Suddenly the great cathedral bell struck out the twelve strokes of mid-day, and we listened in silence as the last faint vibrations seemed to die away amidst the distant Pyrenees.
"It is my summons," said the priest. "I would fain linger with you, but duty calls me elsewhere. I cannot say farewell. Let us again meet to-morrow."
We promised; then looking steadily at him saw a wave of emotion pass over his expressive face. Following his intent gaze, our eyes rested upon a slight, graceful figure in the dress of a _Religieuse_, flitting silently through the small square beside the desecrated church. Miguel, who stood at his door, bowed as to a saint.
"Sister Anastasia," said Anselmo, his eyes having already betrayed the fact. "She is bound on some errand of mercy. May Heaven have her in its holy keeping!"
"Can a prophet come out of Galilee?"--The unexpected happens--under the probe--Wise reservation--Born to command--Contrasts--Nothing new under the sun--The señora prepares for the fair--Grievance not very deep seated--Bewitching appearance--Señora dramatic--Ernesto--Marriage a lottery--Every cloud its silver lining--Gerona _en fête_--Delormais' mission--Deceptive appearances--Evils of conscription--Ernesto's ambition--Les beaux jours de la vie--Rosalie--A fair picture--Strange similarity--Heavenwards--Anastasia or Rosalie--Her dreams and visions--Modern Paul and Virginia--Eternal possession--A Gerona saint--The better part--More heresy--Fénélon--One creed, one worship--Not peace but a sword--Not dead to the world--Angel of mercy--H. C. mistaken--Earthly idyll.
That same afternoon the people had recovered from their glamour. The fair was in full swing, Gerona festive. It was a general holiday and work was suspended. The shops were open, but no one attempted to make purchases. Even our industrious little lady with the idle husband gave up hoping for customers and turned to pleasure. And she took her pleasure as she did her work, with a great amount of earnestness.
Luncheon had long been over. Black coffee and headache were of the past. The Silent Enigma had gone their way. Mutely they had risen, taken their hats, and marched out in a procession of three. Delormais had duly administered his homily; and after so strangely opening his heart had gone into the town to prosecute his mission. Whether an inspection of the numerous convents, a private embassy from the Pope, or some other weighty matter only to be entrusted to a man of tact and judgment, he did not say.