Rodolph to Clémence.
The thirteenth of January! Now a doubly sinister anniversary! Dearest, we have lost her for ever! All is over,—ended all. It is true, then, that there is a horrid pleasure in relating a terrible grief.
Yesterday I was complaining of the necessity that kept you from me; to-day, Clémence, I congratulate myself that you are not here,—you would have suffered too much. This morning I was in a light slumber, and was awakened by the sound of bells. I started in affright; it seemed to me a funereal sound,—a knell! In fact, our daughter is dead,—dead to us! And from to-day, Clémence, you must begin to wear her mourning in your heart, a heart always so maternally disposed towards her. Whether our child be buried beneath the marble of the tomb or the vault of the cloister, what is the difference to us? Hardly eighteen years of age, yet dead to the world!
At noon the profession took place, with solemn pomp, and I was present, concealed behind the curtains of our pew. I felt, but even with greater intensity, all the poignant emotion we underwent at her novitiate. How strange! She is adored! And they believe, universally, that she was attracted to a religious life by an irresistible vocation; and yet whilst they believed it was a happy event for her, an overwhelming sadness weighed down the spectators. There appeared in the very air, as it were, a doleful foreboding, and it was founded, if only half realised.
The profession terminated, they led our child into the chapter-room, where the nomination of the new abbess was to take place, and, thanks to my sovereign privilege, I went into this room to await Fleur-de-Marie's return to the choir. She soon entered; her emotion and weakness were so excessive that two of the sisters supported her. I was alarmed, less at her paleness and the great change in her features, than at the peculiar expression of her smile, which seemed to me imprinted with a kind of secret satisfaction.
Clémence, I say to you, perhaps we may very soon require all our courage,—I feel within myself that our child is mortally smitten. May Heaven grant that I am deceived, and may my presentiments arise only from the despairing sadness which this melancholy spectacle has inspired!
Fleur-de-Marie entered the chapter-room, all the stalls were filled by the nuns. She went modestly to place herself last on the left-hand side, still leaning on the arm of one of the sisters, for she yet appeared very weak.
The Princess Juliana was seated at the end of the apartment, with the grand prioress on one side and another dignitary on the other, holding in her hand the golden crozier, the symbol of abbatial authority. There was profound silence; and then the lady abbess rose, took the crozier in her hand, and said, in a voice of great emotion:
"My dear daughters, my great age compels me to confide to younger hands this emblem of my spiritual power," and she pointed to the crozier. "I am authorised by a bull of our holy father; I will, therefore, present to the benediction of monseigneur the Archbishop of Oppenheim, and to the approbation of his royal highness the grand duke our sovereign, whosoever of my dear daughters shall be pointed out by you to succeed me. Our grand prioress will inform you of the result of the election, and she who has been chosen will receive my crozier and ring."
I did not take my eyes off my daughter. Standing up in her stall, her two hands folded over her bosom, her eyes cast down, and half covered by her white veil and the long folds of her black gown, she was pensive and motionless, not supposing for a moment that she would herself be elected, as this fact had been communicated by the abbess to no one but myself.