She dropped on her knees as she spoke, and all in the room followed her example. (Nuns have a peculiar sudden fashion of doing this, unattainable without practice. I don't believe I could do it myself now, without falling over on my nose.) It is very much to be hoped that the Blessed Mary does not know the way in which her name is treated in this world, and how to her are attributed the titles which belong only to her Son. But it was all right in my eyes at that time, and when I heard our Lord's mother addressed as the Morning Star, the Gate of Heaven, the Refuge of sinners, etc., I responded "Ora pro nobis" with undoubting faith.
We were still on our knees, when we heard the arrival of a numerous cavalcade before the house, and presently a loud knocking at the gate. Immediately the portress was sent to open it, and we all formed in procession as when we entered Church; the younger sisters at the head and the Superior last. On this occasion she led Amabel and myself by the hand.
Our parlor where the nuns received their guests was a large room sparely furnished with a few very hard chairs, and a most ghastly picture of the death of St. Francis. About one-third of this room was shut off by a grille or grate, as is usual in such places, and behind this was our station.
The outer room was occupied by the Bishop, and two or three attendant priests. Mon seignor was a short, stout man, with rather rebellious white hair, and an expression of a kind of pompous fussiness. He was speaking in a loud and somewhat angry tone to one of his attendants, and I caught the words—
"Intentional disrespect—make an example—perverse rebellious woman—" all of which seemed to come as it were from the depths of his stomach.
We entered slowly, the sisters taking their places with folded hands and down-cast eyes, with as little apparent trepidation as if about to assist at any ordinary ceremony. The Bishop turned sharply around, and spoke before the Abbess had time to advance to the grating.
"So madame! This is the way you receive your Bishop! Did I not send a messenger to acquaint you with my coming? Why then were you not here, prepared to receive me with due respect?"
"Mon seignor!" answered the Superior calmly. "It is not according to the rules of our house for us to await visitors in the parlor. I am bound by those rules, and if our Holy Father the Pope were to honor us with a visit, I would do no otherwise."
The Superior had the best of it, for a nun is bound to obey the "constitutions" of her house to the smallest article, as the Bishop knew very well. But of course, that did not make him feel any more amiable. He was evidently getting ready for a crushing reply, adjusting meantime his glasses on his nose, for he was very short-sighted; but he rather spoiled the effect by getting into difficulties with the string, which held them around his neck. At last however, the glasses were in their place, and he prepared to open his Episcopal batteries.
"Madame!" he began in the sternest tone—but there he stopped. He could now see Mother Superior's face, which I presume he was unable to do before. I never saw so sudden a change. His face seemed to soften and grow youthful in a moment; his lip quivered with a smile, which quite transformed him. He spoke in a very different tone from that in which he began.