The Conservative. (M'connelsville, Ohio) 1866-1871, 1871-01-27

can suffer. Oh, yes, with the remem
brance of my past happiness, can suf
fer thousand deaths ~ -E
The cold, unhinching eye of the mn
was upon poor Alix, she used threats
of all descriptions, but in vain; the
young girl was not to be overawed.
4 The abbess rose at last, and ordering
Alix to change her clothes, she left tie
cell with rage depicted on her counte
nance.
When, hours afterward, she returned,
she bade her rise, and, making hel
kneel, administered her Ia discipline,
Shred after shred of the dress which
had touched royalty, Is torn under the
lash; even the beautiful shoulders dc
not escape torture. Not a word, no,
sigh, passed the lips of the unhappy
girl, and as soon as the enraged abb IS
left the cell, she took out the picture
of Louis XIV. hidden in her bosom,
covering it with most passionate kisses
and moistening it with tears; then she
puts it back ON her heart, and exhaust
ed with fatigue, falls into deep slum-
ber.
She dreams, the beautiful but unfor-
tunate sinner, soothing, charming
dream; but alas for the awakening
She is at Versailles, heavenly music
strikes her ears, and she sees advanc-
ing to meet her the majestic form of
the king; he extends his arms to her
and she throws herself on his heart /;
he presses her to it, covers her with
burning kisses; he calls her his ows
beloved Alix; but at that moment a
hard grasp takes hold of her arm; she
shrieks with pain, she wakes, and by
the light of dark-lantern she finds
herself again face to face with her tor
mentor. She is dragged from her
couch, forced to kneel down and re-
main in the same position until ex-
hausted and faint, she falls on her face
before the sorrowing looking image of
her Redeemer.
Has the sun risen upon her or is it
still night Alix cannot tell. She is
stiff with the icy coldness of the stone
she is lying upon; she tries to rise, and,
after painful effort, she reaches the
chair where the clothes have been left;
it reminds her she may be searched if
she delays in changing her dress, and
slowly and with sighs she throws of
her mundane attire for the religious
one; she shudders In putting on the
sombre garb; she feels so faint (for she
has tasted nothing since she entered
her PRISON. that the effort she made is
too much for her; however, she accom-
plishes the task; she has torn off knot
of ribbon the King has touched and
places it with the miniature, then,
cropping her way to the pallet, she lays
once more her head down and sleeps.
Her slumbers have not lasted long.
A sudden flash of light passes over her
eyes; she wakes, and sees standing be-
fore her, man dressed as a Carmelite
monk; she fancies she must be dream
ing, but low, mellow voice undeceived
her; she looks into the face, whose
features are now plainly revealed to her
by the light of the lamp, and she ceas-
es to fear; the austere look vanishes to
make room for one of deep-felt compass
sion; there is sweetness in the gray
eye, and much sauvity on the half-open-
ed lips ready to utter words of comfort
to her desolate soul.
''Be not afraid, my daughter, I do not
come to upbraid; but to pity; not to
chide, but to console; not to Judge, for
there is one higher being who shall
Judge both you and me at the last day.
I come only to you to say have conf
dence in me. / viii not betray your
trust, but try to bring peace to your
afflicted heart.
Alix remained mute for a moment or
two, then tried to speak, but in vain,
her exhaustion was too great, and the
monk perceiving it, left the cell and re-
turned with q phial containing some
cordial He poured it in q glass and
made her drink it soon revived her,
and she thanked him with her lovely,
but sorrowful smile.
A profound silence reigns in the cell;
the monk seems plunged IN deep
thought, vision passed before him, a
vision ot the past, when he too loved,
perhaps as passionately as the victim
now before him; but he is strong, he
shakes off the tempter, he calls to his
aid his good angel, and has gained the
victory. And now he speaks to Alix as
kind father would to his child She
listens, she is moved by the deep ear
nestness of his words, and when he has
finished she feels she can speak, not to
diYulge her secret entirely, but TO speak
of her love, for he will listen to her,
and she unfolds to him the yearnings
of her passionate soul; she tells how
much she has loved, how much she
still loves, how she has prayed, and
felt that He who suffered SO much for
sinners looks down upon her with pity,
not with anger, and the monk listens
and pities, and prays inwardly that she
may have peace.
He rises to leave; she begs he will
return again; he promises to do so,
and, with his blessing upon the fair,
desolate sinner, he disappears.
Every night the same torments are
inflicted by the cruel abyss upon the
young girl, and every day the Carmelite
monk comes to pour balm into the deep
wounds of the soul of the heart-breken
Alix.
At last change takes place; he OBJ
tains permission that she shall be re-
leased from her prison, and she is con-
ducted to a lighter cell; proper food is
given to her; she rallies, and now and
then the monk is seen to walk with her
in the garden, from which height the
great city can be seen. He shows to
her the monuments her young eye can
easily discern; she carelessly asks him
where the Tuileries and the Louvre are,
and from that moment her gaze is con-
stantly fixed on the distant spot.
Under the custody of the abbess she
goes to chapel every day, but otherwise
is entirely separated from the Other
nuns, as it has been decided between
the archbishop and the abbess that the
rules must be broken once upon her ac
count, to please the duke, and it is an
nounced to the sisterhood that a de
scendant of the noble Duke of - il
going to take the veil.
The Carmelite monk has prepared
her, and though he knows well that thu
heart is still rebellious, he feels she
cannot escape her doom, but he vii
watch over her.
The day for the sacrifice has dawned
and the court is going to be represent
ed by all its most brilliant stars. Tht
Queen, who loves all religious ceremo
MES, signifies her intention to be pre-
sent, and the King, who has heard o
the beauty of the dukes daughter