A Mortal Glamour Read Online Free PDF Page A

and her eyes downcast.
    "I am tired,” he offered as an explanation, though it was no answer at all. “The sun is dropping in the sky and my soul turns inward. Forgive me."
    Seur Ranegonde nodded. “Thus does God touch our lives.” Then she looked away toward the hospice again. “If I may not tend your mule, would you permit me to lead you to our new Superior so that she may greet you?"
    "I would be most grateful.” He did not wish to be alone with his memories any longer. He permitted Seur Ranegonde to lead the way. “It will be Vespers soon,” he observed so that Seur Ranegonde would feel free to speak to him.
    "It will. My Sisters will come together for devotions then.” She stood aside so that he might enter the building ahead of her. “Mère Léonie spends this time in the chapel at her devotions."
    "I will wait for her; I do not wish to distract her.” This information surprised him, since he could remember the many times Mère Jacinthe excused her nuns from strict exercise of faith. Undoubtedly there was a new spirit in Le Tres Saunt Annunciacion. He was more curious than before about the new Superior.
    At the door to the chapel, Seur Ranegonde once again stood aside. “Mère Léonie is at prayer,” she said, and bowed her head before turning away.
    "You need not wait, Seur Ranegonde,” Père Guibert said, his attention already on the prostrate form of Mère Léonie.
    "Deo gratias,” Seur Ranegonde whispered, her trembling hands fluttering in her full sleeves. She waited a moment in case there should be any other service required of her, then hastened away.
    Père Guibert stepped inside the chapel, crossing himself and sinking to his knees a little distance behind Mère Léonie. He quietly began to recite his beads while studying the figure in grey who lay face-down with arms outstretched in front of the altar. He was struck, as he had been with increasing frequency, with the anonymity of religious life. Even the habit conspired to remove all trace of the person who wore it. At one time it had seemed laudable to the priest but now he no longer trusted the garments; there might be anything inside them. He stifled a sound in his throat, and was not entirely displeased to see Mère Léonie look up.
    "God be with you,” she said as she got swiftly to her feet.
    "And with your soul,” he answered, caught off-guard.
    "You are our priest? Père ... Guibert?"
    He liked her confusion; it made her less of a puzzle to him. “I am a day or two early. I could not reach Fôrlebene, and so I came directly here. The monks will have to wait until the road is passable."
    "Has the winter been so severe?” Mère Léonie inquired.
    "Apparently so. They have been much troubled by their isolation.” He felt that he had to explain his lack of tenacity a bit more completely. “If I still had my escort, then it would have been another matter."
    "Of course,” Mère Léonie agreed. She knelt for his blessing. “You are thrice welcome here, Père Guibert. My Sisters have great need of you, I fear. With so much despair and suffering around us, there is...” She made a gesture of resignation. “There is much to ... to pray for,” she finished, though Père Guibert had the oddest feeling that she had intended to say something else. “I am grateful you have come."
    Such a forthright declaration was disconcerting to Père Guibert, who was used to more subservient nuns. “Mère Léonie—"
    "I do not mean to overstep myself, mon Père,” she interrupted him, “but my concern prompts me to tell you of my worry.” She looked up, as if appealing to Heaven itself. “These nuns, this convent ... all are ... neglected."
    This touched so closely to Père Guibert's doubts that he almost spoke of his own anguish, but frowned deeply and made a compromise admission. “There are many such. We have reason to worry."
    "Yes. I have seen that. Yet though I pray for the salvation of all mankind, as we are enjoined to do by the Savior, it