368
A MATER DOLOROSA
Still I knelt, waiting judgment, with the child
Clasped to my bosom, daring not to raise
My eyes to the face above me. Well I knew
It was the priest's face, not the painter's, now!
Was it his voice that through the silence stole,
"A little child shall lead them," murmuring low?
Just for one instant on my head a hand
Fell as in benediction. Then he said
"Arise, my daughter, and come thou with me
Where bide the holy sisters of St. Clare,
Ruled by their abbess, saintliest of all
The saintly sisterhood. By work and prayer,
Fasting and penance, thou shalt purge thy soul
Of all iniquity, and make it clean."
Startled I answered him—"But who will care.
For Nello then? His mother died last week,
And Beppo's heart is buried in her grave—
He cares not for the child, nor gives him love."
But with a wide sweep of his beckoning arm
Down the long cloisters strode he, and across
The heated pavement of the market-place,
Nor looked to see if we were following him.
Until he paused before the convent gate;
Then rang the bell, and in the pause I heard.
The sisters chanting, and grew faint with shame.
"Fear not, my child," Fra Alessandro said.
"Here comes Jacinta. Go you in with her,
And straightway tell the abbess all the tale
Told unto me this day. Farewell!" The gate
Swung to with iron clang, and Nello's arms
Half strangled me as round my neck he clung,
Awed by the holy stillness.
Since that hour
I with the humble sisters of St. Clare
Have given myself to deeds of mercy, works
Clasped to my bosom, daring not to raise
My eyes to the face above me. Well I knew
It was the priest's face, not the painter's, now!
Was it his voice that through the silence stole,
"A little child shall lead them," murmuring low?
Just for one instant on my head a hand
Fell as in benediction. Then he said
"Arise, my daughter, and come thou with me
Where bide the holy sisters of St. Clare,
Ruled by their abbess, saintliest of all
The saintly sisterhood. By work and prayer,
Fasting and penance, thou shalt purge thy soul
Of all iniquity, and make it clean."
Startled I answered him—"But who will care.
For Nello then? His mother died last week,
And Beppo's heart is buried in her grave—
He cares not for the child, nor gives him love."
But with a wide sweep of his beckoning arm
Down the long cloisters strode he, and across
The heated pavement of the market-place,
Nor looked to see if we were following him.
Until he paused before the convent gate;
Then rang the bell, and in the pause I heard.
The sisters chanting, and grew faint with shame.
"Fear not, my child," Fra Alessandro said.
"Here comes Jacinta. Go you in with her,
And straightway tell the abbess all the tale
Told unto me this day. Farewell!" The gate
Swung to with iron clang, and Nello's arms
Half strangled me as round my neck he clung,
Awed by the holy stillness.
Since that hour
I with the humble sisters of St. Clare
Have given myself to deeds of mercy, works
