Sister Carmen by M. Corvus
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8 SISTER CARMEN
by
M. CORVUS
Translated from the German by KATE DYKERS
New York
The Minerva Publishing Company
48 University Place
1891
CHAPTER I.
The first rays of early dawn threw their shadowy light over hill and
dale, and all nature seemed animated with new life as the fresh spring
breeze kissed the young blades of grain in the fields. Ever brighter
and more glowing grew the eastern horizon, ever more golden the light,
floating clouds, until at last the dazzling rays of the king of day
flashed forth upon the expectant world.
With its clear carol of joy, a lark soared upward from her dewy nest,
singing her morning anthem to the great Creator; and, as if in glad
sympathy with the happy bird, the many and varied voices of nature
united in celebrating the resurrection, not only of the sun, but of all
things, for it was Easter Sunday morning.
Forth from the dwellings of a small Moravian village issued a band of
simply attired folk, who wended their way through the green fields and
up the hillside to a spacious wood, where was located a quiet
graveyard, in which gigantic linden-trees stretched out their leafless
branches, forming a graceful network overhead.
In the centre of this lovely spot stood an immense stone cross, the
sign of that Lord whose resurrection was to-day celebrated with the
sound of trumpets and the voices of the people.
A feeling of holy joy seemed to reign in every heart, as the crowd
stood grouped around the base of the cross, gazing with reverence at it
as it now shone bathed in the glorious radiance of the risen sun.
Presently the music ceased and the soft echoes died away among the
distant hills, while a clear, manly voice in the midst of the
congregation proclaimed: "The Lord is risen!" "He is risen indeed!"
replied each one joyously; after which the first speaker advanced
nearer to the cross and addressed a few words to the people:
"My dear brothers and sisters, in accordance with our usual custom, we
visit to-day our beautiful cemetery, not to mourn for our dead, but to
rejoice that our Lord has risen from the grave to give us eternal life;
for with Him shall rise all those who follow in His holy footsteps here
below. Therefore, as we put not on the garb of mourning, let us not
grieve in our hearts when we think of our loved ones who have gone home
before us, but clasp each other's hands and be glad together, that
through the blessed Redeemer such happiness has been vouchsafed to
them. For His sake, and for the preservation of the true faith, the
Moravians wandered forth from their fatherland, forsaking the wealth
and luxuries of this world; but they took with them that which was more
precious than all else, the pure, unadulterated truths of the Gospel,
and sought a new country, in which they might dwell, and preserve their
religion forever. In the wilds of a strange land they found a
resting-place; and in the community were retained the old statutes and
laws, the old forms of worship, the old brotherly love and kindness,
which from the earliest period had characterized them. From this
little seed-corn which was then planted, the Moravians have spread out
their branches into all parts of the world. Let us remain faithful to
the principles which united our forefathers; let us ever hold sacred
the religion for the sake of which they suffered, and to which they
firmly adhered, in spite of persecution and peril. Hold fast brotherly
love! Forgive and bear with one another in love, sacrifice yourselves
for love's sake, suffer and die, in charity with all men,--then are you
true disciples of the Lord. Amen!"
The preacher's voice ceased, and the congregation devoutly echoed his
"Amen." After a short pause the assembly broke up, with hearty
hand-shakings and joyful greetings. In little groups of twos and
threes they rambled through the beautiful grounds where the loved ones
were laid to rest. The members of the fraternity, as they conversed in
low but cheerful tones, bore a close resemblance to one another in the
quiet simplicity of their attire. There was no pretension to ornament
or style; cleanliness seemed the only adornment sought for, and it
certainly did reign supreme. The women and girls wore small,
close-fitting white caps, the different-colored ribbons on them
distinguishing the various classes, and giving a very pleasing effect
to the scene. The wives were recognized by blue ribbons on their caps,
and the widows by white, while the older girls wore pink and the
younger ones bright red. Gradually all returned to their homes in the
valley below, where lay the thriving Moravian village.
One young girl, however, remained behind alone, lost in thought and
quite unconscious that her companions had already taken their way
homeward. Leaning against one of the large linden-trees, whose ancient
trunk completely screened her slim figure, she stood, looking downward
on the beautiful landscape which lay before her admiring eyes.
Mountain and valley, forest and field, were bathed in the golden
sunshine. Nothing was yet in bloom, but in every swelling bud there
seemed to lie a foreshadowing of coming glory.
"Sister Carmen, hast thou not noticed that thy companions have returned
with their elders, and that thou art left alone?" suddenly asked a deep
masculine voice at her side.
She involuntarily shrank back, as if from fear--was it because she was
alone, or was she only startled from her dreaming?--and looked timidly
at the speaker. He was a man well advanced in years; his hair
partially gray, but his complexion retaining much of its youthful
freshness and color; and there was some difficulty in determining his
age. Although his brow was thoughtful and his grave eyes habitually
looked upward with an expression of calm serenity and humble piety, yet
the curve of his mouth, around which there lurked a peculiar smile,
contradicted the idea of sanctity.
"Have they really left me, Brother Jonathan? I had entirely forgotten
how time was passing, in the tumult of joyful feelings which filled my
heart," said the girl with a sunny smile.
"It gladdens my heart, dear sister, to know it gives you such great joy
to celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord," he replied. "Truly it is a
blessed privilege to be able to lose one's self in the contemplation of
holy things, and, forgetting the cares of this present life, rejoice in
the hope of heaven, and be as one dead to every temporal joy."
"But I was not thinking at all of the life beyond the grave, only of
this present one. How beautiful it is, and what happiness to be able
to enjoy it!" she said candidly, as her youthful countenance lighted up
with a glowing expression of love of life and pleasure.
Hers was a singularly beautiful face, on which the man at her side
gazed with open admiration. The close-fitting cap, with its bright red
bow, indicated that the girl had not yet reached her eighteenth year.
Here and there peeped out little truant locks of the glossy black hair,
whose richness and abundance the close covering could not entirely
conceal or fetter. The broad, intellectual brow; the delicate,
pencilled lashes, from the shadow of which shone forth lustrous black
eyes that flashed with intelligence and spirit; the arched nose, with
its slightly dilated nostrils; pouting mouth, with full, cherry lips,
all gave her something of a proud expression, which was, however,
softened by the beaming smile which so often lighted it up. Although
only a faint color tinged her cheek, yet the clear, brunette complexion
glowed with fresh, warm, young life, and the slender, lithe form that
leaned with such childlike abandon against the old tree displayed the
most exquisite symmetry.
"Yes, this present life is certainly very pleasant, dear sister," he
resumed, approaching yet nearer to her; and he indeed seemed to find it
so as he contemplated this fair, blooming, delightful young creature.
"We do wisely to enjoy it, and use it as a means to prepare us for the
great hereafter, accomplishing that end all the more effectually when
we love the Lord, and, through Him, one another. Sister Carmen, did
you listen to the beautiful discourse on brotherly and sisterly love
which our honored presbyter gave us to-day?" and the speaker bent his
head so low that she felt his hot breath on her cheek, and his heavy
hand on her shoulder. But quickly turning aside and withdrawing from
his touch, she replied: "Yes, I heard it, and it is indeed a very good
and proper thing to love one another; but I think it is not always love
which is called so, or seems so;" and her mouth twitched with a
repressed smile, as if some secret thought amused her.
"Dear sister, how can you speak thus?" he said. "Men, it is true, are
weak, and often swerve from their duty; but we should help each other
in the spirit of love, so that we may be all united and grow to
resemble each other in character."
"Resemble each other in character!" She repeated his words musingly,
and the gaze from her dark eyes wandered away off, beyond her
companion. "Can we ever do that? God has created us so different; if
He had wished us all to be alike, would He not have made us so?"
The man looked at her earnestly, and an expression of disapproval
passed over his face as he answered: "Any one, to hear you speak in
that way, and not know you as well as I do, would never believe that
you had lived so long among us and were one of us. I have known you
always, ever since you were a wee, toddling thing. It was in Jamaica,
when I went to your father from the mission."
Carmen blushed deeply at the rebuke which lay in his words, and, as if
to atone, said quickly:
"Oh, forgive me! I am sure I would gladly be like you all if I only
could. But I cannot always be calm and serene, as every one else here
is; and I fear our dear Sister Agatha, with all her endeavors, will
succeed as little in changing me, as you do in trying to produce the
same degree of health in every one, even though you be the wise and
learned Doctor Jonathan Fricke. Each bird sings after its own fashion,
and although all are different, yet none are bad. I cannot believe
every one is culpable who does not pass through life calmly and
sedately, as we endeavor to do. It surely cannot be wrong for people
to laugh, and dance! Dance!" and she laughed outright, so that her
pearly teeth gleamed from between the rosy lips. "It must be
enchanting to skip round and round to the sound of merry music!" She
had allowed herself to be carried away by enthusiasm, and spoke louder
than was consistent with Moravian decorum, or suitable to the place
where she was. Her eyes sparkled, and the dainty little foot which
peeped forth from under her dress seemed altogether suited to trip with
fairy fleetness through the merry mazes of the dance.
One glance, however, at her companion recalled her to the present. Her
eyes sank, the little foot was hastily withdrawn, and she wrapped more
closely about her the dark shawl which had slipped from her shoulders.
"But the time! the time!" she stammered. "It is getting later and
later while we are chatting, and Sister Agatha will have good cause to
be vexed with me."
With fleet steps she hurried through the quiet graveyard, down the
hill, and along the path which led to the dwellings of the settlement.
Jonathan stood looking after her, as long as his eye could discern the
airy, lithe figure.
All pretence of calmness had vanished from his face. His eyes
glittered with a strange light and glowed with passionate desire. For
a moment the staid, elderly man was transformed into an eager, ardent
youth.
"She inherits the hot, proud Spanish blood of her mother, and, alas!
the same fatal, enchanting beauty also," he muttered. "If I could only
win her--" He stopped abruptly, as if fearful of being overheard, and
began to brush away some imaginary specks of dust from his sleeve.
Drooping his head into its usual pious attitude, his face assumed its
former grave expression, and he was again the sedate, quiet Brother.
CHAPTER II.
A Moravian settlement! As we enter it, it seems as if we stepped into
another sphere, so utterly unlike is it to the bustle and hurry of the
age of progress which prevails in the outer world that presses so
closely upon its borders, and against which it quietly but firmly
opposes the bulwarks of its ancient customs, the simplicity of its
regulations, and the severity of its discipline. It has no intercourse
with the tide of human life surging around it. It seems like a small
body of Christians, left from the Apostolic age, that after being
buried for centuries has been dug out in later days. The government of
the community resembles that of a large family bound together by ties
of love; all its members are brothers and sisters, divided, according
to age, sex, and conditions of life, into bands called choruses, at the
head of each an elder, either male or female, presiding and
superintending its spiritual affairs and enforcing its daily
discipline. Each elder gives in a report of all that occurs in the
chorus to the Conference, as this is the chief board of management in
the society. There is, therefore, nothing which transpires in the life
of any individual that is not brought before this tribunal.
About ten o'clock one morning, an elegant carriage, drawn by two
spirited horses, passed through the quiet, scrupulously clean streets
of the settlement, and drew up at the door of the hotel, or, as they
call it, the general lodging-house; and from the vehicle sprang a young
and very distinguished-looking gentleman with erect, military bearing
and noble features. He was followed by a lady, and a young girl of
about twelve years of age, and a tall, lanky lad who had not yet lost
his boyish awkwardness.
"Unharness and take the trunk to the Sisters' house," said the
gentleman to the coachman.
The newly-arrived guests entered the sitting-room, which was entirely
unoccupied, and whose clean, freshly-sanded floor seemed almost to
shine with a consciousness of its own spotlessness. The host, a quiet
old man, entered to receive their commands, which he attended to in
person. Everything was done silently; not even the plates and glasses
rattled as they were placed on the-table; and when all was prepared,
the man left the room, not attempting, after the manner of hosts in
general, to enter into conversation with his guests, or to ply them
with questions as to whence they came, whither they were going, etc.
The lady, a very remarkable-looking woman, was apparently the mother of
the three others, but seemed young to be the parent of the eldest, who
had evidently numbered thirty years.
The breakfast, which was excellent and well served, was quickly
disposed of; and dinner being ordered for two o'clock, the little party
left the house. On the street, the same stillness, the same absence of
people prevailed as elsewhere.
"Do you know the way to the Sisters' house, mother?" asked the young
man of the lady as they led the way, the two younger ones following
behind.
"Of course, Alexander," she replied. "I was here once, some years ago,
on a visit to President von Karsdorf, and I can perfectly remember how
full of interest the whole place was, and how pleased the Karsdorfs
were to think they could end their lives in this peaceful, quiet spot."
"Such extraordinary order and cleanliness seems almost like a matter of
pride and show on the part of these humble people--as if the inner
purity of their souls must needs be manifested in this extreme, outward
neatness," said the gentleman, laughing.
"You are prejudiced against the Moravian character, I know, and yet
there is so much that is good in them!" argued the lady.
"That may well be so, mother. I am willing to acknowledge all their
good qualities," said her son; "but these numerous forms which intrude
themselves upon every occasion seem like fetters and bonds to free
souls. So much unnatural restraint and parade of sanctity is offensive
to me. I never could tolerate hypocrites, and such they surely must
be, although, of course, they would be shocked at the idea; for under
all this excessive humility, this parade of piety, I venture to say
there lies much concealed of which we do not dream. One can imagine
how much Herr von Karsdorf, an old epicure and man of the world, must
have dissimulated to conform himself to the manners of this community,
to be allowed to end his days here."
His mother shook her head. "I think," she said, "that the subdued,
pious bearing of the members has become like a second nature to them,
and is now, therefore, not hypocritical. Besides, think how excellent
is the domestic economy of the settlement; how active and prosperous
they are in trade and various industries. They have many practical,
temporal, as well as spiritual objects to which they devote themselves."
"I grant all that; but such immense importance is attached to little
things. Their work would be very trifling and ridiculous if attempted
on a large scale. It resembles the wonderful industry in an ant-hill,
unremitting and earnest, but petty labor. No genius is displayed.
What great men have arisen from among them? Who are the distinguished
scholars and artists which have gone forth from their ranks?"
"And how about their sufferings?" interposed the other, quickly.
"Their struggles amidst privation and misery, and persecutions of all
kinds in distant lands, for the sake of their faith, and to rescue wild
heathens from depravity and barbarism, and win them over to the
Christian religion? Do you not deem that a noble work? Consider their
admirable regulations as regards education; are they not excellent? I
look for the greatest improvement in Adele, as the result of her stay
here.--But it seems to me I have turned into the wrong street, for the
Sisters' house is certainly not here!"
"Here come some people at last," replied Alexander--"a girl with a
child. They will be able to direct us." He stepped forward to meet
the approaching figures, and with a polite greeting begged for
information. The young girl dropped a modest courtesy to the stranger,
and with downcast eyes listened to his inquiries about the way to the
Sisters' house. Then she turned to the lady, who had in the mean time
drawn near, and said courteously: "I am just going hither; may I
conduct you?"
"You would oblige us exceedingly," replied the lady, kindly.
"What a lovely Sister! It wouldn't be such a bad thing to be a Brother
here," whispered Alexander to his mother. He did not speak too low for
the sensitive ear of the girl to catch his words, for she blushed
deeply, and the rosy little mouth curled proudly and defiantly.
Visibly offended, she turned away from the gentleman, and simply saying
"Come" to the lady, walked on ahead, leading the little child by the
hand, and giving no apparent heed to the party behind.
Retracing their steps for a short distance, they turned into a side
street, and here--wonder of wonders!--were some more people. A horse
stood, saddled and bridled, before the door of one of the houses, and a
man was just in the act of mounting. He did not seem to be a
particularly expert horseman, or his steed the most patient of animals;
for the former displayed his awkwardness in attempting to mount, and
the latter, as soon as he became aware of his master's intention,
kicked, and sprang aside. The man sought to quiet him, patted his
neck, and once more tried the difficult task of getting on his back;
but the sight of the approaching strangers now added to his clumsiness,
and rendered him even more helpless than before. He had scarcely put
his foot in the stirrup, when the animal pranced, kicked and reared,
jerking the reins from his owner's hands, and throwing him down on the
pavement; after which he started at full speed down the street,
directly towards the advancing party. As soon as the horse showed a
disposition to be restive, the girl had led the child close up against
the side of the house, and looking back at the strangers following her,
she observed an expression of contempt on the young man's face, as he
watched the awkward movements of the Brother; being himself a skilful
rider and able, with his supple yet powerful frame, to master even the
wildest horse.
When the man fell to the ground, and the unrestrained animal came
rapidly onward, the strangers also moved hastily aside. But the little
child had, in its fright, broken loose from the girl's hand, and ran
into the middle of the street to pick up a ball which had rolled from
its hand. A cry of horror broke from every lip, and in another moment
the child would have been dashed under the horse's hoofs as she stooped
to pick up the toy. But before the girl could reach the little one,
the strange gentleman, with one long stride, was on the spot, and had
seized the child in his arms. With a firm hand he grasped the reins,
and brought the terrified beast to a standstill by sheer strength. It
all happened so quickly that, looking at the child playing merrily with
its ball a moment after, one could almost have fancied it was all a
dream. The girl, who had turned as pale as death, was leaning against
the side of the house; but quickly regaining her self-control, she
hastened to her little charge, saying, with trembling voice, as she
shyly glanced at its preserver, "I thank you, sir; you have saved the
little one entrusted to me from great peril."
The unfortunate rider who had been thrown now came limping up, and was
profuse with his thanks to this "friend in need."
There was such a very remarkable contrast between the two men, as they
now stood side by side, that it struck the eye of every one present,
even the young girl's. The humble bearing and uncouth figure of the
Brother looked decidedly unprepossessing compared with the tall,
elegant form of Alexander, which, with all its agility and grace, was
full of power, as if forged from steel. Every muscle was still
strained by the exertion just made; his face was flushed, his blue eyes
sparkled with the fire of inward strength of will, and yet the
expression showed no evidence of agitation, only quiet consciousness of
power. While he yet held the reins with his left hand, he assisted the
other man, who finally succeeded in gaining the saddle.
"A vicious animal, sir," said Alexander to the other, handing him the
bridle. "He seems to be skittish, and will not admit of any joking;
spare the spur, and keep firm hold on the bridle until you are sure of
yourself."
Thus saying, he stood aside, and man and horse proceeded on their way.
"And, now, if you will be so good, miss, please continue to be our
guide," he said, turning toward the girl.
They soon reached the Sisters' house. "Ah, yes, this is the very
place!" cried the lady, joyfully. "Thank you most sincerely for your
courtesy, dear child. Will you kindly tell us which door to enter? We
gave notice by letter of our coming, and are expected. I am Frau von
Trautenau; these are my two sons, and this is my little daughter, whom
I am bringing to stay here." She offered her hand cordially to the
girl, and looked kindly at her beautiful face.
"I beg that you wilt enter this way, into the parlor," was the modest
reply, as the maiden opened a door on the first floor. "I will inform
Sister Agatha of your arrival."
It was not long ere the gentle Sister made her appearance. She was a
friendly, motherly-looking woman, on whose gray hair was placed a cap
with a pink bow, the badge of the unmarried Sisters. She greeted the
visitors with dignified cordiality.
"Forgive me for bringing my entire family, and allow me to present each
member to you," said Frau von Trautenau, after the first words of
welcome.
"My stepson Alexander, captain of infantry, and my trusty adviser and
support since my husband's death; my son Hans, and my daughter Adele,
your pupil from this time forward, whom I commend most earnestly to
your kindness and care."
Sister Agatha took the child most affectionately in her arms, and
pressing a kiss on her brow, said sweetly:
"You must confide in me, dear child, as if I were your mother, and I
will consider you a sacred trust committed to me. We are all a large
family of Sisters here, who love one another, learning cheerfully and
working diligently. 'Pray and work!' This golden proverb is our motto
through the day, and the love and industry which you will see
everywhere will soon teach you to feel at home among us."
"I live, as you know, in the neighborhood," said Frau von Trautenau, as
Adele looked up tearfully. "Our estate, Wollmershain Grove, is only a
few hours' ride from here, and sometimes, if I drive in, you will, I
suppose, allow Adele to visit us for a little recreation?"
"Oh, certainly, Frau Von Trautenau," returned Sister Agatha--"in
vacation. May I now show you our apartments and arrangements, so that
you may know exactly how your dear little girl will be situated?"
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