CHAPTER V.
NIGHT AND MORNING AT THE CONVENT.
Until it was quite late, Manna walked up and down the broad pathway onthe island, holding the Superior and the Professorin by the hand. Itseemed to her, that two loving potencies, each of which had its ownvalid claim, were contending to get possession of her.
It would be difficult to say how they came upon the topic, but the twoladies were discussing the subject of dogmatic belief. The Professorinmaintained that salvability consisted in a willingness to perceive andacknowledge a wrong impulse, an error, or a transgression. The Superioragreed with this, but showed that one was always liable to return to afalse view in the highest things, if a fixed and unalterable revealeddoctrine, continually published anew through some infallible medium,did not provide a remedy against error; otherwise, one never knewwhether he had not fallen into it afresh, and can never be freed fromthe pain of choosing.
The Superior had always a positive belief to fall back upon, while theProfessorin was obliged to find some new basis and reason for everyquestion that came up, which made her appear unsettled and doubtful.And this apparent indecision was increased by the feeling she had ofnot being justified in contending against a faith so firm and sobeneficent in its influence. An unrest, like that of a spy, who, fromthe highest patriotic motives, inspects an enemy's camp, characterizedher whole manner, and she blamed herself for having undertaken thecommission. But she was now at the post, and must defend her views.Wishing to find some impregnable position, she represented to Mannathat her father wanted to organize a general plan of systematiccharity, and that it would be a noble vocation for her to take part init. The Superior waited for Manna to reply, and she now said:--
"My father's donations do not fall into the right hands; we can donothing but restore the property to him who alone has the right todetermine what use shall be made of it."
There was more in Manna's reply than appeared on the surface.
The Professorin remarked that every poor man was a messenger of mercy,and every one who needed help made a demand for sacrifices; that it wasnot enough to bestow gifts, but one must personally devote himself tothe distressed. The alms was not the important thing, but the painswhich one must take on the supplicant's account. How often a man, as hegoes along the street in winter, well wrapped up in his furs, bestowsan alms upon a poor, freezing beggar! For him to unbutton his coat, andto look for something to give, is of more account than the gift itself,at least to the giver.
Manna answered that women could not do such a work by themselves. TheSuperior joined in, saying that she had advised decidedly againstManna's taking the veil, for it was to be feared that she had notrue vocation for it. Then she added in a sharp tone to theProfessorin:--"We are wholly indifferent to the accusation of havingtried to get possession of the child's property; we do not despise thewealth, we can do a great deal of good with it; but it is the child'ssoul that we value, and we do not stop to inquire whether worldlingsbelieve it or not."
The Professorin was glad to find herself at last in the cell where shewas to sleep. She had never slept at a convent, and she had again thedisagreeable feeling of being a traitress and a spy. She said toherself with a smile:--
"I am rejoiced now that I forgot Parker's book; it would be a freshtreachery to have and to read his words and his thoughts here in thishouse."
She gave up the purpose of exerting an influence over Manna, for herewere prior experiences which were beyond her control, and relationsthat were involved in obscurity. A deep sorrow preyed upon the child,which could only be revealed at the confessional, and which perhapsthere only could find relief.
The Professorin was deeply disturbed, and had troubled dreams. Sheseemed to be in the midst of Wallenstein's camp, and in fetters as aspy; she was being interrogated by the sergeant of the guard, when, allof a sudden, he was changed into Professor Einsiedel, who said toher:--
"Be not afraid, I have influence on every one here, I will set you atliberty."
Then she was standing in the midst of the court-circle, and all werelaughing at the _vivandiere_--years ago when she was a young,frolicsome girl, she had once taken that part--and now, as she met theglance of her son; she felt ashamed of her appearance.
These dreams whirled through her brain in strange confusion. She wasrejoiced, on waking, to find that it was all a dream.
The hour for rising at the convent was a very early one, but longbefore the matin bell of the church rang, the Professorin had dressed,and stood watching from her cell the breaking day. The impressions ofher troubled dreams faded like the mists on the river, which were nowstruggling with the dawning light. She dwelt in imagination upon thehundreds of young souls who now lay asleep, preparing to meet apeaceful future. She thought upon the nuns who had renounced life, towhom the day brought no event of personal interest, nothing but theuniform round of duty.
She shuddered as she thought of venturing to disturb such a life.
There may be many incidental and casual irregularities here, shethought, but a holy will has authority over these spirits; and at thisearly morning hour, a saying of her husband's recurred to her:--
"You can oppose an established positive religion only by having morereligion than is embodied in it. The idea of the pure is persecuted,hunted down, obscured, in the world; and the hand must be sure of itshigh consecration, which ventures to attack a sanctuary of that idea."
The morning sun had become lord over the mist, shining brightly overriver and mountains. The convent bell rang, and the great house was allastir.
The Professorin went down, and knelt behind a pillar; the sisters andthe children assembled together.
She remained until the morning service had ended, and then going intothe dining-hall, she begged Manna and the Superior to permit her totake leave. They accompanied her to the shore.
The Professorin exhorted Manna to stay at the convent, and devoteherself to reflection and pure thought. She spoke with such earnestnessthat the Superior, taking her by the hand, uttered in a low tone whatwas evidently a prayer.
The Professorin perceived that her old friend was praying in herbehalf. And why should there not be just as good grounds for this form,as for an inward thought and wish for another, on whom one would invokeevery blessing, unexpressed in words? With a light heart, she was setover to the main-land.
Sonnenkamp was surprised that she did not have Manna with her; but shesaid, in explanation, that she would not interfere any farther in thismatter. She went back with Sonnenkamp to the villa. On board the boat,she sketched out in full the plan of an organized system of charity,which must be so arranged that Manna could go from one sanctuary intoanother.
Sonnenkamp listened in silence, but in no pleasant humor. The wholeworld seemed to have entered into a conspiracy against him, to make ofhim a sanctified hypocrite.
Yesterday, Pranken had made the same demand upon him, and he had saidin reply, that it was a contemptible thing for the very nobility to bedesirous of playing the hypocrite; but Pranken had insisted principallyupon the religious obligation.
Sonnenkamp had shrugged his shoulders, for the man kept his mask oneven when he was alone with him. He only consented after Pranken hadadded, that, by this means, the Court would not only be justified inconferring the title of nobility, but would feel bound to do it. Herenow was Frau Dournay making a similar demand; and this was so far good,that her intentions were most likely honest.
The journey home was not very animated, for they were returning from abootless errand. Sonnenkamp was disturbed because he was called upon todo this and that, and no object had yet been accomplished.