The Cloister and the Hearth

  CHAPTER LXXV

  Clement sighed. He began to doubt whether he had taken the wisest coursewith a creature so passionate.

  But young as he was, he had already learned many lessons ofecclesiastical wisdom. For one thing he had been taught to pause, ie.,in certain difficulties, neither to do nor to say anything, until thematter should clear itself a little.

  He therefore held his peace and prayed for wisdom.

  All he did was gently to withdraw his foot.

  But his penitent flung her arms round it with a piteous cry, and held itconvulsively, and wept over it.

  And now the agony of shame, as well as penitence, she was in, showeditself by the bright red that crept over her very throat, as she layquivering at his feet.

  "My daughter," said Clement gently, "take courage. Torment thyself nomore about this Gerard, who is not. As for me, I am Brother Clement,whom Heaven hath sent to thee this day to comfort thee, and help theesave thy soul. Thou last made me thy confessor, I claim, then, thineobedience."

  "Oh, yes," sobbed the penitent.

  "Leave this pilgrimage, and instant return to Rome. Penitence abroad islittle worth. There where we live lie the temptations we must defeat, orperish; not fly in search of others more showy, but less lethal. Easy towash the feet of strangers, masked ourselves, Hard to be merely meek andcharitable with those about us."

  "I'll never, never lay finger on her again."

  "Nay, I speak not of servants only, but of dependents, kinsmen, friends.This be thy penance; the last thing at night, and the first thing aftermatins, call to mind thy sin, and God His goodness; and so be humble andgentle to the faults of those around thee. The world it courts the rich;but seek thou the poor: not beggars; these for the most are neitherhonest nor truly poor. But rather find out those who blush to seek thee,yet need thee sore. Giving to them shalt lend to Heaven. Marry a goodson of the Church."

  "Me? I will never marry."

  "Thou wilt marry within the year. I do entreat and command thee to marryone that feareth God. For thou art very clay. Mated ill thou shalt benaught. But wedding a worthy husband thou mayest, Dei gratia, live apious princess; ay, and die a saint."

  "I?"

  "Thou."

  He then desired her to rise and go about the good work he had set her.

  She rose to her knees, and removing her mask, cast an eloquent look uponhim, then lowered her eyes meekly.

  "I will obey you as I would an angel. How happy I am, yet unhappy; foroh, my heart tells me I shall never look on you again. I will not gotill I have dried your feet."

  "It needs not. I have excused thee this bootless penance."

  "'Tis no penance to me. Ah! you do not forgive me, if you will not letme dry your poor feet."

  "So be it then," said Clement resignedly; and thought to himself,"Levius quid foemina."

  But these weak creatures, that gravitate towards the small, as heavenlybodies towards the great, have yet their own flashes of angelicintelligence.

  When the princess had dried the friar's feet, she looked at him withtears in her beautiful eyes, and murmured with singular tenderness andgoodness--

  "I will have masses said for her soul. May I?" she added timidly.

  This brought a faint blush into the monk's cheek, and moistened his coldblue eye. It came so suddenly from one he was just rating so low.

  "It is a gracious thought," he said. "Do as thou wilt: often such actsfall back on the doer like blessed dew. I am thy confessor, not hers;thine is the soul I must now do my all to save, or woe be to my own. Mydaughter, my dear daughter, I see good and ill angels fighting for thysoul this day, ay, this moment; oh, fight thou on thine own side. Dostthou remember all I bade thee?"

  "Remember!" said the princess. "Sweet saint, each syllable of thine isgraved in my heart."

  "But one word more, then. Pray much to Christ, and little to hissaints."

  "I will."

  "And that is the best word I have light to say to thee. So part we onit. Thou to the place becomes thee best, thy father's house, I to myholy mother's work."

  "Adieu," faltered the princess. "Adieu, thou that I have loved too well,hated too ill, known and revered too late; forgiving angel, adieu--forever."

  The monk caught her words, though but faltered in a sigh.

  "For ever?" he cried aloud, with sudden ardour. "Christians live 'forever,' and love 'for ever,' but they never part 'for ever. They part, aspart the earth and sun, to meet more brightly in a little while. You andI part here for life. And what is our life? One line in the great storyof the Church, whose son and daughter we are; one handful in the sand oftime, one drop in the ocean of 'For ever.' Adieu--for the little momentcalled 'a life!' We part in trouble, we shall meet in peace: we partcreatures of clay, we shall meet immortal spirits: we part in a world ofsin and sorrow, we shall meet where all is purity and love divine; whereno ill passions are, but Christ is, and His saints around Him clad inwhite. There, in the turning of an hour-glass, in the breaking of abubble, in the passing of a cloud, she, and thou, and I, shall meetagain; and sit at the feet of angels and archangels, apostles andsaints, and beam like them with joy unspeakable, in the light of theshadow of God upon His throne, FOR EVER--AND EVER--AND EVER."

  And so they parted. The monk erect, his eyes turned heavenwards andglowing with the sacred fire of zeal; the princess slowly retiring andturning more than once to cast a lingering glance of awe and tenderregret on that inspired figure.

  She went home subdued, and purified. Clement, in due course, reachedBasle, and entered on his duties, teaching in the University, andpreaching in the town and neighbourhood. He led a life that can becomprised in two words; deep study, and mortification. My reader hasalready a peep into his soul. At Basle he advanced in holy zeal andknowledge.

  The brethren of his order began to see in him a descendant of the saintsand martyrs.