Читать книгу There are Victories - Charles Yale Harrison - Страница 7

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When Ruth was twelve years old she found herself troubled in mind. The tall young priest, who occasionally substituted for old Father Boniface on Sundays, had set the convent afire. True, he was not aware of the impression he made on the Mother Superior’s charges, but he was a sensation nevertheless. He walked toward the chapel lost in thought, oblivious of two hundred pairs of eyes which hungrily followed him. His thoughts were of his duty to God and his heart was filled with a craving for piety and grace. He was tall, dark, and sallow and he wore his snugly fitting cassock with a dandyism ordinarily unassociated with the Church. When he crossed the yard leading to the chapel his skirts swished and flared in a most disturbing manner. At his first appearance at the convent, little Ruth fell hopelessly in love with him, but so, unfortunately, did some two hundred other girls. For weeks Ruth planned to find a way of speaking to him. To stand in his presence, to feel his eyes upon you, to hear his voice addressed only to you! What she would say to him and what he would speak of to her did not enter her mind. The thought was too tremendous to admit analysis. Sometimes of a Saturday he came to the convent to hear confession, and Ruth decided that she must attract the attention of the young priest at all costs. And what could be a better place than in the privacy of a confessional! It was true that a latticed wall separated priest and penitent, but one accepted the fortunes of love and war with fortitude; it was this stoicism which set the warrior apart from his fellows. She would win his pity and attention (she dreaded to think the word “love”—it was too much!) by making a sensational confession.

There were few girls in the chapel and she hurriedly entered the booth, knelt (her heart thumped extravagantly), and said:

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. I confess to Almighty God, to the Blessèd Mary ever Virgin, to Blessèd Michael the Archangel, to Blessèd John the Baptist, to the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul....”

As she recited the list of the holy company, a certain terror seized her. She had completely forgotten John the Baptist and the holy apostles in making her plans. This was a most grievous sin which she was committing. A masculine odor came through the latticed wall and she heard the young priest’s even breathing. These worldly considerations made her forget the eternal punishment which would most certainly await her for using confession for a carnal purpose and she continued:

“... and to all the Saints, that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault. Therefore I beseech the Blessèd Mary ever Virgin....” Here again followed the names of the heavenly company; but this time Ruth was not frightened; she had made her bargain with the Lord and had decided to pay the price. And so on to the end of the confiteor.

She peered through the lattice and with great effort imagined she saw the murky outline of the young priest beyond. Ruth continued:

“Since my last confession two weeks ago I accuse myself of——”

She paused for a moment and in that moment all her plans vanished. She forgot the gaudy sins which were calculated to win the slender priest’s sympathy.

“I—I accuse myself of—of having had impure thoughts and desires.”

Again she paused, expecting to hear a startled exclamation; but the voice of the priest, maddeningly calm, asked:

“And what, my daughter, was the nature of your thoughts?”

She searched her brain for a specific picture of tainted desire but her thoughts remained confused but chaste. A phrase came to her assistance:

“I—I lusted, father.”

The sacerdotal calm behind the lattice continued.

“Lusted after what?”

“After sin!”

“What sin?”

Ruth was now hopelessly involved; her mind refused to function. Sin is sin and this scholastic searching for specific truth brought her to the verge of tears. She floundered and stammered:

“I have—I have forgotten, father.”

“Forgotten your sins?”

“Yes, father.” (Contritely.)

There was a silence as the young priest meditated for a moment; then he announced:

“For little girls who cannot remember and who waste the father confessor’s time—I give ten Hail Marys to be said before going to bed tonight.” There was an amused, tolerant note in his voice. Then: “Thy sins are forgiven thee....”

Hot and confused with shame and disappointment, Ruth left the booth.