Part 120 (2/2)
”You, father?”
”I; quite as great a sinner as thou; though not in the same way. The devil has gins and snares, as well as traps. But penitence softened my impious heart, and then grat.i.tude remoulded it. Therefore, seeing you penitent, I hope you can be grateful to Him, who has been more merciful to you than you have to your fellow-creature. Daughter, the Church sends you comfort.”
”Comfort to me? ah! never! unless it can raise my victim from the dead.”
”Take this crucifix in thy hand, fix thine eyes on it, and listen to me,” was all the reply.
”Yes, father; but let me thoroughly dry your feet first: 'tis ill sitting in wet feet: and you are the holiest man of all whose feet I have washed. I know it by your voice.”
”Woman, I am not. As for my feet, they can wait their turn. Obey thou me!”
”Yes, father,” said the lady, humbly. But with a woman's evasive pertinacity she wreathed one towel swiftly round the foot she was drying, and placed his other foot on the dry napkin; then obeyed his command.
And, as she bowed over the crucifix, the low, solemn, tones of the friar fell upon her ear, and his words soon made her whole body quiver with various emotions, in quick succession.
”My daughter, he you murdered--in intent--was one Gerard, a Hollander.
He loved a creature, as man should love none but their Redeemer and his Church. Heaven chastised him. A letter came to Rome. She was dead.”
”Poor Gerard! Poor Margaret!” moaned the penitent.
Clement's voice faltered at this a moment. But soon, by a strong effort, he recovered all his calmness.
”His feeble nature yielded, body and soul, to the blow. He was stricken down with fever. He revived only to rebel against Heaven. He said 'There is no G.o.d.'”
”Poor, poor, Gerard!”
”Poor Gerard? thou feeble, foolish woman! Nay, wicked, impious Gerard.
He plunged into vice, and soiled his eternal jewel: those you met him with were his daily companions: but know, rash creature, that the seeming woman you took to be his leman was but a boy, dressed in woman's habits to flout the others, a fair boy called Andrea. What that Andrea said to thee I know not; but be sure neither he, _nor any layman_, knows thy folly. This Gerard, rebel against Heaven, was no traitor to thee, unworthy.”
The lady moaned like one in bodily agony, and the crucifix began to tremble in her trembling hands.
”Courage!” said Clement. ”Comfort is at hand.
”From crime he fell into despair, and, bent on destroying his soul, he stood one night by Tiber, resolved on suicide. He saw one watching him.
It was a bravo.”
”Holy saints!”
”He begged the bravo to despatch him; he offered him all his money, to slay him body and soul. The bravo would not. Then this desperate sinner, not softened even by that refusal, flung himself into Tiber.”
”Ah!”
”And the a.s.sa.s.sin saved his life. Thou hadst chosen for the task Lodovico, husband of Teresa, whom this Gerard had saved at sea, her and her infant child.”
”He lives! he lives! he lives! I am faint.”
The friar took the crucifix from her hands, fearing it might fall. A shower of tears relieved her. The friar gave her time; then continued, calmly. ”Ay, he lives; thanks to thee and thy wickedness, guided to his eternal good by an almighty and all-merciful hand. Thou art his greatest earthly benefactor.”
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