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Updated: May 8, 2025
Doucebelle determined that, if she could possibly contrive it, without wounding the feelings of Father Nicholas, her next confession should be made to Father Bruno. He seemed to her to be a man made of altogether different metal from his colleagues. Master Aristoteles kept himself entirely to physical ailments, and never heard a confession, except from the sick in emergency.
I sha'n't get over it for a week, if I do then! Oh, how very shocking! Look, Doucebelle, aren't these cowslips sweet?" "Eva, wilt thou let me have some of the white flowers for Margaret?" said Doucebelle. "For Margaret! why, what dost thou mean? Oh! To put by her in her coffin? Horrid! Really, Dulcie, I think that is great waste.
And, as was generally the case when he had said all he thought necessary at the moment, Bruno rose, and with a benediction quitted the room. "Call that loving!" said Eva, contemptuously, when he was gone. "Poor tame stuff! I should not thank you for it." "Well, I should," said Doucebelle, quietly. "Oh, thou!" was Eva's answer, in the same tone. "Why, thou hast no heart to begin with."
"I do not like him; I love him," said Belasez, with more warmth than usual. "What a confession!" answered Doucebelle, playfully. "Oh, not that sort of love!" responded Belasez with a tinge of scorn. "I think it must be the sort that we can take into Heaven with us."
Doucebelle looked up in surprise at the tone, and saw that Belasez was in tears. "We had priests," said the young Jewess. "We had sons of Aaron, and a temple, and an altar, and a holy oracle, whereby the Blessed One made known His will in all matters of doubt and perplexity to His people. But where are they now? The mountains of Zion are desolate, and the foxes walk upon them.
Belasez had been unusually silent that morning. She worked on in a hurried, nervous way, never speaking nor looking up, and a lovely arabesque pattern grew into beauty under her deft fingers. Suddenly Doucebelle said "Belasez, does life never puzzle thee?" Belasez looked up, with almost a frightened expression in her eyes.
She could imagine no evil tidings except as associated with him. Doucebelle conquered her unwillingness to speak, by a strong effort. "Yes, dear Margaret, it is about him. The " "Is he dead?" asked Margaret, hurriedly. "No." "I thought, if it had been that," she hesitated. "Margaret, didst thou not expect something more to happen?" "Something what? I see!" and her tone changed. "It is marriage."
"Belasez, what are your sacred books? You seem to have some." "We gave them to you," was Belasez's reply. "But ye have added to them." "But the Scriptures were given to the Church!" remonstrated Doucebelle with some surprise. "I know not what ye mean by the Church," answered the Jewess. "They were ours, given to our fathers, revealed to them by the Holy One.
"Had our Lord sent thee to clear His Temple of the profane who desecrated it by traffic, thou wouldst have overthrown the tables of the money-changers, but not the seats of them that sold doves." Beatrice and Doucebelle answered by a smile of intelligence; Eva looked rather dissatisfied. "But it is not a sin to be happy, Father?" asked Margaret in a low voice.
I suppose that is a selfish feeling. But it is so hard!" "My poor darling!" was all that Doucebelle could say. "Father Bruno said, that so long as we kept saying, `My will be done, we must not expect God to comfort us. Yet how are we to give over? O Dulcie, I thought I was beginning to submit, and this has stirred all up again. My heart cries out and says, `This shall not be!
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