"There, you see," the mother superior was saying, "your fear is entirely
childish; there is no one in the church. All Seville is trooping to the
cathedral to-night. Play the organ, and do it without any distrust
whatever. We are only a sisterhood here. But why don't you speak? What has
happened? What is the matter with you?"

"I am afraid," replied the girl, in a tone of the deepest agitation.

"Afraid! Of what?"

"I do not know--something supernatural. Listen to what happened last
night. I had heard you say that you were anxious for me to play the organ
for the mass. I was proud of the honor, and I thought I would arrange the
stops and get the organ in good tune so as to give you a surprise to-day.
Alone I went into the choir and opened the door leading to the organ-loft.
The cathedral clock was striking just then, I do not know what hour; but
the strokes of the bell were very mournful, and they were very numerous--
going on sounding for a century, as it seemed to me, while I stood as if
nailed to the threshold.

"The church was empty and dark. Far away there gleamed a feeble light,
like a faint star in the sky; it was the lamp burning on the high altar.
By its flickering light, which only helped to make the deep horror of the
shadows the more intense, I saw--I saw--mother, do not disbelieve it--a
man. In perfect silence, and with his back turned towards me, he was
running over the organ-keys with one hand while managing the stops with
the other. And the organ sounded, but in an indescribable manner. It
seemed as if each note were a sob smothered in the metal tube, which
vibrated under the pressure of the air compressed within it, and gave
forth a low, almost imperceptible tone, yet exact and true.