAVERN OF THE BLACK GRAPE.

"The Black Grape" was the device roughly painted on the escutcheon of a tavern that served for rendezvous to all sorts of bandits, who at that season infested the city of Paris. Even the archers of the patrol held in awe the semi-underground cut-throats' resort. They never ventured into the tortuous and dark alley at about the middle of which the old sign of the Black Grape, well known by all the thieves, creaked and swung to the wind. Three men, seated at a table in one of the nooks of that haunt, were discussing some important project, judging from the mystery in which they wrapped their conversation. Pichrocholle, the Mauvais-Garcon, and his pal Grippe-Minaud, the Tire-Laine, who, several months before, had attended the sale of indulgences in St. Dominic's Church, were two of the interlocutors in the consultation they were for some time holding with Josephin, the Franc-Taupin. Strange transformation! The adventurer, once a man of imperturbable good nature, was unrecognizable. His now somber and even savage physiognomy revealed a rooted grief. He left his pot of wine untouched. What stronger evidence of his grief!

"St. Cadouin!" said Pichrocholle with a tone and gesture of devout invocation. "We are here alone. You can now tell us what you want of us, Josephin."

"Pichrocholle, I met you in the war--"

"Yes, I was an arquebusier in the company of Monsieur Monluc. I got tired of killing in battle, and without profit to myself, Italians, Spaniards, Swiss and Flemings, whom I did not know, and decided to kill for cash Frenchmen whom I did know. I became a Mauvais-Garcon. I now place my dagger and my sword at the service of whoever pays me. t.i.t for tat."

"'Tis but to be a soldier, only in another manner," explained Grippe-Minaud. "But this trade requires a certain courage that I do not possess. I prefer to tackle honest bourgeois on their way home at night without any other weapon than--their lanthorns."

"Pichrocholle," proceeded the Franc-Taupin, "I saved your life at the battle of Marignan. I extricated you from two lansquenets, who, but for my help, would have put you through a disagreeable quarter of an hour. I believe I bore myself as a true comrade."

"St. Cadouin! Do you take me for an ingrate? If you have any service to ask of me, speak freely without fear of a refusal."

"When I ran across you a few minutes ago, it occurred to me you were the man I needed--"

"Is it some enemy you wish to rid yourself of? All you have to do is to place me before him."