"Yes, yes; I am more wicked than you imagine. The more light I receive from God, the deeper I seem to sink into the darkness; the more He heaps blessings upon me, the more ungrateful I am toward Him."
"God is infinitely merciful, señorita."
"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 façade 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 façade, 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 glass could be seen the stiff image of some saint with metal aureole, or the sad anguished face of an Ecce-Homo.
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 cassock and hood, bending forward, with their ears to the window, reflecting in their frowning faces and negligent attitude the weariness which they felt; others kept theirs hermetically sealed, and scarcely could any one in passing 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 spaces 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 principal 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 señorita 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 circumstance 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 señoras: men were few. The multitude 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 mass. 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 space 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:—