Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1896-02-24
e Convent Under Arms.

uring my first trip to Spain made
udy of an old abandoned convent.
ed to work under the arches OF
cloister, while the hidalgo who
inarily served as my guide and
ried my outfit slumbered in some
ner, wrapped in his cloak, proud
n in sleep.
utside climbing plants twined
ut the saints in stone; lining their
WINS and seeking support from
ir secular hands, they shot their
Ver-l laden branches through the
rs. The sun shone, and the shadow
the pillars on the white flagstones
rked the passing hour. Amid the
icious silence of the ruins, whisper
to my soul memories of the past, [
thinking of the subject [ might
mt in this magnificent background.
evoked the personages that the
pity cloister had seen; first the long
of monks carrying to the vaults
body of a venerable prior, or else
turning gaily from the refectory;
I'm the silhouettes of dark inquisi
is, or some rosy checked young
bnks weaving garlands of roses for
virgin.
khl the happy landscape painter
q enliven his pictures with certain
eepted formul8; red touch here
bans a shepherdess in the distance;
brown spot there represents a COW
d several herd. But the poor fig
e-painter, alas! does not get off so
silly.
Every day, at the same hour, an old
asant woman of noble bearing came
id sat on the same stone within a
" steps of me, and knitted without
bring until evening. She was near
blind.
although my hidalgo did not speak
rench, and knew but little Spanish,
, managed to make me understand
i at she was the guardian of the con-
ent. Her father when he was alive
eing a barber by trade, and some
hat of a gardener, used to shave the
[onks and cultivate their kitchen
brden. He lived in little hut built
the outer arcades of the monastery;
bid since his death his daughter re-
(ained there, living on what she re-
Bived from passing travellers. She
as very old, and the oldest inhabit-
nts said that formerly she had been
cry pretty.
The day finished my work it hap
ened that she was not in her accus-
omed place; and wishing to leave her
ly offering [ requested the proud hi
algo to accompany me to her abode,
here found her busy putting away
ome rags in an old Golfer as best she
ould.
AS soon as she learned that I was
Ding away her face assumed all eX-
ression of sorrow, and she began to
Xix to me with great volubility. did
OF understand her jargon. All could
lake out was the name of Vibert, re-
Gated several times, as we'll as that
f Napoleon. Being greatly puzzled
, find out how this woman could
now me, begged my guide to act as
Interpreter.
"Well," said he, "the old woman
SKIS whether you are infantry SOL
ier."
GA light infantry soldier?"
eyes; one of Napoleon's infantry.
he fact is, your voice reminds her of
French soldier-a sergeant
new, whose lite she saved, and his
anne was Jean Pierre ViDert. He had
our walk, your figure, and your
dice especially the voice, she says.
his is all she can recognize with her
reak eyes. He had promised to re-
urn, with Napoleon! She is still wait
1g for him!"
''Jean Pierre Vibert soldier under
a sergeant of infantry?
Why, that is my grandfather"
''She asks whether he is still alive"
eyes; certainly"
s'Then she does not want your
honey, and she says she will die hap
Y if you will only kiss her"
L began to be moved by this strange
Gene, and willingly acceded to the
DOR woman's wish. l kissed her on
he cheek, and felt burning tear on
ny lips. She pressed me for an in
tant in her thin arms; then with her
rembling hands rummaging in her
offer, she brought out a rag which
he put into my hand, and in voice
hoked with sobs she said, s'Por Ped
o, por Pedro"
L took the deposit she confided to
he. 1t was the half of a silk hand
erchIef with flowers, the colors of
Yhlch were faded. She arose toUter
ng, repeated once more, ''Por Ped