melites. Then the final black
veil was thrown over her head. She came forth with her sponsors--two
cardinal-archbishops in the splendid array of their rank as princes of
the Church. The chant from the choir rose high and clear. Behind the
black bars the cloistered nuns, their veils about their faces, clustered
closer. The wedding-party had drawn back, John d'Albret standing in the
midst, with Claire on his arm, clinging close and sobbing--for the debt
which another had paid. The procession of priests passed slowly back
down the aisle. Valentine was left kneeling before the altar with only
her sponsors on either side.

"_Sister Maria of the Renunciation!_"

The Archbishop of Toledo proclaimed the new name of this latest bride of
Holy Church. Claire whispered, "What is it? Oh, what does it mean? I do
not understand!"

For the Protestant and foreigner can never understand the awfulness of
that sacrifice. Even now it did not seem real to Claire. Surely, oh,
surely she was walking in a vain show. Soon she must awake from this
dream and find Valentine by her side, as she had been for weeks past.

But, in the midst of the solemn chant, the black gratings of iron
opened. The nuns could be seen kneeling on either side, their heads
bowed almost to the ground. Only the abbess came forward, a tall old
woman, groping and tottering, her bony hand scarce able to find its way
through the dense folds of her veil.

She stretched out her hand, feeling this way and that, like a creature
of the dark blinded by the light. The two cardinals delivered the new
sister of the Order into her charge. This was done silently. The sound
of Claire's sobs could be heard distinctly.

But ere the tall iron gratings shut together, ere the interrupted chant
lifted itself leisurely out of the silence, ere the groping hands of the
old blind abbess could grasp hers, Valentine la Nina had turned once
more to look her last on the world she was leaving.

Her eyes searched for and met those of John d'Albret. And if soul ever
spoke to soul these were the words they said to him, "This I have done
for you!"

The huge barred doors creaked and rasped their way back, shutting with a
clank of jarring iron, not to be again opened till another sister
entered that living tomb.

Dimly the files of phantom Carmelites could be seen receding farther and
farther towards the high altar. The chant sank to a whisper. Valentine
la Nina was no more for this world.

With