The Convent of the Bernardines is situated but a short distance from the Paseo de Bucareli. Not one of the religious communities for women scattered over Mexico is so rich as this one, for the kings of Spain and nobles of the highest rank gave it large endowments, which, in the course of time, have grown into an immense fortune.
The vast site occupied by the Convent of the Bernardines, the thick walls that surround it, and the numerous domes that crown it, sufficiently indicate the importance it enjoys at the present day.
Like all the Mexican convents, and especially that at San Francisco, to which it bears a distant resemblance, the Convent of the Bernardines is defended by thick walls, flanked by massive buttresses, which give it the appearance of a fortress. Still the peaceful belfries, and their cupolas of enamelled porcelain covering so many chapels, allow the pious destination of the edifice to be recognized. An immense paved court leads to the principal chapel, which is adorned with a luxury that it would be difficult to form an idea of in our sceptical Europe.
Behind this first court is the space reserved for the nuns, consisting of immense cloisters, adorned with pictures by old masters, and white jasper basins from which limpid fountains rise. Next come immense huertas with umbrageous walks, wide courtyards, a rich and valuable library in which the scientific wealth of Mexico lies buried, eight spacious, comfortable, and airy dormitories, four hundred cells for the nuns, and a refectory in which four hundred guests can sit without crowding.
On the day when we introduce the reader into the Convent of the Bernardines, at about five in the evening, three persons, collected in a leafy arbour, almost at the end of the garden, were talking together with considerable animation.
Of these persons, one, the eldest, was a nun, while the other two, girls of from sixteen to eighteen years of age, wore the garb of novices.
The first was the Mother Superior of the convent, a lady of about fifty years of age, with delicate and aristocratic features, gentle manners, and noble and majestic demeanour, whose face displayed kindness and intelligence.
The second was Doña Anita; we will not draw her portrait, for the reader has long been acquainted with her.[1] The poor girl, however, was pale and white as a corpse, her fever-parched eyes were not easy, fixed on any object, and she looked about her hurriedly and desperately.
The third was Doña Helena Rallier, a light-haired, blue-eyed girl, with a saucy look, whose velvety cheeks, and noble and well-defined features, revealed the candour and innocence of youth, combined with the laughing expressions of a boarder spoiled by an indulgent governess.
Doña Helena was standing a little outside the arbour, leaning against a tree, and seemed like a vigilant sentry carefully watching lest the conversation between the Mother Superior and her companion should be disturbed.