PUNISHMENT OF THE MARQUIS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLI, Issue 12546, 13 April 1904, Page 3 (Supplement)

PUNISHMENT OF THE MARQUIS.

A .LEGEND OF THE AZORES. " But I say you shall," shouted the Marquis, " And I say I will not,'' replied Amelia, calmly, " Girls of your age do not know what is best for them, and it is the business of their parents to do with them as they think best. You will become a nun, either by your own will or by force." *' I will not!" "You shall. I tell you you do not know your own mind, and you do not know my temper yet. Amelia 1 would have the courage to drag you by your hair to the altar, it, perchance, you had the daring to disobey me. Your mother knows well of my temper. If she at any time contradicts me—ah!" And the marquis hesitated. Then he continued: "What you desire is to take from me your share of my fortune so that in the future you can feed some blackguard, who, with his eye to tho benefit of that, will marry you. You will bo well off if you wait for thatl" " I desire nothing that belongs to you. In the church I will declare loudly before all that lam forced to profess my vows. 1 will say that such an act is brought about by violence, and that I have been dragged to the altar!" " And I shall bo at your side, and before you insult me by uttering such words I will "bury this sword in your breast. It will be tin example—terrible but necessary— in this cursed time, when children think that they can instruct their parents as to what is best to be done for their welfare. I have no explanation to make to you. You shall not marry the Dom Alfredo. That is all." The Heritor the Marquis do Quadros retired, making the staircase shake with his noble tread. 11. Amelia Etelvita de Quadros, daughter of the Heritor the Marquis Maria de Quadros —the family is now extinct—was one of the most beautiful of the family, which for generations had been known in the Azores for charity, learning, mud the beauty of its womeu. True, there had been a few demented children, but no Azorean family in the day when this story had its making was without that tragedy. Amelialater known as Sister Amelia de Purificacao—at 17, was, like her sisters of the Azores, slightly dark. Under her olive skin the blood flushed red. Riant health was hers. She smiled easily and cheerfully, and her biographer story of her life may still be found in the archives of the Church of St. John— of her: — " Her lips reminded one of the flower of the pomegranate, and her regular and perfect figure was well rounded and had a singular enchantment." There was almost a scandal at the time of the entrance of Amelia as a novice at the convent. Again Iter biographer says; — " She was dragged, rather than coming of her own will, to the/church, and iter father shouted worse than a lost soul. Her uncle, a Franciscan friar, blessed her more than ten times, and her mother, an old noblewoman from the Island of Tereeira, burned many candles to Saint Catharine that she should give some sense to the girl. "The servants of the house were running about for a week in a living ring, carrying letters, now to the convent, and lroiu there to the auditor and from him to the military governor, who at that time united in himself divers powers—commanding troops, sanctioning marriages, and making friars." Amelia resigned herself to enter the litter which was to carry her to church. She declared, however, that she would go in as a novice, not because she wished to be a nun, but merely to free herself from the disagreeable life which she had been leading at her own home. Meanwhile Alfredo, her lover, a youth employed in an English house established in the islands for the trade in Pico wines, had been informed of what was going on. Despite the vigilance of Amelia's family, the two exchanged letters, and more freely than ever after she entered the convent, and had at her disposal more leisure hours in which she could write. It was a simple matter to bribe the servants—all must live. Amelia's novitiate, however, was drawing to a close. The catechising at the convent became more stringent, the hours of prayer longer. The novice lot them talk—talk much —in reverent attitude. In a beatific silence, seated in a big chair, with her pretty head leaning back, and with a smile of acquiescence on her lips, she listened. But while they explained to' Iter tho subtleties of the heavy old books, bound in smooth white leather, she knew not if they were telling her of St. Chrysoatom or St. Anthony of Padua. Instead of tho asceticism of a Trappist, she was delighting herself with very different visions. Site saw fields full of light and flowersgrowing vineyards and medlars, figs and oranges and * the loquat—soft, moonligh" nights, when the lips of those who love come together like the leaves of the lily—and ever the voice of Alfredo in her dreaming came to tell her that there must be courage! One day her father sought her in the convent parlour. This had seldom happened since the beginning of her novitiate. He came in his full captain's uniform, and by his side hung a great sword of most wonderful workmanship, which he swore should be buried with him when lie was translated to other worlds. The Heritor the Marquis de Quadros seated himself near tho grating in an arm-chair, placing his shako upon a table, while his daughter, standing with ayes on the ground, arms hanging limply arid hands crossed — in an attitude of respect and fear, awaited the message of her father. "You know that next week your novitiate will end?" . ■ "I did not know it, my father. "Well, it is so, and ,1 have resolved that you shall profess your final vows us soon as possible. Everything is arranged, and the solemnity will be worth all the splendour of my house. Have you any objection to make to this?" , "One, only, said Amelia. 'The same for which I have suffered so much in our house. I will never be a nun." The marquis restrained his anger and replied:— "Girls of your age do not know what is best for them. You will become a nun either of your own will or by force. I have spoken." Tho marquis left her standing and strode out of the room. The abbess found her there a half-hour later. She had not moved.

That night a longer letter than ever made known to Alfredo the destiny which had been prepared for her, the violence of her father, and the firm resolution which she held— even with the prospect of death at the altar —to resist any such order. The letter closed with a prayer to Alfredo to help her. "Take ino away," she bogged. ' Kescue me. Take me anywhere—only take me quickly, Alfredo, rnio." The servant brought a reply: Alfredo told her that with the means then at his disposal a marriage was out of the question. _ lhat his love for her was unfailing, despite all difficulties, and despite tho opposition of her family . , , . , He added that his master had proposed that he go as supercargo in a barque which was even then loading with wine for England, and that his profits, he hoped, would be such that he could return and marry her. He advised that under the circumstances it were better to gain time until be could return, and then all would be well. In the convent the prayers for the novitiate continued. Her mother came to visit i her, but the poor lady, completely under the influence of her husband, preached a long sermon to her daughter on iho sin of disobedience. Tho wine-laden barque had sailed tor Lngland. Amelia was left alone.

The fatal Sunday dawned at last. From nine o'clock in the morning the people began to crowd the church. Precious Indian vase.-> filled with flowers adorned all the altars. , , , The sacristan for two days had done nothing but try to surpass all his previous efforts in beautifying the building. Mountains of cakes had been baked. Viands of the choicest kinds had been cooked, and great bowls of sweetmeats were made for the refection in the parlour at the close of the religious ceremony. _ . Amelia was alone in hor cell, seemingly unconscious of all that was going on around her. At last three blows sounded on the door. It was the Mother Abbess. "My daughter," she said, " the wished-for hour has come. You fathei awaits you near the dooi of the choir which opens into the body of tho church. We shall have a splendid feast." "What is it my duty to do then, my mother?" " Accompany me as far as the gratings oi the choir. You will be followed by a cornmission of the most qualified sisters of this house. This is tho happiest day of your life.

my daughter, thanks to the goodness of the Most High." "Who knows, Mother Abbess? .. The Abbess made no reply, and Amelia blessed herself instinctively. She kissed the hand of tho Mother Abbess. , '• I am ready, my mother," she said. At the entrance from the choii Amelia gave her hand to her father. Tho vast crowd in tho church looked curiously at the gentlo girl. They crossed the body of the church in front of a crowd of women which drew back to lot them pass up to the high altar. There were tears in many eyes. The Heritor tho Marquis Maria de Quadros had scarcely any time to say to his daughter : ■— "Do not shame me, for love of God, Amelia. Any scandal is for me a question of life or death. Mind, the curse of a father falls heavily on the head of his child." " But you are burying me alive." "1 prefer even that to the shame of a scandal." Tho ritual of the church continued solemn and majestic. Amelia was on her knoos, and felt against her neck the cold scissors which with one cut took off her beautiful hair. , , t "She is guarding her strength," thought her father, "for the moment of the prolession of the oath." . . When that moment arrived ho was livid, frightful. He grasped his sword hilt. The Governor of the Forces, seeing him thus, left his place and went to the side of tho marquis. "Strength, my friend," he said; "you are robbed of a daughter, but you will be greatly recompensed for the sacrifice." Tho marquis leaned toward his kneeling daughter. " We pray for a life here—yours or mine!" he whispered hoarsely. Then tho kneeling girl, taken with a sudden resolution, as if to drain at one gulp the bitter cup which was put before her, took the oath, without a pause, and with a voice which rang throughout the great church. Then tho jubilant peal of the organ made the temple tremble. The incense ascended from tho altar in thick clouds. The sacrifice was finished.

Sister Amelia Purificacao at last arose, wrapped in the veil of a spiritual bride. The rejoicings continued. Sho telt something snap in her breast. She raised her handkerchief to her lips, and when she took it. away she saw that it was tinged with blood. For two months she dragged out a miserable existence in the gardens of the convent. Blood was often on her lips. Tho roses were budding. "If 1 could only live to see them bloom," she cried, and stretched her arms toward the north—toward England and Alfredo. At the close of the spring, when the roses bloomed, the Heritor the Marquis Maria de Quadros received a letter from tho Mother Abbess telling him that God counted one more angel in His Heaven—that his daughter no longer lived. " A good daughter," said the Heritor. "Obedient, and a friend of her family's greatness."

The marquis lived many years, and was a splendid administrator of his property, lie enriched his heir with much land, vineyards, and rentals. Then ho died and was buried in the ('anno, in the tomb of his family. Many years passed by, and one day, after the convents had been abolished, it became necessary to make some repairs in the chapel under which was the tomb of the Quadros family. The stone which served as the cover to the entrance to the tomb was lifted. Underneath, with. a sword of wonderful workmanship, clasped in Iwny fingers, lay the skeleton of a man. On the under side of the great stone and on the walls of the tombs were marks as those made by the chisel of a stonemason. The sword was nicked and broken. "What devil is this;" cried tho mason. "It must tie that someone has tried to escape from his tomb." They called the sacristan. "That must, have been somebody buried alive 1" he said. Then he lighted an enormous cigarette. "Would it be a man or a woman?" asked the stonemason. " Who can know that';" replied the sacristan. " Long ago these things were always happening. But wait—" Going to the altar, he took a. candle from tho candlestick, lighted it and descended the steps into the tomb. A few minutes later he returned. "The Heritor the Marquis Maria de Quadros was th" last person buried in this tomb," he said. "The coffin is broken open. How ho must have suffered beating against those walls with his sword—and nobody could hear him!" "Who knows but it might have been a punishment for something that he had done?" said the stonemason. " That is hardly probable. My father often spoke of the, marquis as a most exemplary man. His brother was a friar of Ponta Del gada, and be had a daughter, who was the sister Amelia Purificacao. Ah, I know the history." Then the sacristan and the stonemason placed tho bones again in the niche, put the stone door in its position and sealed the tomb with lime.