I was still weak, so weak that I could hardly walk when they obliged me to go into the kitchen to clean vegetables and do other light work, and as soon as I had sufficient strength, to milk the cows, and take the care of the milk. They punished me every day, in accordance with the Bishop's order, and sometimes, I thought, more than he intended. I wore thorns on my head, and peas in my shoes, was whipped and pinched, burnt with hot irons, and made to crawl through the underground passage I have before described. In short, I was tortured and punished in every possible way, until I was weary of my life. Still they were careful not to go so far as to disable me from work. They did not care how much I suffered, if I only performed my daily task.
There was an underground passage leading from the nunnery to a place which they called, "Providence," in the south part of the city. I do not know whether it is a school, or a convent, or what it is, but I think it must be some distance, from what I heard said about it. The priest often spoke of sending me there, but for some reason, he did not make me go. Still the frequent reference to what I so much dreaded, kept me in constant apprehension and alarm. I have heard the priest say that underground passages extended from the convent in every direction, for a distance of five miles; and I have reason to believe the statement is true. But these reasons I may not attempt to give. There are things that may not even be alluded to, and if it were possible to speak of them, who would believe the story?
CHAPTER XXIV. — RESOLVES TO ESCAPE.
As summer approached, I expected to be sent to the farm again, but for some reason I was still employed in the kitchen. Yet I could not keep my mind upon my work. The one great object of my life; the subject that continually pressed upon my mind was the momentous question, how shall I escape? The dreaded December was rapidly approaching. To some it would bring a joyous festival, but to me, the black veil and a life long imprisonment. Once within those dreary walls, and I might as well hope to escape from the grave. Such are the arrangements, there is no chance for a nun to escape unless she is promoted to the office of Abbess or Superior. Of course, but few of them can hope for this, especially, if they are not contented; and certainly, in my case there was not the least reason to expect anything of the kind. Knowing these facts, with the horrors of the Secret Cloister ever before me, I felt some days as though on the verge of madness. Before the nuns take the black veil, and enter this tomb for the living, they are put into a room by themselves, called the forbidden closet, where they spend six months in studying the Black Book. Perchance, the reader will remember that when I first came to this nunnery, I was taken by the door-tender to this forbidden closet, and permitted to look in upon the wretched inmates. From that time I always had the greatest horror of that room. I was never allowed to enter it, and in fact never wished to do so, but I have heard the most agonizing groans from those within, and sometimes I have heard them laugh. Not a natural, hearty laugh, however, such as we hear from the gay and happy, but a strange, terrible, sound which I cannot describe, and which sent a thrill of terror through my frame, and seemed to chill the very blood in my veins.
I have heard the priests say, when conversing with each other, while I was tidying their room, that many of these nuns lose their reason while studying the Black Book. I can well believe this, for never in my life did I ever witness an expression of such unspeakable, unmitigated anguish, such helpless and utter despair as I saw upon the faces of those nuns. And well they may despair. Kept under lock and key, their windows barred, and no air admitted to the room except what comes through the iron grate of their windows from other apartments; compelled to study, I know not what; with no hope of the least mitigation of their sufferings, or relaxation of the stringent rules that bind them; no prospect before them but a life-long imprisonment; what have they to hope for? Surely, death and the grave are the only things to which they can look forward with the least degree of satisfaction.
Those nuns selected for this Secret Cloister are generally the fairest, the most beautiful of the whole number. I used to see them in the chapel, and some of them were very handsome. They dressed like the other nuns, and always looked sad and broken hearted, but were not pale and thin like the rest of us. I am sure they were not kept upon short allowance as the others were, and starvation was not one of their punishments, whatever else they might endure. The plain looking girls were always selected to work in the kitchen, and do the drudgery about the house. How often have I thanked God for my plain face! But for that, I might not have been kept in the kitchen so long, and thus found means to escape which I certainly could not have found elsewhere.
With all my watching, and planning I did not find an opportunity to get away till June. I then, succeeded in getting outside the convent yard one evening between eight and nine o'clock. How I got there, is a secret I shall never reveal. A few yards from the gate I was stopped by one of the guard at the Barrack, who asked where I was going. "To visit a sick woman," I promptly replied, and he let me pass. Soon after this, before my heart ceased to flutter, I thought I heard some one running after me. My resolution was at once taken. I would never be caught and carried back alive. My fate was at last, I thought, in my own hands. Better die at once than to be chained like a guilty criminal, and suffer as I had done before. Blame me not gentle reader, when I tell you that I stood upon the bank of the river with exultant joy; and, as I pursued my way along the tow-path, ready to spring into the water on the first indication of danger, I rejoiced over the disappointment of my pursuers in losing a servant who had done them so good service. At a little distance I saw a ferry boat, but when I asked the captain to carry me over the river, he refused. He was, probably, afraid of the police and a fine, for no one can assist a run-away nun with impunity, if caught in the act. He directed me, however, to the owner of the boat, who said I could go if the captain was willing to carry me. I knew very well that he would not, and I took my place in the boat as though I had a perfect right to it.
We were almost across the river, when the captain saw me, and gave orders to turn back the boat, and leave me on the shore from whence we started. From his appearance I thought we were pursued, and I was not mistaken. Five priests were following us in another boat, and they too, turned back, and reached the shore almost as soon as we did. I left the boat and ran for my life. I was now sure that I was pursued; there could be no doubt of that, for the sound of footsteps behind me came distinct to my ear. At a little distance stood a small, white house. Could I not reach it? Would not the people protect me? The thought gave me courage, and I renewed my efforts. Nearer came the footsteps, but I reached the house, and without knocking, or asking permission, I sprang through the door.