The next day, no remark was made on my absence, which was thought to proceed from a remnant of resentment at the treatment of the previous day, and my bold air confirmed that opinion. I attended mass like the others, but did not communicate, though they did; for, to speak truth, I was above being ashamed of not following their example. Love had dispelled all my prejudices, and the presence of my lover, whom I could see lounging about the church, compensated for all. Many of my companions would have gladly quitted the spiritual food for a like alternative. My eyes threw more glances of love on my Martin than of devotion on the altar. In the eyes of a woman of the world, he would have appeared but a clown, in mine he was a very Cupid, with all his youth and graces. His secret worth made me pass lightly over the meanness of his outward appearance. I could perceive, however, that he had trimmed himself up that day, and assumed an air of greater importance. I was gratified by this change, which I attributed rather to a desire to please me than to honor the saint whose feast it was that day. I saw him look at the boarders with an endeavor to distinguish me; I did not wish him to succeed in so doing, so I took care to hide my face; but I should have been vexed if he had not made the attempt. I was now over head and ears in love, and awaited the night with the utmost impatience, in order to redeem the word I had pledged.
That night, so ardently desired, at last came. It struck twelve! Oh! In what agitation I was! I trembled as I passed along the corridor, and though everybody was asleep, I felt as if they were all looking at me. I had no other light to guide me than that of love; and, as I walked in the darkness, I thought that, if Martin failed in being at the rendezvous, I should expire with vexation. However he was there, as amorous and impatient as I was punctual. I had but few clothes on, for I found the evening before that petticoats, stays, collars, etc. were only so many hindrances to love. As soon as I found the door open, a transport of joy made me abruptly finish my reverie; and I called Martin in a low voice. He heard me, rushed into my arms, caressed, and kissed me. We were some time closely locked in a mutual embrace, but when the first joy of meeting was past, we set about finding another greater and more solid. I carried my hand to the source of my pleasures, and he did not delay putting his where I so very much wanted it. He was soon in a condition to satisfy me, and undressing himself, made a bed for me of his clothes, on which I laid down. Our pleasures succeeded each other for two hours with such rapidity and force, that it seemed almost as if we had not yet tasted them, or were enjoying them for the first time. In the heat of passion, we think little of husbanding our strength, and the ardor of my lover no longer equalled mine; so it became necessary to force ourselves from each other's arms and retire to our respective dormitories.
Our happiness lasted only a month, including the period that repose was absolutely necessary; during those three or four days, the thought of Martin supplied the place of his personal presence. How happily passed the nights when I was in his embrace! Alas, I have had many a long and disagreeable one since I lost him.
But I had reason to tremble at the consequence of our pleasures, for I perceived that my courses did not appear at the proper time. I was at first surprised at the circumstance, having often heard say that it was a sign of breeding. I often had pains in my stomach, and fits of weakness. “Oh!” cried I, “what an unhappy wretch I am-it is indeed true that I am pregnant!” And a torrent of tears followed my exclamation.
One night, after receiving from Martin the usual testimonial of his unabating love for me, he perceived that I sighed sorrowfully, and that the hand which he held trembled; for when my passion was satisfied, uneasiness took the place in my heart that love had before occupied. He asked me eagerly the cause of my agitation, and gently remonstrated with me for making a mystery of my troubles.-“Alas! Martin,” I said to him, “you have ruined me! Do not suppose that my love for you is not the same; I have within me a distressing proof of it-I am pregnant.”-This news was altogether unexpected by him. But his surprise was followed by a profound reverie, which I knew not what to make of. Martin was my only hope in this dreadful crisis, and as he seemed to hesitate, what could I think!-“Perhaps,” thought I, quite depressed by his silence, “perhaps he intends to run away, and abandon me to my despair.” My tears began to flow, and he perceived them. Kind and faithful, as I feared he might be unfeeling and perfidious, while I was supposing him occupied with the thought of deserting me, he was in reality devising means to dry up my tears by removing their cause. He embraced me, and said that he knew a way of relieving me from my embarrassment. I was less delighted to hear this than to ascertain that my suspicions of his love were groundless. His assurance of affording me assistance restored my spirits, and I was curious to know what must be done to deliver me of my burden.
He Said he would give me something to take which was in his master's closet, and of which mother Angelica had made experience before me. I wanted to know what particular connection Father Jerome had with her; as I hated her mortally, because she appeared the most violent against me in the affair with Verland. She was so exceedingly rigid in her external conduct, for the purpose of more securely veiling the vices and corruptions of her privacy, as she had a regular intrigue with Father Jerome. Martin told me all about it, and said that he had found among his master's papers a letter of hers, in which she communicated to him the fact of her being in precisely the same condition as myself; and from another he learned that the Father had sent her a bottle of the liquor I was to use, which had done wonders in removing the inconvenience under which she labored.-“My dear Martin,” said I, “pray bring me some of this liquor tomorrow, and you will save me a world of troubles.” And, looking still farther, I thought that by means of these letters, I might take vengeance on Mother Angelica; so I asked Martin to bring them. He, not knowing what such imprudence was to cost us, promised to bring them with the phial of medicine.
The next night he fulfilled his promise; and, though very eager to read the letters I postponed so doing till morning, that suspicion might not be excited by a light being seen in my room at that hour. When the morning dawned I began to peruse them. They were written in passionate language, and were but little in conformity with the apparently austere manners and life of the parties concerned. She there painted her amorous frenzy in expressions of which I had never thought her capable; in short, she wrote powerfully and without restraint, supposing that the Father would follow her advice in burning her letters as soon as he had read them.-He omitted this precaution, and thus ensured my triumph. I mused for a long time on what method I should adopt for ruining my enemy. To give them myself to the Superior would have been a dangerous step: as I must then have explained how they came into my possession, to have employed another person might possibly prove equally injurious to my honor. I chose therefore to leave them myself at the door of the Superior at the moment that I was sure she was going in. What a fool I was! I ought rather to have burned them and thus have saved myself all the misery consequent on losing my lover; and this reflexion, had it occurred to me, would certainly have extinguished my resentment. What gratification could revenge afford me to be compared with the loss of Martin? No; he was a thousand times more precious than what occupied me at that moment. I did not put off the execution of my project any longer than was requisite to get myself out of the danger now pressing me. I had asked Martin for a” truce of eight days, which had not yet expired. I executed the scheme as above detailed, and it had the effect I expected. The Superior found the letters, sent for Mother Angelica, and convicted her. It is possible that she might have obtained her pardon had not another and greater crime, which women never forgive, rendered her punishment “necessary for the repose of the Superior, whose rival she was with the fornicating old monk. The Superior, indeed, had an artificial succour to relieve the violence of her longings, but it is not easy to content oneself with such a paltry alternative when the real thing is to be had.