Werewolf Stories. Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг

thongs of their scourges; and a faintness came over Flora Francatelli when she observed the blood appear on the back of the young and beautiful penitent who had given the signal for this self-mortification.

      The nun, perceiving the effect thus produced upon the maiden, touched her upon the shoulder as a signal to follow whither she was about to lead; and, opening one of the several doors communicating with the Chamber of Penitence, she said in a low whisper—“This is your cell. May the Virgin bless you!”

      Flora entered the little room allotted to her, and the nun retired, simply closing, but not bolting the door behind her.

      A taper burnt before a crucifix suspended to the wall; and near it hung a scourge, from which last mentioned object Flora averted her eyes with horror.

      A bed, a simple toilet-table, a praying-desk, and a single chair, completed the furniture of the cell, which was of very narrow dimensions.

      Seating herself on the bed, Flora burst into an agony of tears.

      What would her aunt think when she received the news of her disappearance? for she could not suppose that any friendly feeling on the part of her persecutors would induce them to adopt a course which might relieve that much-loved relative’s mind concerning her. What would Francisco conjecture? Oh! these thoughts were maddening!

      Anxious to escape from them, if possible, the almost heartbroken girl proceeded to lay aside her garments and retire to rest.

      Physical and mental exhaustion cast her into a deep sleep; but the horrors of her condition pursued her even in her dreams; so that when she awoke she was not startled to find herself in that gloomy cell.

      Casting her eyes around, she observed two circumstances which showed her that some one had visited her room during the hours she slept; for a new taper was burning before the crucifix, and her own garments had been removed,—the coarse garb of a penitent now occupying their place on the chair.

      “Oh! is it possible that I am doomed to bid farewell to the world forever?” exclaimed Flora, in a voice of despair, as she clasped her hands convulsively together.