“‘Genevra Sfonza.’
“‘Genevra,’ she absently repeated, ‘what a singular coincidence; it was under that name she took the veil and left the world; yes, she was a holy child; one of the few pure spirits which seem to emanate immediately from the bosom of our Heavenly Father: may she rest in peace, and her soul be made happy in the true faith.’
“She crossed herself; her lips moved: perhaps she murmured a prayer for her favorite.
“‘Who was the young lady of whom you spoke, mother Cecilia?’ inquired Madame Bonni.
“‘She was Signorina Lavona Carraggi, daughter of Prince Carraggi, one of the oldest and noblest families in Naples: from early infancy she was ever pious, very attentive to her devotional exercises, and absented herself, as much as her high station would permit, from the vanities of the world: at sixteen, her father, yielding to her solicitations, consented she should take the white veil, which she did, but died of consumption within the first year of her noviciate; but although she is gone from us for ever, her memory still lives in the hearts of the sisterhood, by whom she was tenderly beloved, and with justice, too, for surely she was an admirable being.’
“‘I heard that it was some disappointment in an affair of the heart, which induced the Lady Lavona to leave the world,’ observed Madame Bonni.
“‘Ah, no!’ replied the Abbess, with a pious shudder at the frightful imputation upon the character of her deceased favorite; ‘that is mere report; she left the world for the solitude of the cloister, because she knew that its vanities and frivolities are incompatible with the practice of true religion, and she wished to become worthy of being the bride of Christ.’
“‘What a mistaken notion of religion,’ thought I, as I listened; ‘surely, the simple fact that the beneficent Creator has placed us here, sufficiently demonstrates that the world of society is our proper sphere of action, and not the seclusion and austerities of a convent.’
“‘How long has the young lady been dead?’ asked Madame.
“‘It is now a year ago: she died on the Eve of the Annunciation, at midnight; while she was expiring in her cell, the nuns were celebrating midnight mass in the chapel; suddenly her apparition appeared unto them, standing in their midst, and then as suddenly vanished away; by this miracle they knew that her spirit had departed, and it would seem as if, lingering on the verge of eternity, it came back to take a last farewell of that sisterhood by whom she was so much beloved. Upon going to her cell, I found her quite dead, sustained in the arms of the nun who nursed her. She is buried in the garden of the convent, and on reception days numerous visitors come to see her grave.’