The Frenchman smiled.
"My sister, Doña Helena, as is generally the case in convents, has chosen one of her companions, whom she loves more than the others, and made her her intimate friend. Is such the case, madam?"
"How do you know it?"
He continued; with a smile—
"Now, this young lady, so beloved not only by Helena but by you, madam, and all your community, is a gentle, kind, loving girl, who, in consequence of a great misfortune, became insane, but whom your tender care has restored to reason. Still, you keep the latter fact a profound secret, before all from her guardian, who, not contented with having stripped her of her fortune, now insists of robbing her of her happiness by forcing her to marry him."
"Señor, señor," the abbess exclaimed, as she rose from her seat, with an astonishment blended with terror, "who are you that you know so many things of which I believed the whole world ignorant?"
"Who am I, madam? the brother of Helena, that is to say, a man in whom you can place the most entire confidence. Hence permit me to proceed."
The abbess, still suffering from extreme agitation, sat down again.
"Go on, caballero," she said.
"The guardian of Doña Anita, either that he has suspicion, or for some other motive, wrote to you yesterday, ordering you to prepare her to marry him within twenty-four hours. Since the receipt of this fatal letter, Doña Anita has been plunged in the deepest despair, a despair further heightened by the sudden departure of my sister, the only friend in whose arms she can safely reveal her heart's secrets. But you, madam, who are so holy and good, are aware that God can at his pleasure confound the projects of the wicked, and change wormwood into honey. Did you not receive a visit yesterday from Don Serapio de la Ronda?"