The
word--what was the word? what was the name of the spirit--Turshoon? Yes, methinks it was Turshoon. Mother! mother! help your daughter." "Dost thou call upon the Blessed Virgin, my child?" said Father
Mathias, who had entered the room as she pronounced the last words. "If so, thou dost well, for she may appear to thee in thy dreams, and
strengthen thee in the true faith." "I called upon my own mother, who is in the land of spirits, good
father," replied Amine. "Yes; but, as an infidel; not, I fear, in the land of the blessed
spirits, my child." "She hardly will be punished for following the creed of her fathers,
living where she did, where no other creed was known?" replied Amine,
indignantly. "If the good on earth are blessed in the next world--if
she had, as you assert she had, a soul to be saved--an immortal
spirit--He who made that spirit will not destroy it because she
worshipped as her fathers did.--Her life was good: why should she
be punished for ignorance of that creed which she never had an
opportunity of rejecting?" "Who shall dispute the will of Heaven, my child? Be thankful that you
are permitted to be instructed, and to be received into the bosom of
the holy church." "I am thankful for many things, father; but I am weary, and must wish
you a good-night." Amine retired to her room--but not to sleep. Once more did she attempt
the ceremonies used by her mother, changing them each time, as
doubtful of her success. Again the censer was lighted--the charm
essayed; again the room was filled with smoke as she threw in the
various herbs which she had knowledge of, for all the papers thrown
aside at her father's death had been carefully collected, and on many
were directions found as to the use of those herbs. "The word! the
word! I have the first--the second word! Help me, mother!" cried
Amine, as she sat by the side of the bed, in the room, which was now
so full of smoke that nothing could be distinguished. "It is of no
use," thought she at last, letting her hands fall at her side; "I have
forgotten the art. Mother! mother! help me in my dreams this night." The smoke gradually cleared away, and, when Amine lifted up her eyes,
she perceived a figure standing before her. At first she thought she
had been successful in her charm; but, as the figure became more
distinct, she perceived that it was Father Mathias, who was looking at
her with a severe frown and contracted brow, his arms folded before
him. "Unholy child! what dost thou?" Amine had roused the suspicions of the priests, not only by her
conversation, but by several attempts which she had before made to
recover her lost art; and on one occasion, in which she had defended
it, both Father Mathias and Father Seysen had poured out the bitterest
anathemas upon her, or anyone who had resort to such practices. The
smell of the fragrant herbs thrown into the censer, and the smoke,
which afterwards had escaped through the door and ascended the stairs,
had awakened the suspicions of Father Mathias, and he had crept up
silently, and entered the room without her perceiving it. Amine at
once perceived her danger. Had she been single, she would have dared
the priest; but, for Philip's sake, she determined to mislead him. "I do no wrong, father," replied she, calmly; "but it appears to me
not seemly that you should enter the chamber of a young woman during
her husband's absence. I might have been in my bed. It is a strange
intrusion." "Thou canst not mean this, woman! My age--my profession--are a
sufficient warranty," replied Father Mathias, somewhat confused at
this unexpected attack. "Not always, Father, if what I have been told of monks and priests
be true," replied Amine. "I ask again, why comest thou here into an
unprotected woman's chamber?" "Because I felt convinced that she was practising unholy arts." "Unholy arts!--what mean you? Is the leech's skill unholy? is it
unholy to administer relief to those who suffer?--to charm the
fever and the ague which rack the limbs of those who live in this
unwholesome climate?" "All charms are most unholy." "When I said charms, Father, I meant not what you mean; I simply would
have said a remedy. If a knowledge of certain wonderful herbs,
which, properly combined will form a specific to ease the suffering
wretch--an art well known unto my mother, and which I now would fain
recall--if that knowledge, or a wish to regain that knowledge, be
unholy, then are you correct." "I heard thee call upon thy mother for her help." "I did, for she well knew the ingredients; but I, I fear have not the
knowledge that she had. Is that sinful, good Father?" "'Tis, then, a remedy that you would find?" replied the priest; "I
thought that thou didst practise that which is most unlawful." "Can the burning of a few weeds be then unlawful? What did you expect
to find? Look you, Father, at these ashes--they may, with oil, be
rubbed into the pores and give relief--but can they do more? What do
you expect from them--a ghost?--a spirit?--like the prophet raised for
the King of Israel?" And Amine laughed aloud. "I am perplexed, but not convinced," replied the priest. "I, too, am perplexed and not convinced," responded Amine, scornfully. "I cannot satisfy myself that a man of your discretion could really
suppose that there was mischief in burning weeds; nor am I convinced
that such was the occasion of your visit at this hour of the night to
a lone woman's chamber. There may be natural charms more powerful than
those you call supernatural. I pray you, Father, leave this chamber. It is not seemly. Should you again presume, you leave the house. I
thought better of you. In future, I will not be left at any time
alone." This attack of Amine's upon the reputation of the old priest was too
severe. Father Mathias immediately quitted the room, saying, as he
went out, "May God forgive you for your false suspicions and great
injustice! I came here for the cause I have stated, and no more." "Yes!" soliloquised Amine, as the door closed, "I know you did; but I
must rid myself of your unwelcome company. I will have no spy upon my
actions--no meddler to thwart me in my will. In your zeal you have
committed yourself, and I will take the advantage you have given me. Is not the privacy of a woman's chamber to be held sacred by you
sacred men? In return for assistance in distress--for food and
shelter--you would become a spy. How grateful, and how worthy of the
creed which you profess!" Amine opened her door as soon as she had
removed the censer, and summoned one of the women of the house to
stay that night in her room, stating that the priest had entered her
chamber, and she did not like the intrusion. "Holy father! is it possible?" replied the woman. Amine made no reply, but went to bed; but Father Mathias heard all
that passed as he paced the room below. The next day he called upon
Father Seysen, and communicated to him what had occurred, and the
false suspicions of Amine.