at were the windows of the palace to
her? So she walked on again till she reached a spot on the bridge at
which she almost always paused a moment to perform a little act of
devotion. There, having a place in the long row of huge statues which
adorn the bridge, is the figure of the martyr St John Nepomucene, who
at this spot was thrown into the river because he would not betray the
secrets of a queen's confession, and was drowned, and who has ever
been, from that period downwards, the favourite saint of Prague--and
of bridges. On the balustrade, near the figure, there is a small plate
inserted in the stone-work and good Catholics, as they pass over the
river, put their hands upon the plate, and then kiss their fingers. So
shall they be saved from drowning and from all perils of the water--as
far, at least, as that special transit of the river may be perilous.
Nina, as a child, had always touched the stone, and then touched her
lips, and did the act without much thought as to the saving power of St
John Nepomucene. But now, as she carried her hand up to her face, she
did think of the deed. Had she, who was about to marry a Jew, any right
to ask for the assistance of a Christian saint? And would such a deed
that she now proposed to herself put her beyond the pale of Christian
aid? Would the Madonna herself desert her should she marry a Jew? If
she were to become truer than ever to her faith--more diligent, more
thoughtful, more constant in all acts of devotion--would the blessed
Mary help to save her, even though she should commit this great sin?
Would the mild-eyed, sweet Saviour, who had forgiven so many women, who
had saved from a cruel death the woman taken in adultery, who had been
so gracious to the Samaritan woman at the well--would He turn from her
the graciousness of His dear eyes, and bid her go out for ever from
among the faithful? Madame Zamenoy would tell her so, and so would
Sister Teresa, an old nun, who was on most friendly terms with Madame
Zamenoy, and whom Nina altogether hated; and so would the priest, to
whom, alas! she would be bound to give faith. And if this were so,
whither should she turn for comfort? She could not become a Jewess! She
might call herself one; but how could she be a Jewess with her strong
faith in St Nicholas, who was the saint of her own Church, and in St
John of the River, and in the Madonna? No; she must be an outcast from
all religions, a Pariah, one devoted absolutely to the eve