the poor clare-第14节

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　to　learn　what　was　going　on。　　Then　we　heard　a　faint；　cracked；　tinkling　bell；　coming　shrill　upon　the　air；　clear　and　distinct　from　all　other　sounds。　　〃Holy　Mother！〃　exclaimed　my　landlord；　〃the　Poor　Clares！〃

He　snatched　up　the　fragments　of　my　meal；　and　crammed　them　into　my　hands；　bidding　me　follow。　　Down　stairs　he　ran；　clutching　at　more　food；　as　the　women　of　his　house　eagerly　held　it　out　to　him；　and　in　a　moment　we　were　in　the　street；　moving　along　with　the　great　current；　all　tending　towards　the　Convent　of　the　Poor　Clares。　　And　still；　as　if　piercing　our　ears　with　its　inarticulate　cry；　came　the　shrill　tinkle　of　the　bell。　　In　that　strange　crowd　were　old　men　trembling　and　sobbing；　as　they　carried　their　little　pittance　of　food；　women　with　tears　running　down　their　cheeks；　who　had　snatched　up　what　provisions　they　had　in　the　vessels　in　which　they　stood；　so　that　the　burden　of　these　was　in　many　cases　much　greater　than　that　which　they　contained；　children；　with　flushed　faces；　grasping　tight　the　morsel　of　bitten　cake　or　bread；　in　their　eagerness　to　carry　it　safe　to　the　help　of　the　Poor　Clares；　strong　menyea；　both　Anversois　and　Austrianspressing　onward　with　set　teeth；　and　no　word　spoken；　and　over　all；　and　through　all；　came　that　sharp　tinklethat　cry　for　help　in　extremity。

We　met　the　first　torrent　of　people　returning　with　blanched　and　piteous　faces：　　they　were　issuing　out　of　the　convent　to　make　way　for　the　offerings　of　others。　　〃Haste；　haste！〃　said　they。　　〃A　Poor　Clare　is　dying！　　A　Poor　Clare　is　dead　for　hunger！　　God　forgive　us　and　our　city！〃

We　pressed　on。　　The　stream　bore　us　along　where　it　would。　　We　were　carried　through　refectories；　bare　and　crumbless；　into　cells　over　whose　doors　the　conventual　name　of　the　occupant　was　written。　　Thus　it　was　that　I；　with　others；　was　forced　into　Sister　Magdalen's　cell。　　On　her　couch　lay　Gisborne；　pale　unto　death；　but　not　dead。　　By　his　side　was　a　cup　of　water；　and　a　small　morsel　of　mouldy　bread；　which　he　had　pushed　out　of　his　reach；　and　could　not　move　to　obtain。　　Over　against　his　bed　were　these　words；　copied　in　the　English　version　〃Therefore；　if　thine　enemy　hunger；　feed　him；　if　he　thirst；　give　him　drink。〃

Some　of　us　gave　him　of　our　food；　and　left　him　eating　greedily；　like　some　famished　wild　animal。　　For　now　it　was　no　longer　the　sharp　tinkle；　but　that　one　solemn　toll；　which　in　all　Christian　countries　tells　of　the　passing　of　the　spirit　out　of　earthly　life　into　eternity；　and　again　a　murmur　gathered　and　grew；　as　of　many　people　speaking　with　awed　breath；　〃A　Poor　Clare　is　dying！　a　Poor　Clare　is　dead！〃

Borne　along　once　more　by　the　motion　of　the　crowd；　we　were　carried　into　the　chapel　belonging　to　the　Poor　Clares。　　On　a　bier　before　the　high　altar；　lay　a　womanlay　Sister　Magdalenlay　Bridget　Fitzgerald。　By　her　side　stood　Father　Bernard；　in　his　robes　of　office；　and　holding　the　crucifix　on　high　while　he　pronounced　the　solemn　absolution　of　the　Church；　as　to　one　who　had　newly　confessed　herself　of　deadly　sin。　　I　pushed　on　with　passionate　force；　till　I　stood　close　to　the　dying　woman；　as　she　received　extreme　unction　amid　the　breathless　and　awed　hush　of　the　multitude　around。　　Her　eyes　were　glazing；　her　limbs　were　stiffening；　but　when　the　rite　was　over　and　finished；　she　raised　her　gaunt　figure　slowly　up；　and　her　eyes　brightened　to　a　strange　intensity　of　joy；　as；　with　the　gesture　of　her　finger　and　the　trance…　like　gleam　of　her　eye；　she　seemed　like　one　who　watched　the　disappearance　of　some　loathed　and　fearful　creature。

〃She　is　freed　from　the　curse！〃　said　she；　as　she　fell　back　dead。







End