The Spell of Belgium

by Isabel Anderson

At the moment he pronounced these words, expressed with such profound despair, he arrived at the Canal St. Jean, not far from the river. At that time, there stood at this place a water mill. Suddenly the noise of the water pouring over the wheel attracted his attention, and drew him from his somber reverie. He raised his head, his eyes sparkled, the expression of his features became nearly radiant, his steps were firmer, and with a species of cruel joy he directed himself towards the canal. It could not be doubted that the unfortunate young man wished to put an end to his sufferings, which he believed would terminate only with his life. He was already on the banks of the Scheldt. One step farther and he would have disappeared in the waves, when suddenly the bells of the city recommenced their funeral knell.

These lugubrious sounds had a singular effect upon his spirit. He recoiled with fright, his thoughts suddenly changed. He was astonished to think he had contemplated committing a crime to put an end to his troubles. He turned away and was soon far from the place where he had so nearly put into execution his fatal project. A quarter of an hour after, he was near the church of St. André, calmer, but still despairing.

“Ungrateful,” he said to himself, “to commit a crime that would have brought affliction upon the last days, and covered with shame the white hairs of the worthy old man, your father, who loves you so tenderly, and has only yourself in the world. God knows if he would have survived your suicide, if sorrow would not have brought him to the grave. And why? For a woman that you have loved, that you still love more than words can express! How do you know she merits your love? And has she ever loved you? Foolish to doubt! She still loves you—Oh, no! she has lost all interest in you and treats you as if there never existed the least sympathetic sentiment between you.”

Saying this, he turned, stopped, and appeared to consider anew whether he should return to the canal. It was the last attempt of the spirit of evil upon his heart enfeebled by suffering. Happily his good angel watched over him and gave him strength to resist.

After a moment of hesitation he continued his route, murmuring, “But no, that cannot be; she cannot have forgotten me, she must love me yet—Katharina, this angel with looks so pure, voice so sweet, expression so celestial, thoughts so candid, she could never deceive me. For her I would give my life. She cannot abandon me thus; but why does she not let me hear from her? She must realize that her silence and this uncertainty make me suffer torments.”

Thus reasoning, by turns filled with hope and despair, he gradually approached the principal entrance of the church. Divine service had long since commenced. The majestic tones of the organ rang through the vaulted roof, floating over the heads of the kneeling faithful. He entered more through curiosity and to distract his grief, than through piety, or to pray for the souls of the dead, as he felt that in his distracted state of mind it would be impossible for him to elevate his thoughts above the earth, and to invoke God with any other intention than that of seeing his well beloved.

The church of St. André at this period was a remarkable edifice, built in the Gothic style, and of an imposing appearance. Its origin was as follows: In 1519 the Augustinian monks possessed on this spot a magnificent cloister from which the street takes its name. Several of these friars, being suspected of heresy, and of following the example of their colleague, the famous monk of Württemberg, were expelled from the city. The cloister was demolished and sold, with the exception of the church that the order was building, which was finished with the authorization of Pope Adrian VI, under the invocation of St. André. The spectacle which the interior of the church presented at this moment was not calculated to inspire our hero with less sorrowful thoughts or more consoling reflections. Everything there spoke of death, eternity and purgatory. The nave was draped with black; upon all sides, upon the pillars, on the altar, on the candelabra, were funeral emblems, death’s heads and cross bones, and skeletons, speaking of punishments and expiations of the other life. He felt ill at ease in the midst of all these lugubrious decorations. This colossal edifice, partially lighted by innumerable wax candles, this compact crowd kneeling on the marble and buried in prayer, these gigantic columns hidden under the funeral drapings, and, more than all, the mournful strains of the organ and the solemn character of the chants, saddened him and filled him with an indefinable and mysterious fear.

All this only served to recall more vividly his own situation, and he felt he could no longer endure it. As he advanced towards another door of the church he noticed in the shade of a pillar a female who, while appearing to pray with fervour, watched all his movements and endeavoured to attract his attention. Before her two persons were kneeling, one a young girl with an angelic countenance, whose elegant figure was not entirely hidden by the ample folds of her black silk cloak. He recognized her whose silence had made him suffer so cruelly. The other, an old man whose features were strongly marked with sternness and severity, was the father of Katharina. The female who had at first attracted his attention was the servant, whose eloquent gestures had caused to disappear, as if by enchantment, the sorrow and discouragement of the desolate lover, who thought no more of leaving the church. Drawing his cloak around him, so as to conceal as much as possible his features, he placed himself behind the persons upon whom all his thoughts were concentrated, and decided to wait until the close of the services, hoping he should succeed in learning something of the inexplicable conduct of the daughter of the banker. The service was finished, the last modulations of the organ had died away, when the old man and his daughter prepared to leave the church.

The young man followed as near as possible, without being noticed. Near the door he felt some one press his arm and at the same instant put in his hand a letter, which he took without pronouncing a word. He continued to follow the three persons instinctively. It was only after seeing them enter their dwelling and close the door that he thought of returning home.