The bridge of San Luis Rey - Thornton Wilder [42]
But where are sufficient books to contain the events that would not have been the same without the fall of the bridge? From such a number I choose one more. "The Condesa d'Abuirre wishes to see you," said a lay-sister at the door of the Abbess's office. "Well," Said the Abbess, laying down her pen, "who is she?" "She has just come from Spain. I don't know." "Oh, it is some money, Inez, some money for my house for the blind. Quick, bid her come in." The tall, rather languorous beauty entered the room. Do�lara, who was generally so adequate, seemed constrained for once. "Are you busy, dear Mother, may I talk to you for a while?" "I am quite free, my daughter. You will excuse an old woman's memory; have I known you before?" "My mother was the Marquesa de Montemayor...." Do�lara suspected that the Abbess had not admired her mother and would not let the older woman speak until she herself had made a long passionate defense of Do�ar� The languor fell away in her self-approach. At last the Abbess told her of Pepita and Esteban, and of Camila's visit. "All, all of us have failed. One wishes to be punished. One is willing to assume all kinds of penance, but do you know, my daughter, that in love--I scarcely dare say it--but in love our very mistakes don't seem to be able to last long?" The Condesa showed the Abbess Do�ar�s last letter. Madre Mar�dared not say aloud how great her astonishment was that such words (words that since then the whole world has murmured over with joy) could spring in the heart of Pepita's mistress. "Now learn," she commanded herself, "learn at last that anywhere you may expect grace." And she was filled with happiness like a girl at this new proof that the traits she lived for were everywhere, that the world was ready. "Will you do me a kindness, my daughter? Will you let me show you my work?" The sun had gone down, but the Abbess led the way with a lantern down corridor after corridor. Do�lara saw the old and the young, the sick and the blind, but most of all she saw the tired, bright old woman who was leading her. The Abbess would stop in a passageway and say suddenly: "I can't help thinking that something could be done for the deaf-and-dumb. It seems to me that some patient person could,... could study out a language for them. You know there are hundreds and hundreds in Peru. Do you remember whether anyone in Spain has found a way for them? Well, some day they will." Or a little later: "Do you know, I keep thinking that something can be done for the insane. I am old, you know, and I cannot go where these things are talked about, but I watch them sometimes and it seems to me... In Spain, now, they are gentle with them? It seems to me that there is a secret about it, just hidden from us, just around the corner. Some day back in Spain, if you hear of anything that would help us, you will write me a letter... if you are not too busy?" At last after Do�lara had seen even the kitchens, the Abbess said: "Now will you excuse me, for I must go into the room of the very sick and say a few words for them to think about when they cannot sleep. I will not ask you to come with me there, for you are not accustomed to such... such sounds and things. And besides I only talk to them as one talks to children." She looked up at her with her modest rueful smile. Suddenly she disappeared a moment to return with one of her helpers, one who had likewise been involved in the affair of the bridge and who had formerly been an actress. "She is leaving me," said the Abbess, "for some work across the city and when I have spoken here I must leave you both, for the flour-broker will not wait for me any longer, and our argument will take a long time." But Do�lara stood in the door as the Abbess talked to them, the lamp placed on the floor beside her. Madre Mar�stood