The Gray Nun | Page 6

do so with fullest conviction, your Majesty."
"Would you recognize the cross?"
"To be sure I should."
"Is this it?"
"Good Heavens--it is! On the back there ought to be the initials of her
royal highness!"
"Here they are," said the king, reversing the cross. The old woman
shrank back appalled.
"Then, your Majesty, the vault has been broken into!"
"Possibly it has. The matter shall be investigated. I am much obliged to
you, ladies, and earnestly request you will both preserve unconditional
silence as to our present interview."

"Well," said the king to me, after the ladies in waiting had withdrawn,
"how do you account for this cross being here in my hand, considering
it was put into the coffin? You think the vault may have been pillaged?
That, I believe, is out of the question. The object of a carnival freak,
which could have been perpetrated just as easily in any other dress, is
far too slight to make such a horrible offense as the violation of the
dead worth while! But I intend to have the vault examined, and beg, my
dear baron, that you will attend. For the present, good night."
I spent a dreadful night, torturing my sleepless brain for a solution of
the riddle, and being forever haunted by the nun's dark eyes. It was late
when I woke.
Some hours after, the coffin was opened in the presence of the king,
whose surmise proved correct. The bolts on the coffin were intact. The
gold chain was there, safe round the princess' neck. But the cross was
gone. There was not the remotest sign of violence.
How I got out of that vault, I do not know. I remember feeling faint,
and being supported by two court officials. I am unaware of what
happened next. It was the only instance in my life in which my system
had so entirely given way. A serious illness was apprehended, but my
strong constitution won the day. For a long time my mind was in a
precarious state.
When I had recovered, the king sent for me.
"Are you still a skeptic?" he asked in a grave voice.
"No, your Majesty, I am convinced now."
Whereupon the king himself deigned to communicate to me the
particulars relating to the golden cross.
Princess A. was a daughter of one of his cousins, and she was their fifth
child. The duchess, a very pious woman, made a vow before the birth
of her sixth child, that if it was a boy, her youngest daughter should be
dedicated to the service of the church and take the veil. A son was born,

and Princess A. henceforth was educated for the profession of a nun in
becoming retirement and seclusion. Unfortunately, however, the natural
traits of the girl seemed to be entirely in opposition to that reverend
calling. An irrepressible vivacity of spirit, an intense coveting of
worldly joys and pleasures characterized her, and the more she was
separated from the world the more ardent grew her desire to live in it.
Heartrending scenes of resistance and tears were enacted, and the
reigning sovereign felt so much pity for the spirited young creature that
he attempted to save her from her fate of being immured in convent
walls by offering to apply to the pope for a dispensation releasing the
mother from her promise. But the duchess desperately combated this
idea. Her wild laments, that to break her vow would entail her
forfeiture of eternal salvation, her protestations, her tears, her entreaties,
at last prevailed upon the princess to join the Order of the Gray Sisters.
For a short space all seemed to go well. The fervid heart of the royal
nun was apparently beating placidly, in the quiet claustral surroundings.
But during the winter the duchess fell sick, and the young bride of the
church was called to her bedside. Princess A. had remained with her
mother for several weeks, and about that time the carnival season began.
Masked balls were given in the palace, and while the horns and violins
were sounding in the ballroom Princess A. lay on her knees in the
throes of dreadful despair, tearing her hair in furious longing for that
lost paradise. She at last succeeded in bribing a chambermaid to
secretly procure her a fancy dress. If it was to cost her immortal soul,
once she would dance and be young and happy! The plot was betrayed,
and the angriest reproaches were poured out by her parents upon the
perjured, rebellious nun! Princess A. was locked up, and was to be
removed to the convent the next day. However, as the festivities in the
palace were reaching their height that night, the unhappy young nun lay
expiring in her room. She had taken poison, although