“I understand you, daughter,” interrupted the abbess. “Alas! how much wickedness is engendered in this world by the sensual, fleshly passion which mortals denominate love! But is the murderer detected?”
“The murderer was arrested immediately after the perpetration of the crime,” responded Ursula; “and at this moment he is a prisoner in the dungeon of the palace.”
“Who is the lost man that has perpetrated such a dreadful crime?” demanded the abbess, again crossing herself.
“Signor Wagner himself, holy mother,” was the reply.
“The pious Duke Cosmo bequeathed gold to this institution,” said the abbess, “that masses might be offered up for the souls of those who fall beneath the weapon of the assassin. See that the lamented prince’s instructions be not neglected in this instance, Ursula.”
“It was to remind your ladyship of this duty that I ventured to break upon your privacy,” returned the nun, who then withdrew.
The abbess approached Nisida, and touched her upon the shoulder to intimate to her that they were again alone together.
She had drawn down her veil, and was leaning her forehead against one of the iron bars which protected the window—apparently in a mood of deep thought.
When the abbess touched her, she started abruptly round—then, pressing the superior’s hand with convulsive violence, hurried from the room.
The old porteress presented the alms-box as she opened the gate of the convent; but Nisida pushed it rudely aside, and hurried down the steps as if she were escaping from a lazar-house, rather than issuing from a monastic institution.