Volume Iii Part 7 (1/2)

'Holy father, you are right; and as I cannot come to church to make confession I have sent for you.'

'Yes; in the name of the Holy Father, and armed with his authority, I may hear confession and grant, to the truly penitent, absolution. The Apostle Peter had that power, he received it from the great Head of the Church; and our Popes-His true followers-have ever used that power for the cure of poor sinners, for the good of the Church, for the glory of His Blessed Name. We humble ministers hear private confessions. It is a sacred privilege, to be guarded jealously; but I know its value. I have seen how the weak and erring mortal who has confessed to his priest has had a heavy weight taken off his heart, has lost the cares and sorrows which were darkening and shortening his days, has gained joy and gladness as he thus realizes the Divine favour and feels certain that after the pangs of death are over we shall rescue him from the pains of purgatory, and he shall pa.s.s away to the mansions of the new Jerusalem, shall walk its golden streets, shall drink of its surpa.s.sing joys, shall join in its celestial harmonies, and take his stand with the great company of the elect gathered by the labours of the Holy Catholic Church out of every age and country under heaven. This is what we gain by means of the Ma.s.s, and yet the heretics scoff at the service and audaciously a.s.sert-in this respect only following the arch-heretic, Luther-that the Ma.s.s is simply a means for getting money out of the pockets of the people.'

'What awful blasphemy!' said the lady with a shudder, at the same time making the sign of the cross. 'Glad indeed was I to leave that horrid country. It is full of Free Catholics.'

'Free Catholics!' said the priest, in a tone of alarm. 'What can they be?'

'Alas, holy father! they are everywhere-in Paris, in Brussels, in London.

They are only Catholics in form, but not in heart. In fact, they are no better than Protestants.'

'Not exactly-if they keep up the forms of the Holy Church they are better than Protestants,' said the priest, 'who in denying the form deny the faith, as the holy Apostle says, and are worse than infidels. But, my daughter, time is wearing away.'

'Ah, truly, holy father, it is luncheon-time. Already I hear by the gong that it is served.'

The father knew the rules of the house, and timed his visit accordingly.

Soup, fowl, fish, with cut of roast lamb, a choice bottle of Italian wine-it won't bear transplanting, nor a sea voyage-a few grapes and green figs, with a cigarette and a demita.s.se of coffee, were not to be despised. He found alike his piety and his benevolence all the better for such a feast. The Countess kept a cook and a butler, and they were neither of them novices by any means. There has been good eating and drinking on the sh.o.r.es of the Bay of Naples, at any rate since the time of the Romans. Naples owes its fame, and probably its existence, to the superlative loveliness of its situation. As old Sam Rogers sang:

'Not a grove, Citron or pine or cedar: not a grot Seaward, and mantled with the gadding vine, But breathes enchantment;'

and thus it was that the _bon vivants_ of the old world loved the favoured spot-that Baiae was the Brighton of the Romans. Between it and Puteoli rolled the Lucrine Lake, over which skimmed the small yachts of fas.h.i.+onable visitors, while around were the oyster-beds for the luxurious tables of Rome. It was there Sergius Orata of blessed memory established the fine oyster-beds which have ever since been a model for all succeeding ages, and a name grateful in the ears of the epicure.

The lady and her guest had coffee served up in an adjoining apartment.

The lady lit up her cigarette, the gentleman did the same. It is wonderful how tobacco quickens the conversational powers. High-born dames, as well as Irish fish women, in this respect own the influence of the seductive weed.

'Ah, father,' said the Countess, 'you have known me long. I have confidence in you.'

'Yes; I have known madame long-friend of the good cause, a supporter of the true Church-liberal with her money and her time, strict in the observance of holy days. What would you, my daughter?'

'Ah, father,' said the lady with a sigh; 'it was not always so-I have lived.'

'Yes; many of us who now pose as saints can say as much,' said the holy father. 'What a blessed thing it is to be able to find out what is true life, what are true joys-the ecstasy of being lost in the Divine Being, of being waited on by angels, hasting to guide one the way to Paradise, of appealing to the sweet Virgin Mary, of having her as an intercessor night and day for our sins in the court of Heaven! Compared with these things, what are the pleasures of sense and sin-which are soon vanished, and always leave a sting behind?'

'Oh yes, father; I can feel and realize all this, but I am not happy. I am in great anxiety-I have a great weight on my mind. My medical man tells me to avoid excitement, that I suffer from disease of the heart, that any day I may have an attack which may be attended with fatal consequences.'

'Oh, dear madame, calm yourself. You look well-madame speaks and walks well. There is a.s.suredly little serious to contemplate. These doctors, who are they?-ignorant quacks who, for their own selfish ends, make us believe that we are on the way to death when in reality we are in the enjoyment of health and strength. Remember how, in a cholera year, Death met the Devil as he was on his way to Vienna. ”I shall slay twenty thousand people,” said Death. In a day or two they met again. ”Ah!”

said the Devil, ”only ten thousand died of cholera.” ”Ah,” said Death, ”that is true.” ”How, then,” asked the Devil, ”did you make up your number?” ”Easy enough,” was the reply; ”ten thousand were killed by the cholera and the other ten died of fright!” Ah, these doctors, they do a lot of mischief! They are also, I fear, men of science-that is, men of no religion. It is dangerous for one's soul to have them about us. It is the priest, your ladys.h.i.+p, who is the true friend of all in sickness or adversity, or doubt or sorrow.'

'Oh, father, I believe you. And now to business.'

'With all my heart.'

'There is no one who is likely to overhear us?'

'None. The house is silent as the grave,' of which it really reminded one with its funereal embellishments, its ghastly pictures of saints and martyrs-the work of old masters they said, horrible to look on-and crucifixes of every kind. In some parts of Italy this show is supposed to indicate the possession of true piety, and that, like charity, covers a mult.i.tude of sins.

'Well, father, let me state a case in which I am interested.'

'I am all attention.'