Kneeling at the casement of a postulant’s cell, Laura de Nazianzi recalled that serene, and just thus had she often planned must dawn her bridal day!
Beyond the cruciform flower-beds, and the cloister wall, soared the Blue Jesus, the storied windows of its lofty galleries aglow with light.
“Most gracious Jesus. Help me to forget. For my heart aches. Uphold me now.”
But to forget to-day, was well-nigh she knew impossible....
Once it seemed she caught the sound of splendid music from the direction of the Park, but it was too early for music yet. Away in the palace, the Princess Elsie must be already astir ... in her peignoir, perhaps? The bridal-garment unfolded upon the bed: But no; it was said the bed indeed was where usually her Royal-Highness’ dogs....
With a long and very involuntary sigh, she began to sweep, and put in some order, her room.
How forlorn her cornette looked upon her prie-Dieu! And, oh, how stern, and “old”!
Would an impulse to bend it slightly but only so, so slightly, to an angle to suit her face, be attended, later, by remorse?
“Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper vergini, beato Michaeli Archangelo (et tibi Pater), quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere,” she entreated, reposing her chin in meditation, upon the handle of her broom.
The bluish shadow of a cypress-tree, on the empty wall, fascinated her as few pictures had.