Chapter VIII: The Confession (1)

Venuta la mattina della Pasqua, la donna si levò in su l'aurora
et acconciossi, et andossene alla chiesa.--Il marito dall' altra
parte levatosi se ne andò a quella medesima chiesa, e fuvvi
prima di lei--e messasi prestamente una delle robe del prete
con un cappuccio grande a gote, come noi veggiamo che i preti
portano, avendosel tirato un poco innanzi, si mise a sedere in
coro.--Ora venendo alla confessione, tra le altre cose che la
donna gli disse, avendogli prima detto come maritata era, si fu
che ella era innamorata.... Quando il geloso udi questo, gli
parve che gli fosse dato di un coltello nel cuore.

BOCCACCIO. _Giornata_ VII. _Novella_ V.

When Easter morning came, the woman rose at dawn, dressed
herself, and went to church.... The husband also arose, went to
the same church, and reached it before her.... He then put on
hastily one of the priest's robes with a large hood, such as
monks generally wear, which he pulled somewhat down over his
face, and sat in the confessional.... Now when the woman came to
the confession, among other things she said--that, although she
was a married woman, yet she was desperately in love.... When
the jealous husband heard this, he felt as if struck by a dagger
in the middle of his heart.

Titta finally arrived (since all, living or dead, must come to some end) at the Duke's palace: he pulled the bell-rope four or five times, but no one answered. "It is evident," he said to himself, "that the husband is away, and is not expected home; and if husbands take a notion to arrive suddenly, they must pay the penalty of their rudeness: but I, not being a husband, will not wait, but put a remedy to it at once."

And as well as he could he inserted his arm and part of his shoulder between the bars of the gate, and with his fingers took the latch and opened it. This done, he went softly to the porter's room, who, with elbows stretched upon a table, and head resting on the back of his hands, slept as soundly as a dormouse. The merry fellow taking the horn, approached it so near the porter's ear as to cover it entirely, and gathering all the breath he could in his strong lungs, blew such a powerful blast as to make the whole palace shake from top to bottom. I will not describe the tremendous scream the porter uttered, nor what a leap he gave; these are things that can be better imagined than described: he was neither alive nor dead; he trembled all over, and knew not in what world he was. Not a human creature or animal within the palace, or in the street, could remain quiet in bed, but ran startled to see what was the matter.

When Titta had collected nearly all the Duke's domestics, he turned to the major-domo Don Inigo, and said to him:

"I come by the orders of his Excellency the Duke; I have this moment arrived from Rome, and have a letter which I must immediately consign into the hands of my Lady the Duchess."

"You cannot present yourself in such a dress to our lady; you must clothe yourself properly, and then I will announce you."

He then led him to a wardrobe, and dressing him in the Orsini livery, left him to wait until he could be announced to her Ladyship the Duchess.

Isabella slept not: sleep for a long time had not shaken its peaceful wings over those unhappy eyelids; and she would let it pass without even invoking it, for if painful thoughts oppressed her while awake, horrible phantoms afflicted her still more while asleep. She had become now resigned to her imminent destiny, and whatever happened could not disturb her; she would shut her eyes, and murmur in a low tone: _In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum._--She heard the door of her room open, it seemed as if some one had asked her whether he could come in, and she replied with a motion, without knowing herself whether it was consent or denial, so she was somewhat amazed when, reopening her eyes, she saw a man with one knee on the ground before her presenting a letter upon a crimson velvet cushion. Educated as she was in the dignified manners of the Court, she took the letter with a certain princely haughtiness, and read it; then handing it to the major-domo, said:

"Place it in the archives.--Rise, sir.--Inigo, give this soldier the usual courier's fee; and double it, for the news which he brings is very acceptable to me. Don Inigo, in a few days, after so long an absence, we shall see His Excellency the Duke.--May God keep you in His holy guard. Good night: go."

And when they had departed, Isabella, without heeding if anyone could hear her words, rose from the couch on which she was lying, and thus addressed Lady Lucrezia Frescobaldi, her lady in waiting:

"Lady Lucrezia, we are ready to take our departure, so that it would seem better for us to be prepared by taking the sacrament."

Lady Lucrezia belonged to that race of pale and delicate creatures, who are accustomed to accompany the powerful: they come with fortune, and go with it; not because they are bad or ungrateful, but because it is as innate in their nature as in the heliotrope to turn towards the direction of the sun; they pertain to the family of leaves, that are born in Spring, and fall in Autumn. They possess no will of their own, incapable of assent or denial; their minds, like barometers modified by the impression of air, bend according to the will of their masters. Such people have always been, and are still, very dangerous, for if the great did not meet with people ever ready to serve their wills, they would not dare to act as we see them every day; much the less if they could find souls like that of the simple Mary, who promise obedience, and give it, but do not sell their conscience; and when they reach that point in which they must either displease the worldly master, or the Lord of Heaven, they trust in Him who decks the lily of the valley, and nourishes even the slothful: poor and alone, they will start upon the desert of life, exclaiming like the patriarch, Abraham:--God will provide!

But the great rarely have friends, for if they had, fortune would have granted them too large a share of blessing. Let them take the example of that king of Spain, if they desire to be in company with a friend;--have their portrait painted together with a dog.

Lady Lucrezia, then, with her submissive air, replied:

"Your Highness, do just what your heart dictates."

"Yes, I have decided to confess; but I would like to have some holy man, who would know how to comfort my weary soul, and give rest to my mind, continually assailed by doubts; do you know anyone able to do that?"

"I do not."

"Father Marcello, who is so reputed in the city, might be a good counsellor."

"Yes, your Highness, I should think he might be."

"However, it would not be proper to send for him, for perhaps he might not be disposed to come; or coming, it could not be done so secretly, that idle people would not find it out; and I desire above all things secresy and discretion."

"You speak wisely, my Lady; for sometimes these fathers have more pride under that sackcloth of theirs than a Baron under a mantle of brocade."

"And going myself to church, I might easily be known."

"That is very likely."

"Perhaps ... to-morrow ... no, for it is already too late, and I could not in so short a time collect myself, and truly examine my soul...."

"Of course, in such a short time you would not be able to remember all your sins...."

"What do you know about my sins? And what, and how many they are? Who told you that it would be difficult for me to remember them?"

Lady Lucrezia, with too great a desire of pleasing her mistress, according to the usual habit, assented where she ought to have doubted.

The most wary courtier sometimes falls into this error; but if he grazes the boundary line, he rarely stumbles so as to break his legs.

Lady Lucrezia might have answered:

"Eh! my Lady! If I covered my face with my hands, know that I happened to peep through the fingers, and saw more than enough."

But, you may imagine, that even if she had the power to conceive such thoughts, she would have put them aside, as temptations of the devil!

So she replied as from inspiration:

"For a dignified and pure conscience like yours, so scrupulous of everything, making a mountain out of a mole-hill.... I can well understand, that the examination of the conscience must be a very serious thing.... There are some, to be sure, not so particular.... But for your Ladyship, it must indeed be a serious affair...."

Are the fish-hooks as old as the hills? I believe ever since Adam fishes have been caught by them. Thus, although flattery is of very ancient date, and although every man swears that he knows and detests it, yet by means of flattery, men, and particularly women, were always, and ever will be caught. Let him who reads be persuaded, that it is our nature to remember experience and its admonitions, as much as we remember the swallow that flew through the sky, or the smoke that escaped from our chimneys ten years ago.

Isabella, although she had any other inclination than smiling in her thoughts, yet could not help it on hearing herself praised, and God knows with what justice.

"The day after to-morrow, then, we shall rise early, and covered with a black mantilla go to the church of Santa Croce, perform our devotions, and return unobserved home."

"Yes, my Lady, it is a good idea, and a proof of your good judgment."

"Very well; let it be only between you and me, for no living soul must know it...."

"As for that, your Highness knows my fidelity and secresy...."

"Go to rest then, for it is already late, and to-morrow I may cause you to be called early."

"May God keep you in His holy guard."

* * * * *

Never did pilgrim touch more devoutly the holy shrine of his pilgrimage, than Titta finally sat down at table. It had been so well provided with food and drink, that his hunger was soon satisfied; but as to his thirst it was a different thing; for as flames increase with the addition of fuel, so his thirst increased by drinking. However, Titta was no man to allow wine to take away from him the use of his brains: too large a quantity would have been necessary for that; he drowned his wits in wine like ducks in a pond, or rather like skilful swimmers, who, hardly touching the bottom, return again to float on the surface; and in this half watchfulness of his thoughts, he showed himself more than ever acute and malignant. It often happens that the mind, when in the full exercise of its faculties, has no power to imagine or define an object, which on the morrow (the senses not yet returned to their usual offices) is seen wonderfully distinct amidst the light dreams that precede its awakening, as dawn precedes the day. In the like manner we see men half drunk, conceive and act better than if they were entirely sober.

The servants, seeing that he might never stop, had gradually disappeared, and he, remaining alone with Giulia as he desired, thus soliloquized:

"Oh, Giulia! oh, wine! oh, cards! oh, polar stars of my life: what would the world become without you? An extinguished lantern; a candle without a wick, a lamp without oil. If some one should say to me:--You must choose;--I would reply:--I cannot;--because Giulia is nothing without wine, and wine is nothing without cards: and they are like Ser Cecco and the Court of Berni. Ser Cecco cannot live without the Court, nor can the Court live without Ser Cecco.... They live necessarily together; they all form a single substance; they exist united like soul and body. Take away the soul from the body, and you would see the latter destroyed as Giulia would be destroyed without wine, and wine without cards.... Oh, Giulia!..."

"I don't understand such nonsense; and who knows to how many women you have said all this before; for indeed your words seem to me like old clothes, that through too much use fall to rags...."

"Oh, Giulia! I swear to you as I am a gentleman, _foi de gentilhomme_, as Francis First of France used to say, that what I have said to you, I have never said before to anyone...."

"Of course, to _no_ one...."

"Believe me as you believe in bread. I feel like an Etna in love, but I am firm as the Alps in constancy...."

"You are adding insult to injury in order to flatter a poor woman like me, who has already, I know not for how many months, wept for you, and wished for you in vain, wearying out with my prayers and vows all the saints in heaven...."

"Oh, Giulia!"

"And indeed in all this time there has been no want of flatterers, who came around me, and promised me great things; but I cared little for them; though I felt sorry for a poor young man, who tried to make me love him, and seeing that he could not succeed, drowned himself in...."

"A butt of wine!..."

"What, would you do me the wrong of not believing me?..."

"But, Giulia, how can I believe such things, when you yourself do not?--Be not angry, no; come near me: listen, when I embrace you it seems as if I was embracing the human race.--Be not cross, no, my girl; listen, let us talk reasonably. I should like to repose after the storms of life in a port of peace; and you could repose in it with me, because, Blessed Virgin! where can I find rest without you? We must never speak of past things: I celebrating a holy marriage with you, would make of all your past life a great ablution in the waters of the river Lethe.--Years go by, Giulia, and we must look to the future...."

"But it seems to me that between my years and yours there must be a difference of some dozen years."

"Put aside such womanish frivolities, Giulia, and remember that you women are like flowers; you grow fast, and wither fast, and the best that remains of you is memory. I asked you to talk seriously. I have already served the Duke of Bracciano many years: I have received several wounds for him; once, in the battle of Lepanto, had it not been for me, a Turk would have cleaved his head like a reed, and yet I am still a soldier. And would that it had ended here; but I have always seen carriage horses descend to a draw-cart; and some day or other we might find ourselves, before starting for the great voyage, making our last resting-place in the hospital of St. Maria Nuova...."

"But how can we help this? You resemble those rats who wished to hang a bell around the cat's neck...."

"Woman, listen to me, for it has been proved that we men possess a much greater understanding than you. It would be necessary, then, to lay aside a little pile of ducats, and try to get a little shop whereby to carry on a good remunerative trade. You would attend it, and I could help you in attending it, and strive to do other business also."

"Didn't I say right, that you were telling the story of the rats? To do all these things there is need of money...."

"Certainly, and with your dowry...."

"I have no dowry...."

"No? Oh, Giulia!"

"Oh, Titta!"

"Then the last word has been said between us.--Good-by.... You towards Jerusalem, I towards Egypt, as Arete said to Argante."

"But what, can't we get married without a dowry?"

"No, we cannot; the dowry, Giulia, is as it were the wedding-dress; without it matrimony would seem naked, and you can imagine how unbecoming it would be to perform such a solemn rite ill-dressed. And if we turn our thoughts to ancient times, we know that the Muses remained spinsters at home because Apollo could not afford any other dowry than laurel leaves...."

"But you would not make me believe that you have saved no money; what have you done with it?"

"All gone in pious works, Giulia, in works of charity; and my friends owe me a fortune. How can I help it? When I get money I cannot refuse them, and thus I find myself short oftener than I would wish.... However, they will repay me some time, but for the present we cannot count upon them...."

"Well, I cannot exactly say that I am penniless; but it is only a trifle...."

"Every sprig helps to make a bush; with work and good will we can raise the cupola of the cathedral. Now tell me how much have you saved? A thous ...?"

"A Hund...."

"Oh, Giulia!"

"About one hundred ducats...."

"Alas! they are not enough!"

Giulia shrugged her shoulders. Titta, after remaining thoughtful a while, continued:

"But one must never despair of one's country, as Themistocles said: if you will help me, there is a way to seize fortune by the hair. Listen attentively, woman.... You must know that the lord, my master, is a revengeful man...."

"All the worse for him...."

"A strange notion has got into his head: he thinks the discoveries of Columbus, Americus, Cabot, Pigafetta, and all others, but little compared to the wonderful one he is about to make. And not only that: he intends that all the world should know it, and we must help him in this discovery...."

"Oh, power of wine!"

"Woman, listen. This discovery consists in knowing that his wife is unfaithful to him. He has already received flying reports of it, but he wishes to know them certainly, and touch with his own hands, as the proverb says; then he will intrust this most beautiful affair to the seven trumpets of fame, and I rather think that he will have it published by Torrentino in octave rhymes.... Come nearer, for I wish to speak to you lower.--He, the Duke, has sent me on purpose to see how things stand, and to report them to him; and if I carry to him a certain proof of it, he has promised me three hundred ducats of reward, besides his everlasting protection, and many other favors...."

"Are you in earnest?"

"Tell me who is the Saint in whom you have the most faith; and I will swear by him. So by your telling me all you know, we shall gain this money, which together with your three hundred...."

"I said one hundred."

"One hundred then, with these three hundred, will be enough to accomplish our plan of marriage."

Then the treacherous deceitful woman began to relate all she knew (and she knew too much) in regard to her mistress, who had always been kind to her more than to any other servant; and she added many things of her own to make the matter worse; finally she reported, that listening, as she was accustomed to, at her mistress's door, she had learned that on the next day, early in the morning, she was to go to confess herself to Father Marcello of St. Francesco. Titta thought now that he knew a great deal more than he needed. The woman did not stop chattering; like the blind street-musician, who, as the proverb says:--"For a penny begins, and for two never ends playing."--Titta thinking that now it was of no use for him to watch any longer, abandoned himself to the arms of Morpheus, and the excited woman talked on before noticing that her future husband slept profoundly.

"Think what it will be after we are married!" she exclaimed; and spitefully giving him a push on the shoulder, retired to her own room to sleep.

* * * * *

The blast which Titta blew from his horn, awakened another person in the Orsini palace, and this was Troilo. He felt his heart beat with anguish: he rose from his bed into a sitting posture, and stood some time irresolute, and listening attentively to see whether he could guess from the movement of the people what had happened; and as all returned in a short time to its previous silence, he collected courage enough to dress, and descend cautiously to the Duchess's apartment.

"Come in," said Isabella with a firm and secure voice, when she heard the knock at her door: and Troilo entered. She, neither surprised nor fearful, turned her eyes upon him, and tranquilly resumed her former attitude. Troilo was the first to speak:

"Isabella, are you aware that Paolo Giordano is about to return to Florence?" ...

"I know it."

"How do you know it?"

"By letters which he sent me, and in which he said that he would be at home in a few days...."

"And did you read nothing else in these letters?"

"Nothing else...."

"Indeed! yet I know that there was written other news, or at least you should have read it there."

"What?"

"That on the arrival of Paolo Giordano you will die by his hand."

"Let God dispose of me as it pleases Him. Troilo, I am prepared to die...."

"What do you say? You have an entire world to travel before you: full of strength, of power, of beauty, how can you consent to leave a scene where you sustain your part so well! When the fruit is green, it should not be shaken from the tree of life. And perhaps you never had a better time than this to enjoy reasonably human gifts, for you are neither too inexperienced to allow yourself to be carried away by the illusions of youth, nor too hesitating, on account of the weakness of declining years. Behold, the season to gather the fruits of experience is just beginning for you...."

"I am old, very old at heart, and love death more than I ever loved a living being...."

"But you outrage Divine Providence, and yourself. Don't give way to such sad dejection; you may repent it, when perhaps too late. Come, courage; cheer up your spirit, for God's sake!..."

Isabella turned her head, and fixing her eyes for some time on Troilo, added:

"Thanks! Keep your courage to yourself; I have enough of it. Troilo, if it was not a firm deliberation of my mind to remain here, do you think that I could not devise some means to go away? No; escaping, I would show to the world my shame; I would make manifest that which is uncertain, or what very few people know; fear would say more than guilt, and would increase the necessity of revenge. And besides, in what place can I hide myself where the poniard, the snare, or the poison of the assassin could not reach me? And when even I could find a place capable of protecting me, who could protect me against the disdainful manner with which men give help, like crusts of bread thrown to a beggar? Who could protect me against the bitter and incessant reproaches which would be hurled against me, not because guilty, but because I made public this guilt? Who could protect me against that pity which gnaws one's bones, and that compassion which poisons the blood? Who could protect me against the proud contempt, the bitter smiles, the respectful sneers? Oh, the thought alone chills my very soul! No, it is better to die with one blow than be thus cruelly murdered under this martyrdom renewed from day to day, or rather from hour to hour, from minute to minute. Prometheus certainly did not choose life on condition that his bowels should be devoured by the insatiable vulture."

"Your despair, Isabella, comes from not having been able to imagine any other remedy but flight: there are other means of escape...."

"I see none...."

"And surer ones...."

"If such ones that could surely save my honour!..."

"Be assured that there can be none more safe.... Paolo Giordano desires our death; this is most certain. Now, as we cannot remain in this world together--since one of us must choose a different abode, let _him_ go who wishes to expel us; not ourselves, who would have willingly tolerated him in this world...."

"And thus you would add homicide to shame. And to amend one crime commit another, which is more offensive to men and God?"

"The one is the offspring of the other; and necessity excuses us; for what precept or what law imposes on us the duty of respecting a life which has changed into a poniard to take our own? Let us heed the dictates of nature, a most merciful mother, who never fails; and she will say to you that between killing and being killed, it is best to kill...."

"You strike me with horror."

"And why?"

"Because, if I question my heart, a voice cries to me:--What precept or what law ever allows us to punish him who did not commit the crime? What justice ever taught us to make a victim, because we committed a crime? No, laws are never perverted thus, neither in this world nor the next...."

"Of the next world we will think by-and-by; for the present let us think of this. Isabella, you must have learned from your father the secret of concocting some beverage sweet to the taste, which puts one quietly asleep ... never to wake again...."

"Ah, wretched man! Would you renew the horrors of the family of Atreus?..."

"No, I do not intend to begin anything new, I only wish you to continue in the practice of domestic examples...."

Isabella bent her head; then raising and tossing it with a scornful look, replied resolutely:

"No, this crime shall not contaminate the pages of history; our family shall not have its Clytemnestra, and if you design such a wretched attempt against the life of your cousin, beware! I will defend him with all my powers, even with my own life...."

"Isabella, you cannot separate your fate from mine: love bound us willingly together for a short time; crime binds us unwillingly with an indissoluble tie...."

"These are the ties of cowards; I am not afraid, and I break them...."

"I know well enough that you are not afraid, but I know too well also in what you trust.... You have hopes in pardon; you put faith in your cunning words, in your art of dissimulating, in the pleasures of your caresses.... Yes, wretched woman, you trust to your arts, and if, in order to secure your peace and safety, a sacrifice and a victim is wanted, behold, my head is destined for the expiation of all...."

"Then fly, save yourself elsewhere. Have you need of means? I can give you all you desire--take all which I have in money and jewels--for the journey which I am about to take, money is of no use."

"If you fear assassins, you, a cousin of Catherine of France, how can I save myself from them--I, without any protection? If you are saddened by the thought of receiving insufficient, feeble, and even bitter help, how can I hope to have it abundant, efficacious, or agreeable? It is in vain for you to pretend generosity when it is of no avail, and advise plans which are not safe. I see no other way here but poison...."

"And I swear to you, upon my word, that Giordano shall live...."

"No, you must poison him...."

"If you did not excite my compassion, you would certainly excite my scorn...."

"Indeed? Then listen. We have a son. I already foresaw your treacherous obstinacy. You had better remove this shadow of repentance, shameless woman! and know that you will not wash out your stains with my blood!--We have a child: I have already sent for him, and if you do not consent to save me--and save yourself also, I will throw it murdered into your arms before morning.--When Giordano is dead we can marry, not because we can ever love each other; for, if you hate me, it is well that you should know also that I hate you no less; but to appease the impudent pride of your haughty brothers, who dare to think there is no nobility in the world equal to their own, who were merchants yesterday, and now threaten our lives.... You may willingly reside far from me, as I, with all my heart, swear that I will go thousands of miles from you...."

While Troilo with fierce passion was proffering these words, Isabella showed from time to time signs of impatience, rage, and intense desire to retort against the villanous knight; but with great effort she repressed her words, and when he finished, feigning in her aspect and voice a calmness which she was certainly far from feeling, replied:

"You are an excellent and affectionate father indeed, who calls to mind his children only to murder them! Troilo, the heart of a woman may err, and be deceived when she is in love, but it is not deceived, nor does it err when she becomes a mother. You rely in vain on your cruel designs: your child is now where he has no fear of your paternal caresses...."

"Even my child you have taken from me?"

"And dare you to complain that I have saved him from your parricidal hands?"

"Restore me my child!--Restore me my child! Or I will tear your heart out...."

"Strike!..." And Isabella, pale as death, but yet calm, opened her arms, and offered her breast to him. Troilo stood thoughtful awhile, and then murmured:

"What is her death to me? I wish to live...."

And he replaced his dagger. Then suddenly, as a sail blown by a strong wind falls at its cessation flapping against the mast, so his coward heart, entirely deprived of constancy, was cowed down; a sudden and great change worked within him, and from bold he became humble. Then with downcast eyes and low voice, turning to Isabella a face which he endeavored to render suppliant, but was abject, resumed:

"Ah! Isabella; forget, I beg you, all that passion poured from my lips: when the blood rises to the head, man knows not what he says or does; if you only will it so (the heaven having granted you such great gifts of persuasion, beauty, and grace) Paolo Giordano will not imbrue his hands in your blood. Ah! in obtaining your pardon, obtain mine also; or if, wary as you are, you see that it would be of use to deny, deny; do not doubt of my discretion, for it is a great stake; at a suitable time, with your help, I will take leave of this fatal house, and return to the army, where by this time I might have acquired a distinguished name and rank. Promise me, Isabella. Can I rely on you? Speak, oh, speak! Do not leave me thus upon thorns: my soul is overcome with inexpressible grief; remember that I am the father of your child...."

"It would have been better not to remind me of it, Orsini; indeed it would have been better. Nevertheless, in the same manner in which I would have defended Paolo Giordano, I shall defend you. Certainly I will not tell falsehoods, but if the guilt can be excused, I will certainly do it for all our sakes; and if God gives me life, I will endeavor to obtain, if not pardon, mercy. There can never be happiness for me again in this world; yet I shall deem myself less unhappy, knowing you prosperous. Now go, Troilo; I have need of peace...."

And Troilo, bowing his head, with his arms folded upon his breast, departed.

Isabella followed him with her eyes, and held them fixed a long time at the door from whence he had gone out: suddenly, striking the palm of her hand upon her forehead, she exclaimed:

"Alas! alas! for what a man have I lost the honor of a woman, the dignity of a princess, and my own salvation!..."

* * * * *

It was a clear and serene night in July; the stars revolved in their celestial spheres, pouring a dew of light upon this earth, which does not deserve such smiles of love. The times, places, things, and men, which you saw then, ye pure rays of light, have returned dying from whence they had sprung before their birth: many and many more men and centuries shall you see; but will that light which emanated from you last for ever, or, like all other fires, will it be extinguished? It is written, that one day God will shatter into atoms, never again to meet, this mass of bloody clay which we call earth; and it will be well, for we almost wish that it had already happened: but it is also written, that your loving eyes shall be extinguished, and God will close your eyelids like maidens dead in the midst of the joys of life. The voice of the Eternal, like unto the roaring of a thousand oceans in the storm, will return to peal throughout the endless solitude of darkness and abyss. Of so immense a variety of created things there will not remain an echo, nor a memory, nor even a shadow;--as the eye seeks, and finds not the drop fallen into the sea; as the eye seeks, and finds not the star which falls from the firmament in summer nights; so time will be hurled into the depth of eternity;--this terrible mother will smother her child pressed in her arms, and will bury him in her bosom. Oh, Lord! How can man, thinking on the death of the stars, foster evil designs in his heart? Thousands of ages will pass away before the stars will cease to proclaim in the heavens the glories of God;--and thousands of ages before this shall happen, this body of mine, separated into innumerable particles, will be laid waste through the kingdoms of nature. Nevertheless, thinking that one day you must perish also, beautiful lights of love, my spirit is disheartened, and it seems an almost impossible thing to conceive, how men, creatures of a moment, meeting upon this earth which passes away with them, instead of raising their hands in enmity against each other, should not exchange friendly greetings, and disappear into eternity;--a light shadow fleeting away, but at least a happy one.

On such a night, a man creeping like a snake, his body shrinking, grazing the walls, hiding himself in the thickest darkness, and raising his head sometimes to imprecate the distant ray with which the stars smiled upon this miserable earth, hastened towards a certain place. This place was the convent of Santa Croce. Arriving at the gate of the cloister, he pulled the bell-rope softly, restraining the ardent desire he felt to give it so strong a pull as to awaken the whole convent: he stood listening through the cracks of the door, and as he heard no one moving, he rang again: and he repeated it thus four or six times, and was beginning to lose all patience, when he thought he heard footsteps approaching; he then, assuming a devotional attitude, stood waiting composedly. A bold hand opened the door deliberately: and, considering the times, it was not a little boldness, for they lived in such suspicion then, that to open at such a late hour would have required many signs and explanations, as is the custom in a besieged fortress; at the same time a bold yet pleasing voice said:

"_Deo gratias_: what do you desire in the holy name of God...."

"Reverend Father," replied the unknown, "God at this moment is calling to Himself a great sinner. As all knots come to the comb, thus in this hour return to his mind all his crimes committed, and he despairs of the Divine mercy, curses the day and hour in which he was born, and is running the imminent danger of dying unrepentant...."

"Unhappy he, because he has sinned; more unhappy still, because he despairs of the Lord's mercy!..."

"Indeed I tried to persuade him that it was so; but as I am ignorant of divinity, I saw that my words had but little effect: nevertheless, I did not cease praying with him, and strove to console him by saying--that at last all would be settled rightly, and that God, who is old, has seen so many and many crimes, that now He cannot be so very particular about them, and that a good repentance, but of the real kind, would wash out more sins than perhaps his own...."

"Certainly, the power of repentance is very great, and God as a good shepherd labors principally after the lost sheep."

"But the dying man said:--Who would dare to present my soul to God, without fearing that He would cover His eyes with His hands? Who will utter for me one prayer, without fearing the gates of heaven will be closed in his face? Only one ... only one just man I know in the world, who could inspire me with a hope of faith ... but it is too late ... he would not come ... at this hour he is refreshing with a short rest his limbs worn out in the service of God.... Alas, it is too late!--And uttering piteous cries, he tossed raving upon the bed. Finally, I succeeded with pain to extract from his mouth the name of this venerable man, who it cannot be denied is a most holy and learned one, for he is the Reverend Father Marcello, whom may God always keep prosperous and happy.--And although it was a late hour, yet I thought best for me to come for him, hoping the grace may be granted me of contributing towards the salvation of a sinful Christian...."

As the monk stood thoughtful, and did not reply, the man continued, making studied pauses between one word and another:

"Besides, as the dying man is immensely rich, and a great merchant, nor having, that I know, any children, or relatives, except very distant ones, I thought he might leave large sums of money to be expended in pious works, alms, funerals, and so forth...."

The friar, however, had not paid any attention to the final argument of this man: but suddenly, as if recollecting himself, said:

"We can die but once after all; and the best death is certainly that which we meet in the service of God. This life of suspicion seems a continual death. Good man, you in the simplicity of your heart gave advice like the most learned of the Fathers of the Church. God gave equal remuneration to the workmen who came early, as to the others who came towards evening to his vineyard. Charity does not look at the watch; and the brightest hour for her is that in which she is able to bring more aid to the poor afflicted people. Charity done in the dark of night is that which is more clear to the eye of God. The house of the Lord is never empty: knock, and it shall be opened to you: the fountain of heavenly mercy never fails: ask, and it shall be given you to drink;--the blood of our Redeemer pours an everlasting ablution for repentant and humble souls.--Indeed, the times are full of danger, and invisible hands strike at the ministers of the gospel. Religion is now groaning over the blood of the martyrs, which is drenching the earth without bearing fruits. And there are those who wish Religion as a servant, or rather accomplice, and presume to put on her their livery; to substitute on the stole their coat-of-arms instead of the Cross, and enrol her as a man-at-arms. May God avert such infamy! Religion has the mission of interposing between the oppressed and the oppressor, to save the former beneath the folds of her sacred mantle, to look on the face of the latter, to hurl the anathema against him, and drag him by the hair before a tribunal where he is but dust.... But this city has stoned its prophets;--the angels wept when they saw Friar Girolamo Savonarola burned by the people, and a lamentation was heard through the heaven, saying: Oh, Lord, oh, Lord! Has the end of the world come?--Like the services of the Holy Week at the end of each psalm they extinguish a light; and when they are all out, there is darkness, and how horrible!--You might deceive me: Judas betrayed Christ, kissing him; but I had rather be betrayed once, than suspect all my life.... Go on, good man; I will follow you...."

"What, is it you?..."

"I am Father Marcello. The others sleep, but to me the Lord said:--Watch, for your life will be short, and you will soon sleep your last sleep in the grave. Prayer is my bride, preaching my sister, tears my pleasure...."

And shutting the door behind him, he followed the steps of the unknown man.

The unknown, who (since I do not wish to keep my readers in suspense) was Titta, walked with his eyes on the ground, and took tottering steps like one strongly excited by some passion; and it was so. He, who had spent so many years of his life in doing evil, now, in a short space of a few hours, saw fortune place before him two generous souls, that of Cecchino, and Father Marcello's; so that when he least expected it, a doubt arose in his mind, which perhaps had continually escaped him all his lifetime: and without understanding it, their dignity seemed to him a wonderful fact. Besides, that ready and spontaneous trusting in him, so little worthy of trust; the honest boldness which springs from feeling ourselves innocent; the forgetfulness or contempt of any danger when there was a case of doing a work of charity, agitated him with such new and deep sentiments, that he could not account for them. What, without seeming at all impossible, will appear wonderful to the subtle scrutinizers of human nature, was, that while he proceeded with the full deliberation of accomplishing his planned snare against the poor friar, he begged his guardian angel that he might prevent him, and sought in the bottom of his heart the trace of some virtue, which would serve him as an anchor, in which he might trust in order to save himself from shipwreck.

Father Marcello, although ignorant of the streets of Florence, yet perceived that he had made him cross the same street twice; he therefore touched his conductor lightly upon the shoulders, saying:

"Brother, mind the road."

"Ah! You are right; I had got so absorbed in my own thoughts, that if you had not roused me, I know not when I should have come to my senses again; and in order that it may not happen again, be kind enough to reply to some doubts which I have in my mind. Now, Father, tell me, where do you think we shall be carried with all these contentions about Religion?"

"It would be too long a subject to discuss; but I have faith that it will lead to good. For my part I believe Luther is a Cerberus, who barks because they do not throw him the bone: but he bit the leaves, not the root; he tore the fringe, but not the cloth. He is as tiresome as a criticism, and lasts only because the fault lasts: if the Church only purify herself in the mystic waters, Luther and all the renovators would at once fail. Already they do not agree among themselves in building the new Babel; the ancient miracle of the confusion of tongues is again commencing, they all run through paths where there is no exit. These troubles will pass, but before they pass, I fear a great many other new ones will be added: when the human intellect has rebelled against authority, it must wear itself out in the path of proud reasonings. Imagining that superstitions and errors are the necessary evils of religion, they will all join together to destroy them; and I foresee these to be days full of sorrow: I foresee again renewed the vinegar and gall, the thorns, the blows, the nails, and the spear-wound of Christ; I see doubt as a wind coming from the desert withering the harvest of Faith, Charity, and Hope. But since man cannot reach the celestial seats with the simple light of reason, he will stand appalled in contemplating in the heaven an abyss like hell, and shall feel again the need of a God, who may have had grief, love, and feelings of humanity, and will seek Christ again, who, as it is said He did with St. Francis, will unloose his arms from the cross to embrace him. Thus, religion becoming again the bridesmaid of human souls, after having espoused them in this world with the ties of love, will direct them towards the eternal home to which we all aspire, which is in heaven."

"These seem to me things that may happen some time or other at the last judgment. Let us leave heaven, for, as you say, it would be a long discourse; but of this earth, of this which we call our country, this Florence, this Italy, what do you think?"

"My son, she is dead; no, not dead ... the sleep which oppresses her has the appearance of death ... but this sleep is so heavy that it seems to me that without a miracle of God she can never awake again. Know, know, my son, that oppressors cannot tyrannize, if the oppressed do not consent to be tyrannized over; nor does the difficulty consist in taking away the tyrant, but in the virtue of the citizens in maintaining themselves in freedom and honest fellowship. This city, at the time of the death of Alexander, showed how a people can remain slaves, although the tyrant be dead; and this is what regards national independence: as to foreign independence, God is strong, and takes part with the strong. These foolish people think to get rid of Spain by means of France, of France by means of Spain, and they stretch their hands humbly now to the latter, now to the former, those hands which should have been armed to threaten and to strike both of them.--_Out with the barbarians!_ cried the glorious Pontiff Julius II.; and the barbarians were all those who were not born in Italy. Oh, foolish people! who believe that the chivalry of Spain or France are going to leave their splendid castles, their wives and children, encounter the perils of the sea, climb over the precipitous summits of the mountains, and come in your country merely to fight a tournament, and give the reward of it to you lazy men, who stand looking on. Oh, fools! the people who know not how to defend the home which nature has given them, are not worthy of possessing it: the world belongs to those who take it; thus has the law of destiny decreed. Louis XI. made France a united and strong kingdom; Charles V. had the same idea with regard to Germany and Spain. The over-rated Lorenzo dei Medici, what did he accomplish? With jugglers' tricks he kept in discordant equilibrium the remnant of a people. It was not a monument, but a pasteboard statue; and the first wind that blew from the Alps overturned it: Charles VIII. rode over Italy with wooden spurs. Now we are broken into fragments. The Italian people stood watching the death of the Florentine Republic like a fighting gladiator: at her glorious death all applauded, no one helped her; and falling, the Republic wrote with its blood upon the arena a cruel sentence, and which shall come to pass: You also will fall, but infamously. Venice believes herself seated upon a throne, but she is sitting instead upon the grave which shall cover her. Genoa, like the swallow having made its nest in a lofty place, imagines itself secure, and does not think of the hunter's arrow, that reaches even to the clouds ... I breathe an air of tombs, I trample an earth of churchyard...."

"Then, Father, if it is so, allow me to quote a passage, written some hundred and more years ago by a worthy priest and canon of the Church, who had more brains than a thousand such as I, which said:

O fools and blind, to labor night and day,
In fruitless toil, when soon around our clay
Our mother's cold embraces shall be thrown,
Our deeds forgotten, and our names unknown![47]

"Mark, however: first, heaven has not granted me the gift of prophecy, and as I may perchance be mistaken, thus it behooves us to do what is right without giving ourselves the thought of what may happen; secondly, that I once heard from my teacher, that a God and a people, although dead, cannot long remain within the sepulchre; and in truth, our Saviour only remained in it three days. The days of the people are indeed centuries; but men pass away like shadows, humanity remains. Every good seed brings forth good fruit before God, and at its proper time will sprout to enliven the earth; if we shall not eat of it, let us save it, for our children shall. Thirdly, I told you that I deemed her not dead, but oppressed by mortal lethargy. It would avail me nothing, and in truth I hate to spend the life which God has granted me in sculpturing a splendid marble tomb, to place within it the corpse of Italy, and then deck myself in majestic funeral clothes, light candles upon golden candlesticks, fill the censers with perfumes, and chant with divine notes the prayers for the dead. This I hate, although I see it done, with infinite bitterness to my soul, by men of noble talents but feeble hearts.... Have you ever heard about Queen Joanna, the mother of Charles V.? When her husband Philip, whom she loved so much, died, she would not allow him to be buried, but had him embalmed, and placed him upon a rich bed of black velvet, and as long as she lived she sat at his side, watching from time to time if he would not awake: this was charity and insanity. I imitate this charitable example wisely, since I do not consider our country dead, but as if asleep by enchantment; and I watch her day and night, uttering over her the words of love, but oftener still of grief and anger; at times with reviving salts, or other stimulants, I endeavor to recall her to life; at other times I thrust my hands in her hair, or put to her lips a living coal as God gave to Isaiah, or I pierce her flesh near the heart to see if from thence gushes out living blood. Indeed ... indeed, so far my words have been in vain, and entire locks of her hair have remained in my hands.... But if when about to awaken, these words of anger, grief, and love, these deeds of charity or disdain should be able to break this lethargy from her head for one moment, or even a second before the time fixed by fate, would not my life, the lives of a hundred citizens be well spent?"

[47]

O ciechi: il tanto affaticar che giova?
Tutti torniamo alla gran madre antica,
E il nome vostro appena si ritrova.--PETRARCA.

"This friar's brains," thought Titta to himself, "seem to me like a windmill; but even such mills, when the weather is propitious, grind grain, and well too. To get rid of all this talk, there is no other way but to pull the hood over his mouth;--and yet he seems to me a great and noble soul; Aretino was not worthy of tying his shoes. However, there is no longer time to change my mind, and I must leave the moth-eaten beam for fear the house should fall.... Here we are at the place!... Truly, I commit a great treachery; but thrown upon the heap of my other bad deeds, it will not increase the pile much. And besides, woe to him who shall dare to harm a hair of his head.... After all, it is no great thing; a few hours of seclusion, with the best comforts which one can desire.... And then I will ask his pardon, ... and he, as he is so very kind, no doubt will grant it to me."

Thus ruminating within himself, Titta perceived that they had reached the appointed place, which was the corner of the street Mandorlo; then, putting two fingers into his mouth, he gave a sharp whistle, and suddenly, without knowing whence they came, as if detaching themselves from the walls of the houses, four men appeared, who surrounded the friar. Father Marcello started, overcome by surprise, stretched his hand, and grasped strongly the arm of Titta, saying with an excited voice: