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diff --git a/43076.txt b/43076.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d334641..0000000 --- a/43076.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13156 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Agnes of Sorrento, by Harriet Beecher Stowe - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Agnes of Sorrento - -Author: Harriet Beecher Stowe - -Release Date: July 1, 2013 [EBook #43076] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AGNES OF SORRENTO *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - Riverside Edition - - THE WRITINGS OF - HARRIET BEECHER STOWE - - _WITH BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTIONS, - PORTRAITS, AND OTHER - ILLUSTRATIONS_ - - IN SIXTEEN VOLUMES - VOLUME VII - - -[Illustration] - - - - - The Writings of - Harriet Beecher Stowe - - Riverside Edition - - [Illustration] - - HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. - - - - - AGNES OF SORRENTO - - BY - HARRIET BEECHER STOWE - - [Illustration] - - BOSTON AND NEW YORK - HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY - The Riverside Press, Cambridge - 1899 - - - - - Copyright, 1862 and 1890, - BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. - - Copyright, 1896, - BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. - - _All rights reserved._ - - _The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._ - Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - - INTRODUCTORY NOTE vii - - I. THE OLD TOWN 1 - - II. THE DOVE-COT 8 - - III. THE GORGE 14 - - IV. WHO AND WHAT 19 - - V. IL PADRE FRANCESCO 29 - - VI. THE WALK TO THE CONVENT 42 - - VII. THE DAY AT THE CONVENT 57 - - VIII. THE CAVALIER 75 - - IX. THE ARTIST MONK 82 - - X. THE INTERVIEW 107 - - XI. THE CONFESSIONAL 125 - - XII. PERPLEXITIES 133 - - XIII. THE MONK AND THE CAVALIER 152 - - XIV. THE MONK'S STRUGGLE 165 - - XV. THE SERPENT'S EXPERIMENT 189 - - XVI. ELSIE PUSHES HER SCHEME 194 - - XVII. THE MONK'S DEPARTURE 213 - - XVIII. THE PENANCE 226 - - XIX. CLOUDS DEEPENING 238 - - XX. FLORENCE AND HER PROPHET 255 - - XXI. THE ATTACK ON SAN MARCO 264 - - XXII. THE CATHEDRAL 273 - - XXIII. THE PILGRIMAGE 290 - - XXIV. THE MOUNTAIN FORTRESS 301 - - XXV. THE CRISIS 313 - - XXVI. ROME 328 - - XXVII. THE SAINT'S REST 337 - - XXVIII. PALM SUNDAY 347 - - XXIX. THE NIGHT-RIDE 355 - - XXX. "LET US ALSO GO, THAT WE MAY DIE WITH HIM" 366 - - XXXI. MARTYRDOM 372 - - XXXII. CONCLUSION 375 - -The frontispiece ("The Cavalier stood in the moonlight before Agnes," -page 92) and the vignette were drawn by Malcolm Fraser. - - - - -INTRODUCTORY NOTE - - -In the summer of 1859, Mrs. Stowe made her third and last journey -to Europe. During the summer, the whole family was abroad, save the -youngest; but in the autumn Mr. Stowe and one of the daughters returned -to America, leaving Mrs. Stowe with two daughters and a son to spend -the winter in Italy. The residence there was mainly to establish the -health of the family; but Mrs. Stowe had entered into engagements -with the New York _Ledger_ and the New York _Independent_ to furnish -contributions, with a design ultimately of collecting the papers and -recasting them for a volume to be published in the spring of 1860 in -America and England, under the title of _Leaves from Foreign Books for -Home Reading_. She had indeed entered into an agreement with Sampson -Low & Co., the London publishers of _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ and _Dred_, for -the publication of the volume, but a sudden change of plans brought her -home before she had perfected her book, and it was never published. - -Meanwhile her dramatic instinct had begun to work upon the material -thus gathered. It was impossible for her, with her strong religious -nature and her active interest in structural Christianity to avoid -subjecting the great church so constantly in evidence to those tests of -personal religion which had been familiar to her from childhood. Her -stay in Florence brought vividly before her the figure of Savonarola, -and her imagination, in seeking to recover the life of his day, -instinctively invested it with the spiritual struggles so well known -to her and her circle. There was no conscious protestantizing of the -life, as one may say, but the story which she told naturally reflected -the color of her own religious training. _Agnes of Sorrento_ was begun -in this Italian winter, and had its immediate origin, as she herself -explains in the following note, in a friendly contest of story telling. -It was not completed until some time after the return to America, -finding its first publication in _The Atlantic Monthly_ in America and -_The Cornhill Magazine_ in England. In _The Atlantic_ it was begun in -May, 1861, and finished in April, 1862. - -In the party with Mrs. Stowe were Mr. and Mrs. Howard of Brooklyn, and -their children. When the tale made its final appearance in book form, -it was accompanied by the following passages from a letter to the -publishers by Mrs. Stowe. The "Annie" referred to was Miss Annie Howard. - - "The author was spending some weeks with a party of choice - and very dear friends, on an excursion to southern Italy. - Nothing could have been more fabulously and dreamily bright and - beautiful than the whole time thus employed. Naples, Sorrento, - Salerno, Paestum, Pompeii, are names of enchantment which will - never fade from the remembrance of any of that party. At - Salerno, within a day's ride of Paestum, the whole company were - detained by a storm for a day and a night. The talents of the - whole company were called in requisition to make the gloomy - evening pass pleasantly with song and jest and story. The first - chapters of this story were there written and read, to the - accompanying dash of the Mediterranean. The plan of the whole - future history was then sketched out. Whether it ever find much - favor in the eyes of the world or not, sure it is, the story - was a child of love in its infancy, and its flowery Italian - cradle rocked it with an indulgent welcome. - - "The writer and the party were fresh from strolls and rambles - about charming Sorrento; they had explored the gloomy gorge, - and carried away golden boughs of fruits and blossoms from her - orange orchards. Under the shadow of the old arched gateway - they had seen, sitting at her orange stand, a beautiful young - girl, whose name became Agnes in the story; and in the shadows - of the gorge they met that woman straight and tall, with silver - hair, Roman nose, and dark eyes, whose name became Elsie. The - whole golden scene receded centuries back, and they saw them in - a vision as they might and must have been in other days. - - "The author begs to say that this story is a mere dreamland, - that it neither assumes nor will have responsibility for - historical accuracy. It merely reproduces to the reader the - visionary region that appeared to the writer; and if some - critic says this date be wrong, or that incident out of place, - let us answer, 'Who criticises perspective and distances, that - looks down into a purple lake at eventide? All dates shall give - way to the fortunes of our story, and our lovers shall have the - benefit of fairy-land; and whoso wants history will not find it - here, except to our making, and as it suits our purpose.' - - "The story is dedicated to the dear friends, wherever - scattered, who first listened to it at Salerno. Alas! in - writing this, a sorrow falls upon us,--the brightest, in youth - and beauty, and in promise of happy life, who listened to that - beginning, has passed to the land of silence. - - "When our merry company left Sorrento, all the younger members - adorned themselves with profuse knots of roses, which grew - there so abundantly that it would seem no plucking could - exhaust them. A beautiful girl sat opposite the writer in the - carriage and said, 'Now I will count my roses; I have just - seven knots, and in each seven roses.' And in reply, another - remarked, 'Seven is the perfect number, and seven times seven - is perfection.' 'It is no emblem,' she said gayly, 'of what a - perfect time of enjoyment we have had.' One month later, and - this rose had faded and passed away. - - "There be many who will understand and tenderly feel the - meaning, when we say that this little history is dedicated to - the memory of ANNIE." - - - - -AGNES OF SORRENTO - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE OLD TOWN - - -The setting sunbeams slant over the antique gateway of Sorrento, -fusing into a golden bronze the brown freestone vestments of old Saint -Antonio, who with his heavy stone mitre and upraised hands has for -centuries kept watch thereupon. - -A quiet time he has of it up there in the golden Italian air, in -petrified act of blessing, while orange lichens and green mosses from -year to year embroider quaint patterns on the seams of his sacerdotal -vestments, and small tassels of grass volunteer to ornament the folds -of his priestly drapery, and golden showers of blossoms from some -more hardy plant fall from his ample sleeve-cuffs. Little birds perch -and chitter and wipe their beaks unconcernedly, now on the tip of his -nose and now on the point of his mitre, while the world below goes on -its way pretty much as it did when the good saint was alive, and, in -despair of the human brotherhood, took to preaching to the birds and -the fishes. - -Whoever passed beneath this old arched gateway, thus saint-guarded, in -the year of our Lord's grace ----, might have seen under its shadow, -sitting opposite to a stand of golden oranges, the little Agnes. - -A very pretty picture was she, reader,--with such a face as you -sometimes see painted in those wayside shrines of sunny Italy, where -the lamp burns pale at evening, and gillyflower and cyclamen are -renewed with every morning. - -She might have been fifteen or thereabouts, but was so small of stature -that she seemed yet a child. Her black hair was parted in a white -unbroken seam down to the high forehead, whose serious arch, like that -of a cathedral door, spoke of thought and prayer. Beneath the shadows -of this brow lay brown, translucent eyes, into whose thoughtful depths -one might look as pilgrims gaze into the waters of some saintly well, -cool and pure down to the unblemished sand at the bottom. The small -lips had a gentle compression, which indicated a repressed strength -of feeling; while the straight line of the nose, and the flexible, -delicate nostril, were perfect as in those sculptured fragments of the -antique which the soil of Italy so often gives forth to the day from -the sepulchres of the past. The habitual pose of the head and face -had the shy uplooking grace of a violet; and yet there was a grave -tranquillity of expression, which gave a peculiar degree of character -to the whole figure. - -At the moment at which we have called your attention, the fair head is -bent, the long eyelashes lie softly down on the pale, smooth cheek; for -the Ave Maria bell is sounding from the Cathedral of Sorrento, and the -child is busy with her beads. - -By her side sits a woman of some threescore years, tall, stately, and -squarely formed, with ample breadth of back and size of chest, like the -robust dames of Sorrento. Her strong Roman nose, the firm, determined -outline of her mouth, and a certain energy in every motion, speak the -woman of will and purpose. There is a degree of vigor in the decision -with which she lays down her spindle and bows her head, as a good -Christian of those days would, at the swinging of the evening bell. - -But while the soul of the child in its morning freshness, free from -pressure or conscience of earthly care, rose like an illuminated mist -to heaven, the words the white-haired woman repeated were twined with -threads of worldly prudence,--thoughts of how many oranges she had -sold, with a rough guess at the probable amount for the day,--and -her fingers wandered from her beads a moment to see if the last coin -had been swept from the stand into her capacious pocket, and her -eyes wandering after them suddenly made her aware of the fact that -a handsome cavalier was standing in the gate, regarding her pretty -grandchild with looks of undisguised admiration. - -"Let him look!" she said to herself, with a grim clasp on her rosary; -"a fair face draws buyers, and our oranges must be turned into money; -but he who does more than look has an affair with me; so gaze away, my -master, and take it out in buying oranges!--_Ave Maria! ora pro nobis, -nunc et_," etc., etc. - -A few moments, and the wave of prayer which had flowed down the quaint -old shadowy street, bowing all heads as the wind bowed the scarlet -tassels of neighboring clover-fields, was passed, and all the world -resumed the work of earth just where they left off when the bell began. - -"Good even to you, pretty maiden!" said the cavalier, approaching the -stall of the orange-woman with the easy, confident air of one secure -of a ready welcome, and bending down on the yet prayerful maiden the -glances of a pair of piercing hazel eyes that looked out on each side -of his aquiline nose with the keenness of a falcon's. - -"Good even to you, pretty one! We shall take you for a saint, and -worship you in right earnest, if you raise not those eyelashes soon." - -"Sir! my lord!" said the girl,--a bright color flushing into her smooth -brown cheeks, and her large dreamy eyes suddenly upraised with a -flutter, as of a bird about to take flight. - -"Agnes, bethink yourself!" said the white-haired dame; "the gentleman -asks the price of your oranges; be alive, child!" - -"Ah, my lord," said the young girl, "here are a dozen fine ones." - -"Well, you shall give them me, pretty one," said the young man, -throwing a gold piece down on the stand with a careless ring. - -"Here, Agnes, run to the stall of Raphael the poulterer for change," -said the adroit dame, picking up the gold. - -"Nay, good mother, by your leave," said the unabashed cavalier; "I make -my change with youth and beauty thus!" And with the word he stooped -down and kissed the fair forehead between the eyes. - -"For shame, sir!" said the elderly woman, raising her distaff,--her -great glittering eyes flashing beneath her silver hair like tongues of -lightning from a white cloud. "Have a care!--this child is named for -blessed Saint Agnes, and is under her protection." - -"The saints must pray for us, when their beauty makes us forget -ourselves," said the young cavalier, with a smile. "Look me in the -face, little one," he added; "say, wilt thou pray for me?" - -The maiden raised her large serious eyes, and surveyed the haughty, -handsome face with that look of sober inquiry which one sometimes sees -in young children, and the blush slowly faded from her cheek, as a -cloud fades after sunset. - -"Yes, my lord," she answered, with a grave simplicity, "I will pray for -you." - -"And hang this upon the shrine of Saint Agnes for my sake," he added, -drawing from his finger a diamond ring, which he dropped into her -hand; and before mother or daughter could add another word or recover -from their surprise, he had thrown the corner of his mantle over his -shoulder and was off down the narrow street, humming the refrain of a -gay song. - -"You have struck a pretty dove with that bolt," said another cavalier, -who appeared to have been observing the proceeding, and now, stepping -forward, joined him. - -"Like enough," said the first, carelessly. - -"The old woman keeps her mewed up like a singing-bird," said the -second; "and if a fellow wants speech of her, it's as much as his crown -is worth; for Dame Elsie has a strong arm, and her distaff is known to -be heavy." - -"Upon my word," said the first cavalier, stopping and throwing a glance -backward, "where do they keep her?" - -"Oh, in a sort of pigeon's nest up above the Gorge; but one never sees -her, except under the fire of her grandmother's eyes. The little one -is brought up for a saint, they say, and goes nowhere but to mass, -confession, and the sacrament." - -"Humph!" said the other, "she looks like some choice old picture of Our -Lady,--not a drop of human blood in her. When I kissed her forehead, -she looked into my face as grave and innocent as a babe. One is tempted -to try what one can do in such a case." - -"Beware the grandmother's distaff!" said the other, laughing. - -"I've seen old women before," said the cavalier, as they turned down -the street and were lost to view. - -Meanwhile the grandmother and grand-daughter were roused from the -mute astonishment in which they were gazing after the young cavalier -by a tittering behind them; and a pair of bright eyes looked out upon -them from beneath a bundle of long, crimson-headed clover, whose rich -carmine tints were touched to brighter life by setting sunbeams. - -There stood Giulietta, the head coquette of the Sorrento girls, with -her broad shoulders, full chest, and great black eyes, rich and -heavy as those of the silver-haired ox for whose benefit she had been -cutting clover. Her bronzed cheek was smooth as that of any statue, -and showed a color like that of an open pomegranate; and the opulent, -lazy abundance of her ample form, with her leisurely movements, spoke -an easy and comfortable nature,--that is to say, when Giulietta was -pleased; for it is to be remarked that there lurked certain sparkles -deep down in her great eyes, which might, on occasion, blaze out into -sheet-lightning, like her own beautiful skies, which, lovely as they -are, can thunder and sulk with terrible earnestness when the fit takes -them. At present, however, her face was running over with mischievous -merriment, as she slyly pinched little Agnes by the ear. - -"So you know not yon gay cavalier, little sister?" she said, looking -askance at her from under her long lashes. - -"No, indeed! What has an honest girl to do with knowing gay cavaliers?" -said Dame Elsie, bestirring herself with packing the remaining oranges -into a basket, which she covered trimly with a heavy linen towel of her -own weaving. "Girls never come to good who let their eyes go walking -through the earth, and have the names of all the wild gallants on -their tongues. Agnes knows no such nonsense,--blessed be her gracious -patroness, with Our Lady and Saint Michael!" - -"I hope there is no harm in knowing what is right before one's eyes," -said Giulietta. "Anybody must be blind and deaf not to know the Lord -Adrian. All the girls in Sorrento know him. They say he is even greater -than he appears,--that he is brother to the King himself; at any rate, -a handsomer and more gallant gentleman never wore spurs." - -"Let him keep to his own kind," said Elsie. "Eagles make bad work in -dove-cots. No good comes of such gallants for us." - -"Nor any harm, that I ever heard of," said Giulietta. "But let me see, -pretty one,--what did he give you? Holy Mother! what a handsome ring!" - -"It is to hang on the shrine of Saint Agnes," said the younger girl, -looking up with simplicity. - -A loud laugh was the first answer to this communication. The scarlet -clover-tops shook and quivered with the merriment. - -"To hang on the shrine of Saint Agnes!" Giulietta repeated. "That is a -little too good!" - -"Go, go, you baggage!" said Elsie, wrathfully brandishing her spindle. -"If ever you get a husband, I hope he'll give you a good beating! You -need it, I warrant! Always stopping on the bridge there, to have cracks -with the young men! Little enough you know of saints, I dare say! So -keep away from _my_ child! Come, Agnes," she said, as she lifted the -orange-basket on to her head; and, straightening her tall form, she -seized the girl by the hand to lead her away. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE DOVE-COT - - -The old town of Sorrento is situated on an elevated plateau, which -stretches into the sunny waters of the Mediterranean, guarded on all -sides by a barrier of mountains which defend it from bleak winds and -serve to it the purpose of walls to a garden. Here, groves of oranges -and lemons, with their almost fabulous coincidence of fruitage with -flowers, fill the air with perfume, which blends with that of roses and -jessamines; and the fields are so starred and enameled with flowers -that they might have served as the type for those Elysian realms sung -by ancient poets. The fervid air is fanned by continual sea-breezes, -which give a delightful elasticity to the otherwise languid climate. -Under all these cherishing influences, the human being develops a -wealth and luxuriance of physical beauty unknown in less favored -regions. In the region about Sorrento one may be said to have found the -land where beauty is the rule and not the exception. The singularity -there is not to see handsome points of physical proportion, but rather -to see those who are without them. Scarce a man, woman, or child you -meet who has not some personal advantage to be commended, while even -striking beauty is common. Also, under these kindly skies, a native -courtesy and gentleness of manner make themselves felt. It would seem -as if humanity, rocked in this flowery cradle, and soothed by so many -daily caresses and appliances of nursing Nature, grew up with all that -is kindliest on the outward,--not repressed and beat in, as under the -inclement atmosphere and stormy skies of the North. - -The town of Sorrento itself overhangs the sea, skirting along rocky -shores, which, hollowed here and there into picturesque grottoes, and -fledged with a wild plumage of brilliant flowers and trailing vines, -descend in steep precipices to the water. Along the shelly beach, at -the bottom, one can wander to look out on the loveliest prospect in the -world. Vesuvius rises with its two peaks softly clouded in blue and -purple mists, which blend with its ascending vapors,--Naples and the -adjoining villages at its base gleaming in the distance like a fringe -of pearls on a regal mantle. Nearer by, the picturesque rocky shores of -the island of Capri seem to pulsate through the dreamy, shifting mists -that veil its sides; and the sea shimmers and glitters like the neck -of a peacock with an iridescent mingling of colors: the whole air is a -glorifying medium, rich in prismatic hues of enchantment. - -The town on three sides is severed from the main land by a gorge two -hundred feet in depth and forty or fifty in breadth, crossed by a -bridge resting on double arches, the construction of which dates back -to the time of the ancient Romans. This bridge affords a favorite -lounging-place for the inhabitants, and at evening a motley assemblage -may be seen lolling over its moss-grown sides,--men with their -picturesque knit caps of scarlet or brown falling gracefully on one -shoulder, and women with their shining black hair and the enormous -pearl ear-rings which are the pride and heirlooms of every family. The -present traveler at Sorrento may remember standing on this bridge and -looking down the gloomy depths of the gorge, to where a fair villa, -with its groves of orange-trees and gardens, overhangs the tremendous -depths below. - -Hundreds of years since, where this villa now stands was the simple -dwelling of the two women whose history we have begun to tell you. -There you might have seen a small stone cottage with a two-arched -arcade in front, gleaming brilliantly white out of the dusky foliage -of an orange-orchard. The dwelling was wedged like a bird-box between -two fragments of rock, and behind it the land rose rocky, high, and -steep, so as to form a natural wall. A small ledge or terrace of -cultivated land here hung in air,--below it, a precipice of two hundred -feet down into the Gorge of Sorrento. A couple of dozen orange-trees, -straight and tall, with healthy, shining bark, here shot up from the -fine black volcanic soil, and made with their foliage a twilight shadow -on the ground, so deep that no vegetation, save a fine velvet moss, -could dispute their claim to its entire nutritious offices. These -trees were the sole wealth of the women and the sole ornament of the -garden; but, as they stood there, not only laden with golden fruit, -but fragrant with pearly blossoms, they made the little rocky platform -seem a perfect Garden of the Hesperides. The stone cottage, as we have -said, had an open, whitewashed arcade in front, from which one could -look down into the gloomy depths of the gorge, as into some mysterious -underworld. Strange and weird it seemed, with its fathomless shadows -and its wild grottoes, over which hung, silently waving, long pendants -of ivy, while dusky gray aloes uplifted their horned heads from great -rock-rifts, like elfin spirits struggling upward out of the shade. Nor -was wanting the usual gentle poetry of flowers; for white iris leaned -its fairy pavilion over the black void like a pale-cheeked princess -from the window of some dark enchanted castle, and scarlet geranium and -golden broom and crimson gladiolus waved and glowed in the shifting -beams of the sunlight. Also there was in this little spot what forms -the charm of Italian gardens always,--the sweet song and prattle of -waters. A clear mountain-spring burst through the rock on one side -of the little cottage, and fell with a lulling noise into a quaint -moss-grown water-trough, which had been in former times the sarcophagus -of some old Roman sepulchre. Its sides were richly sculptured with -figures and leafy scrolls and arabesques, into which the sly-footed -lichens with quiet growth had so insinuated themselves as in some -places almost to obliterate the original design; while, round the -place where the water fell, a veil of ferns and maiden's-hair, studded -with tremulous silver drops, vibrated to its soothing murmur. The -superfluous waters, drained off by a little channel on one side, were -conducted through the rocky parapet of the garden, whence they trickled -and tinkled from rock to rock, falling with a continual drip among the -swaying ferns and pendent ivy wreaths, till they reached the little -stream at the bottom of the gorge. This parapet or garden-wall was -formed of blocks or fragments of what had once been white marble, the -probable remains of the ancient tomb from which the sarcophagus was -taken. Here and there a marble acanthus-leaf, or the capital of an old -column, or a fragment of sculpture jutted from under the mosses, ferns, -and grasses with which prodigal Nature had filled every interstice and -carpeted the whole. These sculptured fragments everywhere in Italy seem -to whisper, from the dust, of past life and death, of a cycle of human -existence forever gone, over whose tomb the life of to-day is built. - -"Sit down and rest, my dove," said Dame Elsie to her little charge, as -they entered their little enclosure. - -Here she saw for the first time, what she had not noticed in the heat -and hurry of her ascent, that the girl was panting and her gentle bosom -rising and falling in thick heartbeats, occasioned by the haste with -which she had drawn her onward. - -"Sit down, dearie, and I will get you a bit of supper." - -"Yes, grandmother, I will. I must tell my beads once for the soul of -the handsome gentleman that kissed my forehead to-night." - -"How did you know that he was handsome, child?" said the old dame, with -some sharpness in her voice. - -"He bade me look on him, grandmother, and I saw it." - -"You must put such thoughts away, child," said the old dame. - -"Why must I?" said the girl, looking up with an eye as clear and -unconscious as that of a three-year-old child. - -"If she does not think, why should I tell her?" said Dame Elsie, as she -turned to go into the house, and left the child sitting on the mossy -parapet that overlooked the gorge. Thence she could see far off, not -only down the dim, sombre abyss, but out to the blue Mediterranean -beyond, now calmly lying in swathing-bands of purple, gold, and orange, -while the smoky cloud that overhung Vesuvius became silver and rose in -the evening light. - -There is always something of elevation and purity that seems to come -over one from being in an elevated region. One feels morally as well -as physically above the world, and from that clearer air able to look -down on it calmly with disengaged freedom. Our little maiden sat for -a few moments gazing, her large brown eyes dilating with a tremulous -lustre, as if tears were half of a mind to start in them, and her -lips apart with a delicate earnestness, like one who is pursuing some -pleasing inner thought. Suddenly rousing herself, she began by breaking -the freshest orange-blossoms from the golden-fruited trees, and, -kissing and pressing them to her bosom, she proceeded to remove the -faded flowers of the morning from before a little rude shrine in the -rock, where, in a sculptured niche, was a picture of the Madonna and -Child, with a locked glass door in front of it. The picture was a happy -transcript of one of the fairest creations of the religious school of -Florence, done by one of those rustic copyists of whom Italy is full, -who appear to possess the instinct of painting, and to whom we owe many -of those sweet faces which sometimes look down on us by the wayside -from rudest and homeliest shrines. - -The poor fellow by whom it had been painted was one to whom years -before Dame Elsie had given food and shelter for many months during a -lingering illness; and he had painted so much of his dying heart and -hopes into it that it had a peculiar and vital vividness in its power -of affecting the feelings. Agnes had been familiar with this picture -from early infancy. No day of her life had the flowers failed to be -freshly placed before it. It had seemed to smile down sympathy on her -childish joys, and to cloud over with her childish sorrows. It was -less a picture to her than a presence; and the whole air of the little -orange-garden seemed to be made sacred by it. When she had arranged her -flowers, she kneeled down and began to say prayers for the soul of the -young gallant. - -"Holy Jesus," she said, "he is young, rich, handsome, and a king's -brother; and for all these things the Fiend may tempt him to forget his -God and throw away his soul. Holy Mother, give him good counsel!" - -"Come, child, to your supper," said Dame Elsie. "I have milked the -goats, and everything is ready." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE GORGE - - -After her light supper was over, Agnes took her distaff, wound with -shining white flax, and went and seated herself in her favorite place, -on the low parapet that overlooked the gorge. - -This ravine, with its dizzy depths, its waving foliage, its dripping -springs and the low murmur of the little stream that pursued its way -far down at the bottom, was one of those things which stimulated -her impressible imagination, and filled her with a solemn and vague -delight. The ancient Italian tradition made it the home of fauns and -dryads, wild woodland creatures, intermediate links between vegetable -life and that of sentiment and reasoning humanity. The more earnest -faith that came in with Christianity, if it had its brighter lights -in an immortality of blessedness, had also its deeper shadows in the -intenser perceptions it awakened of sin and evil, and of the mortal -struggle by which the human spirit must avoid endless woe and rise to -endless felicity. The myths with which the colored Italian air was -filled in mediaeval ages no longer resembled those graceful, floating, -cloud-like figures one sees in the ancient chambers of Pompeii,--the -bubbles and rainbows of human fancy, rising aimless and buoyant, -with a mere freshness of animal life, against a black background of -utter and hopeless ignorance as to man's past or future. They were -rather expressed by solemn images of mournful, majestic angels and -of triumphant saints, or fearful, warning presentations of loathsome -fiends. Each lonesome gorge and sombre dell had tales no more of -tricky fauns and dryads, but of those restless, wandering demons -who, having lost their own immortality of blessedness, constantly -lie in wait to betray frail humanity, and cheat it of that glorious -inheritance bought by the Great Redemption. - -The education of Agnes had been one which rendered her whole -system peculiarly sensitive and impressible to all influences from -the invisible and unseen. Of this education we shall speak more -particularly hereafter. At present we see her sitting in the twilight -on the moss-grown marble parapet, her distaff, with its silvery flax, -lying idly in her hands, and her widening dark eyes gazing intently -into the gloomy gorge below, from which arose the far-off complaining -babble of the brook at the bottom and the shiver and sigh of evening -winds through the trailing ivy. The white mist was slowly rising, -wavering, undulating, and creeping its slow way up the sides of the -gorge. Now it hid a tuft of foliage, and now it wreathed itself -around a horned clump of aloes, and, streaming far down below it -in the dimness, made it seem like the goblin robe of some strange, -supernatural being. - -The evening light had almost burned out in the sky; only a band of -vivid red lay low in the horizon out to sea, and the round full moon -was just rising like a great silver lamp, while Vesuvius with its smoky -top began in the obscurity to show its faintly flickering fires. A -vague agitation seemed to oppress the child; for she sighed deeply, and -often repeated with fervor the Ave Maria. - -At this moment there began to rise from the very depths of the gorge -below her the sound of a rich tenor voice, with a slow, sad modulation, -and seeming to pulsate upward through the filmy, shifting mists. It was -one of those voices which seem fit to be the outpouring of some spirit -denied all other gifts of expression, and rushing with passionate -fervor through this one gate of utterance. So distinctly were the -words spoken, that they seemed each one to rise as with a separate -intelligence out of the mist, and to knock at the door of the heart. - - Sad is my life, and lonely! - No hope for me, - Save thou, my love, my only, - I see! - - Where art thou, O my fairest? - Where art thou gone? - Dove of the rock, I languish - Alone! - - They say thou art so saintly, - Who dare love thee? - Yet bend thine eyelids holy - On me! - - Though heaven alone possess thee, - Thou dwell'st above, - Yet heaven, didst thou but know it, - Is love. - -There was such an intense earnestness in these sounds, that large tears -gathered in the wide dark eyes, and fell one after another upon the -sweet alyssum and maiden's-hair that grew in the crevices of the marble -wall. She shivered and drew away from the parapet, and thought of -stories she had heard the nuns tell of wandering spirits who sometimes -in lonesome places pour forth such entrancing music as bewilders the -brain of the unwary listener, and leads him to some fearful destruction. - -"Agnes!" said the sharp voice of old Elsie, appearing at the door, -"here! where are you?" - -"Here, grandmamma." - -"Who's that singing this time o' night?" - -"I don't know, grandmamma." - -Somehow the child felt as if that singing were strangely sacred to -her,--a _rapport_ between her and something vague and invisible which -might yet become dear. - -"Is't down in the gorge?" said the old woman, coming with her heavy, -decided step to the parapet, and looking over, her keen black eyes -gleaming like dagger-blades into the mist. "If there's anybody there," -she said, "let them go away, and not be troubling honest women with -any of their caterwauling. Come, Agnes," she said, pulling the girl by -the sleeve, "you must be tired, my lamb! and your evening prayers are -always so long, best be about them, girl, so that old grandmamma may -put you to bed. What ails the girl? Been crying! Your hand is cold as a -stone." - -"Grandmamma, what if that might be a spirit?" she said. "Sister Rosa -told me stories of singing spirits that have been in this very gorge." - -"Likely enough," said Dame Elsie; "but what's that to us? Let 'em -sing!--so long as we don't listen, where's the harm done? We will -sprinkle holy water all round the parapet, and say the office of Saint -Agnes, and let them sing till they are hoarse." - -Such was the triumphant view which this energetic good woman took of -the power of the means of grace which her church placed at her disposal. - -Nevertheless, while Agnes was kneeling at her evening prayers, the old -dame consoled herself with a soliloquy, as with a brush she vigorously -besprinkled the premises with holy water. - -"Now, here's the plague of a girl! If she's handsome,--and nobody wants -one that isn't,--why, then, it's a purgatory to look after her. This -one is good enough,--none of your hussies, like Giulietta: but the -better they are, the more sure to have fellows after them. A murrain -on that cavalier,--king's brother, or what not!--it was he serenading, -I'll be bound. I must tell Antonio, and have the girl married, for -aught I see: and I don't want to give her to him either; he didn't -bring her up. There's no peace for us mothers. Maybe I'll tell Father -Francesco about it. That's the way poor little Isella was carried away. -Singing is of the Devil, I believe; it always bewitches girls. I'd like -to have poured some hot oil down the rocks: I'd have made him squeak in -another tone, I reckon. Well, well! I hope I shall come in for a good -seat in paradise for all the trouble I've had with her mother, and am -like to have with her,--that's all!" - -In an hour more, the large, round, sober moon was shining fixedly on -the little mansion in the rocks, silvering the glossy darkness of the -orange-leaves, while the scent of the blossoms arose like clouds about -the cottage. The moonlight streamed through the unglazed casement, and -made a square of light on the little bed where Agnes was sleeping, -in which square her delicate face was framed, with its tremulous and -spiritual expression most resembling in its sweet plaintive purity some -of the Madonna faces of Fra Angelico,--those tender wild flowers of -Italian religion and poetry. - -By her side lay her grandmother, with those sharp, hard, clearly cut -features, so worn and bronzed by time, so lined with labor and care, as -to resemble one of the Fates in the picture of Michel Angelo; and even -in her sleep she held the delicate lily hand of the child in her own -hard, brown one, with a strong and determined clasp. - -While they sleep, we must tell something more of the story of the -little Agnes,--of what she is, and what are the causes which have made -her such. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -WHO AND WHAT - - -Old Elsie was not born a peasant. Originally she was the wife of -a steward in one of those great families of Rome whose estate and -traditions were princely. Elsie, as her figure and profile and all her -words and movements indicated, was of a strong, shrewd, ambitious, and -courageous character, and well disposed to turn to advantage every gift -with which Nature had endowed her. - -Providence made her a present of a daughter whose beauty was wonderful, -even in a country where beauty is no uncommon accident. In addition to -her beauty, the little Isella had quick intelligence, wit, grace, and -spirit. As a child she became the pet and plaything of the Princess -whom Elsie served. This noble lady, pressed by the _ennui_ which is -always the moth and rust on the purple and gold of rank and wealth, -had, as other noble ladies had in those days, and have now, sundry -pets: greyhounds, white and delicate, that looked as if they were made -of Sevres china; spaniels with long silky ears and fringy paws; apes -and monkeys, that made at times sad devastations in her wardrobe; and -a most charming little dwarf, that was ugly enough to frighten the -very owls, and spiteful as he was ugly. She had, moreover, peacocks, -and macaws, and parrots, and all sorts of singing-birds, and falcons -of every breed, and horses, and hounds,--in short, there is no saying -what she did _not_ have. One day she took it into her head to add the -little Isella to the number of her acquisitions. With the easy grace -of aristocracy, she reached out her jeweled hand and took Elsie's one -flower to add to her conservatory,--and Elsie was only too proud to -have it so. - -Her daughter was kept constantly about the person of the Princess, and -instructed in all the wisdom which would have been allowed her, had -she been the Princess's own daughter, which, to speak the truth, was -in those days nothing very profound,--consisting of a little singing -and instrumentation, a little embroidery and dancing, with the power of -writing her own name and of reading a love letter. - -All the world knows that the very idea of a pet is something to be -spoiled for the amusement of the pet-owner; and Isella was spoiled in -the most particular and circumstantial manner. She had suits of apparel -for every day in the year, and jewels without end,--for the Princess -was never weary of trying the effect of her beauty in this and that -costume; so that she sported through the great grand halls and down the -long aisles of the garden much like a bright-winged humming-bird, or a -damsel-fly all green and gold. She was a genuine child of Italy,--full -of feeling, spirit, and genius,--alive in every nerve to the -finger-tips; and under the tropical sunshine of her mistress's favor -she grew as an Italian rosebush does, throwing its branches freakishly -over everything in a wild labyrinth of perfume, brightness, and thorns. - -For a while her life was a triumph, and her mother triumphed with her -at an humble distance. The Princess was devoted to her with the blind -fatuity with which ladies of rank at times will invest themselves in -a caprice. She arrogated to herself all the praises of her beauty and -wit, allowed her to flirt and make conquests to her heart's content, -and engaged to marry her to some handsome young officer of her train, -when she had done being amused with her. - -Now we must not wonder that a young head of fifteen should have -been turned by this giddy elevation, nor that an old head of fifty -should have thought all things were possible in the fortune of such -a favorite. Nor must we wonder that the young coquette, rich in the -laurels of a hundred conquests, should have turned her bright eyes on -the son and heir, when he came home from the University of Bologna. -Nor is it to be wondered at, that this same son and heir, being a -man as well as a Prince, should have done as other men did,--fallen -desperately in love with this dazzling, sparkling, piquant mixture -of matter and spirit, which no university can prepare a young man to -comprehend,--which always seemed to run from him, and yet always threw -a Parthian shot behind her as she fled. Nor is it to be wondered at, -if this same Prince, after a week or two, did not know whether he was -on his head or his heels, or whether the sun rose in the east or the -south, or where he stood, or whither he was going. - -In fact, the youthful pair very soon came into that dreamland where -are no more any points of the compass, no more division of time, no -more latitude and longitude, no more up and down, but only a general -wandering among enchanted groves and singing nightingales. - -It was entirely owing to old Elsie's watchful shrewdness and address -that the lovers came into this paradise by the gate of marriage; for -the young man was ready to offer anything at the feet of his divinity, -as the old mother was not slow to perceive. - -So they stood at the altar for the time being a pair of as true lovers -as Romeo and Juliet: but then, what has true love to do with the son of -a hundred generations and heir to a Roman principality? - -Of course, the rose of love, having gone through all its stages of bud -and blossom into full flower, must next begin to drop its leaves. Of -course. Who ever heard of an immortal rose? - -The time of discovery came. Isella was found to be a mother; and then -the storm burst upon her and drabbled her in the dust as fearlessly as -the summer wind sweeps down and besmirches the lily it has all summer -been wooing and flattering. - -The Princess was a very pious and moral lady, and of course threw her -favorite out into the street as a vile weed, and virtuously ground her -down under her jeweled high-heeled shoes. - -She could have forgiven her any common frailty; of course it was -natural that the girl should have been seduced by the all-conquering -charms of her son,--but aspire to marriage with their house!--pretend -to be her son's wife! Since the time of Judas had such treachery ever -been heard of? - -Something was said of the propriety of walling up the culprit alive,--a -mode of disposing of small family matters somewhat _a la mode_ in those -times. But the Princess acknowledged herself foolishly tender, and -unable quite to allow this very obvious propriety in the case. - -She contented herself with turning mother and daughter into the streets -with every mark of ignominy, which was reduplicated by every one of her -servants, lackeys, and court-companions, who, of course, had always -known just how the thing must end. - -As to the young Prince, he acted as a well-instructed young nobleman -should, who understands the great difference there is between the tears -of a duchess and those of low-born women. No sooner did he behold his -conduct in the light of his mother's countenance than he turned his -back on his low marriage with edifying penitence. He did not think it -necessary to convince his mother of the real existence of a union whose -very supposition made her so unhappy, and occasioned such an uncommonly -disagreeable and tempestuous state of things in the well-bred circle -where his birth called him to move. Being, however, a religious youth, -he opened his mind to his family-confessor, by whose advice he sent a -messenger with a large sum of money to Elsie, piously commending her -and her daughter to the Divine protection. He also gave orders for an -entire new suit of raiment for the Virgin Mary in the family chapel, -including a splendid set of diamonds, and promised unlimited candles to -the altar of a neighboring convent. If all this could not atone for a -youthful error, it was a pity. So he thought, as he drew on his riding -gloves and went off on a hunting party, like a gallant and religious -young nobleman. - -Elsie, meanwhile, with her forlorn and disgraced daughter, found a -temporary asylum in a neighboring mountain village, where the poor, -bedrabbled, broken-winged song-bird soon panted and fluttered her -little life away. - -When the once beautiful and gay Isella had been hidden in the grave, -cold and lonely, there remained a little wailing infant, which Elsie -gathered to her bosom. - -Grim, dauntless, and resolute, she resolved, for the sake of this -hapless one, to look life in the face once more, and try the battle -under other skies. - -Taking the infant in her arms, she traveled with her far from the scene -of her birth, and set all her energies at work to make for her a better -destiny than that which had fallen to the lot of her unfortunate mother. - -She set about to create her nature and order her fortunes with that -sort of downright energy with which resolute people always attack the -problem of a new human existence. This child should be happy: the rocks -on which her mother was wrecked she should never strike upon,--they -were all marked on Elsie's chart. Love had been the root of all poor -Isella's troubles,--and Agnes never should know love, till taught it -safely by a husband of Elsie's own choosing. - -The first step of security was in naming her for the chaste Saint -Agnes, and placing her girlhood under her special protection. Secondly, -which was quite as much to the point, she brought her up laboriously -in habits of incessant industry,--never suffering her to be out of her -sight, or to have any connection or friendship, except such as could -be carried on under the immediate supervision of her piercing black -eyes. Every night she put her to bed as if she had been an infant, and, -wakening her again in the morning, took her with her in all her daily -toils,--of which, to do her justice, she performed all the hardest -portion, leaving to the girl just enough to keep her hands employed and -her head steady. - -The peculiar circumstance which had led her to choose the old town -of Sorrento for her residence, in preference to any of the beautiful -villages which impearl that fertile plain, was the existence there of -a flourishing convent dedicated to Saint Agnes, under whose protecting -shadow her young charge might more securely spend the earlier years of -her life. - -With this view, having hired the domicile we have already described, -she lost no time in making the favorable acquaintance of the -sisterhood,--never coming to them empty-handed. The finest oranges of -her garden, the whitest flax of her spinning, were always reserved as -offerings at the shrine of the patroness whom she sought to propitiate -for her grandchild. - -In her earliest childhood the little Agnes was led toddling to the -shrine by her zealous relative, and at the sight of her fair, sweet, -awestruck face, with its viny mantle of encircling curls, the torpid -bosoms of the sisterhood throbbed with a strange, new pleasure, which -they humbly hoped was not sinful,--as agreeable things, they found, -generally were. They loved the echoes of her little feet down the damp, -silent aisles of their chapel, and her small, sweet, slender voice, as -she asked strange baby-questions, which, as usual with baby-questions, -hit all the insoluble points of philosophy and theology exactly on the -head. - -The child became a special favorite with the Abbess, Sister Theresa, -a tall, thin, bloodless, sad-eyed woman, who looked as if she might -have been cut out of one of the glaciers of Monte Rosa, but in whose -heart the little fair one had made herself a niche, pushing her way up -through, as you may have seen a lovely blue-fringed gentian standing in -a snowdrift of the Alps with its little ring of melted snow around it. - -Sister Theresa offered to take care of the child at any time when the -grandmother wished to be about her labors; and so, during her early -years, the little one was often domesticated for days together at the -Convent. A perfect mythology of wonderful stories encircled her, which -the good sisters were never tired of repeating to each other. They were -the simplest sayings and doings of childhood,--handfuls of such wild -flowers as bespread the green turf of nursery-life everywhere, but -miraculous blossoms in the eyes of these good women, whom Saint Agnes -had unwittingly deprived of any power of making comparisons or ever -having Christ's sweetest parable of the heavenly kingdom enacted in -homes of their own. - -Old Jocunda, the portress, never failed to make a sensation with her -one stock-story of how she found the child standing on her head and -crying,--having been put into this reversed position in consequence of -climbing up on a high stool to get her little fat hand into the vase of -holy water, failing in which Christian attempt, her heels went up and -her head down, greatly to her dismay. - -"Nevertheless," said old Jocunda, gravely, "it showed an edifying turn -in the child; and when I lifted the little thing up, it stopped crying -the minute its little fingers touched the water, and it made a cross on -its forehead as sensible as the oldest among us. Ah, sisters, there's -grace there, or I'm mistaken." - -All the signs of an incipient saint were, indeed, manifested in the -little one. She never played the wild and noisy plays of common -children, but busied herself in making altars and shrines, which she -adorned with the prettiest flowers of the gardens, and at which she -worked hour after hour in the quietest and happiest earnestness. -Her dreams were a constant source of wonder and edification in the -Convent, for they were all of angels and saints; and many a time, after -hearing one, the sisterhood crossed themselves, and the Abbess said, -"_Ex oribus parvulorum_." Always sweet, dutiful, submissive, cradling -herself every night with a lulling of sweet hymns and infant murmur of -prayers, and found sleeping in her little white bed with her crucifix -clasped to her bosom, it was no wonder that the Abbess thought her the -special favorite of her divine patroness, and like her the subject of -an early vocation to be the celestial bride of One fairer than the -children of men, who should snatch her away from all earthly things, to -be united to Him in a celestial paradise. - -As the child grew older, she often sat at evening with wide, wondering -eyes, listening over and over again to the story of the fair Saint -Agnes,--how she was a princess, living in her father's palace, of such -exceeding beauty and grace that none saw her but to love her, yet of -such sweetness and humility as passed all comparison; and how, when -a heathen prince would have espoused her to his son, she said, "Away -from me, tempter! for I am betrothed to a lover who is greater and -fairer than any earthly suitor,--he is so fair that the sun and moon -are ravished by his beauty, so mighty that the angels of heaven are his -servants;" how she bore meekly with persecutions and threatenings and -death for the sake of this unearthly love; and when she had poured out -her blood, how she came to her mourning friends in ecstatic vision, -all white and glistening, with a fair lamb by her side, and bade them -weep not for her, because she was reigning with Him whom on earth she -had preferred to all other lovers. There was also the legend of the -fair Cecilia, the lovely musician whom angels had rapt away to their -choirs; the story of that queenly saint, Catharine, who passed through -the courts of heaven, and saw the angels crowned with roses and lilies, -and the Virgin on her throne, who gave her the wedding ring that -espoused her to be the bride of the King Eternal. - -Fed with such legends, it could not be but that a child with a -sensitive, nervous organization and vivid imagination, should have -grown up with an unworldly and spiritual character, and that a poetic -mist should have enveloped all her outward perceptions similar to that -palpitating veil of blue and lilac vapor that enshrouds the Italian -landscape. - -Nor is it to be marveled at, if the results of this system of education -went far beyond what the good old grandmother intended. For, though a -stanch good Christian, after the manner of those times, yet she had not -the slightest mind to see her grand-daughter a nun; on the contrary, -she was working day and night to add to her dowry, and had in her eye -a reputable middle-aged blacksmith, who was a man of substance and -prudence, to be the husband and keeper of her precious treasure. In a -home thus established she hoped to enthrone herself, and provide for -the rearing of a generation of stout-limbed girls and boys who should -grow up to make a flourishing household in the land. This subject she -had not yet broached to her grand-daughter, though daily preparing to -do so,--deferring it, it must be told, from a sort of jealous, yearning -craving to have wholly to herself the child for whom she had lived so -many years. - -Antonio, the blacksmith to whom this honor was destined, was one of -those broad-backed, full-chested, long-limbed fellows one shall often -see around Sorrento, with great, kind, black eyes like those of an ox, -and all the attributes of a healthy, kindly, animal nature. Contentedly -he hammered away at his business; and certainly, had not Dame Elsie -of her own providence elected him to be the husband of her fair -grand-daughter, he would never have thought of the matter himself; but, -opening the black eyes aforenamed upon the girl, he perceived that she -was fair, and also received an inner light through Dame Elsie as to the -amount of her dowry; and, putting these matters together, conceived a -kindness for the maiden, and awaited with tranquillity the time when he -should be allowed to commence his wooing. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -IL PADRE FRANCESCO - - -The next morning Elsie awoke, as was her custom, when the very faintest -hue of dawn streaked the horizon. A hen who has seen a hawk balancing -his wings and cawing in mid-air over her downy family could not -have awakened with her feathers, metaphorically speaking, in a more -bristling state of caution. - -"Spirits in the gorge, quotha?" said she to herself, as she vigorously -adjusted her dress. "I believe so,--spirits in good sound bodies, -I believe; and next we shall hear, there will be rope-ladders, and -climbings, and the Lord knows what. I shall go to confession this very -morning, and tell Father Francesco the danger; and instead of taking -her down to sell oranges, suppose I send her to the sisters to carry -the ring and a basket of oranges?" - -"Ah, ah!" she said, pausing, after she was dressed, and addressing a -coarse print of Saint Agnes pasted against the wall,--"you look very -meek there, and it was a great thing, no doubt, to die as you did; but -if you'd lived to be married and bring up a family of girls, you'd -have known something greater. Please, don't take offense with a poor -old woman who has got into the way of speaking her mind freely! I'm -foolish, and don't know much,--so, dear lady, pray for me!" And old -Elsie bent her knee and crossed herself reverently, and then went out, -leaving her young charge still sleeping. - -It was yet dusky dawn when she might have been seen kneeling, with her -sharp, clear-cut profile, at the grate of a confession-box in a church -in Sorrento. Within was seated a personage who will have some influence -on our story, and who must therefore be somewhat minutely introduced to -the reader. - -Il Padre Francesco had only within the last year arrived in the -neighborhood, having been sent as superior of a brotherhood of -Capuchins, whose convent was perched on a crag in the vicinity. With -this situation came a pastoral care of the district; and Elsie and her -grand-daughter found in him a spiritual pastor very different from -the fat, jolly, easy Brother Girolamo, to whose place he had been -appointed. The latter had been one of those numerous priests taken from -the peasantry, who never rise above the average level of thought of -the body from which they are drawn. Easy, gossipy, fond of good living -and good stories, sympathetic in troubles and in joys, he had been a -general favorite in the neighborhood, without exerting any particularly -spiritualizing influence. - -It required but a glance at Father Francesco to see that he was in all -respects the opposite of this. It was evident that he came from one of -the higher classes, by that indefinable air of birth and breeding which -makes itself felt under every change of costume. Who he might be, what -might have been his past history, what rank he might have borne, what -part played in the great warfare of life, was all of course sunk in the -oblivion of his religious profession, where, as at the grave, a man -laid down name and fame and past history and worldly goods, and took up -a coarse garb and a name chosen from the roll of the saints, in sign -that the world that had known him should know him no more. - -Imagine a man between thirty and forty, with that round, full, evenly -developed head, and those chiseled features, which one sees on ancient -busts and coins no less than in the streets of modern Rome. The -cheeks were sunken and sallow; the large, black, melancholy eyes had -a wistful, anxious, penetrative expression, that spoke a stringent, -earnest spirit, which, however deep might be the grave in which it -lay buried, had not yet found repose. The long, thin, delicately -formed hands were emaciated and bloodless; they clasped with a nervous -eagerness a rosary and crucifix of ebony and silver,--the only mark of -luxury that could be discerned in a costume unusually threadbare and -squalid. The whole picture of the man, as he sat there, had it been -painted and hung in a gallery, was such as must have stopped every -person of a certain amount of sensibility before it with the conviction -that behind that strong, melancholy, earnest figure and face lay one -of those hidden histories of human passion in which the vivid life of -mediaeval Italy was so fertile. - -He was listening to Elsie, as she kneeled, with that easy air of -superiority which marks a practiced man of the world, yet with a grave -attention which showed that her communication had awakened the deepest -interest in his mind. Every few moments he moved slightly in his seat, -and interrupted the flow of the narrative by an inquiry concisely put, -in tones which, clear and low, had a solemn and severe distinctness, -producing, in the still, dusky twilight of the church, an almost -ghostly effect. - -When the communication was over, he stepped out of the confessional -and said to Elsie in parting, "My daughter, you have done well to take -this in time. The devices of Satan in our corrupt times are numerous -and artful, and they who keep the Lord's sheep must not sleep. Before -many days I will call and examine the child; meanwhile I approve your -course." - -It was curious to see the awestruck, trembling manner in which old -Elsie, generally so intrepid and commanding, stood before this man -in his brown rough woolen gown with his corded waist; but she had an -instinctive perception of the presence of the man of superior birth no -less than a reverence for the man of religion. - -After she had departed from the church, the Capuchin stood lost in -thought; and to explain his revery, we must throw some further light on -his history. - -Il Padre Francesco, as his appearance and manner intimated, was in -truth from one of the most distinguished families of Florence. He was -one of those whom an ancient writer characterizes as "men of longing -desire." Born with a nature of restless stringency that seemed to doom -him never to know repose, excessive in all things, he had made early -trial of ambition, of war, and of what the gallants of his time called -love,--plunging into all the dissipated excesses of a most dissolute -age, and outdoing in luxury and extravagance the foremost of his -companions. - -The wave of a great religious impulse--which in our times would have -been called a revival--swept over the city of Florence, and bore him, -with multitudes of others, to listen to the fervid preaching of the -Dominican monk, Jerome Savonarola; and amid the crowd that trembled, -wept, and beat their breasts under his awful denunciations, he, too, -felt within himself a heavenly call,--the death of an old life, and the -uprising of a new purpose. - -The colder manners and more repressed habits of modern times can give -no idea of the wild fervor of a religious revival among a people so -passionate and susceptible to impressions as the Italians. It swept -society like a spring torrent from the sides of the Apennines, bearing -all before it. Houses were sacked with religious fervor by penitent -owners, and licentious pictures and statuary and books, and all the -thousand temptations and appliances of a luxurious age, were burned in -the great public square. Artists convicted of impure and licentious -designs threw their palettes and brushes into the expiatory flames, and -retired to convents, till called forth by the voice of the preacher, -and bid to turn their art into higher channels. Since the days of -Saint Francis no such profound religious impulse had agitated the -Italian community. - -In our times a conversion is signalized by few outward changes, however -deep the inner life; but the life of the Middle Ages was profoundly -symbolical, and always required the help of material images in its -expression. - -The gay and dissolute young Lorenzo Sforza took leave of the world with -rites of awful solemnity. He made his will and disposed of all his -worldly property, and assembling his friends, bade them the farewell -of a dying man. Arrayed as for the grave, he was laid in his coffin, -and thus carried from his stately dwelling by the brethren of the -Misericordia, who, in their ghostly costume, with mournful chants and -lighted candles, bore him to the tomb of his ancestors, where the -coffin was deposited in the vault, and its occupant passed the awful -hours of the night in darkness and solitude. Thence he was carried, the -next day, almost in a state of insensibility, to a neighboring convent -of the severest order, where, for some weeks, he observed a penitential -retreat of silence and prayer, neither seeing nor hearing any living -being but his spiritual director. - -The effect of all this on an ardent and sensitive temperament can -scarcely be conceived; and it is not to be wondered at that the once -gay and luxurious Lorenzo Sforza, when emerging from this tremendous -discipline, was so wholly lost in the worn and weary Padre Francesco -that it seemed as if in fact he had died and another had stepped into -his place. The face was ploughed deep with haggard furrows, and the -eyes were as those of a man who has seen the fearful secrets of another -life. He voluntarily sought a post as far removed as possible from the -scenes of his early days, so as more completely to destroy his identity -with the past; and he devoted himself with enthusiasm to the task of -awakening to a higher spiritual life the indolent, self-indulgent monks -of his order, and the ignorant peasantry of the vicinity. - -But he soon discovered, what every earnest soul learns who has been -baptized into a sense of things invisible, how utterly powerless and -inert any mortal man is to inspire others with his own insights and -convictions. With bitter discouragement and chagrin, he saw that the -spiritual man must forever lift the dead weight of all the indolence -and indifference and animal sensuality that surround him,--that the -curse of Cassandra is upon him, forever to burn and writhe under -awful visions of truths which no one around him will regard. In early -life the associate only of the cultivated and the refined, Father -Francesco could not but experience at times an insupportable _ennui_ -in listening to the confessions of people who had never learned -either to think or to feel with any degree of distinctness, and whom -his most fervent exhortations could not lift above the most trivial -interests of a mere animal life. He was weary of the childish quarrels -and bickerings of the monks, of their puerility, of their selfishness -and self-indulgence, of their hopeless vulgarity of mind, and utterly -discouraged with their inextricable labyrinths of deception. A -melancholy deep as the grave seized on him, and he redoubled his -austerities, in the hope that by making life painful he might make it -also short. - -But the first time that the clear, sweet tones of Agnes rang in his -ears at the confessional, and her words, so full of unconscious poetry -and repressed genius, came like a strain of sweet music through the -grate, he felt at his heart a thrill to which it had long been a -stranger, and which seemed to lift the weary, aching load from off his -soul, as if some invisible angel had borne it up on his wings. - -In his worldly days he had known women as the gallants in Boccaccio's -romances knew them, and among them one enchantress whose sorceries -had kindled in his heart one of those fatal passions which burn out -the whole of a man's nature, and leave it, like a sacked city, only -a smouldering heap of ashes. Deepest, therefore, among his vows of -renunciation had been those which divided him from all womankind. The -gulf that parted him and them was in his mind deep as hell, and he -thought of the sex only in the light of temptation and danger. For -the first time in his life, an influence serene, natural, healthy, -and sweet breathed over him from the mind of a woman,--an influence -so heavenly and peaceful that he did not challenge or suspect it, -but rather opened his worn heart insensibly to it, as one in a fetid -chamber naturally breathes freer when the fresh air is admitted. - -How charming it was to find his most spiritual exhortations seized upon -with the eager comprehension of a nature innately poetic and ideal! -Nay, it sometimes seemed to him as if the suggestions which he gave -her dry and leafless she brought again to him in miraculous clusters -of flowers, like the barren rod of Joseph, which broke into blossoms -when he was betrothed to the spotless Mary; and yet, withal, she was -so humbly unconscious, so absolutely ignorant of the beauty of all she -said and thought, that she impressed him less as a mortal woman than as -one of those divine miracles in feminine form of which he had heard in -the legends of the saints. - -Thenceforward his barren, discouraged life began to blossom with -wayside flowers,--and he mistrusted not the miracle, because the -flowers were all heavenly. The pious thought or holy admonition that he -saw trodden under the swinish feet of the monks he gathered up again in -hope,--_she_ would understand it; and gradually all his thoughts became -like carrier-doves, which, having once learned the way to a favorite -haunt, are ever fluttering to return thither. - -Such is the wonderful power of human sympathy, that the discovery -even of the existence of a soul capable of understanding our inner -life often operates as a perfect charm; every thought, and feeling, -and aspiration carries with it a new value, from the interwoven -consciousness that attends it of the worth it would bear to that other -mind; so that, while that person lives, our existence is doubled in -value, even though oceans divide us. - -The cloud of hopeless melancholy which had brooded over the mind of -Father Francesco lifted and sailed away, he knew not why, he knew not -when. A secret joyfulness and alacrity possessed his spirits; his -prayers became more fervent and his praises more frequent. Until now, -his meditations had been most frequently those of fear and wrath,--the -awful majesty of God, the terrible punishment of sinners, which he -conceived with all that haggard, dreadful sincerity of vigor which -characterized the modern Etruscan phase of religion of which the -"Inferno" of Dante was the exponent and the outcome. His preachings -and his exhortations had dwelt on that lurid world seen by the severe -Florentine, at whose threshold hope forever departs, and around whose -eternal circles of living torture the shivering spirit wanders dismayed -and blasted by terror. - -He had been shocked and discouraged to find how utterly vain had been -his most intense efforts to stem the course of sin by presenting these -images of terror: how hard natures had listened to them with only a -coarse and cruel appetite, which seemed to increase their hardness and -brutality; and how timid ones had been withered by them, like flowers -scorched by the blast of a furnace; how, in fact, as in the case of -those cruel executions and bloody tortures then universal in the -jurisprudence of Europe, these pictures of eternal torture seemed to -exert a morbid demoralizing influence which hurried on the growth of -iniquity. - -But since his acquaintance with Agnes, without his knowing exactly -why, thoughts of the Divine Love had floated into his soul, filling it -with a golden cloud like that which of old rested over the mercy-seat -in that sacred inner temple where the priest was admitted alone. He -became more affable and tender, more tolerant to the erring, more fond -of little children; would stop sometimes to lay his hand on the head -of a child, or to raise up one who lay overthrown in the street. The -song of little birds and the voices of animal life became to him full -of tenderness; and his prayers by the sick and dying seemed to have a -melting power, such as he had never known before. It was spring in his -soul,--soft, Italian spring,--such as brings out the musky breath of -the cyclamen, and the faint, tender perfume of the primrose, in every -moist dell of the Apennines. - -A year passed in this way, perhaps the best and happiest of his -troubled life,--a year in which, insensibly to himself, the weekly -interviews with Agnes at the confessional became the rallying points -around which the whole of his life was formed, and she the unsuspected -spring of his inner being. - -It was his duty, he said to himself, to give more than usual time and -thought to the working and polishing of this wondrous jewel which had -so unexpectedly been intrusted to him for the adorning of his Master's -crown; and so long as he conducted with the strictest circumspection -of his office, what had he to fear in the way of so delightful a duty? -He had never touched her hand; never had even the folds of her passing -drapery brushed against his garments of mortification and renunciation; -never, even in pastoral benediction, had he dared lay his hand on that -beautiful head. It is true, he had not forbidden himself to raise his -glance sometimes when he saw her coming in at the church door and -gliding up the aisle with downcast eyes, and thoughts evidently so far -above earth that she seemed, like one of Fra Angelico's angels, to be -moving on a cloud, so encompassed with stillness and sanctity that he -held his breath as she passed. - -But in the confession of Dame Elsie that morning he had received a -shock which threw his whole interior being into a passionate agitation -which dismayed and astonished him. - -The thought of Agnes, his spotless lamb, exposed to lawless and -licentious pursuit, of whose nature and probabilities his past life -gave him only too clear an idea, was of itself a very natural source of -anxiety. But Elsie had unveiled to him her plans for her marriage, and -consulted him on the propriety of placing Agnes immediately under the -protection of the husband she had chosen for her; and it was this part -of her communication which had awakened the severest internal recoil, -and raised a tumult of passions which the priest vainly sought either -to assuage or understand. - -As soon as his morning duties were over, he repaired to his convent, -sought his cell, and, prostrate on his face before the crucifix, began -his internal reckoning with himself. The day passed in fasting and -solitude. - -It is now golden evening, and on the square, flat roof of the convent, -which, high-perched on a crag, overlooks the bay, one might observe a -dark figure slowly pacing backward and forward. It is Father Francesco; -and as he walks up and down, one could see by his large, bright, -dilated eye, by the vivid red spot on either sunken cheek, and by the -nervous energy of his movements, that he is in the very height of some -mental crisis,--in that state of placid _extase_ in which the subject -supposes himself perfectly calm, because every nerve is screwed to the -highest point of tension and can vibrate no more. - -What oceans had that day rolled over him and swept him, as one may see -a little boat rocked on the capricious surges of the Mediterranean! -Were, then, all his strivings and agonies in vain? Did he love this -woman with any earthly love? Was he jealous of the thought of a future -husband? Was it a tempting demon that said to him, "Lorenzo Sforza -might have shielded this treasure from the profanation of lawless -violence, from the brute grasp of an inappreciative peasant, but Father -Francesco cannot"? There was a moment when his whole being vibrated -with a perception of what a marriage bond might have been that was -indeed a sacrament, and that bound together two pure and loyal souls -who gave life and courage to each other in all holy purposes and heroic -deeds; and he almost feared that he had cursed his vows,--those awful -vows, at whose remembrance his inmost soul shivered through every nerve. - -But after hours of prayer and struggle, and wave after wave of -agonizing convulsion, he gained one of those high points in human -possibility where souls can stand a little while at a time, and where -all things seem so transfigured and pure that they fancy themselves -thenceforward forever victorious over evil. - -As he walks up and down in the gold-and-purple evening twilight, his -mind seems to him calm as that glowing sea that reflects the purple -shores of Ischia, and the quaint, fantastic grottoes and cliffs of -Capri. All is golden and glowing; he sees all clear; he is delivered -from his spiritual enemies; he treads them under his feet. - -Yes, he says to himself, he loves Agnes,--loves her all-sacredly as -her guardian angel does, who ever beholdeth the face of her Father in -Heaven. Why, then, does he shrink from her marriage? Is it not evident? -Has that tender soul, that poetic nature, that aspiring genius, -anything in common with the vulgar coarse details of a peasant's life? -Will not her beauty always draw the eye of the licentious, expose her -artless innocence to solicitation which will annoy her and bring upon -her head the inconsiderate jealousy of her husband? Think of Agnes made -subject to the rude authority, to the stripes and correction, which men -of the lower class, under the promptings of jealousy, do not scruple -to inflict on their wives! What career did society, as then organized, -present to such a nature, so perilously gifted in body and mind? He has -the answer. The Church has opened a career to woman which all the world -denies her. - -He remembers the story of the dyer's daughter of Siena, the fair -Saint Catharine. In his youth he had often visited the convent where -one of the first artists of Italy has immortalized her conflicts and -her victories, and knelt with his mother at the altar where she now -communes with the faithful. He remembered how, by her sanctity, her -humility, and her holy inspirations of soul, she had risen to the -courts of princes, whither she had been sent as ambassadress to arrange -for the interests of the Church; and then rose before his mind's eye -the gorgeous picture of Pinturicchio, where, borne in celestial repose -and purity amid all the powers and dignitaries of the Church, she is -canonized as one of those that shall reign and intercede with Christ in -heaven. - -Was it wrong, therefore, in him, though severed from all womankind -by a gulf of irrevocable vows, that he should feel a kind of jealous -property in this gifted and beautiful creature? and though he might -not, even in thought, dream of possessing her himself, was there sin in -the vehement energy with which his whole nature rose up in him to say -that no other man should,--that she should be the bride of Heaven alone? - -Certainly, if there were, it lurked far out of sight, and the priest -had a case that might have satisfied a conscience even more fastidious; -and he felt a sort of triumph in the results of his mental scrutiny. - -Yes, she should ascend from glory to glory,--but his should be the hand -that should lead her upward. He would lead her within the consecrated -grate,--he would pronounce the awful words that should make it -sacrilege for all other men to approach her; and yet through life he -should be the guardian and director of her soul, the one being to whom -she should render an obedience as unlimited as that which belongs to -Christ alone. - -Such were the thoughts of this victorious hour, which, alas! were -destined to fade as those purple skies and golden fires gradually went -out, leaving, in place of their light and glory, only the lurid glow of -Vesuvius. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE WALK TO THE CONVENT - - -Elsie returned from the confessional a little after sunrise, much -relieved and satisfied. Padre Francesco had shown such a deep interest -in her narrative that she was highly gratified. Then he had given her -advice which exactly accorded with her own views; and such advice is -always regarded as an eminent proof of sagacity in the giver. - -On the point of the marriage he had recommended delay,--a course quite -in accordance with Elsie's desire, who, curiously enough, ever since -her treaty of marriage with Antonio had been commenced, had cherished -the most whimsical, jealous dislike of him, as if he were about to get -away her grandchild from her; and this rose at times so high that she -could scarcely speak peaceably to him,--a course of things which caused -Antonio to open wide his great soft ox-eyes, and wonder at the ways of -womankind; but he waited the event in philosophic tranquillity. - -The morning sunbeams were shooting many a golden shaft among the -orange-trees when Elsie returned and found Agnes yet kneeling at her -prayers. - -"Now, my little heart," said the old woman, when their morning meal was -done, "I am going to give you a holiday to-day. I will go with you to -the Convent, and you shall spend the day with the sisters, and so carry -Saint Agnes her ring." - -"Oh, thank you, grandmamma! how good you are! May I stop a little on -the way, and pick some cyclamen and myrtles and daisies for her shrine?" - -"Just as you like, child; but if you are going to do that, we must be -off soon, for I must be at my stand betimes to sell oranges: I had them -all picked this morning while my little darling was asleep." - -"You always do everything, grandmamma, and leave me nothing to do: it -is not fair. But, grandmamma, if we are going to get flowers by the -way, let us follow down the stream, through the gorge, out upon the -sea-beach, and so walk along the sands, and go by the back path up the -rocks to the Convent: that walk is so shady and lovely at this time in -the morning, and it is so fresh along by the seaside!" - -"As you please, dearie; but first fill a little basket with our best -oranges for the sisters." - -"Trust me for that!" And the girl ran eagerly to the house, and drew -from her treasures a little white wicker basket, which she proceeded -to line curiously with orange-leaves, sticking sprays of blossoms in a -wreath round the border. - -"Now for some of our best blood-oranges!" she said; "old Jocunda says -they put her in mind of pomegranates. And here are some of these little -ones,--see here, grandmamma!" she exclaimed as she turned and held up a -branch just broken, where five small golden balls grew together with a -pearly spray of white buds just beyond them. - -The exercise of springing up for the branch had sent a vivid glow -into her clear brown cheek, and her eyes were dilated with excitement -and pleasure; and as she stood joyously holding the branch, while the -flickering shadows fell on her beautiful face, she seemed more like a -painter's dream than a reality. - -Her grandmother stood a moment admiring her. - -"She's too good and too pretty for Antonio or any other man: she -ought to be kept to look at," she said to herself. "If I could keep -her always, no man should have her; but death will come, and youth and -beauty go, and so somebody must care for her." - -When the basket was filled and trimmed, Agnes took it on her arm. Elsie -raised and poised on her head the great square basket that contained -her merchandise, and began walking erect and straight down the narrow -rocky stairs that led into the gorge, holding her distaff with its -white flax in her hands, and stepping as easily as if she bore no -burden. - -Agnes followed her with light, irregular movements, glancing aside -from time to time, as a tuft of flowers or a feathery spray of leaves -attracted her fancy. In a few moments her hands were too full, and -her woolen apron of many-colored stripes was raised over one arm to -hold her treasures, while a hymn to Saint Agnes, which she constantly -murmured to herself, came in little ripples of sound, now from behind -a rock, and now out of a tuft of bushes, to show where the wanderer -was hid. The song, like many Italian ones, would be nothing in -English,--only a musical repetition of sweet words to a very simple -and childlike idea, the _bella_, _bella_, _bella_ ringing out in every -verse with a tender joyousness that seemed in harmony with the waving -ferns and pendent flowers and long ivy-wreaths from among which its -notes issued. "Beautiful and sweet Agnes," it said, in a thousand -tender repetitions, "make me like thy little white lamb! Beautiful -Agnes, take me to the green fields where Christ's lambs are feeding! -Sweeter than the rose, fairer than the lily, take me where thou art!" - -At the bottom of the ravine a little stream tinkles its way among -stones so mossy in their deep, cool shadow as to appear all verdure; -for seldom the light of the sun can reach the darkness where they lie. -A little bridge, hewn from solid rock, throws across the shrunken -stream an arch much wider than its waters seem to demand; for in spring -and autumn, when the torrents wash down from the mountains, its volume -is often suddenly increased. - -This bridge was so entirely and evenly grown over with short thick moss -that it might seem cut of some strange kind of living green velvet, and -here and there it was quaintly embroidered with small blossoming tufts -of white alyssum, or feathers of ferns and maiden's-hair which shook -and trembled to every breeze. Nothing could be lovelier than this mossy -bridge, when some stray sunbeam, slanting up the gorge, took a fancy -to light it up with golden hues, and give transparent greenness to the -tremulous thin leaves that waved upon it. - -On this spot Elsie paused a moment, and called back after Agnes, who -had disappeared into one of those deep grottoes with which the sides of -the gorge are perforated, and which are almost entirely veiled by the -pendent ivy-wreaths. - -"Agnes! Agnes! wild girl! come quick!" - -Only the sound of "_Bella, bella Agnella_" came out of the ivy-leaves -to answer her; but it sounded so happy and innocent that Elsie could -not forbear a smile, and in a moment Agnes came springing down with a -quantity of the feathery lycopodium in her hands, which grows nowhere -so well as in moist and dripping places. - -Out of her apron were hanging festoons of golden broom, crimson -gladiolus, and long, trailing sprays of ivy; while she held aloft in -triumph a handful of the most superb cyclamen, whose rosy crowns rise -so beautifully above their dark quaint leaves in moist and shady places. - -"See, see, grandmother, what an offering I have! Saint Agnes will be -pleased with me to-day; for I believe in her heart she loves flowers -better than gems." - -"Well, well, wild one,--time flies, we must hurry." And crossing the -bridge quickly, the grandmother struck into a mossy footpath that led -them, after some walking, under the old Roman bridge at the gateway of -Sorrento. Two hundred feet above their heads rose the mighty arches, -enameled with moss and feathered with ferns all the way; and below this -bridge the gorge grew somewhat wider, its sides gradually receding -and leaving a beautiful flat tract of land, which was laid out as an -orange-orchard. The golden fruit was shut in by rocky walls on either -side which here formed a perfect hotbed, and no oranges were earlier or -finer. - -Through this beautiful orchard the two at length emerged from the gorge -upon the sea-sands, where lay the blue Mediterranean swathed in bands -of morning mist, its many-colored waters shimmering with a thousand -reflected lights, and old Capri panting through sultry blue mists, and -Vesuvius with his cloud-spotted sides and smoke-wreathed top burst -into view. At a little distance a boat-load of bronzed fishermen had -just drawn in a net, from which they were throwing out a quantity of -sardines, which flapped and fluttered in the sunshine like scales of -silver. The wind blowing freshly bore thousands of little purple waves -to break one after another at the foamy line which lay on the sand. - -Agnes ran gayly along the beach with her flowers and vines fluttering -from her gay striped apron, and her cheeks flushed with exercise -and pleasure,--sometimes stopping and turning with animation to -her grandmother to point out the various floral treasures that -enameled every crevice and rift of the steep wall of rock which rose -perpendicularly above their heads in that whole line of the shore which -is crowned with the old city of Sorrento: and surely never did rocky -wall show to the open sea a face more picturesque and flowery. The deep -red cliff was hollowed here and there into fanciful grottoes, draped -with every varied hue and form of vegetable beauty. Here a crevice -high in air was all abloom with purple gillyflower, and depending in -festoons above it the golden blossoms of the broom; here a cleft seemed -to be a nestling-place for a colony of gladiolus, with its crimson -flowers and blade-like leaves; here the silver-frosted foliage of -the miller-geranium, or of the wormwood, toned down the extravagant -brightness of other blooms by its cooler tints. In some places it -seemed as if a sort of floral cascade were tumbling confusedly over the -rocks, mingling all hues and all forms in a tangled mass of beauty. - -"Well, well," said old Elsie, as Agnes pointed to some superb -gillyflowers which grew nearly half-way up the precipice, "is the child -possessed? You have all the gorge in your apron already. Stop looking, -and let us hurry on." - -After a half-hour's walk, they came to a winding staircase cut in the -rock, which led them a zigzag course up through galleries and grottoes -looking out through curious windows and loop-holes upon the sea, till -finally they emerged at the old sculptured portal of a shady garden -which was surrounded by the cloistered arcades of the Convent of Saint -Agnes. - -The Convent of Saint Agnes was one of those monuments in which the -piety of the Middle Ages delighted to commemorate the triumphs of the -new Christianity over the old Heathenism. - -The balmy climate and paradisiacal charms of Sorrento and the adjacent -shores of Naples had made them favorite resorts during the latter -period of the Roman Empire,--a period when the whole civilized world -seemed to human view about to be dissolved in the corruption of -universal sensuality. The shores of Baiae were witnesses of the orgies -and cruelties of Nero and a court made in his likeness, and the -palpitating loveliness of Capri became the hotbed of the unnatural -vices of Tiberius. The whole of Southern Italy was sunk in a -debasement of animalism and ferocity which seemed irrecoverable, and -would have been so, had it not been for the handful of salt which a -Galilean peasant had about that time cast into the putrid, fermenting -mass of human society. - -We must not wonder at the zeal which caused the artistic Italian nature -to love to celebrate the passing away of an era of unnatural vice and -demoniac cruelty by visible images of the purity, the tenderness, the -universal benevolence which Jesus had brought into the world. - -Sometime about the middle of the thirteenth century, it had been a -favorite enterprise of a princess of a royal family in Naples to erect -a convent to Saint Agnes, the guardian of female purity, out of the -wrecks and remains of an ancient temple of Venus, whose white pillars -and graceful acanthus-leaves once crowned a portion of the precipice -on which the town was built, and were reflected from the glassy blue -of the sea at its feet. It was said that this princess was the first -lady abbess. Be that as it may, it proved to be a favorite retreat for -many ladies of rank and religious aspiration, whom ill-fortune in some -of its varying forms led to seek its quiet shades, and it was well and -richly endowed by its royal patrons. - -It was built after the manner of conventual buildings generally,--in a -hollow square, with a cloistered walk around the inside looking upon a -garden. - -The portal at which Agnes and her grandmother knocked, after ascending -the winding staircase cut in the precipice, opened through an arched -passage into this garden. - -As the ponderous door swung open, it was pleasant to hear the lulling -sound of a fountain, which came forth with a gentle patter, like that -of soft summer rain, and to see the waving of rose-bushes and golden -jessamines, and smell the perfumes of orange-blossoms mingling with -those of a thousand other flowers. - -The door was opened by an odd-looking portress. She might be -seventy-five or eighty; her cheeks were of the color of very yellow -parchment drawn in dry wrinkles; her eyes were those large, dark, -lustrous ones so common in her country, but seemed, in the general -decay and shrinking of every other part of her face, to have acquired -a wild, unnatural appearance; while the falling away of her teeth left -nothing to impede the meeting of her hooked nose with her chin. Add to -this, she was humpbacked, and twisted in her figure; and one needs all -the force of her very good-natured, kindly smile to redeem the image -of poor old Jocunda from association with that of some Thracian witch, -and cause one to see in her the appropriate portress of a Christian -institution. - -Nevertheless, Agnes fell upon her neck and imprinted a very fervent -kiss upon what was left of her withered cheek, and was repaid by a -shower of those epithets of endearment which in the language of Italy -fly thick and fast as the petals of the orange blossom from her groves. - -"Well, well," said old Elsie, "I'm going to leave her here to-day. -You've no objections, I suppose?" - -"Bless the sweet lamb, no! She belongs here of good right. I believe -blessed Saint Agnes has adopted her; for I've seen her smile, plain as -could be, when the little one brought her flowers." - -"Well, Agnes," said the old woman, "I shall come for you after the Ave -Maria." Saying which, she lifted her basket and departed. - -The garden where the two were left was one of the most peaceful -retreats that the imagination of a poet could create. - -Around it ran on all sides the Byzantine arches of a cloistered walk, -which, according to the quaint, rich fashion of that style, had been -painted with vermilion, blue, and gold. The vaulted roof was spangled -with gold stars on a blue ground, and along the sides was a series of -fresco pictures representing the various scenes in the life of Saint -Agnes; and as the foundress of the Convent was royal in her means, -there was no lack either of gold or gems or of gorgeous painting. - -Full justice was done in the first picture to the princely wealth -and estate of the fair Agnes, who was represented as a pure-looking, -pensive child, standing in a thoughtful attitude, with long ripples of -golden hair flowing down over a simple white tunic, and her small hands -clasping a cross on her bosom, while, kneeling at her feet, obsequious -slaves and tire-women were offering the richest gems and the most -gorgeous robes to her serious and abstracted gaze. - -In another, she was represented as walking modestly to school, and -winning the admiration of the son of the Roman Praetor, who fell -sick--so says the legend--for the love of her. - -Then there was the demand of her hand in marriage by the princely -father of the young man, and her calm rejection of the gorgeous gifts -and splendid gems which he had brought to purchase her consent. - -Then followed in order her accusation before the tribunals as a -Christian, her trial, and the various scenes of her martyrdom. - -Although the drawing of the figures and the treatment of the subjects -had the quaint stiffness of the thirteenth century, their general -effect, as seen from the shady bowers of the garden, was of a solemn -brightness, a strange and fanciful richness, which was poetical and -impressive. - -In the centre of the garden was a fountain of white marble, which -evidently was the wreck of something that had belonged to the old Greek -temple. The statue of a nymph sat on a green mossy pedestal in the -midst of a sculptured basin, and from a partially reversed urn on which -she was leaning, a clear stream of water dashed down from one mossy -fragment to another, till it lost itself in the placid pool. - -The figure and face of this nymph, in their classic finish of outline, -formed a striking contrast to the drawing of the Byzantine paintings -within the cloisters, and their juxtaposition in the same enclosure -seemed a presentation of the spirit of a past and present era: the past -so graceful in line, so perfect and airy in conception, so utterly -without spiritual aspiration or life; the present limited in artistic -power, but so earnest, so intense, seeming to struggle and burn, amid -its stiff and restricted boundaries, for the expression of some diviner -phase of humanity. - -Nevertheless, the nymph of the fountain, different in style and -execution as it was, was so fair a creature, that it was thought best, -after the spirit of those days, to purge her from all heathen and -improper histories by baptizing her in the waters of her own fountain, -and bestowing on her the name of the saint to whose convent she was -devoted. The simple sisterhood, little conversant in nice points of -antiquity, regarded her as Saint Agnes dispensing the waters of purity -to her convent; and marvelous and sacred properties were ascribed to -the water, when taken fasting with a sufficient number of prayers and -other religious exercises. All around the neighborhood of this fountain -the ground was one bed of blue and white violets, whose fragrance -filled the air, and which were deemed by the nuns to have come up there -in especial token of the favor with which Saint Agnes regarded the -conversion of this heathen relic to pious and Christian uses. - -This nymph had been an especial favorite of the childhood of Agnes, and -she had always had a pleasure which she could not exactly account for -in gazing upon it. It is seldom that one sees in the antique conception -of the immortals any trace of human feeling. Passionless perfection -and repose seem to be their uniform character. But now and then from -the ruins of Southern Italy fragments have been dug, not only pure in -outline, but invested with a strange pathetic charm, as if the calm, -inviolable circle of divinity had been touched by some sorrowing sense -of that unexplained anguish with which the whole lower creation groans. -One sees this mystery of expression in the face of that strange and -beautiful Psyche which still enchants the Museum of Naples. Something -of this charm of mournful pathos lingered on the beautiful features -of this nymph,--an expression so delicate and shadowy that it seemed -to address itself only to finer natures. It was as if all the silent, -patient woe and discouragement of a dumb antiquity had been congealed -into this memorial. Agnes was often conscious, when a child, of being -saddened by it, and yet drawn towards it with a mysterious attraction. - -About this fountain, under the shadow of bending rose trees and yellow -jessamines, was a circle of garden seats, adopted also from the ruins -of the past. Here a graceful Corinthian capital, with every white -acanthus-leaf perfect, stood in a mat of acanthus-leaves of Nature's -own making, glossy green and sharply cut; and there was a long portion -of a frieze sculptured with graceful dancing figures; and in another -place a fragment of a fluted column, with lycopodium and colosseum vine -hanging from its fissures in graceful draping. On these seats Agnes -had dreamed away many a tranquil hour, making garlands of violets, and -listening to the marvelous legends of old Jocunda. - -In order to understand anything of the true idea of conventual life in -those days, we must consider that books were as yet unknown, except -as literary rarities, and reading and writing were among the rare -accomplishments of the higher classes; and that Italy, from the time -that the great Roman Empire fell and broke into a thousand shivers, -had been subject to a continual series of conflicts and struggles, -which took from life all security. Norman, Dane, Sicilian, Spaniard, -Frenchman, and German mingled and struggled, now up and now down; -and every struggle was attended by the little ceremonies of sacking -towns, burning villages, and routing out entire populations to utter -misery and wretchedness. During these tumultuous ages, those buildings -consecrated by a religion recognized alike by all parties afforded to -misfortune the only inviolable asylum, and to feeble and discouraged -spirits the only home safe from the prospect of reverses. - -If the destiny of woman is a problem that calls for grave attention -even in our enlightened times, and if she is too often a sufferer from -the inevitable movements of society, what must have been her position -and needs in those ruder ages, unless the genius of Christianity had -opened refuges for her weakness, made inviolable by the awful sanctions -of religion? - -What could they do, all these girls and women together, with the -twenty-four long hours of every day, without reading or writing, and -without the care of children? Enough; with their multiplied diurnal -prayer periods, with each its chants and ritual of observances,--with -the preparation for meals, and the clearing away thereafter,--with the -care of the chapel, shrine, sacred gifts, drapery, and ornaments,--with -embroidering altar-cloths and making sacred tapers,--with preparing -conserves of rose leaves and curious spiceries,--with mixing drugs for -the sick,--with all those mutual offices and services to each other -which their relations in one family gave rise to,--and with divers -feminine gossipries and harmless chatterings and cooings, one can -conceive that these dove-cots of the Church presented often some of the -most tranquil scenes of those convulsive and disturbed periods. - -Human nature probably had its varieties there as otherwhere. There were -there the domineering and the weak, the ignorant and the vulgar, and -the patrician and the princess, and though professedly all brought on -the footing of sisterly equality, we are not to suppose any Utopian -degree of perfection among them. The way of pure spirituality was -probably, in the convent as well as out, that strait and narrow one -which there be few to find. There, as elsewhere, the devotee who -sought to progress faster toward heaven than suited the paces of her -fellow-travelers was reckoned a troublesome enthusiast, till she got -far enough in advance to be worshiped as a saint. - -Sister Theresa, the abbess of this convent, was the youngest daughter -in a princely Neapolitan family, who from her cradle had been destined -to the cloister, in order that her brother and sister might inherit -more splendid fortunes and form more splendid connections. She had been -sent to this place too early to have much recollection of any other -mode of life; and when the time came to take the irrevocable step, she -renounced with composure a world she had never known. - -Her brother had endowed her with a _livre des heures_, illuminated -with all the wealth of blue and gold and divers colors which the art -of those times afforded,--a work executed by a pupil of the celebrated -Fra Angelico; and the possession of this treasure was regarded by her -as a far richer inheritance than that princely state of which she knew -nothing. Her neat little cell had a window that looked down on the -sea,--on Capri, with its fantastic grottoes,--on Vesuvius, with its -weird daily and nightly changes. The light that came in from the joint -reflection of sea and sky gave a golden and picturesque coloring to the -simple and bare furniture, and in sunny weather she often sat there, -just as a lizard lies upon a wall, with the simple, warm, delightful -sense of living and being amid scenes of so much beauty. Of the life -that people lived in the outer world, the struggle, the hope, the -fear, the vivid joy, the bitter sorrow, Sister Theresa knew nothing. -She could form no judgment and give no advice founded on any such -experience. - -The only life she knew was a certain ideal one, drawn from the legends -of the saints; and her piety was a calm, pure enthusiasm which had -never been disturbed by a temptation or a struggle. Her rule in the -Convent was even and serene; but those who came to her flock from the -real world, from the trials and temptations of a real experience, were -always enigmas to her, and she could scarcely comprehend or aid them. - -In fact, since in the cloister, as everywhere else, character will -find its level, it was old Jocunda who was the real governess of the -Convent. Jocunda was originally a peasant woman, whose husband had been -drafted to some of the wars of his betters, and she had followed his -fortunes in the camp. In the sack of a fortress, she lost her husband -and four sons, all the children she had, and herself received an injury -which distorted her form, and so she took refuge in the Convent. -Here her energy and _savoir-faire_ rendered her indispensable in -every department. She made the bargains, bought the provisions (being -allowed to sally forth for these purposes), and formed the medium -by which the timid, abstract, defenseless nuns accomplished those -material relations with the world with which the utmost saintliness -cannot afford to dispense. Besides and above all this, Jocunda's wide -experience and endless capabilities of narrative made her an invaluable -resource for enlivening any dull hours that might be upon the hands of -the sisterhood; and all these recommendations, together with a strong -mother-wit and native sense, soon made her so much the leading spirit -in the Convent that Mother Theresa herself might be said to be under -her dominion. - -"So, so," she said to Agnes, when she had closed the gate after -Elsie,--"you never come empty-handed. What lovely oranges!--worth -double any that one can buy of anybody else but your grandmother." - -"Yes, and these flowers I brought to dress the altar." - -"Ah, yes! Saint Agnes has given you a particular grace for that," said -Jocunda. - -"And I have brought a ring for her treasury," said Agnes, taking out -the gift of the Cavalier. - -"Holy Mother! here is something, to be sure!" said Jocunda, catching it -eagerly. "Why, Agnes, this is a diamond,--and as pretty a one as ever -I saw. How it shines!" she added, holding it up. "That's a prince's -present. How did you get it?" - -"I want to tell our mother about it," said Agnes. - -"You do?" said Jocunda. "You'd better tell me. I know fifty times as -much about such things as she." - -"Dear Jocunda, I will tell you, too; but I love Mother Theresa, and I -ought to give it to her first." - -"As you please, then," said Jocunda. "Well, put your flowers here by -the fountain, where the spray will keep them cool, and we will go to -her." - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE DAY AT THE CONVENT - - -The Mother Theresa sat in a sort of withdrawing-room, the roof of which -rose in arches, starred with blue and gold like that of the cloister, -and the sides were frescoed with scenes from the life of the Virgin. -Over every door, and in convenient places between the paintings, texts -of Holy Writ were illuminated in blue and scarlet and gold, with a -richness and fancifulness of outline, as if every sacred letter had -blossomed into a mystical flower. The Abbess herself, with two of -her nuns, was busily embroidering a new altar-cloth, with a lavish -profusion of adornment; and, from time to time, their voices rose in -the musical tones of an ancient Latin hymn. The words were full of that -quaint and mystical pietism with which the fashion of the times clothed -the expression of devotional feeling:-- - - "Jesu, corona virginum, - Quem mater illa concepit, - Quae sola virgo parturit, - Haec vota clemens accipe. - - "Qui pascis inter lilia - Septus choreis virginum, - Sponsus decoris gloria - Sponsisque reddens praemia. - - "Quocunque pergis, virgines - Sequuntur atque laudibus - Post te canentes cursitant - Hymnosque dulces personant."[1] - - [1] "Jesus, crown of virgin spirits, - Whom a virgin mother bore, - Graciously accept our praises - While thy footsteps we adore. - - "Thee among the lilies feeding - Choirs of virgins walk beside, - Bridegroom crowned with glorious beauty - Giving beauty to thy bride. - - "Where thou goest still they follow - Singing, singing as they move, - All those souls forever virgin - Wedded only to thy love." - -This little canticle was, in truth, very different from the hymns -to Venus which used to resound in the temple which the convent had -displaced. The voices which sung were of a deep, plaintive contralto, -much resembling the richness of a tenor, and as they moved in modulated -waves of chanting sound, the effect was soothing and dreamy. Agnes -stopped at the door to listen. - -"Stop, dear Jocunda," she said to the old woman, who was about to push -her way abruptly into the room, "wait till it is over." - -Jocunda, who was quite matter-of-fact in her ideas of religion, made a -little movement of impatience, but was recalled to herself by observing -the devout absorption with which Agnes, with clasped hands and downcast -head, was mentally joining in the hymn with a solemn brightness in her -young face. - -"If she hasn't got a vocation, nobody ever had one," said Jocunda, -mentally. "Deary me, I wish I had more of one myself!" - -When the strain died away, and was succeeded by a conversation on the -respective merits of two kinds of gold embroidering thread, Agnes and -Jocunda entered the apartment. Agnes went forward and kissed the hand -of the Mother reverentially. - -Sister Theresa we have before described as tall, pale, and sad-eyed,--a -moonlight style of person, wanting in all those elements of warm color -and physical solidity which give the impression of a real vital human -existence. The strongest affection she had ever known had been that -which had been excited by the childish beauty and graces of Agnes, and -she folded her in her arms and kissed her forehead with a warmth that -had in it the semblance of maternity. - -"Grandmamma has given me a day to spend with you, dear mother," said -Agnes. - -"Welcome, dear little child!" said Mother Theresa. "Your spiritual home -always stands open to you." - -"I have something to speak to you of in particular, my mother," said -Agnes, blushing deeply. - -"Indeed!" said the Mother Theresa, a slight movement of curiosity -arising in her mind as she signed to the two nuns to leave the -apartment. - -"My mother," said Agnes, "yesterday evening, as grandmamma and I were -sitting at the gate, selling oranges, a young cavalier came up and -bought oranges of me, and he kissed my forehead and asked me to pray -for him, and gave me this ring for the shrine of Saint Agnes." - -"Kissed your forehead!" said Jocunda, "here's a pretty go! it isn't -like you, Agnes, to let him." - -"He did it before I knew," said Agnes. "Grandmamma reproved him, and -then he seemed to repent, and gave this ring for the shrine of Saint -Agnes." - -"And a pretty one it is, too," said Jocunda. "We haven't a prettier in -all our treasury. Not even the great emerald the Queen gave is better -in its way than this." - -"And he asked you to pray for him?" said Mother Theresa. - -"Yes, mother dear; he looked right into my eyes and made me look into -his, and made me promise; and I knew that holy virgins never refused -their prayers to any one that asked, and so I followed their example." - -"I'll warrant me he was only mocking at you for a poor little fool," -said Jocunda; "the gallants of our day don't believe much in prayers." - -"Perhaps so, Jocunda," said Agnes, gravely; "but if that be the case, -he needs prayers all the more." - -"Yes," said Mother Theresa. "Remember the story of the blessed Saint -Dorothea,--how a wicked young nobleman mocked at her, when she was -going to execution, and said, 'Dorothea, Dorothea, I will believe, when -you shall send me down some of the fruits and flowers of Paradise;' and -she, full of faith, said, 'To-day I will send them;' and, wonderful -to tell, that very day, at evening, an angel came to the young man -with a basket of citrons and roses, and said, 'Dorothea sends thee -these, wherefore believe.' See what grace a pure maiden can bring to a -thoughtless young man,--for this young man was converted and became a -champion of the faith." - -"That was in the old times," said Jocunda, skeptically. "I don't -believe setting the lamb to pray for the wolf will do much in our day. -Prithee, child, what manner of man was this gallant?" - -"He was beautiful as an angel," said Agnes, "only it was not a good -beauty. He looked proud and sad, both,--like one who is not at ease in -his heart. Indeed, I feel very sorry for him; his eyes made a kind of -trouble in my mind that reminds me to pray for him often." - -"And I will join my prayers to yours, dear daughter," said the Mother -Theresa; "I long to have you with us, that we may pray together every -day; say, do you think your grandmamma will spare you to us wholly -before long?" - -"Grandmamma will not hear of it yet," said Agnes; "and she loves me -so, it would break her heart, if I should leave her, and she could not -be happy here; but, mother, you have told me we could carry an altar -always in our hearts, and adore in secret. When it is God's will I -should come to you, He will incline her heart." - -"Between you and me, little one," said Jocunda, "I think there will -soon be a third person who will have something to say in the case." - -"Whom do you mean?" said Agnes. - -"A husband," said Jocunda; "I suppose your grandmother has one picked -out for you. You are neither humpbacked nor cross-eyed, that you -shouldn't have one as well as other girls." - -"I don't want one, Jocunda; and I have promised to Saint Agnes to come -here, if she will only get grandmother to consent." - -"Bless you, my daughter!" said Mother Theresa; "only persevere and the -way will be opened." - -"Well, well," said Jocunda, "we'll see. Come, little one, if you -wouldn't have your flowers wilt, we must go back and look after them." - -Reverently kissing the hand of the Abbess, Agnes withdrew with her old -friend, and crossed again to the garden to attend to her flowers. - -"Well now, childie," said Jocunda, "you can sit here and weave your -garlands, while I go and look after the conserves of raisins and -citrons that Sister Cattarina is making. She is stupid at anything but -her prayers, is Cattarina. Our Lady be gracious to me! I think I got -my vocation from Saint Martha, and if it wasn't for me, I don't know -what would become of things in the Convent. Why, since I came here, our -conserves, done up in fig-leaf packages, have had quite a run at Court, -and our gracious Queen herself was good enough to send an order for -a hundred of them last week. I could have laughed to see how puzzled -the Mother Theresa looked; much she knows about conserves! I suppose -she thinks Gabriel brings them straight down from Paradise, done up -in leaves of the tree of life. Old Jocunda knows what goes to their -making up; she's good for something, if she is old and twisted; many a -scrubby old olive bears fat berries," said the old portress, chuckling. - -"Oh, dear Jocunda," said Agnes, "why must you go this minute? I want to -talk with you about so many things!" - -"Bless the sweet child! it does want its old Jocunda, does it?" said -the old woman, in the tone with which one caresses a baby. "Well, well, -it should then! Just wait a minute, till I go and see that our holy -Saint Cattarina hasn't fallen a-praying over the conserving-pan. I'll -be back in a moment." - -So saying, she hobbled off briskly, and Agnes, sitting down on the -fragment sculptured with dancing nymphs, began abstractedly pulling her -flowers towards her, shaking from them the dew of the fountain. - -Unconsciously to herself, as she sat there, her head drooped into -the attitude of the marble nymph, and her sweet features assumed the -same expression of plaintive and dreamy thoughtfulness; her heavy -dark lashes lay on her pure waxen cheeks like the dark fringe of some -tropical flower. Her form, in its drooping outlines, scarcely yet -showed the full development of womanhood, which after-years might -unfold into the ripe fullness of her country-women. Her whole attitude -and manner were those of an exquisitely sensitive and highly organized -being, just struggling into the life of some mysterious new inner -birth,--into the sense of powers of feeling and being hitherto unknown -even to herself. - -"Ah," she softly sighed to herself, "how little I am! how little I can -do! Could I convert one soul! Ah, holy Dorothea, send down the roses of -heaven into his soul, that he also may believe!" - -"Well, my little beauty, you have not finished even one garland," said -the voice of old Jocunda, bustling up behind her. "Praise to Saint -Martha, the conserves are doing well, and so I catch a minute for my -little heart." - -So saying, she sat down with her spindle and flax by Agnes, for an -afternoon gossip. - -"Dear Jocunda, I have heard you tell stories about spirits that haunt -lonesome places. Did you ever hear about any in the gorge?" - -"Why, bless the child, yes,--spirits are always pacing up and down in -lonely places. Father Anselmo told me that; and he had seen a priest -once that had seen that in the Holy Scriptures themselves,--so it must -be true." - -"Well, did you ever hear of their making the most beautiful music?" - -"Haven't I?" said Jocunda,--"to be sure I have,--singing enough to draw -the very heart out of your body,--it's an old trick they have. Why, I -want to know if you never heard about the King of Amalfi's son coming -home from fighting for the Holy Sepulchre? Why, there's rocks not far -out from this very town where the Sirens live; and if the King's son -hadn't had a holy bishop on board, who slept every night with a piece -of the true cross under his pillow, the green ladies would have sung -him straight into perdition. They are very fair-spoken at first, and -sing so that a man gets perfectly drunk with their music, and longs to -fly to them; but they suck him down at last under water, and strangle -him, and that's the end of him." - -"You never told me about this before, Jocunda." - -"Haven't I, child? Well, I will now. You see, this good bishop, he -dreamed three times that they would sail past these rocks, and he was -told to give all the sailors holy wax from an altar-candle to stop -their ears, so that they shouldn't hear the music. Well, the King's son -said he wanted to hear the music, so he wouldn't have his ears stopped; -but he told 'em to tie him to the mast, so that he could hear it, but -not to mind a word he said, if he begged 'em ever so hard to untie him. - -"Well, you see they did it; and the old bishop, he had his ears sealed -up tight, and so did all the men; but the young man stood tied to the -mast, and when they sailed past he was like a demented creature. He -called out that it was his lady who was singing, and he wanted to go to -her,--and his mother, who they all knew was a blessed saint in paradise -years before; and he commanded them to untie him, and pulled and -strained on his cords to get free; but they only tied him the tighter, -and so they got him past,--for, thanks to the holy wax, the sailors -never heard a word, and so they kept their senses. So they all got safe -home; but the young prince was so sick and pining that he had to be -exorcised and prayed for seven times seven days before they could get -the music out of his head." - -"Why," said Agnes, "do those Sirens sing there yet?" - -"Well, that was a hundred years ago. They say the old bishop, he prayed -'em down; for he went out a little after on purpose, and gave 'em a -precious lot of holy water; most likely he got 'em pretty well under, -though my husband's brother says he's heard 'em singing in a small way, -like frogs in springtime; but he gave 'em a pretty wide berth. You -see, these spirits are what's left of old heathen times, when, Lord -bless us! the earth was just as full of 'em as a bit of old cheese -is of mites. Now a Christian body, if they take reasonable care, can -walk quit of 'em; and if they have any haunts in lonesome and doleful -places, if one puts up a cross or a shrine, they know they have to go." - -"I am thinking," said Agnes, "it would be a blessed work to put up some -shrines to Saint Agnes and our good Lord in the gorge, and I'll promise -to keep the lamps burning and the flowers in order." - -"Bless the child!" said Jocunda, "that is a pious and Christian -thought." - -"I have an uncle in Florence who is a father in the holy convent of San -Marco, who paints and works in stone,--not for money, but for the glory -of God; and when he comes this way I will speak to him about it," said -Agnes. "About this time in the spring he always visits us." - -"That's mighty well thought of," said Jocunda. "And now, tell me, -little lamb, have you any idea who this grand cavalier may be that gave -you the ring?" - -"No," said Agnes, pausing a moment over the garland of flowers she was -weaving,--"only Giulietta told me that he was brother to the King. -Giulietta said everybody knew him." - -"I'm not so sure of that," said Jocunda. "Giulietta always thinks she -knows more than she does." - -"Whatever he may be, his worldly state is nothing to me," said Agnes. -"I know him only in my prayers." - -"Ay, ay," muttered the old woman to herself, looking obliquely out of -the corner of her eye at the girl, who was busily sorting her flowers; -"perhaps he will be seeking some other acquaintance." - -"You haven't seen him since?" said Jocunda. - -"Seen him? Why, dear Jocunda, it was only last evening"-- - -"True enough. Well, child, don't think too much of him. Men are -dreadful creatures,--in these times especially; they snap up a pretty -girl as a fox does a chicken, and no questions asked." - -"I don't think he looked wicked, Jocunda; he had a proud, sorrowful -look. I don't know what could make a rich, handsome young man -sorrowful; but I feel in my heart that he is not happy. Mother Theresa -says that those who can do nothing but pray may convert princes without -knowing it." - -"Maybe it is so," said Jocunda, in the same tone in which thrifty -professors of religion often assent to the same sort of truths in our -days. "I've seen a good deal of that sort of cattle in my day; and one -would think, by their actions, that praying souls must be scarce where -they came from." - -Agnes abstractedly stooped and began plucking handfuls of lycopodium, -which was growing green and feathery on one side of the marble frieze -on which she was sitting; in so doing, a fragment of white marble, -which had been overgrown in the luxuriant green, appeared to view. It -was that frequent object in the Italian soil,--a portion of an old -Roman tombstone. Agnes bent over, intent on the mystic "_Dis Manibus_," -in old Roman letters. - -"Lord bless the child! I've seen thousands of them," said Jocunda; -"it's some old heathen's grave, that's been in hell these hundred -years." - -"In hell?" said Agnes, with a distressful accent. - -"Of course," said Jocunda. "Where should they be? Serves 'em right, -too; they were a vile old set." - -"Oh, Jocunda, it's dreadful to think of, that they should have been in -hell all this time." - -"And no nearer the end than when they began," said Jocunda. - -Agnes gave a shivering sigh, and, looking up into the golden sky that -was pouring such floods of splendor through the orange trees and -jasmines, thought, How could it be that the world could possibly be -going on so sweet and fair over such an abyss? - -"Oh, Jocunda!" she said, "it does seem too dreadful to believe! How -could they help being heathen,--being born so,--and never hearing of -the true Church?" - -"Sure enough," said Jocunda, spinning away energetically, "but that's -no business of mine; my business is to save _my_ soul, and that's what -I came here for. The dear saints know I found it dull enough at first, -for I'd been used to jaunting round with my old man and the boy; but -what with marketing and preserving, and one thing and another, I get on -better now, praise to Saint Agnes!" - -The large, dark eyes of Agnes were fixed abstractedly on the old woman -as she spoke, slowly dilating, with a sad, mysterious expression, which -sometimes came over them. - -"Ah! how can the saints themselves be happy?" she said. "One might be -willing to wear sackcloth and sleep on the ground, one might suffer -ever so many years and years, if only one might save some of them." - -"Well, it does seem hard," said Jocunda; "but what's the use of -thinking of it? Old Father Anselmo told us in one of his sermons that -the Lord wills that his saints should come to rejoice in the punishment -of all heathens and heretics; and he told us about a great saint once, -who took it into his head to be distressed because one of the old -heathen whose books he was fond of reading had gone to hell,--and he -fasted and prayed, and wouldn't take no for an answer, till he got him -out." - -"He did, then?" said Agnes, clasping her hands in an ecstasy. - -"Yes; but the good Lord told him never to try it again,--and He struck -him dumb, as a kind of hint, you know. Why, Father Anselmo said that -even getting souls out of purgatory was no easy matter. He told us of -one holy nun who spent nine years fasting and praying for the soul of -her prince, who was killed in a duel, and then she saw in a vision -that he was only raised the least little bit out of the fire,--and she -offered up her life as a sacrifice to the Lord to deliver him, but, -after all, when she died he wasn't quite delivered. Such things made -me think that a poor old sinner like me would never get out at all, if -I didn't set about it in earnest,--though it ain't all nuns that save -their souls either. I remember in Pisa I saw a great picture of the -Judgment Day in the Campo Santo, and there were lots of abbesses, and -nuns, and monks, and bishops, too, that the devils were clearing off -into the fire." - -"Oh, Jocunda, how dreadful that fire must be!" - -"Yes," said Jocunda. "Father Anselmo said hell-fire wasn't like any -kind of fire we have here,--made to warm us and cook our food,--but -a kind made especially to torment body and soul, and not made for -anything else. I remember a story he told us about that. You see, there -was an old duchess that lived in a grand old castle,--and a proud, -wicked old thing enough; and her son brought home a handsome young -bride to the castle, and the old duchess was jealous of her,--'cause, -you see, she hated to give up her place in the house, and the old -family jewels, and all the splendid things,--and so one time, when the -poor young thing was all dressed up in a set of the old family lace, -what does the old hag do but set fire to it!" - -"How horrible!" said Agnes. - -"Yes; and when the young thing ran screaming in her agony, the old hag -stopped her and tore off a pearl rosary that she was wearing, for fear -it should be spoiled by the fire." - -"Holy Mother! can such things be possible?" said Agnes. - -"Well, you see, she got her pay for it. That rosary was of famous old -pearls that had been in the family a hundred years; but from that -moment the good Lord struck it with a curse, and filled it white-hot -with hell-fire, so that if anybody held it a few minutes in their hand, -it would burn to the bone. The old sinner made believe that she was -in great affliction for the death of her daughter-in-law, and that -it was all an accident, and the poor young man went raving mad,--but -that awful rosary the old hag couldn't get rid of. She couldn't give -it away,--she couldn't sell it,--but back it would come every night, -and lie right over her heart, all white-hot with the fire that burned -in it. She gave it to a convent, and she sold it to a merchant, but -back it came; and she locked it up in the heaviest chests, and she -buried it down in the lowest vaults, but it always came back in the -night, till she was worn to a skeleton; and at last the old thing died -without confession or sacrament, and went where she belonged. She was -found lying dead in her bed one morning, and the rosary was gone; but -when they came to lay her out, they found the marks of it burned to the -bone into her breast. Father Anselmo used to tell us this, to show us a -little what hell-fire was like." - -"Oh, please, Jocunda, don't let us talk about it any more," said Agnes. - -Old Jocunda, with her tough, vigorous organization and unceremonious -habits of expression, could not conceive the exquisite pain with which -this whole conversation had vibrated on the sensitive being at her -right hand,--that what merely awoke her hard-corded nerves to a dull -vibration of not unpleasant excitement was shivering and tearing the -tenderer chords of poor little Psyche beside her. - -Ages before, beneath those very skies that smiled so sweetly over -her,--amid the bloom of lemon and citron, and the perfume of jasmine -and rose, the gentlest of old Italian souls had dreamed and wondered -what might be the unknown future of the dead, and, learning his lesson -from the glorious skies and gorgeous shores which witnessed how -magnificent a Being had given existence to man, had recorded his hopes -of man's future in the words--_Aut beatus, aut nihil_; but, singular -to tell, the religion which brought with it all human tenderness and -pities,--the hospital for the sick, the refuge for the orphan, the -enfranchisement of the slave,--this religion brought also the news -of the eternal, hopeless, living torture of the great majority of -mankind, past and present. Tender spirits, like those of Dante, carried -this awful mystery as a secret and unexplained anguish, saints wrestled -with God and wept over it; but still the awful fact remained, spite of -Church and sacrament, that the gospel was in effect, to the majority of -the human race, not the glad tidings of salvation, but the sentence of -unmitigable doom. - -The present traveler in Italy sees with disgust the dim and faded -frescoes in which this doom is portrayed in all its varied refinements -of torture; and the vivid Italian mind ran riot in these lurid fields, -and every monk who wanted to move his audience was in his small way a -Dante. The poet and the artist give only the highest form of the ideas -of their day, and he who cannot read the "Inferno" with firm nerves may -ask what the same representations were likely to have been in the grasp -of coarse and common minds. - -The first teachers of Christianity in Italy read the Gospels by the -light of those fiendish fires which consumed their fellows. Daily made -familiar with the scorching, the searing, the racking, the devilish -ingenuities of torture, they transferred them to the future hell of -the torturers. The sentiment within us which asserts eternal justice -and retribution was stimulated to a kind of madness by that first -baptism of fire and blood, and expanded the simple and grave warnings -of the gospel into a lurid poetry of physical torture. Hence, while -Christianity brought multiplied forms of mercy into the world, it -failed for many centuries to humanize the savage forms of justice; and -rack and wheel, fire and fagot were the modes by which human justice -aspired to a faint imitation of what divine justice was supposed to -extend through eternity. - -But it is remarkable always to observe the power of individual minds -to draw out of the popular religious ideas of their country only those -elements which suit themselves, and to drop others from their thought. -As a bee can extract pure honey from the blossoms of some plants whose -leaves are poisonous, so some souls can nourish themselves only with -the holier and more ethereal parts of popular belief. - -Agnes had hitherto dwelt only on the cheering and the joyous features -of her faith; her mind loved to muse on the legends of saints and -angels and the glories of paradise, which, with a secret buoyancy, -she hoped to be the lot of every one she saw. The mind of the Mother -Theresa was of the same elevated cast, and the terrors on which Jocunda -dwelt with such homely force of language seldom made a part of her -instructions. - -Agnes tried to dismiss these gloomy images from her mind, and, after -arranging her garlands, went to decorate the shrine and altar,--a -cheerful labor of love, in which she delighted. - -To the mind of the really spiritual Christian of those ages the air of -this lower world was not as it is to us, in spite of our nominal faith -in the Bible, a blank, empty space from which all spiritual sympathy -and life have fled, but, like the atmosphere with which Raphael has -surrounded the Sistine Madonna, it was full of sympathizing faces, a -great "cloud of witnesses." The holy dead were not gone from earth; -the Church visible and invisible were in close, loving, and constant -sympathy,--still loving, praying, and watching together, though with a -veil between. - -It was at first with no idolatrous intention that the prayers of the -holy dead were invoked in acts of worship. Their prayers were asked -simply because they were felt to be as really present with their former -friends and as truly sympathetic as if no veil of silence had fallen -between. In time this simple belief had its intemperate and idolatrous -exaggerations,--the Italian soil always seeming to have a fiery -and volcanic forcing power, by which religious ideas overblossomed -themselves, and grew wild and ragged with too much enthusiasm; and, -as so often happens with friends on earth, these too much loved -and revered invisible friends became eclipsing screens instead of -transmitting mediums of God's light to the soul. - -Yet we can see in the hymns of Savonarola, who perfectly represented -the attitude of the highest Christian of those times, how perfect -might be the love and veneration for departed saints without lapsing -into idolatry, and with what an atmosphere of warmth and glory the -true belief of the unity of the Church, visible and invisible, could -inspire an elevated soul amid the discouragements of an unbelieving and -gainsaying world. - -Our little Agnes, therefore, when she had spread all her garlands out, -seemed really to feel as if the girlish figure that smiled in sacred -white from the altar-piece was a dear friend who smiled upon her, and -was watching to lead her up the path to heaven. - -Pleasantly passed the hours of that day to the girl, and when at -evening old Elsie called for her, she wondered that the day had gone so -fast. - -Old Elsie returned with no inconsiderable triumph from her stand. The -cavalier had been several times during the day past her stall, and -once, stopping in a careless way to buy fruit, commented on the absence -of her young charge. This gave Elsie the highest possible idea of her -own sagacity and shrewdness, and of the promptitude with which she -had taken her measures, so that she was in as good spirits as people -commonly are who think they have performed some stroke of generalship. - -As the old woman and young girl emerged from the dark-vaulted passage -that led them down through the rocks on which the convent stood to the -sea at its base, the light of a most glorious sunset burst upon them, -in all those strange and magical mysteries of light which any one who -has walked that beach of Sorrento at evening will never forget. - -Agnes ran along the shore, and amused herself with picking up little -morsels of red and black coral, and those fragments of mosaic -pavements, blue, red, and green, which the sea is never tired of -casting up from the thousands of ancient temples and palaces which have -gone to wreck all around these shores. - -As she was busy doing this, she suddenly heard the voice of Giulietta -behind her. - -"So ho, Agnes! where have you been all day?" - -"At the Convent," said Agnes, raising herself from her work, and -smiling at Giulietta, in her frank, open way. - -"Oh, then you really did take the ring to Saint Agnes?" - -"To be sure I did," said Agnes. - -"Simple child!" said Giulietta, laughing; "that wasn't what he meant -you to do with it. He meant it for you,--only your grandmother was by. -You never will have any lovers, if she keeps you so tight." - -"I can do without," said Agnes. - -"I could tell you something about this one," said Giulietta. - -"You did tell me something yesterday," said Agnes. - -"But I could tell you some more. I know he wants to see you again." - -"What for?" said Agnes. - -"Simpleton, he's in love with you. You never had a lover; it's time you -had." - -"I don't want one, Giulietta. I hope I never shall see him again." - -"Oh, nonsense, Agnes! Why, what a girl you are! Why, before I was as -old as you, I had half-a-dozen lovers." - -"Agnes," said the sharp voice of Elsie, coming up from behind, "don't -run on ahead of me again; and you, Mistress Baggage, let my child -alone." - -"Who's touching your child?" said Giulietta, scornfully. "Can't a body -say a civil word to her?" - -"I know what you would be after," said Elsie, "filling her head with -talk of all the wild, loose gallants; but she is for no such market, I -promise you! Come, Agnes." - -So saying, old Elsie drew Agnes rapidly along with her, leaving -Giulietta rolling her great black eyes after them with an air of -infinite contempt. - -"The old kite!" she said; "I declare he shall get speech of the little -dove, if only to spite her. Let her try her best, and see if we don't -get round her before she knows it. Pietro says his master is certainly -wild after her, and I have promised to help him." - -Meanwhile, just as old Elsie and Agnes were turning into the orange -orchard which led into the Gorge of Sorrento, they met the cavalier of -the evening before. - -He stopped, and, removing his cap, saluted them with as much deference -as if they had been princesses. Old Elsie frowned, and Agnes blushed -deeply; both hurried forward. Looking back, the old woman saw that he -was walking slowly behind them, evidently watching them closely, yet -not in a way sufficiently obtrusive to warrant an open rebuff. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE CAVALIER - - -Nothing can be more striking, in common Italian life, than the contrast -between out-doors and in-doors. Without, all is fragrant and radiant; -within, mouldy, dark, and damp. Except in the well-kept palaces of -the great, houses in Italy are more like dens than habitations, and a -sight of them is a sufficient reason to the mind of any inquirer, why -their vivacious and handsome inhabitants spend their life principally -in the open air. Nothing could be more perfectly paradisiacal than -this evening at Sorrento. The sun had sunk, but left the air full -of diffused radiance, which trembled and vibrated over the thousand -many-colored waves of the sea. The moon was riding in a broad zone of -purple, low in the horizon, her silver forehead somewhat flushed in the -general rosiness that seemed to penetrate and suffuse every object. -The fishermen, who were drawing in their nets, gayly singing, seemed -to be floating on a violet-and-gold-colored flooring that broke into -a thousand gems at every dash of the oar or motion of the boat. The -old stone statue of Saint Antonio looked down in the rosy air, itself -tinged and brightened by the magical colors which floated round it. -And the girls and men of Sorrento gathered in gossiping knots on the -old Roman bridge that spanned the gorge, looked idly down into its -dusky shadows, talking the while, and playing the time-honored game of -flirtation which has gone on in all climes and languages since man and -woman began. - -Conspicuous among them all was Giulietta, her blue-black hair recently -braided and polished to a glossy radiance, and all her costume arranged -to show her comely proportions to the best advantage,--her great pearl -ear-rings shaking as she tossed her head, and showing the flash of -the emerald in the middle of them. An Italian peasant-woman may trust -Providence for her gown, but ear-rings she attends to herself,--for -what is life without them? The great pearl ear-rings of the Sorrento -women are accumulated, pearl by pearl, as the price of years of labor. -Giulietta, however, had come into the world, so to speak, with a gold -spoon in her mouth,--since her grandmother, a thriving, stirring, -energetic body, had got together a pair of ear-rings of unmatched size, -which had descended as heirlooms to her, leaving her nothing to do but -display them, which she did with the freest good-will. At present she -was busily occupied in coquetting with a tall and jauntily-dressed -fellow, wearing a plumed hat and a red sash, who seemed to be -mesmerized by the power of her charms, his large dark eyes following -every movement, as she now talked with him gayly and freely, and now -pretended errands to this and that and the other person on the bridge, -stationing herself here and there, that she might have the pleasure of -seeing herself followed. - -"Giulietta," at last said the young man, earnestly, when he found her -accidentally standing alone by the parapet, "I must be going to-morrow." - -"Well, what is that to me?" said Giulietta, looking wickedly from under -her eyelashes. - -"Cruel girl! you know"-- - -"Nonsense, Pietro! I don't know anything about you;" but as Giulietta -said this, her great, soft, dark eyes looked out furtively, and said -just the contrary. - -"You will go with me?" - -"Did I ever hear anything like it? One can't be civil to a fellow -but he asks her to go to the world's end. Pray, how far is it to your -dreadful old den?" - -"Only two days' journey, Giulietta." - -"Two days!" - -"Yes, my life; and you shall ride." - -"Thank you, sir,--I wasn't thinking of walking. But seriously, Pietro, -I am afraid it's no place for an honest girl to be in." - -"There are lots of honest women there,--all our men have wives; and our -captain has put his eye on one, too, or I'm mistaken." - -"What! little Agnes?" said Giulietta. "He will be bright that gets her. -That old dragon of a grandmother is as tight to her as her skin." - -"Our captain is used to helping himself," said Pietro. "We might carry -them both off some night, and no one the wiser; but he seems to want to -win the girl to come to him of her own accord. At any rate, we are to -be sent back to the mountains while he lingers a day or two more round -here." - -"I declare, Pietro, I think you all little better than Turks or -heathens, to talk in that way about carrying off women; and what if one -should be sick and die among you? What is to become of one's soul, I -wonder?" - -"Pshaw! don't we have priests? Why, Giulietta, we are all very pious, -and never think of going out without saying our prayers. The Madonna is -a kind Mother, and will wink very hard on the sins of such good sons as -we are. There isn't a place in all Italy where she is kept better in -candles, and in rings and bracelets, and everything a woman could want. -We never come home without bringing her something; and then we have -lots left to dress all our women like princesses; and they have nothing -to do from morning till night but play the lady. Come now?" - -At the moment this conversation was going on in the balmy, seductive -evening air at the bridge, another was transpiring in the Albergo della -Torre, one of those dark, musty dens of which we have been speaking. -In a damp, dirty chamber, whose brick floor seemed to have been -unsuspicious of even the existence of brooms for centuries, was sitting -the cavalier whom we have so often named in connection with Agnes. His -easy, high-bred air, his graceful, flexible form and handsome face -formed a singular contrast to the dark and mouldy apartment, at whose -single unglazed window he was sitting. The sight of this splendid man -gave an impression of strangeness, in the general bareness, much as if -some marvelous jewel had been unaccountably found lying on that dusty -brick floor. - -He sat deep in thought, with his elbow resting on a rickety table, his -large, piercing dark eyes seeming intently to study the pavement. - -The door opened, and a gray-headed old man entered, who approached him -respectfully. - -"Well, Paolo?" said the cavalier, suddenly starting. - -"My Lord, the men are all going back to-night." - -"Let them go, then," said the cavalier, with an impatient movement. "I -can follow in a day or two." - -"Ah, my Lord, if I might make so bold, why should you expose your -person by staying longer? You may be recognized and"-- - -"No danger," said the other, hastily. - -"My Lord, you must forgive me, but I promised my dear lady, your -mother, on her death-bed"-- - -"To be a constant plague to me," said the cavalier, with a vexed smile -and an impatient movement; "but speak on, Paolo,--for when you once get -anything on your mind, one may as well hear it first as last." - -"Well, then, my Lord, this girl,--I have made inquiries, and every one -reports her most modest and pious,--the only grandchild of a poor old -woman. Is it worthy of a great lord of an ancient house to bring her to -shame?" - -"Who thinks of bringing her to shame? 'Lord of an ancient house!'" -added the cavalier, laughing bitterly,--"a landless beggar, cast out of -everything,--titles, estates, all! Am I, then, fallen so low that my -wooing would disgrace a peasant-girl?" - -"My Lord, you cannot mean to woo a peasant-girl in any other way than -one that would disgrace her,--one of the House of Sarelli, that goes -back to the days of the old Roman Empire!" - -"And what of the 'House of Sarelli that goes back to the days of the -old Roman Empire'? It is lying like weeds' roots uppermost in the -burning sun. What is left to me but the mountains and my sword? No, I -tell you, Paolo, Agostino Sarelli, cavalier of fortune, is not thinking -of bringing disgrace on a pious and modest maiden, unless it would -disgrace her to be his wife." - -"Now may the saints above help us! Why, my Lord, our house in days past -has been allied to royal blood. I could tell you how Joachim VI."-- - -"Come, come, my good Paolo, spare me one of your chapters of genealogy. -The fact is, my old boy, the world is all topsy-turvy, and the bottom -is the top, and it isn't much matter what comes next. Here are shoals -of noble families uprooted and lying round like those aloes that the -gardener used to throw over the wall in springtime; and there is that -great boar of a Caesar Borgia turned in to batten and riot over our -pleasant places." - -"Oh, my Lord," said the old serving-man, with a distressful movement, -"we have fallen on evil times, to be sure, and they say his Holiness -has excommunicated us. Anselmo heard that in Naples yesterday." - -"Excommunicated!" said the young man,--every feature of his fine face, -and every nerve of his graceful form seeming to quiver with the effort -to express supreme contempt. "Excommunicated! I should hope so! One -would hope through Our Lady's grace to act so that Alexander, and his -adulterous, incestuous, filthy, false-swearing, perjured, murderous -crew, would excommunicate us! In these times, one's only hope of -paradise lies in being excommunicated." - -"Oh, my dear master," said the old man, falling on his knees, "what is -to become of us? That I should live to hear you talk like an infidel -and unbeliever!" - -"Why, hear you, poor old fool! Did you never hear in Dante of the Popes -that are burning in hell? Wasn't Dante a Christian, I beg to know?" - -"Oh, my Lord, my Lord! a religion got out of poetry, books, and -romances won't do to die by. We have no business with the affairs of -the Head of the Church,--it's the Lord's appointment. We have only to -shut our eyes and obey. It may all do well enough to talk so when you -are young and fresh; but when sickness and death come, then we _must_ -have religion,--and if we have gone out of the only true Roman Catholic -Apostolic Church, what becomes of our souls? Ah, I misdoubted about -your taking so much to poetry, though my poor mistress was so proud of -it; but these poets are all heretics, my Lord,--that's my firm belief. -But, my Lord, if you do go to hell, I'm going there with you; I'm sure -I never could show my face among the saints, and you not there." - -"Well, come, then, my poor Paolo," said the cavalier, stretching out -his hand to his serving-man, "don't take it to heart so. Many a better -man than I has been excommunicated and cursed from toe to crown, and -been never a whit the worse for it. There's Jerome Savonarola there in -Florence--a most holy man, they say, who has had revelations straight -from heaven--has been excommunicated; but he preaches and gives the -sacraments all the same, and nobody minds it." - -"Well, it's all a maze to me," said the old serving-man, shaking his -white head. "I can't see into it. I don't dare to open my eyes for fear -I should get to be a heretic; it seems to me that everything is getting -mixed up together. But one must hold on to one's religion; because, -after we have lost everything in this world, it would be too bad to -burn in hell forever at the end of that." - -"Why, Paolo, I am a good Christian. I believe, with all my heart, in -the Christian religion, like the fellow in Boccaccio,--because I think -it must be from God, or else the Popes and Cardinals would have had it -out of the world long ago. Nothing but the Lord Himself could have kept -it against them." - -"There you are, my dear master, with your romances. Well, well, well! I -don't know how it'll end. I say my prayers, and try not to inquire into -what's too high for me. But now, dear master, will you stay lingering -after this girl till some of our enemies hear where you are and pounce -down upon us? Besides, the troop are never so well affected when you -are away; there are quarrels and divisions." - -"Well, well," said the cavalier, with an impatient movement,--"one day -longer. I must get a chance to speak with her once more. I must see -her." - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE ARTIST MONK - - -On the evening when Agnes and her grandmother returned from the -Convent, as they were standing after supper looking over the garden -parapet into the gorge, their attention was caught by a man in an -ecclesiastical habit, slowly climbing the rocky pathway towards them. - -"Isn't that Brother Antonio?" said Dame Elsie, leaning forward to -observe more narrowly. "Yes, to be sure it is!" - -"Oh, how glad I am!" exclaimed Agnes, springing up with vivacity, and -looking eagerly down the path by which the stranger was approaching. - -A few moments more of clambering, and the stranger met the two women at -the gate with a gesture of benediction. - -He was apparently a little past the middle point of life, and entering -on its shady afternoon. He was tall and well proportioned, and his -features had the spare delicacy of the Italian outline. The round brow, -fully developed in all the perceptive and aesthetic regions,--the keen -eye, shadowed by long, dark lashes,--the thin, flexible lips,--the -sunken cheek, where, on the slightest emotion, there fluttered a -brilliant flush of color,--all were signs telling of the enthusiast in -whom the nervous and spiritual predominated over the animal. - -At times, his eye had a dilating brightness, as if from the flickering -of some inward fire which was slowly consuming the mortal part, and its -expression was brilliant even to the verge of insanity. - -His dress was the simple, coarse, white stuff-gown of the Dominican -friars, over which he wore a darker traveling-garment of coarse cloth, -with a hood, from whose deep shadows his bright mysterious eyes looked -like jewels from a cavern. At his side dangled a great rosary and cross -of black wood, and under his arm he carried a portfolio secured with a -leathern strap, which seemed stuffed to bursting with papers. - -Father Antonio, whom we have thus introduced to the reader, was an -itinerant preaching monk from the Convent of San Marco in Florence, on -a pastoral and artistic tour through Italy. - -Convents in the Middle Ages were the retreats of multitudes of natures -who did not wish to live in a state of perpetual warfare and offense, -and all the elegant arts flourished under their protecting shadows. -Ornamental gardening, pharmacy, drawing, painting, carving in wood, -illumination, and calligraphy were not unfrequent occupations of the -holy fathers, and the convent has given to the illustrious roll of -Italian Art some of its most brilliant names. No institution in modern -Europe had a more established reputation in all these respects than the -Convent of San Marco in Florence. In its best days, it was as near an -approach to an ideal community, associated to unite religion, beauty, -and utility, as ever has existed on earth. It was a retreat from the -commonplace prose of life into an atmosphere at once devotional and -poetic; and prayers and sacred hymns consecrated the elegant labors of -the chisel and the pencil, no less than the more homely ones of the -still and the crucible. San Marco, far from being that kind of sluggish -lagoon often imagined in conventual life, was rather a sheltered hotbed -of ideas, fervid with intellectual and moral energy, and before the -age in every radical movement. At this period, Savonarola, the poet -and prophet of the Italian religious world of his day, was superior -of this convent, pouring through all the members of the order the fire -of his own impassioned nature, and seeking to lead them back to the -fervors of more primitive and evangelical ages, and in the reaction of -a worldly and corrupt Church was beginning to feel the power of that -current which at last drowned his eloquent voice in the cold waters of -martyrdom. Savonarola was an Italian Luther,--differing from the great -Northern Reformer as the more ethereally strung and nervous Italian -differs from the bluff and burly German; and like Luther, he became -in his time the centre of every living thing in society about him. He -inspired the pencils of artists, guided the counsels of statesmen, and, -a poet himself, was an inspiration to poets. Everywhere in Italy the -monks of his order were traveling, restoring the shrines, preaching -against the voluptuous and unworthy pictures with which sensual artists -had desecrated the churches, and calling the people back by their -exhortations to the purity of primitive Christianity. - -Father Antonio was a younger brother of Elsie, and had early become -a member of the San Marco, enthusiastic not less in religion than in -Art. His intercourse with his sister had few points of sympathy, Elsie -being as decided a utilitarian as any old Yankee female born in the -granite hills of New Hampshire, and pursuing with a hard and sharp -energy her narrow plan of life for Agnes. She regarded her brother as -a very properly religious person, considering his calling, but was a -little bored with his exuberant devotion, and absolutely indifferent -to his artistic enthusiasm. Agnes, on the contrary, had from a child -attached herself to her uncle with all the energy of a sympathetic -nature, and his yearly visits had been looked forward to on her part -with intense expectation. To him she could say a thousand things which -she instinctively concealed from her grandmother; and Elsie was well -pleased with the confidence, because it relieved her a little from -the vigilant guardianship that she otherwise held over the girl. When -Father Antonio was near, she had leisure now and then for a little -private gossip of her own, without the constant care of supervising -Agnes. - -"Dear uncle, how glad I am to see you once more!" was the eager -salutation with which the young girl received the monk, as he gained -the little garden. "And you have brought your pictures; oh, I know you -have so many pretty things to show me!" - -"Well, well, child," said Elsie, "don't begin upon that now. A little -talk of bread and cheese will be more in point. Come in, brother, and -wash your feet, and let me beat the dust out of your cloak, and give -you something to stay Nature; for you must be fasting." - -"Thank you, sister," said the monk; "and as for you, pretty one, never -mind what she says. Uncle Antonio will show his little Agnes everything -by-and-by. A good little thing it is, sister." - -"Yes, yes,--good enough,--and too good," said Elsie, bustling about; -"roses can't help having thorns, I suppose." - -"Only our ever-blessed Rose of Sharon, the dear mystical Rose of -Paradise, can boast of having no thorns," said the monk, bowing and -crossing himself devoutly. - -Agnes clasped her hands on her bosom and bowed also, while Elsie -stopped with her knife in the middle of a loaf of black bread, and -crossed herself with somewhat of impatience,--like a worldly-minded -person of our day, who is interrupted in the midst of an observation by -a grace. - -After the rites of hospitality had been duly observed, the old dame -seated herself contentedly in her door with her distaff, resigned Agnes -to the safe guardianship of her uncle, and had a feeling of security -in seeing them sitting together on the parapet of the garden, with the -portfolio spread out between them,--the warm twilight glow of the -evening sky lighting up their figures as they bent in ardent interest -over its contents. The portfolio showed a fluttering collection of -sketches,--fruits, flowers, animals, insects, faces, figures, shrines, -buildings, trees,--all, in short, that might strike the mind of a man -to whose eye nothing on the face of the earth is without beauty and -significance. - -"Oh, how beautiful!" said the girl, taking up one sketch, in which a -bunch of rosy cyclamen was painted rising out of a bed of moss. - -"Ah, that indeed, my dear!" said the artist. "Would you had seen the -place where I painted it! I stopped there to recite my prayers one -morning; 'twas by the side of a beautiful cascade, and all the ground -was covered with these lovely cyclamens, and the air was musky with -their fragrance. Ah, the bright rose-colored leaves! I can get no color -like them, unless some angel would bring me some from those sunset -clouds yonder." - -"And oh, dear uncle, what lovely primroses!" pursued Agnes, taking up -another paper. - -"Yes, child; but you should have seen them when I was coming down the -south side of the Apennines; these were everywhere so pale and sweet, -they seemed like the humility of our Most Blessed Mother in her lowly -mortal state. I am minded to make a border of primroses to the leaf in -the Breviary where is the 'Hail, Mary!'--for it seems as if that flower -doth ever say, 'Behold the handmaid of the Lord!'" - -"And what will you do with the cyclamen, uncle? does not that mean -something?" - -"Yes, daughter," replied the monk, readily entering into that -symbolical strain which permeated all the heart and mind of the -religious of his day, "I can see a meaning in it. For you see that the -cyclamen puts forth its leaves in early spring deeply engraven with -mystical characters, and loves cool shadows, and moist, dark places, -but comes at length to wear a royal crown of crimson; and it seems to -me like the saints who dwell in convents and other prayerful places, -and have the word of God graven in their hearts in youth, till these -blossom into fervent love, and they are crowned with royal graces." - -"Ah!" sighed Agnes, "how beautiful and how blessed to be among such!" - -"Thou sayest well, dear child. Blessed are the flowers of God that grow -in cool solitudes, and have never been profaned by the hot sun and dust -of this world!" - -"I should like to be such a one," said Agnes. "I often think, when I -visit the sisters at the Convent, that I long to be one of them." - -"A pretty story!" said Dame Elsie, who had heard the last words, "go -into a convent and leave your poor grandmother all alone, when she has -toiled night and day for so many years to get a dowry for you and find -you a worthy husband!" - -"I don't want any husband in this world, grandmamma," said Agnes. - -"What talk is this? Not want a good husband to take care of you when -your poor old grandmother is gone? Who will provide for you?" - -"He who took care of the blessed Saint Agnes, grandmamma." - -"Saint Agnes, to be sure! That was a great many years ago, and times -have altered since then; in these days girls must have husbands. Isn't -it so, Brother Antonio?" - -"But if the darling hath a vocation?" said the artist, mildly. - -"Vocation! I'll see to that! She sha'n't have a vocation! Suppose I'm -going to delve, and toil, and spin, and wear myself to the bone, and -have her slip through my fingers at last with a vocation? No, indeed!" - -"Indeed, dear grandmother, don't be angry!" said Agnes. "I will do just -as you say,--only I don't want a husband." - -"Well, well, my little heart,--one thing at a time; you shan't have him -till you say yes willingly," said Elsie, in a mollified tone. - -Agnes turned again to the portfolio and busied herself with it, her -eyes dilating as she ran over the sketches. - -"Ah! what pretty, pretty bird is this?" she asked. - -"Knowest thou not that bird, with his little red beak?" said the -artist. "When our dear Lord hung bleeding, and no man pitied him, this -bird, filled with tender love, tried to draw out the nails with his -poor little beak,--so much better were the birds than we hard-hearted -sinners!--hence he hath honor in many pictures. See here,--I shall put -him into the office of the Sacred Heart, in a little nest curiously -built in a running vine of passion-flower. See here, daughter,--I have -a great commission to execute a Breviary for our house, and our holy -Father was pleased to say that the spirit of the blessed Angelico had -in some little humble measure descended on me, and now I am busy day -and night; for not a twig rustles, not a bird flies, nor a flower -blossoms, but I begin to see therein some hint of holy adornment to my -blessed work." - -"Oh, Uncle Antonio, how happy you must be!" said Agnes, her large eyes -filling with tears. - -"Happy!--child, am I not?" said the monk, looking up and crossing -himself. "Holy Mother, am I not? Do I not walk the earth in a dream -of bliss, and see the footsteps of my Most Blessed Lord and his dear -Mother on every rock and hill? I see the flowers rise up in clouds to -adore them. What am I, unworthy sinner, that such grace is granted me? -Often I fall on my face before the humblest flower where my dear Lord -hath written his name, and confess I am unworthy the honor of copying -his sweet handiwork." - -The artist spoke these words with his hands clasped and his fervid eyes -upraised, like a man in an ecstasy; nor can our more prosaic English -give an idea of the fluent naturalness and grace with which such -images melt into that lovely tongue which seems made to be the natural -language of poetry and enthusiasm. - -Agnes looked up to him with humble awe, as to some celestial being; but -there was a sympathetic glow in her face, and she put her hands on her -bosom, as her manner often was when much moved, and, drawing a deep -sigh, said,-- - -"Would that such gifts were mine!" - -"They are thine, sweet one," said the monk. "In Christ's dear kingdom -is no mine or thine, but all that each hath is the property of others. -I never rejoice so much in my art as when I think of the communion of -saints, and that all that our Blessed Lord will work through me is the -property of the humblest soul in his kingdom. When I see one flower -rarer than another, or a bird singing on a twig, I take note of the -same, and say, 'This lovely work of God shall be for some shrine, or -the border of a missal, or the foreground of an altar-piece, and thus -shall his saints be comforted.'" - -"But," said Agnes, fervently, "how little can a poor young maiden do! -Ah, I do so long to offer myself up in some way to the dear Lord, who -gave himself for us, and for his Most Blessed Church!" - -As Agnes spoke these words, her cheek, usually so clear and pale, -became suffused with a tremulous color, and her dark eyes had a deep, -divine expression; a moment after, the color slowly faded, her head -drooped, and her long, dark lashes fell on her cheek, while her hands -were folded on her bosom. The eye of the monk was watching her with an -enkindled glance. - -"Is she not the very presentment of our Blessed Lady in the -Annunciation?" said he to himself. "Surely, this grace is upon her for -this special purpose. My prayers are answered." - -"Daughter," he began, in a gentle tone, "a glorious work has been done -of late in Florence under the preaching of our blessed Superior. Could -you believe it, daughter, in these times of backsliding and rebuke -there have been found painters base enough to paint the pictures of -vile, abandoned women in the character of our Blessed Lady; yea, and -princes have been found wicked enough to buy them and put them up -in churches, so that the people have had the Mother of all Purity -presented to them in the guise of a vile harlot. Is it not dreadful?" - -"How horrible!" said Agnes. - -"Ah, but you should have seen the great procession through Florence, -when all the little children were inspired by the heavenly preaching of -our dear Master. These dear little ones, carrying the blessed cross and -singing the hymns our Master had written for them, went from house to -house and church to church, demanding that everything that was vile and -base should be delivered up to the flames,--and the people, beholding, -thought that the angels had indeed come down, and brought forth all -their loose pictures and vile books, such as Boccaccio's romances and -other defilements, and the children made a splendid bonfire of them in -the Grand Piazza, and so thousands of vile things were consumed and -scattered. And then our blessed Master exhorted the artists to give -their pencils to Christ and his Mother, and to seek for her image among -pious and holy women living a veiled and secluded life, like that our -Lady lived before the blessed Annunciation. 'Think you,' he said, 'that -the blessed Angelico obtained the grace to set forth our Lady in such -heavenly wise by gazing about the streets on mincing women tricked -out in all the world's bravery?--or did he not find her image in holy -solitudes, among modest and prayerful saints?'" - -"Ah," said Agnes, drawing in her breath with an expression of awe, -"what mortal would dare to sit for the image of our Lady!" - -"Dear child, there be women whom the Lord crowns with beauty when they -know it not, and our dear Mother sheds so much of her spirit into their -hearts that it shines out in their faces; and among such must the -painter look. Dear little child, be not ignorant that our Lord hath -shed this great grace on thee. I have received a light that thou art to -be the model for the 'Hail Mary!' in my Breviary." - -"Oh, no, no, no! it cannot be!" said Agnes, covering her face with her -hands. - -"My daughter, thou art very beautiful, and this beauty was given thee -not for thyself, but to be laid like a sweet flower on the altar of thy -Lord. Think how blessed, if, through thee, the faithful be reminded of -the modesty and humility of Mary, so that their prayers become more -fervent,--would it not be a great grace?" - -"Dear uncle," said Agnes, "I am Christ's child. If it be as you -say,--which I did not know,--give me some days to pray and prepare my -soul, that I may offer myself in all humility." - -During this conversation Elsie had left the garden and gone a little -way down the gorge, to have a few moments of gossip with an old crony. -The light of the evening sky had gradually faded away, and the full -moon was pouring a shower of silver upon the orange-trees. As Agnes -sat on the parapet, with the moonlight streaming down on her young, -spiritual face, now tremulous with deep suppressed emotion, the painter -thought he had never seen any human creature that looked nearer to his -conception of a celestial being. - -They both sat awhile in that kind of quietude which often falls between -two who have stirred some deep fountain of emotion. All was so still -around them, that the drip and trickle of the little stream which fell -from the garden wall into the dark abyss of the gorge could well be -heard as it pattered from one rocky point to another, with a slender, -lulling sound. - -Suddenly the reveries of the two were disturbed by the shadow of a -figure which passed into the moonlight and seemed to rise from the -side of the gorge. A man enveloped in a dark cloak with a peaked -hood stepped across the moss-grown garden parapet, stood a moment -irresolute, then the cloak dropped suddenly from him, and the cavalier -stood in the moonlight before Agnes. He bore in his hand a tall stalk -of white lily, with open blossoms and buds and tender fluted green -leaves, such as one sees in a thousand pictures of the Annunciation. -The moonlight fell full upon his face, revealing his haughty yet -beautiful features, agitated by some profound emotion. The monk and the -girl were both too much surprised for a moment to utter a sound; and -when, after an instant, the monk made a half-movement as if to address -him, the cavalier raised his right hand with a sudden authoritative -gesture which silenced him. Then turning toward Agnes, he kneeled, and -kissing the hem of her robe, and laying the lily in her lap, "Holiest -and dearest," he said, "oh, forget not to pray for me!" He rose again -in a moment, and, throwing his cloak around him, sprang over the garden -wall, and was heard rapidly descending into the shadows of the gorge. - -All this passed so quickly that it seemed to both the spectators like -a dream. The splendid man, with his jeweled weapons, his haughty -bearing, and air of easy command, bowing with such solemn humility -before the peasant-girl, reminded the monk of the barbaric princes in -the wonderful legends he had read, who had been drawn by some heavenly -inspiration to come and render themselves up to the teachings of holy -virgins, chosen of the Lord, in divine solitudes. In the poetical -world in which he lived all such marvels were possible. There were a -thousand precedents for them in that devout dreamland, "The Lives of -the Saints." - -"My daughter," he said, after looking vainly down the dark shadows upon -the path of the stranger, "have you ever seen this man before?" - -"Yes, uncle; yesterday evening I saw him for the first time, when -sitting at my stand at the gate of the city. It was at the Ave Maria; -he came up there and asked my prayers, and gave me a diamond ring for -the shrine of Saint Agnes, which I carried to the convent to-day." - -"Behold, my dear daughter, the confirmation of what I have just said -to thee! It is evident that our Lady hath endowed thee with the great -grace of a beauty which draws the soul upward towards the angels, -instead of downward to sensual things, like the beauty of worldly -women. What saith the blessed poet Dante of the beauty of the holy -Beatrice?--that it said to every man who looked on her, '_Aspire!_'[2] -Great is the grace, and thou must give special praise therefor." - - [2] I cannot forbear quoting Mr. Norton's beautiful translation - of this sonnet in the _Atlantic Monthly_ for February, - 1859:-- - - "So gentle and so modest doth appear - My lady when she giveth her salute, - That every tongue becometh trembling mute, - Nor do the eyes to look upon her dare. - And though she hears her praises, she doth go - Benignly clothed with humility, - And like a thing come down she seems to be - From heaven to earth, a miracle to show. - So pleaseth she whoever cometh nigh her, - She gives the heart a sweetness through the eyes - Which none can understand who doth not prove. - And from her lip there seems indeed to move - A spirit sweet and in Love's very guise, - Which goeth saying to the soul, 'Aspire!'" - -"I would," said Agnes, thoughtfully, "that I knew who this stranger -is, and what is his great trouble and need,--his eyes are so full of -sorrow. Giulietta said he was the King's brother, and was called the -Lord Adrian. What sorrow can he have, or what need for the prayers of -a poor maid like me?" - -"Perhaps the Lord hath pierced him with a longing after the celestial -beauty and heavenly purity of paradise, and wounded him with a divine -sorrow, as happened to Saint Francis and to the blessed Saint Dominic," -said the monk. "Beauty is the Lord's arrow, wherewith he pierceth to -the inmost soul, with a divine longing and languishment which find -rest only in him. Hence thou seest the wounds of love in saints are -always painted by us with holy flames ascending from them. Have good -courage, sweet child, and pray with fervor for this youth; for there -be no prayers sweeter before the throne of God than those of spotless -maidens. The Scripture saith, 'My beloved feedeth among the lilies.'" - -At this moment the sharp, decided tramp of Elsie was heard reentering -the garden. - -"Come, Agnes," she said, "it is time for you to begin your prayers, or, -the saints know, I shall not get you to bed till midnight. I suppose -prayers are a good thing," she added, seating herself wearily; "but if -one must have so many of them, one must get about them early. There's -reason in all things." - -Agnes, who had been sitting abstractedly on the parapet, with her head -drooped over the lily-spray, now seemed to collect herself. She rose up -in a grave and thoughtful manner, and, going forward to the shrine of -the Madonna, removed the flowers of the morning, and holding the vase -under the spout of the fountain, all feathered with waving maiden-hair, -filled it with fresh water, the drops falling from it in a thousand -little silver rings in the moonlight. - -"I have a thought," said the monk to himself, drawing from his girdle -a pencil and hastily sketching by the moonlight. What he drew was a -fragile maiden form, sitting with clasped hands on a mossy ruin, gazing -on a spray of white lilies which lay before her. He called it, The -Blessed Virgin pondering the Lily of the Annunciation. - -"Hast thou ever reflected," he said to Agnes, "what that lily might -be like which the angel Gabriel brought to our Lady?--for, trust -me, it was no mortal flower, but grew by the river of life. I have -often meditated thereon, that it was like unto living silver with a -light in itself, like the moon,--even as our Lord's garments in the -Transfiguration, which glistened like the snow. I have cast about in -myself by what device a painter might represent so marvelous a flower." - -"Now, brother Antonio," said Elsie, "if you begin to talk to the child -about such matters, our Lady alone knows when we shall get to bed. I am -sure I'm as good a Christian as anybody; but, as I said, there's reason -in all things, and one cannot always be wondering and inquiring into -heavenly matters,--as to every feather in Saint Michael's wings, and -as to our Lady's girdle and shoestrings and thimble and work-basket; -and when one gets through with our Lady, then one has it all to go -over about her mother, the blessed Saint Anne (may her name be ever -praised!). I mean no disrespect, but I am certain the saints are -reasonable folk and must see that poor folk must live, and, in order to -live, must think of something else now and then besides _them_. That's -my mind, brother." - -"Well, well, sister," said the monk, placidly, "no doubt you are right. -There shall be no quarreling in the Lord's vineyard; every one hath his -manner and place, and you follow the lead of the blessed Saint Martha, -which is holy and honorable." - -"Honorable! I should think it might be!" said Elsie. "I warrant me, if -everything had been left to Saint Mary's doings, our Blessed Lord and -the Twelve Apostles might have gone supperless. But it's Martha gets -all the work, and Mary all the praise." - -"Quite right, quite right," said the monk, abstractedly, while he -stood out in the moonlight busily sketching the fountain. By just such -a fountain, he thought, our Lady might have washed the clothes of -the Blessed Babe. Doubtless there was some such in the court of her -dwelling, all mossy, and with sweet waters forever singing a song of -praise therein. - -Elsie was heard within the house meanwhile making energetic commotion, -rattling pots and pans, and producing decided movements among the -simple furniture of the dwelling, probably with a view to preparing for -the night's repose of the guest. - -Meanwhile Agnes, kneeling before the shrine, was going through with -great feeling and tenderness the various manuals and movements of -nightly devotion which her own religious fervor and the zeal of her -spiritual advisers had enjoined upon her. Christianity, when it -entered Italy, came among a people every act of whose life was colored -and consecrated by symbolic and ritual acts of heathenism. The only -possible way to uproot this was in supplanting it by Christian ritual -and symbolism equally minute and pervading. Besides, in those ages -when the Christian preacher was utterly destitute of all the help -which the press now gives in keeping under the eye of converts the -great inspiring truths of religion, it was one of the first offices -of every saint whose preaching stirred the heart of the people, to -devise symbolic forms, signs, and observances, by which the mobile and -fluid heart of the multitude might crystalize into habits of devout -remembrance. The rosary, the crucifix, the shrine, the banner, the -procession, were catechisms and tracts invented for those who could not -read, wherein the substance of pages was condensed and gave itself to -the eye and the touch. Let us not, from the height of our day, with the -better appliances which a universal press gives us, sneer at the homely -rounds of the ladder by which the first multitudes of the Lord's -followers climbed heavenward. - -If there seemed somewhat mechanical in the number of times which Agnes -repeated the "Hail, Mary!"--in the prescribed number of times she rose -or bowed or crossed herself or laid her forehead in low humility on -the flags of the pavement, it was redeemed by the earnest fervor which -inspired each action. However foreign to the habits of a Northern mind -or education such a mode of prayer may be, these forms to her were -all helpful and significant, her soul was borne by them Godward,--and -often, as she prayed, it seemed to her that she could feel the -dissolving of all earthly things, and the pressing nearer and nearer of -the great cloud of witnesses who ever surround the humblest member of -Christ's mystical body. - - "Sweet loving hearts around her beat, - Sweet helping hands are stirred, - And palpitates the veil between - With breathings almost heard." - -Certain English writers, looking entirely from a worldly and -philosophical standpoint, are utterly at a loss to account for the -power which certain Italian women of obscure birth came to exercise -in the councils of nations merely by the force of a mystical piety; -but the Northern mind of Europe is entirely unfitted to read and -appreciate the psychological religious phenomena of Southern races. The -temperament which in our modern days has been called the mediistic, and -which with us is only exceptional, is more or less a race-peculiarity -of Southern climates, and gives that objectiveness to the conception -of spiritual things from which grew up a whole ritual and a whole -world of religious Art. The Southern saints and religious artists -were seers,--men and women of that peculiar fineness and delicacy of -temperament which made them especially apt to receive and project -outward the truths of the spiritual life; they were in that state of -"divine madness" which is favorable to the most intense conception of -the poet and artist, and something of this influence descended through -all the channels of the people. - -When Agnes rose from prayer, she had a serene, exalted expression, -like one who walks with some unseen excellence and meditates on some -untold joy. As she was crossing the court to come towards her uncle, -her eye was attracted by the sparkle of something on the ground, and, -stooping, she picked up a heart-shaped locket, curiously made of a -large amethyst, and fastened with a golden arrow. As she pressed upon -this, the locket opened and disclosed to her view a folded paper. Her -mood at this moment was so calm and elevated that she received the -incident with no start or shiver of the nerves. To her it seemed a -providential token, which would probably bring to her some further -knowledge of this mysterious being who had been so especially confided -to her intercessions. - -Agnes had learned of the Superior of the Convent the art of reading -writing, which would never have been the birthright of the peasant-girl -in her times, and the moon had that dazzling clearness which revealed -every letter. She stood by the parapet, one hand lying in the white -blossoming alyssum which filled its marble crevices, while she read and -seriously pondered the contents of the paper. - -TO AGNES - - Sweet saint, sweet lady, may a sinful soul - Approach thee with an offering of love, - And lay at thy dear feet a weary heart - That loves thee, as it loveth God above? - If blessed Mary may without a stain - Receive the love of sinners most defiled, - If the fair saints that walk with her in white - Refuse not love from earth's most guilty child, - Shouldst thou, sweet lady, then that love deny - Which all-unworthy at thy feet is laid? - Ah, gentlest angel, be not more severe - Than the dear heavens unto a loving prayer! - Howe'er unworthily that prayer be said, - Let thine acceptance be like that on high! - -There might have been times in Agnes's life when the reception of this -note would have astonished and perplexed her; but the whole strain of -thought and conversation this evening had been in exalted and poetical -regions, and the soft stillness of the hour, the wonderful calmness -and clearness of the moonlight, all seemed in unison with the strange -incident that had occurred, and with the still stranger tenor of the -paper. The soft melancholy, half-religious tone of it was in accordance -with the whole undercurrent of her life, and prevented that start of -alarm which any homage of a more worldly form might have excited. -It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that she read it many times -with pauses and intervals of deep thought, and then with a movement -of natural and girlish curiosity examined the rich jewel which had -enclosed it. At last, seeming to collect her thoughts, she folded the -paper and replaced it in its sparkling casket, and, unlocking the door -of the shrine, laid the gem with its enclosure beneath the lily-spray, -as another offering to the Madonna. "Dear Mother," she said, "if indeed -it be so, may he rise from loving me to loving thee and thy dear Son, -who is Lord of all! Amen!" Thus praying, she locked the door and turned -thoughtfully to her repose, leaving the monk pacing up and down in the -moonlit garden. - -Meanwhile the cavalier was standing on the velvet mossy bridge which -spanned the stream at the bottom of the gorge, watching the play of -moonbeams on layer after layer of tremulous silver foliage in the -clefts of the black, rocky walls on either side. The moon rode so -high in the deep violet-colored sky, that her beams came down almost -vertically, making green and translucent the leaves through which they -passed, and throwing strongly marked shadows here and there on the -flower-embroidered moss of the old bridge. There was that solemn, -plaintive stillness in the air which makes the least sound--the hum -of an insect's wing, the cracking of a twig, the patter of falling -water--so distinct and impressive. - -It needs not to be explained how the cavalier, following the steps of -Agnes and her grandmother at a distance, had threaded the path by which -they ascended to their little sheltered nook,--how he had lingered -within hearing of Agnes's voice, and, moving among the surrounding -rocks and trees, and drawing nearer and nearer as evening shadows drew -on, had listened to the conversation, hoping that some unexpected -chance might gain him a moment's speech with his enchantress. - -The reader will have gathered from the preceding chapter that the -conception which Agnes had formed as to the real position of her -admirer from the reports of Giulietta was false, and that in reality -he was not Lord Adrian, the brother of the King, but an outcast and -landless representative of one branch of an ancient and noble Roman -family, whose estates had been confiscated and whose relations had -been murdered, to satisfy the boundless rapacity of Caesar Borgia, the -infamous favorite of the notorious Alexander VI. - -The natural temperament of Agostino Sarelli had been rather that of the -poet and artist than of the warrior. In the beautiful gardens of his -ancestral home it had been his delight to muse over the pages of Dante; -to sing to the lute, and to write, in the facile flowing rhyme of his -native Italian, the fancies of the dreamland of his youth. - -He was the younger brother of the family,--the favorite son and -companion of his mother, who, being of a tender and religious nature, -had brought him up in habits of the most implicit reverence and -devotion for the institutions of his fathers. - -The storm which swept over his house, and blasted all his worldly -prospects, blasted, too, and withered all those religious hopes and -beliefs by which alone sensitive and affectionate natures can be healed -of the wounds of adversity without leaving distortion or scar. For his -house had been overthrown, his elder brother cruelly and treacherously -murdered, himself and his retainers robbed and cast out, by a man -who had the entire sanction and support of the Head of the Christian -Church, the Vicar of Christ on Earth. So said the current belief of his -times,--the faith in which his sainted mother died; and the difficulty -with which a man breaks away from such ties is in exact proportion to -the refinement and elevation of his nature. - -In the mind of our young nobleman there was a double current. He was a -Roman, and the traditions of his house went back to the time of Mutius -Scaevola; and his old nurse had often told him that grand story of how -the young hero stood with his right hand in the fire rather than betray -his honor. If the legends of Rome's ancient heroes cause the pulses of -colder climes and alien races to throb with sympathetic heroism, what -must their power be to one who says, "These were my fathers"? Agostino -read Plutarch, and thought, "I, too, am a Roman!" and then he looked -on the power that held sway over the Tarpeian Rock and the halls of -the old "Sanctus Senatus," and asked himself, "By what right does it -hold these?" He knew full well that in the popular belief all those -hardy and virtuous old Romans whose deeds of heroism so transported him -were burning in hell for the crime of having been born before Christ; -and he asked himself, as he looked on the horrible and unnatural -luxury and vice which defiled the Papal chair and ran riot through -every ecclesiastical order, whether such men, without faith, without -conscience, and without even decency, were indeed the only authorized -successors of Christ and his Apostles? - -To us, of course, from our modern standpoint, the question has an -easy solution,--but not so in those days, when the Christianity of the -known world was in the Romish church, and when the choice seemed to be -between that and infidelity. Not yet had Luther flared aloft the bold, -cheery torch which showed the faithful how to disentangle Christianity -from Ecclesiasticism. Luther in those days was a star lying low in the -gray horizon of a yet unawakened dawn. - -All through Italy at this time there was the restless throbbing and -pulsating, the aimless outreach of the popular heart, which marks -the decline of one cycle of religious faith and calls for some great -awakening and renewal. Savonarola, the priest and prophet of this dumb -desire, was beginning to heave a great heart of conflict towards that -mighty struggle with the vices and immoralities of his time in which he -was yet to sink a martyr; and even now his course was beginning to be -obstructed by the full energy of the whole aroused serpent brood which -hissed and knotted in the holy places of Rome. - -Here, then, was our Agostino, with a nature intensely fervent and -poetic, every fibre of whose soul and nervous system had been from -childhood skillfully woven and intertwined with the ritual and faith -of his fathers, yearning towards the grave of his mother, yearning -towards the legends of saints and angels with which she had lulled his -cradle slumbers and sanctified his childhood's pillow, and yet burning -with the indignation of a whole line of old Roman ancestors against -an injustice and oppression wrought under the full approbation of the -head of that religion. Half his nature was all the while battling -the other half. Would he be Roman, or would he be Christian? All the -Roman in him said "No!" when he thought of submission to the patent -and open injustice and fiendish tyranny which had disinherited him, -slain his kindred, and held its impure reign by torture and by blood. -He looked on the splendid snow-crowned mountains whose old silver -senate engirdles Rome with an eternal and silent majesty of presence, -and he thought how often in ancient times they had been a shelter to -free blood that would not endure oppression; and so gathering to his -banner the crushed and scattered retainers of his father's house, and -offering refuge and protection to multitudes of others whom the crimes -and rapacities of the Borgias had stripped of possessions and means -of support, he fled to a fastness in the mountains between Rome and -Naples, and became an independent chieftain, living by his sword. - -The rapacity, cruelty, and misgovernment of the various regular -authorities of Italy at this time made brigandage a respectable and -honored institution in the eyes of the people, though it was ostensibly -banned both by Pope and Prince. Besides, in the multitude of contending -factions which were every day wrangling for supremacy, it soon became -apparent, even to the ruling authorities, that a band of fighting men -under a gallant leader, advantageously posted in the mountains and -understanding all their passes, was a power of no small importance -to be employed on one side or the other; and therefore it happened, -that, though nominally outlawed or excommunicated, they were secretly -protected on both sides, with a view to securing their assistance in -critical turns of affairs. - -Among the common people of the towns and villages their relations were -of the most comfortable kind, their depredations being chiefly confined -to the rich and prosperous, who, as they wrung their wealth out of the -people, were not considered particular objects of compassion when the -same kind of high-handed treatment was extended toward themselves. - -The most spirited and brave of the young peasantry, if they wished to -secure the smiles of the girls of their neighborhood, and win hearts -past redemption, found no surer avenue to favor than in joining the -brigands. The leaders of these bands sometimes piqued themselves on -elegant tastes and accomplishments; and one of them is said to have -sent to the poet Tasso, in his misfortunes and exile, an offer of -honorable asylum and protection in his mountain fortress. - -Agostino Sarelli saw himself, in fact, a powerful chief, and there were -times when the splendid scenery of his mountain fastness, its inspiring -air, its wild eagle-like grandeur, independence, and security, gave -him a proud contentment, and he looked at his sword and loved it as -a bride. But then again there were moods in which he felt all that -yearning and disquiet of soul which the man of wide and tender moral -organization must feel who has had his faith shaken in the religion of -his fathers. To such a man the quarrel with his childhood's faith is a -never-ending anguish; especially is it so with a religion so objective, -so pictorial, and so interwoven with the whole physical and nervous -nature of man, as that which grew up and flowered in modern Italy. - -Agostino was like a man who lives in an eternal struggle of -self-justification,--his reason forever going over and over with -its plea before his regretful and never-satisfied heart, which was -drawn every hour of the day by some chain of memory towards the -faith whose visible administrators he detested with the whole force -of his moral being. When the vesper-bell, with its plaintive call, -rose amid the purple shadows of the olive-silvered mountains,--when -the distant voices of chanting priest and choir reached him solemnly -from afar,--when he looked into a church with its cloudy pictures of -angels, and its window-panes flaming with venerable forms of saints -and martyrs,--it roused a yearning anguish, a pain and conflict, which -all the efforts of his reason could not subdue. How to be a Christian -and yet defy the authorized Head of the Christian Church, or how to -be a Christian and recognize foul men of obscene and rapacious deeds -as Christ's representatives, was the inextricable Gordian knot, which -his sword could not divide. He dared not approach the Sacrament, he -dared not pray, and sometimes he felt wild impulses to tread down in -riotous despair every fragment of a religious belief which seemed to -live in his heart only to torture him. He had heard priests scoff over -the wafer they consecrated,--he had known them to mingle poison for -rivals in the sacramental wine,--and yet God had kept silence and not -struck them dead; and like the Psalmist of old he said, "Verily, I have -cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency. Is there a -God that judgeth in the earth?" - -The first time he saw Agnes bending like a flower in the slanting -evening sunbeams by the old gate of Sorrento, while he stood looking -down the kneeling street and striving to hold his own soul in the -sarcastic calm of utter indifference, he felt himself struck to the -heart by an influence he could not define. The sight of that young -face, with its clear, beautiful lines, and its tender fervor, recalled -a thousand influences of the happiest and purest hours of his life, and -drew him with an attraction he vainly strove to hide under an air of -mocking gallantry. - -When she looked him in the face with such grave, surprised eyes of -innocent confidence, and promised to pray for him, he felt a remorseful -tenderness as if he had profaned a shrine. All that was passionate, -poetic, and romantic in his nature was awakened to blend itself in a -strange mingling of despairing sadness and of tender veneration about -this sweet image of perfect purity and faith. Never does love strike -so deep and immediate a root as in a sorrowful and desolated nature; -there it has nothing to dispute the soil, and soon fills it with its -interlacing fibres. - -In this case it was not merely Agnes that he sighed for, but she stood -to him as the fair symbol of that life-peace, that rest of soul which -he had lost, it seemed to him, forever. - -"Behold this pure, believing child," he said to himself,--"a true -member of that blessed Church to which thou art a rebel! How peacefully -this lamb walketh the old ways trodden by saints and martyrs, while -thou art an infidel and unbeliever!" And then a stern voice within him -answered, "What then? Is the Holy Ghost indeed alone dispensed through -the medium of Alexander and his scarlet crew of cardinals? Hath the -power to bind and loose in Christ's Church been indeed given to whoever -can buy it with the wages of robbery and oppression? Why does every -prayer and pious word of the faithful reproach me? Why is God silent? -Or is there any God? Oh, Agnes, Agnes! dear lily! fair lamb! lead a -sinner into the green pastures where thou restest!" - -So wrestled the strong nature, tempest-tossed in its strength,--so -slept the trustful, blessed in its trust,--then in Italy, as now in all -lands. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE INTERVIEW - - -The dreams of Agnes, on the night after her conversation with the monk -and her singular momentary interview with the cavalier, were a strange -mixture of images, indicating the peculiarities of her education and -habits of daily thought. - -She dreamed that she was sitting alone in the moonlight, and heard some -one rustling in the distant foliage of the orange groves, and from -them came a young man dressed in white of a dazzling clearness like -sunlight; large pearly wings fell from his shoulders and seemed to -shimmer with a phosphoric radiance; his forehead was broad and grave, -and above it floated a thin, tremulous tongue of flame; his eyes had -that deep, mysterious gravity which is so well expressed in all the -Florentine paintings of celestial beings; and yet, singularly enough, -this white-robed, glorified form seemed to have the features and -lineaments of the mysterious cavalier of the evening before,--the same -deep, mournful dark eyes, only that in them the light of earthly pride -had given place to the calm, strong gravity of an assured peace,--the -same broad forehead,--the same delicately chiseled features, but -elevated and etherealized, glowing with a kind of interior ecstasy. -He seemed to move from the shadow of the orange trees with a backward -floating of his lustrous garments, as if borne on a cloud just along -the surface of the ground; and in his hand he held the lily spray, all -radiant with a silvery, living light, just as the monk had suggested -to her a divine flower might be. Agnes seemed to herself to hold her -breath and marvel with a secret awe, and as often happens in dreams, -she wondered to herself, "Was this stranger, then, indeed, not even -mortal, not even a king's brother, but an angel? How strange," she said -to herself, "that I should never have seen it in his eyes!" Nearer -and nearer the vision drew, and touched her forehead with the lily, -which seemed dewy and icy cool; and with the contact it seemed to her -that a delicious tranquillity, a calm ecstasy, possessed her soul, and -the words were impressed in her mind, as if spoken in her ear, "The -Lord hath sealed thee for his own!"--and then, with the wild fantasy -of dreams, she saw the cavalier in his wonted form and garments, just -as he had kneeled to her the night before, and he said, "Oh, Agnes! -Agnes! little lamb of Christ, love me and lead me!"--and in her sleep -it seemed to her that her heart stirred and throbbed with a strange, -new movement in answer to those sad, pleading eyes, and thereafter her -dream became more troubled. - -The sea was beginning now to brighten with the reflection of the coming -dawn in the sky, and the flickering fire of Vesuvius was waxing sickly -and pale; and while all the high points of rocks were turning of a rosy -purple, in the weird depths of the gorge were yet the unbroken shadows -and stillness of night. But at the earliest peep of dawn the monk had -risen, and now, as he paced up and down the little garden, his morning -hymn mingled with Agnes's dreams,--words strong with all the nerve of -the old Latin, which, when they were written, had scarcely ceased to be -the spoken tongue of Italy. - - "Splendor paternae gloriae, - De luce lucem proferens, - Lux lucis et fons luminis, - Dies diem illuminans! - - "Votis vocemus et Patrem, - Patrem potentis gratiae, - Patrem perennis gloriae: - Culpam releget lubricam! - - "Confirmet actus strenuos, - Dentes retundat invidi, - Casus secundet asperos, - Donet gerendi gratiam! - - "Christus nobis sit cibus, - Potusque noster sit fides: - Laeti bibamus sobriam - Ebrietatem spiritus! - - "Laetus dies hic transeat, - Pudor sit ut diluculum, - Fides velut meridies. - Crepusculum mens nesciat!"[3] - - [3] Splendor of the Father's glory, - Bringing light with cheering ray, - Light of light and fount of brightness, - Day, illuminating day! - - In our prayers we call thee Father, - Father of eternal glory, - Father of a mighty grace: - Heal our errors, we implore thee! - - Form our struggling, vague desires; - Power of spiteful spirits break; - Help us in life's straits, and give us - Grace to suffer for thy sake! - - Christ for us shall be our food; - Faith in him our drink shall be; - Hopeful, joyful, let us drink - Soberness of ecstasy! - - Joyful shall our day go by, - Purity its dawning light, - Faith its fervid noontide glow, - And for us shall be no night! - -The hymn in every word well expressed the character and habitual pose -of mind of the singer, whose views of earthly matters were as different -from the views of ordinary working mortals as those of a bird, as he -flits and perches and sings, must be from those of the four-footed -ox who plods. The "_sobriam ebrietatem spiritus_" was with him first -constitutional, as a child of sunny skies, and then cultivated by every -employment and duty of the religious and artistic career to which from -childhood he had devoted himself. If perfect, unalloyed happiness has -ever existed in this weary, work-day world of ours, it has been in -the bosoms of some of those old religious artists of the Middle Ages, -whose thoughts grew and flowered in prayerful shadows, bursting into -thousands of quaint and fanciful blossoms on the pages of missal and -breviary. In them the fine life of color, form, and symmetry, which is -the gift of the Italian, formed a rich stock on which to graft the true -vine of religious faith, and rare and fervid were the blossoms. - -For it must be remarked in justice of the Christian religion, that the -Italian people never rose to the honors of originality in the beautiful -arts till inspired by Christianity. The Art of ancient Rome was a -second-hand copy of the original and airy Greek,--often clever, but -never vivid and self-originating. It is to the religious Art of the -Middle Ages, to the Umbrian and Florentine schools particularly, that -we look for the peculiar and characteristic flowering of the Italian -mind. When the old Greek Art revived again in modern Europe, though at -first it seemed to add richness and grace to this peculiar development, -it smothered and killed it at last, as some brilliant tropical parasite -exhausts the life of the tree it seems at first to adorn. Raphael -and Michel Angelo mark both the perfected splendor and the commenced -decline of original Italian Art; and just in proportion as their ideas -grew less Christian and more Greek did the peculiar vividness and -intense flavor of Italian nationality pass away from them. They became -again like the ancient Romans, gigantic imitators and clever copyists, -instead of inspired kings and priests of a national development. - -The tones of the monk's morning hymn awakened both Agnes and Elsie, and -the latter was on the alert instantly. - -"Bless my soul!" she said, "brother Antonio has a marvelous power of -lungs; he is at it the first thing in the morning. It always used to be -so; when he was a boy, he would wake me up before daylight singing." - -"He is happy, like the birds," said Agnes, "because he flies near -heaven." - -"Like enough: he was always a pious boy; his prayers and his pencil -were ever uppermost: but he was a poor hand at work: he could draw you -an olive-tree on paper; but set him to dress it, and any fool would -have done better." - -The morning rites of devotion and the simple repast being over, Elsie -prepared to go to her business. It had occurred to her that the visit -of her brother was an admirable pretext for withdrawing Agnes from the -scene of her daily traffic, and of course, as she fondly supposed, -keeping her from the sight of the suspected admirer. - -Neither Agnes nor the monk had disturbed her serenity by recounting -the adventure of the evening before. Agnes had been silent from the -habitual reserve which a difference of nature ever placed between her -and her grandmother,--a difference which made confidence on her side -an utter impossibility. There are natures which ever must be silent to -other natures, because there is no common language between them. In the -same house, at the same board, sharing the same pillow even, are those -forever strangers and foreigners, whose whole stock of intercourse is -limited to a few brief phrases on the commonest material wants of life, -and who, as soon as they try to go farther, have no words that are -mutually understood. - -"Agnes," said her grandmother, "I shall not need you at the stand -to-day. There is that new flax to be spun, and you may keep company -with your uncle. I'll warrant me, you'll be glad enough of that!" - -"Certainly I shall," said Agnes, cheerfully. "Uncle's comings are my -holidays." - -"I will show you somewhat further on my Breviary," said the monk. -"Praised be God, many new ideas sprang up in my mind last night, and -seemed to shoot forth in blossoms. Even my dreams have often been made -fruitful in this divine work." - -"Many a good thought comes in dreams," said Elsie; "but, for my part, I -work too hard and sleep too sound to get much that way." - -"Well, brother," said Elsie, after breakfast, "you must look well after -Agnes to-day; for there be plenty of wolves go round, hunting these -little lambs." - -"Have no fear, sister," said the monk, tranquilly; "the angels have -her in charge. If our eyes were only clear-sighted, we should see that -Christ's little ones are never alone." - -"All that is fine talk, brother; but I never found that the angels -attended to any of my affairs, unless I looked after them pretty sharp -myself; and as for girls, the dear Lord knows they need a legion apiece -to look after them. What with roystering fellows and smooth-tongued -gallants, and with silly, empty-headed hussies like that Giulietta, one -has much ado to keep the best of them straight. Agnes is one of the -best, too,--a well-brought up, pious, obedient girl, and industrious -as a bee. Happy is the husband who gets her. I would I knew a man good -enough for her." - -This conversation took place while Agnes was in the garden picking -oranges and lemons, and filling the basket which her grandmother was to -take to the town. The silver ripple of a hymn that she was singing came -through the open door; it was part of a sacred ballad in honor of Saint -Agnes:-- - - "Bring me no pearls to bind my hair, - No sparkling jewels bring to me! - Dearer by far the blood-red rose - That speaks of Him who died for me. - - "Ah! vanish every earthly love, - All earthly dreams forgotten be! - My heart is gone beyond the stars, - To live with Him who died for me." - -"Hear you now, sister," said the monk, "how the Lord keeps the door of -this maiden's heart? There is no fear of her; and I much doubt, sister, -whether you would do well to interfere with the evident call this child -hath to devote herself wholly to the Lord." - -"Oh, you talk, brother Antonio, who never had a child in your life, -and don't know how a mother's heart warms towards her children and her -children's children! The saints, as I said, must be reasonable, and -oughtn't to be putting vocations into the head of an old woman's only -staff and stay; and if they oughtn't to, why, then, they won't. Agnes -is a pious child, and loves her prayers and hymns; and so she will love -her husband, one of these days, as an honest woman should." - -"But you know, sister, that the highest seats in Paradise are reserved -for the virgins who follow the Lamb." - -"Maybe so," said Elsie, stiffly; "but the lower seats are good enough -for Agnes and me. For my part, I would rather have a little comfort as -I go along, and put up with less in Paradise (may our dear Lady bring -us safely there!) say I." - -So saying, Elsie raised the large, square basket of golden fruit to -her head, and turned her stately figure towards the scene of her daily -labors. - -The monk seated himself on the garden wall, with his portfolio by his -side, and seemed busily sketching and retouching some of his ideas. -Agnes wound some silvery-white flax round her distaff, and seated -herself near him under an orange tree; and while her small fingers -were twisting the flax, her large, thoughtful eyes were wandering off -on the deep blue sea, pondering over and over the strange events of the -day before, and the dreams of the night. - -"Dear child," said the monk, "have you thought more of what I said to -you?" - -A deep blush suffused her cheek as she answered,-- - -"Yes, uncle; and I had a strange dream last night." - -"A dream, my little heart? Come, then, and tell it to its uncle. Dreams -are the hushing of the bodily senses, that the eyes of the Spirit may -open." - -"Well, then," said Agnes, "I dreamed that I sat pondering as I did last -evening in the moonlight, and that an angel came forth from the trees"-- - -"Indeed!" said the monk, looking up with interest; "what form had he?" - -"He was a young man, in dazzling white raiment, and his eyes were deep -as eternity; and over his forehead was a silver flame, and he bore a -lily-stalk in his hand, which was like what you told of, with light in -itself." - -"That must have been the holy Gabriel," said the monk, "the angel that -came to our blessed Mother. Did he say aught?" - -"Yes, he touched my forehead with the lily, and a sort of cool rest and -peace went all through me, and he said, 'The Lord hath sealed thee for -his own!'" - -"Even so," said the monk, looking up, and crossing himself devoutly, -"by this token I know that my prayers are answered." - -"But, dear uncle," said Agnes, hesitating and blushing painfully, -"there was one singular thing about my dream,--this holy angel had yet -a strange likeness to the young man that came here last night, so that -I could not but marvel at it." - -"It may be that the holy angel took on him in part this likeness -to show how glorious a redeemed soul might become, that you might -be encouraged to pray. The holy Saint Monica thus saw the blessed -Augustine standing clothed in white among the angels while he was yet -a worldling and unbeliever, and thereby received the grace to continue -her prayers for thirty years, till she saw him a holy bishop. This is a -sure sign that this young man, whoever he may be, shall attain Paradise -through your prayers. Tell me, dear little heart, is this the first -angel thou hast seen?" - -"I never dreamed of them before. I have dreamed of our Lady, and Saint -Agnes, and Saint Catharine of Siena, and sometimes it seemed that they -sat a long time by my bed, and sometimes it seemed that they took me -with them away to some beautiful place where the air was full of music, -and sometimes they filled my hands with such lovely flowers that when I -waked I was ready to weep that they could no more be found. Why, dear -uncle, do _you_ see angels often?" - -"Not often, dear child, but sometimes a little glimpse. But you should -see the pictures of our holy Father Angelico, to whom the angels -appeared constantly; for so blessed was the life he lived, that it was -more in heaven than on earth. He would never cumber his mind with the -things of this world, and would not paint for money, nor for princes' -favor; nor would he take places of power and trust in the Church, or -else, so great was his piety, they had made a bishop of him; but he -kept ever aloof and walked in the shade. He used to say, 'They that -would do Christ's work must walk with Christ.' His pictures of angels -are indeed wonderful, and their robes are of all dazzling colors, like -the rainbow. It is most surely believed among us that he painted to -show forth what he saw in heavenly visions." - -"Ah!" said Agnes, "how I wish I could see some of these things!" - -"You may well say so, dear child. There is one picture of Paradise -painted on gold, and there you may see our Lord in the midst of the -heavens crowning his blessed Mother, and all the saints and angels -surrounding; and the colors are so bright that they seem like the -sunset clouds,--golden, and rosy, and purple, and amethystine, and -green like the new, tender leaves of spring: for, you see, the angels -are the Lord's flowers and birds that shine and sing to gladden his -Paradise, and there is nothing bright on earth that is comparable to -them,--so said the blessed Angelico, who saw them. And what seems -worthy of note about them is their marvelous lightness, that they -seem to float as naturally as the clouds do, and their garments have -a divine grace of motion like vapor that curls and wavers in the sun. -Their faces, too, are most wonderful; for they seem so full of purity -and majesty, and withal humble, with an inexpressible sweetness; for, -beyond all others it was given to the holy Angelico to paint the -immortal beauty of the soul." - -"It must be a great blessing and favor for you, dear uncle, to see all -these things," said Agnes; "I am never tired of hearing you tell of -them." - -"There is one little picture," said the monk, "wherein he hath painted -the death of our dear Lady; and surely no mortal could ever conceive -anything like her sweet dying face, so faint and weak and tender that -each man sees his own mother dying there, yet so holy that one feels -that it can be no other than the mother of our Lord; and around her -stand the disciples mourning; but above is our blessed Lord himself, -who receives the parting spirit, as a tender new-born babe, into his -bosom: for so the holy painters represented the death of saints, as of -a birth in which each soul became a little child of heaven." - -"How great grace must come from such pictures!" said Agnes. "It seems -to me that the making of such holy things is one of the most blessed of -good works. Dear uncle," she said, after a pause, "they say that this -deep gorge is haunted by evil spirits, who often waylay and bewilder -the unwary, especially in the hours of darkness." - -"I should not wonder in the least," said the monk; "for you must know, -child, that our beautiful Italy was of old so completely given up -and gone over to idolatry that even her very soil casts up fragments -of temples and stones that have been polluted. Especially around -these shores there is scarcely a spot that hath not been violated in -all times by vilenesses and impurities such as the Apostle saith it -is a shame even to speak of. These very waters cast up marbles and -fragments of colored mosaics from the halls which were polluted with -devil-worship and abominable revelings; so that, as the Gospel saith -that the evil spirits cast out by Christ walk through waste places, so -do they cling to these fragments of their old estate." - -"Well, uncle, I have longed to consecrate the gorge to Christ by having -a shrine there, where I might keep a lamp burning." - -"It is a most pious thought, child." - -"And so, dear uncle, I thought that you would undertake the work. There -is one Pietro hereabout who is a skillful worker in stone, and was a -playfellow of mine,--though of late grandmamma has forbidden me to talk -with him,--and I think he would execute it under your direction." - -"Indeed, my little heart, it shall be done," said the monk, cheerfully; -"and I will engage to paint a fair picture of our Lady to be within; -and I think it would be a good thought to have a pinnacle on the -outside, where should stand a statue of Saint Michael with his sword. -Saint Michael is a brave and wonderful angel, and all the devils and -vile spirits are afraid of him. I will set about the devices to-day." -And cheerily the good monk began to intone a verse of an old hymn,-- - - "Sub tutela Michaelis, - Pax in terra, pax in coelis."[4] - - [4] "'Neath Saint Michael's watch is given - Peace on earth and peace in heaven." - -In such talk and work the day passed to Agnes; but we will not say that -she did not often fall into deep musings on the mysterious visitor of -the night before. Often while the good monk was busy at his drawing, -the distaff would droop over her knee and her large dark eyes become -intently fixed on the ground, as if she were pondering some absorbing -subject. - -Little could her literal, hard-working grandmother, or her artistic, -simple-minded uncle, or the dreamy Mother Theresa, or her austere -confessor, know of the strange forcing process which they were all -together uniting to carry on in the mind of this sensitive young girl. -Absolutely secluded by her grandmother's watchful care from any actual -knowledge and experience of real life, she had no practical tests by -which to correct the dreams of that inner world in which she delighted -to live and move, and which was peopled with martyrs, saints, and -angels, whose deeds were possible or probable only in the most exalted -regions of devout poetry. - -So she gave her heart at once and without reserve to an enthusiastic -desire for the salvation of the stranger, whom Heaven, she believed, -had directed to seek her intercessions; and when the spindle drooped -from her hand, and her eyes became fixed on vacancy, she found herself -wondering who he might really be, and longing to know yet a little more -of him. - -Towards the latter part of the afternoon, a hasty messenger came to -summon her uncle to administer the last rites to a man who had just -fallen from a building, and who, it was feared, might breathe his last -unshriven. - -"Dear daughter, I must hasten and carry Christ to this poor sinner," -said the monk, hastily putting all his sketches and pencils into her -lap. "Have a care of these till I return,--that is my good little one!" - -Agnes carefully arranged the sketches and put them into the book, and -then, kneeling before the shrine, began prayers for the soul of the -dying man. - -She prayed long and fervently, and so absorbed did she become, that she -neither saw nor heard anything that passed around her. - -It was therefore with a start of surprise, as she rose from prayer, -that she saw the cavalier sitting on one end of the marble sarcophagus, -with an air so composed and melancholy that he might have been taken -for one of the marble knights that sometimes are found on tombs. - -"You are surprised to see me, dear Agnes," he said, with a calm, slow -utterance, like a man who has assumed a position he means fully to -justify; "but I have watched day and night, ever since I saw you, to -find one moment to speak with you alone." - -"My Lord," said Agnes, "I humbly wait your pleasure. Anything that a -poor maiden may rightly do, I will endeavor, in all loving duty." - -"Whom do you take me for, Agnes, that you speak thus?" said the -cavalier, smiling sadly. - -"Are you not the brother of our gracious King?" said Agnes. - -"No, dear maiden; and if the kind promise you lately made me is founded -on this mistake, it may be retracted." - -"No, my Lord," said Agnes, "though I now know not who you are, yet if -in any strait or need you seek such poor prayers as mine, God forbid I -should refuse them!" - -"I am, indeed, in strait and need, Agnes; the sun does not shine -on a more desolate man than I am,--one more utterly alone in the -world; there is no one left to love me. Agnes, can you not love me a -little?--let it be ever so little, it shall content me." - -It was the first time that words of this purport had ever been -addressed to Agnes; but they were said so simply, so sadly, so -tenderly, that they somehow seemed to her the most natural and proper -things in the world to be said; and this poor handsome knight, who -looked so earnest and sorrowful,--how could she help answering, "Yes"? -From her cradle she had always loved everybody and everything, and why -should an exception be made in behalf of a very handsome, very strong, -yet very gentle and submissive human being, who came and knocked so -humbly at the door of her heart? Neither Mary nor the saints had taught -her to be hard-hearted. - -"Yes, my Lord," she said, "you may believe that I will love and pray -for you; but now, you must leave me, and not come here any more, -because grandmamma would not be willing that I should talk with you, -and it would be wrong to disobey her, she is so very good to me." - -"But, dear Agnes," began the cavalier, approaching her, "I have many -things to say to you,--I have much to tell you." - -"But I know grandmamma would not be willing," said Agnes; "indeed you -must not come here any more." - -"Well, then," said the stranger, "at least you will meet me at some -time,--tell me only where." - -"I cannot,--indeed I cannot," said Agnes, distressed and embarrassed. -"Even now, if grandmamma knew you were here, she would be so angry." - -"But how can you pray for me, when you know nothing of me?" - -"The dear Lord knoweth you," said Agnes; "and when I speak of you, He -will know what you need." - -"Ah, dear child, how fervent is your faith! Alas for me! I have lost -the power of prayer! I have lost the believing heart my mother gave -me,--my dear mother who is now in heaven." - -"Ah, how can that be?" said Agnes. "Who could lose faith in so dear a -Lord as ours, and so loving a mother?" - -"Agnes, dear little lamb, you know nothing of the world; and I should -be most wicked to disturb your lovely peace of soul with any sinful -doubts. Oh, Agnes, Agnes, I am most miserable, most unworthy!" - -"Dear sir, should you not cleanse your soul by the holy sacrament of -confession, and receive the living Christ within you? For he says, -'Without me ye can do nothing.'" - -"Oh, Agnes, sacrament and prayer are not for such as me! It is only -through your pure prayers I can hope for grace." - -"Dear sir, I have an uncle, a most holy man, and gentle as a lamb. He -is of the convent San Marco in Florence, where there is a most holy -prophet risen up." - -"Savonarola?" said the cavalier, with flashing eyes. - -"Yes, that is he. You should hear my uncle talk of him, and how blessed -his preaching has been to many souls. Dear sir, come sometime to my -uncle." - -At this moment the sound of Elsie's voice was heard ascending the path -to the gorge outside, talking with Father Antonio, who was returning. - -Both started, and Agnes looked alarmed. - -"Fear nothing, sweet lamb," said the cavalier; "I am gone." - -He kneeled and kissed the hand of Agnes, and disappeared at one bound -over the parapet on the side opposite that which they were approaching. - -Agnes hastily composed herself, struggling with that half-guilty -feeling which is apt to weigh on a conscientious nature that has -been unwittingly drawn to act a part which would be disapproved by -those whose good opinion it habitually seeks. The interview had but -the more increased her curiosity to know the history of this handsome -stranger. Who, then, could he be? What were his troubles? She wished -the interview could have been long enough to satisfy her mind on these -points. From the richness of his dress, from his air and manner, from -the poetry and the jewel that accompanied it, she felt satisfied that, -if not what she supposed, he was at least nobly born, and had shone in -some splendid sphere whose habits and ways were far beyond her simple -experiences. She felt towards him somewhat of the awe which a person of -her condition in life naturally felt toward that brilliant aristocracy -which in those days assumed the state of princes, and the members of -which were supposed to look down on common mortals from as great a -height as the stars regard the humblest flowers of the field. - -"How strange," she thought, "that he should think so much of me! What -can he see in me? And how can it be that a great lord, who speaks -so gently and is so reverential to a poor girl, and asks prayers so -humbly, can be so wicked and unbelieving as he says he is? Dear God, it -cannot be that he is an unbeliever; the great Enemy has been permitted -to try him, to suggest doubts to him, as he has to holy saints before -now. How beautifully he spoke about his mother!--tears glittered in his -eyes then,--ah, there must be grace there after all!" - -"Well, my little heart," said Elsie, interrupting her reveries, "have -you had a pleasant day?" - -"Delightful, grandmamma," said Agnes, blushing deeply with -consciousness. - -"Well," said Elsie, with satisfaction, "one thing I know,--I've -frightened off that old hawk of a cavalier with his hooked nose. I -haven't seen so much as the tip of his shoe-tie to-day. Yesterday he -made himself very busy around our stall; but I made him understand that -you never would come there again till the coast was clear." - -The monk was busily retouching the sketch of the Virgin of the -Annunciation. He looked up, and saw Agnes standing gazing towards the -setting sun, the pale olive of her cheek deepening into a crimson -flush. His head was too full of his own work to give much heed to the -conversation that had passed, but, looking at the glowing face, he said -to himself,-- - -"Truly, sometimes she might pass for the rose of Sharon as well as the -lily of the valley!" - -The moon that evening rose an hour later than the night before, yet -found Agnes still on her knees before the sacred shrine, while Elsie, -tired, grumbled at the draft on her sleeping-time. - -"Enough is as good as a feast," she remarked between her teeth; still -she had, after all, too much secret reverence for her grandchild's -piety openly to interrupt her. But in those days, as now, there were -the material and the spiritual, the souls who looked only on things -that could be seen, touched, and tasted, and souls who looked on the -things that were invisible. - -Agnes was pouring out her soul in that kind of yearning, passionate -prayer possible to intensely sympathetic people, in which the -interests and wants of another seem to annihilate for a time personal -consciousness, and make the whole of one's being seem to dissolve -in an intense solicitude for something beyond one's self. In such -hours prayer ceases to be an act of the will, and resembles more some -overpowering influence which floods the soul from without, bearing all -its faculties away on its resistless tide. - -Brought up from infancy to feel herself in a constant circle of -invisible spiritual agencies, Agnes received this wave of intense -feeling as an impulse inspired and breathed into her by some celestial -spirit, that thus she should be made an interceding medium for a soul -in some unknown strait or peril. For her faith taught her to believe in -an infinite struggle of intercession in which all the Church Visible -and Invisible were together engaged, and which bound them in living -bonds of sympathy to an interceding Redeemer, so that there was no want -or woe of human life that had not somewhere its sympathetic heart, and -its never-ceasing prayer before the throne of Eternal Love. Whatever -may be thought of the actual truth of this belief, it certainly was far -more consoling than that intense individualism of modern philosophy, -which places every soul alone in its life-battle, scarce even giving it -a God to lean upon. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE CONFESSIONAL - - -The reader, if a person of any common knowledge of human nature, -will easily see the direction in which a young, inexperienced, and -impressible girl would naturally be tending under all the influences -which we perceive to have come upon her. - -But in the religious faith which Agnes professed there was a modifying -force, whose power both for good and evil can scarcely be estimated. - -The simple Apostolic direction, "Confess your faults one to another," -and the very natural need of personal pastoral guidance and assistance -to a soul in its heavenward journey, had in common with many other -religious ideas been forced by the volcanic fervor of the Italian -nature into a certain exaggerated proposition. Instead of brotherly -confession one to another, or the pastoral sympathy of a fatherly -elder, the religious mind of the day was instructed in an awful -mysterious sacrament of confession, which gave to some human being -a divine right to unlock the most secret chambers of the soul, to -scrutinize and direct its most veiled and intimate thoughts, and, -standing in God's stead, to direct the current of its most sensitive -and most mysterious emotions. - -Every young aspirant for perfection in the religious life had to -commence by an unreserved surrender of the whole being in blind faith -at the feet of some such spiritual director, all whose questions must -be answered, and all whose injunctions obeyed, as from God himself. -Thenceforward was to be no soul-privacy, no retirement, nothing too -sacred to be expressed, too delicate to be handled and analyzed. In -reading the lives of those ethereally made and moulded women who -have come down to our day canonized as saints in the Roman Catholic -communion, one too frequently gets the impression of most regal -natures, gifted with all the most divine elements of humanity, but -subjected to a constant unnatural pressure from the ceaseless scrutiny -and ungenial pertinacity of some inferior and uncomprehending person -invested with the authority of a Spiritual Director. - -That there are advantages attending this species of intimate direction, -when wisely and skillfully managed, cannot be doubted. Groveling and -imperfect natures have often thus been lifted up and carried in the -arms of superior wisdom and purity. The confession administered by -a Fenelon or a Francis de Sales was doubtless a beautiful and most -invigorating ordinance; but the difficulty in its actual working is the -rarity of such superior natures,--the fact that the most ignorant and -most incapable may be invested with precisely the same authority as the -most intelligent and skillful. - -He to whom the faith of Agnes obliged her to lay open her whole soul, -who had a right with probing-knife and lancet to dissect all the finest -nerves and fibres of her womanly nature, was a man who had been through -all the wild and desolating experiences incident to a dissipated and -irregular life in those turbulent days. - -It is true that he was now with most stringent and earnest solemnity -striving to bring every thought and passion into captivity to the -spirit of his sacred vows; but still, when a man has once lost that -unconscious soul-purity which exists in a mind unscathed by the fires -of passion, no after-tears can weep it back again. No penance, no -prayer, no anguish of remorse can give back the simplicity of a soul -that has never been stained. - -Il Padre Francesco had not failed to make those inquiries into the -character of Agnes's mysterious lover which he assumed to be necessary -as a matter of pastoral faithfulness. - -It was not difficult for one possessing the secrets of the confessional -to learn the real character of any person in the neighborhood, and it -was with a kind of bitter satisfaction which rather surprised himself -that the father learned enough ill of the cavalier to justify his using -every possible measure to prevent his forming any acquaintance with -Agnes. He was captain of a band of brigands, and, of course, in array -against the State; he was excommunicated, and, of course, an enemy of -the Church. What but the vilest designs could be attributed to such -a man? Was he not a wolf prowling round the green, secluded pastures -where as yet the Lord's lamb had been folded in unconscious innocence? - -Father Francesco, when he next met Agnes at the confessional, put such -questions as drew from her the whole account of all that had passed -between her and the stranger. The recital on Agnes's part was perfectly -translucent and pure, for she had said no word and had had no thought -that brought the slightest stain upon her soul. Love and prayer had -been the prevailing habit of her life, and in promising to love and -pray, she had had no worldly or earthly thought. The language of -gallantry, or even of sincere passion, had never reached her ear; but -it had always been as natural to her to love every human being as for a -plant with tendrils to throw them round the next plant, and therefore -she entertained the gentle guest who had lately found room in her heart -without a question or a scruple. - -As Agnes related her childlike story of unconscious faith and love, her -listener felt himself strangely and bitterly agitated. It was a vision -of ignorant purity and unconsciousness rising before him, airy and -glowing as a child's soap-bubble, which one touch might annihilate; -but he felt a strange remorseful tenderness, a yearning admiration, -at its unsubstantial purity. There is something pleading and pitiful -in the simplicity of perfect ignorance,--a rare and delicate beauty -in its freshness, like the morning-glory cup, which, once withered -by the heat, no second morning can restore. Agnes had imparted to -her confessor, by a mysterious sympathy, something like the morning -freshness of her own soul; she had redeemed the idea of womanhood -from gross associations, and set before him a fair ideal of all that -female tenderness and purity may teach to man. Her prayers,--well -he believed in them,--but he set his teeth with a strange spasm of -inward passion, when he thought of her prayers and love being given to -another. He tried to persuade himself that this was only the fervor of -pastoral zeal against a vile robber who had seized the fairest lamb of -the sheepfold; but there was an intensely bitter, miserable feeling -connected with it, that scorched and burned his higher aspirations like -a stream of lava running among fresh leaves and flowers. - -The conflict of his soul communicated a severity of earnestness to -his voice and manner which made Agnes tremble, as he put one probing -question after another, designed to awaken some consciousness of sin -in her soul. Still, though troubled and distressed by his apparent -disapprobation, her answers came always clear, honest, unfaltering, -like those of one who _could_ not form an idea of evil. - -When the confession was over, he came out of his recess to speak -with Agnes a few words face to face. His eyes had a wild and haggard -earnestness, and a vivid hectic flush on either cheek told how extreme -was his emotion. Agnes lifted her eyes to his with an innocent -wondering trouble and an appealing confidence that for a moment wholly -unnerved him. He felt a wild impulse to clasp her in his arms; and for -a moment it seemed to him he would sacrifice heaven and brave hell, if -he could for one moment hold her to his heart, and say that he loved -her,--her, the purest, fairest, sweetest revelation of God's love that -had ever shone on his soul,--her, the only star, the only flower, the -only dewdrop of a burning, barren, weary life. It seemed to him that it -was not the longing, gross passion, but the outcry of his whole nature -for something noble, sweet, and divine. - -But he turned suddenly away with a sort of groan, and, folding his robe -over his face, seemed engaged in earnest prayer. Agnes looked at him -awestruck and breathless. - -"Oh, my father!" she faltered, "what have I done?" - -"Nothing, my poor child," said the father, suddenly turning toward -her with recovered calmness and dignity; "but I behold in thee a fair -lamb whom the roaring lion is seeking to devour. Know, my daughter, -that I have made inquiries concerning this man of whom you speak, and -find that he is an outlaw and a robber and a heretic,--a vile wretch -stained by crimes that have justly drawn down upon him the sentence of -excommunication from our Holy Father, the Pope." - -Agnes grew deadly pale at this announcement. - -"Can it be possible?" she gasped. "Alas! what dreadful temptations have -driven him to such sins?" - -"Daughter, beware how you think too lightly of them, or suffer his good -looks and flattering words to blind you to their horror. You must from -your heart detest him as a vile enemy." - -"Must I, my father?" - -"Indeed you must." - -"But if the dear Lord loved us and died for us when we were his -enemies, may we not pity and pray for unbelievers? Oh, say, my dear -father, is it not allowed to us to pray for all sinners, even the -vilest?" - -"I do not say that you may not, my daughter," said the monk, too -conscientious to resist the force of this direct appeal; "but, -daughter," he added, with an energy that alarmed Agnes, "you must watch -your heart; you must not suffer your interest to become a worldly love: -remember that you are chosen to be the espoused of Christ alone." - -While the monk was speaking thus, Agnes fixed on him her eyes with an -innocent mixture of surprise and perplexity, which gradually deepened -into a strong gravity of gaze, as if she were looking through him, -through all visible things, into some far-off depth of mysterious -knowledge. - -"My Lord will keep me," she said; "my soul is safe in His heart as a -little bird in its nest; but while I love Him, I cannot help loving -everybody whom He loves, even His enemies: and, father, my heart prays -within me for this poor sinner, whether I will or no; something within -me continually intercedes for him." - -"Oh, Agnes! Agnes! blessed child, pray for me also," said the monk, -with a sudden burst of emotion which perfectly confounded his disciple. -He hid his face with his hands. - -"My blessed father!" said Agnes, "how could I deem that holiness like -yours had any need of my prayers?" - -"Child! child! you know nothing of me. I am a miserable sinner, tempted -of devils, in danger of damnation." - -Agnes stood appalled at this sudden burst, so different from the rigid -and restrained severity of tone in which the greater part of the -conversation had been conducted. She stood silent and troubled; while -he, whom she had always regarded with such awful veneration, seemed -shaken by some internal whirlwind of emotion whose nature she could not -comprehend. - -At length Father Francesco raised his head, and recovered his wonted -calm severity of expression. - -"My daughter," he said, "little do the innocent lambs of the flock -know of the dangers and conflicts through which the shepherds must -pass who keep the Lord's fold. We have the labors of angels laid upon -us, and we are but men. Often we stumble, often we faint, and Satan -takes advantage of our weakness. I cannot confer with you now as I -would; but, my child, listen to my directions. Shun this young man; let -nothing ever lead you to listen to another word from him; you must not -even look at him, should you meet, but turn away your head and repeat a -prayer. I do not forbid you to practice the holy work of intercession -for his soul, but it must be on these conditions." - -"My father," said Agnes, "you may rely on my obedience;" and, kneeling, -she kissed his hand. - -He drew it suddenly away, with a gesture of pain and displeasure. - -"Pardon a sinful child this liberty," said Agnes. - -"You know not what you do," said the father, hastily. "Go, my -daughter,--go at once; I will confer with you some other time;" and -hastily raising his hand in an attitude of benediction, he turned and -went into the confessional. - -"Wretch! hypocrite! whited sepulchre!" he said to himself,--"to warn -this innocent child against a sin that is all the while burning in my -own bosom! Yes, I do love her,--I do! I, that warn her against earthly -love, I would plunge into hell itself to win hers! And yet, when I know -that the care of her soul is only a temptation and a snare to me, I -cannot, will not give her up! No, I cannot!--no, I will not! Why should -I not love her? Is she not pure as Mary herself? Ah, blessed is he whom -such a woman leads! And I--I--have condemned myself to the society of -swinish, ignorant, stupid monks,--I must know no such divine souls, no -such sweet communion! Help me, blessed Mary!--help a miserable sinner!" - -Agnes left the confessional perplexed and sorrowful. The pale, proud, -serious face of the cavalier seemed to look at her imploringly, and -she thought of him now with the pathetic interest we give to something -noble and great exposed to some fatal danger. "Could the sacrifice of -my whole life," she thought, "rescue this noble soul from perdition, -then I shall not have lived in vain. I am a poor little girl; nobody -knows whether I live or die. He is a strong and powerful man, and many -must stand or fall with him. Blessed be the Lord that gives to his -lowly ones a power to work in secret places! How blessed should I be to -meet him in Paradise all splendid as I saw him in my dream! Oh, that -would be worth living for,--worth dying for!" - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -PERPLEXITIES - - -Agnes returned from the confessional with more sadness than her simple -life had ever known before. The agitation of her confessor, the -tremulous eagerness of his words, the alternations of severity and -tenderness in his manner to her, all struck her only as indications of -the very grave danger in which she was placed, and the awfulness of the -sin and condemnation which oppressed the soul of one for whom she was -conscious of a deep and strange interest. - -She had the undoubting, uninquiring reverence which a Christianly -educated child of those times might entertain for the visible head of -the Christian Church, all whose doings were to be regarded with an -awful veneration which never even raised a question. - -That the Papal throne was now filled by a man who had bought his -election with the wages of iniquity, and dispensed its powers and -offices with sole reference to the aggrandizement of a family -proverbial for brutality and obscenity, was a fact well known to the -reasoning and enlightened orders of society at this time; but it did -not penetrate into those lowly valleys where the sheep of the Lord -humbly pastured, innocently unconscious of the frauds and violence by -which their dearest interests were bought and sold. - -The Christian faith we now hold, who boast our enlightened -Protestantism, has been transmitted to us through the hearts and hands -of such,--who, while princes wrangled with Pope, and Pope with princes, -knew nothing of it all, but in lowly ways of prayer and patient labor -were one with us of modern times in the great central belief of the -Christian heart, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain." - -As Agnes came slowly up the path towards the little garden, she was -conscious of a burden and weariness of spirit she had never known -before. She passed the little moist grotto, which in former times she -never failed to visit to see if there were any new-blown cyclamen, -without giving it even a thought. A crimson spray of gladiolus leaned -from the rock and seemed softly to kiss her cheek, yet she regarded -it not; and once stopping and gazing abstractedly upward on the -flower-tapestried walls of the gorge, as they rose in wreath and -garland and festoon above her, she felt as if the brilliant yellow of -the broom and the crimson of the gillyflowers, and all the fluttering, -nodding armies of brightness that were dancing in the sunlight, were -too gay for such a world as this, where mortal sins and sorrows made -such havoc with all that seemed brightest and best, and she longed to -fly away and be at rest. - -Just then she heard the cheerful voice of her uncle in the little -garden above, as he was singing at his painting. The words were -those of that old Latin hymn of Saint Bernard, which, in its English -dress, has thrilled many a Methodist class meeting and many a Puritan -conference, telling, in the welcome they meet in each Christian soul, -that there is a unity in Christ's Church which is not outward,--a -secret, invisible bond, by which, under warring names and badges of -opposition, His true followers have yet been one in Him, even though -they discerned it not. - - "Jesu dulcis memoria, - Dans vera cordi gaudia: - Sed super mel et omnia - Ejus dulcis praesentia. - - "Nil canitur suavius, - Nil auditur jocundius, - Nil cogitatur dulcius, - Quam Jesus Dei Filius. - - "Jesu, spes poenitentibus, - Quam pius es petentibus, - Quam bonus te quaerentibus, - Sed quis invenientibus! - - "Nec lingua valet dicere, - Nec littera exprimere: - Expertus potest credere - Quid sit Jesum diligere."[5] - - [5] "Jesus, the very thought of thee - With sweetness fills my breast; - But sweeter far thy face to see, - And in thy presence rest! - - "Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame, - Nor can the memory find - A sweeter sound than thy blest name, - O Saviour of mankind! - - "O hope of every contrite heart, - O joy of all the meek, - To those who fall how kind thou art, - How good to those who seek! - - "But what to those who find! Ah, this - Nor tongue nor pen can show! - The love of Jesus, what it is - None but his loved ones know." - -The old monk sang with all his heart; and his voice, which had been -a fine one in its day, had still that power which comes from the -expression of deep feeling. One often hears this peculiarity in the -voices of persons of genius and sensibility, even when destitute of any -real critical merit. They seem to be so interfused with the emotions of -the soul, that they strike upon the heart almost like the living touch -of a spirit. - -Agnes was soothed in listening to him. The Latin words, the sentiment -of which had been traditional in the Church from time immemorial, had -to her a sacred fragrance and odor; they were words apart from all -common usage, a sacramental language, never heard but in moments of -devotion and aspiration,--and they stilled the child's heart in its -tossings and tempest, as when of old the Jesus they spake of walked -forth on the stormy sea. - -"Yes, He gave his life for us!" she said; "He is ever reigning for us! - - "'Jesu dulcissime, e throno gloriae - Ovem deperditam venisti quaerere! - Jesu suavissime, pastor fidissime, - Ad te O trahe me, ut semper sequar te!'"[6] - - [6] Jesus most beautiful, from thrones in glory, - Seeking thy lost sheep, thou didst descend! - Jesus most tender, shepherd most faithful, - To thee, oh, draw thou me, that I may follow thee, - Follow thee faithfully world without end! - -"What, my little one!" said the monk, looking over the wall; "I thought -I heard angels singing. Is it not a beautiful morning?" - -"Dear uncle, it is," said Agnes. "And I have been so glad to hear your -beautiful hymn!--it comforted me." - -"Comforted you, little heart? What a word is that! When you get as far -along on your journey as your old uncle, then you may talk of comfort. -But who thinks of comforting birds or butterflies or young lambs?" - -"Ah, dear uncle, I am not so very happy," said Agnes, the tears -starting into her eyes. - -"Not happy?" said the monk, looking up from his drawing. "Pray, -what's the matter now? Has a bee stung your finger? or have you lost -your nosegay over a rock? or what dreadful affliction has come upon -you?--hey, my little heart?" - -Agnes sat down on the corner of the marble fountain, and, covering her -face with her apron, sobbed as if her heart would break. - -"What has that old priest been saying to her in the confession?" said -Father Antonio to himself. "I dare say he cannot understand her. -She is as pure as a dewdrop on a cobweb, and as delicate; and these -priests, half of them, don't know how to handle the Lord's lambs. -Come now, little Agnes," he said, with a coaxing tone, "what is its -trouble?--tell its old uncle,--there's a dear!" - -"Ah, uncle, I can't!" said Agnes, between her sobs. - -"Can't tell its uncle!--there's a pretty go! Perhaps you will tell -grandmamma?" - -"Oh, no, no, no! not for the world!" said Agnes, sobbing still more -bitterly. - -"Why, really, little heart of mine, this is getting serious," said the -monk; "let your old uncle try to help you." - -"It isn't for myself," said Agnes, endeavoring to check her -feelings,--"it is not for myself,--it is for another,--for a soul lost. -Ah, my Jesus, have mercy!" - -"A soul lost? Our Mother forbid!" said the monk, crossing himself. -"Lost in this Christian land, so overflowing with the beauty of the -Lord?--lost out of this fair sheepfold of Paradise?" - -"Yes, lost," said Agnes, despairingly, "and if somebody do not save -him, lost forever; and it is a brave and noble soul, too,--like one of -the angels that fell." - -"Who is it, dear?--tell me about it," said the monk. "I am one of the -shepherds whose place it is to go after that which is lost, even till I -find it." - -"Dear uncle, you remember the youth who suddenly appeared to us in the -moonlight here a few evenings ago?" - -"Ah, indeed!" said the monk, "what of him?" - -"Father Francesco has told me dreadful things of him this morning." - -"What things?" - -"Uncle, he is excommunicated by our Holy Father the Pope." - -Father Antonio, as a member of one of the most enlightened and -cultivated religious orders of the times, and as an intimate companion -and disciple of Savonarola, had a full understanding of the character -of the reigning Pope, and therefore had his own private opinion of -how much his excommunication was likely to be worth in the invisible -world. He knew that the same doom had been threatened towards his -saintly master, for opposing and exposing the scandalous vices which -disgraced the high places of the Church; so that, on the whole, when -he heard that this young man was excommunicated, so far from being -impressed with horror towards him, he conceived the idea that he might -be a particularly honest fellow and good Christian. But then he did not -hold it wise to disturb the faith of the simple-hearted by revealing to -them the truth about the head of the Church on earth. - -While the disorders in those elevated regions filled the minds of the -intelligent classes with apprehension and alarm, they held it unwise -to disturb the trustful simplicity of the lower orders, whose faith -in Christianity itself they supposed might thus be shaken. In fact, -they were themselves somewhat puzzled how to reconcile the patent and -manifest fact, that the actual incumbent of the Holy See was not under -the guidance of any spirit, unless it were a diabolical one, with the -theory which supposed an infallible guidance of the Holy Spirit to -attend as a matter of course on that position. Some of the boldest of -them did not hesitate to declare that the Holy City had suffered a foul -invasion, and that a false usurper reigned in her sacred palaces in -place of the Father of Christendom. The greater part did as people now -do with the mysteries and discrepancies of a faith which on the whole -they revere: they turned their attention from the vexed question, and -sighed and longed for better days. - -Father Antonio did not, therefore, tell Agnes that the announcement -which had filled her with such distress was far less conclusive with -himself of the ill desert of the individual to whom it related. - -"My little heart," he answered, gravely, "did you learn the sin for -which this young man was excommunicated?" - -"Ah, me! my dear uncle, I fear he is an infidel,--an unbeliever. -Indeed, now I remember it, he confessed as much to me the other day." - -"Where did he tell you this?" - -"You remember, my uncle, when you were sent for to the dying man? When -you were gone, I kneeled down to pray for his soul; and when I rose -from prayer, this young cavalier was sitting right here, on this end of -the fountain. He was looking fixedly at me, with such sad eyes, so full -of longing and pain, that it was quite piteous; and he spoke to me so -sadly, I could not but pity him." - -"What did he say to you, child?" - -"Ah, father, he said that he was all alone in the world, without -friends, and utterly desolate, with no one to love him; but worse than -that, he said he had lost his faith, that he could not believe." - -"What did you say to him?" - -"Uncle, I tried, as a poor girl might, to do him some good. I prayed -him to confess and take the sacrament; but he looked almost fierce -when I said so. And yet I cannot but think, after all, that he has not -lost all grace, because he begged me so earnestly to pray for him; he -said his prayers could do no good, and wanted mine. And then I began -to tell him about you, dear uncle, and how you came from that blessed -convent in Florence, and about your master Savonarola; and that seemed -to interest him, for he looked quite excited, and spoke the name over, -as if it were one he had heard before. I wanted to urge him to come and -open his case to you; and I think perhaps I might have succeeded, but -that just then you and grandmamma came up the path; and when I heard -you coming, I begged him to go, because you know grandmamma would be -very angry, if she knew that I had given speech to a man, even for a -few moments; she thinks men are so dreadful." - -"I must seek this youth," said the monk, in a musing tone; "perhaps I -may find out what inward temptation hath driven him away from the fold." - -"Oh, do, dear uncle, do!" said Agnes, earnestly. "I am sure that he has -been grievously tempted and misled, for he seems to have a noble and -gentle nature; and he spoke so feelingly of his mother, who is a saint -in heaven; and he seemed so earnestly to long to return to the bosom of -the Church." - -"The Church is a tender mother to all her erring children," said the -monk. - -"And don't you think that our dear Holy Father the Pope will forgive -him?" said Agnes. "Surely, he will have all the meekness and gentleness -of Christ, who would rejoice in one sheep found more than in all the -ninety-and-nine who went not astray." - -The monk could scarcely repress a smile at imagining Alexander the -Sixth in this character of a good shepherd, as Agnes's enthusiastic -imagination painted the head of the Church; and then he gave an inward -sigh, and said, softly, "Lord, how long?" - -"I think," said Agnes, "that this young man is of noble birth, for his -words and his bearing and his tones of voice are not those of common -men; even though he speaks so humbly and gently, there is yet something -princely that looks out of his eyes, as if he were born to command; and -he wears strange jewels, the like of which I never saw, on his hands -and at the hilt of his dagger,--yet he seems to make nothing of them. -But yet, I know not why, he spoke of himself as one utterly desolate -and forlorn. Father Francesco told me that he was captain of a band of -robbers who live in the mountains. One cannot think it is so." - -"Little heart," said the monk tenderly, "you can scarcely know what -things befall men in these distracted times, when faction wages war -with faction, and men pillage and burn and imprison, first on this -side, then on that. Many a son of a noble house may find himself -homeless and landless, and, chased by the enemy, may have no refuge -but the fastnesses of the mountains. Thank God, our lovely Italy hath -a noble backbone of these same mountains, which afford shelter to her -children in their straits." - -"Then you think it possible, dear uncle, that this may not be a bad -man, after all?" - -"Let us hope so, child. I will myself seek him out; and if his mind -have been chafed by violence or injustice, I will strive to bring him -back into the good ways of the Lord. Take heart, my little one,--all -will yet be well. Come now, little darling, wipe your bright eyes, and -look at these plans I have been making for the shrine we were talking -of, in the gorge. See here, I have drawn a goodly arch with a pinnacle. -Under the arch, you see, shall be the picture of our Lady with the -blessed Babe. The arch shall be cunningly sculptured with vines of ivy -and passion-flower; and on one side of it shall stand Saint Agnes with -her lamb,--and on the other, Saint Cecilia, crowned with roses; and -on this pinnacle, above all, Saint Michael, all in armor, shall stand -leaning,--one hand on his sword, and holding a shield with the cross -upon it." - -"Ah, that will be beautiful!" said Agnes. - -"You can scarcely tell," pursued the monk, "from this faint drawing, -what the picture of our Lady is to be; but I shall paint her to the -highest of my art, and with many prayers that I may work worthily. -You see, she shall be standing on a cloud with a background all of -burnished gold, like the streets of the New Jerusalem; and she shall be -clothed in a mantle of purest blue from head to foot, to represent the -unclouded sky of summer; and on her forehead she shall wear the evening -star, which ever shineth when we say the Ave Maria; and all the borders -of her blue vesture shall be cunningly wrought with fringes of stars; -and the dear Babe shall lean his little cheek to hers so peacefully, -and there shall be a clear shining of love through her face, and a -heavenly restfulness, that it shall do one's heart good to look at -her. Many a blessed hour shall I have over this picture,--many a hymn -shall I sing as my work goes on. I must go about to prepare the panels -forthwith; and it were well, if there be that young man who works in -stone, to have him summoned to our conference." - -"I think," said Agnes, "that you will find him in the town; he dwells -next to the cathedral." - -"I trust he is a youth of pious life and conversation," said the monk. -"I must call on him this afternoon; for he ought to be stirring himself -up by hymns and prayers, and by meditations on the beauty of saints and -angels, for so goodly a work. What higher honor or grace can befall a -creature than to be called upon to make visible to men that beauty of -invisible things which is divine and eternal? How many holy men have -given themselves to this work in Italy, till, from being overrun with -heathen temples, it is now full of most curious and wonderful churches, -shrines, and cathedrals, every stone of which is a miracle of beauty! I -would, dear daughter, you could see our great Duomo in Florence, which -is a mountain of precious marbles and many-colored mosaics; and the -Campanile that riseth thereby is like a lily of Paradise,--so tall, so -stately, with such an infinite grace, and adorned all the way up with -holy emblems and images of saints and angels; nor is there any part of -it, within or without, that is not finished sacredly with care, as an -offering to the most perfect God. Truly, our fair Florence, though she -be little, is worthy, by her sacred adornments, to be worn as the lily -of our Lady's girdle, even as she hath been dedicated to her." - -Agnes seemed pleased with the enthusiastic discourse of her uncle. -The tears gradually dried from her eyes as she listened to him, -and the hope so natural to the young and untried heart began to -reassert itself. God was merciful, the world beautiful; there was a -tender Mother, a reigning Saviour, protecting angels and guardian -saints: surely, then, there was no need to despair of the recall -of any wanderer; and the softest supplication of the most ignorant -and unworthy would be taken up by so many sympathetic voices in the -invisible world, and borne on in so many waves of brightness to the -heavenly throne, that the most timid must have hope in prayer. - -In the afternoon, the monk went to the town to seek the young artist, -and also to inquire for the stranger for whom his pastoral offices were -in requisition, and Agnes remained alone in the little solitary garden. - -It was one of those rich slumberous afternoons of spring that seem to -bathe earth and heaven with an Elysian softness; and from her little -lonely nook shrouded in dusky shadows by its orange-trees, Agnes looked -down the sombre gorge to where the open sea lay panting and palpitating -in blue and violet waves, while the little white sails of fishing-boats -drifted hither and thither, now silvered in the sunshine, now fading -away like a dream into the violet vapor bands that mantled the horizon. -The weather would have been oppressively sultry but for the gentle -breeze which constantly drifted landward with coolness in its wings. -The hum of the old town came to her ear softened by distance and -mingled with the patter of the fountain and the music of birds singing -in the trees overhead. Agnes tried to busy herself with her spinning; -but her mind constantly wandered away, and stirred and undulated -with a thousand dim and unshaped thoughts and emotions, of which she -vaguely questioned in her own mind. Why did Father Francesco warn her -so solemnly against an earthly love? Did he not know her vocation? But -still he was wisest and must know best; there must be danger, if he -said so. But then, this knight had spoken so modestly, so humbly,--so -differently from Giulietta's lovers!--for Giulietta had sometimes found -a chance to recount to Agnes some of her triumphs. How could it be that -a knight so brave and gentle, and so piously brought up, should become -an infidel? Ah, uncle Antonio was right,--he must have had some foul -wrong, some dreadful injury! When Agnes was a child, in traveling with -her grandmother through one of the highest passes of the Apennines, she -had chanced to discover a wounded eagle, whom an arrow had pierced, -sitting all alone by himself on a rock, with his feathers ruffled, -and a film coming over his great, clear, bright eye,--and, ever full -of compassion, she had taken him to nurse, and had traveled for a day -with him in her arms; and the mournful look of his regal eyes now came -into her memory. "Yes," she said to herself, "he is like my poor eagle! -The archers have wounded him, so that he is glad to find shelter even -with a poor maid like me; but it was easy to see my eagle had been king -among birds, even as this knight is among men. Certainly, God must love -him,--he is so beautiful and noble! I hope dear uncle will find him -this afternoon; he knows how to teach him; as for me I can only pray." - -Such were the thoughts that Agnes twisted into the shining white flax, -while her eyes wandered dreamily over the soft hazy landscape. At -last, lulled by the shivering sound of leaves, and the bird-songs, and -wearied with the agitations of the morning, her head lay back against -the end of the sculptured fountain, the spindle slowly dropped from her -hand, and her eyes were closed in sleep, the murmur of the fountain -still sounding in her dreams. In her dreams she seemed to be wandering -far away among the purple passes of the Apennines, where she had come -years ago when she was a little girl; with her grandmother she pushed -through old olive-groves, weird and twisted with many a quaint gnarl, -and rustling their pale silvery leaves in noonday twilight. Sometimes -she seemed to carry in her bosom a wounded eagle, and often she sat -down to stroke it and to try to give it food from her hand, and as -often it looked upon her with a proud, patient eye, and then her -grandmother seemed to shake her roughly by the arm and bid her throw -the silly bird away;--but then again the dream changed, and she saw a -knight lie bleeding and dying in a lonely hollow,--is garments torn, -his sword broken, and his face pale and faintly streaked with blood; -and she kneeled by him, trying in vain to stanch a deadly wound in his -side, while he said reproachfully, "Agnes, dear Agnes, why would you -not save me?" and then she thought he kissed her hand with his cold -dying lips; and she shivered and awoke,--to find that her hand was -indeed held in that of the cavalier, whose eyes met her own when first -she unclosed them, and the same voice that spoke in her dream said, -"Agnes, dear Agnes!" - -For a moment she seemed stupefied and confounded, and sat passively -regarding the knight, who kneeled at her feet and repeatedly kissed her -hand, calling her his saint, his star, his life, and whatever other -fair name poetry lends to love. All at once, however, her face flushed -crimson red, she drew her hand quickly away, and, rising up, made a -motion to retreat, saying, in a voice of alarm,-- - -"Oh, my Lord, this must not be! I am committing deadly sin to hear you. -Please, please go! please leave a poor girl!" - -"Agnes, what does this mean?" said the cavalier. "Only two days since, -in this place, you promised to love me; and that promise has brought me -from utter despair to love of life. Nay, since you told me that, I have -been able to pray once more; the whole world seems changed for me: and -now will you take it all away,--you, who are all I have on earth?" - -"My Lord, I did not know then that I was sinning. Our dear Mother knows -I said only what I thought was true and right, but I find it was a sin." - -"A sin to love, Agnes? Heaven must be full of sin, then; for there they -do nothing else." - -"Oh, my Lord, I must not argue with you; I am forbidden to listen even -for a moment. Please go. I will never forget you, sir,--never forget -to pray for you, and to love you as they love in heaven; but I am -forbidden to speak with you. I fear I have sinned in hearing and saying -even this much." - -"Who forbids you, Agnes? Who has the right to forbid your good, kind -heart to love, where love is so deeply needed and so gratefully -received?" - -"My holy father, whom I am bound to obey as my soul's director," said -Agnes. "He has forbidden me so much as to listen to a word, and yet I -have listened to many. How could I help it?" - -"Ever these priests!" said the cavalier, his brow darkening with an -impatient frown; "wolves in sheep's clothing!" - -"Alas!" said Agnes, sorrowfully, "why will you"-- - -"Why will I what?" he said, facing suddenly toward her and looking down -with a fierce, scornful determination. - -"Why will you be at war with the Holy Church? Why will you peril your -eternal salvation?" - -"Is there a Holy Church? Where is it? Would there were one! I am blind -and cannot see it. Little Agnes, you promised to lead me; but you drop -my hand in the darkness. Who will guide me, if you will not?" - -"My Lord, I am most unfit to be your guide. I am a poor girl, without -any learning; but there is my uncle I spoke to you of. Oh, my Lord, if -you only would go to him, he is wise and gentle both. I must go in now, -my Lord,--indeed, I must. I must not sin further. I must do a heavy -penance for having listened and spoken to you, after the holy father -had forbidden me." - -"No, Agnes, you shall not go in," said the cavalier, suddenly stepping -before her and placing himself across the doorway; "you shall see me, -and hear me too. I take the sin on myself; you cannot help it. How -will you avoid me? Will you fly now down the path of the gorge? I will -follow you,--I am desperate. I had but one comfort on earth, but one -hope of heaven, and that through you; and you, cruel, are so ready to -give me up at the first word of your priest!" - -"God knows if I do it willingly," said Agnes; "but I know it is best; -for I feel I should love you too well, if I saw more of you. My Lord, -you are strong and can compel me, but I beg you to leave me." - -"Dear Agnes, could you really feel it possible that you might love me -too well?" said the cavalier, his whole manner changing. "Ah! could I -carry you far away to my home in the mountains, far up in the beautiful -blue mountains, where the air is so clear, and the weary, wrangling -world lies so far below that one forgets it entirely, you should be -my wife, my queen, my empress. You should lead me where you would, -your word should be my law. I will go with you wherever you will,--to -confession, to sacrament, to prayers, never so often; never will I -rebel against your word; if you decree, I will bend my neck to king -or priest; I will reconcile me with anybody or anything only for your -sweet sake; you shall lead me all my life; and when we die, I ask only -that you may lead me to our Mother's throne in heaven, and pray her to -tolerate me for your sake. Come, now, dear, is not even one unworthy -soul worth saving?" - -"My Lord, you have taught me how wise my holy father was in forbidding -me to listen to you. He knew better than I how weak was my heart, -and how I might be drawn on from step to step till--My Lord, I must -be no man's wife. I follow the blessed Saint Agnes! May God give me -grace to keep my vows without wavering!--for then I shall gain power -to intercede for you and bring down blessings on your soul. Oh, never, -never speak to me so again, my Lord!--you will make me very, _very_ -unhappy. If there is any truth in your words, my Lord, if you really -love me, you will go, and you will never try to speak to me again." - -"Never, Agnes? never? Think what you are saying!" - -"Oh, I do think! I know it must be best," said Agnes, much agitated; -"for, if I should see you often and hear your voice, I should lose all -my strength. I could never resist, and I should lose heaven for you and -me too. Leave me, and I will never, never forget to pray for you; and -go quickly too, for it is time for my grandmother to come home, and she -would be so angry,--she would never believe I had not been doing wrong, -and perhaps she would make me marry somebody that I do not wish to. She -has threatened that many times; but I beg her to leave me free to go to -my sweet home in the convent and my dear Mother Theresa." - -"They shall never marry you against your will, little Agnes, I pledge -you my knightly word. I will protect you from that. Promise me, dear, -that, if ever you be man's wife, you will be mine. Only promise me -that, and I will go." - -"Will you?" said Agnes, in an ecstasy of fear and apprehension, in -which there mingled some strange troubled gleams of happiness. "Well, -then, I will. Ah! I hope it is no sin!" - -"Believe me, dearest, it is not," said the knight. "Say it again,--say, -that I may hear it,--say, 'If ever I am man's wife, I will be -thine,'--say it, and I will go." - -"Well, then, my Lord, if ever I am man's wife, I will be thine," said -Agnes. "But I will be no man's wife. My heart and hand are promised -elsewhere. Come, now, my Lord, your word must be kept." - -"Let me put this ring on your finger, lest you forget," said the -cavalier. "It was my mother's ring, and never during her lifetime heard -anything but prayers and hymns. It is saintly, and worthy of thee." - -"No, my Lord, I may not. Grandmother would inquire about it. I cannot -keep it; but fear not my forgetting; I shall never forget you." - -"Will you ever want to see me, Agnes?" - -"I hope not, since it is not best. But you do not go." - -"Well, then, farewell, my little wife! farewell, till I claim thee!" -said the cavalier, as he kissed her hand, and vaulted over the wall. - -"How strange that I cannot make him understand!" said Agnes, when he -was gone. "I must have sinned, I must have done wrong; but I have been -trying all the while to do right. Why would he stay so, and look at me -so with those deep eyes? I was very hard with him,--very! I trembled -for him, I was so severe; and yet it has not discouraged him enough. -How strange that he would call me so, after all, when I explained to -him I never could marry! Must I tell all this to Father Francesco? -How dreadful! How he looked at me before! How he trembled and turned -away from me! What will he think now? Ah, me! why must I tell _him_? -If I could only confess to my mother Theresa, that would be easier. We -have a mother in heaven to hear us; why should we not have a mother on -earth? Father Francesco frightens me so! His eyes burn me! They seem to -burn into my soul, and he seems angry with me sometimes, and sometimes -looks at me so strangely! Dear, blessed Mother," she said, kneeing at -the shrine, "help thy little child! I do not want to do wrong: I want -to do right. Oh that I could come and live with thee!" - -Poor Agnes! a new experience had opened in her heretofore tranquil -life, and her day was one of conflict. Do what she would, the words -that had been spoken to her in the morning would return to her mind, -and sometimes she awoke with a shock of guilty surprise at finding she -had been dreaming over what the cavalier said to her of living with -him alone, in some clear, high, purple solitude of those beautiful -mountains which she remembered as an enchanted dream of her childhood. -Would he really always love her, then, always go with her to prayers -and mass and sacrament, and be reconciled to the Church, and should -she indeed have the joy of feeling that this noble soul was led back -to heavenly peace through her? Was not this better than a barren life -of hymns and prayers in a cold convent? Then the very voice that said -these words, that voice of veiled strength and manly daring, that spoke -with such a gentle pleading, and yet such an undertone of authority, -as if he had a right to claim her for himself,--she seemed to feel the -tones of that voice in every nerve;--and then the strange thrilling -pleasure of thinking that he loved her so. Why should he, this strange, -beautiful knight? Doubtless he had seen splendid high-born ladies,--he -had seen even queens and princesses,--and what could he find to like in -her, a poor little peasant? Nobody ever thought so much of her before, -and he was so unhappy without her;--it was strange he should be; but -he said so, and it must be true. After all, Father Francesco might be -mistaken about his being wicked. On the whole, she felt sure he was -mistaken, at least in part. Uncle Antonio did not seem to be so much -shocked at what she told him; he knew the temptations of men better, -perhaps, because he did not stay shut up in one convent, but traveled -all about, preaching and teaching. If only he could see him, and talk -with him, and make him a good Christian,--why, then, there would be no -further need of her; and Agnes was surprised to find what a dreadful, -dreary blank appeared before her when she thought of this. Why should -she wish him to remember her, since she never could be his?--and yet -nothing seemed so dreadful as that he should forget her. So the poor -little innocent fly beat and fluttered in the mazes of that enchanted -web, where thousands of her frail sex have beat and fluttered before. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE MONK AND THE CAVALIER - - -Father Antonio had been down through the streets of the old town of -Sorrento, searching for the young stonecutter, and finding him had -spent some time in enlightening him as to the details of the work he -wished him to execute. - -He found him not so easily kindled into devotional fervors as he had -fondly imagined, nor could all his most devout exhortations produce one -quarter of the effect upon him that resulted from the discovery that -it was the fair Agnes who originated the design and was interested in -its execution. Then did the large black eyes of the youth kindle into -something of sympathetic fervor, and he willingly promised to do his -very best at the carving. - -"I used to know the fair Agnes well, years ago," he said, "but of late -she will not even look at me; yet I worship her none the less. Who can -help it that sees her? I don't think she is so hard-hearted as she -seems; but her grandmother and the priests won't so much as allow her -to lift up her eyes when one of us young fellows goes by. Twice these -five years past have I seen her eyes, and then it was when I contrived -to get near the holy water when there was a press round it of a saint's -day, and I reached some to her on my finger, and then she smiled upon -me and thanked me. Those two smiles are all I have had to live on for -all this time. Perhaps, if I work very well, she will give me another, -and perhaps she will say, 'Thank you, my good Pietro!' as she used to, -when I brought her birds' eggs or helped her across the ravine, years -ago." - -"Well, my brave boy, do your best," said the monk, "and let the shrine -be of the fairest white marble. I will be answerable for the expense; I -will beg it of those who have substance." - -"So please you, holy father," said Pietro, "I know of a spot, a little -below here on the coast, where was a heathen temple in the old days; -and one can dig therefrom long pieces of fair white marble, all covered -with heathen images. I know not whether your Reverence would think them -fit for Christian purposes." - -"So much the better, boy! so much the better!" said the monk, heartily. -"Only let the marble be fine and white, and it is as good as converting -a heathen any time to baptize it to Christian uses. A few strokes -of the chisel will soon demolish their naked nymphs and other such -rubbish, and we can carve holy virgins, robed from head to foot in all -modesty, as becometh saints." - -"I will get my boat and go down this very afternoon," said Pietro; -"and, sir, I hope I am not making too bold in asking you, when you see -the fair Agnes, to present unto her this lily, in memorial of her old -playfellow." - -"That I will, my boy! And now I think of it, she spoke kindly of -you as one that had been a companion in her childhood, but said her -grandmother would not allow her to speak to you now." - -"Ah, that is it!" said Pietro. "Old Elsie is a fierce old kite, with -strong beak and long claws, and will not let the poor girl have any -good of her youth. Some say she means to marry her to some rich old -man, and some say she will shut her up in a convent, which I should say -was a sore hurt and loss to the world. There are a plenty of women, -whom nobody wants to look at, for that sort of work; and a beautiful -face is a kind of psalm which makes one want to be good." - -"Well, well, my boy, work well and faithfully for the saints on this -shrine, and I dare promise you many a smile from this fair maiden; for -her heart is set upon the glory of God and his saints, and she will -smile on any one who helps on the good work. I shall look in on you -daily for a time, till I see the work well started." - -So saying, the old monk took his leave. Just as he was passing out of -the house, some one brushed rapidly by him, going down the street. As -he passed, the quick eye of the monk recognized the cavalier whom he -had seen in the garden but a few evenings before. It was not a face and -form easily forgotten, and the monk followed him at a little distance -behind, resolving, if he saw him turn in anywhere, to follow and crave -an audience of him. - -Accordingly, as he saw the cavalier entering under the low arch that -led to his hotel, he stepped up and addressed him with a gesture of -benediction. - -"God bless you, my son!" - -"What would you with me, father?" said the cavalier, with a hasty and -somewhat suspicious glance. - -"I would that you would give me an audience of a few moments on some -matters of importance," said the monk, mildly. - -The tones of his voice seemed to have excited some vague remembrance in -the mind of the cavalier; for he eyed him narrowly, and seemed trying -to recollect where he had seen him before. Suddenly a light appeared to -flash upon his mind; for his whole manner became at once more cordial. - -"My good father," he said, "my poor lodging and leisure are at your -service for any communication you may see fit to make." - -So saying, he led the way up the damp, ill-smelling stone staircase, -and opened the door of the deserted room where we have seen him once -before. Closing the door, and seating himself at the one rickety table -which the room afforded, he motioned to the monk to be seated also; -then taking off his plumed hat, he threw it negligently on the table -beside him, and passing his white, finely formed hand through the black -curls of his hair, he tossed them carelessly from his forehead, and, -leaning his chin in the hollow of his hand, fixed his glittering eyes -on the monk in a manner that seemed to demand his errand. - -"My Lord," said the monk, in those gentle, conciliating tones which -were natural to him, "I would ask a little help of you in regard of a -Christian undertaking which I have here in hand. The dear Lord hath -put it into the heart of a pious young maid of this vicinity to erect -a shrine to the honor of our Lady and her dear Son in this gorge of -Sorrento, hard by. It is a gloomy place in the night, and hath been -said to be haunted by evil spirits; and my fair niece, who is full of -all holy thoughts, desired me to draw the plan for this shrine, and, so -far as my poor skill may go, I have done so. See, here, my Lord, are -the drawings." - -The monk laid them down on the table, his pale cheek flushing with a -faint glow of artistic enthusiasm and pride, as he explained to the -young man the plan and drawings. - -The cavalier listened courteously, but without much apparent interest, -till the monk drew from his portfolio a paper and said,-- - -"This, my Lord, is my poor and feeble conception of the most sacred -form of our Lady, which I am to paint for the centre of the shrine." - -He laid down the paper, and the cavalier, with a sudden exclamation, -snatched it up, looking at it eagerly. - -"It is she!" he said; "it is her very self!--the divine Agnes,--the -lily flower,--the sweet star,--the only one among women!" - -"I see you have recognized the likeness," said the monk, blushing. -"I know it hath been thought a practice of doubtful edification to -represent holy things under the image of aught earthly; but when any -mortal seems especially gifted with a heavenly spirit outshining in the -face, it may be that our Lady chooses that person to reveal herself in." - -The cavalier was gazing so intently on the picture that he scarcely -heard the apology of the monk; he held it up, and seemed to study it -with a long admiring gaze. - -"You have great skill with your pencil, my father," he said; "one would -not look for such things from under a monk's hood." - -"I belong to the San Marco in Florence, of which you may have heard," -said Father Antonio, "and am an unworthy disciple of the traditions of -the blessed Angelico, whose visions of heavenly things are ever before -us; and no less am I a disciple of the renowned Savonarola, of whose -fame all Italy hath heard before now." - -"Savonarola?" said the other, with eagerness,--"he that makes these -vile miscreants that call themselves Pope and cardinals tremble? All -Italy, all Christendom, is groaning and stretching out the hand to him -to free them from these abominations. My father, tell me of Savonarola: -how goes he, and what success hath he?" - -"My son, it is now many months since I left Florence; since which time -I have been sojourning in by-places, repairing shrines and teaching the -poor of the Lord's flock, who are scattered and neglected by the idle -shepherds, who think only to eat the flesh and warm themselves with the -fleece of the sheep for whom the Good Shepherd gave his life. My duties -have been humble and quiet; for it is not given to me to wield the -sword of rebuke and controversy, like my great master." - -"And you have not heard, then," said the cavalier, eagerly, "that they -have excommunicated him?" - -"I knew that was threatened," said the monk, "but I did not think it -possible that it could befall a man of such shining holiness of life, -so signally and openly owned of God that the very gifts of the first -Apostles seem revived in him." - -"Does not Satan always hate the Lord?" said the cavalier. "Alexander -and his councils are possessed of the Devil, if ever men were,--and -are sealed as his children by every abominable wickedness. The Devil -sits in Christ's seat, and hath stolen his signet-ring, to seal decrees -against the Lord's own followers. What are Christian men to do in such -case?" - -The monk sighed and looked troubled. - -"It is hard to say," he answered. "So much I know,--that before I left -Florence our master wrote to the King of France touching the dreadful -state of things at Rome, and tried to stir him up to call a general -council of the Church. I much fear me this letter may have fallen into -the hands of the Pope." - -"I tell you, father," said the young man, starting up and laying his -hand on his sword, "we must fight! It is the sword that must decide -this matter! Was not the Holy Sepulchre saved from the Infidels by the -sword?--and once more the sword must save the Holy City from worse -infidels than the Turks. If such doings as these are allowed in the -Holy City, another generation there will be no Christians left on -earth. Alexander and Caesar Borgia and the Lady Lucrezia are enough to -drive religion from the world. They make us long to go back to the -traditions of our Roman fathers,--who were men of cleanly and honorable -lives and of heroic deeds, scorning bribery and deceit. They honored -God by noble lives, little as they knew of Him. But these men are a -shame to the mothers that bore them." - -"You speak too truly, my son," said the monk. "Alas! the creation -groaneth and travaileth in pain with these things. Many a time and oft -have I seen our master groaning and wrestling with God on this account. -For it is to small purpose that we have gone through Italy preaching -and stirring up the people to more holy lives, when from the very -hill of Zion, the height of the sanctuary, come down these streams of -pollution. It seems as if the time had come that the world could bear -it no longer." - -"Well, if it come to the trial of the sword, as come it must," said -the cavalier, "say to your master that Agostino Sarelli has a band of -one hundred tried men and an impregnable fastness in the mountains, -where he may take refuge, and where they will gladly hear the Word of -God from pure lips. They call us robbers,--us who have gone out from -the assembly of robbers, that we might lead honest and cleanly lives. -There is not one among us that hath not lost houses, lands, brothers, -parents, children, or friends through their treacherous cruelty. There -be those whose wives and sisters have been forced into the Borgia -harem; there be those whose children have been tortured before their -eyes,--those who have seen the fairest and dearest slaughtered by these -hell-hounds, who yet sit in the seat of the Lord and give decrees in -the name of Christ. Is there a God? If there be, why is He silent?" - -"Yea, my son, there is a God," said the monk; "but His ways are not as -ours. A thousand years in His sight are but as yesterday, as a watch in -the night. He shall come, and shall not keep silence." - -"Perhaps you do not know, father," said the young man, "that I, too, -am excommunicated. I am excommunicated, because, Caesar Borgia having -killed my oldest brother, and dishonored and slain my sister, and -seized on all our possessions, and the Pope having protected and -confirmed him therein, I declare the Pope to be not of God, but of the -Devil. I will not submit to him, nor be ruled by him; and I and my -fellows will make good our mountains against him and his crew with such -right arms as the good Lord hath given us." - -"The Lord be with you, my son!" said the monk; "and the Lord bring His -Church out of these deep waters! Surely, it is a lovely and beautiful -Church, made dear and precious by innumerable saints and martyrs who -have given their sweet lives up willingly for it; and it is full of -records of righteousness, of prayers and alms and works of mercy that -have made even the very dust of our Italy precious and holy. Why hast -Thou abandoned this vine of Thy planting, O Lord? The boar out of the -wood doth waste it; the wild beast of the field doth devour it. Return, -we beseech Thee, and visit this vine of Thy planting!" - -The monk clasped his hands and looked upward pleadingly, the tears -running down his wasted cheeks. Ah, many such strivings and prayers -in those days went up from silent hearts in obscure solitudes, that -wrestled and groaned under that mighty burden which Luther at last -received strength to heave from the heart of the Church. - -"Then, father, you do admit that one may be banned by the Pope, and may -utterly refuse and disown him, and yet be a Christian?" - -"How can I otherwise?" said the monk. "Do I not see the greatest saint -this age or any age has ever seen under the excommunication of the -greatest sinner? Only, my son, let me warn you. Become not irreverent -to the true Church, because of a false usurper. Reverence the -sacraments, the hymns, the prayers all the more for this sad condition -in which you stand. What teacher is more faithful in these respects -than my master? Who hath more zeal for our blessed Lord Jesus, and a -more living faith in Him? Who hath a more filial love and tenderness -towards our blessed Mother? Who hath more reverent communion with all -the saints than he? Truly, he sometimes seems to me to walk encompassed -by all the armies of heaven,--such a power goes forth in his words, and -such a holiness in his life." - -"Ah," said Agostino, "would I had such a confessor! The sacraments -might once more have power for me, and I might cleanse my soul from -unbelief." - -"Dear son," said the monk, "accept a most unworthy, but sincere -follower of this holy prophet, who yearns for thy salvation. Let me -have the happiness of granting to thee the sacraments of the Church, -which, doubtless, are thine by right as one of the flock of the Lord -Jesus. Come to me some day this week in confession, and thereafter thou -shalt receive the Lord within thee, and be once more united to Him." - -"My good father," said the young man, grasping his hand, and much -affected, "I will come. Your words have done me good; but I must think -more of them. I will come soon; but these things cannot be done without -pondering; it will take some time to bring my heart into charity with -all men." - -The monk rose up to depart, and began to gather up his drawings. - -"For this matter, father," said the cavalier, throwing several gold -pieces upon the table, "take these, and as many more as you need ask -for your good work. I would willingly pay any sum," he added, while a -faint blush rose to his cheek, "if you would give me a copy of this. -Gold would be nothing in comparison with it." - -"My son," said the monk, smiling, "would it be to thee an image of an -earthly or a heavenly love?" - -"Of both, father," said the young man. "For that dear face has been -more to me than prayer or hymn; it has been even as a sacrament to me, -and through it I know not what of holy and heavenly influences have -come to me." - -"Said I not well," said the monk, exulting, "that there were those on -whom our Mother shed such grace that their very beauty led heavenward? -Such are they whom the artist looks for, when he would adorn a shrine -where the faithful shall worship. Well, my son, I must use my poor art -for you; and as for gold, we of our convent take it not except for the -adorning of holy things, such as this shrine." - -"How soon shall it be done?" said the young man, eagerly. - -"Patience, patience, my Lord! Rome was not built in a day, and our art -must work by slow touches; but I will do my best. But wherefore, my -Lord, cherish this image?" - -"Father, are you of near kin to this maid?" - -"I am her grandmother's only brother." - -"Then I say to you, as the nearest of her male kin, that I seek this -maid in pure and honorable marriage; and she hath given me her promise, -that, if ever she be wife of mortal man, she will be mine." - -"But she looks not to be wife of any man," said the monk; "so, at -least, I have heard her say; though her grandmother would fain marry -her to a husband of her choosing. 'T is a willful woman, is my sister -Elsie, and a worldly,--not easy to persuade, and impossible to drive." - -"And she hath chosen for this fair angel some base peasant churl who -will have no sense of her exceeding loveliness? By the saints, if it -come to this, I will carry her away with the strong arm!" - -"That is not to be apprehended just at present. Sister Elsie is -dotingly fond of the girl, which hath slept in her bosom since infancy." - -"And why should I not demand her in marriage of your sister?" said the -young man. - -"My Lord, you are an excommunicated man, and she would have horror -of you. It is impossible; it would not be to edification to make the -common people judges in such matters. It is safest to let their faith -rest undisturbed, and that they be not taught to despise ecclesiastical -censures. This could not be explained to Elsie; she would drive you -from her doors with her distaff, and you would scarce wish to put your -sword against it. Besides, my Lord, if you were not excommunicated, you -are of noble blood, and this alone would be a fatal objection with my -sister, who hath sworn on the holy cross that Agnes shall never love -one of your race." - -"What is the cause of this hatred?" - -"Some foul wrong which a noble did her mother," said the monk; "for -Agnes is of gentle blood on her father's side." - -"I might have known it," said the cavalier to himself; "her words and -ways are unlike anything in her class. Father," he added, touching his -sword, "we soldiers are fond of cutting all Gordian knots, whether of -love or religion, with this. The sword, father, is the best theologian, -the best casuist. The sword rights wrongs and punishes evil doers, and -some day the sword may cut the way out of this embarrass also." - -"Gently, my son! gently!" said the monk; "nothing is lost by patience. -See how long it takes the good Lord to make a fair flower out of a -little seed; and He does all quietly, without bluster. Wait on Him a -little in peacefulness and prayer, and see what He will do for thee." - -"Perhaps you are right, my father," said the cavalier, cordially. -"Your counsels have done me good, and I shall seek them further. But -do not let them terrify my poor Agnes with dreadful stories of the -excommunication that hath befallen me. The dear saint is breaking -her good little heart for my sins, and her confessor evidently hath -forbidden her to speak to me or look at me. If her heart were left -to itself, it would fly to me like a little tame bird, and I would -cherish it forever; but now she sees sin in every innocent, womanly -thought,--poor little dear child-angel that she is!" - -"Her confessor is a Franciscan," said the monk, who, good as he was, -could not escape entirely from the ruling prejudice of his order, "and -from what I know of him, I should think might be unskillful in what -pertaineth to the nursing of so delicate a lamb. It is not every one to -whom is given the gift of rightly directing souls." - -"I'd like to carry her off from him!" said the cavalier, between his -teeth. "I will, too, if he is not careful!" Then he added aloud, -"Father, Agnes is mine,--mine by the right of the truest worship and -devotion that man could ever pay to woman,--mine because she loves -me. For I know she loves me; I know it far better than she knows it -herself, the dear, innocent child! and I will not have her torn from me -to waste her life in a lonely, barren convent, or to be the wife of a -stolid peasant. I am a man of my word, and I will vindicate my right to -her in the face of God and man." - -"Well, well, my son, as I said before, patience,--one thing at a time. -Let us say our prayers and sleep to-night, to begin with, and to-morrow -will bring us fresh counsel." - -"Well, my father, you will be for me in this matter?" said the young -man. - -"My son, I wish you all happiness; and if this be for your best good -and that of my dear niece, I wish it. But, as I said, there must be -time and patience. The way must be made clear. I will see how the case -stands; and you may be sure, when I can in good conscience, I will -befriend you." - -"Thank you, my father, thank you!" said the young man, bending his knee -to receive the monk's parting benediction. - -"It seems to me not best," said the monk, turning once more, as he was -leaving the threshold, "that you should come to me at present where I -am,--it would only raise a storm that I could not allay; and so great -would be the power of the forces they might bring to bear on the child, -that her little heart might break and the saints claim her too soon." - -"Well, then, father, come hither to me to-morrow at this same hour, if -I be not too unworthy of your pastoral care." - -"I shall be too happy, my son," said the monk. "So be it." - -And he turned from the door just as the bell of the cathedral struck -the Ave Maria, and all in the street bowed in the evening act of -worship. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE MONK'S STRUGGLE - - -The golden sunshine of the spring morning was deadened to a sombre -tone in the shadowy courts of the Capuchin convent. The reddish brown -of the walls was flecked with gold and orange spots of lichen; and -here and there, in crevices, tufts of grass, or even a little bunch of -gold-blooming flowers, looked hardily forth into the shadowy air. A -covered walk, with stone arches, inclosed a square filled with dusky -shrubbery. There were tall, funereal cypresses, whose immense height -and scraggy profusion of decaying branches showed their extreme old -age. There were gaunt, gnarled olives, with trunks twisted in immense -serpent folds, and boughs wreathed and knotted into wild, unnatural -contractions, as if their growth had been a series of spasmodic -convulsions, instead of a calm and gentle development of Nature. There -were overgrown clumps of aloes, with the bare skeletons of former -flower-stalks standing erect among their dusky horns or lying rotting -on the ground beside them. The place had evidently been intended for -the culture of shrubbery and flowers, but the growth of the trees had -long since so intercepted the sunlight and fresh air that not even -grass could find root beneath their branches. The ground was covered -with a damp green mould, strewn here and there with dead boughs, or -patched with tufts of fern and lycopodium, throwing out their green -hairy roots into the moist soil. A few half-dead roses and jasmines, -remnants of former days of flowers, still maintained a struggling -existence, but looked wan and discouraged in the effort, and seemed -to stretch and pine vaguely for a freer air. In fact, the whole garden -might be looked upon as a sort of symbol of the life by which it was -surrounded,--a life stagnant, unnatural, and unhealthy, cut off from -all those thousand stimulants to wholesome development which are -afforded by the open plain of human existence, where strong natures -grow distorted in unnatural efforts, though weaker ones find in its -lowly shadows a congenial refuge. - -We have given the brighter side of conventual life in the days we are -describing: we have shown it as often a needed shelter of woman's -helplessness during ages of political uncertainty and revolution; we -have shown it as the congenial retreat where the artist, the poet, the -student, and the man devoted to ideas found leisure undisturbed to -develop themselves under the consecrating protection of religion. The -picture would be unjust to truth, did we not recognize, what, from our -knowledge of human nature, we must expect, a conventual life of far -less elevated and refined order. We should expect that institutions -which guaranteed to each individual a livelihood, without the necessity -of physical labor or the responsibility of supporting a family, might -in time come to be incumbered with many votaries in whom indolence and -improvidence were the only impelling motives. In all ages of the world -the unspiritual are the majority,--the spiritual the exceptions. It was -to the multitude that Jesus said, "Ye seek me not because ye saw the -miracles, but because ye did eat and were filled,"--and the multitude -has been much of the same mind from that day to this. - -The convent of which we speak had been for some years under the lenient -rule of the jolly Brother Girolamo,--an easy, wide-spread, loosely -organized body, whose views of the purpose of human existence were -decidedly Anacreontic. Fasts he abominated,--night-prayers he found -unfavorable to his constitution; but he was a judge of olives and good -wine, and often threw out valuable hints in his pastoral visits on -the cooking of macaroni, for which he had himself elaborated a savory -recipe; and the cellar and larder of the convent, during his pastorate, -presented so many urgent solicitations to conventual repose, as to -threaten an inconvenient increase in the number of others. The monks -in his time lounged in all the sunny places of the convent like so -many loose sacks of meal, enjoying to the full the _dolce far niente_ -which seems to be the universal rule of Southern climates. They ate -and drank and slept and snored; they made pastoral visits through the -surrounding community which were far from edifying; they gambled, and -tippled, and sang most unspiritual songs; and keeping all the while -their own private pass-key to Paradise tucked under their girdles, -were about as jolly a set of sailors to Eternity as the world had to -show. In fact, the climate of Southern Italy and its gorgeous scenery -are more favorable to voluptuous ecstasy than to the severe and grave -warfare of the true Christian soldier. The sunny plains of Capua -demoralized the soldiers of Hannibal, and it was not without a reason -that ancient poets made those lovely regions the abode of Sirens whose -song maddened by its sweetness, and of a Circe who made men drunk with -her sensual fascinations, till they became sunk to the form of brutes. -Here, if anywhere, is the lotos-eater's paradise,--the purple skies, -the enchanted shores, the soothing gales, the dreamy mists, which all -conspire to melt the energy of the will, and to make existence either a -half doze of dreamy apathy or an awaking of mad delirium. - -It was not from dreamy, voluptuous Southern Italy that the religious -progress of the Italian race received any vigorous impulses. These came -from more northern and more mountainous regions, from the severe, clear -heights of Florence, Perugia, and Assisi, where the intellectual and -the moral both had somewhat of the old Etruscan earnestness and gloom. - -One may easily imagine the stupid alarm and helpless confusion of -these easy-going monks, when their new Superior came down among them -hissing with a white heat from the very hottest furnace fires of a new -religious experience, burning and quivering with the terrors of the -world to come,--pale, thin, eager, tremulous, and yet with all the -martial vigor of the former warrior, and all the habits of command of a -former princely station. His reforms gave no quarter to right or left; -sleepy monks were dragged out to midnight prayers, and their devotions -enlivened with vivid pictures of hell-fire and ingenuities of eternal -torment enough to stir the blood of the most torpid. There was to be -no more gormandizing, no more wine-bibbing; the choice old wines were -placed under lock and key for the use of the sick and poor in the -vicinity; and every fast of the Church, and every obsolete rule of the -order, were revived with unsparing rigor. It is true, they hated their -new Superior with all the energy which laziness and good-living had -left them, but they every soul of them shook in their sandals before -him; for there is a true and established order of mastery among human -beings, and when a man of enkindled energy and intense will comes among -a flock of irresolute commonplace individuals, he subjects them to -himself by a sort of moral paralysis similar to what a great, vigorous -gymnotus distributes among a fry of inferior fishes. The bolder ones, -who made motions of rebellion, were so energetically swooped upon, and -consigned to the discipline of dungeon and bread-and-water, that less -courageous natures made a merit of siding with the more powerful party, -mentally resolving to carry by fraud the points which they despaired of -accomplishing by force. - -On the morning we speak of, two monks might have been seen lounging on -a stone bench by one of the arches, looking listlessly into the sombre -garden-path we have described. The first of these, Father Anselmo, was -a corpulent fellow, with an easy swing of gait, heavy animal features, -and an eye of shrewd and stealthy cunning: the whole air of the man -expressed the cautious, careful voluptuary. The other, Father Johannes, -was thin, wiry, and elastic, with hands like birds' claws, and an eye -that reminded one of the crafty cunning of a serpent. His smile was a -curious blending of shrewdness and malignity. He regarded his companion -from time to time obliquely from the corners of his eyes, to see what -impression his words were making, and had a habit of jerking himself up -in the middle of a sentence and looking warily round to see if any one -were listening, which indicated habitual distrust. - -"Our holy Superior is out a good while this morning," he said, at -length. - -The observation was made in the smoothest and most silken tones, but -they carried with them such a singular suggestion of doubt and inquiry -that they seemed like an accusation. - -"Ah?" replied the other, perceiving evidently some intended undertone -of suspicion lurking in the woods, but apparently resolved not to -commit himself to his companion. - -"Yes," said the first; "the zeal of the house of the Lord consumes him, -the blessed man!" - -"Blessed man!" echoed the second, rolling up his eyes, and giving a -deep sigh, which shook his portly proportions so that they quivered -like jelly. - -"If he goes on in this way much longer," continued Father Johannes, -"there will soon be very little mortal left of him; the saints will -claim him." - -Father Anselmo gave something resembling a pious groan, but darted -meanwhile a shrewd observant glance at the speaker. - -"What would become of the convent, were he gone?" said Father Johannes. -"All these blessed reforms which he has brought about would fall back; -for our nature is fearfully corrupt, and ever tends to wallow in the -mire of sin and pollution. What changes hath he wrought in us all! To -be sure, the means were sometimes severe. I remember, brother, when he -had you under ground for more than ten days. My heart was pained for -you; but I suppose you know that it was necessary, in order to bring -you to that eminent state of sanctity where you now stand." - -The heavy, sensual features of Father Anselmo flushed up with some -emotion, whether of anger or of fear it was hard to tell; but he gave -one hasty glance at his companion, which, if a glance could kill, would -have struck him dead, and then there fell over his countenance, like a -veil, an expression of sanctimonious humility as he replied,-- - -"Thank you for your sympathy, dearest brother. I remember, too, how I -felt for you that week when you were fed only on bread and water, and -had to take it on your knees off the floor, while the rest of us sat at -table. How blessed it must be to have one's pride brought down in that -way! When our dear, blessed Superior first came, brother, you were as -a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke, but now what a blessed change! It -must give you so much peace! How you must love him!" - -"I think we love him about equally," said Father Johannes, his dark, -thin features expressing the concentration of malignity. "His labors -have been blessed among us. Not often does a faithful shepherd meet so -loving a flock. I have been told that the great Peter Abelard found far -less gratitude. They tried to poison him in the most holy wine." - -"How absurd!" interrupted Father Anselmo, hastily; "as if the blood of -the Lord, as if our Lord himself could be made poison!" - -"Brother, it is a fact," insisted the former, in tones silvery with -humility and sweetness. - -"A fact that the most holy blood can be poisoned?" replied the other, -with horror evidently genuine. - -"I grieve to say, brother," said Father Johannes, "that in my profane -and worldly days I tried that experiment on a dog, and the poor brute -died in five minutes. Ah, brother," he added, observing that his obese -companion was now thoroughly roused, "you see before you the chief -of sinners. Judas was nothing to me; and yet, such are the triumphs -of grace, I am an unworthy member of this most blessed and pious -brotherhood; but I do penance daily in sackcloth and ashes for my -offense." - -"But, Brother Johannes, was it really so? did it really happen?" -inquired Father Anselmo, looking puzzled. "Where, then, is our faith?" - -"Doth our faith rest on human reason, or on the evidence of our senses, -Brother Anselmo? I bless God that I have arrived at that state where I -can adoringly say, 'I believe, because it is impossible.' Yea, brother, -I know it to be a fact that the ungodly have sometimes destroyed holy -men, like our Superior, who could not be induced to taste wine for -any worldly purpose, by drugging the blessed cup; so dreadful are the -ragings of Satan in our corrupt nature!" - -"I can't see into that," said Father Anselmo, still looking confused. - -"Brother," answered Father Johannes, "permit an unworthy sinner to -remind you that you must not try to see into anything; all that is -wanted of you in our most holy religion is to shut your eyes and -believe; all things are possible to the eye of faith. Now, humanly -speaking," he added, with a peculiarly meaning look, "who would believe -that you kept all the fasts of our order, and all the extraordinary -ones which it hath pleased our blessed Superior to lay upon us, as you -surely do? A worldling might swear, to look at you, that such flesh -and color must come in some way from good meat and good wine; but we -remember how the three children throve on the pulse and rejected the -meat from the king's table." - -The countenance of Father Anselmo expressed both anger and alarm at -this home-thrust, and the changes did not escape the keen eye of Father -Johannes, who went on. - -"I directed the eyes of our holy father upon you as a striking example -of the benefits of abstemious living, showing that the days of miracles -are not yet past in the Church, as some skeptics would have us believe. -He seemed to study you attentively. I have no doubt he will honor you -with some more particular inquiries,--the blessed saint!" - -Father Anselmo turned uneasily on his seat and stealthily eyed his -companion, to see, if possible, how much real knowledge was expressed -by his words, and then answered on quite another topic. - -"How this garden has fallen to decay! We miss old Father Angelo -sorely, who was always trimming and cleaning it. Our Superior is too -heavenly-minded to have much thought for earthly things, and so it -goes." - -Father Johannes watched this attempt at diversion with a glitter of -stealthy malice, and, seeming to be absorbed in contemplation, broke -out again exactly where he had left off on the unwelcome subject. - -"I mind me now, Brother Anselmo, that, when you came out of your cell -to prayers, the other night, your utterance was thick, and your eyes -heavy and watery, and your gait uncertain. One would swear that you -had been drunken with new wine; but we knew it was all the effect of -fasting and devout contemplation, which inebriates the soul with holy -raptures, as happened to the blessed Apostles on the day of Pentecost. -I remarked the same to our holy father, and he seemed to give it -earnest heed, for I saw him watching you through all the services. How -blessed is such watchfulness!" - -"The Devil take him!" said Father Anselmo, suddenly thrown off his -guard; but checking himself, he added, confusedly,--"I mean"-- - -"I understand you, brother," said Father Johannes; "it is a motion -of the old nature not yet entirely subdued. A little more of the -discipline of the lower vaults, which you have found so precious, will -set all that right." - -"You would not inform against me?" said Father Anselmo, with an -expression of alarm. - -"It would be my duty, I suppose," said Father Johannes, with a sigh; -"but, sinner that I am, I never could bring my mind to such proceedings -with the vigor of our blessed father. Had I been Superior of the -convent, as was talked of, how differently might things have proceeded! -I should have erred by a sinful laxness. How fortunate that it was he, -instead of such a miserable sinner as myself!" - -"Well, tell me, then, Father Johannes,--for your eyes are shrewd as a -lynx's,--_is_ our good Superior so perfect as he seems? or does he have -his little private comforts sometimes, like the rest of us? Nobody, -you know, can stand it to be always on the top round of the ladder to -Paradise. For my part, between you and me, I never believed all that -story they read to us so often about Saint Simeon Stylites, who passed -so many years on the top of a pillar and never came down. Trust me, the -old boy found his way down sometimes, when all the world was asleep, -and got somebody to do duty for him meantime, while he took a little -something comfortable. Is it not so?" - -"I am told to believe, and I do believe," said Father Johannes, casting -down his eyes, piously; "and, dear brother, it ill befits a sinner like -me to reprove; but it seemeth to me as if you make too much use of the -eyes of carnal inquiry. Touching the life of our holy father, I cannot -believe the most scrupulous watch can detect anything in his walk or -conversation other than appears in his profession. His food is next to -nothing,--a little chopped spinach or some bitter herb cooked without -salt for ordinary days, and on fast days he mingles this with ashes, -according to a saintly rule. As for sleep, I believe he does without -it; for at no time of the night, when I have knocked at the door of -his cell, have I found him sleeping. He is always at his prayers or -breviary. His cell hath only a rough, hard board for a bed, with a log -of rough wood for a pillow; yet he complains of that as tempting to -indolence." - -Father Anselmo shrugged his fat shoulders, ruefully. - -"It's all well enough," he said, "for those that want to take this hard -road to Paradise; but why need they drive the flock up with them?" - -"True enough, Brother Anselmo," said Father Johannes; "but the flock -will rejoice in it in the end, doubtless. I understand he is purposing -to draw yet stricter the reins of discipline. We ought to be thankful." - -"Thankful? We can't wink but six times a week now," said Father -Anselmo; "and by and by he won't let us wink at all." - -"Hist! hush! here he comes," said Father Johannes. "What ails him? he -looks wild, like a man distraught." - -In a moment more, in fact, Father Francesco strode hastily through the -corridor, with his deep-set eyes dilated and glittering, and a vivid -hectic flush on his hollow cheeks. He paid no regard to the salutation -of the obsequious monks; in fact, he seemed scarcely to see them, but -hurried in a disordered manner through the passages and gained the room -of his cell, which he shut and locked with a violent clang. - -"What has come over him now?" said Father Anselmo. - -Father Johannes stealthily followed some distance, and then stood -with his lean neck outstretched and his head turned in the direction -where the Superior had disappeared. The whole attitude of the man, -with his acute glittering eye, might remind one of a serpent making an -observation before darting after his prey. - -"Something is working him," he said to himself; "what may it be?" - -Meanwhile that heavy oaken door had closed on a narrow cell, bare of -everything which could be supposed to be a matter of convenience in -the abode of a human being. A table of the rudest and most primitive -construction was garnished with a skull, whose empty eye-holes and -grinning teeth were the most conspicuous objects in the room. Behind -this stood a large crucifix, manifestly the work of no common master, -and bearing evident traces in its workmanship of Florentine art: it -was, perhaps, one of the relics of the former wealth of the nobleman -who had buried his name and worldly possessions in this living -sepulchre. A splendid manuscript breviary, richly illuminated, lay open -on the table; and the fair fancy of its flowery letters, the lustre of -gold and silver on its pages, formed a singular contrast to the squalid -nakedness of everything else in the room. This book, too, had been a -family heirloom; some lingering shred of human and domestic affection -sheltered itself under the protection of religion in making it the -companion of his self-imposed life of penance and renunciation. - -Father Francesco had just returned from the scene in the confessional -we have already described. That day had brought to him one of those -pungent and vivid inward revelations which sometimes overset in a -moment some delusion that has been the cherished growth of years. -Henceforth the reign of self-deception was past,--there was no more -self-concealment, no more evasion. He loved Agnes,--he knew it; he -said it over and over again to himself with a stormy intensity of -energy; and in this hour the whole of his nature seemed to rise in -rebellion against the awful barriers which hemmed in and threatened -this passion. He now saw clearly that all that he had been calling -fatherly tenderness, pastoral zeal, Christian unity, and a thousand -other evangelical names, was nothing more nor less than a passion that -had gone to the roots of existence and absorbed into itself all that -there was of him. Where was he to look for refuge? What hymn, what -prayer, had he not blent with her image? It was this that he had given -to her as a holy lesson,--it was that that she had spoken of to him as -the best expression of her feelings. This prayer he had explained to -her; he remembered just the beautiful light in her eyes, which were -fixed on his so trustingly. How dear to him had been that unquestioning -devotion, that tender, innocent humility!--how dear, and how dangerous! - -We have read of flowing rivulets, wandering peacefully without ripple -or commotion, so long as no barrier stayed their course, suddenly -chafing in angry fury when an impassable dam was thrown across their -waters. So any affection, however genial and gentle in its own nature, -may become an ungovernable, ferocious passion, by the intervention -of fatal obstacles in its course. In the case of Father Francesco, -the sense of guilt and degradation fell like a blight over all the -past that had been so ignorantly happy. He thought he had been living -on manna, but found it poison. Satan had been fooling him, leading -him on blindfold, and laughing at his simplicity, and now mocked at -his captivity. And how nearly had he been hurried by a sudden and -overwhelming influence to the very brink of disgrace! He felt himself -shiver and grow cold to think of it. A moment more, and he had blasted -that pure ear with forbidden words of passion; and even now he -remembered, with horror, the look of grave and troubled surprise in -those confiding eyes, that had always looked up to him trustingly, as -to God. A moment more, and he had betrayed the faith he taught her, -shattered her trust in the holy ministry, and perhaps imperiled her -salvation. He breathed a sigh of relief when he thought of it,--he had -not betrayed himself, he had not fallen in her esteem, he still stood -on that sacred vantage-ground where his power over her was so great, -and where at least he possessed her confidence and veneration. There -was still time for recollection, for self-control, for a vehement -struggle which should set all right again: but, alas! how shall a man -struggle who finds his whole inner nature boiling in furious rebellion -against the dictates of his conscience,--self against self? - -It is true, also, that no passions are deeper in their hold, more -pervading and more vital to the whole human being, than those that -make their first entrance through the higher nature, and, beginning -with a religious and poetic ideality, gradually work their way through -the whole fabric of the human existence. From grosser passions, whose -roots lie in the senses, there is always a refuge in man's loftier -nature. He can cast them aside with contempt, and leave them as one -whose lower story is flooded can remove to a higher loft, and live -serenely with a purer air and wider prospect. But to love that is born -of ideality, of intellectual sympathy, of harmonies of the spiritual -and immortal natures, of the very poetry and purity of the soul, if it -be placed where reason and religion forbid its exercise and expression, -what refuge but the grave,--what hope but that wide eternity where all -human barriers fall, all human relations end, and love ceases to be a -crime? A man of the world may struggle by change of scene, place, and -employment. He may put oceans between himself and the things that -speak of what he desires to forget. He may fill the void in his life -with the stirring excitement of the battle-field, or the whirl of -travel from city to city, or the press of business and care. But what -help is there for him whose life is tied down to the narrow sphere of -the convent,--to the monotony of a bare cell, to the endless repetition -of the same prayers, the same chants, the same prostrations, especially -when all that ever redeemed it from monotony has been that image and -that sympathy which conscience now bids him forget? - -When Father Francesco precipitated himself into his cell and locked -the door, it was with the desperation of a man who flies from a mortal -enemy. It seemed to him that all eyes saw just what was boiling within -him,--that the wild thoughts that seemed to scream their turbulent -importunities in his ears were speaking so loud that all the world -would hear. He should disgrace himself before the brethren whom he had -so long been striving to bring to order and to teach the lessons of -holy self-control. He saw himself pointed at, hissed at, degraded, by -the very men who had quailed before his own reproofs; and scarcely, -when he had bolted the door behind him, did he feel himself safe. -Panting and breathless, he fell on his knees before the crucifix, and, -bowing his head in his hands, fell forward upon the floor. As a spent -wave melts at the foot of a rock, so all his strength passed away, and -he lay awhile in a kind of insensibility,--a state in which, though -consciously existing, he had no further control over his thoughts and -feelings. In that state of dreamy exhaustion his mind seemed like a -mirror, which, without vitality or will of its own, simply lies still -and reflects the objects that may pass over it. As clouds sailing in -the heavens cast their images, one after another, on the glassy floor -of a waveless sea, so the scenes of his former life drifted in vivid -pictures athwart his memory. He saw his father's palace,--the wide, -cool, marble halls,--the gardens resounding with the voices of falling -waters. He saw the fair face of his mother, and played with the jewels -upon her hands. He saw again the picture of himself, in all the flush -of youth and health, clattering on horseback through the streets of -Florence with troops of gay young friends, now dead to him as he to -them. He saw himself in the bowers of gay ladies, whose golden hair, -lustrous eyes, and siren wiles came back shivering and trembling in -the waters of memory in a thousand undulating reflections. There were -wild revels,--orgies such as Florence remembers with shame to this day. -There was intermingled the turbulent din of arms,--the haughty passion, -the sudden provocation, the swift revenge. And then came the awful -hour of conviction, the face of that wonderful man whose preaching -had stirred all souls; and then those fearful days of penance,--that -darkness of the tomb,--that dying to the world,--those solemn vows, and -the fearful struggles by which they had been followed. - -"Oh, my God!" he cried, "is it all in vain?--so many prayers? so many -struggles?--and shall I fail of salvation at last?" - -He seemed to himself as a swimmer, who, having exhausted his last gasp -of strength in reaching the shore, is suddenly lifted up on a cruel -wave and drawn back into the deep. There seemed nothing for him but to -fold his arms and sink. - -For he felt no strength now to resist, he felt no wish to conquer; -he only prayed that he might lie there and die. It seemed to him -that the love which possessed him and tyrannized over his very being -was a doom,--a curse sent upon him by some malignant fate with whose -power it was vain to struggle. He detested his work,--he detested his -duties,--he loathed his vows; and there was not a thing in his whole -future to which he looked forward otherwise than with the extreme -of aversion, except one, to which he clung with a bitter and defiant -tenacity,--the spiritual guidance of Agnes. Guidance!--he laughed -aloud, in the bitterness of his soul, as he thought of this. He was -her guide, her confessor; to him she was bound to reveal every change -of feeling; and this love that he too well perceived rising in her -heart for another,--he would wring from her own confessions the means -to repress and circumvent it. If she could not be his, he might at -least prevent her from belonging to any other,--he might at least keep -her always within the sphere of his spiritual authority. Had he not a -right to do this? had he not a right to cherish an evident vocation,--a -right to reclaim her from the embrace of an excommunicated infidel, and -present her as a chaste bride at the altar of the Lord? Perhaps, when -that was done, when an irrevocable barrier should separate her from -all possibility of earthly love, when the awful marriage-vow should -have been spoken which should seal her heart for heaven alone, he might -recover some of the blessed calm which her influence once brought over -him, and these wild desires might cease, and these feverish pulses be -still. - -Such were the vague images and dreams of the past and future that -floated over his mind, as he lay in a heavy sort of lethargy on -the floor of his cell, and hour after hour passed away. It grew -afternoon, and the radiance of evening came on. The window of the cell -overlooked the broad Mediterranean, all one blue glitter of smiles and -sparkles. The white-winged boats were flitting lightly to and fro, -like gauzy-winged insects in the summer air; the song of the fishermen -drawing their nets on the beach floated cheerily upward. Capri lay -like a half-dissolved opal in shimmering clouds of mist, and Naples -gleamed out pearly clear in the purple distance. Vesuvius, with its -cloud-spotted sides, its garlanded villas and villages, its silvery -crown of vapor, seemed a warm-hearted and genial old giant lying down -in his gorgeous repose, and holding all things on his heaving bosom in -a kindly embrace. - -So was the earth flooded with light and glory, that the tide poured -into the cell, giving the richness of an old Venetian painting -to its bare and squalid furniture. The crucifix glowed along all -its sculptured lines with rich golden hues. The breviary, whose -many-colored leaves fluttered as the wind from the sea drew inward, -was yet brighter in its gorgeous tints. It seemed a sort of devotional -butterfly perched before the grinning skull, which was bronzed by the -enchanted light into warmer tones of color, as if some remembrance -of what once it saw and felt came back upon it. So, also, the bare, -miserable board which served for the bed, and its rude pillow, were -glorified. A stray sunbeam, too, fluttered down on the floor like -a pitying spirit, to light up that pale, thin face, whose classic -outlines had now a sharp, yellow setness, like that of swooning or -death; it seemed to linger compassionately on the sunken, wasted -cheeks, on the long black lashes that fell over the deep hollows -beneath the eyes like a funereal veil. Poor man! lying crushed and -torn, like a piece of rockweed wrenched from its rock by a storm, and -thrown up withered upon the beach! - -From the leaves of the breviary there depends, by a fragment of gold -braid, a sparkling something that wavers and glitters in the evening -light. It is a cross of the cheapest and simplest material, that once -belonged to Agnes. She lost it from her rosary at the confessional, -and Father Francesco saw it fall, yet would not warn her of the loss, -for he longed to possess something that had belonged to her. He made -it a mark to one of her favorite hymns; but she never knew where it -had gone. Little could she dream, in her simplicity, what a power -she held over the man who seemed to her an object of such awful -veneration. Little did she dream that the poor little tinsel cross had -such a mighty charm with it, and that she herself, in her childlike -simplicity, her ignorant innocence, her peaceful tenderness and trust, -was raising such a turbulent storm of passion in the heart which she -supposed to be above the reach of all human changes. - -And now, through the golden air, the Ave Maria is sounding from the -convent-bells, and answered by a thousand tones and echoes from -the churches of the old town, and all Christendom gives a moment's -adoring pause to celebrate the moment when an angel addressed to a -mortal maiden words that had been wept and prayed for during thousands -of years. Dimly they sounded through his ear, in that half-deadly -trance,--not with plaintive sweetness and motherly tenderness, but like -notes of doom and vengeance. He felt rebellious impulses within, which -rose up in hatred against them, and all that recalled to his mind the -faith which seemed a tyranny, and the vows which appeared to him such a -hopeless and miserable failure. - -But now there came other sounds nearer and more earthly. His quickened -senses perceive a busy patter of sandaled feet outside his cell, and -a whispering of consultation,--and then the silvery, snaky tones of -Father Johannes, which had that oily, penetrative quality which passes -through all substances with such distinctness. - -"Brethren," he said, "I feel bound in conscience to knock. Our blessed -Superior carries his mortifications altogether too far. His faithful -sons must beset him with filial inquiries." - -The condition in which Father Francesco was lying, like many abnormal -states of extreme exhaustion, seemed to be attended with a mysterious -quickening of the magnetic forces and intuitive perceptions. He felt -the hypocrisy of those tones, and they sounded in his ear like the -suppressed hiss of a deadly serpent. He had always suspected that this -man hated him to the death; and he felt now that he was come with his -stealthy tread and his almost supernatural power of prying observation, -to read the very inmost secrets of his heart. He knew that he longed -for nothing so much as the power to hurl him from his place and to -reign in his stead; and the instinct of self-defense roused him. He -started up as one starts from a dream, waked by a whisper in the ear, -and, raising himself on his elbow, looked towards the door. - -A cautious rap was heard, and then a pause. Father Francesco smiled -with a peculiar and bitter expression. The rap became louder, more -energetic, stormy at last, intermingled with vehement calls on his name. - -Father Francesco rose at length, settled his garments, passed his -hands over his brow, and then, composing himself to an expression of -deliberate gravity, opened the door and stood before them. - -"Holy father," said Father Johannes, "the hearts of your sons have -been saddened. A whole day have you withdrawn your presence from our -devotions. We feared you might have fainted, your pious austerities so -often transcend the powers of Nature." - -"I grieve to have saddened the hearts of such affectionate sons," said -the Superior, fixing his eye keenly on Father Johannes; "but I have -been performing a peculiar office of prayer to-day for a soul in deadly -peril, and have been so absorbed therein that I have known nothing that -passed. There is a soul among us, brethren," he added, "that stands at -this moment so near to damnation that even the most blessed Mother of -God is in doubt for its salvation, and whether it can be saved at all, -God only knows." - -These words, rising up from a tremendous groundswell of repressed -feeling, had a fearful, almost supernatural earnestness that made the -body of the monks tremble. Most of them were conscious of living but -a shabby, shambling, dissembling life, evading in every possible way -the efforts of their Superior to bring them up to the requirements of -their profession; and therefore, when these words were bolted out among -them with such a glowing intensity, every one of them began mentally -feeling for the key of his own private and interior skeleton-closet, -and wondering which of their ghastly occupants was coming to light now. - -Father Johannes alone was unmoved, because he had long since ceased to -have a conscience. A throb of moral pulsation had for years been an -impossibility to the dried and hardened fibre of his inner nature. He -was one of those real, genuine, thorough unbelievers in all religion -and all faith and all spirituality, whose unbelief grows only more -callous by the constant handling of sacred things. Ambition was the -ruling motive of his life, and every faculty was sharpened into such -acuteness under its action that his penetration seemed at times almost -preternatural. - -While he stood with downcast eyes and hands crossed upon his breast, -listening to the burning words which remorse and despair wrung from his -Superior, he was calmly and warily studying to see what could be made -of the evident interior conflict that convulsed him. Was there some -secret sin? Had that sanctity at last found the temptation that was -more than a match for it? And what could it be? - -To a nature with any strong combative force there is no tonic like -the presence of a secret and powerful enemy, and the stealthy glances -of Father Johannes's serpent eye did more towards restoring Father -Francesco to self-mastery than the most conscientious struggles could -have done. He grew calm, resolved, determined. Self-respect was dear to -him,--and dear to him no less that reflection of self-respect which a -man reads in other eyes. He would not forfeit his conventual honor, or -bring a stain on his order, or, least of all, expose himself to the -scoffing eye of a triumphant enemy. Such were the motives that now came -to his aid, while as yet the whole of his inner nature rebelled at the -thought that he must tear up by the roots and wholly extirpate this -love that seemed to have sent its fine fibres through every nerve of -his being. "No!" he said to himself, with a fierce interior rebellion, -"_that_ I will not do! Right or wrong, come heaven, come hell, I -_will_ love her: and if lost I must be, lost I will be!" And while -this determination lasted, prayer seemed to him a mockery. He dared -not pray alone now, when most he needed prayer; but he moved forward -with dignity towards the convent chapel to lead the vesper devotions -of his brethren. Outwardly he was calm and rigid as a statue; but as -he commenced the service, his utterance had a terrible meaning and -earnestness that were felt even by the most drowsy and leaden of his -flock. It is singular how the dumb, imprisoned soul, locked within the -walls of the body, sometimes gives such a piercing power to the tones -of the voice during the access of a great agony. The effect is entirely -involuntary and often against the most strenuous opposition of the -will, but one sometimes hears another reading or repeating words with -an intense vitality, a living force, which tells of some inward anguish -or conflict of which the language itself gives no expression. - -Never were the long-drawn intonations of the chants and prayers of -the Church pervaded by a more terrible, wild fervor than the Superior -that night breathed into them. They seemed to wail, to supplicate, to -combat, to menace, to sink in despairing pauses of helpless anguish, -and anon to rise in stormy agonies of passionate importunity; and the -monks quailed and trembled, they scarce knew why, with forebodings of -coming wrath and judgment. - -In the evening exhortation, which it had been the Superior's custom -to add to the prayers of the vesper-hour, he dwelt with a terrible and -ghastly eloquence on the loss of the soul. - -"Brethren," he said, "believe me, the very first hour of a damned -spirit in hell will outweigh all the prosperities of the most -prosperous life. If you could gain the whole world, that one hour of -hell would outweigh it all; how much more such miserable, pitiful -scraps and fragments of the world as they gain who for the sake of a -little fleshly ease neglect the duties of a holy profession! There is -a broad way to hell through a convent, my brothers, where miserable -wretches go who have neither the spirit to serve the Devil wholly, nor -the patience to serve God; there be many shaven crowns that gnash their -teeth in hell to-night,--many a monk's robe is burning on its owner in -living fire, and the devils call him a fool for choosing to be damned -in so hard a way. 'Could you not come here by some easier road than a -cloister?' they ask. 'If you must sell your soul, why did you not get -something for it?' Brethren, there be devils waiting for some of us; -they are laughing at your paltry shifts and evasions, at your efforts -to make things easy,--for they know how it will all end at last. Rouse -yourselves! Awake! Salvation is no easy matter,--nothing to be got -between sleeping and waking. Watch, pray, scourge the flesh, fast, -weep, bow down in sackcloth, mingle your bread with ashes, if by any -means ye may escape the everlasting fire!" - -"Bless me!" said Father Anselmo, when the services were over, casting -a half-scared glance after the retreating figure of the Superior as -he left the chapel, and drawing a long breath; "it's enough to make -one sweat to hear him go on. What has come over him? Anyhow, I'll give -myself a hundred lashes this very night: something must be done." - -"Well," said another, "I confess I did hide a cold wing of fowl in the -sleeve of my gown last fast-day. My old aunt gave it to me, and I was -forced to take it for relation's sake; but I'll do so no more, as I'm a -living sinner I'll do a penance this very night." - -Father Johannes stood under one of the arches that looked into the -gloomy garden, and, with his hands crossed upon his breast, and his -cold, glittering eye fixed stealthily now on one and now on another, -listened with an ill-disguised sneer to these hasty evidences of fear -and remorse in the monks, as they thronged the corridor on the way to -their cells. Suddenly turning to a young brother who had lately joined -the convent, he said to him,-- - -"And what of the pretty Clarice, my brother?" - -The blood flushed deep into the pale cheek of the young monk, and his -frame shook with some interior emotion as he answered,-- - -"She is recovering." - -"And she sent for thee to shrive her?" - -"My God!" said the young man, with an imploring, wild expression in his -dark eyes, "she did; but I would not go." - -"Then Nature is still strong," said Father Johannes, pitilessly eyeing -the young man. - -"When will it ever die?" said the stripling, with a despairing gesture; -"it heeds neither heaven nor hell." - -"Well, patience, boy! if you have lost an earthly bride, you have -gained a heavenly one. The Church is our espoused in white linen. Bless -the Lord, without ceasing, for the exchange." - -There was an inexpressible mocking irony in the tones in which this -was said, that made itself felt to the finely vitalized spirit of -the youth, though to all the rest it sounded like the accredited -average pious talk which is more or less the current coin of religious -organizations. - -Now no one knows through what wanton deviltry Father Johannes broached -this painful topic with the poor youth; but he had a peculiar faculty, -with his smooth tones and his sanctimonious smiles, of thrusting -red-hot needles into any wounds which he either knew or suspected under -the coarse woolen robes of his brethren. He appeared to do it in all -coolness, in a way of psychological investigation. - -He smiled, as the youth turned away, and a moment after, started as if -a thought had suddenly struck him. - -"I have it!" he said to himself. "There may be a woman at the bottom -of this discomposure of our holy father; for he is wrought upon by -something to the very bottom of his soul. I have not studied human -nature so many years for nothing. Father Francesco hath been much -in the guidance of women. His preaching hath wrought upon them, and -perchance among them. Aha!" he said to himself, as he paced up and -down. "I have it! I'll try an experiment upon him!" - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE SERPENT'S EXPERIMENT - - -Father Francesco sat leaning his head on his hand by the window of -his cell, looking out upon the sea as it rose and fell, with the -reflections of the fast coming stars glittering like so many jewels -on its breast. The glow of evening had almost faded, but there was a -wan, tremulous light from the moon, and a clearness produced by the -reflection of such an expanse of water, which still rendered objects in -his cell quite discernible. - -In the terrible denunciations and warnings just uttered, he had been -preaching to himself, striving to bring a force on his own soul by -which he might reduce its interior rebellion to submission; but, alas! -when was ever love cast out by fear? He knew not as yet the only remedy -for such sorrow,--that there is a love celestial and divine, of which -earthly love in its purest form is only the sacramental symbol and -emblem, and that this divine love can by God's power so outflood human -affections as to bear the soul above all earthly idols to its only -immortal rest. This great truth rises like a rock amid stormy seas, -and many is the sailor struggling in salt and bitter waters who cannot -yet believe it is to be found. A few saints like Saint Augustine had -reached it,--but through what buffetings, what anguish! - -At this moment, however, there was in the heart of the father one of -those collapses which follow the crisis of some mortal struggle. He -leaned on the window-sill, exhausted and helpless. - -Suddenly, a kind of illusion of the senses came over him, such as is -not infrequent to sensitive natures in severe crises of mental anguish. -He thought he heard Agnes singing, as he had sometimes heard her when -he had called in his pastoral ministrations at the little garden and -paused awhile outside that he might hear her finish a favorite hymn, -which, like a shy bird, she sung all the more sweetly for thinking -herself alone. - -Quite as if they were sung in his ear, and in her very tones, he heard -the words of Saint Bernard, which we have already introduced to our -reader:-- - - "Jesu dulcis memoria, - Dans vera cordi gaudia: - Sed super mel et omnia - Ejus dulcis praesentia. - - "Jesu, spes poenitentibus, - Quam pius es petentibus, - Quam bonus te quaerentibus, - Sed quis invenientibus!" - -Soft and sweet and solemn was the illusion, as if some spirit breathed -them with a breath of tenderness over his soul; and he threw himself -with a burst of tears before the crucifix. - -"O Jesus, where, then, art Thou? Why must I thus suffer? She is not the -one altogether lovely; it is Thou,--Thou, her Creator and mine. Why, -why cannot I find Thee? Oh, take from my heart all other love but Thine -alone!" - -Yet even this very prayer, this very hymn, were blent with the -remembrance of Agnes; for was it not she who first had taught him the -lesson of heavenly love? Was not she the first one who had taught him -to look upward to Jesus other than as an avenging judge? Michel Angelo -has embodied in a fearful painting, which now deforms the Sistine -Chapel, that image of stormy vengeance which a religion debased by -force and fear had substituted for the tender, good shepherd of -earlier Christianity. It was only in the heart of a lowly maiden that -Christ had been made manifest to the eye of the monk, as of old he was -revealed to the world through a virgin. And how could he, then, forget -her, or cease to love her, when every prayer and hymn, every sacred -round of the ladder by which he must climb, was so full of memorials -of her? While crying and panting for the supreme, the divine, the -invisible love, he found his heart still craving the visible one,--the -one so well known, revealing itself to the senses, and bringing with it -the certainty of visible companionship. - -As he was thus kneeling and wrestling with himself, a sudden knock -at his door startled him. He had made it a point, never, at any hour -of the day or night, to deny himself to a brother who sought him for -counsel, however disagreeable the person and however unreasonable the -visit. He therefore rose and unbolted the door, and saw Father Johannes -standing with folded arms and downcast head, in an attitude of composed -humility. - -"What would you with me, brother?" he asked, calmly. - -"My father, I have a wrestling of mind for one of our brethren whose -case I would present to you." - -"Come in, my brother," said the Superior. At the same time he lighted -a little iron lamp, of antique form, such as are still in common use -in that region, and seating himself on the board which served for his -couch, made a motion to Father Johannes to be seated also. - -The latter sat down, eyeing, as he did so, the whole interior of the -apartment, so far as it was revealed by the glimmer of the taper. - -"Well, my son," said Father Francesco, "what is it?" - -"I have my doubts of the spiritual safety of Brother Bernard," said -Father Johannes. - -"Wherefore?" asked the Superior, briefly. - -"Holy father, you are aware of the history of the brother, and of the -worldly affliction that drove him to this blessed profession?" - -"I am," replied the Superior, with the same brevity. - -"He narrated it to me fully," said Father Johannes. "The maiden he was -betrothed to was married to another in his absence on a long journey, -being craftily made to suppose him dead." - -"I tell you I know the circumstances," said the Superior. - -"I merely recalled them, because, moved doubtless by your sermon, he -dropped words to me to-night which led me to suppose that this sinful, -earthly love was not yet extirpated from his soul. Of late the woman -was sick and nigh unto death, and sent for him." - -"But he did not go?" interposed Father Francesco. - -"No, he did not,--grace was given him thus far; but he dropped words -to me to the effect, that in secret he still cherished the love of -this woman; and the awful words your Reverence has been speaking to us -to-night have moved me with fear for the youth's soul, of the which I, -as an elder brother, have had some charge, and I came to consult with -you as to what help there might be for him." - -Father Francesco turned away his head a moment and there was a pause; -at last he said, in a tone that seemed like the throb of some deep, -interior anguish,-- - -"The Lord help him!" - -"Amen!" said Father Johannes, taking keen note of the apparent emotion. - -"You must have experience in these matters, my father," he added, after -a pause,--"so many hearts have been laid open to you. I would crave to -know of you what you think is the safest and most certain cure for this -love of woman, if once it hath got possession of the heart." - -"_Death!_" said Father Francesco, after a solemn pause. - -"I do not understand you," said Father Johannes. - -"My son," said Father Francesco, rising up with an air of authority, -"you do _not_ understand,--there is nothing in you by which you should -understand. This unhappy brother hath opened his case to me, and I -have counseled him all I know of prayer and fastings and watchings and -mortifications. Let him persevere in the same; and if all these fail, -the good Lord will send the other in His own time. There is an end to -all things in this life, and that end shall certainly come at last. Bid -him persevere and hope in this. And now, brother," added the Superior, -with dignity, "if you have no other query, time flies and eternity -comes on,--go, watch and pray, and leave me to my prayers, also." - -He raised his hand with a gesture of benediction, and Father Johannes, -awed in spite of himself, felt impelled to leave the apartment. - -"Is it so, or is it not?" he said. "I cannot tell. He did seem to wince -and turn away his head when I proposed the case; but then he made fight -at last. I cannot tell whether I have got any advantage or not; but -patience! we shall see!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -ELSIE PUSHES HER SCHEME - - -The good Father Antonio returned from his conference with the cavalier -with many subjects for grave pondering. This man, as he conjectured, -so far from being an enemy either of Church or State, was in fact in -many respects in the same position with his revered master,--as nearly -so as the position of a layman was likely to resemble that of an -ecclesiastic. His denial of the Visible Church, as represented by the -Pope and cardinals, sprang not from an irreverent, but from a reverent -spirit. To accept _them_ as exponents of Christ and Christianity was to -blaspheme and traduce both, and therefore he only could be counted in -the highest degree Christian who stood most completely opposed to them -in spirit and practice. - -His kind and fatherly heart was interested in the brave young nobleman. -He sympathized fully with the situation in which he stood, and he even -wished success to his love; but then how was he to help him with Agnes, -and above all with her old grandmother, without entering on the awful -task of condemning and exposing that sacred authority which all the -Church had so many years been taught to regard as infallibly inspired? -Long had all the truly spiritual members of the Church who gave ear -to the teachings of Savonarola felt that the nearer they followed -Christ the more open was their growing antagonism to the Pope and the -Cardinals; but still they hung back from the responsibility of inviting -the people to an open revolt. - -Father Antonio felt his soul deeply stirred with the news of the -excommunication of his saintly master; and he marveled, as he tossed on -his restless bed through the night, how he was to meet the storm. He -might have known, had he been able to look into a crowded assembly in -Florence about this time, when the unterrified monk thus met the news -of his excommunication:-- - -"There have come decrees from Rome, have there? They call me a son of -perdition. Well, thus may you answer: He to whom you give this name -hath neither favorites nor concubines, but gives himself solely to -preaching Christ. His spiritual sons and daughters, those who listen -to his doctrine, do not pass their time in infamous practices. They -confess, they receive the communion, they live honestly. This man gives -himself up to exalt the Church of Christ: you to destroy it. The time -approaches for opening the secret chamber: we will give but one turn -of the key, and there will come out thence such an infection, such a -stench of this city of Rome, that the odor shall spread through all -Christendom, and all the world shall be sickened." - -But Father Antonio was of himself wholly unable to come to such a -courageous result, though capable of following to the death the master -who should do it for him. His was the true artist nature, as unfit to -deal with rough human forces as a bird that flies through the air is -unfitted to a hand-to-hand grapple with the armed forces of the lower -world. There is strength in these artist natures. Curious computations -have been made of the immense muscular power that is brought into -exercise when a swallow skims so smoothly through the blue sky; but -the strength is of a kind unadapted to mundane uses, and needs the -ether for its display. Father Antonio could create the beautiful; he -could warm, could elevate, could comfort; and when a stronger nature -went before him, he could follow with an unquestioning tenderness -of devotion: but he wanted the sharp, downright power of mind that -could cut and cleave its way through the rubbish of the past, when -its institutions, instead of a commodious dwelling, had come to be a -loathsome prison. Besides, the true artist has ever an enchanted island -of his own; and when this world perplexes and wearies him, he can sail -far away and lay his soul down to rest, as Cytherea bore the sleeping -Ascanius far from the din of battle, to sleep on flowers and breathe -the odor of a hundred undying altars to Beauty. - -Therefore, after a restless night, the good monk arose in the first -purple of the dawn, and instinctively betook him to a review of his -drawings for the shrine, as a refuge from troubled thought. He took -his sketch of the Madonna and Child into the morning twilight and -began meditating thereon, while the clouds that lined the horizon were -glowing rosy purple and violet with the approaching day. - -"See there!" he said to himself, "yonder clouds have exactly the rosy -purple of the cyclamen which my little Agnes loves so much;--yes, I -am resolved that this cloud on which our Mother standeth shall be of -a cyclamen color. And there is that star, like as it looked yesterday -evening, when I mused upon it. Methought I could see our Lady's clear -brow, and the radiance of her face, and I prayed that some little power -might be given to show forth that which transports me." - -And as the monk plied his pencil, touching here and there, and -elaborating the outlines of his drawing, he sung,-- - - "Ave, Maris Stella, - Dei mater alma, - Atque semper virgo, - Felix coeli porta! - - "Virgo singularis, - Inter omnes mitis, - Nos culpis solutos - Mites fac et castos! - - "Vitam praesta puram, - Iter para tutum, - Ut videntes Jesum - Semper collaetemur!"[7] - - [7] Hail, thou Star of Ocean, - Thou forever virgin, - Mother of the Lord! - Blessed gate of Heaven, - Take our heart's devotion! - - Virgin one and only, - Meekest 'mid them all, - From our sins set free, - Make us pure like thee, - Freed from passion's thrall! - - Grant that in pure living, - Through safe paths below, - Forever seeing Jesus, - Rejoicing we may go! - -As the monk sung, Agnes soon appeared at the door. - -"Ah, my little bird, you are there!" he said looking up. - -"Yes," said Agnes, coming forward, and looking over his shoulder at his -work. - -"Did you find that young sculptor?" she asked. - -"That I did,--a brave boy, too, who will row down the coast and dig us -marble from an old heathen temple, which we will baptize into the name -of Christ and his Mother." - -"Pietro was always a good boy," said Agnes. - -"Stay," said the monk, stepping into his little sleeping room; "he sent -you this lily; see, I have kept it in water all night." - -"Poor Pietro, that was good of him!" said Agnes. "I would thank him, if -I could. But, uncle," she added, in a hesitating voice, "did you see -anything of that--other one?" - -"That I did, child,--and talked long with him." - -"Ah, uncle, is there any hope for him?" - -"Yes, there is hope,--great hope. In fact, he has promised to receive -me again, and I have hopes of leading him to the sacrament of -confession, and after that"-- - -"And then the Pope will forgive him!" said Agnes, joyfully. - -The face of the monk suddenly fell; he was silent, and went on -retouching his drawing. - -"Do you not think he will?" said Agnes, earnestly. "You said the Church -was ever ready to receive the repentant." - -"The True Church will receive him," said the monk, evasively; "yes, my -little one, there is no doubt of it." - -"And it is not true that he is captain of a band of robbers in the -mountains?" said Agnes. "May I tell Father Francesco that it is not so?" - -"Child, this young man hath suffered a grievous wrong and injustice; -for he is lord of an ancient and noble estate, out of which he hath -been driven by the cruel injustice of a most wicked and abominable man, -the Duke di Valentinos,[8] who hath caused the death of his brothers -and sisters, and ravaged the country around with fire and sword, so -that he hath been driven with his retainers to a fortress in the -mountains." - - [8] Caesar Borgia was created Duc de Valentinois by Louis XII. - of France. - -"But," said Agnes, with flushed cheeks, "why does not our blessed -Father excommunicate this wicked duke? Surely this knight hath erred; -instead of taking refuge in the mountains, he ought to have fled with -his followers to Rome, where the dear Father of the Church hath a -house for all the oppressed. It must be so lovely to be the father of -all men, and to take in and comfort all those who are distressed and -sorrowful, and to right the wrongs of all that are oppressed, as our -dear Father at Rome doth!" - -The monk looked up at Agnes's clear glowing face with a sort of -wondering pity. - -"Dear little child," he said, "there is a Jerusalem above which is -mother of us all, and these things are done there. - - 'Coelestis urbs Jerusalem, - Beata pacis visio, - Quae celsa de viventibus - Saxis ad astra tolleris - Sponsaeque ritu cingeris - Mille angelorum millibus!'" - -The face of the monk glowed as he repeated this ancient hymn of the -Church,[9] as if the remembrance of that general assembly and church of -the first-born gave him comfort in his depression. - - [9] This very ancient hymn is the fountain-head from which - through various languages have trickled the various hymns - of the Celestial City such as-- - - "Jerusalem, my happy home!" - - and Quarles's-- - - "O mother dear, Jerusalem!" - -Agnes felt perplexed, and looked earnestly at her uncle as he stooped -over his drawing, and saw that there were deep lines of anxiety on his -usually clear, placid face,--a look as of one who struggles mentally -with some untold trouble. - -"Uncle," she said, hesitatingly, "may I tell Father Francesco what you -have been telling me of this young man?" - -"No, my little one,--it were not best. In fact, dear child, there be -many things in his case impossible to explain, even to you;--but he is -not so altogether hopeless as you thought; in truth, I have great hopes -of him. I have admonished him to come here no more, but I shall see him -again this evening." - -Agnes wondered at the heaviness of her own little heart, as her kind -old uncle spoke of his coming there no more. Awhile ago she dreaded his -visits as a most fearful temptation, and thought perhaps he might come -at any hour; now she was sure he would not, and it was astonishing what -a weight fell upon her. - -"Why am I not thankful?" she asked herself. "Why am I not joyful? Why -should I wish to see him again, when I should only he tempted to sinful -thoughts, and when my dear uncle, who can do so much for him, has his -soul in charge? And what is this which is so strange in his case? There -is some mystery, after all,--something, perhaps, which I ought not to -wish to know. Ah, how little can we know of this great wicked world, -and of the reasons which our superiors give for their conduct! It is -ours humbly to obey, without a question or a doubt. Holy Mother, may I -not sin through a vain curiosity or self-will! May I ever say, as thou -didst, 'Behold the handmaid of the Lord! be it unto me according to His -word!'" - -And Agnes went about her morning devotions with fervent zeal, and did -not see the monk as he dropped the pencil, and, covering his face with -his robe, seemed to wrestle in some agony of prayer. - -"Shepherd of Israel," he said, "why hast Thou forgotten this vine of -Thy planting? The boar out of the wood doth waste it, the wild beast -of the field doth devour it. Dogs have encompassed Thy beloved; the -assembly of the violent have surrounded him. How long, O Lord, holy and -true, dost Thou not judge and avenge?" - -"Now, really, brother," said Elsie, coming towards him, and -interrupting his meditations in her bustling, business way, yet -speaking in a low tone that Agnes should not hear, "I want you to -help me with this child in a good common-sense fashion: none of your -high-flying notions about saints and angels, but a little good common -talk for every-day people that have their bread and salt to look after. -The fact is, brother, this girl must be married. I went last night to -talk with Antonio's mother, and the way is all open as well as any -living girl could desire. Antonio is a trifle slow, and the high-flying -hussies call him stupid; but his mother says a better son never -breathed, and he is as obedient to all her orders now as when he was -three years old. And she has laid up plenty of household stuff for him, -and good hard gold pieces to boot: she let me count them myself, and I -showed her that which I had scraped together, and she counted it, and -we agreed that the children that come of such a marriage would come -into the world with something to stand on. Now Agnes is fond of you, -brother, and perhaps it would be well for you to broach the subject. -The fact is, when I begin to talk, she gets her arms round my old neck -and falls to weeping and kissing me at such a rate as makes a fool of -me. If the child would only be rebellious, one could do something; but -this love takes all the stiffness out of one's joints; and she tells -me she never wants a husband, and she will be content to live with me -all her life. The saints know it isn't for my happiness to put her out -of my old arms; but I can't last forever,--my old back grows weaker -every year; and Antonio has strong arms to defend her from all these -roystering fellows who fear neither God nor man, and swoop up young -maids as kites do chickens. And then he is as gentle and manageable as -a this-year ox; Agnes can lead him by the horn,--she will be a perfect -queen over him; for he has been brought up to mind the women." - -"Well, sister," said the monk, "hath our little maid any acquaintance -with this man? Have they ever spoken together?" - -"Not much. I have never brought them to a very close acquaintance; and -that is what is to be done. Antonio is not much of a talker; to tell -the truth, he does not know as much to say as our Agnes: but the man's -place is not to say fine things, but to do the hard work that shall -support the household." - -"Then Agnes hath not even seen him?" - -"Yes, at different times I have bid her regard him, and said to her, -'There goes a proper man and a good Christian,--a man who minds his -work and is obedient to his old mother: such a man will make a right -good husband for some girl some day.'" - -"And did you ever see that her eye followed him with pleasure?" - -"No, neither him nor any other man, for my little Agnes hath no thought -of that kind; but, once married, she will like him fast enough. All -I want is to have you begin the subject, and get it into her head a -little." - -Father Antonio was puzzled how to meet this direct urgency of his -sister. He could not explain to her his own private reasons for -believing that any such attempt would be utterly vain, and only bring -needless distress on his little favorite. He therefore answered,-- - -"My good sister, all such thoughts lie so far out of the sphere of us -monks, that you could not choose a worse person for such an errand. I -have never had any other communings with the child than touching the -beautiful things of my art, and concerning hymns and prayers and the -lovely world of saints and angels, where they neither marry nor are -given in marriage; and so I should only spoil your enterprise, if I -should put my unskillful hand to it." - -"At any rate," said Elsie, "don't you approve of my plan?" - -"I should approve of anything that would make our dear little one safe -and happy, but I would not force the matter against her inclinations. -You will always regret it, if you make so good a child shed one -needless tear. After all, sister, what need of haste? 'Tis a young bird -yet. Why push it out of the nest? When once it is gone, you will never -get it back. Let the pretty one have her little day to play and sing -and be happy. Does she not make this garden a sort of Paradise with her -little ways and her sweet words? Now, my sister, these all belong to -you; but, once she is given to another, there is no saying what may -come. One thing only may you count on with certainty: that these dear -days, when she is all day by your side and sleeps in your bosom all -night, are over,--she will belong to you no more, but to a strange man -who hath neither toiled nor wrought for her, and all her pretty ways -and dutiful thoughts must be for him." - -"I know it--I know it," said Elsie, with a sudden wrench of that -jealous love which is ever natural to strong, passionate natures. "I'm -sure it isn't for my own sake I urge this. I grudge him the girl. After -all, he is but a stupid head. What has he ever done, that such good -fortune should befall him? He ought to fall down and kiss the dust of -my shoes for such a gift, and I doubt me much if he will ever think to -do it. These men think nothing too good for them. I believe, if one -of the crowned saints in heaven were offered them to wife, they would -think it all quite natural, and not a whit less than their requirings." - -"Well, then, sister," said the monk, soothingly, "why press this -matter? why hurry? The poor little child is young; let her frisk like -a lamb, and dance like a butterfly, and sing her hymns every day like -a bright bird. Surely the Apostle saith, 'He that giveth his maid in -marriage doeth well, but he that giveth her not doeth better.'" - -"But I have opened the subject already to old Meta," said Elsie; "and -if I don't pursue it, she will take it into her head that her son is -lightly regarded, and then her back will be up, and one may lose the -chance; and on the whole, considering the money and the fellow, I don't -know a safer way to settle the girl." - -"Well, sister, as I have remarked," said the monk, "I could not order -my speech to propose anything of this kind to a young maid; I should so -bungle that I might spoil all. You must even propose it yourself." - -"I would not have undertaken it," said Elsie, "had I not been -frightened by that hook-nosed old kite of a cavalier that has been -sailing and perching round. We are two lone women here, and the times -are unsettled, and one never knows, that hath so fair a prize, but she -may be carried off, and then no redress from any quarter." - -"You might lodge her in the convent," said the monk. - -"Yes, and then, the first thing I should know, they would have got her -away from me entirely. I have been well pleased to have her much with -the sisters hitherto, because it kept her from hearing the foolish talk -of girls and gallants,--and such a flower would have had every wasp and -bee buzzing round it. But now the time is coming to marry her, I much -doubt these nuns. There's old Jocunda is a sensible woman, who knew -something of the world before she went there,--but the Mother Theresa -knows no more than a baby; and they would take her in, and make her as -white and as thin as that moon yonder now the sun has risen; and little -good should I have of her, for I have no vocation for the convent,--it -would kill me in a week. No,--she has seen enough of the convent for -the present. I will even take the risk of watching her myself. Little -has this gallant seen of her, though he has tried hard enough! But -to-day I may venture to take her down with me." - -Father Antonio felt a little conscience-smitten in listening to these -triumphant assertions of old Elsie; for he knew that she would pour -all her vials of wrath on his head, did she know, that, owing to his -absence from his little charge, the dreaded invader had managed to have -two interviews with her grandchild, on the very spot that Elsie deemed -the fortress of security; but he wisely kept his own counsel, believing -in the eternal value of silence. In truth, the gentle monk lived so -much in the unreal and celestial world of Beauty, that he was by no -means a skillful guide for the passes of common life. Love, other than -that ethereal kind which aspires towards Paradise, was a stranger to -his thoughts, and he constantly erred in attributing to other people -natures and purposes as unworldly and spiritual as his own. Thus had -he fallen, in his utter simplicity, into the attitude of a go-between -protecting the advances of a young lover with the shadow of his monk's -gown, and he became awkwardly conscious that, if Elsie should find out -the whole truth, there would be no possibility of convincing her that -what had been done in such sacred simplicity on all sides was not the -basest manoeuvring. - -Elsie took Agnes down with her to the old stand in the gateway of the -town. On their way, as had probably been arranged, Antonio met them. -We may have introduced him to the reader before, who likely enough has -forgotten by this time our portraiture; so we shall say again, that the -man was past thirty, tall, straight, well-made, even to the tapering of -his well-formed limbs, as are the generality of the peasantry of that -favored region. His teeth were white as sea-pearl; his cheek, though -swarthy, had a deep, healthy flush; and his great velvet black eyes -looked straight out from under their long silky lashes, just as do the -eyes of the beautiful oxen of his country, with a languid, changeless -tranquillity, betokening a good digestion, and a well-fed, kindly -animal nature. He was evidently a creature that had been nourished on -sweet juices and developed in fair pastures, under genial influences -of sun and weather,--one that would draw patiently in harness, if -required, without troubling his handsome head how he came there, and, -his labor being done, would stretch his healthy body to rumination, and -rest with serene, even unreflecting quietude. - -He had been duly lectured by his mother, this morning, on the propriety -of commencing his wooing, and was coming towards them with a bouquet in -his hand. - -"See there," said Elsie, "there is our young neighbor Antonio coming -towards us. There is a youth whom I am willing you should speak to; -none of your ruffian gallants, but steady as an ox at his work, and as -kind at the crib. Happy will the girl be that gets him for a husband!" - -Agnes was somewhat troubled and saddened this morning, and absorbed -in cares quite new to her life before; but her nature was ever kindly -and social, and it had been laid under so many restrictions by her -grandmother's close method of bringing up, that it was always ready to -rebound in favor of anybody to whom she allowed her to show kindness. -So, when the young man stopped and shyly reached forth to her a knot -of scarlet poppies intermingled with bright vetches and wild blue -larkspurs, she took it graciously, and, frankly beaming a smile into -his face, said,-- - -"Thank you, my good Antonio!" Then fastening them in the front of her -bodice, "There, they are beautiful!" she said, looking up with the -simple satisfaction of a child. - -"They are not half so beautiful as you are," said the young peasant; -"everybody likes you." - -"You are very kind, I am sure," said Agnes. "I like everybody, as far -as grandmamma thinks it best." - -"I am glad of that," said Antonio, "because then I hope you will like -me." - -"Oh, yes, certainly, I do; grandmamma says you are very good, and I -like all good people." - -"Well, then, pretty Agnes," said the young man, "let me carry your -basket." - -"Oh, you don't need to; it does not tire me." - -"But I should like to do something for you," insisted the young man, -blushing deeply. - -"Well, you may, then," said Agnes, who began to wonder at the length -of time her grandmother allowed this conversation to go on without -interrupting it, as she generally had done when a young man was in the -case. Quite to her astonishment, her venerable relative, instead of -sticking as close to her as her shadow, was walking forward very fast -without looking behind. - -"Now, Holy Mother," said that excellent matron, "do help this young man -to bring this affair out straight, and give an old woman, who has had a -world of troubles, a little peace in her old age!" - -Agnes found herself, therefore, quite unusually situated, alone in the -company of a handsome young man, and apparently with the consent of -her grandmother. Some girls might have felt emotions of embarrassment, -or even alarm, at this new situation; but the sacred loneliness and -seclusion in which Agnes had been educated had given her a confiding -fearlessness, such as voyagers have found in the birds of bright -foreign islands which have never been invaded by man. She looked up at -Antonio with a pleased, admiring smile,--much such as she would have -given, if a great handsome stag, or other sylvan companion, had stepped -from the forest and looked a friendship at her through his large liquid -eyes. She seemed, in an innocent, frank way, to like to have him -walking by her, and thought him very good to carry her basket,--though, -as she told him, he need not do it, it did not tire her in the least. - -"Nor does it tire me, pretty Agnes," said he, with an embarrassed -laugh. "See what a great fellow I am,--how strong! Look,--I can bend -an iron bar in my hands! I am as strong as an ox,--and I should like -always to use my strength for you." - -"Should you? How very kind of you! It is very Christian to use one's -strength for others, like the good Saint Christopher." - -"But I would use my strength for you because--I love you, gentle Agnes!" - -"That is right, too," replied Agnes. "We must all love one another, my -good Antonio." - -"You must know what I mean," said the young man. "I mean that I want to -marry you." - -"I am sorry for that, Antonio," replied Agnes, gravely, "because I do -not want to marry you. I am never going to marry anybody." - -"Ah, girls always talk so, my mother told me; but nobody ever heard of -a girl that did not want a husband; that is impossible," said Antonio, -with simplicity. - -"I believe girls generally do, Antonio; but I do not: my desire is to -go to the convent." - -"To the convent, pretty Agnes? Of all things, what should you want -to go to the convent for? You never had any trouble. You are young, -and handsome, and healthy, and almost any of the fellows would think -himself fortunate to get you." - -"I would go there to live for God and pray for souls," said Agnes. - -"But your grandmother will never let you; she means you shall marry me. -I heard her and my mother talking about it last night; and my mother -bade me come on, for she said it was all settled." - -"I never heard anything of it," said Agnes, now for the first time -feeling troubled. "But, my good Antonio, if you really do like me and -wish me well, you will not want to distress me?" - -"Certainly not." - -"Well, it _will_ distress me very, very much, if you persist in wanting -to marry me, and if you say any more on the subject." - -"Is that really so?" said Antonio, fixing his great velvet eyes with an -honest stare on Agnes. - -"Yes, it is so, Antonio; you may rely upon it." - -"But look here, Agnes, are you quite sure? Mother says girls do not -always know their mind." - -"But I know mine, Antonio. Now you really will distress and trouble me -very much, if you say anything more of this sort." - -"I declare, I am sorry for it," said the young man. "Look ye, Agnes, -I did not care half as much about it this morning as I do now. Mother -has been saying this great while that I must have a wife, that she was -getting old; and this morning she told me to speak to you. I thought -you would be all ready,--indeed I did." - -"My good Antonio, there are a great many very handsome girls who would -be glad, I suppose, to marry you. I believe other girls do not feel as -I do. Giulietta used to laugh and tell me so." - -"That Giulietta was a splendid girl," said Antonio. "She used to make -great eyes at me, and try to make me play the fool; but my mother would -not hear of her. Now she has gone off with a fellow to the mountains." - -"Giulietta gone?" - -"Yes, haven't you heard of it? She's gone with one of the fellows of -that dashing young robber-captain that has been round our town so much -lately. All the girls are wild after these mountain fellows. A good, -honest boy like me, that hammers away at his trade, they think nothing -of; whereas one of these fellows with a feather in his cap has only to -twinkle his finger at them, and they are off like a bird." - -The blood rose in Agnes's cheeks at this very unconscious remark; but -she walked along for some time with a countenance of grave reflection. - -They had now gained the street of the city, where old Elsie stood at a -little distance waiting for them. - -"Well, Agnes," said Antonio, "so you really are in earnest?" - -"Certainly I am." - -"Well, then, let us be good friends, at any rate," said the young man. - -"Oh, to be sure, I will," said Agnes, smiling with all the brightness -her lovely face was capable of. "You are a kind, good man, and I like -you very much. I will always remember you kindly." - -"Well, good-by, then," said Antonio, offering his hand. - -"Good-by," said Agnes, cheerfully giving hers. - -Elsie, beholding the cordiality of this parting, comforted herself that -all was right, and ruffled all her feathers with the satisfied pride of -a matron whose family plans are succeeding. - -"After all," she said to herself, "brother was right,--best let young -folks settle these matters themselves. Now see the advantage of such an -education as I have given Agnes! Instead of being betrothed to a good, -honest, forehanded fellow, she might have been losing her poor silly -heart to some of these lords or gallants who throw away a girl as one -does an orange when they have sucked it. Who knows what mischief this -cavalier might have done, if I had not been so watchful? Now let him -come prying and spying about, she will have a husband to defend her. A -smith's hammer is better than an old woman's spindle, any day." - -Agnes took her seat with her usual air of thoughtful gravity, her -mind seeming to be intensely preoccupied, and her grandmother, though -secretly exulting in the supposed cause, resolved not to open the -subject with her till they were at home or alone at night. - -"I have my defense to make to Father Francesco, too," she said to -herself, "for hurrying on this betrothal against his advice; but one -must manage a little with these priests,--the saints forgive me! I -really think sometimes, because they can't marry themselves, they would -rather see every pretty girl in a convent than with a husband. It's -natural enough, too. Father Francesco will be like the rest of the -world: when he can't help a thing, he will see the will of the Lord in -it." - -Thus prosperously the world seemed to go with old Elsie. Meantime, when -her back was turned, as she was kneeling over her basket, sorting out -lemons, Agnes happened to look up, and there, just under the arch of -the gateway, where she had seen him the first time, sat the cavalier -on a splendid horse, with a white feather streaming backward from his -black riding-hat and dark curls. - -He bowed low and kissed his hand to her, and before she knew it her -eyes met his, which seemed to flash light and sunshine all through -her; and then he turned his horse and was gone through the gate, while -she, filled with self-reproach, was taking her little heart to task -for the instantaneous throb of happiness which had passed through -her whole being at that sight. She had not turned away her head nor -said a prayer, as Father Francesco told her to do, because the whole -thing had been sudden as a flash; but now it was gone, she prayed, -"My God, help me not to love him!--let me love Thee alone!" But many -times in the course of the day, as she twisted her flax, she found -herself wondering whither he could be going. Had he really gone to that -enchanted cloud-land, in the old purple Apennines, whither he wanted to -carry her,--gone, perhaps, never to return? That was best. But was he -reconciled with the Church? Was that great, splendid soul that looked -out of those eyes to be forever lost, or would the pious exhortations -of her uncle avail? And then she thought he had said to her, that, if -she would go with him, he would confess and take the sacrament, and be -reconciled with the Church, and so his soul be saved. - -She resolved to tell this to Father Francesco. Perhaps he -would--No,--she shivered as she remembered the severe, withering look -with which the holy father had spoken of him, and the awfulness of his -manner,--he would never consent. And then her grandmother--No, there -was no possibility. - -Meanwhile Agnes's good old uncle sat in the orange-shaded garden, -busily perfecting his sketches; but his mind was distracted, and his -thoughts wandered,--and often he rose, and, leaving his drawings, would -pace up and down the little place, absorbed in earnest prayer. The -thought of his master's position was hourly growing upon him. The real -world with its hungry and angry tide was each hour washing higher and -higher up on the airy shore of the ideal, and bearing the pearls and -enchanted shells of fancy out into its salt and muddy waters. - -"Oh, my master! my father!" he said, "is the martyr's crown of fire -indeed waiting thee? Will God desert His own? But was not Christ -crucified?--and the disciple is not above his master, nor the servant -above his lord. But surely Florence will not consent. The whole city -will make a stand for him;--they are ready, if need be, to pluck out -their eyes and give them to him. Florence will certainly be a refuge -for him. But why do I put confidence in man? In the Lord alone have I -righteousness and strength." - -And the old monk raised the psalm, "_Quare fremunt gentes_," and his -voice rose and fell through the flowery recesses and dripping grottoes -of the old gorge, sad and earnest like the protest of the few and -feeble of Christ's own against the rushing legions of the world. Yet, -as he sang, courage and holy hope came into his soul from the sacred -words,--just such courage as they brought to Luther and to the Puritans -in later times. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE MONK'S DEPARTURE - - -The three inhabitants of the little dove-cot were sitting in their -garden after supper, enjoying the cool freshness. The place was -perfumed with the smell of orange-blossoms, brought out by gentle -showers that had fallen during the latter part of the afternoon, and -all three felt the tranquillizing effects of the sweet evening air. The -monk sat bending over his drawings, resting the frame on which they lay -on the mossy garden-wall, so as to get the latest advantage of the rich -golden twilight which now twinkled through the sky. Agnes sat by him -on the same wall,--now glancing over his shoulder at his work, and now -leaning thoughtfully on her elbow, gazing pensively down into the deep -shadows of the gorge, or out where the golden light of evening streamed -under the arches of the old Roman bridge, to the wide, bright sea -beyond. - -Old Elsie bustled about with unusual content in the lines of her -keen, wrinkled face. Already her thoughts were running on household -furnishing and bridal finery. She unlocked an old chest, which from its -heavy, quaint carvings of dark wood must have been some relic of the -fortunes of her better days, and, taking out of a little till of the -same a string of fine, silvery pearls, held them up admiringly to the -evening light. A splendid pair of pearl ear-rings also was produced -from the same receptacle. - -She sighed at first, as she looked at these things, and then smiled -with rather an air of triumph, and, coming to where Agnes reclined on -the wall, held them up playfully before her. - -"See here, little one!" she said. - -"Oh, what pretty things!--where did they come from?" said Agnes, -innocently. - -"Where did they? Sure enough! Little did you or any one else know old -Elsie had things like these! But she meant her little Agnes should hold -up her head with the best. No girl in Sorrento will have such wedding -finery as this!" - -"Wedding finery, grandmamma," said Agnes, faintly, "what does that -mean?" - -"What does that mean, sly-boots? Ah, you know well enough! What were -you and Antonio talking about all the time this morning? Did he not ask -you to marry him?" - -"Yes, grandmamma; but I told him I was not going to marry. You promised -me, dear grandmother, right here, the other night, that I should not -marry till I was willing; and I told Antonio I was not willing." - -"The girl says but true, sister," said the monk; "you remember you gave -her your word that she should not be married till she gave her consent -willingly." - -"But, Agnes, my pretty one, what can be the objection?" said old Elsie, -coaxingly. "Where will you find a better-made man, or more honest, or -more kind?--and he is handsome;--and you will have a home that all the -girls will envy." - -"Grandmamma, remember, you promised me,--you _promised_ me," said -Agnes, looking distressed, and speaking earnestly. - -"Well, well, child! but can't I ask a civil question, if I did? What is -your objection to Antonio?" - -"Only that I don't want to be married." - -"Now you know, child," said Elsie, "I never will consent to your going -to a convent. You might as well put a knife through my old heart as -talk to me of that. And if you don't go, you must marry somebody; and -who could be better than Antonio?" - -"Oh, grandmamma, am I not a good girl? What have I done, that you are -so anxious to get me away from you?" said Agnes. "I like Antonio well -enough, but I like you ten thousand times better. Why cannot we live -together just as we do now? I am strong. I can work a great deal harder -than I do. You ought to let me work more, so that you need not work so -hard and tire yourself,--let me carry the heavy basket, and dig round -the trees." - -"Pooh! a pretty story!" said Elsie. "We are two lone women, and the -times are unsettled; there are robbers and loose fellows about, and we -want a protector." - -"And is not the good Lord our protector?--has He not always kept us, -grandmother?" said Agnes. - -"Oh, that's well enough to say, but folks can't always get along so; -it's far better trusting the Lord with a good strong man about,--like -Antonio, for instance. I should like to see the man that would dare be -uncivil to _his_ wife. But go your ways; it's no use toiling away one's -life for children, who, after all, won't turn their little finger for -you." - -"Now, dear grandmother," said Agnes, "have I not said I would do -everything for you, and work hard for you? Ask me to do anything else -in the world, grandmamma; I will do anything to make you happy, except -marry this man,--that I cannot." - -"And that is the only thing I want you to do. Well, I suppose I may as -well lock up these things; I see my gifts are not cared for." - -And the old soul turned and went in quite testily, leaving Agnes with a -grieved heart, sitting still by her uncle. - -"Never weep, little one," said the kind old monk, when he saw the -silent tears falling one after another; "your grandmother loves you, -after all, and will come out of this, if we are quiet." - -"This is such a beautiful world," said Agnes, "who would think it would -be such a hard one to live in?--such battles and conflicts as people -have here!" - -"You say well, little heart; but great is the glory to be revealed; so -let us have courage." - -"Dear uncle, have you heard any ill-tidings of late?" asked Agnes. "I -noticed this morning you were cast down, and to-night you look so tired -and sad." - -"Yes, dear child,--heavy tidings have indeed come. My dear master at -Florence is hard beset by wicked men, and in great danger,--in danger, -perhaps, of falling a martyr to his holy zeal for the blessed Jesus and -his Church." - -"But cannot our holy father, the Pope, protect him? You should go to -Rome directly and lay the case before him." - -"It is not always possible to be protected by the Pope," said Father -Antonio, evasively. "But I grieve much, dear child, that I can be with -you no longer. I must gird up my loins and set out for Florence, to see -with my own eyes how the battle is going for my holy master." - -"Ah, must I lose you, too, my dear, best friend?" said Agnes. "What -shall I do?" - -"Thou hast the same Lord Jesus, and the same dear Mother, when I am -gone. Have faith in God, and cease not to pray for His Church,--and for -me, too." - -"That I will, dear uncle! I will pray for you more than ever, for -prayer now will be all my comfort. But," she added, with hesitation, -"oh, uncle, you promised to visit _him_!" - -"Never fear, little Agnes, I will do that. I go to him this very -night,--now even,--for the daylight waxes too scant for me to work -longer." - -"But you will come back and stay with us to-night, uncle?" - -"Yes, I will,--but to-morrow morning I must be up and away with the -birds; and I have labored hard all day to finish the drawings for the -lad who shall carve the shrine, that he may busy himself thereon in my -absence." - -"Then you will come back?" - -"Certainly, dear heart, I will come back; of that be assured. Pray God -it be before long, too." - -So saying, the good monk drew his cowl over his head, and, putting his -portfolio of drawings under his arm, began to wend his way towards the -old town. - -Agnes watched him departing, her heart in a strange flutter of -eagerness and solicitude. What were these dreadful troubles which were -coming upon her good uncle?--who those enemies of the Church that beset -that saintly teacher he so much looked up to? And why was lawless -violence allowed to run such riot in Italy, as it had in the case of -the unfortunate cavalier? As she thought things over, she was burning -with a repressed desire to _do_ something herself to abate these -troubles. - -"I am not a knight," she said to herself, "and I cannot fight for the -good cause. I am not a priest, and I cannot argue for it. I cannot -preach and convert sinners. What, then, can I do? I can pray. Suppose -I should make a pilgrimage? Yes,--that would be a good work, and I -will. I will walk to Rome, praying at every shrine and holy place; and -then, when I come to the Holy City, whose very dust is made precious -with the blood of the martyrs and saints, I will seek the house of our -dear father, the Pope, and entreat his forgiveness for this poor soul. -He will not scorn me, for he is in the place of the blessed Jesus, and -the richest princess and the poorest maiden are equal in his sight. Ah, -that will be beautiful! Holy Mother," she said, falling on her knees -before the shrine, "here I vow and promise that I will go praying to -the Holy City. Smile on me and help me!" - -And by the twinkle of the flickering lamp which threw its light upon -the picture, Agnes thought surely the placid face brightened to a -tender maternal smile, and her enthusiastic imagination saw in this an -omen of success. - -Old Elsie was moody and silent this evening,--vexed at the thwarting -of her schemes. It was the first time that the idea had ever gained a -foothold in her mind, that her docile and tractable grandchild could -really have for any serious length of time a will opposed to her own, -and she found it even now difficult to believe it. Hitherto she had -shaped her life as easily as she could mould a biscuit, and it was all -plain sailing before her. The force and decision of this young will -rose as suddenly upon her as the one rock in the middle of the ocean -which a voyager unexpectedly discovered by striking on it. - -But Elsie by no means regarded the game as lost. She mentally went over -the field, considering here and there what was yet to be done. - -The subject had fairly been broached. Agnes had listened to it, and -parted in friendship from Antonio. Now his old mother must be soothed -and pacified; and Antonio must be made to persevere. - -"What is a girl worth that can be won at the first asking?" quoth -Elsie. "Depend upon it, she will fall to thinking of him, and the next -time she sees him she will give him a good look. The girl never knew -what it was to have a lover. No wonder she doesn't take to it at first; -there's where her bringing up comes in, so different from other girls'. -Courage, Elsie! Nature will speak in its own time." - -Thus soliloquizing, she prepared to go a few steps from their dwelling, -to the cottage of Meta and Antonio, which was situated at no great -distance. - -"Nobody will think of coming here this time o' night," she said, "and -the girl is in for a good hour at least with her prayers, and so I -think I may venture. I don't really like to leave her, but it's not -a great way, and I shall be back in a few moments. I want just to put -a word into old Meta's ear, that she may teach Antonio how to demean -himself." - -And so the old soul took her spinning and away she went, leaving Agnes -absorbed in her devotions. - -The solemn starry night looked down steadfastly on the little garden. -The evening wind creeping with gentle stir among the orange-leaves, and -the falling waters of the fountain dripping their distant, solitary way -down from rock to rock through the lonely gorge, were the only sounds -that broke the stillness. - -The monk was the first of the two to return; for those accustomed to -the habits of elderly cronies on a gossiping expedition of any domestic -importance will not be surprised that Elsie's few moments of projected -talk lengthened imperceptibly into hours. - -Agnes came forward anxiously to meet her uncle. He seemed wan and -haggard, and trembling with some recent emotion. - -"What is the matter with you, dear uncle?" she asked. "Has anything -happened?" - -"Nothing, child, nothing. I have only been talking on painful subjects, -deep perplexities, out of which I can scarcely see my way. Would to God -this night of life were past, and I could see morning on the mountains!" - -"My uncle, have you not, then, succeeded in bringing this young man to -the bosom of the True Church?" - -"Child, the way is hedged up, and made almost impassable by -difficulties you little wot of. They cannot be told to you; they are -enough to destroy the faith of the very elect." - -Agnes's heart sank within her; and the monk, sitting down on the wall -of the garden, clasped his hands over one knee and gazed fixedly before -him. - -The sight of her uncle,--generally so cheerful, so elastic, so full of -bright thoughts and beautiful words,--so utterly cast down, was both a -mystery and a terror to Agnes. - -"Oh, my uncle," she said, "it is hard that I must not know, and that I -can do nothing, when I feel ready to die for this cause! What is one -little life? Ah, if I had a thousand to give, I could melt them all -into it, like little drops of rain in the sea! Be not utterly cast -down, good uncle! Does not our dear Lord and Saviour reign in the -heavens yet?" - -"Sweet little nightingale!" said the monk, stretching his hand towards -her. "Well did my master say that he gained strength to his soul always -by talking with Christ's little children!" - -"And all the dear saints and angels, they are not dead or idle either," -said Agnes, her face kindling: "they are busy all around us. I know not -what this trouble is you speak of; but let us think what legions of -bright angels and holy men and women are caring for us." - -"Well said, well said, dear child! There is, thank God, a Church -Triumphant,--a crowned queen, a glorious bride; and the poor, -struggling Church Militant shall rise to join her! What matter, then, -though our way lie through dungeon and chains, through fire and sword, -if we may attain to that glory at last?" - -"Uncle, are there such dreadful things really before you?" - -"There may be, child. I say of my master, as did the holy Apostles: -'Let us also go, that we may die with him.' I feel a heavy presage. But -I must not trouble you, child. Early in the morning I will be up and -away. I go with this youth, whose pathway lies a certain distance along -mine, and whose company I seek for his good as well as my pleasure." - -"You go with _him_?" said Agnes, with a start of surprise. - -"Yes; his refuge in the mountains lies between here and Rome, and he -hath kindly offered to bring me on my way faster than I can go on -foot; and I would fain see our beautiful Florence as soon as may be. O -Florence, Florence, Lily of Italy! wilt thou let thy prophet perish?" - -"But, uncle, if he die for the faith, he will be a blessed martyr. That -crown is worth dying for," said Agnes. - -"You say well, little one,--you say well! '_Ex oribus parvulorum._' -But one shrinks from that in the person of a friend which one could -cheerfully welcome for one's self. Oh, the blessed cross! never is it -welcome to the flesh, and yet how joyfully the spirit may walk under -it!" - -"Dear uncle, I have made a solemn vow before our Holy Mother this -night," said Agnes, "to go on a pilgrimage to Rome, and at every shrine -and holy place to pray that these great afflictions which beset all of -you may have a happy issue." - -"My sweet heart, what have you done? Have you considered the unsettled -roads, the wild, unruly men that are abroad, the robbers with which the -mountains are filled?" - -"These are all Christ's children and my brothers," said Agnes; "for -them was the most holy blood shed, as well as for me. They cannot harm -one who prays for them." - -"But, dear heart of mine, these ungodly brawlers think little of -prayer; and this beautiful, innocent little face will but move the -vilest and most brutal thoughts and deeds." - -"Saint Agnes still lives, dear uncle,--and He who kept her in worse -trial. I shall walk through them all pure as snow,--I am assured I -shall. The star which led the wise men and stood over the young child -and his mother will lead me, too." - -"But your grandmother?" - -"The Lord will incline her heart to go with me. Dear uncle, it does -not beseem a child to reflect on its elders, yet I cannot but see that -grandmamma loves this world and me too well for her soul's good. This -journey will be for her eternal repose." - -"Well, well, dear one, I cannot now advise. Take advice of your -confessor, and the blessed Lord and his holy Mother be with you! But -come now, I would soothe myself to sleep; for I have need of good rest -to-night. Let us sing together our dear master's hymn of the Cross." - -And the monk and the maiden sung together:-- - - "Iesu, sommo conforto, - Tu sei tutto il mio amore - E'l mio beato porto, - E santo Redentore. - O gran bonta, - Dolce pieta, - Felice quel che teco unito sta! - - "Deh, quante volte offeso - T' ha l' alma e 'l cor meschino, - E tu sei in croce steso - Per salvar me, tapino! - - "Iesu, fuss' io confitto - Sopra quel duro ligno, - Dove ti vedo afflitto, - Iesu, Signor benigno! - - "O croce, fammi loco, - E le mie membra prendi, - Che del tuo dolce foco - Il cor e l' alma accendi! - - "Infiamma il mio cor tanto - Dell' amor tuo divino, - Ch' io arda tutto quanto, - Che paia un serafino! - - "La croce e'l Crocifisso - Sia nel mio cor scolpito, - Ed io sia sempre affisso - In gloria ov' egli e ito!"[10] - - [10] Jesus, best comfort of my soul, - Be Thou my only love, - My sacred saviour from my sins, - My door to heaven above! - O lofty goodness, love divine, - Blest is the soul made one with thine! - - Alas, how oft this sordid heart - Hath wounded thy pure eye! - Yet for this heart upon the cross - Thou gav'st thyself to die! - - Ah, would I were extended there - Upon that cold, hard tree, - Where I have seen Thee, gracious Lord, - Breathe out thy life for me! - - Cross of my Lord, give room! give room! - To Thee my flesh be given! - Cleansed in thy fires of love and pain, - My soul rise pure to heaven! - - Burn in my heart, celestial flame, - With memories of Him, - Till, from earth's dross refined, I rise - To join the seraphim! - - Ah, vanish each unworthy trace - Of earthly care or pride, - Leave only, graven on my heart, - The Cross, the Crucified! - -As the monk sung, his soul seemed to fuse itself into the sentiment -with that natural grace peculiar to his nation. He walked up and down -the little garden, apparently forgetful of Agnes or of any earthly -presence, and in the last verses stretched his hands towards heaven -with streaming tears and a fervor of utterance indescribable. - -The soft and passionate tenderness of the Italian words must exhale -in an English translation, but enough may remain to show that the -hymns with which Savonarola at this time sowed the mind of Italy often -mingled the Moravian quaintness and energy with the Wesleyan purity and -tenderness. One of the great means of popular reform which he proposed -was the supplanting of the obscene and licentious songs, which at -that time so generally defiled the minds of the young, by religious -words and melodies. The children and young people brought up under his -influence were sedulously stored with treasures of sacred melody, as -the safest companions of leisure hours, and the surest guard against -temptation. - -"Come now, my little one," said the monk, after they had ceased -singing, as he laid his hand on Agnes's head. "I am strong now; I know -where I stand. And you, my little one, you are one of my master's -'Children of the Cross.' You must sing the hymns of our dear master, -that I taught you, when I am far away. A hymn is a singing angel, -and goes walking through the earth, scattering the devils before -it. Therefore he who creates hymns imitates the most excellent and -lovely works of our Lord God, who made the angels. These hymns watch -our chamber-door, they sit upon our pillow, they sing to us when we -awake; and therefore our master was resolved to sow the minds of his -young people with them, as our lovely Italy is sown with the seeds -of all colored flowers. How lovely has it often been to me, as I sat -at my work in Florence, to hear the little children go by, chanting -of Jesus and Mary,--and young men singing to young maidens, not vain -flatteries of their beauty, but the praises of the One only Beautiful, -whose smile sows heaven with stars like flowers! Ah, in my day I have -seen blessed times in Florence! Truly was she worthy to be called the -Lily City!--for all her care seemed to be to make white her garments -to receive her Lord and Bridegroom. Yes, though she had sinned like -the Magdalen, yet she loved much, like her. She washed His feet with -her tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head. Oh, my beautiful -Florence, be true to thy vows, be true to thy Lord and Governor, Jesus -Christ, and all shall be well!" - -"Amen, dear uncle!" said Agnes. "I will not fail to pray day and night, -that thus it may be. And now, if you must travel so far, you must go -to rest. Grandmamma has gone long ago. I saw her steal by as we were -singing." - -"And is there any message from my little Agnes to this young man?" -asked the monk. - -"Yes. Say to him that Agnes prays daily that he may be a worthy son and -soldier of the Lord Jesus." - -"Amen, sweet heart! Jesus and His sweet Mother bless thee!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE PENANCE - - -The course of our story requires us to return to the Capuchin convent, -and to the struggles and trials of its Superior; for in his hands is -the irresistible authority which must direct the future life of Agnes. - -From no guilty compliances, no heedless running into temptation, had -he come to love her. The temptation had met him in the direct path of -duty; the poison had been breathed in with the perfume of sweetest and -most life-giving flowers: nor could he shun that temptation, nor cease -to inhale that fatal sweetness, without confessing himself vanquished -in a point where, in his view, to yield was to be lost. The subtle -and deceitful visit of Father Johannes to his cell had the effect of -thoroughly rousing him to a complete sense of his position, and making -him feel the immediate, absolute necessity of bringing all the energy -of his will, all the resources of his nature, to bear on its present -difficulties. For he felt, by a fine intuition, that already he was -watched and suspected; any faltering step now, any wavering, any change -in his mode of treating his female penitents, would be maliciously -noted. The military education of his early days had still left in his -mind a strong residuum of personal courage and honor, which made him -regard it as dastardly to flee when he ought to conquer, and therefore -he set his face as a flint for victory. - -But reviewing his interior world, and taking a survey of the work -before him, he felt that sense of a divided personality which often -becomes so vivid in the history of individuals of strong will and -passion. It seemed to him that there were two men within him: the -one turbulent, passionate, demented; the other vainly endeavoring by -authority, reason, and conscience to bring the rebel to subjection. The -discipline of conventual life, the extraordinary austerities to which -he had condemned himself, the monotonous solitude of his existence, -all tended to exalt the vivacity of the nervous system, which, in the -Italian constitution, is at all times disproportionately developed; -and when those weird harp-strings of the nerves are once thoroughly -unstrung, the fury and tempest of the discord sometimes utterly -bewilders the most practiced self-government. - -But he felt that _something_ must be done with himself, and done -immediately; for in a few days he must again meet Agnes at the -confessional. He must meet her, not with weak tremblings and passionate -fears, but calm as Fate, inexorable as the Judgment-Day. He must hear -her confession, not as man, but as God; he must pronounce his judgments -with a divine dispassionateness. He must dive into the recesses of her -secret heart, and, following with subtile analysis all the fine courses -of those fibres which were feeling their blind way towards an earthly -love, must tear them remorselessly away. Well could he warn her of -the insidiousness of earthly affections; better than any one else he -could show her how a name that was blended with her prayers and borne -before the sacred shrine in her most retired and solemn hours might at -last come to fill all her heart with a presence too dangerously dear. -He must direct her gaze up those mystical heights where an unearthly -marriage awaited her, its sealed and spiritual bride; he must hurry her -footsteps onward to the irrevocable issue. - -All this was before him. But ere it could be done, he must subdue -himself,--he must become calm and pulseless, in deadly resolve; and -what prayer, what penance, might avail for this? If all that he had -already tried had so miserably failed, what hope? He resolved to quit -for a season all human society, and enter upon one of those desolate -periods of retreat from earthly converse well known in the annals of -saintship as most prolific in spiritual victories. - -Accordingly, on the day after the conversation with Father Johannes, -he startled the monks by announcing to them that he was going to leave -them for several days. - -"My brothers," he said, "the weight of a fearful penance is laid upon -me, which I must work out alone. I leave you to-day, and charge you not -to seek to follow my footsteps; but, as you hope to escape hell, watch -and wrestle for me and yourselves during the time I am gone. Before -many days I hope to return to you with renewed spiritual strength." - -That evening, while Agnes and her uncle were sitting together in their -orange-garden, mingling their parting prayers and hymns, scenes of a -very different description surrounded the Father Francesco. - -One who looks on the flowery fields and blue seas of this enchanting -region thinks that the Isles of the Blest could scarcely find on earth -a more fitting image; nor can he realize, till experience proves it to -him, that he is in the immediate vicinity of a weird and dreary region -which might represent no less the goblin horrors of the damned. - -Around the foot of Vesuvius lie fair villages and villas, garlanded -with roses and flushing with grapes, whose juice gains warmth from -the breathing of its subterraneous fires, while just above them -rises a region more awful than can be created by the action of any -common causes of sterility. There, immense tracts sloping gradually -upward show a desolation so peculiar, so utterly unlike every common -solitude of Nature, that one enters upon it with the shudder we -give at that which is wholly unnatural. On all sides are gigantic -serpent convolutions of black lava, their immense folds rolled into -every conceivable contortion, as if, in their fiery agonies, they had -struggled and wreathed and knotted together, and then grown cold and -black with the imperishable signs of those terrific convulsions upon -them. Not a blade of grass, not a flower, not even the hardiest lichen, -springs up to relieve the utter deathliness of the scene. The eye -wanders from one black, shapeless mass to another, and there is ever -the same suggestion of hideous monster life, of goblin convulsions and -strange fiend-like agonies in some age gone by. One's very footsteps -have an unnatural, metallic clink, and one's garments brushing over the -rough surface are torn and fretted by its sharp, remorseless touch, -as if its very nature were so pitiless and acrid that the slightest -contact revealed it. - -The sun was just setting over the beautiful Bay of Naples,--with its -enchanted islands, its jeweled city, its flowery villages, all bedecked -and bedropped with strange shiftings and flushes of prismatic light and -shade, as if they belonged to some fairy-land of perpetual festivity -and singing,--when Father Francesco stopped in his toilsome ascent up -the mountain, and seating himself on ropy ridges of black lava, looked -down on the peaceful landscape. - -Above his head, behind him, rose the black cone of the mountain, over -whose top the lazy clouds of thin white smoke were floating, tinged -with the evening light; around him, the desolate convulsed waste, -so arid, so supernaturally dreary; and below, like a soft enchanted -dream, the beautiful bay, the gleaming white villas and towers, the -picturesque islands, the gliding sails, flecked and streaked and dyed -with the violet and pink and purple of the evening sky. The thin new -moon and one glittering star trembled through the rosy air. - -The monk wiped from his brow the sweat that had been caused by the toil -of his hurried journey, and listened to the bells of the Ave Maria -pealing from the different churches of Naples, filling the atmosphere -with a soft tremble of solemn dropping sound, as if spirits in the -air took up and repeated over and over the angelic salutation which -a thousand earthly lips were just then uttering. Mechanically he -joined in the invocation which at that moment united the hearts of all -Christians, and as the words passed his lips, he thought, with a sad, -desolate longing, of the hour of death of which they spake. - -"It must come at last," he said. "Life is but a moment. Why am I so -cowardly? why so unwilling to suffer and to struggle? Am I a warrior -of the Lord, and do I shrink from the toils of the camp, and long for -the ease of the court before I have earned it? Why do we clamor for -happiness? Why should we sinners be happy? And yet, O God, why is the -world made so lovely as it lies there, why so rejoicing, and so girt -with splendor and beauty, if we are never to enjoy it? If penance and -toil were all we were sent here for, why not make a world grim and -desolate as this around me?--then there would be nothing to seduce us. -But our path is a constant fight; Nature is made only to be resisted; -we must walk the sharp blade of the sword over the fiery chasm to -Paradise. Come, then!--no shrinking!--let me turn my back on everything -dear and beautiful, as now on this landscape!" - -He rose and commenced the perpendicular ascent of the cone, stumbling -and climbing over the huge sliding blocks of broken lava, which grated -and crunched beneath his feet with a harsh metallic ring. Sometimes a -broken fragment or two would go tinkling down the rough path behind -him, and sometimes it seemed as if the whole loose black mass from -above were about to slide, like an avalanche, down upon his head;--he -almost hoped it would. Sometimes he would stop, overcome by the toil -of the ascent, and seat himself for a moment on a black fragment, and -then his eye would wander over the wide and peaceful panorama below. -He seemed to himself like a fly perched upon some little roughness of -a perpendicular wall, and felt a strange airy sense of pleasure in -being thus between earth and heaven. A sense of relief, of beauty, -and peacefulness would steal over him, as if he were indeed something -disfranchised and disembodied, a part of the harmonious and beautiful -world that lay stretched out beneath him; in a moment more he would -waken himself with a start, and resume his toilsome journey with a -sullen and dogged perseverance. - -At last he gained the top of the mountain,--that weird, strange -region where the loose, hot soil, crumbling beneath his feet, was no -honest foodful mother-earth, but an acrid mass of ashes and corrosive -minerals. Arsenic, sulphur, and many a sharp and bitter salt were in -all he touched, every rift in the ground hissed with stifling steam, -while rolling clouds of dun sullen smoke, and a deep hollow booming, -like the roar of an immense furnace, told his nearness to the great -crater. He penetrated the sombre tabernacle, and stood on the very -brink of a huge basin, formed by a wall of rocks around a sunken plain, -in the midst of which rose the black cone of the subterraneous furnace, -which crackled and roared, and from time to time spit up burning stones -and cinders, or oozed out slow ropy streams of liquid fire. - -The sulphurous cliffs were dyed in many a brilliant shade of brown and -orange by the admixture of various ores, but their brightness seemed -strange and unnatural, and the dizzying whirls of vapor, now enveloping -the whole scene in gloom, now lifting in this spot and now in that, -seemed to magnify the dismal pit to an indefinite size. Now and then -there would come up from the very entrails of the mountain a sort of -convulsed sob of hollow sound, and the earth would quiver beneath his -feet, and fragments from the surrounding rocks would scale off and -fall with crashing reverberations into the depth beneath; at such -moments it would seem as if the very mountain were about to crush in -and bear him down in its ruins. - -Father Francesco, though blinded by the smoke and choked by the vapor, -could not be content without descending into the abyss and exploring -the very _penetralia_ of its mysteries. Steadying his way by means of -a cord which he fastened to a firm projecting rock, he began slowly -and painfully clambering downward. The wind was sweeping across the -chasm from behind, bearing the noxious vapors away from him, or he must -inevitably have been stifled. It took him some little time, however, to -effect his descent; but at length he found himself fairly landed on the -dark floor of the gloomy enclosure. - -The ropy, pitch-black undulations of lava yawned here and there in -red-hot cracks and seams, making it appear to be only a crust over some -fathomless depth of molten fire, whose moanings and boilings could be -heard below. These dark congealed billows creaked and bent as the monk -stepped upon them, and burned his feet through his coarse sandals; yet -he stumbled on. Now and then his foot would crush in, where the lava -had hardened in a thinner crust, and he would draw it suddenly back -from the lurid red-hot metal beneath. The staff on which he rested -was constantly kindling into a light blaze as it slipped into some -heated hollow, and he was fain to beat out the fire upon the cooler -surface. Still he went on half-stifled by the hot and pungent vapor, -but drawn by that painful, unnatural curiosity which possesses one in -a nightmare dream. The great cone in the centre was the point to which -he wished to attain,--the nearest point which man can gain to this -eternal mystery of fire. It was trembling with a perpetual vibration, a -hollow, pulsating undertone of sound like the surging of the sea before -a storm, and the lava that boiled over its sides rolled slowly down -with a strange creaking; it seemed the condensed, intensified essence -and expression of eternal fire, rising and still rising from some -inexhaustible fountain of burning. - -Father Francesco drew as near as he could for the stifling heat and -vapor, and, resting on his staff, stood gazing intently. The lurid -light of the fire fell with an unearthly glare on his pale, sunken -features, his wild, haggard eyes, and his torn and disarranged -garments. In the awful solitude and silence of the night he felt his -heart stand still, as if indeed he had touched with his very hand the -gates of eternal woe, and felt its fiery breath upon his cheek. He -half-imagined that the seams and clefts which glowed in lurid lines -between the dark billows would gape yet wider and show the blasting -secrets of some world of fiery despair below. He fancied that he heard -behind and around the mocking laugh of fiends, and that confused clamor -of mingled shrieks and lamentations which Dante describes as filling -the dusky approaches to that forlorn realm where hope never enters. - -"Ah, God," he exclaimed, "for this vain life of man! They eat, they -drink, they dance, they sing, they marry and are given in marriage, -they have castles and gardens and villas, and the very beauty of -Paradise seems over it all,--and yet how close by burns and roars the -eternal fire! Fools that we are, to clamor for indulgence and happiness -in this life, when the question is, to escape everlasting burnings! If -I tremble at this outer court of God's wrath and justice, what must be -the fires of hell? These are but earthly fires; they can but burn the -body: those are made to burn the soul; they are undying as the soul -is. What would it be to be dragged down, down, down, into an abyss of -soul-fire hotter than this for ages on ages? This might bring merciful -death in time: that will have no end." - -The monk fell on his knees and breathed out piercing supplications. -Every nerve and fibre within him seemed tense with his agony of prayer. -It was not the outcry for purity and peace, not a tender longing for -forgiveness, not a filial remorse for sin, but the nervous anguish -of him who shrieks in the immediate apprehension of an unendurable -torture. It was the cry of a man upon the rack, the despairing scream -of him who feels himself sinking in a burning dwelling. Such anguish -has found an utterance in Stradella's celebrated "Pieta, Signore," -which still tells to our ears, in its wild moans and piteous shrieks, -the religious conceptions of his day; for there is no phase of the -Italian mind that has not found expression in its music. - -When the oppression of the heat and sulphurous vapor became too -dreadful to be borne, the monk retraced his way and climbed with -difficulty up the steep sides of the crater, till he gained the -summit above, where a comparatively free air revived him. All night -he wandered up and down in that dreary vicinity, now listening to -the mournful roar and crackle of the fire, and now raising his voice -in penitential psalms or the notes of that terrific "Dies Irae" which -sums up all the intense fear and horror with which the religion of the -Middle Ages clothed the idea of the final catastrophe of humanity. -Sometimes prostrating himself with his face towards the stifling soil, -he prayed with agonized intensity till Nature would sink in a temporary -collapse, and sleep, in spite of himself, would steal over him. - -So waned the gloomy hours of the night away, till the morning broke in -the east, turning all the blue wavering floor of the sea to crimson -brightness, and bringing up, with the rising breeze, the barking of -dogs, the lowing of kine, the songs of laborers and boatmen, all fresh -and breezy from the repose of the past night. - -Father Francesco heard the sound of approaching footsteps climbing the -lava path, and started with a nervous trepidation. Soon he recognized -a poor peasant of the vicinity, whose child he had tended during a -dangerous illness. He bore with him a little basket of eggs, with a -melon and a fresh green salad. - -"Good-morning, holy father," he said, bowing humbly. "I saw you coming -this way last night, and I could hardly sleep for thinking of you; and -my good woman, Teresina, would have it that I should come out to look -after you. I have taken the liberty to bring a little offering;--it was -the best we had." - -"Thank you, my son," said the monk, looking wistfully at the fresh, -honest face of the peasant. "You have taken too much trouble for such a -sinner. I must not allow myself such indulgences." - -"But your Reverence must live. Look you," said the peasant, "at least -your Reverence will take an egg. See here, how handily I can cook -one," he added, striking his stick into a little cavity of a rock, -from which, as from an escape-valve, hissed a jet of hot steam,--"see -here, I nestle the egg in this little cleft, and it will be done in a -twinkling. Our good God gives us our fire for nothing here." - -There was something wholesomely kindly and cheerful in the action and -expression of the man, which broke upon the overstrained and disturbed -musings of the monk like daylight on a ghastly dream. The honest, -loving heart sees love in everything; even the fire is its fatherly -helper, and not its avenging enemy. - -Father Francesco took the egg, when it was done, with a silent gesture -of thanks. - -"If I might make bold to say," said the peasant, encouraged, "your -Reverence should have some care for yourself. If a man will not feed -himself, the good God will not feed him; and we poor people have too -few friends already to let such as you die. Your hands are trembling, -and you look worn out. Surely you should take something more, for the -very love of the poor." - -"My son, I am bound to do a heavy penance, and to work out a great -conflict. I thank you for your undeserved kindness. Leave me now to -myself, and come no more to disturb my prayers. Go, and God bless you!" - -"Well," said the peasant, putting down the basket and melon, "I shall -leave these things here, any way, and I beg your Reverence to have a -care of yourself. Teresina fretted all night for fear something might -come to you. The _bambino_ that you cured is grown a stout little -fellow, and eats enough for two,--and it is all of you; so she cannot -forget it. She is a busy little woman, is Teresina; and when she gets -a thought in her head, it buzzes, buzzes, like a fly in a bottle, and -she will have it your Reverence is killing yourself by inches, and says -she, 'What will all the poor do when he is gone?' So your Reverence -must pardon us. We mean it all for the best." - -So saying, the man turned and began sliding and slipping down the steep -ashy sides of the mountain cone with a dexterity which carried him to -the bottom in a few moments; and on he went, sending back after him a -cheerful little air, the refrain of which is still to be heard in our -days in that neighborhood. A word or two of the gay song fluttered back -on the ear of the monk,-- - - "Tutta gioja, tutta festa." - -So gay and airy it was in its ringing cadence that it seemed a musical -laugh springing from sunny skies, and came fluttering into the dismal -smoke and gloom of the mountaintop like a very butterfly of sound. -It struck on the sad, leaden ear of the monk much as we might fancy -the carol of a robin over a grave might seem, could the cold sleeper -below wake one moment to its perception. If it woke one regretful sigh -and drew one wandering look downward to the elysian paradise that -lay smiling at the foot of the mountain, he instantly suppressed the -feeling and set his face in its old deathly stillness. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -CLOUDS DEEPENING - - -After the departure of her uncle to Florence, the life of Agnes was -troubled and harassed from a variety of causes. - -First, her grandmother was sulky and moody, and though saying nothing -directly on the topic nearest her heart, yet intimating by every -look and action that she considered Agnes as a most ungrateful and -contumacious child. Then there was a constant internal perplexity,--a -constant wearying course of self-interrogation and self-distrust, the -pain of a sensitive spirit which doubts at every moment whether it may -not be falling into sin. The absence of her kind uncle at this time -took from her the strongest support on which she had leaned in her -perplexities. Cheerful, airy, and elastic in his temperament, always -full of fresh-springing and beautiful thoughts, as an Italian dell is -of flowers, the charming old man seemed, while he stayed with Agnes, to -be the door of a new and fairer world, where she could walk in air and -sunshine, and find utterance for a thousand thoughts and feelings which -at all other times lay in cold repression in her heart. His counsels -were always so wholesome, his sympathies so quick, his devotion so -fervent and cheerful, that while with him Agnes felt the burden of her -life insensibly lifted and carried for her as by some angel guide. - -Now they had all come back upon her, heavier a thousand-fold than -ever they had been before. Never did she so much need counsel and -guidance,--never had she so much within herself to be solved and made -plain to her own comprehension; yet she thought with a strange shiver -of her next visit to her confessor. That austere man, so chilling, so -awful, so far above all conception of human weaknesses, how should she -dare to lay before him all the secrets of her breast, especially when -she must confess to having disobeyed his most stringent commands? She -had had another interview with this forbidden son of perdition, but -how it was she knew not. How could such things have happened? Instead -of shutting her eyes and turning her head and saying prayers, she had -listened to a passionate declaration of love, and his last word had -called her his wife. Her heart thrilled every time she thought of it; -and somehow she could not feel sure that it was exactly a thrill of -penitence. It was all like a strange dream to her; and sometimes she -looked at her little brown hands and wondered if he really had kissed -them,--he, the splendid strange vision of a man, the prince from -fairy-land! Agnes had never read romances, it is true, but she had been -brought up on the legends of the saints, and there never was a marvel -possible to human conception that had not been told there. Princes -had come from China and Barbary and Abyssinia and every other strange -out-of-the-way place, to kneel at the feet of fair, obdurate saints who -would not even turn the head to look at them; but she had acted, she -was conscious, after a much more mortal fashion, and so made herself -work for confession and penance. Yet certainly she had not meant to do -so; the interview came on her so suddenly, so unexpectedly; and somehow -he _would_ speak, and he would not go when she asked him to; and she -remembered how he looked when he stood right before her in the door-way -and told her she _should_ hear him,--how the color flushed up in his -cheeks, what a fire there was in his great dark eyes; he looked as if -he were going to do something desperate then; it made her hold her -breath even now to think of it. - -"These princes and nobles," she thought, "are so used to command, it -is no wonder they make us feel as if they must have their will. I have -heard grandmother call them wolves and vultures, that are ready to -tear us poor folk to pieces; but I am sure he seems gentle. I'm sure -it isn't wicked or cruel for him to want to make me his wife; and he -couldn't know, of course, why it wasn't right he should; and it really -is beautiful of him to love me so. Oh, if I were only a princess, and -he loved me that way, how glad I should be to give up everything and go -to him alone! And then we would pray together; and I really think that -would be much better than praying all alone. He said men had so much -more to tempt them. Ah, that is true! How can little moles that grub in -the ground know of the dangers of eagles that fly to the very sun? Holy -Mother, look mercifully upon him and save his soul!" - -Such were the thoughts of Agnes the day when she was preparing for -her confession; and all the way to church she found them floating and -dissolving and reappearing in new forms in her mind, like the silvery -smoke-clouds which were constantly veering and sailing over Vesuvius. - -Only one thing was firm and never changing, and that was the purpose to -reveal everything to her spiritual director. When she kneeled at the -confessional with closed eyes, and began her whispered acknowledgments, -she tried to feel as if she were speaking in the ear of God -alone,--that God whose spirit she was taught to believe, for the time -being, was present in His minister before whom her inmost heart was to -be unveiled. - -He who sat within had just returned from his lonely retreat with his -mind and nerves in a state of unnatural tension,--a sort of ecstatic -clearness and calmness, which he mistook for victory and peace. During -those lonely days when he had wandered afar from human converse, and -was surrounded only by objects of desolation and gloom, he had passed -through as many phases of strange, unnatural experience as there were -flitting smoke-wreaths eddying about him. - -There are depths in man's nature and his possibilities which no plummet -has ever sounded,--the wild, lonely joys of fanatical excitement, the -perfectly ravenous appetite for self-torture, which seems able, in -time, to reverse the whole human system, and make a heaven of hell. -How else can we understand the facts related both in Hindoo and in -Christian story, of those men and women who have found such strange -raptures in slow tortures, prolonged from year to year, till pain -became a habit of body and mind? It is said that after the tortures of -the rack, the reaction of the overstrained nerves produces a sense of -the most exquisite relief and repose; and so when mind and body are -harrowed, harassed to the very outer verge of endurance, come wild -throbbings and transports, and strange celestial clairvoyance, which -the mystic hails as the descent of the New Jerusalem into his soul. - -It had seemed to Father Francesco, when he came down from the mountain, -that he had left his body behind him,--that he had left earth and -earthly things; his very feet touching the ground seemed to tread not -on rough, resisting soil, but on an elastic cloud. He saw a strange -excess of beauty in every flower, in every leaf, in the wavering blue -of the sea, in the red grottoed rocks that overhung the shore, with -their purple, green, orange, and yellow hangings of flower-and-leaf -tapestry. The songs of the fishermen on the beach, the peasant-girls -cutting flowery fodder for the cattle, all seemed to him to have an -unnatural charm. As one looking through a prism sees a fine bordering -of rainbow on every object, so he beheld a glorified world. His -former self seemed to him something forever past and gone. He looked -at himself as at another person, who had sinned and suffered, and -was now resting in beatified repose; and he fondly thought all this -was firm reality, and believed that he was now proof against all -earthly impressions, able to hear and to judge with the dispassionate -calmness of a disembodied spirit. He did not know that this high-strung -calmness, this fine clearness, were only the most intense forms of -nervous sensibility, and as vividly susceptible to every mortal -impression as is the vitalized chemical plate to the least action of -the sun's rays. - -When Agnes began her confession, her voice seemed to him to pass -through every nerve; it seemed as if he could feel her presence -thrilling through the very wood of the confessional. He was astonished -and dismayed at his own emotion. But when she began to speak of -the interview with the cavalier, he trembled from head to foot -with uncontrollable passion. Nature long repressed came back in a -tempestuous reaction. He crossed himself again and again, he tried to -pray, and blessed those protecting shadows which concealed his emotion -from the unconscious one by his side. But he set his teeth in deadly -resolve, and his voice, as he questioned her, came forth cutting and -cold as ice crystals. - -"Why did you listen to a word?" - -"My father, it was so sudden. He wakened me from sleep. I answered him -before I thought." - -"You should not have been sleeping. It was a sinful indolence." - -"Yes, my father." - -"See now to what it led. The enemy of your soul, ever watching, seized -this moment to tempt you." - -"Yes, my father." - -"Examine your soul well," said Father Francesco, in a tone of austere -severity that made Agnes tremble. "Did you not find a secret pleasure -in his words?" - -"My father, I fear I did," said she, with a trembling voice. - -"I knew it! I knew it!" the priest muttered to himself, while the great -drops started on his forehead, in the intensity of the conflict he -repressed. Agnes thought the solemn pause that followed was caused by -the horror that had been inspired by her own sinfulness. - -"You did not, then, heartily and truly wish him to go from you?" -pursued the cold, severe voice. - -"Yes, my father, I did. I wished him to go with all my soul." - -"Yet you say you found pleasure in his being near you," said Father -Francesco, conscious how every string of his own being, even in this -awful hour, was vibrating with a sort of desperate, miserable joy in -being once more near to her. - -"Ah," sighed Agnes, "that is true, my father,--woe is me! Please tell -me how I could have helped it. I was pleased before I knew it." - -"And you have been thinking of what he said to you with pleasure -since?" pursued the confessor, with an intense severity of manner, -deepening as he spoke. - -"I _have_ thought of it," faltered Agnes. - -"Beware how you trifle with the holy sacrament! Answer frankly. You -have thought of it _with pleasure_. Confess it." - -"I do not understand myself exactly," said Agnes. "I have thought of it -partly with pleasure and partly with pain." - -"Would you like to go with him and be his wife, as he said?" - -"If it were right, father,--not otherwise." - -"Oh, foolish child! oh, blinded soul! to think of right in connection -with an infidel and heretic! Do you not see that all this is an -artifice of Satan? He can transform himself into an angel of light. -Do you suppose this heretic would be brought back to the Church by a -foolish girl? Do you suppose it is your prayers he wants? Why does he -not seek the prayers of the Church,--of holy men who have power with -God? He would bait his hook with this pretense that he may catch your -soul. Do you believe me?" - -"I am bound to believe you, my father." - -"But you do not. Your heart is going after this wicked man." - -"Oh, my father, I do not wish it should. I never wish or expect to see -him more. I only pray for him that his soul may not be lost." - -"He has gone, then?" - -"Yes, my father. And he went with my uncle, a most holy monk, who has -undertaken the work of his salvation. He listens to my uncle, who has -hopes of restoring him to the Church." - -"That is well. And now, my daughter, listen to me. You must root out -of your thought every trace and remembrance of these words of sinful -earthly love which he hath spoken. Such love would burn your soul to -all eternity with fire that never could be quenched. If you can tear -away all roots and traces of this from your heart, if by fasting and -prayer and penance you can become worthy to be a bride of your divine -Lord, then your prayers will gain power, and you may prevail to secure -his eternal salvation. But listen to me, daughter,--listen and tremble! -If ever you should yield to his love and turn back from this heavenly -marriage to follow him, you will accomplish his damnation and your own; -to all eternity he will curse you, while the fire rages and consumes -him,--he will curse the hour that he first saw you." - -These words were spoken with an intense vehemence which seemed almost -supernatural. Agnes shivered and trembled; a vague feeling of guilt -overwhelmed and disheartened her; she seemed to herself the most lost -and abandoned of human beings. - -"My father, I shall think no penance too severe that may restore my -soul from this sin. I have already made a vow to the blessed Mother -that I will walk on foot to the Holy City, praying in every shrine and -holy place; and I humbly ask your approval." - -This announcement brought to the mind of the monk a sense of relief and -deliverance. He felt already, in the terrible storm of agitation which -this confession had aroused within him, that nature was not dead, and -that he was infinitely farther from the victory of passionless calm -than he had supposed. He was still a man,--torn with human passions, -with a love which he must never express, and a jealousy which burned -and writhed at every word which he had wrung from its unconscious -object. Conscience had begun to whisper in his ear that there would -be no safety to him in continuing this spiritual dictatorship to one -whose every word unmanned him,--that it was laying himself open to a -ceaseless temptation, which in some blinded, dreary hour of evil might -hurry him into acts of horrible sacrilege; and he was once more feeling -that wild, stormy revolt of his inner nature that so distressed him -before he left the convent. - -This proposition of Agnes's struck him as a compromise. It would -take her from him only for a season, she would go under his care -and direction, and he would gradually recover his calmness and -self-possession in her absence. Her pilgrimage to the holy places would -be a most proper and fit preparation for the solemn marriage-rite -which should forever sunder her from all human ties, and make her -inaccessible to all solicitations of human love. Therefore, after an -interval of silence, he answered,-- - -"Daughter, your plan is approved. Such pilgrimages have ever been held -meritorious works in the Church, and there is a special blessing upon -them." - -"My father," said Agnes, "it has always been in my heart from my -childhood to be the bride of the Lord; but my grandmother, who brought -me up, and to whom I owe the obedience of a daughter, utterly forbids -me; she will not hear a word of it. No longer ago than last Monday she -told me I might as well put a knife into her heart as speak of this." - -"And you, daughter, do you put the feelings of any earthly friend -before the love of your Lord and Creator who laid down His life for -you? Hear what He saith: 'He that loveth father or mother more than me -is not worthy of me.'" - -"But my poor old grandmother has no one but me in the world, and she -has never slept a night without me; she is getting old, and she has -worked for me all her good days;--it would be very hard for her to lose -me." - -"Ah, false, deceitful heart! Has, then, thy Lord not labored for thee? -Has He not borne thee through all the years of thy life? And wilt thou -put the love of any mortal before His?" - -"Yes," replied Agnes, with a sort of hardy sweetness, "but my Lord does -not need me as grandmother does; He is in glory, and will never be old -or feeble; I cannot work for Him and tend Him as I shall her. I cannot -see my way clear at present; but when she is gone, or if the saints -move her to consent, I shall then belong to God alone." - -"Daughter, there is some truth in your words; and if your Lord -accepts you, He will dispose her heart. Will she go with you on this -pilgrimage?" - -"I have prayed that she might, father,--that her soul may be quickened; -for I fear me, dear old grandmamma has found her love for me a -snare,--she has thought too much of my interests and too little of her -own soul, poor grandmamma!" - -"Well, child, I shall enjoin this pilgrimage on her as a penance." - -"I have grievously offended her lately," said Agnes, "in rejecting -an offer of marriage with a man on whom she had set her heart, and -therefore she does not listen to me as she is wont to do." - -"You have done right in refusing, my daughter. I will speak to her of -this, and show her how great is the sin of opposing a holy vocation -in a soul whom the Lord calls to Himself, and enjoin her to make -reparation by uniting with you in this holy work." - -Agnes departed from the confessional without even looking upon the face -of her director, who sat within listening to the rustle of her dress as -she rose,--listening to the soft fall of her departing footsteps, and -praying that grace might be given him not to look after her: and he did -not, though he felt as if his life were going with her. - -Agnes tripped round the aisle to a little side-chapel where a light -was always kept burning by her before a picture of Saint Agnes, and, -kneeling there, waited till her grandmother should be through with her -confession. - -"Ah, sweet Saint Agnes," she said, "pity me! I am a poor ignorant -young girl, and have been led into grievous sin; but I did not mean -to do wrong,--I have been trying to do right; pray for me, that I may -overcome as you did. Pray our dear Lord to send you with us on this -pilgrimage, and save us from all wicked and brutal men who would do us -harm. As the Lord delivered you in sorest straits, keeping soul and -body pure as a lily, ah, pray Him to keep me! I love you dearly,--watch -over me and guide me." - -In those days of the Church, such addresses to the glorified saints -had become common among all Christians. They were not regarded as -worship, any more than a similar outpouring of confidence to a beloved -and revered friend yet in the body. Among the hymns of Savonarola is -one addressed to Saint Mary Magdalen, whom he regarded with an especial -veneration. The great truth, that God is not the God of the dead, but -of the living, that _all_ live to Him, was in those ages with the truly -religious a part of spiritual consciousness. The saints of the Church -Triumphant, having become one with Christ as He is one with the Father, -were regarded as invested with a portion of his divinity, and as the -ministering agency through which his mediatorial government on earth -was conducted; and it was thought to be in the power of the sympathetic -heart to attract them by the outflow of its affections, so that their -presence often overshadowed the walks of daily life with a cloud of -healing and protecting sweetness. - -If the enthusiasm of devotion in regard to these invisible friends -became extravagant and took the language due to God alone, it was no -more than the fervid Italian nature was always doing with regard to -visible objects of affection. Love with an Italian always tends to -become worship, and some of the language of the poets addressed to -earthly loves rises into intensities of expression due only to the One, -Sovereign, Eternal Beauty. One sees even in the writings of Cicero -that this passionate adoring kind of love is not confined to modern -times. When he loses the daughter in whom his heart is garnered up, he -finds no comfort except in building a temple to her memory,--a blind -outreaching towards the saint-worship of modern times. - -Agnes rose from her devotions, and went with downcast eyes, her lips -still repeating prayers, to the font of holy water, which was in a dim -shadowy corner, where a painted window cast a gold and violet twilight. -Suddenly there was a rustle of garments in the dimness, and a jeweled -hand essayed to pass holy water to her on the tip of its finger. This -mark of Christian fraternity, common in those times, Agnes almost -mechanically accepted, touching her slender finger to the one extended, -and making the sign of the cross, while she raised her eyes to see who -stood there. Gradually the haze cleared from her mind, and she awoke to -the consciousness that it was the cavalier! He moved to come towards -her, with a bright smile on his face; but suddenly she became pale as -one who has seen a spectre, and, pushing from her with both hands, she -said faintly, "Go, go!" and turned and sped up the aisle silently as a -sunbeam, joining her grandmother, who was coming from the confessional -with a gloomy and sullen brow. - -Old Elsie had been enjoined to unite with her grandchild in this -scheme of a pilgrimage, and received the direction with as much -internal contumacy as would a thriving church-member of Wall Street -a proposition to attend a protracted meeting in the height of the -business season. Not but that pilgrimages were holy and gracious -works,--she was too good a Christian not to admit that,--but why must -holy and gracious works be thrust on her in particular? There were -saints enough who liked such things; and people _could_ get to heaven -without,--if not with a very abundant entrance, still in a modest -way,--and Elsie's ambition for position and treasure in the spiritual -world was of a very moderate cast. - -"Well, now, I hope you are satisfied," she said to Agnes, as she -pulled her along with no very gentle hand; "you've got me sent off on -a pilgrimage,--and my old bones must be rattling up and down all the -hills between here and Rome,--and who's to see to the oranges?--they'll -all be stolen, every one." - -"Grandmother"--began Agnes in a pleading voice. - -"Oh, you hush up! I know what you're going to say. 'The good Lord will -take care of them.' I wish He may. He has his hands full, with all the -people that go cawing and psalm-singing like so many crows, and leave -all their affairs to Him!" - -Agnes walked along disconsolate, with her eyes full of tears, which -coursed one another down her pale cheeks. - -"There's Antonio," pursued Elsie, "would perhaps look after things -a little. He is a good fellow, and only yesterday was asking if he -couldn't do something for us. It's you he does it for,--but little you -care who loves you, or what they do for you!" - -At this moment they met old Jocunda, whom we have before introduced -to the reader as portress of the Convent. She had on her arm a large -square basket, which she was storing for its practical uses. - -"Well, well, Saint Agnes be praised, I have found you at last," she -said. "I was wanting to speak about some of your blood-oranges for -conserving. An order has come down from our dear gracious lady, the -Queen, to prepare a lot for her own blessed eating, and you may be sure -I would get none of anybody but you. But what's this, my little heart, -my little lamb?--crying?--tears in those sweet eyes? What's the matter -now?" - -"Matter enough for me!" said Elsie. "It's a weary world we live in. A -body can't turn any way and not meet with trouble. If a body brings -up a girl one way, why, every fellow is after her, and one has no -peace; and if a body brings her up another way, she gets her head in -the clouds, and there's no good of her in this world. Now look at -that girl,--doesn't everybody say it's time she were married?--but -no marrying for her! Nothing will do but we must off to Rome on a -pilgrimage,--and what's the good of that, I want to know? If it's -praying that's to be done, the dear saints know she's at it from -morning till night,--and lately she's up and down three or four times a -night with some prayer or other." - -"Well, well," said Jocunda, "who started this idea?" - -"Oh, Father Francesco and she got it up between them, and nothing will -do but I must go, too." - -"Well, now, after all, my dear," said Jocunda, "do you know, I made a -pilgrimage once, and it isn't so bad. One gets a good deal by it, first -and last. Everybody drops something into your hand as you go, and one -gets treated as if one were somebody a little above the common; and -then in Rome one has a princess or a duchess or some noble lady who -washes one's feet, and gives one a good supper, and perhaps a new suit -of clothes, and all that,--and ten to one there comes a pretty little -sum of money to boot, if one plays one's cards well. A pilgrimage isn't -bad, after all; one sees a world of fine things, and something new -every day." - -"But who is to look after our garden and dress our trees?" - -"Ah, now, there's Antonio, and old Meta his mother," said Jocunda, -with a knowing wink at Agnes. "I fancy there are friends there that -would lend a hand to keep things together against the little one comes -home. If one is going to be married, a pilgrimage brings good luck in -the family. All the saints take it kindly that one comes so far to see -them, and are more ready to do a good turn for one when one needs it. -The blessed saints are like other folks, they like to be treated with -proper attention." - -This view of pilgrimages from the material standpoint had more effect -on the mind of Elsie than the most elaborate appeals of Father -Francesco. She began to acquiesce, though with a reluctant air. - -Jocunda, seeing her words had made some impression, pursued her -advantage on the spiritual ground. - -"To be sure," she added, "I don't know how it is with you; but I know -that _I_ have, one way and another, rolled up quite an account of sins -in my life. When I was tramping up and down with my old man through the -country,--now in this castle and then in that camp, and now and then -in at the sacking of a city or village, or something of the kind,--the -saints forgive us!--it does seem as if one got into things that were -not of the best sort, in such times. It's true, it's been wiped out -over and over by the priest; but then a pilgrimage is a good thing to -make all sure, in case one's good works should fall short of one's sins -at last. I can tell you, a pilgrimage is a good round weight to throw -into the scale; and when it comes to heaven and hell, you know, my -dear, why, one cannot be too careful." - -"Well, that may be true enough," said Elsie, "though as to my sins, I -have tried to keep them regularly squared up and balanced as I went -along. I have always been regular at confession, and never failed a jot -or tittle in what the holy father told me. But there may be something -in what you say; one can't be too sure; and so I'll e'en school my old -bones into taking this tramp." - -That evening, as Agnes was sitting in the garden at sunset, her -grandmother bustling in and out, talking, groaning, and hurrying in -her preparations for the anticipated undertaking, suddenly there was a -rustling in the branches overhead, and a bouquet of rosebuds fell at -her feet. Agnes picked it up, and saw a scrip of paper coiled among the -flowers. In a moment, remembering the apparition of the cavalier in the -church in the morning, she doubted not from whom it came. So dreadful -had been the effect of the scene at the confessional, that the thought -of the near presence of her lover brought only terror. She turned pale; -her hands shook. She shut her eyes, and prayed that she might not be -left to read the paper; and then, summoning all her resolution, she -threw the bouquet with force over the wall. It dropped down, down, down -the gloomy, shadowy abyss, and was lost in the damp caverns below. - -The cavalier stood without the wall, waiting for some responsive -signal in reply to his missive. It had never occurred to him that Agnes -would not even read it, and he stood confounded when he saw it thrown -back with such apparent rudeness. He remembered her pale, terrified -look on seeing him in the morning. It was not indifference or dislike, -but mortal fear, that had been shown in that pale face. - -"These wretches are practicing on her," he said, in wrath, "filling her -head with frightful images, and torturing her sensitive conscience till -she sees sin in the most natural and innocent feelings." - -He had learned from Father Antonio the intention of Agnes to go on a -pilgrimage, and he longed to see and talk with her, that he might offer -her his protection against dangers which he understood far better than -she. It had never even occurred to him that the door for all possible -communication would be thus suddenly barred in his face. - -"Very well," he said to himself, with a darkening brow, "let them have -it their own way here. She must pass through my dominions before she -can reach Rome, and I will find a place where I _can_ be heard, without -priest or grandmother to let or hinder. She is mine, and I will care -for her." - -But poor Agnes had the woman's share of the misery to bear, in the -fear and self-reproach and distress which every movement of this kind -cost her. The involuntary thrill at seeing her lover, at hearing from -him, the conscious struggle which it cost her to throw back his gift, -were all noted by her accusing conscience as so many sins. The next -day she sought again her confessor, and began an entrance on those -darker and more chilly paths of penance, by which, according to the -opinion of her times, the peculiarly elect of the Lord were supposed -to be best trained. Hitherto her religion had been the cheerful and -natural expression of her tender and devout nature, according to the -more beautiful and engaging devotional forms of her Church. During the -year when her confessor had been, unconsciously to himself, led by her -instead of leading, her spiritual food had been its beautiful old hymns -and prayers, which she found no weariness in often repeating. But now -an unnatural conflict was begun in her mind, directed by a spiritual -guide in whom every natural and normal movement of the soul had given -way before a succession of morbid and unhealthful experiences. From -that day Agnes wore upon her heart one of those sharp instruments of -torture which in those items were supposed to be a means of inward -grace,--a cross with seven steel points for the seven sorrows of Mary. -She fasted with a severity which alarmed her grandmother, who in her -inmost heart cursed the day that ever she had placed her in the way of -saintship. - -"All this will just end in spoiling her beauty,--making her as thin as -a shadow," said Elsie; "and she was good enough before." - -But it did not spoil her beauty, it only changed its character. The -roundness and bloom melted away, but there came in their stead that -solemn, transparent clearness of countenance, that spiritual light and -radiance, which the old Florentine painters gave to their Madonnas. - -It is singular how all religious exercises and appliances take the -character of the nature that uses them. The pain and penance, which so -many in her day bore as a cowardly expedient for averting divine wrath, -seemed, as she viewed them, a humble way of becoming associated in the -sufferings of her Redeemer. "_Jesu dulcis memoria_," was the thought -that carried a redeeming sweetness with every pain. Could she thus, by -suffering with her Lord, gain power like Him to save,--a power which -should save that soul so dear and so endangered! "Ah," she thought, "I -would give my life-blood, drop by drop, if only it might avail for his -salvation!" - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -FLORENCE AND HER PROPHET - - -It was drawing towards evening, as two travelers, approaching Florence -from the south, checked their course on the summit of one of the circle -of hills which command a view of the city, and seemed to look down upon -it with admiration. One of these was our old friend Father Antonio, -and the other the cavalier. The former was mounted on an ambling mule, -whose easy pace suited well with his meditative habits; while the other -reined in a high-mettled steed, who, though now somewhat jaded under -the fatigue of a long journey, showed by a series of little lively -motions of his ears and tail, and by pawing the ground impatiently, -that he had the inexhaustible stock of spirits which goes with good -blood. - -"There she lies, my Florence," said the monk, stretching his hands out -with enthusiasm. "Is she not indeed a sheltered lily growing fair among -the hollows of the mountains? Little she may be, sir, compared to old -Rome; but every inch of her is a gem,--every inch!" - -And, in truth, the scene was worthy of the artist's enthusiasm. All -the overhanging hills that encircle the city with their silvery -olive-gardens and their pearl-white villas were now lighted up with -evening glory. The old gray walls of the convents of San Miniato and -the Monte Oliveto were touched with yellow; and even the black obelisks -of the cypresses in their cemeteries had here and there streaks and -dots of gold, fluttering like bright birds among their gloomy branches. -The distant snow-peaks of the Apennines, which even in spring long -wear their icy mantles, were shimmering and changing like an opal ring -with tints of violet, green, blue, and rose, blended in inexpressible -softness by that dreamy haze which forms the peculiar feature of -Italian skies. - -In this loving embrace of mountains lay the city, divided by the Arno -as by a line of rosy crystal barred by the graceful arches of its -bridges. Amid the crowd of palaces and spires and towers rose central -and conspicuous the great Duomo, just crowned with that magnificent -dome which was then considered a novelty and a marvel in architecture, -and which Michel Angelo looked longingly back upon when he was going -to Rome to build that more wondrous orb of Saint Peter's. White and -stately by its side shot up the airy shaft of the Campanile; and the -violet vapor swathing the whole city in a tender indistinctness, these -two striking objects, rising by their magnitude far above it, seemed to -stand alone in a sort of airy grandeur. - -And now the bells of the churches were sounding the Ave Maria, filling -the air with sweet and solemn vibrations, as if angels were passing -to and fro overhead, harping as they went; and ever and anon the -great bell of the Campanile came pulsing in with a throb of sound of -a quality so different that one hushed one's breath to hear. It might -be fancied to be the voice of one of those kingly archangels that one -sees drawn by the old Florentine religious artists,--a voice grave and -unearthly, and with a plaintive undertone of divine mystery. - -The monk and the cavalier bent low in their saddles, and seemed to join -devoutly in the worship of the hour. - -One need not wonder at the enthusiasm of the returning pilgrim of -those days for the city of his love, who feels the charm that lingers -around that beautiful place even in modern times. Never was there a -spot to which the heart could insensibly grow with a more home-like -affection,--never one more thoroughly consecrated in every stone by -the sacred touch of genius. - -A republic, in the midst of contending elements, the history of -Florence, in the Middle Ages, was a history of what shoots and blossoms -the Italian nature might send forth, when rooted in the rich soil -of liberty. It was a city of poets and artists. Its statesmen, its -merchants, its common artisans, and the very monks in its convents, -were all pervaded by one spirit. The men of Florence in its best -days were men of a large, grave, earnest mould. What the Puritans -of New England wrought out with severest earnestness in their -reasonings and their lives, these early Puritans of Italy embodied -in poetry, sculpture, and painting. They built their Cathedral and -their Campanile, as the Jews of old built their Temple, with awe and -religious fear, that they might thus express by costly and imperishable -monuments their sense of God's majesty and beauty. The modern traveler -who visits the churches and convents of Florence, or the museums -where are preserved the fading remains of its early religious Art, if -he be a person of any sensibility, cannot fail to be affected with -the intense gravity and earnestness which pervade them. They seem -less to be paintings for the embellishment of life than eloquent -picture-writing by which burning religious souls sought to preach the -truths of the invisible world to the eye of the multitude. Through all -the deficiencies of perspective, coloring, and outline incident to the -childhood and early youth of Art, one feels the passionate purpose -of some lofty soul to express ideas of patience, self-sacrifice, -adoration, and aspiration far transcending the limits of mortal -capability. - -The angels and celestial beings of these grave old painters are as -different from the fat little pink Cupids or lovely laughing children -of Titian and Correggio as are the sermons of President Edwards from -the love-songs of Tom Moore. These old seers of the pencil give you -grave, radiant beings, strong as man, fine as woman, sweeping downward -in lines of floating undulation, and seeming by the ease with which -they remain poised in the air to feel none of that earthly attraction -which draws material bodies earthward. Whether they wear the morning -star on their forehead or bear the lily or the sword in their hand, -there is still that suggestion of mystery and power about them, that -air of dignity and repose, that speak the children of a nobler race -than ours. One could well believe such a being might pass in his serene -poised majesty of motion through the walls of a gross material dwelling -without deranging one graceful fold of his swaying robe or unclasping -the hands folded quietly on his bosom. Well has a modern master of art -and style said of these old artists, "Many pictures are ostentatious -exhibitions of the artist's power of speech, the clear and vigorous -elocution of useless and senseless words; while the earlier efforts of -Giotto and Cimabue are the burning messages of prophecy delivered by -the stammering lips of infants." - -But at the time of which we write, Florence had passed through her -ages of primitive religious and republican simplicity, and was fast -hastening to her downfall. The genius, energy, and prophetic enthusiasm -of Savonarola had made, it is true, a desperate rally on the verge of -the precipice; but no one man has ever power to turn back the downward -slide of a whole generation. - -When Father Antonio left Sorrento in company with the cavalier, it -was the intention of the latter to go with him only so far as their -respective routes should lie together. The band under the command of -Agostino was posted in a ruined fortress in one of those airily perched -old mountain-towns which form so picturesque and characteristic a -feature of the Italian landscape. But before they reached this spot, -the simple, poetic, guileless monk, with his fresh artistic nature, -had so won upon his traveling companion that a most enthusiastic -friendship had sprung up between them, and Agostino could not find it -in his heart at once to separate from him. Tempest-tossed and homeless, -burning with a sense of wrong, alienated from the faith of his fathers -through his intellect and moral sense, yet clinging to it with his -memory and imagination, he found in the tender devotional fervor of -the artist monk a reconciling and healing power. He shared, too, in -no small degree, the feelings which now possessed the breast of his -companion for the great reformer whose purpose seemed to meditate -nothing less than the restoration of the Church of Italy to the -primitive apostolic simplicity. He longed to see him,--to listen to the -eloquence of which he had heard so much. Then, too, he had thoughts -that but vaguely shaped themselves in his mind. This noble man, so -brave and courageous, menaced by the forces of a cruel tyranny, might -he not need the protection of a good sword? He recollected, too, that -he had an uncle high in the favor of the King of France, to whom he had -written a full account of his own situation. Might he not be of use in -urging this uncle to induce the French King to throw before Savonarola -the shield of his protection? At all events, he entered Florence this -evening with the burning zeal of a young neophyte who hopes to effect -something himself for a glorious and sacred cause embodied in a leader -who commands his deepest veneration. - -"My son," said Father Antonio, as they raised their heads after the -evening prayer, "I am at this time like a man who, having long been -away from his home, fears, on returning, that he shall hear some evil -tidings of those he hath left. I long, yet dread, to go to my dear -Father Girolamo and the beloved brothers in our house. There is a -presage that lies heavy on my heart, so that I cannot shake it off. -Look at our glorious old Duomo;--doth she not sit there among the -houses and palaces as a queen-mother among nations,--worthy, in her -greatness and beauty, to represent the Church of the New Jerusalem, the -Bride of the Lord? Ah, I have seen it thronged and pressed with the -multitude who came to crave the bread of life from our master!" - -"Courage, my friend!" said Agostino; "it cannot be that Florence -will suffer her pride and glory to be trodden down. Let us hasten -on, for the shades of evening are coming fast, and there is a keen -wind sweeping down from your snowy mountains." And the two soon found -themselves plunging into the shadows of the streets, threading their -devious way to the convent. - -At length they drew up before a dark wall, where the Father Antonio -rung a bell. - -A door was immediately opened, a cowled head appeared, and a cautious -voice asked,-- - -"Who is there?" - -"Ah, is that you, good Brother Angelo?" said Father Antonio, cheerily. - -"And is it you, dear Brother Antonio? Come in! come in!" was the -cordial response, as the two passed into the court; "truly, it will -make all our hearts leap to see you." - -"And, Brother Angelo, how is our dear father? I have been so anxious -about him!" - -"Oh, fear not!--he sustains himself in God, and is full of sweetness to -us all." - -"But do the people stand by him, Angelo, and the Signoria?" - -"He has strong friends as yet, but his enemies are like ravening -wolves. The Pope hath set on the Franciscans, and they hunt him as -dogs do a good stag. But whom have you here with you?" added the monk, -raising his torch and regarding the knight. - -"Fear him not; he is a brave knight and good Christian, who comes to -offer his sword to our father and seek his counsels." - -"He shall be welcome," said the porter, cheerfully. "We will have you -into the refectory forthwith, for you must be hungry." - -The young cavalier, following the flickering torch of his conductor, -had only a dim notion of long cloistered corridors, out of which now -and then, as the light flared by, came a golden gleam from some quaint -old painting, where the pure angel forms of Angelico stood in the -gravity of an immortal youth, or the Madonna, like a bending lily, -awaited the message of Heaven; but when they entered the refectory, a -cheerful voice addressed them, and Father Antonio was clasped in the -embrace of the father so much beloved. - -"Welcome, welcome, my dear son!" said that rich voice which had -thrilled so many thousand Italian hearts with its music. "So you are -come back to the fold again. How goes the good work of the Lord?" - -"Well, everywhere," said Father Antonio, and then, recollecting his -young friend, he suddenly turned and said,-- - -"Let me present to you one son who comes to seek your -instructions,--the young Signor Agostino, of the noble house of -Sarelli." - -The Superior turned to Agostino with a movement full of a generous -frankness, and warmly extended his hand, at the same time fixing upon -him the mesmeric glance of a pair of large, deep blue eyes, which -might, on slight observation, have been mistaken for black, so great -was their depth and brilliancy. - -Agostino surveyed his new acquaintance with that mingling of ingenuous -respect and curiosity with which an ardent young man would regard -the most distinguished leader of his age, and felt drawn to him by a -certain atmosphere of vital cordiality such as one can feel better than -describe. - -"You have ridden far to-day, my son,--you must be weary," said the -Superior, affably; "but here you must feel yourself at home; command -us in anything we can do for you. The brothers will attend to those -refreshments which are needed after so long a journey; and when you -have rested and supped, we shall hope to see you a little more quietly." - -So saying, he signed to one or two brothers who stood by, and, -commending the travelers to their care, left the apartment. - -In a few moments a table was spread with a plain and wholesome repast, -to which the two travelers sat down with appetites sharpened by their -long journey. - -During the supper, the brothers of the convent, among whom Father -Antonio had always been a favorite, crowded around him in a state of -eager excitement. - -"You should have been here the last week," said one; "such a turmoil as -we have been in!" - -"Yes," said another, "the Pope hath set on the Franciscans, who, you -know, are always ready enough to take up with anything against our -order, and they have been pursuing our father like so many hounds." - -"There hath been a whirlwind of preaching here and there," said a -third, "in the Duomo, and Santa Croce, and San Lorenzo; and they have -battled to and fro, and all the city is full of it." - -"Tell him about yesterday, about the ordeal," shouted an eager voice. - -Two or three voices took up the story at once, and began to tell it, -all the others correcting, contradicting, or adding incidents. From -the confused fragments here and there Agostino gathered that there -had been on the day before a popular spectacle in the grand piazza, -in which, according to an old superstition of the Middle Ages, Fra -Girolamo Savonarola and his opponents were expected to prove the truth -of their words by passing unhurt through the fire; that two immense -piles of combustibles had been constructed with a narrow passage -between, and the whole magistracy of the city convened, with a throng -of the populace, eager for the excitement of the spectacle; that the -day had been spent in discussions, and scruples, and preliminaries; and -that, finally, in the afternoon, a violent storm of rain arising had -dispersed the multitude and put a stop to the whole exhibition. - -"But the people are not satisfied," said Father Angelo; "and there are -enough mischief-makers among them to throw all the blame on our father." - -"Yes," said one, "they say he wanted to burn the Holy Sacrament, -because he was going to take it with him into the fire." - -"As if it could burn!" said another voice. - -"It would to all human appearance, I suppose," said a third. - -"Any way," said a fourth, "there is some mischief brewing; for here is -our friend Prospero Rondinelli just come in, who says, when he came -past the Duomo, he saw people gathering, and heard them threatening us: -there were as many as two hundred, he thought." - -"We ought to tell Father Girolamo," exclaimed several voices. - -"Oh, he will not be disturbed!" said Father Angelo. Since these -affairs, he hath been in prayer in the chapter-room before the blessed -Angelico's picture of the Cross. When we would talk with him of these -things, he waves us away, and says only, 'I am weary; go and tell -Jesus.'" - -"He bade me come to him after supper," said Father Antonio. "I will -talk with him." - -"Do so,--that is right," said two or three eager voices as the monk and -Agostino, having finished their repast, arose to be conducted to the -presence of the father. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE ATTACK ON SAN MARCO - - -They found him in a large and dimly lighted apartment, sitting absorbed -in pensive contemplation before a picture of the Crucifixion by Fra -Angelico, which, whatever might be its _naive_ faults of drawing and -perspective, had an intense earnestness of feeling, and, though faded -and dimmed by the lapse of centuries, still stirs in some faint wise -even the practiced _dilettanti_ of our day. - -The face upon the cross, with its majestic patience, seemed to shed a -blessing down on the company of saints of all ages who were grouped by -their representative men at the foot. Saint Dominic, Saint Ambrose, -Saint Augustin, Saint Jerome, Saint Francis, and Saint Benedict were -depicted as standing before the Great Sacrifice in company with -the Twelve Apostles, the two Maries, and the fainting mother of -Jesus,--thus expressing the unity of the Church Universal in that -great victory of sorrow and glory. The painting was enclosed above by -a semicircular bordering composed of medallion heads of the Prophets, -and below was a similar medallion border of the principal saints and -worthies of the Dominican order. In our day such pictures are visited -by tourists with red guide-books in their hands, who survey them in the -intervals of careless conversation; but they were painted by the simple -artist on his knees, weeping and praying as he worked, and the sight -of them was accepted by like simple-hearted Christians as a perpetual -sacrament of the eye, by which they received Christ into their souls. - -So absorbed was the father in the contemplation of this picture, that -he did not hear the approaching footsteps of the knight and monk. When -at last they came so near as almost to touch him, he suddenly looked -up, and it became apparent that his eyes were full of tears. - -He rose, and, pointing with a mute gesture toward the painting, said,-- - -"There is more in that than in all Michel Angelo Buonarotti hath done -yet, though he be a God-fearing youth,--more than in all the heathen -marbles in Lorenzo's gardens. But sit down with me here. I have to come -here often, where I can refresh my courage." - -The monk and knight seated themselves, the latter with his attention -riveted on the remarkable man before him. The head and face of -Savonarola are familiar to us by many paintings and medallions, which, -however, fail to impart what must have been that effect of his personal -presence which so drew all hearts to him in his day. The knight saw -a man of middle age, of elastic, well-knit figure, and a flexibility -and grace of motion which seemed to make every nerve, even to his -finger-ends, vital with the expression of his soul. The close-shaven -crown and the plain white Dominican robe gave a severe and statuesque -simplicity to the lines of his figure. His head and face, like those -of most of the men of genius whom modern Italy has produced, were so -strongly cast in the antique mould as to leave no doubt of the identity -of modern Italian blood with that of the great men of ancient Italy. -His low, broad forehead, prominent Roman nose, well-cut, yet fully -outlined lips, and strong, finely moulded jaw and chin, all spoke the -old Roman vigor and energy, while the flexible delicacy of all the -muscles of his face and figure gave an inexpressible fascination to -his appearance. Every emotion and changing thought seemed to flutter -and tremble over his countenance as the shadow of leaves over sunny -water. His eye had a wonderful dilating power, and when he was excited -seemed to shower sparks; and his voice possessed a surprising scale of -delicate and melodious inflections, which could take him in a moment -through the whole range of human feeling, whether playful and tender or -denunciatory and terrible. Yet, when in repose among his friends, there -was an almost childlike simplicity and artlessness of manner which drew -the heart by an irresistible attraction. At this moment it was easy to -see by his pale cheek and the furrowed lines of his face that he had -been passing through severe struggles; but his mind seemed stayed on -some invisible centre, in a solemn and mournful calm. - -"Come, tell me something of the good works of the Lord in our Italy, -brother," he said, with a smile which was almost playful in its -brightness. "You have been through all the lowly places of the land, -carrying our Lord's bread to the poor, and repairing and beautifying -shrines and altars by the noble gift that is in you." - -"Yes, father," said the monk; "and I have found that there are many -sheep of the Lord that feed quietly among the mountains of Italy, and -love nothing so much as to hear of the dear Shepherd who laid down His -life for them." - -"Even so, even so," said the Superior, with animation; "and it is the -thought of these sweet hearts that comforts me when my soul is among -lions. The foundation standeth sure,--the Lord knoweth them that are -his." - -"And it is good and encouraging," said Father Antonio, "to see the -zeal of the poor, who will give their last penny for the altar of the -Lord, and who flock so to hear the word and take the sacraments. I have -had precious seasons of preaching and confessing, and have worked in -blessedness many days restoring and beautifying the holy pictures and -statues whereby these little ones have been comforted. What with the -wranglings of princes and the factions and disturbances in our poor -Italy, there be many who suffer in want and loss of all things, so that -no refuge remains to them but the altars of our Jesus, and none cares -for them but He." - -"Brother," said the Superior, "there be thousands of flowers fairer -than man ever saw that grow up in waste places and in deep dells -and shades of mountains; but God bears each one in his heart, and -delighteth Himself in silence with them: and so doth He with these -poor, simple, unknown souls. The True Church is not a flaunting queen -who goes boldly forth among men displaying her beauties, but a veiled -bride, a dove that is in the cleft of the rocks, whose voice is known -only to the Beloved. Ah! when shall the great marriage-feast come, when -all shall behold her glorified? I had hoped to see the day here in -Italy: but now"-- - -The father stopped, and seemed to lapse into unconscious musing,--his -large eye growing fixed and mysterious in its expression. - -"The brothers have been telling me somewhat of the tribulations you -have been through," said Father Antonio, who thought he saw a good -opening to introduce the subject nearest his heart. - -"No more of that!--no more!" said the Superior, turning away his head -with an expression of pain and weariness, "rather let us look up. What -think you, brother, are all _these_ doing now?" he said, pointing -to the saints in the picture. "They are all alive and well, and see -clearly through our darkness." Then, rising up, he added, solemnly, -"Whatever man may say or do, it is enough for me to feel that my -dearest Lord and his blessed Mother and all the holy archangels, the -martyrs and prophets and apostles, are with me. The end is coming." - -"But, dearest father," said Antonio, "think you the Lord will suffer -the wicked to prevail?" - -"It may be for a time," said Savonarola. "As for me, I am in His hands -only as an instrument. He is master of the forge and handles the -hammer, and when He has done using it He casts it from Him. Thus He -did with Jeremiah, whom He permitted to be stoned to death when his -preaching mission was accomplished; and thus He may do with _this_ -hammer when He has done using it." - -At this moment a monk rushed into the room with a face expressive of -the utmost terror, and called out,-- - -"Father, what shall we do? The mob are surrounding the convent! Hark! -hear them at the doors!" - -In truth, a wild, confused roar of mingled shrieks, cries, and blows -came in through the open door of the apartment; and the pattering sound -of approaching footsteps was heard like showering rain-drops along the -cloisters. - -"Here come Messer Nicolo de' Lapi, and Francesco Valori!" called out a -voice. - -The room was soon filled with a confused crowd, consisting of -distinguished Florentine citizens, who had gained admittance through a -secret passage, and the excited novices and monks. - -"The streets outside the convent are packed close with men," cried one -of the citizens; "they have stationed guards everywhere to cut off our -friends who might come to help us." - -"I saw them seize a young man who was quietly walking, singing psalms, -and slay him on the steps of the Church of the Innocents," said -another; "they cried and hooted, 'No more psalm-singing!'" - -"And there's Arnolfo Battista," said a third;--"he went out to try -to speak to them, and they have killed him,--cut him down with their -sabres." - -"Hurry! hurry! barricade the door! arm yourselves!" was the cry from -other voices. - -"Shall we fight, father? Shall we defend ourselves?" cried others, as -the monks pressed around their Superior. - -When the crowd first burst into the room, the face of the Superior -flushed, and there was a slight movement of surprise; then he seemed to -recollect himself, and murmuring, "I expected this, but not so soon," -appeared lost in mental prayer. To the agitated inquiries of his flock, -he answered, "No, brothers; the weapons of monks must be spiritual, not -carnal." Then lifting on high a crucifix, he said, "Come with me, and -let us walk in solemn procession to the altar, singing the praises of -our God." - -The monks, with the instinctive habit of obedience, fell into -procession behind their leader, whose voice, clear and strong, was -heard raising the Psalm, "_Quare fremunt gentes_:"-- - -"Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing? - -"The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel -together, against the Lord, and against his Anointed, saying,-- - -"Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us. - -"He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: the Lord shall have them -in derision." - -As one voice after another took up the chant, the solemn enthusiasm -rose and deepened, and all present, whether ecclesiastics or -laymen, fell into the procession and joined in the anthem. Amid the -wild uproar, the din and clatter of axes, the thunders of heavy -battering-implements on the stone walls and portals, came this -long-drawn solemn wave of sound, rising and falling,--now drowned in -the savage clamors of the mob, and now bursting out clear and full like -the voices of God's chosen amid the confusion and struggles of all the -generations of this mortal life. - -White-robed and grand the procession moved on, while the pictured -saints and angels on the walls seemed to smile calmly down upon them -from a golden twilight. They passed thus into the sacristy, where with -all solemnity and composure they arrayed their Father and Superior -for the last time in his sacramental robes, and then, still chanting, -followed him to the high altar, where all bowed in prayer. And still, -whenever there was a pause in the stormy uproar and fiendish clamor, -might be heard the clear, plaintive uprising of that strange singing, -"O Lord, save thy people, and bless thine heritage!" - -It needs not to tell in detail what history has told of that tragic -night: how the doors at last were forced, and the mob rushed in; how -citizens and friends, and many of the monks themselves, their instinct -of combativeness overcoming their spiritual beliefs, fought valiantly, -and used torches and crucifixes for purposes little contemplated when -they were made. - -Fiercest among the combatants was Agostino, who three times drove -back the crowd as they were approaching the choir, where Savonarola -and his immediate friends were still praying. Father Antonio, too, -seized a sword from the hand of a fallen man and laid about him with -an impetuosity which would be inexplicable to any who do not know what -force there is in gentle natures when the objects of their affections -are assailed. The artist monk fought for his master with the blind -desperation with which a woman fights over the cradle of her child. - -All in vain! Past midnight, and the news comes that artillery is -planted to blow down the walls of the convent, and the magistracy, who -up to this time have lifted not a finger to repress the tumult, send -word to Savonarola to surrender himself to them, together with the two -most active of his companions, Fra Domenico da Pescia and Fra Silvestro -Maruffi, as the only means of averting the destruction of the whole -order. They offer him assurances of protection and safe return, which -he does not in the least believe: nevertheless, he feels that his hour -is come, and gives himself up. - -His preparations were all made with a solemn method which showed that -he felt he was approaching the last act in the drama of life. He called -together his flock, scattered and forlorn, and gave them his last -words of fatherly advice, encouragement, and comfort,--ending with the -remarkable declaration, "A Christian's life consists in doing good and -suffering evil." "I go with joy to this marriage-supper," he said, as -he left the church for the last sad preparations. He and his doomed -friends then confessed and received the sacrament, and after that -he surrendered himself into the hands of the men who he felt in his -prophetic soul had come to take him to torture and to death. - -As he gave himself into their hands, he said, "I commend to your care -this flock of mine, and these good citizens of Florence who have been -with us;" and then once more turning to his brethren, said, "Doubt not, -my brethren. God will not fail to perfect His work. Whether I live or -die, He will aid and console you." - -At this moment there was a struggle with the attendants in the outer -circle of the crowd, and the voice of Father Antonio was heard crying -out earnestly, "Do not hold me! I will go with him! I must go with him!" - -"Son," said Savonarola, "I charge you on your obedience not to come. It -is I and Fra Domenico who are to die for the love of Christ." And thus, -at the ninth hour of the night, he passed the threshold of San Marco. - -As he was leaving, a plaintive voice of distress was heard from a young -novice who had been peculiarly dear to him, who stretched his hands -after him, crying, "Father! father! why do you leave us desolate?" -Whereupon he turned back a moment, and said, "God will be your help. -If we do not see each other again in this world, we surely shall in -heaven." - -When the party had gone forth, the monks and citizens stood looking -into each other's faces, listening with dismay to the howl of wild -ferocity that was rising around the departing prisoner. - -"What shall we do?" was the outcry from many voices. - -"I know what I shall do," said Agostino. "If any man here will find me -a fleet horse, I will start for Milan this very hour; for my uncle is -now there on a visit, and he is a counselor of weight with the King of -France: we must get the King to interfere." - -"Good! good! good!" rose from a hundred voices. - -"I will go with you," said Father Antonio. "I shall have no rest till I -do something." - -"And I," quoth Jacopo Niccolini, "will saddle for you, without delay, -two horses of part Arabian blood, swift of foot, and easy, and which -will travel day and night without sinking." - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE CATHEDRAL - - -The rays of the setting sun were imparting even more than their wonted -cheerfulness to the airy and bustling streets of Milan. There was the -usual rush and roar of busy life which mark the great city, and the -display of gay costumes and brilliant trappings proper to a ducal -capital which at that time gave the law to Europe in all matters of -taste and elegance, even as Paris does now. It was, in fact, from the -reputation of this city in matters of external show that our English -term Milliner was probably derived; and one might well have believed -this, who saw the sweep of the ducal cortege at this moment returning -in pomp from the afternoon airing. Such glittering of gold-embroidered -mantles, such bewildering confusion of colors, such flashing of jewelry -from cap and dagger-hilt and finger-ring, and even from bridle and -stirrup, testified that the male sex at this period in Italy were no -whit behind the daughters of Eve in that passion for personal adornment -which our age is wont to consider exclusively feminine. Indeed, -all that was visible to the vulgar eye of this pageant was wholly -masculine; though no one doubted that behind the gold-embroidered -curtains of the litters which contained the female notabilities of the -court still more dazzling wonders might be concealed. Occasionally -a white jeweled hand would draw aside one of these screens, and a -pair of eyes brighter than any gems would peer forth; and then there -would be tokens of a visible commotion among the plumed and gemmed -cavaliers around, and one young head would nod to another with jests -and quips, and there would be bowing and curveting and all the antics -and caracolings supposable among gay young people on whom the sun shone -brightly, and who felt the world going well around them, and deemed -themselves the observed of all observers. - -Meanwhile, the mute, subservient common people looked on all this as -a part of their daily amusement. Meek dwellers in those dank, noisome -caverns, without any opening but a street-door, which are called -dwelling-places in Italy, they lived in uninquiring good-nature, -contentedly bringing up children on coarse bread, dirty cabbage-stumps, -and other garbage, while all that they could earn was sucked upward by -capillary attraction to nourish the extravagance of those upper classes -on which they stared with such blind and ignorant admiration. - -This was the lot they believed themselves born for, and which every -exhortation of their priests taught them to regard as the appointed -ordinance of God. The women, to be sure, as women always will be, -were true to the instinct of their sex, and crawled out of the damp -and vile-smelling recesses of their homes with solid gold ear-rings -shaking in their ears, and their blue-black lustrous hair ornamented -with a glittering circle of steel pins or other quaint coiffure. -There was sense in all this: for had not even Dukes of Milan been -found so condescending and affable as to admire the charms of the -fair in the lower orders, whence had come sons and daughters who took -rank among princes and princesses? What father, or what husband, -would be insensible to prospects of such honor? What priest would -not readily absolve such sin? Therefore one might have observed more -than one comely dark-eyed woman, brilliant as some tropical bird in -the colors of her peasant dress, who cast coquettish glances toward -high places, not unacknowledged by patronizing nods in return, while -mothers and fathers looked on in triumph. These were the days for -the upper classes; the Church bore them all in her bosom as a tender -nursing-mother, and provided for all their little peccadilloes with -even grandmotherly indulgence, and in return the world was immensely -deferential towards the Church; and it was only now and then some -rugged John Baptist, in raiment of camel's hair, like Savonarola, -who dared to speak an indecorous word of God's truth in the ear of -power, and Herod and Herodias had ever at hand the good old recipe for -quieting such disturbances. John Baptist was beheaded in prison, and -then all the world and all the Scribes and Pharisees applauded; and -only a few poor disciples were found to take up the body and go and -tell Jesus. - -The whole piazza around the great Cathedral is at this moment full of -the dashing cavalcade of the ducal court, looking as brilliant in the -evening light as a field of poppy, corn-flower, and scarlet clover -at Sorrento; and there, amid the flutter and rush, the amours and -intrigues, the court scandal, the laughing, the gibing, the glitter, -and dazzle, stands that wonderful Cathedral, that silent witness, that -strange, pure, immaculate mountain of airy, unearthly loveliness,--the -most striking emblem of God's mingled vastness and sweetness that -ever it was given to human heart to devise or hands to execute. If -there be among the many mansions of our Father above, among the houses -not made with hands, aught purer and fairer, it must be the work of -those grand spirits who inspired and presided over the erection of -this celestial miracle of beauty. In the great, vain, wicked city, -all alive with the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the -pride of life, it seemed to stand as much apart and alone as if it -were in the solemn desolation of the Campagna, or in one of the wide -deserts of Africa,--so little part or lot did it appear to have in -anything earthly, so little to belong to the struggling, bustling -crowd who beneath its white dazzling pinnacles seemed dwarfed into -crawling insects. They who could look up from the dizzy, frivolous -life below saw far, far above them, in the blue Italian air, thousands -of glorified saints standing on a thousand airy points of brilliant -whiteness, ever solemnly adoring. The marble which below was somewhat -touched and soiled with the dust of the street seemed gradually to -refine and brighten as it rose into the pure regions of the air, -till at last in those thousand distant pinnacles it had the ethereal -translucence of wintry frost-work, and now began to glow with the -violet and rose hues of evening, in solemn splendor. - -The ducal cortege sweeps by; but we have mounted the dizzy, dark -staircase that leads to the roof, where, amid the bustling life of the -city there is a promenade of still and wondrous solitude. One seems -to have ascended in those few moments far beyond the tumult and dust -of earthly things, to the silence, the clearness, the tranquillity of -ethereal regions. The noise of the rushing tides of life below rises -only in a soft and distant murmur; while around, in the wide, clear -distance, is spread a prospect which has not on earth its like or its -equal. The beautiful plains of Lombardy lie beneath like a map, and the -northern horizon-line is glittering with the entire sweep of the Alps, -like a solemn senate of archangels with diamond mail and glittering -crowns. Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa with its countenance of light, the -Jungfrau and all the weird brothers of the Oberland, rise one after -another to the delighted gaze, and the range of the Tyrol melts far off -into the blue of the sky. On another side, the Apennines, with their -picturesque outlines and cloud-spotted sides, complete the enclosure. -All around, wherever the eye turns, is the unbroken phalanx of -mountains; and this temple, with its thousand saintly statues standing -in attitudes of ecstasy and prayer, seems like a worthy altar and -shrine for the beautiful plain which the mountains enclose: it seems to -give all Northern Italy to God. - -The effect of the statues in this high, pure air, in this solemn, -glorious scenery, is peculiar. They seem a meet companionship for -these exalted regions. They seem to stand exultant on their spires, -poised lightly as ethereal creatures, the fit inhabitants of the pure -blue sky. One feels that they have done with earth; one can fancy -them a band of white-robed kings and priests forever ministering in -that great temple of which the Alps and the Apennines are the walls -and the Cathedral the heart and centre. Never were Art and Nature so -majestically married by Religion in so worthy a temple. - -One form could be discerned standing in rapt attention, gazing from a -platform on the roof upon the far-distant scene. He was enveloped in -the white coarse woolen gown of the Dominican monks, and seemed wholly -absorbed in meditating on the scene before him, which appeared to move -him deeply; for, raising his hands, he repeated aloud from the Latin -Vulgate the words of an Apostle:-- - -"Accessistis ad Sion montem et civitatem Dei viventis, Jerusalem -caelestem, et multorum millium angelorum frequentiam, ecclesiam -primitivorum, qui inscripti sunt in caelis."[11] - - [11] "Ye are come unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the - living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable - company of angels, to the general assembly and church of - the first-born, which are written in heaven." - -At this moment the evening worship commenced within the Cathedral, and -the whole building seemed to vibrate with the rising swell of the great -organ, while the grave, long-drawn tones of the Ambrosian Liturgy rose -surging in waves and dying away in distant murmurs, like the rolling -of the tide on some ocean-shore. The monk turned and drew near to the -central part of the roof to listen, and as he turned he disclosed the -well-known features of Father Antonio. - -Haggard, weary, and travel-worn, his first impulse, on entering the -city, was to fly to this holy solitude, as the wandering sparrow of -sacred song sought her nest amid the altars of God's temple. Artist no -less than monk, he found in this wondrous shrine of beauty a repose -both for his artistic and his religious nature; and while waiting for -Agostino Sarelli to find his uncle's residence, he had determined to -pass the interval in this holy solitude. Many hours had he paced alone -up and down the long promenades of white marble which run everywhere -between forests of dazzling pinnacles and flying buttresses of airy -lightness. Now he rested in fixed attention against the wall above the -choir, which he could feel pulsating with throbs of sacred sound, as if -a great warm heart were beating within the fair marble miracle, warming -it into mysterious life and sympathy. - -"I would now that boy were here to worship with me," he said. "No -wonder the child's faith fainteth: it takes such monuments as these of -the Church's former days to strengthen one's hopes. Ah, woe unto those -by whom such offense cometh!" - -At this moment the form of Agostino was seen ascending the marble -staircase. - -The eye of the monk brightened as he came towards him. He put out -one hand eagerly to take his, and raised the other with a gesture of -silence. - -"Look," he said, "and listen! Is it not the sound of many waters and -mighty thunderings?" - -Agostino stood subdued for the moment by the magnificent sights -and sounds; for, as the sun went down, the distant mountains grew -every moment more unearthly in their brilliancy; and as they lay in -a long line, jeweled brightness mingling with the cloud-wreaths of -the far horizon, one might have imagined that he in truth beheld the -foundations of that celestial city of jasper, pearl, and translucent -gold which the Apostle saw, and that the risings and fallings of -choral sound which seemed to thrill and pulsate through the marble -battlements were indeed that song like many waters sung by the Church -Triumphant above. - -For a few moments the monk and the young man stood in silence, till at -length the monk spoke. - -"You have told me, my son, that your heart often troubles you in being -more Roman than Christian; that you sometimes doubt whether the Church -on earth be other than a fiction or a fable. But look around us. Who -are these, this great multitude who praise and pray continually in this -temple of the upper air? These are they who have come out of great -tribulation, having washed their robes and made them white in the blood -of the Lamb. These are not the men that have sacked cities, and made -deserts, and written their triumphs in blood and carnage. These be men -that have sheltered the poor, and built houses for orphans, and sold -themselves into slavery to redeem their brothers in Christ. These be -pure women who have lodged saints, brought up children, lived holy and -prayerful lives. These be martyrs who have laid down their lives for -the testimony of Jesus. There were no such churches in old Rome,--no -such saints." - -"Well," said Agostino, "one thing is certain. If such be the True -Church, the Pope and the Cardinals of our day have no part in it; for -they are the men who sack cities and make desolations, who devour -widows' houses and for a pretense make long prayers. Let us see one of -_them_ selling himself into slavery for the love of anybody, while they -seek to keep all the world in slavery to themselves!" - -"That is the grievous declension our master weeps over," said the -monk. "Ah, if the Bishops of the Church now were like brave old Saint -Ambrose, strong alone by faith and prayer, showing no more favor to an -unrepentant Emperor than to the meanest slave, then would the Church -be a reality and a glory! Such is my master. Never is he afraid -of the face of king or lord, when he has God's truth to speak. You -should have heard how plainly he dealt with our Lorenzo de' Medici on -his death-bed,--how he refused him absolution, unless he would make -restitution to the poor and restore the liberties of Florence." - -"I should have thought," said the young man, sarcastically, "that -Lorenzo the Magnificent might have got absolution cheaper than that. -Where were all the bishops in his dominion, that he must needs send for -Jerome Savonarola?" - -"Son, it is ever so," replied the monk. "If there be a man that cares -neither for Duke nor Emperor, but for God alone, then Dukes and -Emperors would give more for his good word than for a whole dozen of -common priests." - -"I suppose it is something like a rare manuscript or a singular gem: -these _virtuosi_ have no rest till they have clutched it. The thing -they cannot get is always the thing they want." - -"Lorenzo was always seeking our master," said the monk. "Often would -he come walking in our gardens, expecting surely he would hasten down -to meet him; and the brothers would run all out of breath to his cell -to say, 'Father, Lorenzo is in the garden.' 'He is welcome,' would he -answer, with his pleasant smile. 'But, father, will you not descend -to meet him?' 'Hath he asked for me?' 'No.' 'Well, then, let us not -interrupt his meditations,' he would answer, and remain still at his -reading, so jealous was he lest he should seek the favor of princes and -forget God, as does all the world in our day." - -"And because he does not seek the favor of the men of this world he -will be trampled down and slain. Will the God in whom he trusts defend -him?" - -The monk pointed expressively upward to the statues that stood -glorified above them, still wearing a rosy radiance, though the -shadows of twilight had fallen on all the city below. - -"My son," he said, "the victories of the True Church are not in time, -but in eternity. How many around us were conquered on earth that -they might triumph in heaven! What saith the Apostle? 'They were -tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better -resurrection.'" - -"But, alas!" said Agostino, "are we never to see the right triumph -here? I fear that this noble name is written in blood, like so many of -whom the world is not worthy. Can one do nothing to help it?" - -"How is that? What have you heard?" said the monk, eagerly. "Have you -seen your uncle?" - -"Not yet; he is gone into the country for a day,--so say his servants. -I saw, when the Duke's court passed, my cousin, who is in his train, -and got a moment's speech with him; and he promised, that, if I would -wait for him here, he would come to me as soon as he could be let off -from his attendance. When he comes, it were best that we confer alone." - -"I will retire to the southern side," said the monk, "and await the end -of your conference;" and with that he crossed the platform on which -they were standing, and, going down a flight of white marble steps, was -soon lost to view amid the wilderness of frost-like carved work. - -He had scarcely vanished, before footsteps were heard ascending the -marble staircase on the other side, and the sound of a voice humming a -popular air of the court. - -The stranger was a young man of about five-and-twenty, habited with all -that richness and brilliancy of coloring which the fashion of the day -permitted to a young exquisite. His mantle of purple velvet falling -jauntily off from one shoulder disclosed a doublet of amber satin -richly embroidered with gold and seed-pearl. The long white plume -which drooped from his cap was held in its place by a large diamond -which sparkled like a star in the evening twilight. His finely moulded -hands were loaded with rings, and ruffles of the richest Venetian -lace encircled his wrists. He had worn over all a dark cloak with a -peaked hood, the usual evening disguise in Italy; but as he gained -the top-stair of the platform, he threw it carelessly down and gayly -offered his hand. - -"Good even to you, cousin mine! So you see I am as true to my -appointment as if your name were Leonora or Camilla instead of -Agostino. How goes it with you? I wanted to talk with you below, but I -saw we must have a place without listeners. Our friends the saints are -too high in heavenly things to make mischief by eavesdropping." - -"Thank you, Cousin Carlos, for your promptness. And now to the point. -Did your father, my uncle, get the letter I wrote him about a month -since?" - -"He did; and he bade me treat with you about it. It's an abominable -snarl, this, they have got you into. My father says, your best way -is to come straight to him in France, and abide till things take a -better turn: he is high in favor with the King and can find you a very -pretty place at court, and he takes it upon him in time to reconcile -the Pope. Between you and me, the old Pope has no special spite in -the world against _you_: he merely wants your lands for his son, and -as long as you prowl round and lay claim to them, why, you must stay -excommunicated; but just clear the coast and leave them peaceably and -he will put you back into the True Church, and my father will charge -himself with your success. Popes don't last forever, or there may come -another falling out with the King of France, and either way there will -be a chance of your being one day put back into your rights; meanwhile, -a young fellow might do worse than have a good place in our court." - -During this long monologue, which the young speaker uttered with all -the flippant self-sufficiency of worldly people with whom the world is -going well, the face of the young nobleman who listened presented a -picture of many strong contending emotions. - -"You speak," he said, "as if man had nothing to do in this world but -seek his own ease and pleasure. What lies nearest my heart is not that -I am plundered of my estates, and my house uprooted, but it is that my -beautiful Rome, the city of my fathers, is a prisoner under the heel -of the tyrant. It is that the glorious religion of Christ, the holy -faith in which my mother died, the faith made venerable by all these -saints around us, is made the tool and instrument of such vileness and -cruelty that one is tempted to doubt whether it were not better to have -been born of heathen in the good old times of the Roman Republic,--God -forgive me for saying so! Does the most Christian King of France know -that the man who pretends to rule in the name of Christ is not a -believer in the Christian religion,--that he does not believe even in a -God,--that he obtained the holy seat by simony,--that he uses all its -power to enrich a brood of children whose lives are so indecent that it -is a shame to modest lips even to _say_ what they do?" - -"Why, of course," said the other, "the King of France is pretty well -informed about all these things. You know old King Charles, when he -marched through Italy, had more than half a mind, they say, to pull the -old Pope out of his place; and he might have done it easily. My father -was in his train at that time, and he says the Pope was frightened -enough. Somehow they made it all up among them, and settled about their -territories, which is the main thing, after all; and now our new King, -I fancy, does not like to meddle with him: between you and me, he -has his eye in another direction here. This gay city would suit him -admirably, and he fancies he can govern it as well as it is governed -now. My father does not visit here with his eyes shut, I can tell you. -But as to the Pope--Well, you see such things are delicate to handle. -After all, my dear Agostino, we are not priests,--our business is with -this world; and, no matter how they came by them, these fellows have -the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and one cannot afford to quarrel -with them,--we must have the ordinances, you know, or what becomes of -our souls? Do you suppose, now, that I should live as gay and easy a -life as I do, if I thought there were any doubt of my salvation? It's a -mercy to us sinners that the ordinances are not vitiated by the sins of -the priests; it would go hard with us, if they were: as it is, if they -will live scandalous lives, it is their affair, not ours." - -"And is it nothing," replied the other, "to a true man who has taken -the holy vows of knighthood on him, whether his Lord's religion be -defamed and dishonored and made a scandal and a scoffing? Did not all -Europe go out to save Christ's holy sepulchre from being dishonored -by the feet of the Infidel? and shall we let infidels have the very -house of the Lord, and reign supreme in his holy dwelling-place? There -has risen a holy prophet in Italy, the greatest since the time of -Saint Francis, and his preaching hath stirred all hearts to live more -conformably with our holy faith; and now for his pure life and good -works he is under excommunication of the Pope, and they have seized and -imprisoned him, and threaten his life." - -"Oh, you mean Savonarola," said the other. "Yes, we have heard of -him,--a most imprudent, impracticable fellow, who will not take advice -nor be guided. My father, I believe, thought well of him once, and -deemed that in the distracted state of Italy he might prove serviceable -in forwarding some of his plans: but he is wholly wrapt up in his own -notions; he heeds no will but his own." - -"Have you heard anything," said Agostino, "of a letter which he wrote -to the King of France lately, stirring him up to call a General Council -of the Christian Church to consider what is to be done about the -scandals at Rome?" - -"Then he has written one, has he?" replied the young man; "then the -story that I have heard whispered about here must be true. A man who -certainly is in a condition to know told me day before yesterday that -the Duke had arrested a courier with some such letter, and sent it on -to the Pope: it is likely, for the Duke hates Savonarola. If that be -true, it will go hard with him yet; for the Pope has a long arm for an -enemy." - -"And so," said Agostino, with an expression of deep concern, "that -letter, from which the good man hoped so much, and which was so -powerful, will only go to increase his danger!" - -"The more fool he!--he might have known that it was of no use. Who was -going to take his part against the Pope?" - -"The city of Florence has stood by him until lately," said Agostino, -"and would again, with a little help." - -"Oh, no! never think it, my dear Agostino! Depend upon it, it will end -as such things always do, and the man is only a madman that undertakes -it. Hark ye, cousin, what have _you_ to do with this man? Why do you -attach yourself to the side that is _sure_ to lose? I cannot conceive -what you would be at. This is no way to mend your fortunes. Come -to-night to my father's palace: the Duke has appointed us princely -lodgings, and treats us with great hospitality, and my father has plans -for your advantage. Between us, there is a fair young ward of his, of -large estates and noble blood, whom he designs for you. So you see, if -you turn your attention in this channel, there may come a reinforcement -of the family property, which will enable you to hold out until the -Pope dies, or some prince or other gets into a quarrel with him, -which is always happening, and then a move may be made for you. My -father, I'll promise you, is shrewd enough, and always keeps his eye -open to see where there is a joint in the harness, and have a trusty -dagger-blade all whetted to stick under. Of course, he means to see you -righted; he has the family interest at heart, and feels as indignant as -you could at the rascality which has been perpetrated; but I am quite -sure he will tell you that the way is not to come out openly against -the Pope and join this fanatical party." - -Agostino stood silent, with the melancholy air of a man who has much -to say, and is deeply moved by considerations which he perceives it -would be utterly idle and useless to attempt to explain. If the easy -theology of his friend were indeed true,--if the treasures of the -heavenly kingdom, glory, honor, and immortality, could indeed be placed -in unholy hands, to be bought and sold and traded in,--if holiness of -heart and life, and all those nobler modes of living and being which -were witnessed in the histories of the thousand saints around him, -were indeed but a secondary thing in the strife for worldly place and -territory,--what, then, remained for the man of ideas, of aspirations? -In such a state of society, his track must be like that of the dove in -sacred history, who found no rest for the sole of her foot. - -Agostino folded his arms and sighed deeply, and then made answer -mechanically, as one whose thoughts are afar off. - -"Present my duty," he said, "to my uncle, your father, and say to him -that I will wait on him to-night." - -"Even so," said the young man, picking up his cloak and folding it -about him. "And now, you know, I must go. Don't be discouraged; keep -up a good heart; you shall see what it is to have powerful friends to -stand by you; all will be right yet. Come, will you go with me now?" - -"Thank you," said Agostino, "I think I would be alone a little while. -My head is confused, and I would fain think over matters a little -quietly." - -"Well, _au revoir_, then. I must leave you to the company of the -saints. But be sure and come early." - -So saying, he threw his cloak over his shoulder and sauntered -carelessly down the marble steps, humming again the gay air with which -he had ascended. - -Left alone, Agostino once more cast a glance on the strangely solemn -and impressive scene around him. He was standing on a platform of the -central tower which overlooked the whole building. The round, full -moon had now risen in the horizon, displacing by her solemn brightness -the glow of twilight; and her beams were reflected by the delicate -frost-work of the myriad pinnacles which rose in a bewildering maze -at his feet. It might seem to be some strange enchanted garden of -fairy-land, where a luxuriant and freakish growth of Nature had been -suddenly arrested and frozen into eternal stillness. Around in the -shadows at the foot of the Cathedral, the lights of the great gay -city twinkled and danced and veered and fluttered like fireflies in -the damp, dewy shadows of some moist meadow in summer. The sound of -clattering hoofs and rumbling wheels, of tinkling guitars and gay -roundelays, rose out of that obscure distance, seeming far off and -plaintive like the dream of a life that is past. The great church -seemed a vast world; the long aisles of statued pinnacles with their -pure floorings of white marble appeared as if they might be the -corridors of heaven; and it seemed as if the crowned and sceptred -saints in their white marriage-garments might come down and walk there, -without ever a spot of earth on their unsullied whiteness. - -In a few moments Father Antonio had glided back to the side of the -young man, whom he found so lost in reverie that not till he laid his -hand upon his arm did he awaken from his meditations. - -"Ah!" he said, with a start, "my father, is it you?" - -"Yes, my son. What of your conference? Have you learned anything?" - -"Father, I have learned far more than I wished to know." - -"What is it, my son? Speak it at once." - -"Well, then, I fear that the letter of our holy father to the King of -France has been intercepted here in Milan, and sent to the Pope." - -"What makes you think so?" said the monk, with an eagerness that showed -how much he felt the intelligence. - -"My cousin tells me that a person of consideration in the Duke's -household, who is supposed to be in a position to know, told him that -it was so." - -Agostino felt the light grasp which the monk had laid upon his arm -gradually closing with a convulsive pressure, and that he was trembling -with intense feeling. - -"Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight!" he said, after a -few moments of silence. - -"It is discouraging," said Agostino, "to see how little these princes -care for the true interests of religion and the service of God,--how -little real fealty there is to our Lord Jesus." - -"Yes," said the monk, "all seek their own, and not the things that are -Christ's. It is well written, 'Put not your trust in princes.'" - -"And what prospect, what hope do you see for him?" said Agostino. "Will -Florence stand firm?" - -"I could have thought so once," said the monk, "in those days when I -have seen counselors and nobles and women of the highest degree all -humbly craving to hear the word of God from his lips, and seeming to -seek nothing so much as to purify their houses, their hands, and their -hearts, that they might be worthy citizens of that commonwealth which -has chosen the Lord Jesus for its gonfalonier. I have seen the very -children thronging to kiss the hem of his robe, as he walked through -the streets; but, oh, my friend, did not Jerusalem bring palms and -spread its garments in the way of Christ only four days before he was -crucified?" - -The monk's voice here faltered. He turned away, and seemed to wrestle -with a tempest of suppressed sobbing. A moment more, he looked -heavenward and pointed up with a smile. - -"Son," he said, "you ask what hope there is. I answer, There is hope -of such crowns as these wear who came out of great tribulation and now -reign with Christ in glory." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE PILGRIMAGE - - -The morning sun rose clear and lovely on the old red rocks of Sorrento, -and danced in a thousand golden scales and ripples on the wide -Mediterranean. The shadows of the gorge were pierced by long golden -shafts of light, here falling on some moist bed of crimson cyclamen, -there shining through a waving tuft of gladiolus, or making the -abundant yellow fringes of the broom more vivid in their brightness. -The velvet-mossy old bridge, in the far shadows at the bottom, was lit -up by a chance beam, and seemed as if it might be something belonging -to fairy-land. - -There had been a bustle and stir betimes in the little dove-cot, for -to-morrow the inmates were to leave it for a long, adventurous journey. - -To old Elsie, the journey back to Rome, the city of her former days -of prosperity, the place which had witnessed her ambitious hopes, her -disgrace and downfall, was full of painful ideas. There arose to her -memory, like a picture, those princely halls, with their slippery, cold -mosaic floors, their long galleries of statues and paintings, their -enchanting gardens, musical with the voice of mossy fountains, fragrant -with the breath of roses and jasmines, where the mother of Agnes had -spent the hours of her youth and beauty. She seemed to see her flitting -hither and thither down the stately ilex-avenues, like some gay -singing-bird, to whom were given gilded cages and a constant round of -caresses and sweets, or like the flowers in the parterres, which lived -and died only as the graceful accessories of the grandeur of an old -princely family. - -She compared, mentally, the shaded and secluded life which Agnes had -led with the specious and fatal brilliancy which had been the lot of -her mother,--her simple peasant garb with those remembered visions of -jewelry and silk and embroideries with which the partial patronage of -the Duchess or the ephemeral passion of her son had decked out the poor -Isella; and then came swelling at her heart a tumultuous thought, one -which she had repressed and kept down for years with all the force of -pride and hatred. Agnes, peasant-girl though she seemed, had yet the -blood of that proud old family in her veins; the marriage had been a -true one; she herself had witnessed it. - -"Yes, indeed," she said to herself, "were justice done, she would now -be a princess,--a fit mate for the nobles of the land; and here I ask -no more than to mate her to an honest smith,--I that have seen a prince -kneel to kiss her mother's hand,--yes, he did,--entreat her on his -knees to be his wife,--I saw it. But then, what came of it? Was there -ever one of these nobles that kept oath or promise to us of the people, -or that cared for us longer than the few moments we could serve his -pleasure? Old Elsie, you have done wisely! keep your dove out of the -eagle's nest: it is foul with the blood of poor innocents whom he has -torn to pieces in his cruel pride!" - -These thoughts swelled in silence in the mind of Elsie, while she was -busy sorting and arranging her household stores, and making those -thousand-and-one preparations known to every householder, whether of -much or little, who meditates a long journey. - -To Agnes she seemed more than ever severe and hard; yet probably there -never was a time when every pulse of her heart was beating more warmly -for the child, and every thought of the future was more entirely -regulated with reference to her welfare. It is no sinecure to have the -entire devotion of a strong, enterprising, self-willed friend, as Agnes -had all her life found. One cannot gather grapes of thorns or figs of -thistles, and the affection of thorny and thistly natures has often -as sharp an acid and as long prickers as wild gooseberries; yet it is -their best, and must be so accepted. - -Agnes tried several times to offer her help to her grandmother, but -was refused so roughly that she dared not offer again, and therefore -went to her favorite station by the parapet in the garden, whence she -could look up and down the gorge, and through the arches of the old -mossy Roman bridge that spanned it far down by the city-wall. All these -things had become dear to her by years of familiar silent converse. -The little garden, with its old sculptured basin and the ever-lulling -dash of falling water; the tremulous draperies of maiden's-hair, always -beaded with shining drops; the old shrine, with its picture, its lamp, -and flower-vase; the tall, dusky orange-trees, so full of blossoms and -fruit, so smooth and shining in their healthy bark,--all seemed to -her as so many dear old friends whom she was about to leave, perhaps -forever. - -What this pilgrimage would be like, she scarcely knew: days and weeks -of wandering,--over mountain-passes; in deep, solitary valleys,--as -years ago, when her grandmother brought her, a little child, from Rome. - -In the last few weeks, Agnes seemed to herself to have become wholly -another being. Silently, insensibly, her feet had crossed the enchanted -river that divides childhood from womanhood, and all the sweet ignorant -joys of that first early paradise lay behind her. Up to this time her -life had seemed to her a charming dream, full of blessed visions and -images: legends of saints, and hymns, and prayers had blended with -flower-gatherings in the gorge, and light daily toils. - -Now a new, strange life had been born within her,--a life full of -passions, contradictions, and conflicts. A love had sprung up in her -heart, strange and wonderful, for one who till within these few weeks -had been entirely unknown to her, who had never toiled for, or housed, -or clothed, or cared for her as her grandmother had, and yet whom a few -short interviews, a few looks, a few words, had made to seem nearer -and dearer than the old, tried friends of her childhood. In vain she -confessed it as a sin, in vain she strove against it; it came back to -her in every hymn, in every prayer. Then she would press the sharp -cross to her breast, till a thousand stings of pain would send the -blood in momentary rushes to her pale cheek, and cause her delicate -lips to contract with an expression of stern endurance, and pray that -by any penance and anguish she might secure his salvation. - -To save one such glorious soul, she said to herself, was work enough -for one little life. She was willing to spend it all in endurance, -unseen by him, unknown to him, so that at last he should be received -into that Paradise which her ardent imagination conceived so vividly. -Surely, there she should meet him, radiant as the angel of her dream; -and then she would tell him that it was all for his sake that she had -refused to listen to him here. And these sinful longings to see him -once more, these involuntary reachings of her soul after an earthly -companionship, she should find strength to overcome in this pilgrimage. -She should go to Rome,--the very city where the blessed Paul poured -out his blood for the Lord Jesus,--where Peter fed the flock, till his -time, too, came to follow his Lord in the way of the cross. She should -even come near to her blessed Redeemer; she should go up, on her knees, -those very steps to Pilate's hall where He stood bleeding, crowned with -thorns,--His blood, perhaps, dropping on the very stones. Ah, could -any mortal love distract her there? Should she not there find her -soul made free of every earthly thrall to love her Lord alone,--as she -had loved Him in the artless and ignorant days of her childhood,--but -better, a thousand times? - -"Good-morning to you, pretty dove!" said a voice from without the -garden-wall; and Agnes, roused from her reverie, saw old Jocunda. - -"I came down to help you off," she said, as she came into the little -garden. "Why, my dear little saint! you are looking white as a sheet, -and with those tears! What's it all for, baby?" - -"Ah, Jocunda! grandmamma is angry with me all the time now. I wish I -could go once more to the convent and see my dear Mother Theresa. She -is angry, if I but name it; and yet she will not let me do anything -here to help her, and so I don't know _what_ to do." - -"Well, at any rate, don't cry, pretty one! Your grandmamma is worked -with hard thoughts. We old folks are twisted and crabbed and full of -knots with disappointment and trouble, like the mulberry-trees that -they keep for vines to run on. But I'll speak to her; I know her ways; -she shall let you go; I'll bring her round." - -"So-ho, sister!" said the old soul, hobbling to the door and looking -in at Elsie, who was sitting flat on the stone floor of her cottage, -sorting a quantity of flax that lay around her. The severe Roman -profile was thrown out by the deep shadows of the interior,--and the -piercing black eyes, the silver-white hair, and the strong, compressed -lines of the mouth, as she worked, and struggled with the ghosts of her -former life, made her look like no unapt personification of one of the -Fates reviewing her flax before she commenced the spinning of some new -web of destiny. - -"Good-morning to you, sister!" said Jocunda. "I heard you were off -to-morrow, and I came to see what I could do to help you." - -"There's nothing to be done for me, but to kill me," said Elsie. "I am -weary of living." - -"Oh, never say that! Shake the dice again, my old man used to say,--God -rest his soul! Please Saint Agnes, you'll have a brave pilgrimage." - -"Saint Agnes be hanged!" said Elsie, gruffly. "I'm out with her. -It was she put all these notions into my girl's head. Because she -didn't get married herself, she don't want any one else to. She has -no consideration. I've done with her: I told her so this morning. The -candles I've burned and the prayers I've gone through with, that she -might prosper me in this one thing! and it's all gone against me. She's -a baggage, and shall never see another penny of mine,--that's flat!" - -Such vituperation of saints and sacred images may be heard to this day -in Italy, and is a common feature of idol-worship in all lands; for, -however the invocation of the saints could be vitalized in the hearts -of the few spiritual, there is no doubt that in the mass of the common -people it had all the well-defined symptoms of the grossest idolatry, -among which fits of passionate irreverence are one. The feeling which -tempts the enlightened Christian in sore disappointment and vexation to -rise in rebellion against a wise Providence, in the childish twilight -of uncultured natures finds its full expression unawed by reverence or -fear. - -"Oh, hush, now!" said Jocunda. "What is the use of making her angry -just as you are going to Rome, where she has the most power? All sorts -of ill-luck will befall you. Make up with her before you start, or you -may get the fever in the marshes and die, and then who will take care -of poor Agnes?" - -"Let Saint Agnes look after her; the girl loves her better than she -does me, or anybody else," said Elsie. "If she cared anything about me, -she'd marry and settle down, as I want her to." - -"Oh, there you are wrong," said Jocunda. "Marrying is like your dinner: -one is not always in stomach for it, and one's meat is another's -poison. Now who knows but this pilgrimage may be the very thing to -bring the girl round? I've seen people cured of too much religion by -going to Rome. You know things ain't there as our little saint fancies. -Why, between you and me, the priests themselves have their jokes on -those who come so far to so little purpose. More shame for 'em, say I, -too; but we common people mustn't look into such things too closely. -Now take it cheerfully, and you'll see the girl will come back tired -of tramping and able to settle down in a good home with a likely -husband. I have a brother in Naples who is turning a pretty penny in -the fisheries; I will give you directions to find him; his wife is a -wholesome Christian woman; and if the little one be tired by the time -you get there, you might do worse than stop two or three days with -them. It's a brave city; seems made to have a good time in. Come, you -let her just run up to the convent to bid good-by to the Mother Theresa -and the sisters." - -"I don't care where she goes," said Elsie, ungraciously. - -"There, now!" said Jocunda, coming out, "Agnes, your grandmother bids -you go to the convent to say good-by to the sisters; so run along, -there's a little dear. The Mother Theresa talks of nothing else but you -since she heard that you meditated this; and she has broken in two her -own piece of the True Cross which she's carried in the gold and pearl -reliquary that the Queen sent her, and means to give it to you. One -doesn't halve such gifts, without one's whole heart goes with them." - -"Dear mother!" said Agnes, her eyes filling with tears, "I will take -her some flowers and oranges for the last time. Do you know, Jocunda, I -feel that I never shall come back here to this dear little home where -I have been so happy,--everything sounds so mournful and looks so -mournful!--I love everything here so much!" - -"Oh, dear child, never give in to such fancies, but pluck up heart. -You will be sure to have luck, wherever you go,--especially since the -mother will give you that holy relic. I myself had a piece of Saint -John Baptist's thumbnail sewed up in a leather bag, which I wore day -and night all the years I was tramping up and down with my old man; but -when he died, I had it buried with him to ease his soul. For you see, -dear, he was a trooper, and led such a rackety up-and-down life, that I -doubt but his confessions were but slipshod, and he needed all the help -he could get, poor old soul! It's a comfort to think he has it." - -"Ah, Jocunda, seems to me it were better to trust to the free love of -our dear Lord who died for us, and pray to Him, without ceasing, for -his soul." - -"Like enough, dearie; but then, one can't be too sure, you know. And -there isn't the least doubt in my mind that that was a true relic, -for I got it in the sack of the city of Volterra, out of the private -cabinet of a noble lady, with a lot of jewels and other matters that -made quite a little purse for us. Ah, that was a time, when that city -was sacked! It was hell upon earth for three days, and all our men -acted like devils incarnate; but then they always will in such cases. -But go your ways now, dearie, and I'll stay with your grandmamma; for, -please God, you must be up and away with the sun to-morrow." - -Agnes hastily arranged a little basket of fruit and flowers, and -took her way down through the gorge, under the Roman bridge, through -an orange-orchard, and finally came out upon the seashore, and so -along the sands below the cliffs on which the old town of Sorrento is -situated. - -So cheating and inconsistent is the human heart, especially in the -feminine subject, that she had more than once occasion to chide -herself for the thrill with which she remembered passing the cavalier -once in this orange-garden, and the sort of vague hope which she -detected that somewhere along this road he might appear again. - -"How perfectly wicked and depraved I must be," she said to herself, "to -find any pleasure in such a thought of one I should pray never to meet -again!" - -And so the little soul went on condemning herself in those exaggerated -terms which the religious vocabulary of conventual life furnished -ready-made for the use of penitents of every degree, till by the time -she arrived at the convent she could scarcely have been more oppressed -with a sense of sin, if she had murdered her grandmother and eloped -with the cavalier. - -On her arrival in the convent court, the peaceful and dreamy stillness -contrasted strangely with the gorgeous brightness of the day outside. -The splendid sunshine, the sparkling seas, the songs of the boatmen, -the brisk passage of gliding sails, the bright hues of the flowers that -garlanded the rocks, all seemed as if the earth had been arrayed for -some gala-day; but the moment she had passed the portal, the silent, -mossy court, with its pale marble nymph, its lull of falling water, its -turf snow-dropt with daisies and fragrant with blue and white violets, -and the surrounding cloistered walks, with their pictured figures of -pious history, all came with a sad and soothing influence on her nerves. - -The nuns, who had heard the news of the projected pilgrimage, and -regarded it as the commencement of that saintly career which they had -always predicted for her, crowded around her, kissing her hands and -her robe, and entreating her prayers at different shrines of especial -sanctity that she might visit. - -The Mother Theresa took her to her cell, and there hung round her neck, -by a golden chain, the relic which she designed for her, and of whose -genuineness she appeared to possess no manner of doubt. - -"But how pale you are, my sweet child!" she said. "What has happened to -alter you so much? Your cheeks look so thin, and there are deep, dark -circles round your eyes." - -"Ah, my mother, it is because of my sins." - -"Your sins, dear little one! What sins can you be guilty of?" - -"Ah, my dear mother, I have been false to my Lord, and let the love of -an earthly creature into my heart." - -"What can you mean?" said the mother. - -"Alas, dear mother, the cavalier who sent that ring!" said Agnes, -covering her face with her hands. - -Now the Mother Theresa had never left the walls of that convent since -she was ten years old,--had seen no men except her father and uncle, -who once or twice made her a short call, and an old hunchback who took -care of their garden, safe in his armor of deformity. Her ideas on the -subject of masculine attractions were, therefore, as vague as might be -the conceptions of the eyeless fishes in the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky -with regard to the fruits and flowers above ground. All that portion of -her womanly nature which might have throbbed lay in a dead calm. Still -there was a faint flutter of curiosity, as she pressed Agnes to tell -her story, which she did with many pauses and sobs and blushes. - -"And is he so very handsome, my little heart?" she said, after -listening. "What makes you love him so much in so little time?" - -"Yes,--he is beautiful as an angel." - -"I never saw a young man, really," said the Mother Theresa. "Uncle -Angelo was lame, and had gray hair; and papa was very fat, and had a -red face. Perhaps he looks like our picture of Saint Sebastian;--I have -often thought that I might be in danger of loving a young man that -looked like him." - -"Oh, he is more beautiful than that picture or any picture!" said -Agnes, fervently; "and, mother, though he is excommunicated, I can't -help feeling that he is as good as he is beautiful. My uncle had strong -hopes that he should restore him to the True Church; and to pray for -his soul I am going on this pilgrimage. Father Francesco says, if I -will tear away and overcome this love, I shall gain so much merit that -my prayers will have power to save his soul. Promise me, dear mother, -that you and all the sisters will help me with your prayers;--help me -to work out this great salvation, and then I shall be so glad to come -back here and spend all my life in prayer!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE MOUNTAIN FORTRESS - - -And so on a bright spring morning our pilgrims started. Whoever has -traversed the road from Sorrento to Naples, that wonderful path along -the high rocky shores of the Mediterranean, must remember it only as -a wild dream of enchantment. On one side lies the sea, shimmering -in bands of blue, purple, and green to the swaying of gentle winds, -exhibiting those magical shiftings and changes of color peculiar -to these waves. Near the land its waters are of pale, transparent -emerald, while farther out they deepen into blue and thence into a -violet-purple, which again, towards the horizon-line, fades into misty -pearl-color. The shores rise above the sea in wild, bold precipices, -grottoed into fantastic caverns by the action of the waves, and -presenting every moment some new variety of outline. As the path of -the traveler winds round promontories whose mountain-heights are -capped by white villages and silvery with olive-groves, he catches the -enchanting sea-view, now at this point, and now at another, with Naples -glimmering through the mists in the distance, and the purple sides of -Vesuvius ever changing with streaks and veins of cloud-shadows, while -silver vapors crown the summit. Above the road the steep hills seem -piled up to the sky,--every spot terraced, and cultivated with some -form of vegetable wealth, and the wild, untamable rocks garlanded -over with golden broom, crimson gillyflowers, and a thousand other -bright adornments. The road lies through villages whose gardens and -orange-orchards fill the air with sweet scents, and whose rose-hedges -sometimes pour a perfect cascade of bloom and fragrance over the walls. - -Our travelers started in the dewy freshness of one of those gorgeous -days which seem to cast an illuminating charm over everything. -Even old Elsie's stern features relaxed somewhat under the balmy -influences of sun and sky, and Agnes's young, pale face was lit up -with a brighter color than for many a day before. Their pilgrimage -through this beautiful country had few incidents. They walked in the -earlier and latter parts of the day, reposing a few hours at noon -near some fountain or shrine by the wayside,--often experiencing the -kindly veneration of the simple peasantry, who cheerfully offered them -refreshments, and begged their prayers at the holy places whither they -were going. - -In a few days they reached Naples, where they made a little stop with -the hospitable family to whom Jocunda had recommended them. From Naples -their path lay through the Pontine Marshes; and though the malaria -makes this region a word of fear, yet it is no less one of strange, -soft, enchanting beauty. A wide, sea-like expanse, clothed with an -abundance of soft, rich grass, painted with golden bands and streaks of -bright yellow flowers, stretches away to a purple curtain of mountains, -whose romantic outline rises constantly in a thousand new forms of -beauty. The upland at the foot of these mountains is beautifully -diversified with tufts of trees, and the contrast of the purple -softness of the distant hills with the dazzling gold and emerald of the -wide meadow-tracts they enclose is a striking feature in the landscape. -Droves of silver-haired oxen, with their great, dreamy, dark eyes and -polished black horns, were tranquilly feeding knee-deep in the lush, -juicy grass, and herds of buffaloes, uncouth, but harmless, might be -seen pasturing or reposing in the distance. On either side of the way -were waving tracts of yellow fleur-de-lis, and beds of arum, with its -arrowy leaves and white blossoms. It was a wild luxuriance of growth, a -dreamy stillness of solitude, so lovely that one could scarce remember -that it was deadly. - -Elsie was so impressed with the fear of the malaria, that she -trafficked with an honest peasant, who had been hired to take back to -Rome the horses which had been used to convey part of the suite of a -nobleman traveling to Naples, to give them a quicker passage across -than they could have made on foot. It is true that this was quite -contrary to the wishes of Agnes, who felt that the journey ought to be -performed in the most toilsome and self-renouncing way, and that they -should trust solely to prayer and spiritual protection to ward off the -pestilential exhalations. - -In vain she quoted the Psalm, "Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror -by night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day, nor for the pestilence -that walketh in darkness, nor for the destruction that wasteth at -noon-day," and adduced cases of saints who had walked unhurt through -all sorts of dangers. - -"There's no use talking, child," said Elsie. "I'm older than you, and -have seen more of real men and women; and whatever they did in old -times, I know that nowadays the saints don't help those that don't take -care of themselves; and the long and the short of it is, we must ride -across those marshes, and get out of them as quick as possible, or we -shall get into Paradise quicker than we want to." - -In common with many other professing Christians, Elsie felt that going -to Paradise was the very dismalest of alternatives,--a thing to be -staved off as long as possible. - -After many days of journeying, the travelers, somewhat weary and -foot-sore, found themselves in a sombre and lonely dell of the -mountains, about an hour before the going down of the sun. The -slanting yellow beams turned to silvery brightness the ashy foliage -of the gnarled old olives, which gaunt and weird clung with their -great, knotty, straggling roots to the rocky mountain-sides. Before -them, the path, stony, steep, and winding, was rising upward and still -upward, and no shelter for the night appeared, except in a distant -mountain-town, which, perched airily as an eagle's nest on its hazy -height, reflected from the dome of its church and its half-ruined -old feudal tower the golden light of sunset. A drowsy-toned bell was -ringing out the Ave Maria over the wide purple solitude of mountains, -whose varying outlines were rising around. - -"You are tired, my little heart," said old Elsie to Agnes, who had -drooped during a longer walk than usual. - -"No, grandmamma," said Agnes, sinking on her knees to repeat her -evening prayer, which she did, covering her face with her hands. - -Old Elsie kneeled too; but, as she was praying,--being a thrifty -old body in the use of her time,--she cast an eye up the steep -mountain-path and calculated the distance of the little airy village. -Just at that moment she saw two or three horsemen, who appeared to be -stealthily observing them from behind the shadow of some large rocks. - -When their devotions were finished, she hurried on her grandchild -saying,-- - -"Come, dearie! it must be we shall find a shelter soon." - -The horsemen now rode up behind them. - -"Good-evening, mother!" said one of them, speaking from under the -shadow of a deeply slouched hat. - -Elsie made no reply, but hurried forward. - -"Good-evening, pretty maid!" he said again, riding still nearer. - -"Go your ways in the name of God," said Elsie. "We are pilgrims, going -for our souls to Rome; and whoever hinders us will have the saints to -deal with." - -"Who talks of hindering you, mother?" responded the other. "On the -contrary, we come for the express purpose of helping you along." - -"We want none of your help," said Elsie, gruffly. - -"See, now, how foolish you are!" said the horseman. "Don't you see that -that town is a good seven miles off, and not a bit of bed or supper to -be had till you get there, and the sun will be down soon? So mount up -behind me, and here is a horse for the little one." - -In fact, the horsemen at this moment opening disclosed to view a -palfrey with a lady's saddle, richly caparisoned, as if for a person -of condition. With a sudden movement, two of the men dismounted, -confronted the travelers, and the one who had acted as spokesman, -approaching Agnes, said, in a tone somewhat imperative,-- - -"Come, young lady, it is our master's will that your poor little feet -should have some rest." - -And before Agnes could remonstrate, he raised her into the saddle as -easily as if she had been a puff of thistledown, and then turning to -Elsie, he said,-- - -"For you, good mother, if you wish to keep up, you must e'en be content -with a seat behind me." - -"Who are you? and how dare you?" said Elsie, indignantly. - -"Good mother," said the man, "you see God's will is that you should -submit, because we are four to you two, and there are fifty more within -call. So get up without more words, and I swear by the Holy Virgin no -harm shall be done you." - -Elsie looked and saw Agnes already some distance before her, the bridle -of her palfrey being held by one of the horsemen, who rode by her side -and seemed to look after her carefully; and so, without more ado, she -accepted the services of the man, and, placing her foot on the toe of -his riding-boot, mounted to the crupper behind him. - -"That is right," said he. "Now hold on to me lustily, and be not -afraid." - -So saying, the whole troop began winding as rapidly as possible up the -steep, rocky path to the mountain-town. - -Notwithstanding the surprise and alarm of this most unexpected -adventure, Agnes, who had been at the very point of exhaustion from -fatigue, could not but feel the sensation of relief and repose which -the seat in an easy saddle gave her. The mountain air, as they rose, -breathed fresh and cold on her brow, and a prospect of such wondrous -beauty unrolled beneath her feet that her alarm soon became lost in -admiration. The mountains that rose everywhere around them seemed to -float in a transparent sea of luminous vapor, with olive-orchards -and well-tilled fields lying in far, dreamy distances below, while -out towards the horizon silver gleams of the Mediterranean gradually -widened to the view. Soothed by the hour, refreshed by the air, and -filled with admiration for the beauty of all she saw, she surrendered -herself to her situation with a feeling of solemn religious calm, as -to some unfolding of the Divine Will, which might unroll like the -landscape beneath her. They pursued their way in silence, rising higher -and higher out of the shadows of the deep valleys below, the man who -conducted them observing a strict reserve, but seeming to have a care -for their welfare. - -The twilight yet burned red in the sky, and painted with solemn lights -the mossy walls of the little old town, as they plunged under a -sombre antique gateway, and entered on a street as damp and dark as a -cellar, which went up almost perpendicularly between tall, black stone -walls that seemed to have neither windows nor doors. Agnes could only -remember clambering upward, turning short corners, clattering down -steep stone steps, under low archways, along narrow, ill-smelling -passages, where the light that seemed so clear without the town was -almost extinguished in utter night. - -At last they entered the damp court of a huge, irregular pile of stone -buildings. Here the men suddenly drew up, and Agnes's conductor, -dismounting, came and took her silently from her saddle, saying -briefly, "Come this way." - -Elsie sprang from her seat in a moment, and placed herself at the side -of her child. - -"No, good mother," said the man with whom she had ridden, seizing her -powerfully by the shoulders, and turning her round. - -"What do you mean?" said Elsie, fiercely. "Are you going to keep me -from my own child?" - -"Patience!" replied the man. "You can't help yourself, so recommend -yourself to God, and no harm shall come to you." - -Agnes looked back at her grandmother. - -"Fear not, dear grandmamma," she said, "the blessed angels will watch -over us." - -As she spoke, she followed her conductor through long, damp, mouldering -passages, and up flights of stone steps, and again through other long -passages, smelling of mould and damp, till at last he opened the door -of an apartment from which streamed a light so dazzling to the eyes of -Agnes that at first she could form no distinct conception as to where -she was. - -As soon as her eyesight cleared, she found herself in an apartment -which to her simplicity seemed furnished with an unheard-of luxury. -The walls were richly frescoed and gilded, and from a chandelier of -Venetian glass the light fell upon a foot-cloth of brilliant tapestry -which covered the marble floor. Gilded chairs and couches, covered with -the softest Genoese velvet, invited to repose; while tables inlaid -with choice mosaics stood here and there, sustaining rare vases, -musical instruments, and many of the light, fanciful ornaments with -which, in those days, the halls of women of condition were graced. At -one end of the apartment was an alcove, where the rich velvet curtains -were looped away with heavy cords and tassels of gold, displaying -a smaller room, where was a bed with hangings of crimson satin -embroidered with gold. - -Agnes stood petrified with amazement, and put her hand to her head, as -if to assure herself by the sense of touch that she was not dreaming, -and then, with an impulse of curious wonder, began examining the -apartment. The rich furniture and the many adornments, though only such -as were common in the daily life of the great at that period, had for -her simple eyes all the marvelousness of the most incredible illusion. -She touched the velvet couches almost with fear, and passed from object -to object in a sort of maze. When she arrived at the alcove, she -thought she heard a slight rustling within, and then a smothered laugh. -Her heart beat quick as she stopped to listen. There was a tittering -sound, and a movement as if some one were shaking the curtain, and at -last Giulietta stood in the door-way. - -For a moment Agnes stood looking at her in utter bewilderment. Yes, -surely it was Giulietta, dressed out in all the bravery of splendid -apparel, her black hair shining and lustrous, great solid ear-rings of -gold shaking in her ears, and a row of gold coins displayed around her -neck. - -She broke into a loud laugh at the sight of Agnes's astonished face. - -"So, here you are!" she said. "Well, now, didn't I tell you so? You see -he was in love with you, just as I said; and if you wouldn't come to -him of your own accord, he must fly off with you." - -"Oh, Giulietta!" said Agnes, springing towards her and catching her -hands, "what does all this mean? and where have they carried poor -grandmamma?" - -"Oh, never worry about her! Do you know you are in high favor here, and -any one who belongs to you gets good quarters? Your grandmother just -now is at supper, I doubt not, with my mother; and a jolly time they -will have of it, gossiping together." - -"Your mother here, too?" - -"Yes, simple, to be sure! I found it so much easier living here than in -the old town, that I sent for her, that she might have peace in her old -age. But how do you like your room? Were you not astonished to see it -so brave? Know, then, pretty one, that it is all on account of the good -courage of our band. For, you see, the people there in Rome (we won't -say who) had given away all our captain's lands and palaces and villas -to this one and that, as pleased them; and one pretty little villa in -the mountains not far from here went to a stout old cardinal. What does -a band of our men do, one night, but pounce on old red-hat and tie -him up, while they helped themselves to what they liked through the -house? True, they couldn't bring house and all; but they brought stores -of rich furnishing, and left him thanking the saints that he was yet -alive. So we arranged your rooms right nobly, thinking to please our -captain when he comes. If you are not pleased, you will be ungrateful, -that's all." - -"Giulietta," said Agnes, who had scarcely seemed to listen to this -prattle, so anxious was she to speak of what lay nearest her heart, "I -want to see grandmamma. Can't you bring her to me?" - -"No, my little princess, I can't. Do you know you are my mistress, now? -Well, you are; but there's one that's master of us both, and he says -none must speak with you till he has seen you." - -"And is he here?" - -"No, he has been some time gone northward, and has not -returned,--though we expect him to-night. So compose yourself, and ask -for anything in the world, but to see your grandmother, and I will show -that I am your humble servant to command." - -So saying, Giulietta courtesied archly and laughed, showing her white, -shiny teeth, which looked as bright as pearls. - -Agnes sat down on one of the velvet couches, and leaned her head on her -hand. - -"Come, now, let me bring you some supper," said Giulietta. "What say -you to a nice roast fowl and a bottle of wine? - -"How can you speak of such things in the holy time of Lent?" said Agnes. - -"Oh, never you fear about that! Our holy Father Stefano sets such -matters right for any of us in a twinkling, and especially would he do -it for you." - -"Oh, but Giulietta, I don't want anything. I couldn't eat, if I were to -try." - -"Ta, ta, ta!" said Giulietta, going out. "Wait till you smell it. I -shall be back in a little while." - -And she left the room, locking the door after her. - -In a few moments she returned, bearing a rich silver tray, on which was -a covered dish that steamed a refreshing odor, together with a roll of -white bread, and a small glass _flacon_ containing a little choice wine. - -By much entreaty and coaxing, Agnes was induced to partake of the -bread, enough to revive her somewhat after the toils of the day; and -then, a little reassured by the familiar presence of Giulietta, she -began to undress, her former companion officiously assisting her. - -"There, now, you are tired, my lady princess," she said. "I'll unlace -your bodice. One of these days your gowns will be all of silk, and -stiff with gold and pearls." - -"Oh, Giulietta," said Agnes, "don't!--let me,--I don't need help." - -"Ta, ta, ta!--you must learn to be waited on," said Giulietta, -persisting. "But, Holy Virgin! what is the matter here? Oh, Agnes, what -_are_ you doing to yourself?" - -"It's a penance, Giulietta," said Agnes, her face flushing. - -"Well, I should think it was! Father Francesco ought to be ashamed of -himself; he is a real butcher!" - -"He does it to save my soul, Giulietta. The cross of our Lord without -will heal a deadly wound within." - -In her heart, Giulietta had somewhat of secret reverence for such -austerities, which the whole instruction of her time and country taught -her to regard as especially saintly. People who live in the senses more -than in the world of reflection feel the force of such outward appeals. -Giulietta made the sign of the cross, and looked grave for several -minutes. - -"Poor little dove!" she said at last, "if your sins must needs be -expiated so, what will become of me? It must be that you will lay up -stores of merit with God; for surely your sins do not need _all_ this. -Agnes, you will be a saint some day, like your namesake at the Convent, -I truly do believe." - -"Oh, no, no, Giulietta! don't talk so! God knows I wrestle with -forbidden thoughts all the while. I am no saint, but the chief of -sinners." - -"That's what the saints all say," said Giulietta. "But, my dear -princess, when _he_ comes, he will forbid this; he is lordly, and will -not suffer his little wife"-- - -"Giulietta, don't speak so,--I cannot hear it,--I must not be his -wife,--I am vowed to be the spouse of the Lord." - -"And yet you love our handsome prince," said Giulietta; "and there -is the great sin you are breaking your little heart about. Well, now, -it's all of that dry, sour old Father Francesco. I never could abide -him,--he made such dismal pother about sin; old Father Girolamo was -worth a dozen of him. If you would just see our good Father Stefano, -now, he would set your mind at ease about your vows in a twinkling; and -you must needs get them loosed, for our captain is born to command, -and when princes stoop to us peasant-girls, it isn't for us to say -nay. It's being good as Saint Michael himself for him to think of you -only in the holy way of marriage. I'll warrant me, there's many a lord -cardinal at Rome that isn't so good; and as to princes, he is one of a -thousand, a most holy and religious knight, or he would do as others do -when they have the power." - -Agnes, confused and agitated, turned away, and, as if seeking -refuge, laid her down in the bed, looking timidly up at the unwonted -splendor,--and then, hiding her face in the pillow, began repeating a -prayer. - -Giulietta sat by her a moment, till she felt, from the relaxing of the -little hand, that the reaction of fatigue and intense excitement was -beginning to take place. Nature would assert her rights, and the heavy -curtain of sleep fell on the weary little head. Quietly extinguishing -the lights, Giulietta left the room, locking the door. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE CRISIS - - -Agnes was so entirely exhausted with bodily fatigue and mental -agitation that she slept soundly till awakened by the beams of the -morning sun. Her first glance up at the gold-embroidered curtains of -her bed occasioned a bewildered surprise;--she raised herself and -looked around, slowly recovering her consciousness and the memory of -the strange event which had placed her where she was. She rose hastily -and went to the window to look out. This window was in a kind of -circular tower projecting from the side of the building, such as one -often sees in old Norman architecture;--it overhung not only a wall of -dizzy height, but a precipice with a sheer descent of some thousand -feet; and far below, spread out like a map in the distance, lay a -prospect of enchanting richness. The eye might wander over orchards -of silvery olives, plantations with their rows of mulberry-trees -supporting the vines, now in the first tender spring green, scarlet -fields of clover, and patches where the young corn was just showing -its waving blades above the brown soil. Here and there rose tufts -of stone-pines with their dark umbrella-tops towering above all -other foliage, while far off in the blue distance a silvery belt of -glittering spangles showed where the sea closed in the horizon-line. -So high was the perch, so distant and dreamy the prospect, that Agnes -felt a sensation of giddiness, as if she were suspended over it in the -air,--and turned away from the window, to look again at what seemed to -her the surprising and unheard-of splendors of the apartment. There -lay her simple peasant garb on the rich velvet couch,--a strange sight -in the midst of so much luxury. Having dressed herself, she sat down, -and, covering her face with her hands, tried to reflect calmly on the -position in which she was placed. - -With the education she had received, she could look on this strange -interruption of her pilgrimage only as a special assault upon her -faith, instigated by those evil spirits that are ever setting -themselves in conflict with the just. Such trials had befallen saints -of whom she had read. They had been assailed by visions of worldly ease -and luxury suddenly presented before them, for which they were tempted -to deny their faith and sell their souls. Was it not, perhaps, as a -punishment for having admitted the love of an excommunicated heretic -into her heart, that this sore trial had been permitted to come upon -her? And if she should fail? She shuddered, when she recalled the -severe and terrible manner in which Father Francesco had warned her -against yielding to the solicitations of an earthly love. To her it -seemed as if that holy man must have been inspired with a prophetic -foresight of her present position, and warned her against it. Those -awful words came burning into her mind as when they seemed to issue -like the voice of a spirit from the depths of the confessional: "_If -ever you should yield to his love, and turn back from this heavenly -marriage to follow him, you will accomplish his damnation and your -own._" - -Agnes trembled in an agony of real belief, and with a vivid terror of -the world to come such as belonged to the almost physical certainty -with which the religious teaching of her time presented it to the -popular mind. Was she, indeed, the cause of such awful danger to his -soul? Might a false step now, a faltering human weakness, indeed plunge -that soul, so dear, into a fiery abyss without bottom or shore? Should -she forever hear his shrieks of torture and despair, his curses on -the hour he had first known her? Her very blood curdled, her nerves -froze, as she thought of it, and she threw herself on her knees and -prayed with an anguish that brought the sweat in beaded drops to her -forehead,--strange dew for so frail a lily!--and her prayer rose -above all intercession of saints, above the seat even of the Virgin -Mother herself, to the heart of her Redeemer, to Him who some divine -instinct told her was alone mighty to save. We of the present day may -look on her distress as unreal, as the result of a misguided sense -of religious obligation; but the great Hearer of Prayer regards each -heart in its own scope of vision, and helps not less the mistaken than -the enlightened distress. And for that matter, who is enlightened? who -carries to God's throne a trouble or a temptation in which there is not -somewhere a misconception or a mistake? - -And so it came to pass. Agnes rose from prayer with an experience -which has been common to the members of the True Invisible Church, -whether Catholic, Greek, or Protestant. "In the day when I cried Thou -answeredst me, and strengthenedst me with strength in my soul." She -had that vivid sense of the sustaining presence and sympathy of an -Almighty Saviour which is the substance of which all religious forms -and appliances are the shadows; her soul was stayed on God, and was at -peace, as truly as if she had been the veriest Puritan maiden that ever -worshiped in a New England meeting-house. She felt a calm superiority -to all things earthly,--a profound reliance on that invisible aid which -comes from God alone. - -She was standing at her window, deep in thought, when Giulietta -entered, fresh and blooming, bearing the breakfast-tray. - -"Come, my little princess, here I am," she said, "with your breakfast! -How do you find yourself, this morning?" - -Agnes came towards her. - -"Bless us, how grave we are!" said Giulietta. "What has come over us?" - -"Giulietta, have you seen poor grandmamma this morning?" - -"Poor grandmamma!" said Giulietta, mimicking the sad tone in which -Agnes spoke, "to be sure I have. I left her making a hearty breakfast. -So fall to, and do the same, for you don't know who may come to see you -this morning." - -"Giulietta, is he here?" - -"He!" said Giulietta, laughing. "Do hear the little bird! It begins to -chirp already! No, he is not here yet; but Pietro says he will come -soon, and Pietro knows all his movements." - -"Pietro is your husband?" said Agnes, inquiringly. - -"Yes, to be sure,--and a pretty good one, too, as men go," said -Giulietta. "They are sorry bargains, the best of them. But you'll get a -prize, if you play your cards well. Do you know that the King of Naples -and the King of France have both sent messages to our captain? Our men -hold all the passes between Rome and Naples, and so every one sees the -sense of gaining our captain's favor. But eat your breakfast, little -one, while I go and see to Pietro and the men." - -So saying, she bustled out of the room, locking the door behind her. - -Agnes took a little bread and water, resolved to fast and pray, as the -only defense against the danger in which she stood. - -After breakfasting, she retired into the inner room, and opening the -window, sat down and looked out on the prospect, and then, in a low -voice, began singing a hymn of Savonarola's, which had been taught -her by her uncle. It was entitled "Christ's Call to the Soul." The -words were conceived in that tender spirit of mystical devotion which -characterizes all this class of productions. - - "Fair soul, created in the primal hour, - Once pure and grand, - And for whose sake I left my throne and power - At God's right hand, - By this sad heart pierced through because I loved thee, - Let love and mercy to contrition move thee! - - "Cast off the sins thy holy beauty veiling, - Spirit divine! - Vain against thee the hosts of hell assailing: - My strength is thine! - Drink from my side the cup of life immortal, - And love will lead thee back to heaven's portal! - - "I, for thy sake, was pierced with many sorrows, - And bore the cross, - Yet heeded not the galling of the arrows, - The shame and loss. - So faint not thou, whate'er the burden be: - But bear it bravely, even to Calvary!" - -While Agnes was singing, the door of the outer room was slowly opened, -and Agostino Sarelli entered. He had just returned from Florence, -having ridden day and night to meet her whom he expected to find within -the walls of his fastness. - -He entered so softly that Agnes did not hear his approach, and he -stood listening to her singing. He had come back with his mind burning -with indignation against the Pope and the whole hierarchy then ruling -in Rome; but conversation with Father Antonio and the scenes he had -witnessed at San Marco had converted the blind sense of personal wrong -into a fixed principle of moral indignation and opposition. He no -longer found himself checked by the pleading of his early religious -recollections; for now he had a leader who realized in his own person -all his conceptions of those primitive apostles and holy bishops who -first fed the flock of the Lord in Italy. He had heard from his lips -the fearless declaration, "If Rome is against me, know that it is -not contrary to me, but to Christ, and its controversy is with God: -doubt not that God will conquer;" and he embraced the cause with all -the enthusiasm of patriotism and knighthood. In his view, the most -holy place of his religion had been taken by a robber, who reigned in -the name of Christ only to disgrace it; and he felt called to pledge -his sword, his life, his knightly honor to do battle against him. -He had urged his uncle in Milan to make interest for the cause of -Savonarola with the King of France; and his uncle, with that crafty -diplomacy which in those days formed the staple of what was called -statesmanship, had seemed to listen favorably to his views, intending, -however, no more by his apparent assent than to withdraw his nephew -from the dangers in which he stood in Italy, and bring him under his -own influence and guardianship in the court of France. But the wily -diplomate had sent Agostino Sarelli from his presence with the highest -possible expectations of his influence both with the King of France and -the Emperor of Germany in the present religious crisis in Italy. - -And now the time was come, Agostino thought, to break the spell under -which Agnes was held,--to show her the true character of the men -whom she was beholding through a mist of veneration arising entirely -from the dewy freshness of ignorant innocence. All the way home from -Florence he had urged his horse onward, burning to meet her, to tell -her all that he knew and felt, to claim her as his own, and to take her -into the sphere of light and liberty in which he himself moved. He did -not doubt his power, when she should once be where he could speak with -her freely, without fear of interruption. Hers was a soul too good and -pure, he said, to be kept in chains of slavish ignorance any longer. -When she ceased singing, he spoke from the outer apartment, "Agnes!" - -The name was uttered in the softest tone, but it sent the blood to her -heart, as if it were the summons of doom. Everything seemed to swim -before her, and grow dark for a moment; but by a strong effort she -lifted her heart in prayer, and, rising, came towards him. - -Agostino had figured her to himself in all that soft and sacred -innocence and freshness of bloom in which he had left her, a fair angel -child, looking through sad, innocent eyes on a life whose sins and -sorrows, and deeper loves and hates, she scarcely comprehended,--one -that he might fold in his arms with protecting tenderness, while he -gently reasoned with her fears and prejudices; but the figure that -stood there in the curtained arch, with its solemn, calm, transparent -paleness of face, its large, intense dark eyes, now vivid with some -mysterious and concentrated resolve, struck a strange chill over him. -Was it Agnes or a disembodied spirit that stood before him? For a few -moments there fell such a pause between them as the intensity of some -unexpressed feeling often brings with it, and which seems like a spell. - -"Agnes! Agnes! is it you?" at last said the knight, in a low, -hesitating tone. "Oh, my love, what has changed you so? Speak!--do -speak! Are you angry with me? Are you angry that I brought you here?" - -"My Lord, I am not angry," said Agnes, speaking in a cold, sad tone; -"but you have committed a great sin in turning aside those vowed to a -holy pilgrimage, and you tempt me to sin by this conversation, which -ought not to be between us." - -"Why not?" said Agostino. "You would not see me at Sorrento. I sought -to warn you of the dangers of this pilgrimage,--to tell you that Rome -is not what you think it is,--that it is not the seat of Christ, but -a foul cage of unclean birds, a den of wickedness,--that he they call -Pope is a vile impostor"-- - -"My Lord," said Agnes, speaking with a touch of something even -commanding in her tone, "you have me at advantage, it is true, but -you ought not to use it in trying to ruin my soul by blaspheming holy -things." And then she added, in a tone of indescribable sadness, "Alas, -that so noble and beautiful a soul should be in rebellion against the -only True Church! Have you forgotten that good mother you spoke of? -What must she feel to know that her son is an infidel!" - -"I am not an infidel, Agnes; I am a true knight of our Lord and Saviour -Jesus Christ, and a believer in the One True, Holy Church." - -"How can that be?" said Agnes. "Ah, seek not to deceive me! My Lord, -such a poor little girl as I am is not worth the pains." - -"By the Holy Mother, Agnes, by the Holy Cross, I do not seek to deceive -you! I speak on my honor as a knight and gentleman. I love you truly -and honorably, and seek you among all women as my spotless wife, and -would I lie to _you_?" - -"My Lord, you have spoken words which it is a sin for me to hear, a -peril to your soul to say; and if you had not, you must not seek me as -a wife. Holy vows are upon me. I must be the wife of no man here; it is -a sin even to think of it." - -"Impossible, Agnes!" said Agostino, with a start. "You have not taken -the veil already? If you had"-- - -"No, my Lord, I have not. I have only promised and vowed in my heart to -do so when the Lord shall open the way." - -"But such vows, dear Agnes, are often dispensed; they may be loosed -by the priest. Now hear me,--only hear me. I believe as your uncle -believes,--your good, pious uncle, whom you love so much. I have taken -the sacrament from his hand; he has blessed me as a son. I believe -as Jerome Savonarola believes. He it is, that holy prophet, who has -proclaimed this Pope and his crew to be vile usurpers, reigning in the -name of Christ." - -"My Lord! my Lord! I must not hear more! I must not,--I cannot,--I will -not!" said Agnes, becoming violently agitated, as she found herself -listening with interest to the pleadings of her lover. - -"Oh, Agnes, what has turned your heart against me? I thought you -promised to love me a little?" - -"Oh, hush! hush! don't plead with me!" she said, with a wild, -affrighted look. - -He sought to come towards her, and she sprang forward and threw herself -at his feet. - -"Oh, my Lord, for mercy's sake let me go! Let us go on our way! We will -pray for you always,--yes, always!" And she looked up at him in an -agony of earnestness. - -"Am I so hateful to you, then, Agnes?" - -"Hateful? Oh, no, no! God knows you are--I--I--yes, I love you too -well, and you have too much power over me; but, oh, do not use it! If -I hear you talk I shall yield,--I surely shall, and we shall be lost, -both of us! Oh, my God! I shall be the means of your damnation!" - -"Agnes!" - -"It is true! it is true! Oh, do not talk to me, but promise me, promise -me, or I shall die! Have pity on me! have pity on yourself!" - -In the agony of her feelings her voice became almost a shriek, and -her wild, affrighted face had a deadly pallor; she looked like one in -a death-agony. Agostino was alarmed, and hastened to soothe her, by -promising whatever she required: - -"Agnes, dear Agnes, I submit; only be calm. I promise -anything,--anything in the wide world you can ask." - -"Will you let me go?" - -"Yes." - -"And will you let my poor grandmamma go with me?" - -"Yes." - -"And you will not talk with me any more?" - -"Not if you do not wish it. And now," he said, "that I have submitted -to all these hard conditions, will you suffer me to raise you?" - -He took her hands and lifted her up; they were cold, and she was -trembling and shivering. He held them a moment; she tried to withdraw -them, and he let them go. - -"Farewell, Agnes!" he said. "I am going." - -She raised both her hands and pressed the sharp cross to her bosom, but -made no answer. - -"I yield to your will," he continued. "Immediately when I leave you -your grandmother will come to you, and the attendants who brought you -here will conduct you to the high-road. For me, since it is your will, -I part here. Farewell, Agnes!" - -He held out his hand, but she stood as before, pale and silent, with -her hands clasped on her breast. - -"Do your vows forbid even a farewell to a poor, humble friend?" said -the knight, in a low tone. - -"I cannot," said Agnes, speaking at broken intervals, in a suffocating -voice,--"for _your_ sake I cannot! I bear this pain for you,--for -_you_! Oh, repent, and meet me in heaven!" - -She gave him her hand; he kneeled and kissed it, pressed it to his -forehead, then rose and left the room. - -For a moment after the departure of the cavalier, Agnes felt a bitter -pang,--the pain which one feels on first realizing that a dear friend -is lost forever; and then, rousing herself with a start and a sigh, -she hurried into the inner room and threw herself on her knees, giving -thanks that the dreadful trial was past, and that she had not been left -to fail. - -In a few moments she heard the voice of her grandmother in the outer -apartment, and the old wrinkled creature clasped her grandchild in her -arms, and wept with a passionate abandonment of fondness, calling her -by every tender and endearing name which mothers give to their infants. - -"After all," said Elsie, "these are not such bad people, and I have -been right well entertained among them. They are of ourselves,--they do -not prey on the poor, but only on our enemies, the princes and nobles, -who look on us as sheep to be shorn and slaughtered for their wearing -and eating. These men are none such, but pitiful to poor peasants and -old widows, whom they feed and clothe out of the spoils of the rich. -As to their captain,--would you believe it?--he is the same handsome -gentleman who once gave you a ring,--you may have forgotten him, as -you never think of such things, but I knew him in a moment,--and such -a religious man, that no sooner did he find that we were pilgrims on a -holy errand, than he gave orders to have us set free with all honor, -and a band of the best of them to escort us through the mountains; and -the people of the town are all moved to do us reverence, and coming -with garlands and flowers to wish us well and ask our prayers. So let -us set forth immediately." - -Agnes followed her grandmother through the long passages and down the -dark, mouldy stairway to the court-yard, where two horses were standing -caparisoned for them. A troop of men in high peaked hats, cloaked and -plumed, were preparing also to mount, while a throng of women and -children stood pressing around. When Agnes appeared, enthusiastic cries -were heard: "_Viva Jesu!_" "_Viva Maria!_" "_Viva! viva Jesu! nostro -Re!_" and showers of myrtle-branches and garlands fell around. "Pray -for us!" "Pray for us, holy pilgrims!" was uttered eagerly by one and -another. Mothers held up their children; and beggars and cripples, aged -and sick,--never absent in an Italian town,--joined with loud cries -in the general enthusiasm. Agnes stood amid it all, pale and serene, -with that elevated expression of heavenly calm on her features which -is often the clear shining of the soul after the wrench and torture of -some great interior conflict. She felt that the last earthly chain was -broken, and that now she belonged to Heaven alone. She scarcely saw or -heard what was around her, wrapt in the calm of inward prayer. - -"Look at her! she is beautiful as the Madonna!" said one and another. -"She is divine as Santa Catarina!" said others. "She might have been -the wife of our chief, who is a nobleman of the oldest blood, but she -chose to be the bride of the Lord," said others: for Giulietta, with a -woman's love of romancing, had not failed to make the most among her -companions of the love-adventures of Agnes. - -Agnes meanwhile was seated on her palfrey, and the whole train passed -out of the court-yard into the dim, narrow street,--men, women, and -children following. On reaching the public square, they halted a moment -by the side of the antique fountain to water their horses. The groups -that surrounded it at this time were such as a painter would have -delighted to copy. The women and girls of this obscure mountain-town -had all that peculiar beauty of form and attitude which appears in the -studies of the antique; and as they poised on their heads their copper -water-jars of the old Etruscan pattern, they seemed as if they might be -statues of golden bronze, had not the warm tints of their complexion, -the brilliancy of their large eyes, and the bright picturesque colors -of their attire given the richness of painting to their classic -outlines. Then, too, the men, with their finely-moulded limbs, their -figures so straight and strong and elastic, their graceful attitudes, -and their well-fitting, showy costumes, formed a no less imposing -feature in the scene. Among them all sat Agnes waiting on her palfrey, -seeming scarcely conscious of the enthusiasm which surrounded her. Some -admiring friend had placed in her hand a large bough of blossoming -hawthorn, which she held unconsciously, as, with a sort of childlike -simplicity, she turned from right to left, to make reply to the request -for prayers, or to return thanks for the offered benediction of some -one in the crowd. - -When all the preparations were at last finished, the procession of -mounted horsemen, with a confused gathering of the population, passed -down the streets to the gates of the city, and as they passed they sang -the words of the Crusaders' Hymn, which had fluttered back into the -traditionary memory of Europe from the knights going to redeem the Holy -Sepulchre. - - "Fairest Lord Jesus, - Ruler of all Nature, - O Thou of God and man the Son! - Thee will I honor, - Thee will I cherish, - Thou, my soul's glory, joy, and crown! - - "Fair are the meadows, - Fairer still the woodlands, - Robed in the pleasing garb of spring: - Jesus shines fairer, - Jesus is purer - Who makes the woful heart to sing! - - "Fair is the sunshine, - Fairer still the moonlight, - And all the twinkling starry host: - Jesus shines fairer, - Jesus is purer, - Than all the angels heaven can boast!" - -They were singing the second verse, as, emerging from the dark -old gateway of the town, all the distant landscape of silvery -olive-orchards, crimson clover-fields, blossoming almond-trees, -fig-trees, and grapevines, just in the tender green of spring, burst -upon their view. Agnes felt a kind of inspiration. From the high -mountain elevation she could discern the far-off brightness of the -sea,--all between one vision of beauty,--and the religious enthusiasm -which possessed all around her had in her eye all the value of the -most solid and reasonable faith. With us, who may look on it from a -colder and more distant point of view, doubts may be suggested whether -this _naive_ impressibility to religious influences, this simple, -whole-hearted abandonment to their expression, had any real practical -value. The fact that any or all of the actors might before night rob -or stab or lie quite as freely as if it had not occurred may well give -reason for such a question. Be this as it may, the phenomenon is not -confined to Italy or the religion of the Middle Ages, but exhibits -itself in many a prayer-meeting and camp-meeting of modern days. For -our own part, we hold it better to have even transient upliftings of -the nobler and more devout element of man's nature than never to have -any at all, and that he who goes on in worldly and sordid courses, -without ever a spark of religious enthusiasm or a throb of aspiration, -is less of a man than he who sometimes soars heavenward, though his -wings be weak and he fall again. - -In all this scene Agostino Sarelli took no part. He had simply given -orders for the safe-conduct of Agnes, and then retired to his own room. -From a window, however, he watched the procession as it passed through -the gates of the city, and his resolution was immediately taken to -proceed at once by a secret path to the place where the pilgrims should -emerge upon the high-road. - -He had been induced to allow the departure of Agnes from seeing the -utter hopelessness by any argument or persuasion of removing a barrier -that was so vitally interwoven with the most sensitive religious nerves -of her being. He saw in her terrified looks, in the deadly paleness of -her face, how real and unaffected was the anguish which his words gave -her; he saw that the very consciousness of her own love to him produced -a sense of weakness which made her shrink in utter terror from his -arguments. - -"There is no remedy," he said, "but to let her go to Rome and see with -her own eyes how utterly false and vain is the vision which she draws -from the purity of her own believing soul. What Christian would not -wish that these fair dreams had any earthly reality? But this gentle -dove must not be left unprotected to fly into that foul, unclean cage -of vultures and harpies. Deadly as the peril may be to me to breathe -the air of Rome, I will be around her invisibly to watch over her." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -ROME - - -A vision rises upon us from the land of shadows. We see a wide plain, -miles and miles in extent, rolling in soft billows of green, and -girded on all sides by blue mountains, whose silver crests gleaming in -the setting sunlight tell that the winter yet lingers on their tops, -though spring has decked all the plain. So silent, so lonely, so fair -is this waving expanse with its guardian mountains, it might be some -wild solitude, an American prairie or Asiatic steppe, but that in the -midst thereof, on some billows of rolling land, we discern a city, -sombre, quaint, and old,--a city of dreams and mysteries,--a city of -the living and the dead. And this is Rome,--weird, wonderful, ancient, -mighty Rome,--mighty once by physical force and grandeur, mightier -now in physical decadence and weakness by the spell of a potent moral -enchantment. - -As the sun is moving westward, the whole air around becomes flooded -with a luminousness which seems to transfuse itself with pervading -presence through every part of the city, and make all its ruinous and -mossy age bright and living. The air shivers with the silver vibrations -of hundreds of bells, and the evening glory goes up and down, -soft-footed and angelic, transfiguring all things. The broken columns -of the Forum seem to swim in golden mist, and luminous floods fill the -Coliseum as it stands with its thousand arches looking out into the -city like so many sightless eye-holes in the skull of the past. The -tender light pours up streets dank and ill-paved,--into noisome and -cavernous dens called houses, where the peasantry of to-day vegetate -in contented subservience. It illuminates many a dingy court-yard, -where the moss is green on the walls, and gurgling fountains fall into -quaint old sculptured basins. It lights up the gorgeous palaces of -Rome's modern princes, built with stones wrenched from ancient ruins. -It streams through a wilderness of churches, each with its tolling -prayer-bell, and steals through painted windows into the dazzling -confusion of pictured and gilded glories that glitter and gleam from -roof and wall within. And it goes, too, across the Tiber, up the filthy -and noisome Ghetto, where, hemmed in by ghostly superstition, the sons -of Israel are growing up without vital day, like wan white plants in -cellars; and the black mournful obelisks of the cypresses in the villas -around, it touches with a solemn glory. The castle of St. Angelo looks -like a great translucent, luminous orb, and the statues of saints and -apostles on the top of St. John Lateran glow as if made of living fire, -and seem to stretch out glorified hands of welcome to the pilgrims that -are approaching the Holy City across the soft, palpitating sea of green -that lies stretched like a misty veil around it. - -Then, as now, Rome was an enchantress of mighty and wonderful power, -with her damp, and mud, and mould, her ill-fed, ill-housed populace, -her ruins of old glory rising dim and ghostly amid her palaces of -to-day. With all her awful secrets of rapine, cruelty, ambition, -injustice,--with her foul orgies of unnatural crime,--with the very -corruption of the old buried Roman Empire steaming up as from a -charnel-house, and permeating all modern life with its effluvium of -deadly uncleanness,--still Rome had that strange, bewildering charm of -melancholy grandeur and glory which made all hearts cleave to her, and -eyes and feet turn longingly towards her from the ends of the earth. -Great souls and pious yearned for her as for a mother, and could not -be quieted till they had kissed the dust of her streets. There they -fondly thought was rest to be found,--that rest which through all weary -life ever recedes like the mirage of the desert; there sins were to be -shriven which no common priest might forgive, and heavy burdens unbound -from the conscience by an infallible wisdom; there was to be revealed -to the praying soul the substance of things hoped for, the evidence -of things not seen. Even the mighty spirit of Luther yearned for the -breast of this great unknown mother, and came humbly thither to seek -the repose which he found afterwards in Jesus. - -At this golden twilight-hour along the Appian Way come the pilgrims of -our story with prayers and tears of thankfulness. Agnes looks forward -and sees the saintly forms on St. John Lateran standing in a cloud of -golden light and stretching out protecting hands to bless her. - -"See, see, grandmother!" she exclaimed, "yonder is our Father's house, -and all the saints beckon us home! Glory be to God, who hath brought us -hither!" - -Within the church the evening-service is going on, and the soft glory -streaming in reveals that dizzying confusion of riches and brightness -with which the sensuous and color-loving Italian delights to encircle -the shrine of the Heavenly Majesty. Pictured angels in cloudy wreaths -smile down from the gold-fretted roofs and over the round, graceful -arches; and the floor seems like a translucent sea of precious marbles -and gems fused into solid brightness, and reflecting in long gleams and -streaks dim intimations of the sculptured and gilded glories above. -Altar and shrine are now veiled in that rich violet hue which the -Church has chosen for its mourning color; and violet vestments, taking -the place of the gorgeous robes of the ecclesiastics, tell the approach -of that holy week of sadness when all Christendom falls in penitence at -the feet of that Almighty Love once sorrowful and slain for her. - -The long-drawn aisles are now full to overflowing with that weird -chanting which one hears nowhere but in Rome at this solemn season. -Those voices, neither of men nor women, have a wild, morbid energy -which seems to search every fibre of the nervous system, and, instead -of soothing or calming, to awaken strange yearning agonies of pain, -ghostly unquiet longings, and endless feverish, unrestful cravings. -The sounds now swell and flood the church as with a rushing torrent of -wailing and clamorous supplication,--now recede and moan themselves -away to silence in far-distant aisles, like the last faint sigh of -discouragement and despair. Anon they burst out from the room, they -drop from arches and pictures, they rise like steam from the glassy -pavement, and, meeting, mingle in wavering clamors of lamentation -and shrieks of anguish. One might fancy lost souls from out the -infinite and dreary abysses of utter separation from God might thus -wearily and aimlessly moan and wail, breaking into agonized tumults -of desire, and trembling back into exhaustions of despair. Such music -brings only throbbings and yearnings, but no peace; and yonder, on the -glassy floor, at the foot of a crucifix, a poor mortal lies sobbing -and quivering under its pitiless power, as if it had wrenched every -tenderest nerve of memory, and torn open every half-healed wound of the -soul. - -When the chanting ceases, he rises slow and tottering, and we see in -the wan face turning towards the dim light the well-remembered features -of Father Francesco. Driven to despair by the wild, ungovernable force -of his unfortunate love, weary of striving, overborne with a hopeless -and continually accumulating load of guilt, he had come to Rome to lay -down at the feet of heavenly wisdom the burden which he can no longer -bear alone; and rising now, he totters to a confessional where sits a -holy cardinal to whom has been deputed the office to hear and judge -those sins which no subordinate power in the Church is competent to -absolve. - -Father Francesco kneels down with a despairing, confiding movement, -such as one makes, when, after a long struggle of anguish, one has -found a refuge; and the churchman within inclining his ear to the -grating, the confession begins. - -Could we only be clairvoyant, it would be worth our while to note the -difference between the two faces, separated only by the thin grating of -the confessional, but belonging to souls whom an abyss wide as eternity -must forever divide from any common ground of understanding. - -On the one side, with ear close to the grate, is a round, smoothly -developed Italian head, with that rather tumid outline of features -which one often sees in a Roman in middle life, when easy living -and habits of sensual indulgence begin to reveal their signs in the -countenance, and to broaden and confuse the clear-cut, statuesque -lines of early youth. Evidently, that is the head of an easy-going, -pleasure-loving man, who has waxed warm with good living, and performs -the duties of his office with an unctuous grace as something becoming -and decorous to be gone through with. Evidently he is puzzled and -half-contemptuous at the revelations which come through the grating in -hoarse whispers from those thin, trembling lips. The other man, who -speaks with the sweat of anguish beaded on his brow, with a mortal -pallor on his thin, worn cheeks, is putting questions to the celestial -guide within which seem to that guide the ravings of a crazed lunatic; -and yet there is a deadly, despairing earnestness in the appeal that -makes an indistinct knocking at the door of his heart, for the man is -born of woman, and can feel that somehow or other these are the words -of a mighty agony. - -He addresses him some words of commonplace ghostly comfort, and gives -a plenary absolution. The Capuchin monk rises up and stands meekly -wiping the sweat from his brow, the churchman leaves his box, and they -meet face to face, when each starts, seeing in the other the apparition -of a once well-known countenance. - -"What! Lorenzo Sforza!" said the churchman. "Who would have thought it. -Don't you remember me?" - -"Not Lorenzo Sforza," said the other, a hectic brilliancy flushing his -pale cheek; "that name is buried in the tomb of his fathers; he you -speak to knows it no more. The unworthy Brother Francesco, deserving -nothing of God or man, is before you." - -"Oh, come, come!" said the other, grasping his hand in spite of his -resistance; "that is all proper enough in its place; but between -friends, you know, what's the use? It's lucky we have you here now; we -want one of your family to send on a mission to Florence, and talk a -little reason into the citizens and the Signoria. Come right away with -me to the Pope." - -"Brother, in God's name let me go! I have no mission to the great of -this world; and I cannot remember or be called by the name of other -days, or salute kinsman or acquaintance after the flesh, without a -breach of vows." - -"Poh, poh! you are nervous, dyspeptic; you don't understand things. -Don't you see you are where vows can be bound and loosed? Come along, -and let us wake you out of this nightmare. Such a pother about a -pretty peasant-girl! One of your rank and taste, too! I warrant me the -little sinner practiced on you at the confessional. I know their ways, -the whole of them; but you mourn over it in a way that is perfectly -incomprehensible. If you had tripped a little,--paid a compliment, or -taken a liberty or two,--it would have been only natural; but this -desperation, when you have resisted like Saint Anthony himself, shows -your nerves are out of order and you need change." - -"For God's sake, brother, tempt me not!" said Father Francesco, -wrenching himself away, with such a haggard and insane vehemence as -quite to discompose the churchman; and drawing his cowl over his face, -he glided swiftly down a side-aisle and out the door. - -The churchman was too easy-going to risk the fatigue of a scuffle with -a man whom he considered as a monomaniac; but he stepped smoothly and -stealthily after him and watched him go out. - -"Look you," he said to a servant in violet livery who was waiting by -the door, "follow yonder Capuchin and bring me word where he abides. He -may be cracked," he said to himself; "but, after all, one of his blood -may be worth mending, and do us good service either in Florence or -Milan. We must have him transferred to some convent here, where we can -lay hands on him readily, if we want him." - -Meanwhile Father Francesco wends his way through many a dark and -dingy street to an ancient Capuchin convent, where he finds brotherly -admission. Weary and despairing is he beyond all earthly despair, for -the very altar of his God seems to have failed him. He asked for bread, -and has got a stone,--he asked a fish, and has got a scorpion. Again -and again the worldly, almost scoffing, tone of the superior to whom he -has been confessing sounds like the hiss of a serpent in his ear. - -But he is sent for in haste to visit the bedside of the Prior, who has -long been sick and failing, and who gladly embraces this opportunity -to make his last confession to a man of such reputed sanctity in his -order as Father Francesco. For the acute Father Johannes, casting about -for various means to empty the Superior's chair at Sorrento, for his -own benefit, and despairing of any occasion of slanderous accusation, -had taken the other tack of writing to Rome extravagant laudations of -such feats of penance and saintship in his Superior as in the view of -all the brothers required that such a light should no more be hidden in -an obscure province, but be set on a Roman candlestick, where it might -give light to the faithful in all parts of the world. Thus two currents -of worldly intrigue were uniting to push an unworldly man to a higher -dignity than he either sought or desired. - -When a man has a sensitive or sore spot in his heart, from the pain of -which he would gladly flee to the ends of the earth, it is marvelous -what coincidences of events will be found to press upon it wherever he -may go. Singularly enough, one of the first items in the confession of -the Capuchin Superior related to Agnes, and his story was in substance -as follows. In his youth he had been induced by the persuasions of -the young son of a great and powerful family to unite him in the holy -sacrament of marriage with a _protegee_ of his mother's; but the -marriage being detected, it was disavowed by the young nobleman, and -the girl and her mother chased out ignominiously, so that she died in -great misery. For his complicity in this sin the conscience of the -monk had often troubled him, and he had kept track of the child she -left, thinking perhaps some day to make reparation by declaring the -true marriage of her mother. That the residence of this young girl had -been at Sorrento, where she had been living quite retired, under the -charge of her old grandmother,--and here the dying man made inquiry if -Father Francesco was acquainted with any young person answering to the -description which he gave. - -Father Francesco had no difficulty in recognizing the person,--and -assured the dying penitent, that, in all human probability, she was -at this moment in Rome. The monk then certified upon the holy cross -to the true marriage of her mother, and besought Father Francesco to -make the same known to one of the kindred whom he named. He further -informed him, that this family, having fallen under the displeasure of -the Pope and his son, Caesar Borgia, had been banished from the city, -and their property confiscated, so that there was none of them to be -found thereabouts except an aged widowed sister of the young man, who, -having married into a family in favor with the Pope, was allowed to -retain her possessions, and now resided in a villa near Rome, where -she lived retired, devoting her whole life to works of piety. The old -man therefore conjured Father Francesco to lose no time in making this -religious lady understand the existence of so near a kinswoman, and -take her under her protection. Thus strangely did Father Francesco find -himself obliged to take up that enchanted thread which had led him into -labyrinths so fatal to his peace. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -THE SAINT'S REST - - -Agnes entered the city of Rome in a trance of enthusiastic emotion, -almost such as one might imagine in a soul entering the heavenly -Jerusalem above. To her exalted ideas she was approaching not only the -ground hallowed by the blood of apostles and martyrs, not merely the -tombs of the faithful, but the visible "general assembly and church of -the first-born which are written in heaven." Here reigned the appointed -representative of Jesus,--and she imagined a benignant image of a -prince clothed with honor and splendor, who was yet the righter of all -wrongs, the redresser of all injuries, the friend and succorer of the -poor and needy; and she was firm in a secret purpose to go to this -great and benignant father, and on her knees entreat him to forgive the -sins of her lover, and remove the excommunication that threatened at -every moment his eternal salvation. For she trembled to think of it,--a -sudden accident, a thrust of a dagger, a fall from his horse, might put -him forever beyond the pale of repentance,--he might die unforgiven, -and sink to eternal pain. - -If any should wonder that a Christian soul could preserve within itself -an image so ignorantly fair, in such an age, when the worldliness and -corruption in the Papal chair were obtruded by a thousand incidental -manifestations, and were alluded to in all the calculations of simple -common people, who looked at facts with a mere view to the guidance of -their daily conduct, it is necessary to remember the nature of Agnes's -religious training, and the absolute renunciation of all individual -reasoning which from infancy had been laid down before her as the first -and indispensable prerequisite of spiritual progress. To believe,--to -believe utterly and blindly,--not only without evidence, but against -evidence,--to reject the testimony even of her senses, when set against -the simple affirmation of her superiors,--had been the beginning, -middle, and end of her religious instruction. When a doubt assailed her -mind on any point, she had been taught to retire within herself and -repeat a prayer; and in this way her mental eye had formed the habit -of closing to anything that might shake her faith as quickly as the -physical eye closes at a threatened blow. Then, as she was of a poetic -and ideal nature, entirely differing from the mass of those with whom -she associated, she had formed that habit of abstraction and mental -reverie which prevented her hearing or perceiving the true sense of a -great deal that went on around her. The conversations that commonly -were carried on in her presence had for her so little interest that -she scarcely heard them. The world in which she moved was a glorified -world,--wherein to be sure, the forms of every-day life appeared, -but appeared as different from what they were in reality as the old -mouldering daylight view of Rome is from the warm translucent glory of -its evening transfiguration. - -So in her quiet, silent heart she nursed this beautiful hope of finding -in Rome the earthly image of her Saviour's home above, of finding in -the head of the Church the real image of her Redeemer,--the friend to -whom the poorest and lowliest may pour out their souls with as much -freedom as the highest and noblest. The spiritual directors who had -formed the mind of Agnes in her early days had been persons in the same -manner taught to move in an ideal world of faith. The Mother Theresa -had never seen the realities of life, and supposed the Church on earth -to be all that the fondest visions of human longing could paint it. -The hard, energetic, prose experience of old Jocunda, and the downright -way with which she sometimes spoke of things as a trooper's wife must -have seen them, were repressed and hushed down, as the imperfect faith -of a half-reclaimed worldling,--they could not be allowed to awaken -her from the sweetness of so blissful a dream. In like manner, when -Lorenzo Sforza became Father Francesco, he strove with earnest prayer -to bury his gift of individual reason in the same grave with his family -name and worldly experience. As to all that transpired in the real -world, he wrapped himself in a mantle of imperturbable silence; the -intrigues of popes and cardinals, once well known to him, sank away -as a forbidden dream; and by some metaphysical process of imaginative -devotion, he enthroned God in the place of the dominant powers, and -taught himself to receive all that came from them in uninquiring -submission, as proceeding from unerring wisdom. Though he had begun -his spiritual life under the impulse of Savonarola, yet so perfect had -been his isolation from all tidings of what transpired in the external -world that the conflict which was going on between that distinguished -man and the Papal hierarchy never reached his ear. He sought and aimed -as much as possible to make his soul like the soul of one dead, which -adores and worships in ideal space, and forgets forever the scenes and -relations of earth; and he had so long contemplated Rome under the -celestial aspects of his faith, that, though the shock of his first -confession there had been painful, still it was insufficient to shake -his faith. It had been God's will, he thought, that where he looked -for aid he should meet only confusion, and he bowed to the inscrutable -will, and blindly adored the mysterious revelation. If such could be -the submission and the faith of a strong and experienced man, who can -wonder at the enthusiastic illusions of an innocent, trustful child? - -Agnes and her grandmother entered the city of Rome just as the -twilight had faded into night; and though Agnes, full of faith and -enthusiasm, was longing to begin immediately the ecstatic vision of -shrines and holy places, old Elsie commanded her not to think of -anything further that night. They proceeded, therefore, with several -other pilgrims who had entered the city, to a church specially set -apart for their reception, connected with which were large dormitories -and a religious order whose business was to receive and wait upon -them, and to see that all their wants were supplied. This religious -foundation is one of the oldest in Rome; and it is esteemed a work of -especial merit and sanctity among the citizens to associate themselves -temporarily in these labors in Holy Week. Even princes and princesses -come, humble and lowly, mingling with those of common degree, and all, -calling each other brother and sister, vie in kind attentions to these -guests of the Church. - -When Agnes and Elsie arrived, several of these volunteer assistants -were in waiting. Agnes was remarked among all the rest of the company -for her peculiar beauty and the rapt enthusiastic expression of her -face. - -Almost immediately on their entrance into the reception hall connected -with the church, they seemed to attract the attention of a tall lady -dressed in deep mourning, and accompanied by a female servant, with -whom she was conversing on those terms of intimacy which showed -confidential relations between the two. - -"See!" she said, "my Mona, what a heavenly face is there!--that sweet -child has certainly the light of grace shining through her. My heart -warms to her." - -"Indeed," said the old servant, looking across, "and well it -may,--dear lamb come so far! But, Holy Virgin, how my head swims! How -strange!--that child reminds me of some one. My Lady, perhaps, may -think of some one whom she looks like." - -"Mona, you say true. I have the same strange impression that I have -seen a face like hers, but who or where I cannot say." - -"What would my Lady say, if I said it was our dear Prince?--God rest -his soul!" - -"Mona, it _is_ so,--yes," added the lady, looking more intently, "how -singular!--the very traits of our house in a peasant-girl! She is of -Sorrento, I judge, by her costume,--what a pretty one it is! That old -woman is her mother, perhaps. I must choose her for my care,--and, -Mona, you shall wait on her mother." - -So saying, the Princess Paulina crossed the hall, and, bending affably -over Agnes, took her hand and kissed her, saying,-- - -"Welcome, my dear little sister, to the house of our Father!" - -Agnes looked up with strange, wondering eyes into the face that was -bent to hers. It was sallow and sunken, with deep lines of ill-health -and sorrow, but the features were noble, and must once have been -beautiful; the whole action, voice, and manner were dignified and -impressive. Instinctively she felt that the lady was of superior birth -and breeding to any with whom she had been in the habit of associating. - -"Come with me," said the lady; "and this--your mother"--she added. - -"She is my grandmother," said Agnes. - -"Well, then, your grandmother, sweet child, shall be attended to by my -good sister Mona here." - -The Princess Paulina drew the hand of Agnes through her arm, and, -laying her hand affectionately on it, looked down and smiled tenderly -on her. - -"Are you very tired, my dear?" - -"Oh, no! no!" said Agnes,--"I am so happy, so blessed to be here!" - -"You have traveled a long way?" - -"Yes, from Sorrento; but I am used to walking,--I did not feel it to be -long,--my heart kept me up,--I wanted to come home so much." - -"Home?" said the Princess. - -"Yes, to my soul's home,--the house of our dear Father the Pope." - -The Princess started, and looked incredulously down for a moment; then -noticing the confiding, whole-hearted air of the child, she sighed and -was silent. - -"Come with me above," she said, "and let me attend a little to your -comfort." - -"How good you are, dear lady!" said Agnes. - -"I am not good, my child,--I am only your unworthy sister in Christ;" -and as the lady spoke, she opened the door into a room where were a -number of other female pilgrims seated around the wall, each attended -by a person whose peculiar care she seemed to be. - -At the feet of each was a vessel of water, and when the seats were all -full, a cardinal in robes of office entered, and began reading prayers. -Each lady present, kneeling at the feet of her chosen pilgrim, divested -them carefully of their worn and travel-soiled shoes and stockings, -and proceeded to wash them. It was not a mere rose-water ceremony, but -a good hearty washing of feet that for the most part had great need -of the ablution. While this service was going on, the cardinal read -from the Gospel how a Greater than they all had washed the feet of His -disciples, and said, "If I, your Lord and Master, have washed your -feet, ye also ought to wash one another's feet." Then all repeated in -concert the Lord's Prayer, while each humbly kissed the feet she had -washed, and proceeded to replace the worn and travel-soiled shoes and -stockings with new and strong ones, the gift of Christian love. Each -lady then led her charge into a room where tables were spread with a -plain and wholesome repast of all such articles of food as the season -of Lent allowed. Each placed her _protegee_ at table, and carefully -attended to all her wants at the supper, and afterwards dormitories -were opened for their repose. - -The Princess Paulina performed all these offices for Agnes with a -tender earnestness which won upon her heart. The young girl thought -herself indeed in that blessed society of which she had dreamed, where -the high-born and the rich become through Christ's love the servants -of the poor and lowly; and through all the services she sat in a sort -of dream of rapture. How lovely this reception into the Holy City! how -sweet thus to be taken to the arms of the great Christian family, bound -together in the charity which is the bond of perfectness! - -"Please tell me, dear lady," said Agnes, after supper, "who is that -holy man that prayed with us?" - -"Oh, he--he is the Cardinal Capello," said the Princess. - -"I should like to have spoken with him," said Agnes. - -"Why, my child?" - -"I wanted to ask him when and how I could get speech with our dear -Father the Pope, for there is somewhat on my mind that I would lay -before him." - -"My poor little sister," said the Princess, much perplexed, "you do not -understand things. What you speak of is impossible. The Pope is a great -king." - -"I know he is," said Agnes,--"and so is our Lord Jesus; but every soul -may come to him." - -"I cannot explain to you now," said the Princess,--"there is not time -to-night. But I shall see you again. I will send for you to come to -my house, and there talk with you about many things which you need to -know. Meanwhile, promise me, dear child, not to try to do anything of -the kind you spoke of until I have talked with you." - -"Well, I will not," said Agnes, with a glance of docile affection, -kissing the hand of the Princess. - -The action was so pretty,--the great, soft, dark eyes looked so -fawn-like and confiding in their innocent tenderness, that the lady -seemed much moved. - -"Our dear Mother bless thee, child!" she said, laying her hand on her -head, and stooping to kiss her forehead. - -She left her at the door of the dormitory. - -The Princess and her attendant went out of the church-door, where her -litter stood in waiting. The two took their seats in silence, and -silently pursued their way through the streets of the old dimly-lighted -city and out of one of its principal gates to the wide Campagna beyond. -The villa of the Princess was situated on an eminence at some distance -from the city, and the night-ride to it was solemn and solitary. They -passed along the old Appian Way over pavements that had rumbled under -the chariot-wheels of the emperors and nobles of a bygone age, while -along their way, glooming up against the clear of the sky, were vast -shadowy piles,--the tombs of the dead of other days. All mouldering and -lonely, shaggy and fringed with bushes and streaming wild vines through -which the night-wind sighed and rustled, they might seem to be pervaded -by the restless spirits of the dead; and as the lady passed them, she -shivered, and, crossing herself, repeated an inward prayer against -wandering demons that walk in desolate places. - -Timid and solitary, the high-born lady shrank and cowered within -herself with a distressing feeling of loneliness. A childless widow -in delicate health, whose paternal family had been for the most part -cruelly robbed, exiled, or destroyed by the reigning Pope and his -family, she felt her own situation a most unprotected and precarious -one, since the least jealousy or misunderstanding might bring upon -her, too, the ill-will of the Borgias, which had proved so fatal -to the rest of her race. No comfort in life remained to her but her -religion, to whose practice she clung as to her all; but even in this -her life was embittered by facts to which, with the best disposition -in the world, she could not shut her eyes. Her own family had been -too near the seat of power not to see all the base intrigues by which -that sacred and solemn position of Head of the Christian Church had -been traded for as a marketable commodity. The pride, the indecency, -the cruelty of those who now reigned in the name of Christ came over -her mind in contrast with the picture painted by the artless, trusting -faith of the peasant-girl with whom she had just parted. Her mind had -been too thoroughly drilled in the non-reflective practice of her faith -to dare to put forth any act of reasoning upon facts so visible and so -tremendous,--she rather trembled at herself for seeing what she saw and -for knowing what she knew, and feared somehow that this very knowledge -might endanger her salvation; and so she rode homeward cowering and -praying like a frightened child. - -"Does my Lady feel ill?" said the old servant, anxiously. - -"No, Mona, no,--not in body." - -"And what is on my Lady's mind now?" - -"Oh, Mona, it is only what is always there. To-morrow is Palm Sunday, -and how can I go to see the murderers and robbers of our house in -holy places? Oh, Mona, what can Christians do, when such men handle -holy things? It was a comfort to wash the feet of those poor simple -pilgrims, who tread in the steps of the saints of old; but how I felt -when that poor child spoke of wanting to see the Pope!" - -"Yes," said Mona, "it's like sending the lamb to get spiritual counsel -of the wolf." - -"See what sweet belief the poor infant has! Should not the head of the -Christian Church be such as she thinks? Ah, in the old days, when the -Church here in Rome was poor and persecuted, there were Popes who were -loving fathers and not haughty princes." - -"My dear Lady," said the servant, "pray, consider, the very stones have -ears. We don't know what day we may be turned out, neck and heels, to -make room for some of their creatures." - -"Well, Mona," said the lady, with some spirit, "I'm sure I haven't said -any more than you have." - -"Holy Mother! and so you haven't, but somehow things look more -dangerous when other people say them. A pretty child that was, as you -say; but that old thing, her grandmother, is a sharp piece. She is a -Roman, and lived here in her early days. She says the little one was -born hereabouts; but she shuts up her mouth like a vise, when one would -get more out of her." - -"Mona, I shall not go out to-morrow; but you go to the services, and -find the girl and her grandmother, and bring them out to me. I want to -counsel the child." - -"You may be sure," said Mona, "that her grandmother knows the ins and -outs of Rome as well as any of us, for all she has learned to screw up -her lips so tight." - -"At any rate, bring her to me, because she interests me." - -"Well, well, it shall be so," said Mona. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -PALM SUNDAY - - -The morning after her arrival in Rome, Agnes was awakened from sleep -by a solemn dropping of bell-tones which seemed to fill the whole air, -intermingled dimly at intervals with long-drawn plaintive sounds of -chanting. She had slept profoundly, overwearied with her pilgrimage, -and soothed by that deep lulling sense of quiet which comes over one, -when, after long and weary toils, some auspicious goal is at length -reached. She had come to Rome, and been received with open arms into -the household of the saints, and seen even those of highest degree -imitating the simplicity of the Lord in serving the poor. Surely, -this was indeed the house of God and the gate of heaven; and so the -bell-tones and chants, mingling with her dreams, seemed naturally -enough angel-harpings and distant echoes of the perpetual adoration -of the blessed. She rose and dressed herself with a tremulous joy. -She felt full hope that somehow--in what way she could not say--this -auspicious beginning would end in a full fruition of all her wishes, an -answer to all her prayers. - -"Well, child," said old Elsie, "you must have slept well; you look -fresh as a lark." - -"The air of this holy place revives me," said Agnes, with enthusiasm. - -"I wish I could say as much," said Elsie. "My bones ache yet with the -tramp, and I suppose nothing will do but we must go out now to all the -holy places, up and down and hither and yon, to everything that goes -on. I saw enough of it all years ago when I lived here." - -"Dear grandmother, if you are tired, why should you not rest? I can go -forth alone in this holy city. No harm can possibly befall me here. I -can join any of the pilgrims who are going to the holy places where I -long to worship." - -"A likely story!" said Elsie. "I know more about old Rome than you do, -and I tell you, child, that you do not stir out a step without me; so -if you must go, I must go too,--and like enough it's for my soul's -health. I suppose it is," she added, after a reflective pause. - -"How beautiful it was that we were welcomed so last night!" said Agnes; -"that dear lady was so kind to me!" - -"Ay, ay, and well she might be!" said Elsie, nodding her head. "But -there's no truth in the kindness of the nobles to us, child. They don't -do it because they love us, but because they expect to buy heaven by -washing our feet and giving us what little they can clip and snip off -from their abundance." - -"Oh, grandmother," said Agnes, "how can you say so? Certainly, if any -one ever spoke and looked lovingly, it was that dear lady." - -"Yes, and she rolls away in her carriage, well content, and leaves you -with a pair of new shoes and stockings,--you, as worthy of a carriage -and a palace as she." - -"No, grandmamma; she said she should send for me to talk more with her." - -"_She_ said she should send for you?" said Elsie. "Well, well, that is -strange, to be sure!--that is wonderful!" she added, reflectively. "But -come, child, we must hasten through our breakfast and prayers, and go -to see the Pope, and all the great birds with fine feathers that fly -after him." - -"Yes, indeed!" said Agnes, joyfully. "Oh, grandmamma, what a blessed -sight it will be!" - -"Yes, child, and a fine sight enough he makes with his great canopy -and his plumes and his servants and his trumpeters;--there isn't a king -in Christendom that goes so proudly as he." - -"No other king is worthy of it," said Agnes. "The Lord reigns in him." - -"Much you know about it!" said Elsie, between her teeth, as they -started out. - -The streets of Rome through which they walked were damp and -cellar-like, filthy and ill-paved; but Agnes neither saw nor felt -anything of inconvenience in this: had they been floored, like those of -the New Jerusalem, with translucent gold, her faith could not have been -more fervent. - -Rome is at all times a forest of quaint costumes, a pantomime of -shifting scenic effects of religious ceremonies. Nothing there, however -singular, strikes the eye as out-of-the-way or unexpected, since no -one knows precisely to what religious order it may belong, or what -individual vow or purpose it may represent. Neither Agnes nor Elsie, -therefore, was surprised, when they passed through the doorway to the -street, at the apparition of a man covered from head to foot in a long -robe of white serge, with a high-peaked cap of the same material drawn -completely down over his head and face. Two round holes cut in this -ghostly head-gear revealed simply two black glittering eyes, which -shone with that singular elfish effect which belongs to the human eye -when removed from its appropriate and natural accessories. As they -passed out, the figure rattled a box on which was painted an image -of despairing souls raising imploring hands from very red tongues of -flame, by which it was understood at once that he sought aid for souls -in Purgatory. Agnes and her grandmother each dropped therein a small -coin and went on their way; but the figure followed them at a little -distance behind, keeping carefully within sight of them. - -By means of energetic pushing and striving, Elsie contrived to secure -for herself and her grandchild stations in the piazza in front of the -church, in the very front rank, where the procession was to pass. A -motley assemblage it was, this crowd, comprising every variety of -costume of rank and station and ecclesiastical profession,--cowls -and hoods of Franciscan and Dominican,--picturesque head dresses -of peasant-women of different districts,--plumes and ruffs of more -aspiring gentility,--mixed with every quaint phase of foreign costume -belonging to the strangers from different parts of the earth;--for, -like the old Jewish Passover, this celebration of Holy Week had its -assemblage of Parthians, Medes, Elamites, dwellers in Mesopotamia, -Cretes, and Arabians, all blending in one common memorial. - -Amid the strange variety of persons among whom they were crowded, Elsie -remarked the stranger in the white sack, who had followed them, and who -had stationed himself behind them,--but it did not occur to her that -his presence there was other than merely accidental. - -And now came sweeping up the grand procession, brilliant with scarlet -and gold, waving with plumes, sparkling with gems,--it seemed as if -earth had been ransacked and human invention taxed to express the -ultimatum of all that could dazzle and bewilder,--and, with a rustle -like that of ripe grain before a swaying wind, all the multitude went -down on their knees as the cortege passed. Agnes knelt, too, with -clasped hands, adoring the sacred vision enshrined in her soul; and as -she knelt with upraised eyes, her cheeks flushed with enthusiasm, her -beauty attracted the attention of more than one in the procession. - -"There is the model which our master has been looking for," said a -young and handsome man in a rich dress of black velvet, who, by his -costume, appeared to hold the rank of first chamberlain in the Papal -suite. - -The young man to whom he spoke gave a bold glance at Agnes and -answered,-- - -"Pretty little rogue, how well she does the saint!" - -"One can see that with judicious arrangement she might make a nymph as -well as a saint," said the first speaker. - -"A Daphne, for example," said the other, laughing. - -"And she wouldn't turn into a laurel, either," said the first. -"Well, we must keep our eye on her." And as they were passing into -the church-door, he beckoned to a servant in waiting and whispered -something, indicating Agnes with a backward movement of his hand. - -The servant, after this, kept cautiously within observing distance of -her, as she with the crowd pressed into the church to assist at the -devotions. - -Long and dazzling were those ceremonies, when, raised on high like -an enthroned God, Pope Alexander VI. received the homage of bended -knee from the ambassadors of every Christian nation, from heads of -all ecclesiastical orders, and from generals and chiefs and princes -and nobles, who, robed and plumed and gemmed in all the brightest and -proudest that earth could give, bowed the knee humbly and kissed his -foot in return for the palm-branch which he presented. Meanwhile, -voices of invisible singers chanted the simple event which all this -splendor was commemorating,--how of old Jesus came into Jerusalem meek -and lowly, riding on an ass,--how His disciples cast their garments -in the way, and the multitude took branches of palm-trees to come -forth and meet Him,--how He was seized, tried, condemned to a cruel -death,--and the crowd, with dazzled and wondering eyes following the -gorgeous ceremonial, reflected little how great was the satire of the -contrast, how different the coming of that meek and lowly One to suffer -and to die from this triumphant display of worldly pomp and splendor in -His professed representative. - -But to the pure all things are pure, and Agnes thought only of the -enthronement of all virtues, of all celestial charities and unworldly -purities in that splendid ceremonial, and longed within herself to -approach so near as to touch the hem of those wondrous and sacred -garments. It was to her enthusiastic imagination like the unclosing -of celestial doors, where the kings and priests of an eternal and -heavenly temple move to and fro in music, with the many-colored glories -of rainbows and sunset clouds. Her whole nature was wrought upon by -the sights and sounds of that gorgeous worship,--she seemed to burn -and brighten like an altar-coal, her figure appeared to dilate, her -eyes grew deeper and shone with a starry light, and the color of her -cheeks flushed up with a vivid glow; nor was she aware how often eyes -were turned upon her, nor how murmurs of admiration followed all her -absorbed, unconscious movements. "_Ecco! Eccola!_" was often repeated -from mouth to mouth around her, but she heard it not. - -When at last the ceremony was finished, the crowd rushed again out -of the church to see the departure of various dignitaries. There was -a perfect whirl of dazzling equipages, and glittering lackeys, and -prancing horses, crusted with gold, flaming in scarlet and purple, -retinues of cardinals and princes and nobles and ambassadors all in one -splendid confused jostle of noise and brightness. - -Suddenly a servant in a gorgeous scarlet livery touched Agnes on the -shoulder, and said, in a tone of authority,-- - -"Young maiden, your presence is commanded." - -"Who commands it?" said Elsie, laying her hand on her grandchild's -shoulder fiercely. - -"Are you mad?" whispered two or three women of the lower orders to -Elsie at once; "don't you know who that is? Hush, for your life!" - -"I shall go with you, Agnes," said Elsie, resolutely. - -"No, you will not," said the attendant, insolently. "This maiden is -commanded, and none else." - -"He belongs to the Pope's nephew," whispered a voice in Elsie's ear. -"You had better have your tongue torn out than say another word." -Whereupon, Elsie found herself actually borne backward by three or four -stout women. - -Agnes looked round and smiled on her,--a smile full of innocent -trust,--and then, turning, followed the servant into the finest of the -equipages, where she was lost to view. - -Elsie was almost wild with fear and impotent rage; but a low, -impressive voice now spoke in her ear. It came from the white figure -which had followed them in the morning. - -"Listen," it said, "and be quiet; don't turn your head, but hear what -I tell you. Your child is followed by those who will save her. Go your -ways whence you came. Wait till the hour after the Ave Maria, then come -to the Porta San Sebastiano, and all will be well." - -When Elsie turned to look she saw no one, but caught a distant glimpse -of a white figure vanishing in the crowd. She returned to her asylum, -wondering and disconsolate, and the first person whom she saw was old -Mona. - -"Well, good-morrow, sister!" she said. "Know that I am here on a -strange errand. The Princess has taken such a liking to you that -nothing will do but we must fetch you and your little one out to her -villa. I looked everywhere for you in church this morning. Where have -you hid yourselves?" - -"We were there," said Elsie, confused, and hesitating whether to speak -of what had happened. - -"Well, where is the little one? Get her ready; we have horses in -waiting. It is a good bit out of the city." - -"Alack!" said Elsie, "I know not where she is." - -"Holy Virgin!" said Mona, "how is this?" - -Elsie, moved by the necessity which makes it a relief to open the -heart to some one, sat down on the steps of the church and poured forth -the whole story into the listening ear of Mona. - -"Well, well, well!" said the old servant, "in our days, one does -not wonder at anything, one never knows one day what may come the -next,--but this is bad enough!" - -"Do you think," said Elsie, "there is any hope in that strange promise?" - -"One can but try it," said Mona. - -"If you could but be there then," said Elsie, "and take us to your -mistress." - -"Well, I will wait, for my mistress has taken an especial fancy to your -little one, more particularly since this morning, when a holy Capuchin -came to our house and held a long conference with her, and after he was -gone I found my lady almost in a faint, and she would have it that we -should start directly to bring her out here, and I had much ado to let -her see that the child would do quite as well after services were over. -I tired myself looking about for you in the crowd." - -The two women then digressed upon various gossiping particulars, -as they sat on the old mossy, grass-grown steps, looking up over -house-tops yellow with lichen, into the blue spring air, where flocks -of white pigeons were soaring and careering in the soft, warm sunshine. -Brightness and warmth and flowers seemed to be the only idea natural -to that charming weather, and Elsie, sad-hearted and foreboding as she -was, felt the benign influence. Rome, which had been so fatal a place -to her peace, yet had for her, as it has for every one, potent spells -of a lulling and soothing power. Where is the grief or anxiety that can -resist the enchantment of one of Rome's bright, soft, spring days? - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -THE NIGHT-RIDE - - -The villa of the Princess Paulina was one of those soft, idyllic -paradises which lie like so many fairy-lands around the dreamy -solitudes of Rome. They are so fair, so wild, so still, these villas! -Nature in them seems to run in such gentle sympathy with Art, that -one feels as if they had not been so much the product of human skill -as some indigenous growth of Arcadian ages. There are quaint terraces -shadowed by clipped ilex-trees, whose branches make twilight even in -the sultriest noon; there are long-drawn paths, through wildernesses -where cyclamens blossom in crimson clouds among crushed fragments -of sculptured marble green with the moss of ages, and glossy-leaved -myrtles put forth their pale blue stars in constellations under the -leafy shadows. Everywhere is the voice of water, ever lulling, ever -babbling, and taught by Art to run in many a quaint caprice,--here -to rush down marble steps slippery with sedgy green, there to spout -up in silvery spray, and anon to spread into a cool, waveless lake, -whose mirror reflects trees and flowers far down in some visionary -underworld. Then there are wide lawns, where the grass in spring is a -perfect rainbow of anemones, white, rose, crimson, purple, mottled, -streaked, and dappled with ever varying shade of sunset clouds. There -are soft, moist banks where purple and white violets grow large -and fair, and trees all interlaced with ivy, which runs and twines -everywhere, intermingling its dark, graceful leaves and vivid young -shoots with the bloom and leafage of all shadowy places. - -In our day, these lovely places have their dark shadow ever haunting -their loveliness: the malaria, like an unseen demon, lies hid in their -sweetness. And in the time we are speaking of, a curse not less deadly -poisoned the beauties of the Princess's villa,--the malaria of fear. - -The graveled terrace in front of the villa commanded, through the -clipped arches of the ilex-trees, the Campagna with its soft, -undulating bands of many-colored green, and the distant city of Rome, -whose bells were always filling the air between with a tremulous -vibration. Here, during the long sunny afternoon while Elsie and Monica -were crooning together on the steps of the church, the Princess Paulina -walked restlessly up and down, looking forth on the way towards the -city for the travelers whom she expected. - -Father Francesco had been there that morning and communicated to her -the dying message of the aged Capuchin, from which it appeared that -the child who had so much interested her was her near kinswoman. -Perhaps, had her house remained at the height of its power and -splendor, she might have rejected with scorn the idea of a kinswoman -whose existence had been owing to a _mesalliance_; but a member of -an exiled and disinherited family, deriving her only comfort from -unworldly sources, she regarded this event as an opportunity afforded -her to make expiation for one of the sins of her house. The beauty and -winning graces of her young kinswoman were not without their influence -in attracting a lonely heart deprived of the support of natural -ties. The Princess longed for something to love, and the discovery -of a legitimate object of family affection was an event in the weary -monotony of her life; and therefore it was that the hours of the -afternoon seemed long while she looked forth towards Rome, listening to -the ceaseless chiming of its bells, and wondering why no one appeared -along the road. - -The sun went down, and all the wide plain seemed like the sea at -twilight, lying in rosy and lilac and purple shadowy bands, out of -which rose the old city, solemn and lonely as some enchanted island of -dreamland, with a flush of radiance behind it and a tolling of weird -music filling all the air around. Now they are chanting the Ave Maria -in hundreds of churches, and the Princess worships in distant accord, -and tries to still the anxieties of her heart with many a prayer. -Twilight fades and fades, the Campagna becomes a black sea, and the -distant city looms up like a dark rock against the glimmering sky, -and the Princess goes within and walks restlessly through the wide -halls, stopping first at one open window and then at another to listen. -Beneath her feet she treads a cool mosaic pavement where laughing -Cupids are dancing. Above, from the ceiling, Aurora and the Hours look -down in many-colored clouds of brightness. The sound of the fountains -without is so clear in the intense stillness that the peculiar voice -of each one can be told. That is the swaying noise of the great jet -that rises from marble shells and falls into a wide basin, where -silvery swans swim round and round in enchanted circles; and the other -slenderer sound is the smaller jet that rains down its spray into the -violet-borders deep in the shrubbery; and that other, the shallow -babble of the waters that go down the marble steps to the lake. How -dreamlike and plaintive they all sound in the night stillness! The -nightingale sings from the dark shadows of the wilderness; and the -musky odors of the cyclamen come floating ever and anon through the -casement, in that strange, cloudy way in which flower scents seem to -come and go in the air in the night season. - -At last the Princess fancies she hears the distant tramp of horses' -feet, and her heart beats so that she can scarcely listen: now she -hears it,--and now a rising wind, sweeping across the Campagna, seems -to bear it moaning away. She goes to a door and looks out into the -darkness. Yes, she hears it now, quick and regular,--the beat of -many horses' feet coming in hot haste along the road. Surely the few -servants whom she has sent cannot make all this noise! and she trembles -with vague affright. Perhaps it is a tyrannical message, bringing -imprisonment and death. She calls a maid, and bids her bring lights -into the reception-hall. A few moments more, and there is a confused -stamping of horses' feet approaching the house, and she hears the -voices of her servants. She runs into the piazza, and sees dismounting -a knight who carries Agnes in his arms pale and fainting. Old Elsie and -Monica, too, dismount, with the Princess's men-servants; but, wonderful -to tell, there seems besides them to be a train of some hundred armed -horsemen. - -The timid Princess was so fluttered and bewildered that she lost all -presence of mind, and stood in uncomprehending wonder, while Monica -pushed authoritatively into the house, and beckoned the knight to bring -Agnes and lay her on a sofa, when she and old Elsie busied themselves -vigorously with restoratives. - -The Lady Paulina, as soon as she could collect her scattered senses, -recognized in Agostino the banished lord of the Sarelli family, a race -who had shared with her own the hatred and cruelty of the Borgia tribe; -and he in turn had recognized a daughter of the Colonnas. He drew her -aside into a small boudoir adjoining the apartment. - -"Noble lady," he said, "we are companions in misfortune, and so, I -trust, you will pardon what seems a tumultuous intrusion on your -privacy. I and my men came to Rome in disguise, that we might watch -over and protect this poor innocent, who now finds asylum with you." - -"My Lord," said the Princess, "I see in this event the wonderful -working of the good God. I have but just learned that this young -person is my near kinswoman; it was only this morning that the fact -was certified to me on the dying confession of a holy Capuchin, -who privately united my brother to her mother. The marriage was an -indiscretion of his youth; but afterwards he fell into more grievous -sin in denying the holy sacrament, and leaving his wife to die in -misery and dishonor, and perhaps for this fault such great judgments -fell upon him. I wish to make atonement in such sort as is yet possible -by acting as a mother to this child." - -"The times are so troublous and uncertain," said Agostino, "that she -must have stronger protection than that of any woman. She is of a most -holy and religious nature, but as ignorant of sin as an angel who never -has seen anything out of heaven; and so the Borgias enticed her into -their impure den, from which, God helping, I have saved her. I tried -all I could to prevent her coming to Rome, and to convince her of the -vileness that ruled here; but the poor little one could not believe me, -and thought me a heretic only for saying what she now knows from her -own senses." - -The Lady Paulina shuddered with fear. - -"Is it possible that you have come into collision with the dreadful -Borgias? What will become of us?" - -"I brought a hundred men into Rome in different disguises," said -Agostino, "and we gained over a servant in their household, through -whom I entered and carried her off. Their men pursued us, and we had a -fight in the streets, but for the moment we mustered more than they. -Some of them chased us a good distance. But it will not do for us to -remain here. As soon as she is revived enough, we must retreat towards -one of our fastnesses in the mountains, whence, when rested, we shall -go northward to Florence, where I have powerful friends, and she has -also an uncle, a holy man, by whose counsels she is much guided." - -"You must take me with you," said the Princess, in a tremor of anxiety. -"Not for the world would I stay, if it be known you have taken refuge -here. For a long time their spies have been watching about me; they -only wait for some occasion to seize upon my villa, as they have on -the possessions of all my father's house. Let me flee with you. I have -a brother-in-law in Florence who hath often urged me to escape to him -till times mend,--for, surely, God will not allow the wicked to bear -rule forever." - -"Willingly, noble lady, will we give you our escort,--the more so that -this poor child will then have a friend with her beseeming her father's -rank. Believe me, lady, she will do no discredit to her lineage. -She was trained in a convent, and her soul is a flower of marvelous -beauty. I must declare to you here that I have wooed her honorably to -be my wife, and she would willingly be so, had not some scruples of a -religious vocation taken hold on her, to dispel which I look for the -aid of the holy father, her uncle." - -"It would be a most fit and proper thing," said the Princess, "thus to -ally our houses, in hope of some good time to come which shall restore -their former standing and possessions. Of course some holy man must -judge of the obstacle interposed by her vocation; but I doubt not the -Church will be an indulgent mother in a case where the issue seems so -desirable." - -"If I be married to her," said Agostino, "I can take her out of all -these strifes and confusions which now agitate our Italy to the court -of France, where I have an uncle high in favor with the King, and who -will use all his influence to compose these troubles in Italy, and -bring about a better day." - -While this conversation was going on, bountiful refreshments had been -provided for the whole party, and the attendants of the Princess -received orders to pack all her jewels and valuable effects for a -sudden journey. - -As soon as preparations could be made, the whole party left the villa -of the Princess for a retreat in the Alban Mountains, where Agostino -and his band had one of their rendezvous. Only the immediate female -attendants of the Princess, and one or two men-servants, left with her. -The silver plate, and all objects of particular value, were buried in -the garden. This being done, the keys of the house were intrusted to a -gray-headed servant, who with his wife had grown old in the family. - -It was midnight before everything was ready for starting. The moon cast -silver gleams through the ilex-avenues, and caused the jet of the great -fountain to look like a wavering pillar of cloudy brightness, when -the Princess led forth Agnes upon the wide veranda. Two gentle, yet -spirited little animals from the Princess's stables were there awaiting -them, and they were lifted into their saddles by Agostino. - -"Fear nothing, Madam," he said, observing how the hands of the Princess -trembled; "a few hours will put us in perfect safety, and I shall be at -your side constantly." - -Then lifting Agnes to her seat, he placed the reins in her hand. - -"Are you rested?" he asked. - -It was the first time since her rescue that he had spoken to Agnes. The -words were brief, but no expressions of endearment could convey more -than the manner in which they were spoken. - -"Yes, my Lord," said Agnes firmly, "I am rested." - -"You think you can bear the ride?" - -"I can bear anything, so I escape," she said. - -The company were now all mounted, and were marshaled in regular order. -A body of armed men rode in front; then came Agnes and the Princess, -with Agostino between them, while two or three troopers rode on either -side; Elsie, Monica, and the servants of the Princess followed close -behind, and the rear was brought up in like manner by armed men. - -The path wound first through the grounds of the villa, with its plats -of light and shade, its solemn groves of stone-pines rising like -palm-trees high in air above the tops of all other trees, its terraces -and statues and fountains,--all seeming so lovely in the midnight -stillness. - -"Perhaps I am leaving all this forever," said the Princess. - -"Let us hope for the best," said Agostino. "It cannot be that God -will suffer the seat of the Apostles to be subjected to such ignominy -and disgrace much longer. I am amazed that no Christian kings have -interfered before for the honor of Christendom. I have it from the best -authority that the King of Naples burst into tears when he heard of the -election of this wretch to be Pope. He said that it was a scandal which -threatened the very existence of Christianity. He has sent me secret -messages divers times expressive of sympathy, but he is not of himself -strong enough. Our hope must lie either in the King of France or the -Emperor of Germany: perhaps both will engage. There is now a most holy -monk in Florence who has been stirring all hearts in a wonderful way. -It is said that the very gifts of miracles and prophecy are revived in -him, as among the holy Apostles, and he has been bestirring himself to -have a General Council of the Church to look into these matters. When I -left Florence, a short time ago, the faction opposed to him broke into -the convent and took him away. I myself was there." - -"What!" said Agnes, "did they break into the convent of the San Marco? -My uncle is there." - -"Yes, and he and I fought side by side with the mob who were rushing -in." - -"Uncle Antonio fight!" said Agnes, in astonishment. - -"Even women will fight, when what they love most is attacked," said the -knight. - -He turned to her, as he spoke, and saw in the moonlight a flash from -her eye, and an heroic expression on her face, such as he had never -remarked before; but she said nothing. The veil had been rudely torn -from her eyes; she had seen with horror the defilement and impurity -of what she had ignorantly adored in holy places, and the revelation -seemed to have wrought a change in her whole nature. - -"Even you could fight, Agnes," said the knight, "to save your religion -from disgrace." - -"No," said she; "but," she added, with gathering firmness, "I could -die. I should be glad to die with and for the holy men who would save -the honor of the true faith. I should like to go to Florence to my -uncle. If he dies for his religion, I should like to die with him." - -"Ah, live to teach it to me!" said the knight, bending towards her, as -if to adjust her bridle-rein, and speaking in a voice scarcely audible. -In a moment he was turned again towards the Princess, listening to her. - -"So it seems," she said, "that we shall be running into the thick of -the conflict in Florence." - -"Yes, but my uncle hath promised that the King of France shall -interfere. I have hope something may even now have been done. I hope to -effect something myself." - -Agostino spoke with the cheerful courage of youth. Agnes glanced -timidly up at him. How great the change in her ideas! No longer looking -on him as a wanderer from the fold, an enemy of the Church, he seemed -now in the attitude of a champion of the faith, a defender of holy -men and things against a base usurpation. What injustice had she done -him, and how patiently had he borne that injustice! Had he not sought -to warn her against the danger of venturing into that corrupt city? -Those words which so much shocked her, against which she had shut her -ears, were all true; she had found them so; she could doubt no longer. -And yet he had followed her, and saved her at the risk of his life. -Could she help loving one who had loved her so much, one so noble and -heroic? Would it be a sin to love him? She pondered the dark warnings -of Father Francesco, and then thought of the cheerful, fervent piety -of her old uncle. How warm, how tender, how life-giving had been his -presence always! how full of faith and prayer, how fruitful of heavenly -words and thoughts had been all his ministrations!--and yet it was for -him and with him and his master that Agostino Sarelli was fighting, -and against him the usurping head of the Christian Church. Then there -was another subject for pondering during this night-ride. The secret -of her birth had been told her by the Princess, who claimed her as -kinswoman. It had seemed to her at first like the revelations of a -dream; but as she rode and reflected, gradually the idea shaped itself -in her mind. She was, in birth and blood, the equal of her lover, and -henceforth her life would no more be in that lowly plane where it had -always moved. She thought of the little orange-garden at Sorrento, of -the gorge with its old bridge, the Convent, the sisters, with a sort of -tender, wondering pain. Perhaps she should see them no more. In this -new situation she longed once more to see and talk with her old uncle, -and to have him tell her what were her duties. - -Their path soon began to be a wild clamber among the mountains, now -lost in the shadow of groves of gray, rustling olives, whose knotted, -serpent roots coiled round the rocks, and whose leaves silvered in -the moonlight whenever the wind swayed them. Whatever might be the -roughness and difficulties of the way, Agnes found her knight ever at -her bridle-rein, guiding and upholding, steadying her in her saddle -when the horse plunged down short and sudden descents, and wrapping -her in his mantle to protect her from the chill mountain-air. When -the day was just reddening in the sky, the whole troop made a sudden -halt before a square stone tower which seemed to be a portion of a -ruined building, and here some of the men dismounting knocked at an -arched door. It was soon swung open by a woman with a lamp in her hand, -the light of which revealed very black hair and eyes, and heavy gold -ear-rings. - -"Have my directions been attended to?" said Agostino, in a tone of -command. "Are there places made ready for these ladies to sleep?" - -"There are, my Lord," said the woman, obsequiously, "the best we could -get ready on so short a notice." - -Agostino came up to the Princess. "Noble Madam," he said, "you will -value safety before all things; doubtless the best that can be done -here is but poor, but it will give you a few hours for repose where you -may be sure of being in perfect safety." - -So saying, he assisted her and Agnes to dismount, and Elsie and -Monica also alighting, they followed the woman into a dark stone -passage and up some rude stone steps. She opened at last the door of a -brick-floored room, where beds appeared to have been hastily prepared. -There was no furniture of any sort except the beds. The walls were -dusty and hung with cobwebs. A smaller apartment opening into this had -beds for Elsie and Monica. - -The travelers, however, were too much exhausted with their night-ride -to be critical; the services of disrobing and preparing for rest were -quickly concluded, and in less than an hour all were asleep, while -Agostino was busy concerting the means for an immediate journey to -Florence. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -"LET US ALSO GO, THAT WE MAY DIE WITH HIM" - - -Father Antonio sat alone in his cell in the San Marco in an attitude -of deep dejection. The open window looked into the garden of the -convent, from which steamed up the fragrance of violet, jasmine, and -rose, and the sunshine lay fair on all that was without. On a table -beside him were many loose and scattered sketches; and an unfinished -page of the Breviary he was executing, rich in quaint tracery of -gold and arabesques, seemed to have recently occupied his attention, -for his palette was wet and many loose brushes lay strewed around. -Upon the table stood a Venetian glass with a narrow neck and a bulb -clear and thin as a soap-bubble, containing vines and blossoms of the -passion-flower, which he had evidently been using as models in his work. - -The page he was illuminating was the prophetic Psalm which describes -the ignominy and sufferings of the Redeemer. It was surrounded by a -wreathed border of thorn-branches interwoven with the blossoms and -tendrils of the passion-flower, and the initial letters of the first -two words were formed by a curious combination of the hammer, the -nails, the spear, the crown of thorns, the cross, and other instruments -of the Passion; and clear, in red letter, gleamed out those wonderful, -mysterious words, consecrated by the remembrance of a more than mortal -anguish, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" - -The artist monk had perhaps fled to his palette to assuage the -throbbings of his heart, as a mourning mother flies to the cradle of -her child; but even there his grief appeared to have overtaken him, -for the work lay as if pushed from him in an access of anguish such as -comes from the sudden recurrence of some overwhelming recollection. -He was leaning forward with his face buried in his hands, sobbing -convulsively. - -The door opened, and a man advancing stealthily behind laid a hand -kindly on his shoulder, saying softly, "So, so, brother!" - -Father Antonio looked up, and, dashing his hand hastily across his -eyes, grasped that of the new-comer convulsively, and saying only, "Oh, -Baccio! Baccio!" hid his face again. - -The eyes of the other filled with tears, as he answered gently,-- - -"Nay, but, my brother, you are killing yourself. They tell me that you -have eaten nothing for three days, and slept not for weeks; you will -die of this grief." - -"Would that I might! Why could not I die with him as well as Fra -Domenico? Oh, my master! my dear master!" - -"It is indeed a most heavy day to us all," said Baccio della Porta, -the amiable and pure-minded artist better known to our times by his -conventual name of Fra Bartolommeo. "Never have we had among us such a -man, and if there be any light of grace in my soul, his preaching first -awakened it, brother. I only wait to see him enter Paradise, and then -I take farewell of the world for ever. I am going to Prato to take the -Dominican habit and follow him as near as I may." - -"It is well, Baccio, it is well," said Father Antonio; "but you must -not put out the light of your genius in those shadows,--you must still -paint for the glory of God." - -"I have no heart for painting now," said Baccio, dejectedly. "He was my -inspiration, he taught me the holier way, and he is gone." - -At this moment the conference of the two was interrupted by a knocking -at the door, and Agostino Sarelli entered, pale and disordered. - -"How is this?" he said, hastily. "What devils' carnival is this which -hath broken loose in Florence? Every good thing is gone into dens -and holes, and every vile thing that can hiss and spit and sting is -crawling abroad. What do the princes of Europe mean to let such things -be?" - -"Only the old story," said Father Antonio,--"_Principes convenerunt in -unum adversus Dominum, adversus Christum ejus._" - -So much were all three absorbed in the subject of their thoughts, that -no kind of greeting or mark of recognition passed among them, such as -is common when people meet after temporary separation. Each spoke out -from the fullness of his soul, as from an overflowing bitter fountain. - -"Was there no one to speak for him,--no one to stand up for the pride -of Italy,--the man of his age?" said Agostino. - -"There was one voice raised for him in the council," said Father -Antonio. "There was Agnolo Niccolini: a grave man is this Agnolo, -and of great experience in public affairs, and he spoke out his mind -boldly. He told them flatly, that, if they looked through the present -time or the past ages they would not meet a man of such a high and -noble order as this, and that to lay at our door the blood of a man -the like of whom might not be born for centuries was too impious -and execrable a thing to be thought of. I'll warrant me, he made a -rustling among them when he said that, and the Pope's commissary--old -Romalino--then whispered and frowned; but Agnolo is a stiff old fellow -when he once begins a thing,--he never minded it, and went through with -his say. It seems to me he said that it was not for us to quench a -light like this, capable of giving lustre to the faith even when it had -grown dim in other parts of the world,--and not to the faith alone, -but to all the arts and sciences connected with it. If it were needed -to put restraint on him, he said, why not put him into some fortress, -and give him commodious apartments, with abundance of books, and pen, -ink, and paper, where he would write books to the honor of God and the -exaltation of the holy faith? He told them that this might be a good -to the world, whereas consigning him to death without use of any kind -would bring on our republic perpetual dishonor." - -"Well said for him!" said Baccio, with warmth; "but I'll warrant me, he -might as well have preached to the north wind in March, his enemies are -in such a fury." - -"Yes, yes," said Antonio, "it is just as it was of old: the chief -priests and Scribes and Pharisees were instant with loud voices, -requiring he should be put to death; and the easy Pilates, for fear of -the tumult, washed their hands of it." - -"And now," said Agostino, "they are putting up a great gibbet in the -shape of a cross in the public square, where they will hang the three -holiest and best men of Florence!" - -"I came through there this morning," said Baccio, "and there were young -men and boys shouting, and howling, and singing indecent songs, and -putting up indecent pictures, such as those he used to preach against. -It is just as you say. All things vile have crept out of their lair, -and triumph that the man who made them afraid is put down; and every -house is full of the most horrible lies about him,--things that they -said he confessed." - -"Confessed!" said Father Antonio,--"was it not enough that they tore -and tortured him seven times, but they must garble and twist the very -words that he said in his agony? The process they have published is -foully falsified,--stuffed full of improbable lies; for I myself have -read the first draught of all he _did_ say, just as Signor Ceccone -took it down as they were torturing him. I had it from Jacopo Manelli, -canon of our Duomo here, and he got it from Ceccone's wife herself. -They not only can torture and slay him, but they torture and slay his -memory with lies." - -"Would I were in God's place for one day!" said Agostino, speaking -through his clenched teeth. "May I be forgiven for saying so!" - -"_We_ are hot and hasty," said Father Antonio, "ever ready to call down -fire from heaven; but after all, 'the Lord reigneth, let the earth -rejoice.' 'Unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness.' Our -dear father is sustained in spirit and full of love. Even when they -let him go from the torture, he fell on his knees, praying for his -tormentors." - -"Good God! this passes me!" said Agostino, striking his hands together. -"Oh, wherefore hath a strong man arms and hands, and a sword, if he -must stand still and see such things done? If I had only my hundred -mountaineers here, I would make one charge for him to-morrow. If I -could only _do_ something," he added, striding impetuously up and down -the cell and clenching his fists. "What! hath nobody petitioned to stay -this thing?" - -"Nobody for him," said Father Antonio. "There was talk in the city -yesterday that Fra Domenico was to be pardoned; in fact, Romalino -was quite inclined to do it, but Battista Alberti talked violently -against it, and so Romalino said, 'Well, a monk more or less isn't -much matter,' and then he put his name down for death with the rest. -The order was signed by both commissaries of the Pope, and one was Fra -Turiano, the general of our order, a mild man, full of charity, but -unable to stand against the Pope." - -"Mild men are nuisances in such places," said Agostino, hastily; "our -times want something of another sort." - -"There be many who have fallen away from him even in our house here," -said Father Antonio, "as it was with our blessed Lord, whose disciples -forsook Him and fled. It seems to be the only thought with some how -they shall make their peace with the Pope." - -"And so the thing will be hurried through to-morrow," said Agostino, -"and when it's done and over, I'll warrant me there will be found kings -and emperors to say they meant to have saved him. It's a vile, evil -world, this of ours; an honorable man longs to see the end of it. But," -he added, coming up and speaking to Father Antonio, "I have a private -message for you." - -"I am gone this moment," said Baccio, rising with ready courtesy; "but -keep up heart, brother." - -So saying, the good-hearted artist left the cell, and Agostino said,-- - -"I bring tidings to you of your kindred. Your niece and sister are here -in Florence, and would see you. You will find them at the house of one -Gherardo Rosselli, a rich citizen of noble blood." - -"Why are they there?" said the monk, lost in amazement. - -"You must know, then, that a most singular discovery hath been made -by your niece at Rome. The sister of her father, being a lady of the -princely blood of Colonna, hath been assured of her birth by the -confession of the priest that married him; and being driven from Rome -by fear of the Borgias, they came hither under my escort, and wait to -see you. So, if you will come with me now, I will guide you to them." - -"Even so," said Father Antonio. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -MARTYRDOM - - -In a shadowy chamber of a room overlooking the grand square of Florence -might be seen, on the next morning, some of the principal personages -of our story. Father Antonio, Baccio della Porta, Agostino Sarelli, -the Princess Paulina, Agnes, with her grandmother, and a mixed crowd -of citizens and ecclesiastics, who all spoke in hushed and tremulous -voices, as men do in the chamber of mourners at a funeral. The -great, mysterious bell of the Campanile was swinging with dismal, -heart-shaking toll, like a mighty voice from the spirit-world; and -it was answered by the tolling of all the bells in the city, making -such wavering clangors and vibrating circles in the air over Florence -that it might seem as if it were full of warring spirits wrestling for -mastery. - -Toll! toll! toll! O great bell of the fair Campanile! for this day the -noblest of the wonderful men of Florence is to be offered up. Toll! -for an era is going out,--the era of her artists, her statesmen, her -poets, and her scholars. Toll! for an era is coming in,--the era of her -disgrace and subjugation and misfortune! - -The stepping of the vast crowd in the square was like the patter of -a great storm, and the hum of voices rose up like the murmur of the -ocean; but in the chamber all was so still that one could have heard -the dropping of a pin. - -Under the balcony of this room were seated in pomp and state the Papal -commissioners, radiant in gold and scarlet respectability; and Pilate -and Herod, on terms of the most excellent friendship, were ready to act -over again the part they had acted fourteen hundred years before. Now -has arrived the moment when the three followers of the Man of Calvary -are to be degraded from the fellowship of His visible Church. - -Father Antonio, Agostino, and Baccio stood forth in the balcony, and, -drawing in their breath, looked down, as the three men of the hour, -pale and haggard with imprisonment and torture, were brought up amid -the hoots and obscene jests of the populace. Savonarola first was -led before the tribunal, and there, with circumstantial minuteness, -endued with all his priestly vestments, which again, with separate -ceremonies of reprobation and ignominy, were taken from him. He stood -through it all serene as stood his Master when stripped of His garments -on Calvary. There is a momentary hush of voices and drawing in of -breaths in the great crowd. The Papal legate takes him by the hand and -pronounces the words, "Jerome Savonarola, I separate thee from the -Church Militant and the Church Triumphant." - -He is going to speak. - -"What says he?" said Agostino, leaning over the balcony. - -Solemnly and clear that impressive voice which so often had thrilled -the crowds in that very square made answer,-- - -"From the Church Militant you _may_ divide me; but from the Church -Triumphant, _no_,--_that_ is above your power!"--and a light flashed -out in his face as if a smile from Christ had shone down upon him. - -"Amen!" said Father Antonio; "he hath witnessed a good -confession,"--and turning, he went in, and, burying his face in his -hands, remained in prayer. - -When like ceremonies had been passed through with the others, the three -martyrs were delivered to the secular executioner, and, amid the -scoffs and jeers of the brutal crowd, turned their faces to the gibbet. - -"Brothers, let us sing the Te Deum," said Savonarola. - -"Do not so infuriate the mob," said the executioner, "for harm might be -done." - -"At least let us repeat it together," said he, "lest we forget it." - -And so they went forward, speaking to each other of the glorious -company of the apostles, the goodly fellowship of the prophets, the -noble army of martyrs, and giving thanks aloud in that great triumphal -hymn of the Church of all Ages. - -When the lurid fires were lighted which blazed red and fearful through -that crowded square, all in that silent chamber fell on their knees, -and Father Antonio repeated prayers for departing souls. - -To the last, that benignant right hand which had so often pointed the -way of life to that faithless city was stretched out over the crowd -in the attitude of blessing; and so loving, not hating, praying with -exaltation, and rendering blessing for cursing, the souls of the -martyrs ascended to the great cloud of witnesses above. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -CONCLUSION - - -A few days after the death of Savonarola, Father Antonio was found one -morning engaged in deep converse with Agnes. - -The Princess Paulina, acting for her family, desired to give her hand -to the Prince Agostino Sarelli, and the interview related to the -religious scruples which still conflicted with the natural desires of -the child. - -"Tell me, my little one," said Father Antonio, "frankly and truly, dost -thou not love this man with all thy heart?" - -"Yes, my father, I do," said Agnes; "but ought I not to resign this -love for the love of my Saviour?" - -"I see not why," said the monk. "Marriage is a sacrament as well as -holy orders, and it is a most holy and venerable one, representing -the divine mystery by which the souls of the blessed are united to -the Lord. I do not hold with Saint Bernard, who, in his zeal for a -conventual life, seemed to see no other way of serving God but for -all men and women to become monks and nuns. The holy order is indeed -blessed to those souls whose call to it is clear and evident, like -mine; but if there be a strong and virtuous love for a worthy object, -it is a vocation unto marriage, which should not be denied." - -"So, Agnes," said the knight, who had stolen into the room unperceived, -and who now boldly possessed himself of one of her hands "Father -Antonio hath decided this matter," he added, turning to the Princess -and Elsie, who entered, "and everything having been made ready for -my journey into France, the wedding ceremony shall take place on the -morrow, and, for that we are in deep affliction, it shall be as private -as may be." - -And so on the next morning the wedding ceremony took place, and the -bride and groom went on their way to France, where preparations -befitting their rank awaited them. - -Old Elsie was heard to observe to Monica, that there was some sense in -making pilgrimages, since this to Rome, which she had undertaken so -unwillingly, had turned out so satisfactory. - -In the reign of Julius II., the banished families who had been -plundered by the Borgias were restored to their rights and honors -at Rome; and there was a princess of the house of Sarelli then at -Rome, whose sanctity of life and manners was held to go back to the -traditions of primitive Christianity, so that she was renowned not less -for goodness than for rank and beauty. - -In those days, too, Raphael, the friend of Fra Bartolommeo, placed -in one of the grandest halls of the Vatican, among the Apostles and -Saints, the image of the traduced and despised martyr whose ashes had -been cast to the winds and waters in Florence. His memory lingered long -in Italy, so that it was even claimed that miracles were wrought in his -name and by his intercession. Certain it is, that the living words he -spoke were seeds of immortal flowers which blossomed in secret dells -and obscure shadows of his beautiful Italy. - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - - -Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant -preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. - -Simple typographical errors were corrected, sometimes by referencing a -different edition of this book. - -Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. - -Page 375: Missing punctuation in: one of her hands "Father Antonio.... -appears in a different edition as: one of her hands--"Father Antonio.... - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Agnes of Sorrento, by Harriet Beecher Stowe - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AGNES OF SORRENTO *** - -***** This file should be named 43076.txt or 43076.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/0/7/43076/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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