section 4 of black spirits and white a book of ghost stories by ralph adams cram recording by andrew gaunts sister madeleine across the valley of the areto from monreali on the slopes of the mountains just above the little village of parko lies the old convent of santa catarina from the cloister terrace at monreal you can see its pale walls and the slim campanile of its chapel rising from the crowded citron and mulberry orchards that flourish rank and wild no longer cared for by pious and loving
hands from the rough road that climbs these mountains to esunto the convent is invisible a gnarled and ragged olive grove intervening and a spur of cliffs as well while from palermo one sees only the speck of white flashing in the sun indistinguishable from the many similar gleams of desert monastery or popper village partly because of the seclusion partly by reason of its extreme beauty partly it may be because the present owners are more than charming and gracious in their pressing hospitalit
y santa catarina seems to preserve an element of the poetic almost magical and as i drove with the cavalieri valgenero one evening in march out of palermo along the garden valley of the areto then up the mountainside where the warm light of the spring sunset swept across from monreal lying golden and mellow on the luxury and growth of figs and olives and orange trees and fantastic cacti and so up to where the path of the convent swung off to the right round a dizzy point of cliff that reached ou
t gaunt and gray from the olives below as i drove thus in the balmy air and saw the sudden of vision of creamy walls and orange roofs draped in fantastic festoons of roses with a single curving palm tree stuck black and feathery against the gold sunset it is hardly to be wondered at that i should slip into a mood of visionary enjoyment looking for a time on the whole thing as the misty phantasm of a summer dream the cavalieri had introduced himself to us tom rendell and me one morning soon after
we reached palermo when in the first bewilderment of architects in this paradise of art and color we were working nobly at our sketches in that dream of delight the capella palatina he was himself an amateur archaeologist he told us and passionately devoted to his island so he felt impelled to speak to anyone whom he saw appreciating the almost and in a way fortunately unknown beauties of palermo in a little time we were fully acquainted and talking like the oldest friends of course he knew acq
uaintances of rendles someone always does this time they were officers on the tubby uss quinnipog that during the summer of 1888 was trying to uphold the maritime honor of the united states and european waters luckily for us one of the officers was a kind of cousin of rendles and came from baltimore as well so as he had visited at the cavalieri's place we were soon invited to do the same it was in this way that with the luck that attends rendell wherever he goes we came to see something of domes
tic life in italy and that i found myself involved in another of those adventures for which i naturally sought so little i wonder if there is any other place in sicily so faultless as santa catarina taurmina is a paradise an epitome of all that is beautiful in italy venice accepted genti is a solemn epic with its golden temples between the sea and hills jafalu is wild and strange and monreal a vision out of a fairy tale but santa catarina fancy a convent of creamy stone and rose red brick perche
d on a ledge of rock midway between earth and heaven the cliff falling almost sheer to the valley 200 feet and more the mountain rising behind straight towards the sky all the rocks covered with cactus and dwarf fig trees the convent draped in smothering roses and in front a terrace with a fountain in the midst and then nothing between you and the sapphire sea six miles away below stretches the eden valley the conchadoro gold green fig orchards alternating with smoke blue olives the mountains ri
sing on either hand and sinking unjustly away towards the bay where like a magic city of ivory and naked palermo lies guarded by the twin mountains monte pellegrino and capo zafarano arid rocks like dull amethysts rose in sunlight violet and shadow lion's couchent guarding the sleeping town seen as we saw it for the first time that hot evening in march with the golden lambent light pouring down through the valley making it in verity a shell of gold sitting in indian chairs on the terrace with th
e perfume of roses and jasmines all around us the valley of the areto palermo santa catarina monreali all were but parts of a dreamy vision like the heavenly city of sir percival to attain which he passed across the golden bridge that burned after him as he vanished in the intolerable light of the beatific vision it was also unreal so fantasmal that i was not surprised in the least when late in the evening after the ladies had gone to their rooms and the cavalieri tom and i were stretched out in
chairs on the terrace smoking lazily under the multitudinous stars the cavalieri said there is something i really must tell you both before you go to bed so that you may be spared any unnecessary alarm you are going to say that the place is haunted said rendal feeling vaguely on the floor beside him for his glass of amaro thank you it is all it needs the cavalieri smiled a little yes that is just it santa catarina is really haunted and much as my reason revolts against the idea is superstitious
and savoring of priest craft yet i must acknowledge i see no way of avoiding the admission i do not presume to offer any explanations i only state the fact and the fact is that tonight one or the other of you will in all human or unhuman probability receive a visit from sister madeleine you need not be in the least afraid the apparition is perfectly gentle and harmless and moreover having seen it once you will never see it again no one sees the ghost or whatever it is more than once and that us
ually the first night he spends in the house i myself saw the thing eight nine years ago when i first bought the place from the marchese de moxaro all my people have seen it nearly all my guests so i think you may as well be prepared then tell us what to expect i said what kind of ghost is this nocturnal visitor it is simple enough sometime tonight you will suddenly awake and see before you a carmelite nun who will look fixedly at you say distinctly and very sadly i cannot sleep and then vanish
that is all that is hardly worth speaking of only some people are terribly frightened if they are visited unwarned by strange apparitions so i tell you this that you may be prepared this was a carmelite convent then i said yes it was suppressed after the unification of italy and given to the house of macsaro but the family died out and i bought it there is a story about the ghostly nun who was only a novice and even that unwillingly which gives an interest to an otherwise very commonplace and un
interesting ghost i beg that you will tell it us cried rendle there is a storm coming i added see the lightning is flashing already up among the mountains at the head of the valley if the story is tragic as it must be now is just the time for it you will tell it will you not the cavalieri smiled that slow cryptic smile of his that was so unfathomable as you say there is a shower coming and as we have fierce tempests here we might not sleep so perhaps we may as well sit up a little longer and i w
ill tell you the story the air was utterly still hot and oppressive the rich sick odor of the oranges just bursting into bloom came up from the valley in a gently rising tide the sky thick with stars seemed mirrored in the rich foliage below so numerous were the glow worms under the still trees and the fireflies that gleamed in the hot air lightning flashed fitfully from the darkening west but as yet no thunder broke the heavy silence the cavalieri lighted another cigar and pulled a cushion unde
r his head so that he could look down to the distant lights of the city this is the story he said once upon a time late in the last century the duca de castellione was attached to the court of charles iii king of the two sicilies down at palermo they tell me he was very ambitious and not content with marrying his son to one of the ladies of the house of tuscany had betrothed his only daughter rosalia to prince antonio a cousin of the king his whole life was wrapped up in the fame of his family a
nd he quite forgot all domestic affection in his madness for dynastic glory his son was a worthy scion cold and proud but rosalia was according to legend utterly the reverse a passionate beautiful girl willful and headstrong and careless of her family and the world the time had nearly come for her to marry prince antonio a typical roue of the spanish court when through the treachery of a servant the duke discovered that his daughter was in love with a young military officer whose name i don't re
member and that an elopement had been planned to take place the next night the fury and dismay of the old autocrat passed belief he saw in a flash the downfall of all his hopes of family aggrandizement through union with the royal house and knowing well the spirit of his daughter despaired of ever bringing her to subjection nevertheless he attacked her unmercifully and by bullying and threats by imprisonment and even bodily chastisement he tried to break her spirit and bend her to his indomitabl
e will through his power at court he had the lover sent away to the mainland and for more than a year he held his daughter closely imprisoned in his palace on the toledo that one you may remember on the right just beyond the via del collegio de jesuiti with the beautiful ironwork grills at all the windows and the painted freeze but nothing could move her nothing bend her stubborn will and at last furious at the girl he could not govern castilloni sent her to this convent then one of the few hous
es of barefoot carmelite nuns in italy he stipulated that she should take the name of madeleine that he should never hear of her again and that she should be held an absolute prisoner in this conventual castle rosalia or sister madeleine as she was now believed her lover dead for her father had given her good proofs of this and she believed him nevertheless she refused to marry another and seized upon the convent life as a blessed relief from the tyranny of her maniacal father she lived here for
four or five years her name was forgotten at court and in her father's palace rosalia de castellioni was dead and only sister madeleine lived a carmelite nun in her place in 1798 ferdinand iv found himself driven from his throne on the mainland his kingdom divided and he himself forced to flee to sicily with him came the lover of the dead rosalia now high in military honor he on his part had thought rosalia dead and it was only by accident that he found that she still lived a carmelite nun then
began the second act of the romance that until then had been only sadly commonplace but now became dark and tragic michelle michelle biscari that was his name i remember now haunted the region of the convent striving to communicate with sister madeleine and at last from the cliffs over us up there among the citroens you will see by the next flash of lightning he saw her in the great cloister recognized her in her white habit found her the same dark and splendid beauty of six years before only m
ade more beautiful by her white habit and her rigid life by and by he found a day when she was alone and tossed a ring to her as she stood in the midst of the cloister she looked up saw him and from that moment lived only to love him in life as she had loved his memory and the death she thought had overtaken him with the utmost craft they arranged their plans together they could not speak for a word would have aroused the other inmates of the convent they could make signs only when sister madele
ine was alone michelle could throw notes to her from the cliff a feat demanding a strong arm as you will see if you measure the distance with your eye and she could drop replies from the window over the cliff which he picked up at the bottom finally he succeeded in casting into the cloister a coil of light rope the girl fastened it to the bars of one of the windows and so great is the madness of love biscari actually climbed the rope from the valley to the window of the cell a distance of almost
200 feet with but three craggy resting places in all that height for nearly a month these nocturnal visits were undiscovered and michelle had almost completed his arrangements for carrying the girl from santa catarina and away to spain when unfortunately one of the sisters suspecting some mystery from the changed face of sister madeleine began investigating and at length discovered the rope neatly coiled up by the nun's window and hidden under some clinging vines she instantly told the mother s
uperior and together they watched from a window in the crypt of the chapel the only place as you will see tomorrow from which one could see the window of sister madeleine's cell they saw the figure of michelle daringly ascending the slim rope watched hour after hour the sister remaining while the superior went to say the hours in the chapel at each of which sister madeleine was present and at last at prime just as the sun was rising they saw the figure slip down the rope watched the rope drawn u
p and concealed and knew that sister madeleine was in their hands for vengeance and punishment a criminal the next day by the order of the mother superior sister madeleine was imprisoned in one of the cells under the chapel charged with her guilt and commanded to make full and complete confession but not a word would she say although they offered her forgiveness if she would tell the name of her lover at last the superior told her that after this fashion they would act the coming night she herse
lf would be placed in the crypt tied in front of the window her mouth gagged that the rope would be lowered and the lover allowed to approach even to the sill of her window and at that moment the rope would be cut and before her eyes her lover would be dashed to death on the ragged cliffs the plan was feasible and sister madeleine knew that the mother was perfectly capable of carrying it out her stubborn spirit was broken and in the only way possible she begged for mercy for the sparing of her l
over the mother superior was deaf at first at last she said it is your life or his i will spare him on condition that you sacrifice your own life sister madalena accepted the terms joyfully wrote a last farewell to michelle fastened to the note to the rope and with her own hands cut the rope and saw it fall coiling down to the valley bed far below then she silently prepared for death and at midnight while her lover was wandering mad with the horror of impotent fear around the white walls of the
convent sister madeleine for love of michelle gave up her life howe was never known that she was indeed dead was only a suspicion for when discari finally compelled the civil authorities to enter the convent claiming that murder had been done there they found no sign sister madeleine had been sent to the parent house of the barefoot carmelites at avila in spain so the superior stated because of her incorrigible contimacy the old duke of castilloni refused to stir hand or foot in the matter and m
ichelle after fruitless attempts to prove that the superior of santa catarina had caused the death was forced to leave sicily he sought in spain for very long but no sign of the girl was to be found and at last he died exhausted with suffering and sorrow even the name of sister madeleine was forgotten and it was not until the convents were suppressed and this house came into the hands of the luxaros that her story was remembered it was then that the ghost began to appear and an explanation being
necessary the story or legend was obtained from one of the nuns who still lived after the suppression i think the fact for it is a fact of the ghost rather goes to prove that michelle was right and that poor rosalia gave her life a sacrifice for love whether in accordance with the terms of the legend or not i cannot say one or the other of you will probably see her tonight you might ask her for the facts well that is all the story of sister madeleine known in the world as rosalia de castellioni
do you like it it is admirable said rendell enthusiastically but i fancy i should rather look on it simply as a story and not as a warning of what is going to happen i don't much fancy real ghosts myself but the poor sister is quite harmless and valganera rose stretching himself my servants say she wants a mass set over or something of that kind but i haven't much love for such priestly hocus pocus i beg your pardon turning to me i had forgotten that you were a catholic forgive my rudeness my d
ear cavalieri i beg you not to apologize i am sorry you cannot see things as i do but don't for a moment think that i am hypersensitive i have an excuse perhaps you will say only an explanation but i live where i see all the absurdities and corruptions of the church perhaps you let the accidents blind you to the essentials but do not let us quarrel tonight see the storm is close on us shall we go in the stars were blotted out through nearly all the sky low thunderous clouds massed at the head of
the valley were sweeping over so close that they seemed to brush the black pines on the mountain above us to the south and east the storm clouds had shut down almost to the sea leaving a space of black sky where the moon in its last quarter was rising just to the left of monte pellegrino a black silhouette against the pallid moonlight the rosy lightning flashed almost incessantly and through the fitful darkness came the sound of bells across the valley the rushing torrent below and the dull roa
r of the approaching rain with a deep organ point of solemn thunder through it all we fled indoors from the coming tempest and taking our candles said good night and sought each his respective room my own was in the southern part of the old convent giving on the terrace we had just quitted and about over the main doorway the rushing storm as it swept down the valley with the swelling torrent beneath was very fascinating and after wrapping myself in a dressing gown i stood for some time by the de
eply embrasured window watching the blazing lightning and the beating rain whirled by fitful gusts of wind around the spurs of the mountains gradually the violence of the shower seemed to decrease and i threw myself down on my bed in the hot air wondering if i really was to experience the ghostly visit the cavalieri so confidently predicted i had thought out the whole matter to my own satisfaction and fancied i knew exactly what i should do in case sister madeleine came to visit me the story tou
ched me the thought of the poor faithful girl who sacrificed herself for her lover himself very likely quite unworthy and who now could never sleep for reason of her unquiet soul sent out into the storm of eternity without spiritual aid or counsel i could not sleep for the still vivid lightning the crowding thoughts of the dead none and the shivering anticipation of my possible visitation made slumber quite out of the question no suspicion of sleepiness had visited me when perhaps an hour after
midnight came a sudden vivid flash of lightning and as my dazzled eyes began to regain the power of sight i saw her plainly as in life a tall figure shrouded in the white habit of the carmelites her head bent her hands clasped before her in another flash of lightning she slowly raised her head and looked at me long and earnestly she was very beautiful like the virgin of beltraffio in the national gallery more beautiful than i had supposed possible her deep passionate eyes very tender and pitiful
in their pleading beseeching glance i hardly think i was frightened or even startled but lay looking steadily at her as she stood in the beating lightning then she breathed rather than articulated with a voice that almost brought tears so infinitely sad and sorrowful was it i cannot sleep and the liquid eyes grew more pitiful and questioning as bright tears fell from them down the pale dark face the figure began to move slowly towards the door its eyes fixed on mine with a look that was weary a
nd almost agonized i leaped from the bed and stood waiting a look of utter gratitude swept over the face and turning the figure past through the doorway out into the shadow of the corridor it moved like a drift of pallid storm cloud and i followed all natural and instinctive fear or nervousness quite blotted out by the part i felt i was to play in giving rest to a tortured soul the corridors were velvet black but the pale figure floated before me always an unerring guide now but a thin mist on t
he other night now white and clear in the bluish lightning through some window or doorway down the stairway into the lower hall across the refectory where the great frescoed crucifixion flared into sudden clearness under the fitful lightning out into the silent cloister it was very dark i stumbled along the heaving bricks now guiding myself by a hand on the whitewashed wall now by a touch on a column wet with the storm from all the eaves the rain was dripping onto the pebbles at the foot of the
arcade a pigeon startled from the capital where it was sleeping beat its way into the cloister close still the white thing drifted before me to the farther side of the court then along the cloister at right angles and paused before one of the many doorways that led to the cells a sudden blaze of fierce lightning the last now of the fleeting trail of storm leaped around us and in the vivid light i saw the white face turned again with the look of overwhelming desire of beseeching pathos that had c
hoked my throat with an involuntary sob when i first saw sister madeleine in the brief interval that ensued after the flash and before the roaring thunder burst like the crash of battle over the trembling convent i heard again the sorrowful words i cannot sleep come from the impenetrable darkness and when the lightning came again the white figure was gone i wandered around the courtyard searching in vain for sister madeleine even until the moonlight broke through the torn and sweeping fringes of
the storm i tried the door where the white figure vanished it was locked but i had found what i sought and carefully noting its location went back to my room but not to sleep in the morning the cavalieri asked rendell and me which of us had seen the ghost and i told him my story then i asked him to grant me permission to sift the thing to the bottom and he courteously gave the whole matter into my charge promising that he would consent to anything i could hardly wait to finish breakfast but no
sooner was this done than for getting my morning pipe i started with rendell and the cavalieri to investigate i am sure there is nothing in that cell said valgenera when we came in front of the door i had marked it is curious that you should have chosen the door of the very cell that tradition assigns to sister madeleine but i have often examined that room myself and i am sure there is no chance for anything to be concealed in fact i had the floor taken up once soon after i came here knowing the
room was that of the mysterious sister and thinking that there if anywhere the monastic crime would have taken place still we will go in if you like he unlocked the door and we entered one of us at all events with a beating heart the cell was very small hardly eight feet square there certainly seemed no opportunity for concealing a body in the tiny place and although i sounded the floor and walls all gave a solid heavy answer the unmistakable sound of masonry for the innocence of the floor the
cavalieri answered he had he said had it all removed even to the curving surfaces of the vault below yet somewhere in this room the body of the murdered girl was concealed of this i was certain but where there seemed no answer and i was compelled to give up the search for the moment somewhat to the amusement of valgan era who had watched curiously to see if i could solve the mystery but i could not forget the subject and towards noon started on another tour of investigation i procured the keys f
rom the cavalieri and examined the cells adjoining they were apparently the same each with its window opposite the door and nothing stay were they the same i hastened into the suspected cell it was as i thought this cell being on the corner could have had two windows yet only one was visible and that to the left at right angles with the doorway was it imagination as i sounded the wall opposite the door where the other window should be i fancied that the sound was a trifle less solid and dull i w
as becoming excited i dashed back to the cell on the right and forcing open the little window thrust my head out it was found at last in the smooth surface of the yellow wall was a rough space following approximately the shape of the other cell windows not plastered like the rest of the wall but showing the shapes of bricks through its thick coatings of whitewash i turned with a gasp of excitement and satisfaction yes the embrasure of the wall was deep enough what a wall it was four feet at leas
t and the opening of the window reached to the floor though the window itself was hardly three feet square i felt absolutely certain that the secret was solved and called the cavalieri and randall too excited to give them an explanation of my theories they must have thought me mad when i suddenly began scraping away at the solid wall in front of the door but in a few minutes they understood what i was about for under the coatings of paint and plaster appeared to the original bricks and as my arc
hitectural knowledge had led me rightly the space i had cleared was directly over a vertical joint between firm workmen like masonry on one hand and rough amateurish work on the other bricks laid anyway and without order or science rendal seized a pick and was about to assail the rude wall when i stopped him let us be careful i said who knows what we may find so we set to work digging out the mortar around a brick at about the level of our eyes how hard the mortar had become but a brick yielded
at last and with trembling fingers i detached it darkness within yet beyond question there was a cavity there not a solid wall and with infinite care we removed another brick still the hole was too small to emit enough light from the dimly illuminated cell with a chisel we pried at the sides of a large block of masonry perhaps eight bricks in size it moved and we softly slid it from its bed valgnera who is standing watching us as we lowered the bricks to the floor gave a sudden cry a cry like th
at of a frightened woman terrible coming from him yet there was cause framed by the ragged opening of the bricks hardly seen in the dim light was a face an ivory image more beautiful than any antique bust but drawn and distorted by unspeakable agony the lovely mouth half opened as though gasping for breath the eyes cast upward and below slim chiseled hands crossed on the breast but clutching the folds of the white carmelite habit torture and agony visible in every tense muscle fighting against t
he determination of the rigid pose we stood there breathless staring at the pitiful sight fascinated bewitched so this was the secret with fiendish ingenuity the rigid ecclesiastics had blocked up the window then forced the beautiful creature to stand in the alcove well with remorseless hands and iron hearts they had shut her into a living tomb i had read of such things in romance but to find the verity here before my eyes steps came down the cloister and with a simultaneous thought we sprang to
the door and closed it behind us the room was sacred that awful sight was not for curious eyes the gardener was coming to ask some trivial question of valgnera the cavalieri cut him short pietro go down to parco and ask padre stefano to come here at once i thanked him with a glance stay he turned to me senora it is already two o'clock and too late for mass is it not i nodded valgnera thought a moment then he said bring two horses the senor americano will go with you do you understand then turni
ng to me you will go will you not i think you can explain matters to padre stefano better than i of course i will go more than gladly so it happened that after a hasty luncheon i wound down the mountain to parco found padre stefano explained my errand to him found him intensely eager and sympathetic and by five o'clock had him back at the convent with all that was necessary for the resting of the soul of the dead girl in the warm twilight with the last light of the sunset pouring into the little
cell through the window where almost a century ago rosalia had for the last time said farewell to her lover we gathered together to speed her tortured soul on its journey so long delayed nothing was omitted all of the needful offices of the church were said by padre stefano while the light in the window died away and the flickering flames of the candles carried by two of the acolytes from san francisco through fitful flashes of pallid light into the dark recess where the white face had prayed t
o heaven for a hundred years finally the padre took the asperge from the hands of one of the acolytes and with the sign of the cross and benediction while he chanted the asperges gently sprinkled the holy water on the upturned face instantly the whole vision crumbled to dust the face was gone and where once the candle light had flickered on the perfect semblance of the girl dead so very long it now fell only on the rough bricks which closed the window bricks laid with frozen hearts by pitiless h
ands but our task was not done yet it had been arranged that padre stefano should remain at the convent all night and that as soon as midnight made it possible he should say the first mass for the repose of the girl's soul we sat on the terrace talking over the strange events of the last crowded hours and i noted with satisfaction that the cavalieri no longer spoke of the church with that hardness which had hurt me so often it is true that the padre was with us nearly all the time but not only w
as valgnera courteous he was almost sympathetic and i wondered if it might not prove that more than one soul benefited by the untoward events of that day with the aid of the astonished and delighted servants and no little help as well from senora valganera i fitted up the long cold altar in the chapel and by midnight we had the gloomy sanctuary beautiful with flowers and candles it was a curiously solemn service in the first hour of the new day in the midst of blazing candles and the thick incen
se the odor of the opening orange blooms drifting up in the fresh morning air and mingling with the incense smoke and the perfume of the flowers within many prayers were said that night for the soul of the dead girl and i think many afterwards for after the benediction i remained for a little time in my place and when i rose from my knees and went towards the chapel door i saw a figure kneeling still and with a start recognized the form of the cavalieri i smiled with quiet satisfaction and grati
tude and went away softly content with the chain of events that now seemed finished the next day the alcove was again walled up for the precious dust could not be gathered together for transportation to consecrated ground so i went down to the little cemetery at parko for a basket of earth which we cast in over the ashes of sister madeleine by and by when rendell and i went away with great regret valgnero came down to palermo with us and the last act that we performed in sicily was assisting him
to order a tablet of marble where on was carved to this simple inscription here lies the body of rosalia de castellioni called sister madeleine her soul is with him who gave it to this i added in thought let him that is without sin among you cast the first stone end of sister madalena [Music] you
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