The porteress now returned, and ordered him to follow her. He obeyed, and was conducted into the parlour, where the lady prioress was already posted at the grate. The nuns surrounded her, who all flocked with eagerness to a scene which promised some diversion. Theodore saluted them with profound respect, and his presence had the power to smooth for a moment even the stern brow of the superior. She asked several questions respecting his parents, his religion, and what had reduced him to a state of beggary. To these demands his answers were perfectly satisfactory and perfectly false. He was then asked his opinion of a monastic life: he replied in terms of high estimation and respect for it. Upon this, the prioress told him that his obtaining an entrance into a religious order was not impossible; that her recommendation would not permit his poverty to be an obstacle, and that if she found him deserving it, he might depend in future upon her protection. Theodore assured her that to merit her favour would be his highest ambition; and having ordered him to return next day, when she would talk with him further, the domina quitted the parlour.
The nuns, whom respect for the superior had till then kept silent, now crowded all together to the grate, and assailed the youth with a multitude of questions. He had already examined each with attention: alas! Agnes was not amongst them. The nuns heaped question upon question so thickly that it was scarcely possible for him to reply. One asked where he was born, since his accent declared him to be a foreigner: another wanted to know why he wore a patch upon his left eye: Sister Helena enquired whether he had not a sister like him, because she should like such a companion; and sister Rachael was fully persuaded that the brother would be the pleasanter companion of the two. Theodore amused himself with retailing to the credulous nuns for truths all the strange stories which his imagination could invent. He related to them his supposed adventures, and penetrated every auditor with astonishment, while he talked of giants, savages, shipwrecks, and islands inhabited
“By anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders,”
with many other circumstances to the full as remarkable. He said, that he was born in Terra Incognita, was educated at an Hottentot university, and had passed two years among the Americans of Silesia.
“For what regards the loss of my eye,” said he, “it was a just punishment upon me for disrespect to the Virgin, when I made my second pilgrimage to Loretto. I stood near the altar in the miraculous chapel: the monks were proceeding to array the statue in her best apparel. The pilgrims were ordered to close their eyes during this ceremony: but though by nature extremely religious, curiosity was too powerful. At the moment. … I shall penetrate you with horror, reverend ladies, when I reveal my crime! … At the moment that the monks were changing her shift, I ventured to open my left eye, and gave a little peep towards the statue. That look was my last! The glory which surrounded the Virgin was too great to be supported. I hastily shut my sacrilegious eye, and never have been able to unclose it since!”
At the relation of this miracle the nuns all crossed themselves, and promised to intercede with the blessed Virgin for the recovery of his sight. They expressed their wonder at the extent of his travels, and at the strange adventures which he had met with at so early an age. They now remarked his guitar, and enquired whether he was an adept in music. He replied with modesty that it was not for him to decide upon his talents, but requested permission to appeal to them as judges. This was granted without difficulty.
“But at least,” said the old porteress, “take care not to sing anything profane.”
“You may depend upon my discretion,” replied Theodore: “You shall hear how dangerous it is for young women to abandon themselves to their passions, illustrated by the adventure of a damsel who fell suddenly in love with an unknown knight.”
“But is the adventure true?” enquired the porteress.
“Every word of it. It happened in Denmark, and the heroine was thought so beautiful that she was known by no other name but that of ‘the lovely maid.’ ”
“In Denmark, say you?” mumbled an old nun. “Are not the people all blacks in Denmark?”
“By no means, reverend lady; they are of a delicate pea-green with flame-coloured hair and whiskers.”
“Mother of God! pea-green?” exclaimed Sister Helena; “Oh! ’tis impossible!”
“Impossible?” said the porteress with a look of contempt and exultation: “Not at all: when I was a young woman, I remember seeing several of them myself.”
Theodore now put his instrument in proper order. He had read the story of a king of England whose prison was discovered by a minstrel; and he hoped that the same scheme would enable him to discover Agnes, should she be in the convent. He chose a ballad which she had taught him herself in the castle of Lindenberg: she might possibly catch the sound, and he hoped to hear her replying to some of the stanzas. His guitar was now in tune, and he prepared to strike it.
“But before I begin,” said he, “it is necessary to inform you, ladies, that this same Denmark is terribly infested by sorcerers,
