Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 7, No. 44, June, 1861 | Page 9

and shrinking of every other part of her face, to have acquired a
wild, unnatural appearance; while the falling away of her teeth left
nothing to impede the meeting of her hooked nose with her chin. Add
to this, she was hump-backed, and twisted in her figure; and one needs
all the force of her very good-natured, kindly smile to redeem the
image of poor old Jocunda from association with that of some Thracian
witch, and cause one to see in her the appropriate portress of a
Christian institution.
Nevertheless, Agnes fell upon her neck and imprinted a very fervent
kiss upon what was left of her withered cheek, and was repaid by a
shower of those epithets of endearment which in the language of Italy
fly thick and fast as the petals of the orange-blossom from her groves.
"Well, well," said old Elsie,--"I'm going to leave her here to-day.
You've no objections, I suppose?"
"Bless the sweet lamb, no! She belongs here of good right. I believe
blessed Saint Agnes has adopted her; for I've seen her smile, plain as
could be, when the little one brought her flowers."
"Well, Agnes," said the old woman, "I shall come for you after the Ave
Maria." Saying which, she lifted her basket and departed.
The garden where the two were left was one of the most peaceful
retreats that the imagination of a poet could create.
Around it ran on all sides the Byzantine arches of a cloistered walk,
which, according to the quaint, rich fashion of that style, had been
painted with vermilion, blue, and gold. The vaulted roof was spangled
with gold stars on a blue ground, and along the sides was a series of
fresco pictures representing the various scenes in the life of Saint
Agnes; and as the foundress of the Convent was royal in her means,
there was no lack either of gold or gems or of gorgeous painting.

Full justice was done in the first picture to the princely wealth and
estate of the fair Agnes, who was represented as a pure-looking,
pensive child, standing in a thoughtful attitude, with long ripples of
golden hair flowing down over a simple white tunic, and her small
hands clasping a cross on her bosom, while, kneeling at her feet,
obsequious slaves and tire-women were offering the richest gems and
the most gorgeous robes to her serious and abstracted gaze.
In another, she was represented as walking modestly to school, and
winning the admiration of the son of the Roman Praetor, who fell
sick--so says the legend--for the love of her.
Then there was the demand of her hand in marriage by the princely
father of the young man, and her calm rejection of the gorgeous gifts
and splendid gems which he had brought to purchase her consent.
Then followed in order her accusation before the tribunals as a
Christian, her trial, and the various scenes of her martyrdom.
Although the drawing of the figures and the treatment of the subjects
had the quaint stiffness of the thirteenth century, their general effect, as
seen from the shady bowers of the garden, was of a solemn brightness,
a strange and fanciful richness, which was poetical and impressive.
In the centre of the garden was a fountain of white marble, which
evidently was the wreck of something that had belonged to the old
Greek temple. The statue of a nymph sat on a green mossy pedestal in
the midst of a sculptured basin, and from a partially reversed urn on
which she was leaning a clear stream of water dashed down from one
mossy fragment to another, till it lost itself in the placid pool.
The figure and face of this nymph, in their classic finish of outline,
formed a striking contract to the drawing of the Byzantine pairings
within the cloisters, and their juxtaposition in the same inclosure
seemed a presentation of the spirit of a past and present era: the past so
graceful in line, so perfect and airy in conception, so utterly without
spiritual aspiration or life; the present limited in artistic power, but so
earnest, so intense, seeming to struggle and burn, amid its stiff and
restricted boundaries, for the expression of some diviner phase of
humanity.
Nevertheless, the nymph of the fountain, different in style and
execution as it was, was so fair a creature, that it was thought best, after
the spirit of those days, to purge her from all heathen and improper

histories by baptizing her in the waters of her own fountain, and
bestowing on her the name of the saint to whose convent she was
devoted. The simple sisterhood, little conversant in nice points of
antiquity, regarded her as Saint Agnes dispensing the waters of purity
to her convent; and marvellous and sacred