THE NUN.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTION.

THERE is no form of religion on earth which has supplied so many scenes for romance as that of the great Roman Catholic apostacy; which, indeed, in the days of its exaltation, possessed much that is needful for rendering works of imagination most interesting to the mind of man, namely, power, and splendour, and the means of exciting the passions to the utmost-and, above all, mystery-intricate and unfathomable mystery -such as is emphatically denominated in Scripture, "the mystery of iniquity." Yet, although so many works of fancy have been formed with these materials, and in many instances with much success; and although history is filled with tragedies wrought in real life, by this same powerful and complicated machinery; I do not know where I could find any thing like a resemblance to the scenes which I am about to bring forward, in the many multiplied volumes of which the country I now inhabit has to boast. Madame de Genlis has, indeed, in one of her little dramas, betrayed some secrets of the nature of those that I am about to reveal, and which one would almost wonder how she should have dared to advert to, at the period in which her work appeared: but, with the exception of this little piece, I hardly know where else to find any thing like a representation of the interior of a convent, or even the slightest view of the various little low cabals which agitate the minds of those secluded females who have thus, unauthorized by Scripture, endeavoured to disengage themselves from the cares and business of active life; only, I fear, in most instances, to find, by sad experience, that their

own hearts were far more dangerous companions than those which their heavenly Father provided for them, when he gave them their places in the great family of mankind.

I shall not trouble my reader with a very particular account of my early life. I am a native of Turin. I was brought up according to the strictest principles of the Roman Catholic faith, and entered into existence some years before those disturbances occurred in France, which have operated so mighty a change in many of the kingdoms of the continent of Europe. My fortune was respectable, and entirely in my own power. I was left an orphan in very early life; and the loss of an only and very dear sister, which took place about the time I came of age, acted so powerfully on my mind, that I felt myself strongly inclined to become a religieuse, or rather, I should say, a nun. I was, however, not disposed to leap before I looked, and therefore I resolved to become a pensionnaire, or boarder, in a convent, for a short time, before I decided on my future plans. It is not my intention to tell my family name; that which I received at my baptism was Cecile, my birth having taken place on Santa Cecilia's day; hence this santa was my patroness, and it was thought that she had not been unmindful of me, as I early exhibited some talent for music.

I know not that I had any other particular natural advantage, but I was not deficient in any way, and had therefore no temptation of that kind to withdraw myself from the world. I should add that, although brought up strictly, as it regarded the religion of my parents, I had received more intellectual improvement than most young ladies of my rank in my own country, where, I am sorry to say, our ladies knew very little at the period of which I speak. And thus, having presented myself to my reader, I trust that he will have no objection to follow me through the scenes into which I am about to introduce him. But it is not my intention to indulge his curiosity by giving the true name of the town near to which the events took place of which I am about to speak; but, to avoid confusion, I shall call it St. Siffren, from the appellation of the patron of its principal church.

It happened that I had a relation and schoolfellow married at St. Siffren, and that she wrote to invite me

to visit her, as soon as she heard of the death of my lamented sister. My plans were quite undetermined when I received Madame Verani's letter, and I therefore gladly accepted her invitation, and proceeded without loss of time to St. Siffren, where I was received in the kindest manner. But Madame Verani lived in the world, that is, in the little world of the small town in which she resided. I could not partake of her amusements; my heart was still too sad, and therefore she had not power to divert me from my original idea of withdrawing to a convent.

There is not a more beautiful situation in the dominions of the King of Sardinia, exquisitely fine as are many parts of the territories of this king of hills, than that of St. Siffren. It is a small fortified town, on the side of a gentle slope, commanding on the west and south the prospect of a charming valley, watered by a stream which draws its source from the neighbouring mountains, and which, after running a few leagues, loses its very name by mingling its waters with those of the Rhone, above its fall into the lake of Geneva.

The country around St. Siffren is so far north as to have lost the Italian style of scenery which prevails near the shores of the Mediterranean; but if, in consequence, the acacia, the citron, the aloe, the olive, and the caroube have disappeared from its groves and gardens ; and if the cypress is more rare, and the palm-tree never seen; yet I know not whether the deficiency of these is not more than made up by the richness of its meadows and the charming verdure of its fragrant downs; in consequence of which the country abounds with flocks, which, in the warmer months of the year, are drawn up into the mountains, where the shepherds have erected their chalets, in regions unapproachable during the frosts of winter.

But while the little town commands a view of an open country towards the north and west, the mountains rise directly from its walls on the other quarters, -some of them being abrupt and precipitous, and nearly inaccessible to any foot but that of the chamois; and others again presenting rounded forms and gentle slopes covered with a soft thymy herbage; in several instances being crowned with groves of dark pine, as elegantly and fancifully arranged by nature as if they had been expressly planted there by the imitative art of

the ornamental gardener. Among these arose many streams of the purest water, which, in proportion as the summer heat increased, poured more and more abundantly from the heights, as it were, boasting the inexhaustible nature of the source from whence they sprang. Nevertheless, these waters are arrested in their course during the winter, and hang from the rocks in long transparent pendants, sparkling in the sunbeam like drops of diamonds. Immediately beyond the southern gate of St. Siffren, the road towards the mountains makes a steep and rapid ascent till it comes into a line with the pepper-box turret on each side of the gateway of the town, and there it joins a terrace of stone, which runs parallel with the wall of the town, though on a level, as I before remarked, with the tower upon that wall.

Along this terrace, when I first knew St. Siffren, was a row of chestnut-trees, behind which was a line of gloomy buildings, showing few windows towards the front, and those being narrow, far from the ground, and double grated. This edifice was a convent of Notre Dame de Misericorde, of the order of St. Augustin;—a convent of very old establishment, and high renown for sanctity, of which the superior was an abbess, and, at the time I speak of, an individual of the noble family of Lascaris, supposed to be descended from the emperors of the East. Behind this convent was a very large garden, which was the more beautiful as it encroached upon the hill which rose immediately behind the house, and in consequence was divested of that stiffness which must always be found in a pleasure-ground situated on a perfect level. This garden was surrounded by exceedingly high walls, and moreover was shaded by a line of very tall cedar-trees planted within the wall; yet was it commanded from the hill behind, though at so great a distance as by no means to incommode those who took the air, even in the most exposed part of the garden. This spot of ground had also another advantage, which was this, that a little stream of clear water from the hills passed through it, a low grated arch being provided in the wall for its entrance, and another, on the other side, for its exit.

I was exceedingly captivated with the appearance of this establishment, and having made up my mind to obtain admission therein, if possible, I got my friend