"But the voices of your sisters call you to it."
"Permit me, holy mother, to make here on my knees a solemn confession; my sisters will see, and you also, holy mother, that the most humble condition is not humble enough for me."
"Your modesty misleads you my dear daughter," said the superior, with kindness, believing, in fact, that the unfortunate child was yielding to a feeling of exaggerated modesty; but I, I divined those confessions which Fleur-de-Marie was about to make. Dazed with horror, I cried out in a supplicating voice, "My child I conjure—"
At these words, to tell you, my friend all that I read in the profound look which Fleur-de Marie cast upon me, would be impossible. As you see directly, she had understood me—yes, she had understood that I should partake in the shame of this horrible revelation; she understood that, after such a revelation, I might be accused of falsehood, for I had a ways left it to be believed that Fleur-de-Marie had never left her mother.
At this thought the poor child believed herself guilty of the blackest ingratitude toward me. She had not strength to go on—she was silent, and held down her head from exhaustion.
"Yes once again, my dear daughter," resumed the abbess, "your modesty deceives you; the unanimity of your sisters' choice proves to you how worthy you are to take my place. If you have taken part in the pleasures of the world, your renouncing these pleasures is but the more meritorious. It is not her Royal Highness Princess Amelia who is chosen—it is Sister Amelia. For us, your life began when you entered this house of the Lord, and it is this example and holy life which we recompense. I say to you, moreover, my dear daughter, that if before entering this retreat your life had been as guilty as it has been, on the contrary, pure and praiseworthy, that the angelic virtues of which you have given us the example since your abode here would expiate and redeem, in the eyes of the Lord, any past life, however guilty it may have been. After this, my daughter, judge if your modesty ought not to be assured."
These words of the abbess were the more precious to Fleur-de-Marie, inasmuch as she believed the past ineffaceable. Unfortunately, this scene had deeply distressed her, and, though she affected calmness and firmness, it seemed to me that her countenance changed in an alarming manner. Twice she groaned as she passed her poor emaciated hand over her forehead.
"I think I have convinced you, my dear daughter," resumed the Princess Juliana, "and you would not cause your sisters a severe pain by refusing this mark of their conndence and their affection."
"No, holy mother," said she, with an expression which struck me, and with a voice becoming weaker and weaker, "I now think I may except it. But, as I feel greatly fatigued and somewhat ill, if you will permit it, holy mother, the ceremony of my consecration shall not take place for a few days."
"It shall be as you desire, my dear daughter; but while we wait till your office shall be blessed and consecrated, take this ring: come to your place; our dear sisters will render you their homage, according to the rules."