Transcript

Chapter XIV · The White Sister

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Chapter fourteen of The White Sister. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox
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recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
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visit LibriVox dot org. Read by Marie Christian. The White Sister by F.
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Marion Crawford, Chapter fourteen. It was raining when Giovanni and Monseigneur Sara
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Sineska rang at the door of the convent. The Mother Superior had ordered two
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rush bottomed chairs to be brought out of the hall and placed under the shelter
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of the cloister, just on one side of the glass door. For sister.
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Giovanna was to receive a visit, as she explained from an officer who
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had known her father and had business with her. Such things had happened before
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in the community, and the lay sister was not surprised. She carried the
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chairs out and set them in what she considered a proper position, about two
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yards apart, in both facing the garden. The rain fell softly and steadily.
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The sky was of an even dove gray, and the smell of the
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damp earth and the early spring flowers filled the cloister. Giovanni was a soldier
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and would impose his military punctuality upon the prelate, who, like most churchmen,
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had a clearer idea of eternity than of definite time. As the convent
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clock was striking, therefore, the Mother Superior and Sister Giovanna came down the
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narrow stairs, for they had been together a quarter of an hour, though
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they had scarcely exchanged half a dozen words. They walked slowly round under the
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vaulted cloister, the mother on the right, the nun on the left,
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according to the rigid custom, and they had just turned the last corner and
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were in sight of the two chairs when the glass door opened. Monseigneur Sara
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Sineska's voice was heard. Remember what I have said, I trust you,
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and you know that the cloister is open to everyone. Yes, Giovanni answered.
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As both appeared on the threshold, they saw the two nuns already near,
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and made a few steps to meet them. Monseigneur Sara Saneska greeted the
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mother, who bent her head as she answered him. Giovanni stood still,
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his eyes fixed on Angela's face, but she looked steadily down at the flagstones,
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and her hands were hidden under the broad scapular of white cloth that hung
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straight down from under her gorget to her feet. There are no awkward silences
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when churchmen or nuns meet, still less if the meeting takes place by appointment,
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for each knows exactly what he or she is expected to say, and
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says it deliberately and without hesitation. In less than a minute after they had
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met, the mother and Monseigneur Sara Sineska entered the hall together and closed the
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glass door after them. The soldier and the nun were face to face at
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last. As soon as Giovanni heard the door shut, he made one step
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forward and stretched out both his hands, thinking to take hers. She made
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no movement, but raised her eyes, and when he saw them they were
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still and dull. Then she slowly held out her right hand, and it
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was cold and inert. When he took it. She drew back at once
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and sat down, And he took the other chair, bringing it a little
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nearer and turning it so that he could see her. He was cruelly disappointed,
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but he was the first to speak. I thought you were glad to
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know that I am alive, he said, coldly. But I see that
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you were only frightened the other day I am sorry to have startled you,
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she steadied herself, before answering, yes, I was startled. Your letter
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did not reach me till afterwards. The garden was whirling before her as if
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she were being put under ether, and the little twisted columns that upheld the
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arches of the cloister chased each other other furiously till she thought she was going
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to fall from her chair. She could not hear what he said next,
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for a surging roar filled her ears, as when the surf breaks at an
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angle on a long beach and sounds one deep, uninterrupted note. He was
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explaining why the mail steamer had not reached Italy several days before him. But
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she did not understand. She only knew when he ceased speaking. It is
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the inevitable, always the inevitable, she said, making a desperate effort and
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yet not saying anything she wished to say. But her tone told him how
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deeply she was moved, and his fiery energy broke out. Nothing is inevitable,
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he cried. There is nothing that cannot be undone if I can live
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to undo it. That was not what she expected, if she expected anything,
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but it brought back her controlling self that had been dazed and wandering and
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had left her almost helpless. She started and turned her face full to his,
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but drawing back in her chair. What do you mean, she asked
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Angela. The appeal of love was in his voice as he bent far forward,
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but she raised her hand in mourning. No, sister Giovanna, please,
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she said, checking him though gently, He felt the slight rebuke and
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remembered that the place was public to the community. It was not by chance
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that you took my name with the veil, he said, almost in a
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whisper. Did you love me then? I believe that you had been dead
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two years, answered the nun slowly. But did you love me still when
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I was dead? Yes? She did not lower her voice, for she
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was not ashamed, but she looked down. He forgot her rebuke and called
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her by her old name again. That had meant life and hope and everything
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to him through years of captivity, Angela. He did not heed her gesture
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now, nor the quick words she spoke. Yes, I will call you
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Angela. You love me now? She checked him again with more energy.
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Hush, if you cannot be reasonable, I shall go away. Reasonable.
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There was contempt in his tone, but he sat upright again and said no
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more. Listen to me, said sister Giovanna, finding some strength in the
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small advantage she had just gained. I have not let you come here in
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order to torment you or cheat you, and I mean to tell you the
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truth. You have a right to know it, and I still have the
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right to tell it, because there is nothing in it of which I am
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ashamed. Will you hear me quietly whatever I say? Yes, I will.
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But I cannot promise not to answer. When you have done. There
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is no answer to what I am going to say. It is to be
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final. We shall see, said Giovanni gravely, though with no conviction.
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But the nun was satisfied, for he was clearly willing to listen. The
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meeting had disturbed her peace even more than she had expected, but she had
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done her best during several days to prepare herself for it, and had found
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strength to decide what she must say, and to repeat it over and over
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again till she knew it by heart. You were reported to be dead,
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she began. Killed with the rest of them. You had your share in
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the great military funeral, and I and all the world believed that you were
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buried with your comrades. Your name is engraved with theirs upon their tomb in
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the role of honor, as that of a man who perished in his country's
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service. I went there with Madame Bernard before I began my novitiate, and
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I went again for the last time before I took the veil. I had
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loved you living, and I loved you dead. Giovanni moved as if he
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were going to speak, but she would not let him. No hear me,
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she cried anxiously. I offered God my life and my strength for your
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sake. And if I have done any good here in five years as novice
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and none, it has been in the hope that it might be accepted for
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you, if your soul needed it. Though you may not believe in such
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things, do you at least understand me? Indeed I do, and I
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am grateful, most grateful. She was a little disappointed by his tone,
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for he spoke with an evident effort. It was gladly given, she said,
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But now you have come back to life. She hesitated with all her
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courage and strength. She could not quite control her memory, and the words
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she had prepared so carefully were suddenly confused. Giovanni completed the sentence for her
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in his own way. I have come to life to find you dead for
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me, as I have been dead for you. Is that what you are
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going to say? She was still hesitating. What is it? He insisted,
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No, she answered at last, not dead for you, alive for
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you. He would have caught at a straw, and the joy came into
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his face as he quickly held out his hand to her, but she would
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not take it. Hers were both hidden under her white cloth scapular, and
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she shrank from him. The light went out of his eyes. I might
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have known, he said, deeply, disappointed. You do not mean it.
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I suppose you will explain that you are alive to pray for me.
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You promised to listen quietly whatever I might say. Yes, he controlled himself.
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I will, he added, after a moment. Go on. I
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am not changed, said sister Giovanna. But my life is that is what
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I meant by the inevitable. No person can undo what I have done.
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Giovanni moved impatiently. No power can loose me from my vows. In spite
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of himself, the man's temper broke out. You are mad, he answered,
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roughly, or else you do not know that you can be free.
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Hush, cried the nun, trying once more to check him. Your promise,
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remember it, I break it. I will not listen meekly to such
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folly. Before you took the vow, you had given me your word,
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as I gave you mine, that we would be man and wife. And
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since I am not dead, no promise or oath made after that is binding.
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I know that you love me still as you did then, And if
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you will not try to free yourself, then by all you believe and by
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all I honor, I will set you free. It was a challenge if
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it was not a threat, and sister Giovanna defended herself as she could,
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but she was painfully conscious that something in her responded with a thrill to the
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cry of the pursuer. Nevertheless, she answered with a firm refusal. You
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cannot make me do what I will not, she said, I can,
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and I will. He retorted vehemently, it is monstrous that you should be
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bound by a promise made in ignorance, under a wretched mistake, on a
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false report that I was dead. We were not even formally betrothed. We
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loved each other, interrupted Giovanni, and we had told each other. So
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that is enough. We belonged to each other just as truly as if we
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were man and wife, even if we were, said the nun, interrupting
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him. In her turn. If I had taken my vows in the belief
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that my husband had been dead for years, I would not ask to be
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released. He stared at her, his temper suddenly chilled in amazement. But
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if it were a mistake, he objected. If the pope offered you a
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dispensation, would you refuse it? Sister Giovanna was prepared for She had thought
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of that if you had given a man your word of honor to pay a
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debt you owed him, would you break your promise if you suddenly found that
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you could use the money in another way, which would give you the keenest
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pleasure. That is quite different. How can you ask such an absurd question?
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It is not absurd, and the case is not so different as you
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think. I have given my word to God in heaven, and I must
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pay my debt. Giovanni was indignant again and rebelled. You used to tell
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me that your God was just, and I have heard you say that your
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only god was honor, retorted the nun, Yes, he answered hotly.
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It is honor teaches that the first promise given must be fulfilled before all others.
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I have been taught that vow's made to God must not be broken.
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She rose, as if the speech were final. Though they had been talking
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only a few minutes. She already felt that she could not bear much more.
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Surely, you are not going already, he cried, starting to his
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feet. Sister Giovanna turned so that she was face to face with him.
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What is there left to say, she asked, with a great effort.
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Everything. I told you that I would answer when you had finished, and
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now that you have nothing left to say, you must hear me. You
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said you would I said that there could be no answer. Nevertheless, she
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waited, motionless. But there is the answer is that I will free you
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from the slavery to which you have sold your soul. The answer is I
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love you, and it is yourself. I love the woman you are now,
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not the memory of your shadow from long ago, but you, you,
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your very self. Half out of his mind, he tried to seize
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her by the arm to draw her to him, but he only caught her
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sleeve and dropped it as she sprang back with a lightness and maiden grace.
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It almost drove him mad. She drew herself up, offended and hurt.
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Remember what I am and where you are? Giovanni's manner changed so suddenly that
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she would have been suspicious if she had not been too much disturbed to reason.
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She fancied that she still controlled him. You are right, he said,
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I beg your pardon. Only tell me when I may see you again,
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Not for a long time, not till you can give me your word
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that you will control yourself. Till then we must say goodbye. He was
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so quiet all at once that it was easier to say the word than she
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had expected. No, he answered, not good bye, for even if
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you will not see me, I shall be near you, near where I
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am living in my brother's rooms at the magazine. I am in charge till
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he gets well. I ask permission to take his place on the day I
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arrived from the minister himself. You have taken his place, She could not
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keep her anxiety out of her voice. Yes, and I hope to get
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a shot at the fellow who wounded Hugo. But the post suits me,
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for the upper part of this house is in side of my windows. If
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you look out towards the river, you can see where I live. He
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spoke so gently that she lingered instead of leaving him at once, as she
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had meant to do. And besides, he went on in the same tone,
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I shall come here every day until my brother can go home. I
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may meet you at any moment in going to his room. You will not
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refuse to speak to me, will you, he smiled. He seemed quite
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changed within a few moments, but she shook her head. You will not
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see me here again, she answered. For my week's turn as supervising nurse
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will be over this evening, and I am going to a private case tonight.
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Giovanni asked, with a little surprise. Yes tonight. Do you mean
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to say that you do not even have a day's rest after being on duty
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a whole week? What a life? But they must give you a few
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hours. Surely What time do you go off duty? And at what time
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do you go to your new patient? I suppose they send for you,
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Yes, at about eight o'clock. That is the usual time, but I
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never know long beforehand. Arrangements of that sort are all made by the mother
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superior. It did not seem unnatural that he should ask questions about her occupation
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now that he was calmer, Nor could she think it wrong to answer them.
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Anyone might have listened to what they were saying. I dare say,
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you do not even know where you are going this evening, Giovanni said.
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She thought that he was talking only to keep her with him a little longer.
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Overstrained as she had been, it was a relief to exchange a few
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words quietly before parting from him. It is true, she answered, after
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a moment's thought. I dare say, the mother Superior mentioned the name of
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the family, but if she did, I have forgotten it. I shall
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get my instructions before I leave the house, as usual. I only know
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that it is a new case. Yes, Giovanni said, as if it
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did not interest him further. All the same, it is a shame that
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you should be made to work so hard before I go. Tell me that
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you have forgiven me for losing my head just now. I think you have,
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but I want to hear you say so, will you It seemed little
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enough to forgive. Sister Giovanna felt so much relieved by his change of manner
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that she was even able to smile faintly. If he would always be as
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gentle, she could perhaps ask leave to see him again in six months,
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now that the storm was over. It was a pure and innocent happiness to
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be with him. You will not do it again, she said, simply.
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Of course, I forgive you. Thank you. It is all I
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can expect, since you have told me that I was asking thee impossible.
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You see, Madame Bernard, sometimes, do you not? Yes? Almost
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every week she will give me news of you. I suppose I must not
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send you a message by her. That would be against the rules. The
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message might be Sister Giovanna actually smiled again. But if it is not,
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there is no reason why she should not bring me a greeting from you,
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but not a letter. No, I would not take it from her.
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It would have to be given to Mother's superior. If she were willing to
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receive it at all. It would be her duty to read it, and
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she would judge whether it should be given to me or not. Is that
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the rule, Giovanni asked, more indifferently than she had expected. Yes,
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it is the rule in our order. If it were not, who could
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prevent anyone from writing to a nun? I was not finding fault with it.
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I must not keep you standing here any longer. If you will not
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sit down and talk a little more, I had better be going. Yes,
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you have been here long enough. I think he did not press her.
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He was so submissive that if he had begged permission to stay a few
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minutes more, she would have consented, and she wished he would when she
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saw him holding out his hand to say goodbye, but she was too well
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pleased at having dominated his wild temper to make a suggestion which might betray weakness
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in herself. She took his hand and was a little surprised to find it
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as cold as hers had been when he came. But his face was not
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pale. She forgot that five years of Africa had bronzed it too much for
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paleness, and he was very quiet and collected. She went to the door
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of the hall with him and opened it before he could do so for himself.
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They parted almost like mere acquaintances, he bowing on the step, she
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bending her head. The Mother Superior and Monseigneur Sara Seneska had been sitting by
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the table talking, but both had risen and come forward as soon as the
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pair appeared outside the glass door. It all passed off very satisfactorily, and
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the Mother Superior gave a little sigh of relief when the churchman and the soldier
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went away together, leaving her and Sister Giovanna standing in the hall. She
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felt that Monseigneur Sara Seneska had been right after all in approving the meeting,
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and that she had been mistaking and thinking that it must endanger the nun's peace.
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She said nothing, but she was quietly pleased, and a rare,
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sweet smile softened her marble features. She asked no questions about what had passed,
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being quite sure that all was well and that if there had ever been
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anything to fear, it was gone. The prelate and Giovanni walked along the
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quiet street in silence for some distance. Then SEVERI stopped suddenly, as many
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Italians do when they are going to say something important. You will help me,
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I am sure, he said, speaking impetuously. From the first.
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Though I never knew you well in old times, I always felt that you
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were friendly. You will not allow her to ruin both our lives, will
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you. What sort of help do you want from me? Asked the tall
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churchman, bending his eyes to the energetic young face, the simplest thing in
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the world. Giovanni answered, We were engaged to be married. When I
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left with that ill fated expedition. She thought me dead. She must be
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released from her vows at once. That is all. It is. Out
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of the question, answered Monseigneur Sarah Sineska, with supernal calm. Out of
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the question, Giovanni frowned angrily. Do you mean that it cannot be done?
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But it is only common justice. She is as much my wife as
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if you had married us and I had left her at the altar to go
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to Africa. You cannot be in earnest I am in the first place.
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There is no ground for granting a dispensation, no ground, cried Severi,
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indignantly. We loved each other, we want to marry. Is that no
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reason? No, you were not even formally betrothed, either before your parish
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priest or the mayor, without a solemn promise in the proper form, and
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before witnesses. There is no binding engagement to Mary. That is not only
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canonical law, but Italian common law too. We had told each other,
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Giovanni objected. That was enough. You are wrong, answered Monseigneur Sara Saneska
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gently, the Church will do nothing that the law would not do, and
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the law would not release Sister Giovanna or any one else from a legal obligation
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taken under the same circumstances as the religious one. She has assumed, What
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do you mean this if, instead of becoming a nun, Angela had married
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another man after you were lost, Italian law would not annul the marriage in
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order that she might become your wife. Of course not, then why should
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the church annul an obligation which is quite as solemn as marriage. Giovanni thought
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he had caught the churchman in a fallacy. I beg your pardon, he
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replied. I was taught as a boy that marriage is a sacrament, but
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I never heard that taking the veil was one. Quite right, in Prince.
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In reality, it is considered for women the equivalent of ordination, and
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therefore as being the nature of a sacrament. I am not a theologian to
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discuss equivalents, retorted Giovanni, roughly, very true, but a man who
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knows nothing of mathematics may safely accept the statement of a mathematician about a simple
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problem. That is not the point. However, if you remember I said
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that under the same circumstances, the Church would not do what the law would
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not. The Church considers a nun's final vows to be as binding under its
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regulations as the law considers that any civil contract is. The circumstances are therefore
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exactly similar. Giovanni was no match for his cool antagonist in an argument.
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He cut the discussion short by a direct question, is it in the Pope's
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power to release Sister Giovanna from her vows or not? Yes, it is
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in principle. Then put your principles into practice and make him do it,
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cried the soldier rudely. Monseigneur Sara Sineska was unmoved by this attack, which
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he answered with calm, dignity, My dear captain, he said, in
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the first place, no one can make the Pope do things. That is
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not a respectful way of speaking. Giovanni was naturally courteous, and he felt
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that he had gone too far. I beg your pardon, he answered,
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I mean no disrespect to the Pope, though I tell you frankly that I
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do not believe in much, and not at all in his authority. What
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I ask is common justice and your help is a friend. I ask you
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to go to him and lay the case before him fairly, as before a
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just man, which I heartily believe him to be. You will see that
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he will do what you admit is in his power and give sister Giova her
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dispensation. If you and she had been married before your disappearance, argued the
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churchman, his holiness would assuredly not refuse. If you had been solemnly betrothed
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before your parish priest, as well as legally promised in marriage at the capital.
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He might make an exception, though a civil betrothal is valid only for
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six months under Italian law. But there was no marriage and no such engagement.
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Giovanni found himself led into argument again. We had intended to bind ourselves
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formally, he objected. I have heard it said by priests that everything depends
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on the intention, and that without it, the most solemn sacrament is an
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empty show. Will you doubt our intention if I give you my word that
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it was mine? And if Sister Giovanna assures you that it was hers,
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certainly not, the Pope would not doubt you either. I am sure,
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then, in the name of all that is just and right, what is
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the obstacle. If you admit that the intention is the one important point,
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and that it existed, what ground have you left that is begging the question?
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Captain? It is true that without the intention a sacrament is an empty
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show. But the intention without the sacrament is of no more value than intention
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without performance would be in law less. Perhaps there is another point, however,
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which you have quite overlooked. If a request for a dispensation were even
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to be considered, it ought to come from sister Giovanna herself, and you
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will never allow her to ask for her freedom, cried Giovanni angrily. That
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settles it, I suppose, oh the tyranny of the church. Monseigneur Sara
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Sineska's calm was not in the least disturbed by this outbreak, and he answered
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with unruffled dignity. That is easily said, Captain. You have just been
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speaking with Giovanna, and I dare say you talked of this. What was
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her answer? She is under the influence of her surroundings. Of course,
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what could I expect. But the churchman had a right to a more direct
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reply. Did she refuse to listen to your suggestion that she should leave her
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order? He asked. Giovanni did not like to admit the fact and paused
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a moment before answering, But he was too truthful to quibble. Yes she
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did. What reason did she give for refusing none? Did she merely say
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no, I will not. You are cross examining me. Giovanni fancied that
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he had a right to be offended. No protested, Monseigneur Sara Seneska,
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or at least not with the intention of catching you. In your own words,
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you made an unfair assertion. I have a right to ask a fair
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question if I were not a priest but simply Ippolito Sara Sineska, And if
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you accused me or my family of unjust dealings, you would be glad to
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give me an opportunity of defending my position as man to man. But because
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I am a priest, you deny me that right. Are you just?
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I did not accuse you, personally, argued the younger man. I meant
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that the church would never allow sister Giovanna to ask for her freedom. The
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greater includes the less, replied the other. The church is my family,
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It includes myself, and I claim the right to defend it against an unjust
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accusation. Sister Giovanna is as free to ask for a dispensation as you were
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to resign from the army when you were ordered to join an expedition in which
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you nearly lost your life. You say so, Severi was incredulous. It
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is the truth. Sister Giovanna has devoted herself to a cause in which she
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too may risk her life. The risk a nurse runs nowadays is not great.
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You are mistaken. If she carries out her intention, she will be
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exposed to a great danger. What intention, asked Giovanni, instantly, filled
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with anxiety. She has asked permission to join the other sisters of the order
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who are going out to Rangoon to nurse the lepers there, lepers. Severi's
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features were convulsed with horror. She nurse lepers. It is not possible.
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It is certain death. No, it is not certain death by any means.
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But you will admit the risk. Giovanni was beside himself in an instant.
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She shall not go, he cried furiously. You shall not make her
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kill herself, make her commit suicide for your glorification, that what you call
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your church may add another martyr to its death roll. You shall not I
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say, do you hear me? He grasped the prelate's arm roughly, If
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you must have martyrs, go yourselves, risk your own lives for your own
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glory. Instead of sacrificing women on your altars, women who should live to
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be wives and mothers and honor to mankind, you are utterly unjust. No.
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I am human, and I will not tolerate your human sacrifice. I
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am a man, and I will not let the woman I love be sent
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to a horrible death to delight your moloch of a god. Captain SEVERI,
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you are raving. Giovanni's fiery rage leapt from invective to sarcasm. Raving.
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That is your answer. That is the sum of your churchman's argument. A
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man who will not let you make a martyr of the woman he adores is
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raving. Do you find that in Saint Thomas Aquinas, or in Saint Augustine,
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or in Saint Jerome. He dropped his voice and suddenly spoke with cold
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deliberation. She shall not go. I swear that I will make it impossible.
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Monseigneur Sara Soneska shook his head. If that is an oath, he
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said, it is a foolish one. If it is a threat, it
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is unworthy of you. Take it how you will. It is my last
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word. May you never regret it, answered the prelate, lifting his three
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cornered hat, for Giovanni was saluting with the evident intention of leaving him at
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once. So they parted end of Chapter fourteen.