The vow was now pronounced, and during that part of the service consisting of question and response, sung by the nuns of St Clare, the veil was to be laid on Aurelia. Already they had taken the myrtles and roses from her head, and were in the act of cutting off her long and luxuriant locks, when an extraordinary tumult arose in the church. I remarked how the people who stood in the aisles were thrust and driven about. Many of them, too, were violently knocked down, and the disturbance made its way always nearer and nearer, till it arrived at the centre of the church, before which time I could not distinguish the cause.
With the most furious looks and gestures, striking with his clenched fists at all who stood in his way, and still pressing forward, there now appeared a half-naked man, with the rags of a Capuchin dress hung about his body! At the first glance, I recognized my diabolical double; but already at the moment when, anticipating some horrible event, I was in the act of leaving the gallery to throw myself in his way, the horrible wretch had leaped over the railing of the altar. The terrified nuns shrieked and dispersed, but the Abbess undauntedly held Aurelia firmly clasped in her arms. "Ha, ha, ha!" screamed the madman in a thrilling tone, "would'st thou rob me of my Princess?—Ha, ha, ha!—The Princess is my bride, my bride!"
With these words he tore the fainting Aurelia from the Abbess, and with incredible quickness pulled out a stiletto, elevated it high over her head, and then plunged it into her heart, so that the blood sprung in torrents from the wound.—"Hurrah!—hurrah!" cried the maniac; "now have I won my bride—have won the Princess!" With these words he rushed through the private grating behind the altar, and disappeared.
The church-aisles and vaults reverberated with the deafening shrieks of the nuns, and outcries of the people.—"Murder!—Murder at the altar of the Lord!" cried they, crowding to the spot.
"Watch all the gates of the convent, that the murderer may not escape!" cried Leonardus, in a loud voice; and many accordingly left the church, seizing the staves and crosiers that had been used in the procession, and rushing after the monster through the aisles of the convent.
All was the transaction of a moment, and soon after, I was kneeling beside Aurelia, the nuns having, as well as they could, bound up her wound, while others assisted the now fainting Abbess.
"Sancta Rosalia, ora pro nobis!" I heard these words spoken near me in a powerful and steadfast voice; and all who yet remained in the church cried out, "A miracle!—A miracle!—She is indeed a martyr! Sancta Rosalia, ora pro nobis!"
I looked up, the old painter stood near, but with a mild earnestness on his features, precisely as when he had appeared to me in the prison. It seemed to me already as if every earthly tie was broken. I felt no pain at the fate of Aurelia, nor could I now experience any apprehension or horror from the apparition of the painter. It seemed, on the contrary, as if the mysterious nets, by which the powers of hell had so long held me entangled, were now completely dissolved and broken.
"A miracle!—A miracle!" shouted again all the people. "Do you see the old man in the violet-coloured mantle? He has descended out of the picture over the high altar!—I saw it!"
"I too!"—"And I too!" cried many confused voices, till again all fell upon their knees, and the tumult subsided into the murmur of zealous prayer, interrupted occasionally by violent sobbing and weeping.