The master motive : a tale of the days of Champlain

Chapter I

In the first days of spring, in the year 1625, Monsieur Gamier, member of the King’s Council, of Paris, had quitted his city residence, to enjoy the delights of his villa at Auteuil. One evening, on his return home, his wife on greeting him asked if he had been to Port Royal.

“ I have just returned from there,” the Magistrate answered, as he seated himself near his wife, before the cheerful fire burning in the grate. “ Acting upon your wise suggestion I saw the Abbess first.”

“ And what did Mother Angelica say?” asked Madame Gamier, folding up the tapestry on which she had been working.

“ She told me I was the bearer of very sad tidings. She said that Mademoiselle Meliand’s departure will be a cause of general grief for Port Royal. Moreover, she asked me not to mention it to the child, as she wishes to do so herself, and at the last minute. She seems to think that Gisella will be so broken-hearted at leaving them that she will not be able to attend properly to her work after being told.”

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“ That would never have suggested itself to us, would it ? ” said Madame Gamier pleasantly.

“ Ah ! but the Arnaulds are indefatigable workers, and Mother Angelica is endowed with many of her family’s characteristics.”

“ What a strange career she has had,” mused the Magistrate ; “ Abbess of Port Royal at eleven years of age, she becomes its reformer at eighteen.”

“ Nevertheless, I admire the Mother Abbess,” said Madame Gamier, enthusiastically.

“ Every one does,” added her husband, “ and in spite of the irregularity of her vocation, she has proved herself to be a remarkable woman. But, to be candid with you, I do not care for Port Royal. I always come away from there feeling dejected.” And the Magistrate stretched his feet a little nearer the cheerful fire.

“ The place is certainly not gay, but it has its attractions — ”

“ I am quite impatient,” continued Monsieur Garnier, “ to go and take Gisella away from there. How unhappy the child must have been ! With her joyful, loving nature, it must have been a torture to have been immured within those dismal walls, where there is neither sunshine nor life, all these long years.”

“ Surely, you are not going to waste your sympathy on Gisella,” broke in Madame Gamier. “ You know she has a temperament which turns everything to account. She is particularly favored.

I do not doubt, she often hears the angels singing.”

“ She sings like an angel herself,” remarked the Magistrate.

“ I am thinking of how happy Charles will be to find such a fiancee awaiting him, on his return from sunny Italy.”

“ As unusual as it is agreeable ! Charles is a very fortunate boy, but — ”

“ How handsome he is ! ” Madame Gamier exclaimed, as she gazed at his portrait, which hung above the mantel.

“ He certainly is,” answered the husband, a smile of proud tenderness lighting up his intellectual face.

Being rather short-sighted, he rose and went nearer to the mantel, the better to admire his son Charles, a handsome young man of twenty.

Having finished his studies, young Gamier had expressed the wish of visiting Italy, and although the youngest son of the family, he was in reality like an only child, his two older brothers having entered the religious life immediately upon leaving college.

“ We shall soon see him now; he was to leave Rome shortly after Easter,” the Magistrate said, reseating himself.

Madame Gamier was silent, but the joy of her heart was reflected in her happy face. Still handsome and graceful, the lady’s fair complexion was somewhat faded; but time had not, could not, rob her of the beauty of her sweet smile.

“ When shall we go to get Gisella ? ” asked Monsieur Gamier, after a moment’s silence. “ She has been away from us long enough now. I should like her to see the men working in the fields at Bois-Belle this spring.” v

The villa bore this rather odd name, because of the beauty and seclusion of its gardens.

“ Providence has arranged all things well,” replied Madame Gamier, as if in answer to her husband’s thoughts. “ At their age to feel a love so true and deep, and one of such long standing. Surely Bois-Belle will be an earthly paradise when we have them both with us.”

“ I would gladly hasten that time,” said the Magistrate, “ for I am anxious to see Charles settled in life.”

Madame Gamier looked at her husband inquiringly.

“ Has the change we both noticed in Charles made you uneasy ? ” she asked. “ Do you attach any importance to his opinions on the religious life?”

“ Yes, at times, I do, but I am quite decided about what I want.”

“ You must not worry about it, dear. Naturally the example of his two brothers must have impressed him very deeply. But he loves Gisella so tenderly — and has for such a long, long time.”

Chapter II

Born of a distinguished family belonging to the magistracy, Gisella Meliand was left an orphan while still quite young. She was a distant relative of Madame Gamier, so her husband, who had been named guardian, sent her to the abbey at Port Royal to be educated. This celebrated abbey, which, a little less than a century later, was razed to the ground by order of the King, was at the time of our story in the first fervor of its reform, Saint Francis of Sales choosing to call it his abode of delights.

Therefore, when Monsieur and Madame Garnier found themselves charged with the care of the little orphan, they decided that the best education they could secure for her would be the one given by the Religious of Port Royal.

So Gisella grew up in that renowned monastery, which was so closely associated with the great ancestral names of Europe and with memories of the voluntary renunciation of wealth and position.

Built down in the hollow of a barren valley, surrounded and over-shadowed by wild woods, Port Royal presented a dismal aspect. There was noth- 5 in g there to brighten the gloomy misty solitude. A kitchen-garden and a few well-grown chestnut trees scattered here and there, were the only things to gladden the eye.

The church, owing to the settling of the ground, was gradually sinking, and at that time it could be entered only by descending ten or twelve steps. Yet the old abbey, buried as it was in a narrow secluded spot, exercised a fascinating influence over many souls.

Madame de Sevigne called it a “ Thebaide in a frightful valley ” ; and when writing to her daughter, she expressed her delight at having seen that holy solitude about which she had heard so much.

Gloom has very little charm for children ; so Port Royal, so dear to the hearts of Pascal and Racine, must have impressed them as being old, dull and lonely.

Life at the abbey was even hard for the pupils. But in that age of health and vigor, no one thought of complaining or expressing surprise; and many young girls, belonging to the first families of France, were brought up at Port Royal.

Gisella went there when she was seven years old. Holidays were unknown at that time, so the child had spent nine years within the walls of the old abbey; rising at four o’clock, summer and winter, and working hard from morning until night.

One day resembled another in its monotonous regularity. Happily, Gisella possessed a nature which could enliven, sweeten and beautify everything round about her. She was capable of loving, and of being loved.

After the death of her parents and when she became a member of the Gamier family, she conceived an unusually strong affection for the youngest son, Charles.

This childish love had grown with her years, for it had been tenderly fostered, and while it helped to brighten the loneliness of her convent life, it increased the pain of their separation.

From time to time Charles came to see her in the convent parlor. He wrote to her often, and in that way he filled her young heart with such joy and happiness that she was able to maintain her cheerfulness amid the gloomy asceticism of the place.

Singing was the only relaxation allowed at reformed Port Royal. Carefully taught and admirably executed, it mingled with their work as well as with their prayers and gave to the divine office, sung in choir, a solemn and pleasing charm. Gisella, who possessed an innate love of music and a voice of rare, sweet beauty, took especial delight in singing, and oftentimes the gloomy old church of Port Royal echoed the sounds of angelic melodies.

“ Is it not the voice of an angel in exile ? ”

Mother Angelica would ask herself at times, while she listened in rapturous ecstacy to Gisella’s singing. Then it is easy to imagine how true was her grief and the community's sorrow at the news of Gisella's coming departure.

Chapter III

It was the senior pupils’ hour for needle work. Seated on rough wooden benches, about twenty young girls were sewing, knitting, and doing embroidery. One was reading aloud the “ Lives of the Fathers of the Desert.”

The room was gloomy. The walls, blackened by age, gave forth a damp and depressing atmosphere. But the pupil who was reading had a particularly agreeable voice, and read remarkably well.

“ Mademoiselle Meliand ! ” called the nun who was superintending their work.

The reader glanced up, closed her book and came to her teacher. Her step was slow, but her carriage was erect and graceful.

In spite of her disordered hair and the extreme ugliness of her uniform, she was fair to look at, and all eyes were upon her as she crossed the room.

“ Mother Abbess wishes to see you in her room,” said the nun, who had just received the message.

The young girl left the room noiselessly, took off her grey linen apron and as she passed a lancet window, she glanced outside. A thick cold vapor hung about the branches of the leafless trees and made the place appear more dismal than usual.

IO

“ How depressing,” she murmured, as she turned away and wended her way through the silent corridors that led to the Mother Abbess' room.

In answer to Gisella’s knock, a young novice, who acted as secretary to the abbess, opened the door.

“ Come in,” she said, pleasantly, “ our Mother is waiting for you.”

The room was large and cold. A figure of the Agonizing Saviour hung upon the south wall; at its base was an ivory skull, beautifully carved, but painfully true in size and shape.

A discolored marble statue of Saint Bernard, a golden crozier, which rested against the abbatial chair, was all this poorly furnished room contained.

Standing before a plain wooden table, the Abbess of Port Royal was busily engaged opening her letters.

“ Come, child,” she said, when she had noticed Miss Meliand.

Gisella came forward, and made her bow with inimitable grace and deep reverence.

The Abbess acknowledged the courtesy by a smile. Turning to the little novice, she said graciously :

“ I shall see you later, dear sister,” and the nun retired.

The privileged days in Gisella’s convent life were those on which she was allowed to see the Mother ii

Abbess. Youth feels the need to love and admire, and what the young girl experienced when in the presence of this illustrious nun was far more than a fleeting heart emotion.

The Abbess of Port Royal was at that time thirty-five years of age. Of medium height, she was graceful and dignified and had a most queenly manner. Her face, worn by her great austerities it is true, and pitted by small-pox, had nothing attractive about it, especially when her eyes were lowered. But in those blue eyes, shaded by red lashes, was revealed the interior beauty and strength of her soul, and once seen they could never be forgotten.

She greeted the child lovingly. Seating herself, she made Gisella take a stool at her feet. Then going straight to the point, as was her wont, she said :

“ My child, your guardian thinks it is time to take you home, and that was my reason for sending for you.”

Gisella colored deeply, she lowered her eyes so that the Abbess might not see the delight that flooded their depths.

“ Well/' asked Mother Angelica, “ what do you say? ”

“If my guardian wishes it, I surely cannot object, ’’ answered Gisella politely, but with her eyes still lowered.

The Abbess fixed a steadfast, penetrating look upon her.

“ Allow me one question. Have you never felt any attraction for the religious life? ” she asked.

For a moment, a smile played around Gisella’s mouth. Then lifting her beautiful brown eyes to meet the gaze of the Abbess she answered candidly :

“ No, Mother, I never have.”

A shadow darkened the Abbess’ face.

“ I always hoped,” she said, in a lowered voice, “ that to the many gifts God has bestowed upon you, He would add that of a religious vocation. Often when listening to your singing, I have dreamed that dream. . . .”

There was a moment’s silence, then the Abbess continued :

“ You are going to pass from the strict, busy life you have lived till now to one of ease and pleasure. Will the change be irksome?”

“ I think not, Mother.”

“ You judge as a child. Pleasure has many pitfalls and has never been known to lead to anything heroic,” she said, exultingly. “ Poverty is far more profitable than riches, the saints all agree, and sweet are the uses of adversity.”

And as if to impress this truth more forcibly upon her mind, the Abbess laid her hand upon Gisella’s head, and paused a few moments to study her.

A 3

Even at the awkward age of early girlhood, she had often taken notice of this child whose voice possessed the power of charming her to the forgetfulness of fatigue and pain. Then, there was nothing remarkable about her appearance, unless it was the passionate beauty of her dreamy brown eyes. Time had flown, and this pale delicate child had developed a beauty of which she was still ignorant, but which filled the Abbess’ soul with fear.

“ The dear child is destined to be the pet and idol of society,” she mused, and, stirred with deep compassion, she traced the sign of the cross upon Gisella’s fair brow. It was her most loving caress, the only one she ever allowed herself, consequently Gisella was delighted to receive it.

“ I shall never forget you ; my prayers as well as my thoughts shall follow you always ; but be warned, do not expect too much from life,” she said, in sad, low tones.

Gisella had the deepest reverence for the Abbess ; therefore, these very solemn words somewhat marred the joy of her home-going.

“ You speak to me, Mother, as if sorrow and temptation were to be my only lot in life. I shall not have to face the world alone. So far Monsieur and Madame Gamier have shown me the deepest affection, and I cannot believe they intend to deprive me of it now.”

Seeing that Gisella had not quite grasped the true meaning of her words, the Abbess smiled and continued :

“ The Garniers are entitled to all your love — to all your gratitude, for they love you as their own child. It is not neglect or indifference I fear for you, child. What I dread for you is, that you will be loved too well, and therein will be your danger.”

These words were spoken in sad impressive tones, for the Abbess had the convincing eloquence of an orator.

Nevertheless, an involuntary smile hovered around the young girl’s mouth, and the light of a deep joy burned in her beautiful brown eyes.

This joyful look was quickly hidden beneath her heavily-fringed eye-lids, but not before the Abbess had noticed that her words had produced no effect.

She knew that this enthusiastic, gifted child possessed in a preeminent degree the fatal power of loving and of suffering. It was cruel, she thought, to expose this beautiful soul to the sordid realities of life, and she would have loved to see her protected therefrom, in the shadow of the cloister.

“ You are sixteen years old, are you not? ”

“ Sixteen and a half, Mother.”

“ You are still exacting about fractions,” said the Abbess, smiling. “ Monsieur Gamier did not leave me in ignorance of his projects concerning you. He spoke highly of his son, and your union is most desirable. But, believe me, happiness is not of this world, and loving, sensitive souls find less of it than others. ‘ Love is oftentimes consumed by its own .vehemence/ ”

“ I long to be happy/’ said Gisella, dreamily.

“ Do you know what happiness would do for you?” asked the Abbess, seriously. “It has been said, and very truthfully, that happiness is like those intoxicating liquors which can only be taken in safety in small quantities, and then, well diluted. Let God do with you as He chooses ; should He send you trials and sufferings. . .

“Trials! Mother,” repeated Gisella, in alarm.

“ Yes, trials, the trials which elevate the soul and strengthen the heart by dispelling its illusions, that is, the illusions which blind it to the wickedness and shortness of life. These illusions, my child, are but a glamour which prevent us from seeing the thorns by the wayside, and the end of life. Happily, these illusions are dispelled by a clearer, more penetrating light at life’s close.”

The sound of a sweet, clear bell reached them.

“ The Vesper bell,” said the Abbess, rising. “ I want to hear your voice once again, so you will sing to-morrow at Mass.”

CHAPTER IV f ‘ Gisella slept very little her last night at Port Royal.

A night-lamp dimly lighted the dormitory, and round about her, companions were sleeping the sound' quiet sleep of youth.

But Gisella lay awake, counting the hours as they rang out from the clock in the tower.

“ Will daylight ever come?” she asked herself.

It dawned at last, and later in the day Monsieur Gamier came to take her home.

Gisella bade her teachers grateful and loving farewells, then she went up to her little alcove in the dormitory to change her dress.

She was not vain, but her delight was keen when she threw off her ugly grey uniform, with its capes, to put on the handsome costume Madame Gamier had sent her.

She cast a last fond look at the large dormitory, at her little bed; then she went down stairs slowly, examining everything attentively as if she wanted to carry away a lasting memory of these beloved spots which she would never see again.

An atmosphere of sadness seemed tc envelope the old monastery, its long, dim cloisters, its corridors 16 and stone stair-cases, that had so often re-echoed the tread of foot-falls, both light and weary.

She longed to pay a farewell visit to the church, which she knew was usually empty at that hour, and as she knelt down before the altar, a thousand loving memories of the past came crowding in upon her.

“ My God ! how often has it been my privilege to sing Thy praises in this hallowed spot?” she sobbed.

The small oak benches, the nuns 9 handsome stalls, the half-obliterated frescoes, the large black cross at the entrance to the burial vaults — everything assumed a new beauty under the spell of her departing glance, and as she stood within the choir, she was moved to tears.

The Mother Abbess 9 office book had been left open upon the book-rest of her stall ; Gisella stooped and pressed her lips lingeringly to it. Then after a final prayer, she left the church, deep calm restored to her soul.

Two lay-sisters, each holding a large key, were awaiting her at the convent door.

“ It is very sad to see our dear Saint Csecelia leaving us,” said the senior in office, as she inserted the key in the lock.

Gisella bade the kind sisters good-bye, and drying their tears, they kissed her affectionately on both cheeks.

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“ Good-bye, Gisella, good-bye/’ cried her companions, who had accompanied her, as far as the tower.

Half smothered by their kisses and embraces, she took a tearful leave of them, after having promised to write often and return as soon as possible

Chapter V

Monsieur Garnier’s thoroughbreds were impatiently pawing the ground, in the Abbey courtyard.

“ I am so delighted to take you away from here,” he said, as he helped Gisella into the carriage.

It was dark when they reached Bois-Belle and Gisella could distinguish nothing about her; but a thousand confused, pleasant recollections of the place came back to her.

Taking her by the hand, her guardian led her to the drawing-room, which was brilliantly lighted in honor of her home-coming.

Seating her in one of the large arm-chairs, he dropped the caressing manner which he had used with her till then and suddenly assumed a serious tone.

“ My dear child, you are heartily welcome to my home. I trust you will be very happy here with us. That you will never want to leave us, or long for any other home, is the dearest and sincerest wish of my heart.”

Gisella was on the verge of tears, as she thanked him for his warm and loving welcome.

“ Now let us have supper,” said Madame Garnier, as she deftly removed Gisella’s hat and jacket. 19

After supper they spent the remainder of the evening sitting around the grate-fire, chatting about many things, principally about Charles.

Madame Gamier gave Gisella her son's letters to read, showed her his last portrait, and Gisella thoroughly enjoyed the quiet pleasant evening.

She was overjoyed to be back once again in Charles' boyhood home — the home to which he was so soon to return.

Her happiness, however, was expressed less in words, than in the joy which radiated from her smiling lips.

The mother was charmed with Gisella, whose heart was as an open book to her; when they were alone, she said to her, as she caressed her soft, black hair :

“ Gisella child, do you not think Divine Providence has arranged all things well?"

The young girl smiled sweetly, and a fleeting blush colored her usually pale face.

“ When I went for you after your mother's death," continued Madame Gamier, “ you were very unhappy and showed a grief far beyond your years. Do what I would for you, you remained inconsolable, and despite my tender care, you were fading away like a poor neglected flower. Your extreme apathy was causing me deep concern, when fortunately I had the happy thought of bringing Charles home from college."

“ Yes, and do you remember what fearful weather it was when he arrived ? ” interrupted Gisella : “ I

can still see his pretty fair hair all wet with rain, his handsome, boyish appearance, and especially the compassionate way in which he looked at me.”

“ He was a very lovable dutiful child, ” went on Madame Gamier, “ and I recollect how attentively he listened to me while I told him that you would die if he did not succeed in making you love him — in making you play with him. That evening, if you remember, you both took supper together at a little table set before the fire. ,,

“ Oh ! yes, I remember that delicious little supper distinctly. Really, I cannot account for it, but the deep gloom in which I had been buried ever since my dear mother’s death seemed dispelled forever from that night. I thought him very charming. After supper we had a delightful chat, sitting before the fire. We soon became good friends, and I told him all my griefs and trials. He spoke to me about his First Communion, about heaven — and his words, child though he was, awakened a new love, a new enthusiasm in my life.”

“ Even then you sang remarkably well, and to please him, you consented to sing. Delighted with his victory, he came and whispered in my ear, ‘ She loves me already, mother dear’; he loved you, too, and was heart-broken when he had to go back to college.”

Gisella had listened to Madame Gamier, entranced.

“ And when he was gone/’ she rejoined, “ I felt a strange void in my life. The house, the garden — all seemed empty and desolate.”

Some tone in the young girl’s voice stirred Madame Gamier to her innermost soul.

She realized that her son Charles was Gisella’s one and only love on earth, that her love for him mingled with all her thoughts in the strength and sweetness of her first memories.

In spite of her ten-mile drive in the open air, Gisella was not sleepy, but Madame Gamier, supposing she must feel fatigued, led her to her room, which was hung in red silk, and exquisitely dainty.

“ Even in that hideous uniform of yours, you are not too ugly, Gisella. Your plaited hair, in the style of Port Royal, gives you the appearance of a queen of the twelfth century. Wait until to-morrow, when I intend to be your lady’s-maid, and I shall transform you, as Cinderella’s fairy god-mother transformed her,” said Madame Gamier, laughingly, as she kissed Gisella good-night.

Left alone, Gisella could have wept with happiness. Being unable to sleep, she opened a window that looked out upon a balcony, but here, as in the deep valley of Port Royal, everything was shrouded in darkness. The heavens alone were visible.

Chapter VI

The days that followed were for Gisella one unbroken dream of happiness.

She was at that extremely susceptible age, “ when love grows apace,” and “ when sentiments, not quite akin, mingle themselves with it and feed its flame.”

She was in a seventh heaven of delight. Her freedom, the open air, the buoyancy of her own youth, everything elated her, everything enhanced the joy of her approaching happiness.

“ I am happy, more than happy,” she wrote to one of her class-mates at Port Royal. “ It is so delightful to have an unbounded, unrestricted view, to see the sunshine. Accustomed to the foggy gloom of Port Royal, I had no idea of this glorious brightness. I am in a continual trance of delight, and if I were to yield to impulse, I would be always singing and my songs would be hymns of thanksgiving. . . . Now I wear such delightfully

long dresses, . . . oftentimes I feel inclined to

inflate my skirts, but fortunately no person knows anything about it. I am quite a grown-up young lady. The fact is incontestable. My aunt says that I have already exhausted one pleasure in life, — that of growing-up.”

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Charles' letters to her were not exactly what she would have wished them to be. Charming when first read, she found upon reading them a second time, a certain restraint in them, a deep sadness which made her uneasy; but these impressions were soon lost in a thousand others more intoxicating.

Life was seething, scintillating in the heart of this young girl of sixteen summers. She had spells of childish frolicsome mirth, and would spend hours playing with Charles' dog, Numa.

“ But when one can read sufficiently below the surface, one can see that she is of a serious turn of mind,” Monsieur Gamier would remark.

And together they visited art galleries, palaces, and places of historic fame.

A man of wealth and culture, he had converted his villa into a delightful retreat. In this he had been ably assisted by his wife, who was very skillful and experienced in the blending of colors, and arrangement of ornament so as to bring about artistic harmonious results.

Gisella loved this charming villa, where everything promoted joy and happiness.

She never grew tired of the garden, glorious now with the bloom and verdure of spring.

Hour after hour was spent admiring the paintings, statuary and tapestries the villa contained.

“No more gratings, no more funeral inscriptions,” she used to exclaim, as she roamed through the house.

But there was a painting in Charles' bedroom, which inspired her with deep and serious thoughts.

This painting, which was a masterpiece, represented Ignatius Loyola looking towards heaven.

“ Charles admires it immensely," said Madame Gamier, one day when she had surprised Gisella looking at it. “ He never wearies of it. He tells me the saint appears as if he were about to say once more, ‘ How vile the earth seems to me when I look up to heaven.' "

The mother had no intention of making the young girl sad, but unfortunately her words had that effect.

She noticed her mistake; so stroking the child's hair, she said, reassuringly.

“ You must make the best of things now, dear. Don't you know that your future husband has strayed to us from heaven? If you doubt it, all you have to do is to look into his lovely eyes, wherein are reflected all the beautiful things of an invisible world. Be consoled; God is always the principal source of pure, true love. Would you want Charles to have a common, everyday nature? "