while partaking of them the two abbesses talked together, of cloister affairs, and of the wicked world; and the Devil, with a deep sigh, turned the discourse to Clara’s accident. Clara, who, on account of her rank, was the pet-lamb of the cloister, stood near the abbess, and laughed beneath her veil. Faustus observed this, and, looking at her, really thought he had never seen a more charming rogue wear the sacred veil. The Devil at length gave the conversation a serious turn, and led the abbess to conclude that he had something weighty to confide to her.
Abbess (to Clara). You may go, my lamb, to the nuns in the garden, and divert yourself with them; I will send you out some sweetmeats, so that you may celebrate the coming of our venerable sister.
Clara bounded away. After a few words, which the Devil uttered in a disturbed and thoughtful kind of tone, so that he might thereby arouse the curiosity of the abbess, he came to the point.
Devil. Ah, dear sister, how much do I pity
you! It is true, and that ought in some degree to comfort you, that the whole city and the entire district are convinced of your holiness, your piety, and the strictness of your discipline. In a word, you possess all the virtues requisite for a bride of heaven. But, alas, the world will be the world still; and the Fiend often infuses evil thoughts into the minds of worldly men, so that through them he may disturb those saints who are thorns in his side. No, no; the wicked Devil cannot bear that you should bring up your lambs in untainted purity. I pity you, as I said before, and still more the little innocents who are at present confided to your care. What will become of them when they lose you?
Abbess. Kind sister, be of good cheer; though I am old, I am yet, thanks to Heaven, sound and hearty, and the little inconveniences which attend a uniform course of devotion and penitence prolong life rather than shorten it. So, at least, the physician of the convent tells me when I complain to him.
The Devil looked at her attentively.
“Have you, then, had no anticipation of what is hanging over your head? no warning vision? Has nothing occurred in the convent to make you look forward to the future with anxiety? It is customary for pious souls to be informed by certain signs when any disaster menaces them.”
Abbess. You frighten me so, that I tremble in my whole body. But let me reflect;—yes, yes, I am very restless, and dream of raw heads and bloody bones; and some days ago—ah, yes!—that certainly was a sign and a warning—some few days ago I went with my lap-dog, which you see there, to walk in the garden. I was alone; the nuns were at some distance, telling stories beneath the linden-trees. All at once the gardener’s great mastiff sprung upon Piety, for that is the name of my pet. I shuddered from head to foot, and crossed myself again and again; but that would avail nothing. At last I struck at the hideous brute with my staff,—yes, I struck with all my strength the filthy hound who would thus profane the cloister; and I continued striking until the staff, which his reverence the Archbishop
delivered to me upon my consecration as abbess, broke in two. Was that a sign or a warning, think ye?