﻿                              STORIES TOTO TOLD ME



                                       by


                                  BARON CORVO
                               (Frederick Rolfe)




                                   1895-1901



                      Scanned and Edited by Robert Bamford

                          Golden Gale Electronic Books
                                      1994

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                               PUBLISHING HISTORY

All these stories were printed in the volume entitled "In His Own Image", in
1901.

The last six stories had been published previously in "The Yellow Book", in
1895-6.

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                      FURTHER INFORMATION ABOUT THE AUTHOR

REAL NAME: Frederick William Rolfe
BORN: 22 July 1860, London
DIED: 26 October 1913, Venice, aged 53
AGE WHEN THESE STORIES WRITTEN: Between 34 and 40

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                          HOW TO CONTACT THE PUBLISHER

By Internet email: rbamford@acslink.net.au
By post: P.O. Box 894, Sandy Bay, TAS 7006, Australia

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The following notice applies to this computer program:
Copyright 1995 Robert W. Bamford.

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                                   DIVO AMICO
                                DESIDERATISSIMO
                                     D*D*D*

                                   FRIDERICUS


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   Nè Dio, Suo Grazia, mi se mostra altrvoe,
     Più che 'n alcun leggiadro e mortal velo;
       E quel sol amo, perche 'n quel si specchia.

                                             Michelangelo Buonarroti. Sonn. LVJ.


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CONTENTS:

          Spring

          Summer

          Six Tales from the Yellow Book

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                "Hic est quem legis,
                 ille quem requiris."
                                      MART.

                                     SPRING

           "Primavera, gioventu dell' anno:
            Gioventu, primavera della vita."

I

ABOUT THE FANTASTICAL FRA GUILHELMO OF THE CAPPUCCINI

I SAID that, at sunset, Toto would drive me to Rome; for I intended to hear mass
at San Giorgio ad Velum Aureum in the morning, being the festival of England's
Protector Regni.
   Toto conveyed the news to my boys in this form,──that la sua eccellenza was
going to adore Sangiorgio in Rome, on the morrow, he being the god who looked
after my magnificent country; and to Guido and Ercole was given the charge of
decorating the breakfast-table with English roses, ready for my return.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   We started after Ave Maria. This boy fancied himself immensely, when
officiating in an English dog-cart; and he looked divinely smart in dark blue,
makroskeles, with tan gaiters buttoned. That kind of blue, with Toto's kind of
brown, is fine. I learned the blend of him.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   On the main road I espied a significant cappuccino trudging along before us.
Coming up to him, I recognised Frat' Agostino, and I asked for the pleasure of
giving him a lift. He said he would ride as far as L'Arricia; so I took the
reins, and Toto bundled him into the machine, afterwards climbing up behind,
supercilious, and nostrils quivering. He did not admire cappuccini; and he
loathed this one, whom he held to be a sneak of sneaks for getting him into
trouble about a certain baggage called Fiammina. (She was all that!) I don't
blame Toto much. I cannot. For, wherever we went, a parcel of hussies buzzed
about him, like hornets round honey; and Toto was a human being,──a fact which
it is sometimes difficult to believe. But the circumstances of this particular
affair drew from me a flagellation so sound and solemn (all anglican rites being
duly observed) as to impress Frat' Agostino, who was present on the occasion in
an official capacity, with the notion that we English regarded the function as
possessing something of a sacramental nature──indeed, he spoke afterwards of the
twig as the outward and visible vehicle of inward invisible grace!
Heptakaideketes took the thrashing in his habitual sweet-tempered way, and bore
me no malice for shedding his blood. He said that he knew himself to have been
wrong; anyone could see that with half an eye: and, if he escaped punishment, he
would become a sinner of vast dimensions as time went on; and then there would
be flaming divels to whip him in sæcula. It was far better as I made it.
Naturally, he preferred to be flayed by me, because I was his patron who wished
him well into the bargain, and never disgraced him before the youngsters. But
Frat' Agostino──well, he was cappuccino,──antipaticissimo──and that was all
about that!
   This friar was an anaemic little creature, with a black beard, hollow chops,
gorgonzola-coloured fangs, a carrion breath, and a voice of brass. After roaring
the customary compliments, he began to cover the floor of my dog-cart in a
phthisical manner and to give me the news of the day. He said that he had been
the round of his patrons with a few salads from his garden; and, producing a
green and frowsy crumple from his bosom, he begged my acceptance of it, adding
that the larder of his convent was empty. At once, I made the customary
offering.
   There is a part of the road between Velletrj and Rome, where you turn up to
Città Lavinia, which is said to be haunted by the horrible apparition of a coach
with headless driver and headless steeds. While passing the spot, I inquired
whether Frat' Agostino had ever seen this spectre. He replied that he had not:
and, bitten with an itch of inane modernity, he tried to raise himself in the
regard of what he called a fashionable young man (meaning me), by uttering
ordinary ignorant scoffs at supernatural exhibitions.
   "But, fraticello," I said; "Fra Guilhelmo of your own convent has seen the
grisly thing, and told me of it with his proper lips not two weeks ago. He
described it with minutest detail, also his glorious triumph over his tremors;
and I always believe everything that a priest tells me, on principle, you know."
   "Oh!──Fra Guilhelmo!"──the cappuccino chuckled; "but we never believe him!
Why, he's the most fantastical liar, and the butt of our community! Haw-haw!
When I leave you, ask Toto to tell you about Fra Guilhelmo and the earthquake. I
myself, on that subject, had better hold my peace, lest I sin against charity;
but, for Toto, it is another matter. (Squawk!)"
   When we reached the shrine of Madonna, on the right, before entering
L'Arricia, Frat' Agostino blessed us, and alighted, giving thanks for his ride.
Toto offered up the stale salad at the shrine, pushing it through the grating;
and he climbed into the cart with the charming reflection that some poor old
biddy might be glad to think that Madonna had sent her a supper. As we passed
the church on the left, he asked leave to go in, to say five Ave Marias, because
he felt as though he really needed them.
   After leaving Albano, we drove silently for some distance across the still
Campagna. The sun had set in a conflagration of yellow and violet and yellow;
and now the moon arose, majestick, magical, a monstrous pearl afloat on an olive
and primrose sea. It was a moment of romance. I felt that the slow recitative of
Toto's admirable counter-tenor would provide a backbone for my emotions.
   I said, "Break silence, Toto;" and I rolled a cigarette. I was about to
enjoy.
   The lad looked straight between the ears of Amfitrite. (Amfitrite is the
white mare.)
   "In obedience to the command of Frat' Agostino of the Cappuccini, I will
recite the history of Fra Guilhelmo of the same convent.
   "La sua eccellenza will remember the little earthquake which happened here,
very early in the morning, a few weeks ago; and of course you know that
earthquakes have sharp edges. I mean, the earth will quake on this side of the
road, but not on that. I mean, that they do not happen all over the world at the
same time. Here, the ground will shake: there, no. It has an edge I say, this
earthquake; and la sua eccellenza will know exactly what is necessary to be
understood. Well, then! This earthquake had a sharp edge: and, as it moved along
under the convent of cappuccini, the edge was in the middle; that is to say, the
building, which contains the cells of the frati, was shaken very sharply, but
the quire of the church, which is at the other end, was not shaken at all.
   "It was six o'clock in the morning, when the Padre Eterno remembered that Fra
Guilhelmo deserved a good shaking; and, at that moment, the friar sat at the
table in his cell, writing the lecture which he was to read before his novices
that same day; for, you know, he is the novice-master, and blessed am I who am
not one of his novices. His crucifix hung upon the wall before him; and Fra
Guilhelmo, having had his eyes made badly by his parents, pored over his writing
with his head close to the Feet of Il Santissimo Salvatore. You have seen Fra
Guilhelmo, sir?
   "The other frati were singing office in the quire; a few novices had been
left to sweep the stairs; and, just as two of these had reached the door of Fra
Guilhelmo, suddenly Domeniddio shook the ground.
   "The crucifix, of which I told you, swang outward from the wall: Fra
Guilhelmo felt a sort of heave, and took a tap on the forehead at the same time.
As he started, and raised his head, again the earth quivered, and the crucifix
swang towards him, as before.
   "Fra Guilhelmo became a jelly. He leaped to his feet. He was mad with terror.
But, in an instant, he had a tale all ready and complete. He can always explain.
No; I do not know who provides his explanations. Not his angel-guardian: and of
that I am most sure: but never yet has Fra Guilhelmo been caught ignorant of
causes. Ah well! Out he pranced into the corridor, putting on his spectacles,
his heart fat with fright; and behold two fearful novices standing close by a
window, as any decent person would be standing during an earthquake.<Note>
   "Fra Guilhelmo remembered that much is due to the dignity of a novice-master;
and, approaching the lads with a majestick air, he said, `Rejoice, rejoice, my
children; for I have just spat upon and defied Sathanas, who assaulted me, being
enraged at the damage which I shall do him with my lecture this forenoon.' Then
he made them enter his cell, continuing, `Mark well, my children, what I say,
that you may learn to withstand the fiery darts of the Wicked One, as I have
done this day, by the Grace of God, the intercession of La Sua Madre Immacolata,
and the assistance of Beato Fra Francesco' (who has no more to do with
cappuccini, sir, than has Amfitrite, except, perhaps, to weep over them). The
friar went further. `I was sitting on my stool, preparing my lecture; and I had
just written down a spiritual maxim which, when exemplified in the spirit of
holy obedience, by you, my children, for whose edification it is intended, will
form an effectual defence against the attacks with which the foul fiend our
enemy ravages the citadel of your chastity. Enraged at this impregnable bulwark
erected by me, between your young souls and his infernal onset, Sathanas rushed
from the bowels of the earth up the inside of my wall; and, amid sparks of fire
and the crackle of thunder, he dashed my crucifix into my face, intending to
spill my brains over my writing, so spoiling my lecture: and this I have seen
him do twice.'
   "Don't laugh, sir! Keep it in, till I have told you about the novices.
   "Those miserables were frightened out of their wits; for, indeed, Fra
Guilhelmo can be most terrifying. One stood speechless, staring at the crucifix.
The other took him by the ear, putting him outside the door, still frozen with
horror: then, returning, all in a moment, he kneeled down by Fra Guilhelmo; and,
beginning Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti, without any more ado, he made a general
confession of all the sins which he had ever committed, from the creation of the
world until the end of time. While this went on, the other novice recovered his
senses, and made several attempts to enter the cell, wishing also to confess;
and confess he did, as soon as the first was shriven.
   "Not till then was Fra Guilhelmo free to publish his exploit; but the other
frati, having been in the quire where the earthquake did not pass, and also,
having had some experience of Fra Guilhelmo's improvisations, laughed at him,
and were inclined to scoff; indeed, the Fra Guardiano talked about giving him a
penance for gammoning his brethren with childish fables, and called him a cock-
brained beast. But when Fra Guilhelmo brought the two novices to swear that they
had felt the convent shaken by Sathanas his rage, this Guardiano, who is the
hard mean vulgar bit of dirt called Fra Sebastiano, began to think that he might
be doing an injustice to Fra Guilhelmo. But several masses were waiting to be
said, and there was no time for many words just then.
   "However, when that Fra Guardiano had finished his duty at the altar of
Santantonio, the widow of the son of Ricardo stopped him to inquire whether any
damage had been done to the convent by the earthquake which, she said, had
tossed her out of her bed just in time for mass.
   "And so the mystery of the conflicts between Sathanas and Fra Guilhelmo was
laid bare, to the amusement of the peoples, the nations, and the tongues."
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IJ

ABOUT THE HOLY DUCHESS AND THE WICKED KING

HERE Toto drew up at a lonely place where the road was rather narrow. The sky
was of that dark luciferous blue, cold, vast, profound, spangled with pale
stars, which you can only get on the Roman Campagna, late in spring. It was
chilly, and I asked Toto why he stayed.
   "But, sir, don't you know that this is the place where la santa signora
duchessa, * requiescat in pace, refused a salutation to the Wicked King.
   "Bomba was his name, a fiend from hell, stained red with women's blood and
gangrened with the salt of tortured murdered children's tears. Yet he was the
friend of Papa Ferretti, and it is hard to understand why the Santo Padre should
have a were-wolf for His friend.
   "In the war-time my father often drove la santa signora duchessa along this
very road, for there was no iron road then; and often they met that king coming
to his camp from Rome.
   "When my father saw the royal outriders he would draw up the carriage at the
roadside and bare his head; and if there were any gentlemen in the carriage with
la santa donna, her husband, or her sons, they would alight, and stand, holding
their hats in their hands until that king had passed. But la santa signora
duchessa was proud and brave, and she never let it be supposed that she was
aware of any kings passing along that road, for she glanced high, and her face
was as hard as though it were cut in cameo.
   "That fiend marked her beauty and her haughtiness, and one day, at this very
place, he stopped his chariot, and he bowed to la santa donna looking straight
in her face. She did not move an eyelash.
   "Then that king stood up in his chariot, and bowed to her a second time,
holding his hat in his hand.
   "Sir, then, la santa signora duchessa, looking disdainfully into his very
eyes, put up her parasol, and held it between her holy face and the face of the
wicked king.
   "And Bomba went green with rage. He cursed his coachman for stopping, though
he himself had ordered so. And he flung back on his cushions and was driven
away.
   "My father always stopped here, after that, to say his Gloria Patrj twelve
times in honour of a brave and noble lady who disdained a wicked king. But she
was English, as you know, sir, therefore she had no fear.
   "* May our Lord grant her that cool place for which she always yearned.
   "And, sir, I have said my Gloria Patrj twelve times while you were looking at
the stars."
   He chirruped to the mare, and on we flew.
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IIJ

ABOUT THE CHEEK OF FRA SEBASTIANO OF THE CAPPUCCINI

"YOU do not love cappuccini, Toto?" I said.
   "Well, sir, to tell the blind and naked truth, I prefer other Religions. Of
course there must be some good cappuccini, for there are always some good people
everywhere. I am sorry for them for being cappuccini; but it is not their fault;
for, more often than enough, one cannot help oneself. But it does surprise me
that there should be so many unenlightened persons collected together in this
one convent."
   I asked why he had called the Guardiano a hard mean vulgar bit of dirt?
   "For an exquisite reason, sir. Listen? Last summer, behold an artigiano who
came seeking work. You know that these cappuccini have a little hill behind
their convent, with the Via Crucis along a winding path; and at the summit, a
large Calvary of bronze, which, they pretend, can be seen from a distance of
fifteen miles.
   "The artigiano discovered this bronze to be rotting away, the surface having
been left without protection; and the damp air had bitten it with a kind of
rust, grey-green,──a very serious matter.
   "To the Fra Guardiano, he explained the damage, saying, that, for preserving
the piece, it would be necessary to clean off all the rust, using a very
virtuose lotion; and next, to polish the bronze till it shone like the nimbus of
San Michele Arcangiolo. Also, to keep it like that, he said it must be well
rubbed with an oily rag once a week until the consummation of the world. Lastly,
he offered to do the work with his own hands, asking, in return, for food and
lodging and spiritual direction as long as he should be employed by the convent;
but for no money, for he despised it; and, moreover, the work was a pious one
which would gain him the good graces of his angel-guardian; and, at the time, he
had the humour to amuse himself in that way.
   "The Fra Guardiano smelt advantage in the acceptance of this offer. He jumped
at it, and closed a bargain, telling the Signor Caio to collect his tools; also,
to come to the convent at Ave Maria of the next day, when he should be lodged in
the guest-house.
   "Early on the morning after, Fra Sebastiano came with impudence to this
artigiano, saying that he had been thinking, and he had remembered that there
were several strong novices in his convent who could do the work, supposing that
they knew the way: and this cappuccino with his face of brass was not ashamed to
ask the Signor Caio for the secrets of his handicraft as a free gift, that is to
say, of the sovereign lotion which would clear the bronze Calvary of decay. It
was a case of a rich man──rich by beggary──robbing a poor man who earned a
living with his hands and brain."
   Toto snorted, and cracked the whip viciously.
   "Well," I said, "and what did Signor Caio do?"
   "Do, sir? Why he did what you would expect of a man of uona gente. He laughed
with open scorn in the face of that wretched cappuccino; and then he wrote down
for Fra Sebastiano, very carefully, instructions for the making of that very
virtuose lotion; also he wrote full and exact direction for completing the whole
work, so that not even a clumsy boor of a novice could make a mistake by any
chance. Yes, to that Guardiano asking, he freely gave the means of breaking his
bargain; and then he shook off the dust of his feet at him, and retired to seek
work in another place, and of honest men."
   "But do you mean to tell me that your cappuccino used the knowledge gained in
this disgraceful manner?" I asked.
   "Of course he did, sir. He has not a fine conscience, he knows nothing of
honour; he will buy, sell, bargain, and cheat, like any Hebrew grocer: he is
cappuccino, priest of God, and I call him a hard mean vulgar bit of dirt.
Luckily all cappuccini are not of his species. Generally they are lumps of
clown, like Fra Guilhelmo and Frat' Agostino."
   "Hallo," I said, "Fra Guilhelmo I can understand, but why do you bring in
Frat' Agostino?"
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IIIJ

ABOUT THE MIRACULOUS FRITTER OF FRAT' AGOSTINO OF THE CAPPUCCINI

"WELL, sir, they are as like as two little drops of water, those two. Let me
offer another story to la sua eccellenza, that it may be seen whether I err in
saying `lumps of clown,' or no.
   "On the festa of Sangiuseppe, they were to have fritters for dinner in Frat'
Agostino's convent, where there is a custom for all to go kitchen-wards when the
brother cook begins to fry the batter; and, when one side of the fritter has
been gilded, each friar takes the pan, and flings its contents into the air to
turn it, and catches it deftly on the other side. If they are clumsy or knotty-
fingered, the fritter falls to the floor, and then they have to eat it all
gritty and slimy. Oh, it is good sport to see them, I do assure you, sir!
   "Well, and soon it came to Frat' Agostino's turn; and, because his sleeves
were tight, not being Franciscan sleeves, you know, or perhaps for another
reason,──while the frati all stood round, Frat' Agostino made a mess of his
fritter.
   "These shrimps of men always wish to do gigantic things; and Frat' Agostino
wanted to hurl his fritter higher than any other friar, so he seized the pan
which held the half-fried batter, and gave a tremendous heave. Everybody saw the
batter in the pan; and then all eyes flashed upward to the vaulted roof to see
it fly. Certainly, the fritter left the pan, and Frat' Agostino gripped the
handle, and waited.
   "Well, he waited, and everybody waited; but the fritter went neither up nor
down. It only went.
   "There was no longer any fritter.
   "After an interval, the frati lowered their eyes from the roof; and there
stood Frat' Agostino staring upward, resembling a grotesk. But there was no
fritter. They turned the kitchen topsy-turvy. Such a garbuglio was never seen.
The fritter of Frat' Agostino had disappeared.
   "Oh, it was a miracle, without a doubt; and, what was more, that precious Fra
Guilhelmo had seen it done.
   "`My brethren,' he exclaimed; `give thanks unto the Signor Iddio, to the
Stella del Mattino, and to Beato Fra Francesco; for this community has merited a
vision of the gods; and to me, most wretched and yet most favoured sinner that I
am, is it given to unfold the marvel. You all have seen what a perfect fritter
had fallen to the lot of Frat' Agostino; the one side creamy, white, and
luscious, the other delicate, crisp, golden, and dripping with fat oil! Far too
fine a fritter for a miserable mortal man dwelling in a vale of sin and sorrow!
Such ambrosial food is fitted only for the gods on high! Therefore, when Frat'
Agostino tossed it to the stars, as an oblation having a sweet savour, the eyes
of my soul were opened, and I saw the Direttore della Sacra Famiglia, the Scudo
Potentissimo per i difensori della Chiesa di Cristo, the Gran Patriarca
Sangiuseppe, sitting in sadness on his throne, without a fritter for his festa,
──he, the original inventor of fritters, too!'"
   "Stop, Toto!" I cried. "Do you say that Sangiuseppe invented fritters?"
   "Patience, sir; and presently I will make the statement good. But now Fra
Guilhelmo continues, `With one wink of his august eyelid, Sangiuseppe invited
the attention of San Gabriele Arcangiolo to that paragon of fritters. And, as it
soared aloft from Frat' Agostino's pan, the tremendous Archangel of the
Annunciation swooped, and seized, and bore it triumphantly to Sangiuseppe in
paradise. O fortunate fritter! How blissful is your lot! Snatched from all the
miseries of this wicked world, to rest, for endless ages, immutable, inviolate,
unutterably serene, upon the bosom of Sangiuseppe!'"
   "This beats all," I said. "Fancy making out that Sangiuseppe is dyspeptick!"
   "Ah, I do not know what dyspeptick is, unless it means uncertain in the
temper; and every one knows how difficult it is to do business with Sangiuseppe.
   "Well; then the Fra Guardiano called Fra Guilhelmo a bubbolone, and put an
eight days' silence on him: but the fact remained that the fritter was gone, no
one knew where; so they cooked another, and went to dinner in the refectory.
   "I need not say that Frat' Agostino felt very much elation, giving himself
the airs of a grocer's wife on a holiday of obligation. It was not every friar
who could do such a trick with a fritter as he had done, and before a whole
convent, too! So, though he was absolutely ignorantly innocent, nor believed the
rubbish vomited by Fra Guilhelmo, still, all the same, he looked upon himself as
being something of a marvel; and he did not omit to let the other frati know it.
   "When these cappuccini had devoured their food, they went to make their Visit
to Il Santissimo in the church. While leaving the refectory, Frat' Agostino had
the misfortune to break a plate, walking with his nose cocked high, and sweeping
the end table with his cord. He wears boots, you know; not sandals like a real
friar: and so he stamped the plate to pieces. He had to pick them up again,
which made him late in church. After Visit, Chapter; and, when all were seated,
Frat' Agostino went on his knees in the middle of the room, and confessed in
publick his disgrazia, exhibiting the broken plate.
   "Fra Sebastiano was very pleased to have the opportunity of taking this friar
down a peg or two, especially at a time when he was so puffed with pride; and,
after condemning him, in the usual way, to wear the sherds of broken pottery on
a string around his neck for four and twenty hours, and to beg his next three
meals from his brethren,──from each plate a scrap of egg, or fish-skin, or
stalks of green, or cheese-rind,──he added the command, on holy obedience, that
Frat' Agostino should lie prostrate on his face, while the community enjoyed its
half-hour of recreation.
   "Frat' Agostino stretched out his arms and legs, flung himself forward on the
floor, flat;──and howled.
   "It was an awful howl.
   "Next, he wriggled his legs, and twitched his arms, and scrabbled with his
fingers in the dust.
   "You could not see his face; for the big stiff capperuccio of his habit,
which generally hangs down the back, had flopped up and covered his head. But,
from under the brown hood, there came continually, a moan, a squeak, and a howl,
a moan, a squeak, and a howl; and always the arms and legs kept squirming.
   "Fra Guardiano, thinking this to be a display of naughty temper, began to
speak severely, bidding Frat' Agostino to behave himself. But, seeing that that
abased friar continued to emit unearthly noises, and to welter in the folds of
his gown, somebody suggested that it might be a fit which troubled him. Then Fra
Guardiano went to him, and stirred him with his foot, saying sharply, `Frat'
Agostino,──Frat' Agostino!'
   "Instantly the noises ceased; and Frat' Agostino tempestuously stuttered,
`Confiteor Deo omnipotenti beatae Mariae semper virgini beato Michaeli
archangelo beato Johanni Baptistae-e-e-e-e-e-sanctis apostolis Petro et Paulo
omnibus sanctis et tibi pater quia peccavi nimis cogiatione verboeto pere mea
culpa mea culpa mea maxima culpa-a-a-a-a-a──oh, yes──and since my last
confession, father, I have fallen into the sin of pride──u-pépépé──I'm damned, I
am,──yes I'm damned if I'm not──I was proud because San Gabriele Arcangiolo took
my fritter──it was mine──mine──mine──iiiiiaf!──I'll never look at another till
I'm dead──I wish with all my heart I'd never seen one──o-dododododo!──But I was
proud, father──yes, proud as Lucifer──aaah! And I'm found out──found out. O Dio
mio──Dio mio──and I'm punished──yes, I'm punished──with an accursed incubus who
is sent to clutch my flesh──ahi-ahi-ahi!──O father, behold me damned forever──a-
u──a-u──a-u──a-u──a-u──and here's a dead devil──erré erré erré──oh, like ice──a-
riding on my neck──'
   "The frati sat aghast, and sweat poured down their faces till their beards
dripped,──dripped upon the floor, sir; for surely the idea of a dead devil is
altogether horrid!
   "The Fra Guardiano, also, had much fear; but when he had blessed himself very
fervently indeed with an entirely opulent sign of the cross, he took hold of
Frat' Agostino, and pulled him up from the ground.
   "And, lo! a nasty──cold──flabby──fritter──sticking to the nape of his neck.
   "Then it was seen how, in endeavouring to fling his fritter higher than any
other friar, Frat' Agostino had only tossed it over his head, into his own
gaping capperuccio, where, of course, no one had ever thought of searching for
it."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

V

ABOUT THE ORIGINAL FRITTER OF SAN GIUSEPPE

I LAUGHED heartily. It is a curious thing that the very funniest tales in all
the world should be those which concern holy persons and holy things,──the
clergy, for example.
   The humour of seculars has a narrow range. It can be, and has been, reduced
to a handful of simple formulae. But there is a spontaneity, an illimitable
variety in ecclesiastical stories, to which I respectfully direct the attention
of my unknown colleagues of the quill. I rigidly exclude, however, narratives of
a certain brand, which are invented by the class of clergy technically
designated "holy men," and recited, with the nuts, at clerical dinner-tables.
   The mind of the clerick is──and thanks be to all gods for that same──a
cramped and uncultured one. Its operations are concentrated upon one sole point,
viz., the salvation of souls in general, and of its own in particular. Hence the
gyrations of clergy of the calibre of Fra Guilhelmo and of Frat' Agostino (who
represent a proportion of their profession, and who, apparently (but, I am sure,
ignorantly), take delight in bringing ridicule and disrepute upon the most
respectable traditions) are as amusing to the English connoisseur (I do not say
British, because I want to exclude Kelts, and to include my English cousins of
America) as the anticks of any other foreigner.
   Yes! There you have it! The clergy (of whom I am, in private life, the least)
are foreigners. They belong to a kingdom not of this world. And, as foreigners,
I find them extremely diverting.
   But I reminded Toto of his assertion that Sangiuseppe was the inventor of
fritters.
   "Yes, sir; and indeed he was.
   "Now there was Madonnina,──oh, but beautiful beyond my power to tell, just
like an evening lily, with truthful, peacock-purple eyes, and shining hair
coloured like a field of rye at harvest-time, and being but fourteen years and
three months old. Her parents, Sangioacchino and Santanna, had betrothed her to
Sangiuseppe, who was grave and in his prime; because his staff had bloomed with
almond-blossoms, showing that the Padre Eterno looked on him with favour.
   "On a night in spring, but earlier in the year than this, Madonnina went to
the well in the lily-garden; and, as she went, the flowers bowed down to break
their hearts in perfume, and to kiss her little feet.
   "Stars gleamed in the water. All was very still.
   "Madonnina was seated on the marble steps. She was making her meditation.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Presently, a gentle breath stirred. Roses and violets offered odours in
their rustling petals.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Greatest angels came into the garden; and they kneeled before their queen.
   "There was San Gabriele Arcangiolo like an arcidiacono, all in silver; huge,
and white, and young with silver hair.
   "There was San Rafaele Arcangiolo like a pilgrim, with his staff and fish.
   "There was San Michele Arcangiolo like a warrior; and his armour was all
gold.
   "The first of these archangels held a sceptre, like a lily of blue gems. The
others bore a cushion, with a lily-diadem of pearls.
   "You can see that cloudy whiteness like milk across the sky? Well, sir; that
is the army of angels, far away. But, on this night of which I speak, it reached
right down to the earth as well, millions upon millions, all in white; some
carrying the stars in lanthorns; and some with arciliuti and quinterne for a
serenade. They kneeled, from earth to heaven, behind the Santi Arcangioli,
Gabriele, Rafaele, and Michele.
   "And, to the first, Madonnina said, `O archangel, what is your name?'
   "He answered, `Gabriele is my name; and I come on the part of the Padre
Eterno.' Then, San Gabriele Arcangiolo said, `Ave, Maria gratia plena, Dominus
tecum, benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus Fructus ventris tui, Jhesus:'
as the Santo Spirito had taught him in paradise.
   "And the angels sang in chorus, very, very low, `Ave──Ave──Ave──'
   "Madonnina trembled, being only a little girl; but she was wise──so wise; and
nothing did she say.
   "San Gabriele Arcangiolo whispered, `O Virgo virginum, have no fear; for the
Padre Eterno loves you well. And I am to tell you that, if you will, you shall
be made the Mother of Cristo Liberatore. His name will be Gesù: He is the Son of
the Padre Altissimo: and He is King in sæcula sæculorum: amen.'
   "Madonnina desired to do the Will of the Padre Eterno above all things: but
she was a girl: and she wanted to know. She said to San Gabriele Arcangiolo,
`But I am a maid; and Sangiuseppe has but now betrothed me.'
   "San Gabriele Arcangiolo answered, `Madonna, the Santo Spirito will embrace
you with His Power, and you shall be Madre di Dio e sempre Vergine. O Maria
Santissima, think of the Might of the Padre Onnipotente, Who built the world,
and of Whose wonders there is no end. In proof of this, know that your cousin,
Santelisabetta, has conceived in her old age; and, in three months' time, she
will bear Sangiambattista, to be the prophet of that Son Whom my Sovereign wills
to have of you.'
   "At this, the gracious Madonnina gave consent; and a gentle Dove, gold-
feathered and having silver wings, flew down from paradise, and nestled in her
snow-pure breast.
   "Then, San Rafaele Arcangiolo and San Michele Arcangiolo crowned her Regina
Angelorum, with the lily diadem of pearls.
   "San Gabriele Arcangiolo invested her with the sceptre resembling a lily of
blue gems.
   "The marble steps of the well became her throne.
   "The rose-bush was her baldaquin.
   "And angels kissed the violets before her little feet.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "When this embassage had returned to paradise, Madonnina gave thanks to the
Padre Eterno for His Grace, and made an oblation of herself, lifting up holy
hands. Then she went to visit her cousin, Santelisabetta; for she wished to
talk, as ladies do, concerning the admirable words of San Gabriele Arcangiolo.
   "Santelisabetta lived next to the church, in a little town on the hills; and,
when Madonnina, bearing her Divine Burthen, entered the house, the six-months
child, which Santelisabetta had within her, kneeled down and adored Il
Santissimo Salvatore. So Santelisabetta knew, in that moment, that the Madre di
Dio and Il Santissimo Bambino were there; therefore she did not salute Madonnina
in the fashion of cousins, but she kneeled upon the threshold, saying her `Ave
Maria──and what honour──and what condescension to a poor sinner like I am!'
   "Madonnina had no pride. She could not have. Tota pulchra es, amica mea, et
macula non est in te. She sang Magificat Anima Mea Dominum; and the two mothers,
the old and the young, each wept in the other's arms for joy."

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   Toto was silent for some minutes.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   I saw the lights of Rome along the road. "What about the fritters?" I said.
   "Yes, sir; the fritters. Well, Santelisabetta's baby was born at midsummer,
and they called him Sangiambattista. And, six months after, it was Christmas;
and then Cristo Liberatore deigned to descend into the world.
   "Soon, Santelisabetta brought her son to worship the Son of the Santissima
Vergine. at the house of Sangiuseppe, who was the Protector of the Madonnina and
of Il Santissimo Bambino, he being a joiner by trade.
   "Santelisabetta and Sangiambattista arrived at about nine of the clock, and
worshipped until ten; and, afterwards, the babies played, and the two mothers
engaged in holy conversation.
   "Now you know, sir, that ladies talk unceasingly, without feeling tired, or
thinking how the hours slip by. So when eleven o'clock came, and the Madonnina
did not call Sangiuseppe to his dinner, he remembered that she had her cousin
with her, and perhaps that would make her a little late. Therefore he went on
with his work.
   "When twelve o'clock came, the church-bell rang; and he said his Ave Maria;
and then he took the liberty of peeping into the house.
   "There sat Madonnina and Santelisabetta, talking──talking.
   "`Ah well,' Sangiuseppe thought; `she does n't see her cousin every day, and
it will be a change for her.' And the good man returned to his bench.
   "At one o'clock, he was faint with hunger; also, ready for his siesta; and he
took another peep. There was no sign of dinner; and continually the ladies
talked.
   "Sangiuseppe would not intrude upon Madonna for all the world. His business
was to take care of her, not to worry her. So he hunted about the kitchen to see
whether he could find anything to eat; and the first thing to catch his eye was
a pudding, incomplete, but evidently meant for him, in honour of his festa.
Madonnina had whipped eggs, and put them in a bowl with flour, and salt, and
cream; and there they stood.
   "Sangiuseppe carried that bowl into his workshop, and began to sup the
pudding with a spoon. But there was something wrong with it. To begin with, it
was icy cold, never having seen the fire; and Sangiuseppe knew not how to cook
it.
   "A buon cavalier non manca lancia, and a god is not the person to despair
when in a difficulty. Sangiuseppe at once put on his thinking cap. Here he was,
in his workshop, with a mess that cried to be cooked. He could not go back into
the house with it, in case the creaking of his new shoes might disturb Madonnina
and her guest. He looked about him for a little while; and, at last, he saw what
he would do.
   "There was a fine wide shovel belonging to the stove where he heated his
glue. He cleaned it very carefully with fresh shavings. Then he took the
shavings and some chips, and made a bright little fire between some stones,
outside the door of his workshop. He crept round to the oil-cask, and filled his
shovel with fresh oil; and, then, he sat down on a block of wood before his
fire, having the shovel in his left hand, and the bowl of batter in his right.
   "First, he held the shovel on the fire, till the oil bubbled and boiled;
next, he poured the batter into the shovel; and, when it was gilded on one side,
he turned it over with a clean splinter. Last of all, he held the world's first
fritter in the pan with another clean splinter, drained off the oil into the
grass, stamped out the fire with care, and, lo, a delicious fritter, gold, and
crisp, and succulent, to reward his pains!
   "That is why I say that Sangiuseppe invented fritters; and, also, that is why
all the world honours him by eating fritters on his festa."

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   We swept up to the Gate of St. John.
   Here, I took the reins. I never could get that boy to learn short cuts
through the city. We talked through Merulana; but when I branched to the left
before Santa Maria Maggiore, there was silence, until we reached my lair on
Banchi Vecchi.
   After supper, and writing up my notes, I tried a new huqa, a lovely thing
sent from Smyrna by Biasio C────. It was sweet, so long as I eyed it; but when I
began to read the papers, Toto had to squat by the bowl, with a scaldino, to
keep it lighted.
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

VI

BEING AN EPICK OF SANGIORGIO, PROTECTOR OF THE KINGDOM

THE next morning, at nine, we were at San Giorgio ad Velum Aureum.
   Among the herbs on the floor, there was an unusual quantity of rosemary and
thyme; and the scent was delicious. I brought an arm-full of pure primroses, to
scatter round the altar of Sangiorgio. I showed to Toto the bulla, tied on the
baldaquin of the basilican altar, without which no priest, save the Santo Padre,
may officiate there. The eunuchs of the papal quire misbehaved, as usual, in a
box on the epistle-side. What an annoying mass it was! Just a series of florid
soli, during which the disengaged singers sat and chatted at the back of their
tribune, took snuff, and apparently made up their betting books, while the
conductor smacked time with a roll of music. At the beginning of Gloria in
excelsis Deo, a priest came from the sacristy to say a low mass at the altar of
Sangiorgio: and, in his wake, we promptly skipped. Here, we worshipped the
relicks,──most admirable relicks,──the head of the lance of Sangiorgio, a large
piece of red silk from the cross of his pennon, and his veritable skull; the
last having a facial angle undoubtedly as Greek as that of the Hermes of the
Heraion. Toto had not seen these treasures before. His gorgeous eyes dilated,
and he was ardently appreciative. The Gloria of the basilican altar ended at the
moment when we finished hearing our low mass,──say twenty-two minutes. By
waiting for the Ite of the high mass, we should be detained till noon-day: so we
left the basilica before ten, considering ourselves in luck for a change; and in
a few minutes we were driving fast along the Appian Way.
   I asked Toto whether he had anything to say in honour of Sangiorgio.
   "Oh, yes, sir; but many chapters! Why, my beloved Frat' Innocente-of-the-
Nine-Quires would speak of nothing else, unless I made it necessary! And he told
his history to me so many times that I can sing it to you in his proper words;
only, he made me promise that, whenever I should so sing, I should first say
that I will not swear that it is true. For one cannot say, for certain, of
Sangiorgio more than this, that he was a brave young knight who slew a dæmon-
dragon in the sea, and, afterward, was robbed of the breath of his breast, by
the sword of a wicked king, who wished him to renye his Christian Faith.
   "Also, the said Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires told me that people of
antick times had so much veneration for this megalomartyr,──that is to say, for
the grandeur of this god, Sangiorgio,──that they went further than Holy Mother
Church allows; for they invented splendid histories about him, and added these
to his veritable Acts; until, at last, no one knew how much was really true, or
how much false. Then the Santo Padre feared lest the soul of Sangiorgio should
take a damage from insidious flattery; and so He ordered him to think of nothing
but the eternal welfare of the illustrious English Race, which is as powerful on
the sea as was Sangiorgio in those antick times. (Did you not let me see the
mighty ships of England at Civita Vecchia? Have I not seen Sangiorgio's rose-red
cross upon them? Yes, sir. Therefore I am not ignorant of those things.) Well
then, and the Santo Padre, called Gelasio, said, also, that every writing about
Sangiorgio must be burned; and that no more was to be known of him, for sure,
except what I have said;──brave──young──knight──invincible on the sea──slayer of
the dragon──megalomartyr──protector of the English Race. But yet, though you may
burn books, you cannot burn the memories and mouths of men; and, therefore, many
histories of Sangiorgio remain; and perhaps they are true, perhaps false: but,
as to that, said Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires, there is no knowing.
   "Now that is clear to la sua eccellenza; and this is the history of
Sangiorgio which Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires sang to me:──

     "* Scuto Bonæ Voluntatis Tuæ: alleluia:
      Coronasti eum Domine: alleluia:

   "I cannot tell you to what race Ser Giorgio belonged; but, if you journey
southward to the Three-Tongued Island, at length you shall attain a maritime
port upon the sea-shore, called Catania. And, there, you take a ship; and, alway
facing the right side of the rising sun, you sail across the sea, until you
reach a foreign kingdom where many islands are; and, there, the Isle of the
Seraphim, is where Ser Giorgio lived and died.
   "No one knew whence he came; for, when he was a little tiny babe, a sailor of
those islands found him, with his girl-mother, in a drifting boat, and brought
him to the king as treasure trove. And the king gave him to a priest who served
the chapel of Madonnina, called Sedes Sapientiæ, that he might be well bred in
holy works and ways.
   "His hair was like an orange in the light of noon; he had a skin of cream;
and eyes──but, Eyes! When you saw them first, they were cool, and half-shut; but
they looked you through and through. When you saw them longer, you found
yourself to be as foolish as a jay. But, when you knew them well, they opened,
large, and wide, and clear; and, in their shining depth you saw the spark which
no man dare to strike. And their colour resembled a brown almond bright with
morning dew.
   "Ser Giorgio spent his boyhood by the sea, where pure salt air gave grace,
and hardihood, and courage. Nor was the genius of his generous soul untrained in
the hidden wisdom which the high gods have, and give to few. For, often at
night, Ser Giorgio would lie alone, upon the summit of the giant headland riding
on the sea, and listen to great angels, whispering, each to other in the winds,
those mysteries which no man can learn from written books. At day-dawn, plunging
from the height, he saw the waving weeds, and shells of the sea-floor, and all
the marvel of the deep. Returning to the shore, he wrang the salt sea from his
hair, and went to say his Ave Maria at Madonnina's shrine; which same sweet
Mother often left her Son, and stepped down from her picture painted on the
chapel-wall, and called the Sedes Sapientiæ, who deigned to teach the young Ser
Giorgio holy things.
   "So the stripling lived, until he came to seventeen years of age: and, then,
the king grew jealous; for, already, people looked upon Ser Giorgio as a god,
seeing his strength, his fearlessness, his youth, his goodness, and his
majestick gait. And there was something more. The king had cast his eye on that
girl-mother, whose white arms had borne the little tiny baby in the drifting
boat: but never had he dared to harm her for he feared, as all men feared, the
blinding splendour of Ser Giorgio's eyes.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Not many years before, a witch had sold her soul to Sathanas for gold: also,
she had bargained with that arch-dæmon that he should arm her with the evil eye,
so that all who looked on her should turn to stone. Thus she was safe from
robbers who might try to steal her gold. She was the eldest of five sisters,
witches all. Two lived in the desert. The other two lived with her, in a secret
cave, far away across the sea; from whence she cast spells, and sent hot fevers
floating through the world, blighted the vines, blasted growing corn, and
poisoned wells and water-springs.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "So the wicked king armed this hardy, valorous youth, Ser Giorgio, with
antient arms,──a battered helmet, a broken sword, a rusty shield, and nothing
more,──and sent him on a quest, to find, and slay, the horrid witch; for he
thought to rid himself, by this means, and without shame, of the only champion
who stood between the mother of Ser Giorgio and his desire.
   "But, before the young knight started on his quest, he went and called on
heaven to be his aid, laying his antient arms before the altar, in the chapel of
the Madonnina by the sea. All night he kept vigil, and prayed; and, when day
dawned, the Madonnina, called Sedes Sapientiæ, stepped down from her picture
painted on the wall. Mighty angels and archangels came in her train; and she
said, `O knight of mine, you go to battle against Sathanas. Have you no fear?'
   "Ser Giorgio answered, `No, Madonnina; supposing that you wish me well.'
   "The Madonnina said, most certainly she wished him well; and, as a proof of
her good-will, she bade the archangel-prince, who stood at her right hand, to
doff his golden helmet. This, she placed upon Ser Giorgio's head; and gave him
news that, all the time he lived unstained by mortal sin, and wore the helm of
San Michele Arcangiolo, all mortal eyes and dæmon's eyes were blind to him.
Then, at his queen's command, the archangel-prince standing at her left hand,
whose name was San Gabriele Arcangiolo, stooped down, and bound upon the
stripling's eager feet gold shoes with wings, that, bird-like, he might walk the
high air over land and sea. Then, her hand moved above the antient rusty shield;
and, underneath her hand, there sprang a rose-red cross, while the shield shone
silver white as crystal over snow, for joy because the Madonnina blessed it. San
Michele Arcangiolo gave Ser Giorgio a sword, also a lance which had a pennon
white as the soul of a boy who wears his chrismal robe; and, on the pennon, the
rose-red cross was signed, the same as on the shield. And, last of all, the
Madonnina took off her own white mantle, broidered blue; and, with her holy
hands, she clasped it on the breast of her young knight.
   "But Ser Giorgio cried, `O Madonnina, will not your favour grant me one thing
more? It is true, Maesta, and my lords these princes, that you have given me a
lance, a sword, a golden helmet with curved crest, winged shoes, the rose-red
cross upon my shining shield, and your own mantle, which, surely, angel-hands
have woven on the looms of heaven, in spring-time, from petals of forget-me-nots
and lilies;──all these, O Madonnina, and my lords these princes, you have given
freely: yet I lack mail to shield my breast, and I crave of you a knightly belt
and spurs of gold.' Ser Giorgio spoke so, boldly, to the queen. He knew that he
had but to ask,──and have.
   "The Madonnina answered, `O knight of mine, in all my armoury, there is no
breast-plate better than that which shields your brave heart now.'
   "`But, Madonnina, now, my breast is bare!' Ser Giorgio cried.
   "The Madonnina answered him again. She said, `O knight of mine, Innocence is
the breast-plate that you wear; and, not the fieriest dart forged by the arch-
dæmon, can pierce the fence of youthful and inviolate innocence. Yet,──mark me
well,──it must be worn unceasingly; for, once put off, it cannot be put on again
on this side of the grave. And the belt and spurs of gold will be the guerdon
which I give to my true knight──when he has won them.'
   "With these words, the Madonnina blessed Ser Giorgio again, smiling upon him,
and giving him a white rose of paradise; and, at her smile, the bordures of the
silver-shining shield blossomed with roses carved in gold.
   "The vision faded; and the Madonnina, called the Sedes Sapientiæ, went back
into her picture painted on the wall: angels and archangels returned to their
own place, where San Michele Arcangiolo set Santeligio, armourer and goldsmith
of the gods, to work on a helmet, lance, and sword, in place of those lent to
Ser Giorgio. The chariot of the sun rode high above the pure salt sea, upon
whose shore Ser Giorgio stood, with hair most beautiful to see, and shining with
the purple light of youth, equipped with arms, and ready for his knightly quest.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Angels clustered along the golden ramparts of the Città di Dio, to watch
this stalwart champion considering his plans. Ser Giorgio was wise, as well as
young and brave. He always marked the seven, to cut off one. And presently, he
mounted up the giant headland riding on the sea; and, striding to its summit, he
raised his head, and cried, `Hola! San Rafaele Arcangiolo! Hola! Hola!'
   "The archangel-comrade heard Ser Giorgio's voice, and spread his wings, and
floated down, as feathers flit upon the breeze. He said, `You do me honour, O
Ser Giorgio; for you have gained the good will of my queen; and, when the
favoured of the queen of angels needs my aid, in all things I am bound to serve
him, saving the Will of Domeniddio.'
   "The stripling answered, `My knightly quest lies on a dangerous road; and my
enemy is hidden from me. Show me the horrid witch whom I am sworn to slay. Be my
companion in my journey; that, in peace, and health, and joy, I may return
again. Kurie eleeson. Christe eleeson.'
   "San Rafaele Arcangiolo said, `O fearless knight, I will go with you all the
way along your dangerous road, most willingly, and bring you home at length, in
peace, and health, and joy: but I may not tell you where the witch lies hidden,
for all the glory of the quest is yours.' And, saying this, the huge archangel
put off the radiance of his princely state, and took the shape of a slender
squire, having rose-red hose and a tabard, white as snow, whose blazon was a
rose-red cross, that he might serve Ser Giorgio, as, formerly, he served the
young Tobia.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   A hundred miles away there stood a solitary tree, seared and riven by
thunderbolts, a hollow, withered tree, upon a desert waste, all scorching sand
and flinty rock. Within this tree, there lived a pair of sisters of the horrid
witch, wrinkled, and grey, and horrible. One of these hags had a single eye,
shrivelled and watery; the other none. But this one had a tusk, a single tusk:
the first was toothless. One hag depended on the other; for the first with her
one eye would sight a prey, and make the second tear it with her tusk. To these
the noble knight Ser Giorgio came, having no fear; and from one hag, he snatched
the horrid tusk; and from the other hag, he snatched the evil eye: and so he had
them at his mercy.
   "Then, while they shrieked and champed their gums with rage, he spoke, and
offered restoration of the eye and tusk; but on condition that they should first
reveal to him the secret cave wherein the hell-cat of a deathly witch, their
sister, could be found.
   "Base curs will alway sell their friends, turning traitor to avoid
affliction. They wish to be on the safe side,──the side which pays the best, and
gives no pain. Therefore these hags hastened to betray their sister's hiding-
place, saying that Sathanas, the arch-dæmon, kept her far away, in Africa, where
he had given her a secret cave, with many black dæmons and hobgoblins for her
servitors, who burrowed long tunnels in the ground, and, by those roads,
conveyed her poisons through the world.
   "When he heard this, Ser Giorgio stooped down, giving back the eye and the
tusk; then he mounted in the air, borne upward on the wings of gold which San
Gabriele Arcangiolo had bound upon his eager feet; and, ere the hags had time to
see him with the eye, or grip or tear him with the venomous tusk, the knight was
speeding swiftly over land and sea, upon his quest. San Rafaele Arcangiolo,
shaped like a slender squire, went with him for a guard, leading him on. He wore
the mantle which the Madonnina gave,──the Madonnina whom he used to worship in
her picture painted on the chapel wall, and called the Sedes Sapientiæ,──and so
he sped his swift unerring way through the high air, all that long journey into
Africa. There, he found the dark and slimy cave wherein the horrid witch who
sold her soul to Sathanas was hiding with her other sister-witches.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   Ser Giorgio raised his silver-shining shield; the Madonnina's smile had made
it shine for joy because she blessed it. The outside bore the rose-red cross;
the inside showed a picture, mirrored bright and clear as in a glass. And,
upward──alway upward, to the inside of his lifted shield Ser Giorgio looked,
that, so, the evil eye of that dread witch should cast no spell on him.
   "He saw the sisters sleeping on a couch made of the multitudinous bodies of
fat toads. Black cacodæmons and hobgoblins fanned hot fevers in the air, with
weary beatings of blistered wings of bats. Each witch was clothed with scaly
skin; and at their finger-ends were claws of brass. He watched them in the
brilliance of his shield.
   "The horrid witch, the slave of Sathanas, slept with a sister on this side,
and on that; and, in the mirror of his silver-shining shield, Ser Giorgio saw
the image of that awful face which turns all men to stone. It had no skin.

     "The festered flesh was bleeding raw, and green.
      The shapeless features twitched unceasingly.
      Grey vipers writhed and tangled in the hair.
      A huge white toad sat dribbling on the brow.
      And, fearful, wide, wild, horror lay behind
      The stony glaring of those lidless eyes.

   "Then, like a falling star, the young knight's sword──the sword of San
Michele Arcangiolo──struck off the head of the bloated witch; while in the act,
Ser Giorgio seized it as it fell, and gave it to his slender squire, mounting in
air, borne upward on the wings of gold which San Gabriele Arcangiolo had bound
upon his eager feet. Neither the cacodæmons, nor hobgoblins, nor the sisters of
the horrid witch could see him, for he wore the curving-crested helmet of San
Michele Arcangiolo; and he flew so mightily upon the wings of gold, that he
escaped their rage, and rending of the air with brazen claws.
   "So he left the dark and slimy cave; and, rising to the clouds, he flew──he
flew──he flew──and scoured away across the sea.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Sathanas, thwarted here, breaks out there. So it will be till the
consummation of the world, when San Michele Arcangiolo will chain him fast for
ever in the lowest pit of hell. And, while Ser Giorgio was gone to slay the
horrid witch and take her head, Sathanas made an onslaught on that isle where
the Madonnina's shrine stood by the shore, sending there the dæmon called
Apollyon, to make the people sin.

  "Out of the sea, he rose, all fierce and grim;
   a monstrous lizard, having iron jaws,
   and snorting fearful gusts of smoke and flame;
   whose snaky length was armed with iron scales,
   and writhed along the waves for full a mile.
   And he demanded of the king that worship and that service which is paid to
       the Signor Iddio on His Throne.

   "The king refused; for, though a proud and wicked man, also full of lust, he
called himself a Christian.
   "At this, the dragon breathed a pestilence across the land; and all the
horses perished where they stood; then he sank the slow length of his iron coils
beneath the boiling waters of the sea.
   "Next day, the hideous lizard climbed the giant headland riding on the sea;
and once more he called upon the people to save themselves by means of mortal
sin. Met by refusal, the monster roared with rage, and blew a pestilence across
the land which slew half all the cattle; then he sank beneath the boiling waters
of the angry sea.
   "The third day, Apollyon came again, and crouched before the king. Crowds
stood near, all pale and sick, because the dragon said no word, but sighed
continually; and, at each sigh, the earth shook, and a gust of hot wind with a
noisome stench blasted them, striking fear of death into their hearts. And they
said to the king, `Surely the gods amuse themselves in paradise, forgetting us,
their clients, leaving us a prey to Sathanas. If we resist this dæmon, we and
our cattle die, and our land is desolated. Therefore, O king, speak courteously
to him. Ask him to take a gift, and go away, leaving us in peace. To-day, we are
in his power. To-morrow, the gods may remember us, and look upon us, and help
us; but, to-day, we must help ourselves.'
   "The king spoke courteously to the dragon, asking what gift must be given to
buy his favour.
   "The loathsome monster claimed a gift of all the little girls of fourteen
years, that he might suck their hearts to quench his thirst.
   "But the people wept, crying for mercy, offering any gift but that; and, the
more they wept and cried, the more the dragon raged, sickening them with the hot
stench of his breath, making them mad with fear, till they consented to this
frightful sacrifice in order to appease his anger.

  "Their eyes went blind with tears they could not shed;
   their bursting throats ached with a powerless rage:
   and there they stripped their children by the shore,
   all tender little maids of fourteen years,
   and bound them, helpless, on the rocks, around
   the giant headland riding on the sea.

   "The dragon spumed along the heaving foam, to drink their blood.
   "Despairing fathers saw those gentle bodies tremble, turn by turn, crushed in
the hot clutch of Apollyon, whose burning lips sank, sucking out the heart,
between the dainty upward-pointing breasts. They saw the struggle, and writhing
quiver of soft white limbs, of little rounded arms, which, yesterday, were
nestling in some loved embrace. And, now, they saw their darlings still, and
cold, and pale, as winter's snow.
   "From rock to rock, from maid to maid, the dragon darted all that day; till
nightfall showed a fringe of pallid broken flowers along the shore; and then he
sank the slow length of his iron coils beneath the boiling waters of the
outraged sea.

  "Mothers went wild that night; and lovers raved
   against the Signor Iddio on His Throne,
   against the Madonnina and her Son,
   against th' unhearing gods in paradise,
   against th' angelick hierarchy of heaven,
   because these things were done. Oh! they forgot
   that christian men need never fear the fiend;
   for Sathanas, when boldly faced, will fly:
   therefore he must be spat upon, defied
   if need be, even unto death, and worse;
   for th' amaranthine crown, which heroes wear
   in paradise, outweighs the bitter pain
   that wins it, here. And, further, they forgot that, yielding to the menaces
       of Sathanas, to-day, makes him free to come again with fresh demands, to-
       morrow.

   "So, when the sun rose, all the sky blushed red to see the spoils which the
dragon had won from christian men; and Apollyon came once more, rearing grinning
jaws above the sea.
   "Now that king had a daughter, a lovely little maid of fourteen years; and
when his people gave their children to appease the dragon, he kept her hidden in
the palace, thinking that Apollyon, who may be quailed and quelled, but not
cheated──as Sathanas, his lord, may be defeated, but not deceived, being himself
the master of deceit──would have slaked his thirst upon the hecatomb of
yesterday.
   "But the dragon came, demanding that the king's young daughter should be
brought and bound, that he might suck her heart as he had sucked the hearts of
all the other maids, or, in default, he said, the island should be overwhelmed,
engulphed, washed out by the sea.
   "And, even with these words, he heaved his horrid length above the water,
high into the air, and, falling forward with a thunderous crash, striking the
surface with a belly scaled with iron, he made huge waves rush up the beach
right to the terror-bound feet of those who stood, transfixed with fear and
shame, to parley with him.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "San Rafaele Arcangiolo urged Ser Giorgio on, and gave him swifter speed
across the sea. He flew──he flew──he flew on the wings of gold which San
Gabriele Arcangiolo had bound upon his eager feet.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   Then that king brought his daughter to the shore, and stretched her on a
rock. She flushed as rosy-white as any pearl. He strained her arms to right and
left, and bound them in the shadows of her hair. He laid her little feet among
loose strands of weed above the surface of the sea. The slim young maid lay
still. Her jacinth eyes were wet with tears, and the sweet upward-pointing
breasts quivered with little sighs.
   "Apollyon grinned to see this delicate morsel; and, to inflame his lust of
blood, he coiled his monstrous lizard body, with iron jaws, and armed along its
length with giant fish-scales all of iron, around the rock on which his victim
lay; feasted and fed his burning eyes and brain, gloating over this delicious
maid, till he flashed into flame and lashed the boiling sea, eyeing her from a
distance, that he might rush in, at last, to clutch her, cleaving the waters
with sinuous tail; and, plunging lips deep in her soft flesh, suck out her
heart's blood.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "But, behold! behold! Between the infernal dragon and the wild-rose maid, the
great Ser Giorgio came!
   "He flew on the wings of gold which San Gabriele Arcangiolo had bound upon
his eager feet. The mantle of Madonnina streamed in the wind, kissing the rose-
red cross of the pennon of the lance that swung from the socket at the heel. He
wore the golden curving-crested helmet of San Michele Arcangiolo. On his left
arm, he bore the silver shining shield, whose bordures bloomed with golden
roses, and which shone for joy when the Madonnina smiled and blessed it with the
rose-red cross. And in his strong right hand he brandished his resistless
golden-hilted sword. He came between the infernal dragon and the maid.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "And as Apollyon foamed along the surface of the sea, his eyes fell on the
rose-red cross Ser Giorgio bore, signed on the silver of his shining shield.
   "And terror took the dæmon.
   "Ser Giorgio swung his sword,──the sword of San Michele Arcangiolo,──raining
slashing blows upon that iron-scaled neck, and slew the infernal dragon of the
sea.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Then he unbound the gentle maid, the daughter of the king, yet, in his
reverence for womanhood, he gave her not the pain of seeing him, but flew with
her to her father on the shore,──father dazed with shame, and fear, and utter
joy. And while the maiden swooned, Ser Giorgio revealed himself, raising the
golden curving-crested helmet of San Michele Arcangiolo for an instant, while
the thankful people found a voice, and gave a loud ovation shouting, `Io! Io!'
to the victor.
   "But Ser Giorgio, again invisible, passed swiftly through the throng, and
went to bend low his high knee before the altar of Madonnina, called the Sedes
Sapientiæ, in her chapel by the sea.
   "First, to San Rafaele Arcangiolo, who served him as a slender squire, he
offered thanks for companionship and service on a dangerous quest; and for
bringing him home in peace and health and joy.
   "Next to San Gabriele Arcangiolo and San Michele Arcangiolo, he gave the
helmet and the lance, the sword and the shoes with wings of gold, which those
fair princes lent; and he offered thanks to them for their strong aid.
   "Then, last, but best of all, he rendered grateful praise to her who gave him
wisdom and a valiant heart,──the Madonnina in her picture painted on the wall,
and called the Sedes Sapientiæ: also, he returned that admirable mantle, which
hands of angels wove on looms of heaven in spring from petals of forget-me-nots
and lilies. And he said `Madonnina Mary, tell me; have I won that belt and spurs
of gold?' She answered, `O strenuous youth, O vehement knight of mine, have
patience. Once more, I claim your service. Once more you must bear arms for me
against Sathanas. And, when you see me sitting on my throne, in the kingdom of
my Son, then you may ask me for the belt and spurs of gold; for, then, you will
have won them.'
   "So having paid his duteous respects to her whom Il Santissimo, dying on His
Cross, gave to Man for Mother, next, Ser Giorgio embraced his earthly mother,
smiling at him through the tears which loving women shed for joy, and held his
strong arms round her, while she babbled of her pride in her boy's bravery,
murmuring praises to the gods who guarded him in his dangerous quest, and
brought him back to her in peace and health and joy.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Next day, the king would have Ser Giorgio show himself, and say what honour,
or what reward would pay him for his arduous toil. And, by the throne, there
stood the king's fair daughter, radiant in silver sown with pearls, and sweet
and fresh and pure as a wild-rose.
   "Ser Giorgio looked upon her loveliness; and he offered her the white rose of
paradise, which the Madonnina gave him when she smiled and blessed his silver-
shining shield in her chapel by the sea.
   "The princess took the rose of paradise, worshipping it with her lips; and,
then, Ser Giorgio asked the king to give him, as his meed, that gracious maid,
his daughter, for a bride.
   "And the king agreed; but, being a wicked man whose plans the youth had
spoiled, he cursed Ser Giorgio, deep down in his heart.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "That night the king could not sleep; and, to him, raging with
disappointment, came Sathanas, who said, `O king, have you resolved to leave
your pleasures, and to serve the silly gods who never let you follow your own
will, but keep you strictly lest you should enjoy the good things of my store?
This knight of yours, this Giorgio, has slain my witch whom I had bought with
gold; also, my slave Apollyon: and you will reward him with that delicious maid,
your daughter, who was meat of mine. What do you gain by this? Nothing! Your bed
is bare! The woman for whom your heart is sick, is safe, and rests secure,
protected by her son, this Giorgio. There is no warm embrace to clasp you; and,
yet, you give your daughter to this boy, who keeps you from your heart's desire.
And all because he slew my slaves, forsooth! Know, silly king, that I have many
millions more, each more powerful than Apollyon, or than that witch. These, I
will send, to blight your vines, to blast your growing corn, poison your wells
and water-springs, kill all your cattle, rob you of your crown, and make you
gnaw your wasted flesh for food, and beg for any death to free you from your
pain: unless you swear allegiance to my will, and serve me as your god.'
   "Before the threats of Sathanas, the wicked king cowered down upon his bed.
He forgot that the sign of our salvation, waved in the air, will drive the arch-
dæmon down to endless fire; for he was drunk with lust, and the sin of jealousy
was like a chain about his mind. He whimpered, that he knew not what to do!──He
lusted after the mother, and he loathed her son!──Also──he was a miserable man.
──But, what could he do?────
   "Sathanas answered him, `Adore me, and obey my will.' And, sinking low his
voice,──so low, indeed, that it was not a voice, nor a whisper, nor even a
thought suggested, but a picture, and a scroll, which only the eye of one man's
mind, and that the king's, could read or see,──Sathanas and his royal slave
pondered over many cunning stratagems, till the day dawned; and they conspired,

     "against the Signor Iddio on His Throne,
      to rob the Madonnina of her knight,
      to slay Ser Giorgio by a shameful death,
      to get his mother for the lustful king,
      his bride to go, a maid, to Sathanas.

   "That day was chaunted the epithalamium of the very noble knight, Ser
Giorgio, and the wild-rose daughter of the king. All day long, the populace
rejoiced and feasted; and they crowned the intrepid youth and his young bride
with roses, till the sun went down.
   "Ser Giorgio sat by the seashore, between his mother and his maid. He spoke
of the Madonnina's promise of a belt and spurs of gold. The stars grew bright in
a violet sky. In silence, revel died.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Then, Sathanas appeared before the wicked lustful king, and said, `The hour
is near. Arise: fulfil your oath to me!'

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "The youthful knight was mounting on his bridal-bed, to taste the loveliness
of that white wild-rose maid which the might of his strong arm had won. But,
even as he felt her heart quiver with love so near his own, and kissed the
freshness of her nestling in his ardent breast, San Rafaele Arcangiolo came
flying down the moonbeams' silver shining in the room, who said, `Arise, Ser
Giorgio, and go to win your belt and spurs of gold. I take your mother and your
bride to be my care; and, you may know that, under my protection, they are safe
from every evil thing. Therefore, go in peace, knight of my queen, and have no
fear.'
   "Ser Giorgio veiled the ivory of his skin beneath the tunic which he wore in
peaceful days. It was as white as snow; and, on the breast, his mother's hands
had sewn his badge, the rose-red cross. He buckled the white straps of the
sandals on his insteps, and half-way between his ankles and his high uncringing
knees. Striding to the threshold, he encountered sudden-sent messengers, who
said, `The king commands your illustrious presence at his council hall; for news
has reached him that an antient foe, having heard of the damage done by the
infernal dragon, has deemed the time a fitting one for invasion of the kingdom.'
   "Ser Giorgio followed the heralds. At the court, the wicked king was waiting
on his throne, surrounded by his councillors, all wise old men, the wisest in
the realm; though none had wisdom, or valour, or insight, deep as that which
tingled in the young Ser Giorgio from heel to crown. This, they knew well: and,
in their stress, they asked advice of him, as of a god.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "San Rafaele Arcangiolo brought to the shore a little swift-sailed boat. In
it, he placed the mother and the bride beloved of Ser Giorgio. He set the sail.
He took the rudder; and a legion of gentle sweet-eyed angels softly fanned with
large white rustling wings, driving the boat, with a heron's speed, across the
sea.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "The council, summoned on pretence, sat many hours; and when the wise old men
had freed their minds of many words, Ser Giorgio spoke two, showing how any
enemy might be met, and crushed.
   "Suddenly, the king started, and he cried, `Behold, the angel-guardian of the
kingdom, who deigns to cheer us by a vision of his glory, that he may help us in
distress! Oh, come, let us adore and worship, giving thanks!' And he pointed to
a form resembling a mighty angel, which stood before them in the council-
chamber.
   "The king and his ignorant wise old councillors kneeled down; but Ser Giorgio
vehemently cried, `Here is no angel, but a fiend, O king! For I have often heard
that Sathanas has cunning by which he can transform his horrid shape into the
resemblance of an angel, deceiving many! Therefore, arise, O king, and you wise
councillors, and spit upon this cacodæmon!'
   "But the wicked king and his deceived councillors bade the bold knight to
favour his tongue, and let his elders know their duty, seeing that he was but a
boy of seventeen years. Also, they asked, by what signs such a youth as he could
surely tell whether this vision were an angel or a cacodæmon?
   "Ser Giorgio answered, `That I am but a lad, is true; yet, there have been
old men glad when some little child would lead them home; and to mere babes
wisdom is revealed, but hidden from the wise and prudent. And, for the signs by
which I know this fiend──my heart is pure, my eyes are keen, and clear, and
innocent of sin; therefore, humbly, I would dare to look, boldly, upon the
Vision of the Face of God in all the Immortal Splendour of His Majesty, Whose
high archangels are my friends, and my companions, every day; but, when I pierce
into the eyes of this infernal dæmon, he winces at my glance, and shifts his
own. Can a lad, as I am, cause the eyes of angels to flicker with fear? Also, he
stinks of sin. If you would see a proof──'
   "The candid boy lifted his hand, and waved the mystic sign of our salvation
right in the dæmon's face.
   "There was a flash of fire, a roar as of thunder, and darkness for a moment.
When the self-shut and blind eyes of the king and of his grave courtiers looked
again, Sathanas was gone; bare was the porphyry pavement where he lately stood.
   "Yet Sathanas is a foe who comes continually; and continually the christian
warrior fights to drive him back. And to those eyes which gazed on emptiness,
Sathanas, by magick art, appeared in angel form once more.
   "For guards, the king cried; and, at his signal, a band of armed soldiers
occupied the council-chamber, menacing Ser Giorgio, who, unmoved by any fear,
unflinchingly defied the dæmon, and his tool and slave, the king.
   "But that king, mindful of his oath to Sathanas, said, `O Ser Giorgio, you
speak blasphemy against the angel-guardian of our kingdom, meriting death. Yet,
seeing that you are a youth, and rash, also the slayer of the dragon, you shall
not die, if you consent to kneel, now, and worship this angel.'
   "Ser Giorgio looked upon the armed guards with scorn. To the king, he said no
word in his disdain. He raised his brave hand high, and waved the mystick sign
of our salvation in the dæmon's face.
   "Once more flashed fire: darkness followed an angry war of thunder: and
Sathanas was gone. But, in a moment, he showed himself again on that same
porphyry pavement where he stood before.
   "Then the king cried against Ser Giorgio, in his wrath, `It may be that you
have no fear of death, O youth; but think of your beloved mother──of your
beloved bride. And hear me swear that unless you will obey, and on your knees
adore this angel, I will have your blood, first; and, then, the blood of those
whom your dead arms cannot protect. More; for, before they die, outrage the
foulest shall defile them──your mother shall be mine; and your young bride──this
night, I'll fling her as a plaything to my slaves!'
   "Ser Giorgio neither blenched, nor faltered. The brave true-hearted boy shot
arrows of scathing scorn out from the blinding splendour of his eyes. He said,
`O wretched king, vain is your rage. My mother and my bride are in the hands of
God, where torment cannot touch them: and this I know; for San Rafaele
Arcangiolo holds them safe, who, with his angel legion, is their sure defence
against all evils with which Sathanas, your master, makes you menace them. To
me, your threats will bring eternal glory: my sons and my sons' sons will bear
my blazon through the ages when your very name's forgotten. And, therefore, I
undauntedly rejoice to die for my Lord and Leader, Jhesus Christ, and for His
rose-red cross.'
   "Here was a white-robed hero, always vigilant, faithful unto death,
dauntless, superb, indomitable, victorious. He lifted stainless hands and
fearless eyes to heaven, and he whispered, `Madonnina Mary, pray for me, that I
may win my belt and spurs of gold.'
   "Stung to fury by defeat so dire, the wicked king commanded, and the sword of
the carnifex struck off the head of the very noble knight, Sangiorgio, that
mighty champion invincible by land or sea, who slew the dæmon-dragon with his
strong right arm, who bears his blazon of the rose-red cross for evermore signed
on the silver of his shining shield, beside the sea of crystal near God's
throne, where Madonnina gave her paladin, the mantle woven on the looms of
heaven by angel-hands in spring from petals of forget-me-nots and lilies, the
martyr's sceptre all of golden palm, the hero's crown of amaranthine laurel, and
the belt and spurs of gold.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "The wicked king became a prey for dæmons. Worms fed on his living flesh,
while Sathanas ruled his kingdom.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "The Madonnina, painted on the chapel wall, and called the Sedes Sapientiæ,
would stay no longer in that dæmon-dominated land. She flew on angels' wings
across the sea; and, beyond those hills at Genazzano, is her shrine, where
angels hold her picture till this day, safe, and inviolate, in middle air.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Safely, with a heron's speed, across the sea, to this same shore, San
Rafaele Arcangiolo and his gentle sweet-eyed angel-legion, brought the little
swift-sailed boat. And, where the antient city of Ardea stands to-day,──city
which gave Sangiorgio's blazon and his illustrious progeny to Rome,──the mother
and the bride of the very noble knight, Sangiorgio, lived not many years, in
exile, by the sea; and then they both went home unto our Lord.

     "* Scuto Bonæ Voluntatis Tuæ: alleluia:
       Coronasti eum, Domine: alleluia:"

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "That, o chare puer," I exclaimed, "is an Epic which deserved declamation to
stringed instruments."

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   As I descended from the cart, I asked, "By the bye, Toto, what became of the
witch's head?"
   "Well, sir; briefly, this. San Rafaele Arcangiolo cut it up into little bits
like dice, covered them with fig-leaves, and gave them to Santignazio of Loyola
in a fig-basket. But I will tell you that history some other time."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

VIJ

WHY THE ROSE IS RED

BREAKFAST was ready, under the magnolia-tree. I like these late-spring
breakfasts in the sun.
   Guido and Ercole had executed a masterpiece in their simplicity, with three
great bowls of beaten brass, one in the middle to support my book, one each at
the opposite corners of the table, all filled with damask roses of the darkest
purple, fresh, and breathing liquid odours as of cloves celestial! I gave the
creatures compliments, and sat down to breakfast. Cocomeri ripieni, Port Salut,
olives, perfumed oranges, pitch-flavoured wine,──delicious!
   At the end, Guido and Ercole went away to fetch coffee. Toto, who had been
shedding his city clothes, and getting his breakfast, came and stood by the left
side of my table. I happened to reach for another mandarin, and I saw him with
the corner of my eye.
   Good gracious! The boy was livid, stiff and stark, convulsed with silent
rage. I never saw such a fury. But, of course, I took no notice. I was going to
have an emotion by and bye; and I became as demurely watchful as my yellow cat
Annia.
   When Guido and Ercole returned, I saw Toto's right fist clench till the
knuckles grew quite pale, and Guido let the coffee-pot fall onto the grass. Toto
snarled, "A──po──plex──y," in a turgid undertone.
   I dislike imprecations, and I said, "Sh;" while Guido ran to the house for
another pot of coffee.
   While I was sipping it, and using a cigarette, I made the following secret
observations:──
   (*) Guido, who is Toto's very delicately slim and agile little brother of
thirteen years, with the most beautiful white to his eyes like chrusoberul,
stood on the right side of my table, turned to alabaster, looking wildly on the
face of Toto, and with tears streaming down his cheeks;
   (*) Ercole──a lusty bronze Roman with the visage of Iuvenis Octavianus──
stood, a little behind and to the right of Guido, presenting an image of horror
of the unknown;
   (*) and, across the table, Toto glared like──the witch's head.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   I went to take a look round my studio.
   Toto followed, "Permission to forsake la sua eccellenza during ten minutes,"
he asked. I nodded forward. He tore away like one frantick. From the terrace, I
watched his tremendous legs stride headlong down the Via Livia to the city.
   I played about for a little by myself, and resolved to have a lazy hour doing
nothing at all.
   But here came a most shocking thing.
   In the studio there is a large glass door which opens upon a little terrace,
giving a lovely wide vista of the city below, then the Campagna, and beyond that
the sea, fourteen miles away. At the side of the terrace a stair leads down into
the garden.
   Darkening this doorway, Toto towered on high, with the hair of Guido in his
right hand, and the hair of Ercole in his left. He forced them down upon their
knees, and they wept piteously, and, antiphonally, they cried to me:──
   "V. Oh, pardon!"
   "R. Pardon!"
   "V. Ah, we did not know!"
   "R. We did not know!"
   "V. To la sua eccellenza, we wished to give pleasure!"
   "R. But it was our evil day!"
   "V. If la sua eccellenza would only believe!"
   "R. Oh, pardon!"
   "V. Pardon!"
   I became very angry. I am very cutting, in my rages. I said, "Go away, little
sillies!"
   They expected to be killed, I know. They were quite heart-broken, plainly.
They got up and went away. Toto was for following, but I recalled him. There was
a hideous bulge on his stomach. He had got some lump stowed away beneath his
shirt at his waist.
   "Beast," I said, "what is the meaning of this? What have those rudikopaide
done that you should make me such a scene?"
   "Sir, they repent; and they ask for pardon."
   "Oh, yes!──pardon!──But for what crime?──They've broken something.──I know
it!────"
   "No, sir. But for the insult."
   "Heaven be my aid and grant me final perseverance!" I cried, "what are you
driving at?"
   "The insult, sir; and they shall take their penance now;" he turned away,
looking positively rhadamanthine.
   "Toto!──Come back!──Don't dare to move!──Here, go to the throne, and pose──
like this!" I seized a little cast of the Hebe from Virinum in Carinthia and
shoved it forward, musing over the inscription incised on the front of the right
thigh, A. POPLICIVS. D. LANTIOC. TI. BARBIVS. Q. PL. TIBER.
   Then I shut the doors and attended to the lighting of the model. He threw his
vesture behind a screen, emerged, mounted the throne, considered the Hebe for a
minute, undulated deliciously, and stiffened into the pose,──a horrid one, but
one that served my purpose. I had my lion in a leash, and I began to fiddle with
a charcoal stick on a bit of brown paper.
   After ten minutes, I said, "Are you cold?"
   Toto stirred not from his stony stillness; but his answering voice proceeded
from a whisper to a roar, like this──

 crescen - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - do
    pp         p        f          ff
 "No, sir:"──"Hot:"──"Awful:"──"Burning."

   "You have taken a fever, my lad," I said; "driving over the Campagna last
night, I suppose." I went and felt his flesh. That was normal: also, his pulse.
   "No, sir; but the insult!"
   "Look here, Toto," I said; "if you will drop your beastly elliptical Latin
manner of leaving every important thing to my imagination, and will try to
express yourself like an Englishman for once, you will improve my temper. Dash
it all, boy, what do you mean?"
   "Sir, the insult!"
   "Per Cristo! What insult? Two words now!"
   "Sir, in the pip of an apple──the Roses!"
   "Well! And the Roses?"
   "They were Red, sir! Oh!" (with another roar) "they shall bleed,──those boar-
pigs,──they shall bleed!"
   "Silence!" I cried. "Come here!"
   He descended the throne, and came to me. Fauno Furibondo──that's what he was!
There was something of terrible in this boy. You could see his heart-beats. I
looked upon him with disgust.
   "Dress," I said.
   He retired behind the screen. I must chain this lion more securely.
   I made him kneel at my feet; and I took his throat in my two hands.
   "Now lend me both your ears," I said. I saw attention concentrated in his
eyes. "I think the Roses on my table to have been entirely exquisite.
Simpaticissime! I am pleased with those Roses. Understand?"
   He looked at me with unfeigned amazement; and, oh, how earnestly I watched
the changes in his expression!
   "I think Guido and Ercole to have very beautiful souls, or they could not
have invented so beautiful a decoration for my table."
   He thought me guilty of mockery. I saw anger in his glance; and I throttled
him a little.
   "Pax!" I said. "I mean what I say. I am delighted with those Roses."
   Two emotions coursed processionally through his eyes. First, penitent appeal.
Second, veneration.
   "Tell me, Toto; what is that under your shirt?"
   He put his hand into his bosom, and drew out a very nasty, coiled-up thing.
   "What is it?"
   "Sir, the sinew of a bullock."
   "Where did you get it?"
   "Sir, I ran down to the butcher for it."
   "What do you intend to do with it?"
   "Sir, I intend to flay the hides off Guido, my brother, and off Ercole of
Rome, in order to appease la sua eccellenza who is so deeply wounded by vinegar-
sons-of-wine that he has no words left wherewith to curse them."
   I throttled him again. "For putting Red Roses on my table?"
   "Yes, sir."
   Without speaking, I looked long through the eyes into the soul of this
amazing creature.
   Then, I said, "Toto, I am a child; a baby; knowing nothing. I must have a
teacher to make me understand.──What is the sin of Red Roses? Tell me."
   "Sir, it is the supreme insult, to offer Red Roses to an Englishman."
   "Why?"
   "Sir, the Red Rose is stained with blood──the blood of Holy Innocents.
Therefore, it is a badge of infamy."
   "Oh," I said. "Very well. And you are going to flay Guido and Ercole."
   "I am going to flay Guido and Ercole."
   I released his throat.
   "Toto mio," I said; "what good will those kids be to me without their skins?
I prefer to give them their penance myself."
   "Sir, if you will take that trouble, it will be better so. But, very humbly,
I ask you to forgive them also."
   "Yes, I forgive them freely." He bent down and kissed my ring. "Bring them to
the anti-camera, now; and treat them very, very kindly. If you make them unhappy
any more, I will kill you. Remember!"

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   Oh, such pathetick little abjects came in! Distressed ones, who, having
innocently insulted the lord whom they adored, only wished to die; for they had
forfeited his favour for ever; and their hearts were broken! What an emotion!
   I made the three boys sit down on stools. I was going to be impressive, and
so I sat on the high chair. I said, "Guido and Ercole, you have offered me an
insult: but you did it in innocence; and you are truly contrite. Is that so?"
   "Oh, sir, yes!"
   "Then listen. All through my life I have loved Red Roses. Therefore, you did
not offend me by putting Red Roses on my table. But now I have learned that an
Englishman ought to hate Red Roses, and not to love them. So I am converted, and
you must never offer me any more red roses."
   "No, sir, never, sir!"
   "Well then, you are forgiven. And because I like you to be happy, we will all
make an expedition to Velletri, to-morrow."
   "Oh, sir!"
   "And, for his penance, Toto, who committed the sin of anger because he wishes
me well, must tell us why the Red Rose is a badge of infamy."
   As though a tap had been turned on, Toto began to intone rhythmick cadences.
   "When the Padre Eterno made the world, He resolved to plant a garden; and He
sent one of the seven angels with a mete-yard of gold, to mark out a fine
situation by the river-side, where were gentle hills and dales.
   "He marked out this garden in the shape of a square, one thousand and five
hundred miles each way, enclosed by an impenetrable hawthorn bush, white and
pink, with flowers and fragrance on the inside, and piercing thorns without.
Round the four sides of the garden went this hawthorn bush, one hundred and
seventy-three cubits high, and one hundred and seventy-three cubits deep.
   "The Padre Eterno planted groves of trees, all in beautiful order: orange-
trees, and almond-trees, and apple-trees, and lemon-trees, and cherry-trees,
with the blossoms always on the one side, for pleasure to sight and smell; and
ripe fruit always on the other side for pleasure to the taste.
   "The hills He crowned with pine-forests; and He decked their slopes with
little olive-groves. Here were vineyards of white and purple grapes. There were
palms and poplars by the brooks. Along the pools, He placed osiers and willow-
trees and bulrushes for bordures: and He made great lawns of fine green grass as
soft as the fur of cats, where the young Lord Adamo might rest under shady
trees. Each lawn was surrounded by bushes of a different kind; and on each lawn
were different kinds of trees and different kinds of flowers. One lawn was
bordured by syringa-bushes and adorned with wall-flowers, and heliotrope, and
golden-rod. Another lawn was bordured by blue hydrangea bushes, and studded with
poppies and meadow-sweet. A third lawn was bordured by bushes of rosemary, and
ornamented with southernwood and lilies; and there were white peacocks, and
peacocks purple in their pride. Under the walnut-trees were hyacinths, under the
sycamore-trees were primroses, under the mulberry-trees were asphodels, under
the cedar-trees were forget-me-nots, under the chestnut-trees were daisies,
under the oak-trees were violets. On the pools, great white lilies floated; and,
at their marges, were iris and marigold, and moss.
   "Oh, a beautiful garden!
   "Yet the Padre Eterno was not content. What He had done was very good,
according to the Scripture; but it was not His best. He had not done His all:
and He wished for one more flower to be the queen of the garden. So, under the
oak-trees, He planted a thorn; and He starred the thorn with a bloom having five
petals, tender as wings of butterflies, white as the soul of a little child, and
having a heart of purest gold.
   "Then the Nine Quires of angels came singing through the garden; and, in a
blossom of magnolia, they collected odours from the lily, and the violet, and
the hyacinth, and thyme and wall-flower and orange-blossom and meadow-sweet and
southernwood and rosemary. And the Padre Eterno poured the perfume from the
magnolia-chalice over the new white flower, and called it Rosa Mystica. He
appointed the Sixth Quire of angels, that is to say, the Dominations, to guard
and tend it night and day.
   "These things having been done, the Padre Eterno put the young Lord Adamo
into His garden. And, in order that he might not be alone, He made him sleep:
and while he slept, He gently divided him in two pieces, a large one, and a
small, but each piece alive by itself though belonging to the other. The large
piece of the Lord Adamo was called Man; and the small piece was our Mother Eva,
who is Woman. But Sathanas, who always goes against Domeniddio in everything,
was very angry when he saw this; and he struggled with the Padre Eterno, to
prevent Him from dividing the Lord Adamo. And so the pieces came in different
shapes, being unevenly divided: there is more of man than of woman; and the one
always longs for the other; for, until they are joined together, neither the man
nor the woman is complete and perfect, as the Padre Eterno designed.
   "That was in the first hour. Then came the business of the animals; and, when
that was finished, the Lord Adamo and our Mother Eva walked in the beautiful
garden, tasted the fruit, admired the flowers, and loved each the other well
under shade of trees.
   "On the lawn of lilies there were two strange trees: the one a quince-tree
which was called the Tree of Wisdom; the other a tree of blood-red pomegranates,
which was called the Tree of Life. Who ate the fruit of one, knew all the wisdom
that the world has ever known or shall know. Who ate the fruit of the other,
became immortal like the gods. And the Padre Eterno had forbidden the Lord Adamo
and our Mother Eva to touch those trees, though they were free to use all the
rest of the garden at their will.
   "At the fifth hour the sun was in his strength, and the Lord Adamo left our
Mother Eva sleeping under the great quince-tree, and went down to the water-side
for coolness.
   "Sathanas saw his opportunity. He came into the garden shaped like a serpent
covered with green scales, having the head and bosom of a woman, black as the
pit. He coiled around the trunk of the quince-tree, and he whispered to our
Mother Eva, sleeping, while she thought it was a dream, advising her to eat the
quinces, and to gain wisdom.
   "At the sixth hour the Lord Adamo came up from the water, cool and fresh. He
could not see Sathanas, who was too cunning to let himself be caught by Man.
   "But our Mother Eva rose up in her sleep, and she mounted on a coil which the
serpent made for her, till she could reach the quinces in the tree. And, in her
dream, she plucked quinces, and she ate them; she gave quinces also to the Lord
Adamo, saying that they would make him wise; and, in his admiration, he ate them
too.
   "So, tempted and deceived by Sathanas, they disobeyed. Then, to the Lord
Adamo and to our Mother Eva, came wisdom in an overwhelming torrent. Every good
thing they had known before, and now they knew every bad thing as well, and they
had much fear (for knowledge brings fear), thinking of the anger of the Padre
Eterno when He should know their sin.
   "They wandered through the garden, hand in hand, weeping, weighted with all
the wisdom that all men have ever had or shall have. Also, they wept because
they knew that they had stripped themselves of the favour of the Padre Eterno,
and were naked and unarmed against Sathanas.
   "While they wandered weeping, the sun began to lose his power, and at the
seventh hour the Lord Adamo and our Mother Eva found themselves again upon the
lawn of lilies. But what a change! What ruin! And what horror! For the peacocks
had broken all the snow-white lily-blooms, and trampled down their slender
graceful stems, and all the serpent's trail was strewn with violets crushed and
dead.
   "Suddenly soft music from a distance floated through the trees, and the Lord
Adamo and our Mother Eva shivered with fear, knowing the Padre Eterno to be
walking in the garden, and they hid themselves in the bushes of rosemary.
   "Ah! who can hide from the Signor Iddio Onnisciente? Then, for their penance,
the Padre Eterno drove the Lord Adamo and our Mother Eva out into the wicked
world, and the garden of paradise faded like a dream.
   "But the angels of the Sixth Quire kneeled down and confessed, saying, `O
Padre Celeste e Domeniddio, we have sinned, and yet we know not how, for the
Rose which You deigned to give into our care has changed,──changed though we
never ceased to watch it,──white were all its flowers, white as the soul of a
little child, and behold, now, Maestà, some are as red as blood.'
   "The Padre Eterno answered: `* * * O DOMINATIONS, TO WHOSE CHARGE WE HAVE
GIVEN THE ROSE, YOU HAVE NO BLAME. SATHANAS HAS STAINED OUR GARDEN WITH SIN.
FOR, BY DISOBEDIENCE, MAN HAS GAINED WISDOM, AND WISDOM BRINGS SIN. AND THERE
SHALL BE MANY NATIONS OF THE MAN: THEY WILL BE WISE, AND THEY WILL SIN. AND THE
NATIONS WILL SEPARATE THEMSELVES THROUGH THE SIN OF ENVY; AND EACH NATION WILL
MARK ITSELF BY SOME SIGN THROUGH THE SIN OF PRIDE. ONE NATION WILL WEAR THE
VIOLET FOR ITS SIGN; AND THE VIOLETS WILL BE CRUSHED BY THE SERPENT OF DECEIT.
ANOTHER NATION WILL WEAR THE LILIES FOR ITS SIGN; AND THE PEACOCKS OF PRIDE WILL
TRAMPLE DOWN THE LILIES OF HUMILITY. AND YET ANOTHER NATION WILL WEAR THE ROSE
FOR ITS SIGN; AND CRUELTY WILL STAIN THE WEARERS OF THE ROSE. STRONG SHALL THEY
BE, AND SOME STRONG WITHOUT MERCY OR PITY. THEY WILL LIVE ON THE LIVES OF THE
WEAK, OR FEEBLE, WHOM THEY MAKE THEIR SLAVES; THEY WILL STAIN THE WHITENESS OF
THE ROSE WITH THE BLOOD OF INNOCENTS. YET, NOT ALL WILL SIN, FOR THOUGH SOME
WILL CHOOSE THE EVIL, MORE WILL CHOOSE THE GOOD, AND THERE REMAIN WHITE ROSES
FOR THE NATION WHICH WE SHALL CHOOSE TO CROWN WITH GLORY AND HONOUR, AND TO
WHICH WE SHALL GIVE DOMINION OVER THE WORKS OF OUR HANDS, BENEDICAT VOS
OMNIPOTENS DEUS * * * PATER * * * ET FILIUS * * * ET SPIRITUS SANCTUS.'
   "Then the garden of paradise was carried up to heaven, on the wings of the
Nine Quires of Angels. And, once in the life of every man an angel of the Sixth
Quire brings to him a White Rose for remembrance, that the mystery of its
fragrant purity may remind him of that lost garden where the gods are waiting
for him, if he wills to come."<Note>
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

VIIJ

ABOUT THE WITCH'S HEAD AND SANTIGNAZIO OF LOYOLA

RIDING along the road to Velletri, I reminded Toto that something remained to be
said to make a tidy ending for the tales of yesterday.
   "True, sir. Well then! When Sangiorgio had killed the dragon, as I have said,
San Rafaele Arcangiolo left him, and returned to his own place.
   "That prince had taken the head of the witch from Sangiorgio, because it was
not advisable to leave such a dreadful thing in the world. Also, it was a
trophy, a spoil, won from the enemy: and, when you have conquered your enemy, it
is right and proper to strip him of any weapons which he might use against you
at another time. What good would a victory be to you, if you left him those?
Therefore, if you be a man of peace, as every strong man is, be sure to disarm,
as well as to crush, your foe; for, only so, can you remove temptation from him,
and make certain peace secure. Well. And so San Rafaele Arcangiolo wrapped the
head of the witch in a rhubarb leaf and brought it into paradise.
   "He had not yet determined what he would do with it; for he considered that
it was his first duty to make a report to San Michele Arcangiolo, the Great
Prince commanding the armies of heaven, concerning the behaviour of the very
noble knight, Sangiorgio, in face of the Enemy. So after paying the usual visit
of compliment to La Sua Santita, Sampietro, at the gate, he walked across the
gardens, to the citadel where San Michele Arcangiolo keeps quarters.
   "It was about an hour after sunrise, by the dial; and San Michele Arcangiolo,
having finished breakfast, was engaged, with Santeligio, in looking over two
suits of arms which hung on the wall of his ante-chamber. They were the suit
which he had lent to Sangiorgio, and the suit which Santeligio had made to take
their place.
   "The god and the archangel fingered both the helmets: not a dint or bruise
sullied the shining metal, not a feather was feazed from the high curved crests.
They balanced the unsprung lance-shafts: not a flaw was found. They tried the
temper of the sword blades, looping point to hilt, and letting it fly back
straight and true. They tested the keenness of the edges, slashing at feathers
floating in the air, and cleaving them in twain. And San Michele Arcangiolo
said, `My compliments to you, O Santeligio. You are a master-armourer, indeed.'
   "Just then San Rafaele Arcangiolo entered. He was plainly bursting with
intelligence; and, having saluted, he cried. `Ah, well, my Lord Prince, that was
a good fight down there in the world! It would have done you good to see it; for
that stripling has shown himself to be a mighty man of valour. Your highness
remembers Davidde Re when he was yet young, before the Padre Eterno called him
to be king? Well! just such another as he, is the very noble knight Sangiorgio!
Without a shade of fear, strong as a young lion, ruthless as flint! Also pious!
Also wise! Knows his own mind! When he knew what was wanted, he made plans.
After he had determined on his course, nothing moved him from pursuing it. In
Africa, he slew the horrid witch. (I have her head, here, in this rhubarb leaf.)
Then he flew like a swift favonian wind across the sea, and killed Apollyon,
who, in the form of a dragon, was menacing his home. Yes, you, Altezza, would be
proud of that youth; as I am! We shall hear of him again, without a doubt! He
will do well!'
   "`But, the head of the witch?' San Michele said.
   "`Here,' San Rafaele Arcangiolo replied. `I thought it well to bring the
beastly thing away, for fear it should do more mischief down there.'
   "`Quite right,' San Michele Arcangiolo said. `It would become an occasio
proxima, for certain. And it is absurd, as well as sinful, to leave edged-tools
within the reach of fools and children. But what shall we do with it here?'
   "San Rafaele Arcangiolo suggested that they should hack it out of shape, and
chop it into little bits, so that it could never be recognised.
   "`Very good,' San Michele Arcangiolo said. `Pass me that sword, if you
please, Santeligio. Thank you. And will your highness take the other? So.'
   "`But what about Santeligio?' San Rafaele Arcangiolo said. `You, Lord Prince,
and I who speak, are inviolable, because, since our creation, our eyes have
always been immortal, but Santeligio was once a mortal goldsmith; and, perhaps,
it would not be good for him to see the horrid thing. We cannot do with any
stone gods up here; and Santeligio is such a superexcellent armourer that we
can't afford to take a risk of losing him!'
   "`Most certainly we cannot,' San Michele Arcangiolo agreed. He asked
Santeligio to be so good as to take a stroll in the court-yard, for a few
minutes, until the head of the horrid witch had been mangled beyond recognition.
So Santeligio went out to take the air; and the two archangels shut and barred
the door.
   "Then San Rafaele Arcangiolo shook the rhubarb leaf, and let the head of the
witch roll to the floor. He took up the golden-hilted sword which Sangiorgio had
used in Africa, while San Michele Arcangiolo grasped the new one: and the two
princes sliced and carved the bane into strips of flesh and bone, each strip
being about ten top-joints of thumb in length, and the breadth of a thumb-nail's
moon in depth and width. Then, they cut cross-wise, dividing the strips into
dice, measuring the breadth of a thumb-nail's moon each way; till nothing of the
head was left, except a heap of little bloody bits. San Michele Arcangiolo had
had figs to his breakfast, and the fig-basket was lying empty on the table;
therefore the archangels spooned up the bloody dice with their sword-blades,
till the floor was clean and the fig-basket full. They covered it with fig-
leaves, so that none of the bloody dice were seen; and they hid it in the folds
of a mail-shirt which hung in a cupboard of the room, and which was never likely
to be interfered with by any personage of other rank than archangel.
   "All these things having been accomplished satisfactorily, the world went
round and round in its usual manner; the Regno di Dio continued to be as it
alway has been, is, and ever shall be; and San Michele Arcangiolo and San
Rafaele Arcangiolo went on attending to their duties.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Now, after many hundred years, there was a foreigner. He was a soldier, a
galantuomo, and something of paino. In a war, he took a broken leg from a
cannon-ball; and a clumsy surgeon mended it so badly that the leg was alway
crooked. So the galantuomo caused it to be broken again, and mended again; for
he knew that ladies would not love him with a crooked leg. But it was of no use.
The leg never became straight. And the galantuomo, who was called Santignazio of
Loyola, had much anguish in his mind, as well as in his leg. And he found
himself to be so ugly that he hid, and pined away in secret, making himself
miserable and ill, because he could not be a soldier, galantuomo, and paino, any
more.
   "And, in his wretchedness, he gave his mind to pious thoughts; and, then,
Madonna showed him favour, saying that, if the other ladies did not like his
crooked leg, she had no objection to it; also, that, if he could not be a
soldier in the world, there was nothing to prevent him from being a soldier of
her Son, fighting His battle against Sathanas. And she spoke such heavenly words
to Santignazio of Loyola that he became a priest, and set himself to found a
Religion, in the manner of Beato Fra Francesco, and of Beato Fra Domenico, and
of Beato Padre Benedetto, and of Beato Padre Agostino; but, because he was a
fighting man by trade, he made his Religion on the model of an army, of which he
should be the general. He called it Compagnia di Gesù; and its business was to
wage war on Sathanas and his host, doing all the dangerous work which other
priests could not do. And Papa Farnese found the idea to be a good one; and He
blessed the Compagnia di Gesù and Santignazio of Loyola as well. These are the
Jesuits, sir; as you will know: and that was the beginning of them, quite
proper, and most respectable.
   "At the end of his life in the world, Santignazio of Loyola was allowed to
enter paradise. He wore a black habit with ferraiuola, like a secular priest;
and he carried a scroll on which was written an I * S in a glory with three
nails, and

                             AD MAIOREM DEI GLORIAM

and, round his thigh, he wore the chain of wire to pinch and prick him, and to
give him pain.
   "Sir, have you ever noticed that a Jesuit cannot sit in comfort, except on
the edge of a chair? Also, how he shifts his eyes, and jerks his legs? That is
because of the chain, sir, on his thigh. Oh, I know; for I have watched these
Jesuits talking to the ladies, sitting on this side and on that; twitching back
again, crossing and uncrossing their legs, and wriggling like quiet serpents
when they believed no one to be looking. And, once, I watched the bully, Padre
Cuni, go to bathe. He did not know that I saw. He thought himself to be alone;
and he undressed like that. But I was lying, with my soul, along the branch of a
tree, hidden in the leaves above his head. I watched him unfastening his buttons
and his tapes; and I saw him take the wire-chain off his thigh. He offered Deo
gratias, as he took it off; and there were red marks in the flesh, where it
pinched and pricked him. Oh, yes! I know many things! While he washed his head
and arms, I slipped down from my tree, and sneaked the chain, and fitted it on
my leg. Cristo di Dio! How it pinched! On the fat of the thigh, sir! It was as
though my leg were down the gullet of dæmon, sir; and his fangs nipping my
flesh, all hot and numb with angor; for my leg is rounder, and more spacious,
than the shrivelled leg of Padre Cuni: and the chain was tight──but, tight! Then
I climbed into my tree again, and watched the rusty crow come up from the lake,
to dress. When he put on the chain, he said, `Dio mio, I offer it up to you!'
And I laughed, sir────
   "Santignazio in paradise? Yes. Well then!
   "He did not make a blinding sensation there; though, of course, he is a very
great saint, and, no doubt, means well. He was not considered a dazzler, like
Beato Fra Francesco, for example. Indeed, he was hardly a success; because he
was unsociable, having an air of abstraction, never answering questions
directly; and the other gods were not quite certain how to take him.
   "You see, sir, this was the fact of the matter. Down here in the world, he
was the General. Also, the Black Pope. His commands had to be obeyed. When he
said to this Jesuit, `Do this;' the thing was done. When he said to that Jesuit,
`Go there;' the Jesuit went as though Sathanas rode him. Santignazio had almost
begun to regard himself as being indispensable down here; and he had much fear
lest, while he was in paradise, his Compagnia di Gesù should find itself like an
army without a leader, and upset all his little plans.
   "As though any one man was ever necessary anywhere, sir, while the Padre
Eterno sits upon His Great White Throne!
   "Having this silly notion in his mind, Santignazio of Loyola used to leave
the other gods in their content, and go away to a lonely place on the ramparts,
to nurse his dolour in his leisure time; and, during scores of years, he would
look down at his Jesuits in the world, being anxious to see how they behaved.
   "Sir, never cross a bridge until you reach it. Look for trouble, and trouble
you will see. Whether you look for it, or no, the Padre Eterno will send you
some; and that is for the health of your soul. But where is the benefit of
looking for trouble on your own account? I do not know; and, therefore, I cannot
say.
   "Well, then, Santignazio of Loyola made up his mind that the Compagnia di
Gesù was going to misbehave; and, so it misbehaved: and he took two troubles
instead of one; first, the fear of misbehaviour, second, the consequences of
misbehaviour. Which was absurd.
   "For, as soon as their first General had left them, the Jesuits said to
themselves, that, if the Compagnia di Gesù wished to become a power, the best
way to set about it was to get round the women and children: these being
secured, the men would follow, if only for the sake of peace, they said.
Therefore, they made schools everywhere; and they taught the children to be
sneaks. That is to say, they made the little ones look each for the faults of
others, and tell tales; and they wrote down all the tales in secret books; so
that they could alway know what kind of a child each boy, or man, or girl, or
woman, had been. Then, they taught the children that it was only a venial sin to
tell lies which excused themselves or their friends; and they did not teach them
that all wilful liars will burn in flames for ever and the day after. But they
gave the children lollipops and ribands; and the little fools pretended to be
perfectly happy, and to love their benefactors well.
   "Also, the Jesuits made themselves very agreeable to the women, especially to
those who were rich or powerful, giving them flattery, and oily compliments, or
the masterly bullying which women respect; and they looked not so severely upon
female sins, as did other priests or confessors. So the women of the world found
Jesuits to be most intelligent men of the world, and no difficulty at all to
deal with; also saintly; and they ran after them; and they used them for
confessors because they were smooth and easy-going; told them everything they
wished to know, more even than they told to their husbands or their lovers;
sneaked about other women's little weaknesses, and so on, and so on; until the
Jesuits knew so much that their heads were turned with pride and vanity, being
only human heads when all is said and done; and then, when they were giddy and
top-heavy, Sathanas saw his chance, and came along, and pushed a lot of them
over the precipice into──you know where.
   "Now, sir, a woman is a piece of the divel, fat and flaming,──you may see it
on the arras at Deira, if you do not believe me;──and the man who is rash enough
to play with those combustibles will burn his fingers. Look at me! Well, you
know all about me, sir! But then I am not a priest, nor even a sub-deacon like
Niccolo. And I know this, that, if I were a priest, I would no more have
anything to do with a mortal woman,──no, not the very holiest of them,──unless
the grating of my confessional barred her off from me, than I would fling the
Sacred Host to swine. I say that. I!
   "Well, then, let us return to the paino in paradise.
   "Santignazio of Loyola saw the mess and muddle which the Compagnia di Gesù
were making of his plans; and he was sharp enough to see that, unless something
could be done, the Jesuits would soon wither and die in the stench of evil fame.
He saw, plainly, that the spiritual weapons with which he had armed them for the
interminable conflict with the world, the flesh, and the divel, though good
enough in their way, were not suitable to this occasion; and he resolved to find
some better ones without delay.
   "Prayers, and the discipline, they had; a little, but not too much, fasting;
also, the vows, the chain of wire, and the Madonna of the Street. But, plainly,
something else was necessary. Oh, without a doubt! Well now; there was San
Michele Arcangiolo over there. A soldier. Yes. Surely he must have a lot of
spiritual armour lying about his quarters! Surely he could spare some little
thing! If it were only a feather! What better protection against the shafts of
Sathanas could the Jesuits have than the invulnerable plumage of an archangel!
The very thing!
   "Santignazio of Loyola left the ramparts, and limped in the direction of the
citadel, being determined to take the opinion, and the contributions, of the
Great Prince, San Michele Arcangiolo.
   "On his way across the greensward, he met San Rafaele Arcangiolo, who
inquired what ailed him: for his highness observed Santignazio of Loyola to have
something, more worrying than usual, on his mind.
   "The tale was told; and San Rafaele Arcangiolo declared, without any
hesitation, that, in a cupboard of the ante-chamber in the tower of San Michele
Arcangiolo, would be found a remedy which could not be more suitable if it had
been made on purpose. It had been hidden there for many years. There was no
particular use for it. In fact, they would be glad to get rid of it; and, if
Santignazio of Loyola cared to have it, he would be very welcome.
   "Saying these words, and others like them, San Rafaele Arcangiolo led the way
into the ante-chamber. From the folds of the mail-shirt which concealed it, he
took the fig-basket containing the head of the witch carved into little dice,
and covered with fig-leaves. He explained to Santignazio of Loyola what it was,
and what were its horrible powers; and he gave it to him to do what he pleased
with.
   "Santignazio of Loyola had much joy. He hardly knew whether he stood on his
head, or his heels, so great was his delight; and he rushed off, helter-skelter,
to the lonely station on the ramparts, from whence he had been regarding the
anticks of his Compagnia di Gesù.
   "At that moment, there chanced to be a chapter of Jesuits assembling in Rome;
and black robes long, and black robes short, filled the streets and clustered
round the Church of Gesù, precisely as you have seen a parliament of crows meet
in a meadow in the autumn.
   "Santignazio of Loyola waited while the mass of Santo Spirito was chanted,
and until the whole Compagnia di Gesù was gathered in the neighbouring convent,
closely packed together: and, then, he opened the fig-basket; and he cast down,
into the hearts of his Compagnia, the little bloody dice of the witch's head, in
countless thousands. Also, as the world went round and round beneath him, he
flung the little bloody dice of the witch's head into the hearts of Jesuits whom
he discovered in foreign lands; and, when no more dice remained, he threw the
fig-leaves, and the fig-basket torn into tiny shreds like relicks.
   "Whenever one of the little bloody dice of the witch's head touched the heart
of a Jesuit, that heart was turned to stone. It had no more the feelings of a
human heart. It could no longer pity, or love. It was as hard as stone.
   "It was stone.
   "They gathered together the fragments of the fig-basket, and mended it. It
was a fine pattern, they said, showy and capacious; and they had many copies of
it made, wherein much money was collected.
   "And the fig-leaves, in their shameless modesty, they used for statues, and
things.
   "Now, sir, you know why Jesuits are as they are.
   "Unable to love, unable to be loved.
   "Unable to pity, unable to be pitied.
   "Inhuman collectors!

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Not all like that? True, sir, not all. But more than many.
   "And you must remember three things. First, Santignazio of Loyola may have
missed his aim sometimes. Second, there have been one or two new Jesuits since
then. Third, the witch's head was only of a certain size, and there may not have
been enough of the little bloody dice to go round.
   "And a fourth thing to remember is this,──once upon a time there was a man
who sold his Master for thirty lire. He was called Giuda, cognominato Iscariote;
and he was one of the Apostles."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

VIIIJ

ABOUT SODOM, GOMORRAH, AND THE TWO ADMIRABLE JESUITS

"OF course not, sir. I have said the same again and again about the Cappuccini;
if you would only try to understand me. Why, there would be no Jesuits at all,
supposing that they were all of the species of those: for the Padre Eterno has a
singularly short, sharp way of dealing with things decayed and stinking. As long
as there is a grain──only a grain──of goodness in a person or thing, He is so
merciful that He will give it every opportunity to grow into two, or nineteen,
or seven and thirty grains. But, when the last grain of goodness goes, His Mercy
goes too; and He just wipes the altogether rotten bad worthless thing off the
face of the earth, all the same as Ilario, wiping a dish, wipes it, and turns it
upside down. It is finished.
   "Well, then, as long as ten good Jesuits or ten good Cappuccini remain in the
world, the Padre Eterno respects the Religion of Santignazio, or the Religion of
Matteo-Something-of-Low, for the sake of those ten.
   "Why ten? Well, sir; I will tell you out of the Sacred Scripture.
   "There was the Signor Patriarc' Abramo, a man entirely well thought of by the
Padre Eterno, Who deigned to ask Il Santissimo Salvatore to go down into the
world, attended by San Michele Arcangiolo and San Rafaele Arcangiolo, to take a
message to the Signor Patriarc' Abramo, and to accept his hospitality. That good
man was very pleased to see them; and gave them veal, minestra, lesso, arrosto,
e fritto, also pasta, also milk; everything of the very best which could be
cooked in half an hour. When they had finished eating, they delivered their
message: and, then, they brought the Signor Patriarc' Abramo to the ridge of the
hill on which his palace stood; and they showed him two cities on the distant
plains, asking whether he knew anything about them.
   "The Signor Patriarc' Abramo put down the two waxen torches which he carried
in honour of these Personages; and he answered that the cities were cities of
ill-fame, where the people gave themselves to luxuries.
   "Wherefore, Il Santissimo Salvatore said the angel-guardians of those people
had returned to paradise, bringing shocking reports, and saying that the place
was not a fit place for them; and the Padre Eterno had sent to know whether
things were as bad as that, intending to destroy those cities altogether.
   "Having said this, Il Santissimo Salvatore, attended by San Michele
Arcangiolo and San Rafaele Arcangiolo, gave an `A riveder La' to the Signor
Patriarc' Abramo, and went down the hill into the plain toward the wicked
cities.
   "But the Signor Patriarc' Abramo ran after them and stood in their way,
saying, `O Santissimo Salvatore, will You destroy the good as well as the
wicked? Perhaps there are a few good people there──just a little few! Are You
going to burn them with the sinners? Would that be a proper thing, O Eternal
judge?'
   "Il Santissimo Salvatore said that He would spare those cities of luxury, if
a handful of fifty good people could be found there; or five and forty, or
forty, or thirty, or twenty, or even ten.
   "But there were not even ten. Just a mere four. A man and three women; and
one of those a fool. And Il Santissimo went down, and brought them away in
safety, and then the Padre Eterno hurled lightnings like rain, and burned up the
wicked cities into pumice-stones and bitumen.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "So I say, that there must be at least ten good Jesuits, and ten good
Cappuccini alive in the world to-day; for, if there were less than ten, the
Padre Eterno would put the good ones into a stricter convent,──the Certosa, per
esempio,──and then destroy the said Religion of Santignazio and the said
Religion of Matteo-Something-of-Low, with a flash of fire, all the same as He
destroyed the wicked cities.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Well, sir, and I, who speak to you now,──I──Teodoro──know where two of the
ten good Jesuits are at this moment. The first is called Padre Ciangli, and he
lives in Rome. The second is a foreigner called Padre Francesè, and he also
lives in Rome. They are two of the ten who save the Campagnia di Gesù from
destruction by the holiness of their words and deeds.
   "It was Niccolo, my brother, who told me the history of them; and he knows,
because he is there.
   "He says that Papa Pecci has a wonderful love for the Collegio Romano,
desiring it to be the greatest college in the world. Therefore, He has made a
law that the professors who teach theology must teach it from a book called
Summa Theologia, which was written by a god called Santommasso many hundred
years ago. The Santo Padre will die for that book, says 'Cola; such is His
admiration for the same.
   "Santommasso was a son of Sandomenico; and the professors of the Collegio
Romano are sons of Santignazio of Loyola; and, says 'Cola, they dislike to teach
the theology of a rival who is their superior in sanctity as well as in
antiquity.
   "But, for all that, the Santo Padre must be obeyed; and, if those Jesuits
were to make any difficulties about teaching that Summa Theologia, says 'Cola,
Papa Pecci would just make a little stroke with His pen, and there would be no
more Jesuit professors at the Collegio Romano, but Benedictines wise as owls, or
Dominicans, brothers of that same Santommasso.
   "Therefore, says 'Cola, because they did not wish to lose their situations at
the Collegio Romano, the Jesuits resolved to make the best of a bad job, very
much against the grain, and teach the Summa Theologia of Santommasso; and they
did so, just as far as they found to be convenient, and no further.
   "Well, then, Padre Ciangli is a friend of Papa Pecci,──a very great friend
indeed, who has given Him good advice many times. You know, sir, that during
long years La Sua Santita has chosen to shut Himself up in His palace on the
Monte Vaticano, from which station He will not move on any account, not even
when it is Sol in Leone, and, of course, as long as He keeps Himself like that,
He can neither see with His own eyes, nor hear with His own ears; nor can He
surely know what goes on in the City and the world. He must trust to what other
people choose to tell Him. He knows Padre Ciangli to be a man of undeniable
probity. Therefore, He makes him speak of everything that happens outside the
Palazzo Vaticano.
   "One day, says 'Cola, Papa Pecci chanced to inquire how the Jesuits of the
Collegio Romano were doing with the Summa Theologia of Santommasso; and Padre
Ciangli answered that they were doing as well as could be expected under the
circumstances; for, he said, being Jesuits, with a theologia of their own, they
had to learn the Summa Theologia of Santommasso, before they could teach it; and
this was a very bitter pill, for which they thanked La Sua Santita.
   "And then he went on talking of all things and some others, and presently,
says 'Cola, he told Papa Pecci that there was a certain little Padre Francesè of
the Compagnia di Gesù, who knew the Summa Theologia of Santommasso by rote, from
egg to apple, and was altogether mad about it, rejecting all other species: for
which reason the Black Pope had put him away in an obscure little village, where
he had nothing to do but to say mass, baptise, catechise, confess, communicate,
marry, anoint, viaticate, and bury a matter of fifty rusticks, hoping, in this
way, to keep him from doing more than enough mischief with his madness for the
Summa Theologia of Santommasso.
   "When He heard this, says 'Cola, Papa Pecci took twelve large pinches of
snuff in honour of the Santi Apostoli; and He passed the box to Padre Ciangli,
chuckling as though His heart would break, so keen was His joy at hearing of a
Jesuit who nourished a devotion to the Summa Theologia of Santommasso, as vast,
as fervent as His Own. Also, He made Padre Ciangli go incontinent with a message
to the Black Pope, commanding this little Padre Francesè to be summoned to the
Palazzo Vaticano without delay, because the Santo Padre had an important thing
to say to him.
   "In course of time, Padre Francesè came to Rome from his foreign village; and
he was brought into the private cabinet of the Santo Padre on a Sunday, after
supper. He was speechless. He could only kneel down and weep, says 'Cola, so
profound was his humility; but Papa Pecci was very kind to him, and gave him a
good glass of red wine, and patted his hand, and made him sit on a stool, all
quite happy and comfortable; and He blessed him so many times, that, at last,
the good little Jesuit became less shy and timid; and then La Sua Santita was
free to pick his brains, and to find out how much he really knew of the Summa
Theologia of Santommasso.
   "Once started on his favourite subject, the diffidence of Padre Francesè fled
away; and he spoke words of wisdom with authority, as one who knows. Such grace
and charm was found in his discourse, that the Santo Padre sat as though
enchanted. All night La Sua Santita listened; for it was evident, says 'Cola,
that this little Jesuit was under the special protection of Santommasso, who had
deigned to show him all his god-like mind.
   "And the very next day, Padre Francesè was appointed by Brief, Professor of
Theology at the Collegio Romano.
   "Well, says 'Cola, that was all as it should be. But Padre Ciangli got into
the bad books of his superiors for bringing Padre Francesè to the notice of Papa
Pecci, and was ordered to confine himself to his cell in the convent at the
Gesù, as a punishment for chattering with unbridled tongue. Meanwhile, at the
Collegio Romano, there was the Brief. Nothing could be said against that. And
Padre Francesè ascended the chief pulpit, and lectured on the Summa Theologia of
Santommasso.
   "Now it was the habit of these Jesuits, says 'Cola, to teach the Summa
Theologia of Santommasso, just as Santommasso had written it, until they came to
a point where it differed from their own Theologia; and then they taught their
own Theologia, and neglected the Summa Theologia of Santommasso.
   "But very different was the behaviour of that dear Padre Francesè. He, says
'Cola, taught the Summa Theologia just as Santommasso had written it; and, when
he came to a point where it differed from the Jesuit Theologia, he just trampled
on the Jesuit Theologia, and taught the Summa Theologia of Santommasso; because
he had read his Brief, and he knew what Papa Pecci expected of him.
   "The superiors of the Collegio Romano thought him horrible. But, says 'Cola,
they knew him to be simplicity itself; and, in three days' time, they appointed
him Spiritual Father of the Collegio Romano; which means that he had to sit all
day, in a little room at the top of the stairs, to give advice to students
bringing him their confessions or spiritual difficulties; and, of course, while
he was doing that, he could not lecture, which, says 'Cola, was precisely what
they wanted. Jesuits are accustomed to sudden changes; and Padre Francesè was a
good Jesuit, so he obeyed his orders, while the old professors occupied the
pulpit of Theology, and affairs were as they were before Padre Francesè left his
foreign village.
   "So a week passed; and, says 'Cola, suddenly Papa Pecci remembered that He
had not received a visit from Padre Ciangli, for some time; and He sent a
flunkey-of-the-cloak-and-sword to fetch him.
   "`Where have you hidden yourself, carino, all this time?' Papa Pecci said.
   "`If you please, Santita, I've been naughty; and they gave me confinement to
my cell, by way of penance,' Padre Ciangli answered.
   "`Ah, bad one! At your age too! Oh, fy!──But what was your crime?' Papa Peeci
asked.
   "`Well, Santo Padre, if You must know, I told You about our Padre Francesè;
and they said I was a gossip and a chatterbox,' Padre Ciangli answered.
   "`But that's all nonsense!' Papa Pecci said. `Why you did Us a great service.
That dear Padre Francesè is a jewel──a treasure. We were delighted with him; and
We appointed him to be professor of theology in the Collegio Romano, We did. We
won't allow them to shut you up any more, Padre Ciangli. No. Certainly not. You
are far too valuable to Us. Yes, you are. Tell your father-rector that Leo,
Pater Patrum, XIIJ, commands you to come here every day till further notice. But
there,──perhaps it will be more civil if We write a little note to him. Paper?
Yes.──Pen? Ah, there.──Ink? Thank you.──Pounce?──Now then.'

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "And, says 'Cola, Papa Pecci wrote a little note, of a kind which prevented
Padre Ciangli from being shut up again.
   "When He had finished writing, Padre Ciangli said,──
   "`But, Santita, did n't I hear You say that You had appointed our Padre
Francesè to be professor of theology?'
   "`Utique,' Papa Pecci replied.
   "`Then when will he began to lecture?' Padre Ciangli asked.
   "`Naughty Padre Ciangli!' Papa Pecci said. `See what you have missed by being
confined to your cell. Why, Padre Francesè has been lecturing since Tuesday! To-
day is Saturday; and he will lecture again on Monday, We suppose.'
   "`Pardon me, Santo Padre,' Padre Ciangli said. `Padre Francesè lectured on
Tuesday, and on Wednesday, from eight o'clock till ten o'clock in the morning.
At noon on Wednesday, he was appointed Spiritual Father; and, since then, he has
purveyed spiritual direction and advice, in a little room at the top of the
stairs, while another one of our fathers has occupied the pulpit of theology.
Forgive me for contradicting You, Santo Padre; but, when one sees the Pope ill-
informed, one holds it to be a duty to make Him well-informed.'
   "`Hm-m-m,' Papa Pecci said. `Are you certain of your information, carino?'
   "`Perfectly certain, Santita,' Padre Ciangli answered.
   "`Ve-e-e-ry well!' Papa Pecci said. `Now this is some Jesuit trick; and We
are going to beat the bottom out of it. Just go outside, Padre Ciangli, and
bring to Us Monsignore del Lupo.'
   "So Padre Ciangli went and found Monsignore del Lupo, the Majordomo of the
Apostolic Palace (you remember the affair in the porch of the Fiorentini, sir?
Ha! Ha!), who, says 'Cola, is as clever and cunning a man as ever lived, subtile
as a serpent, and harmless as a kitten. And Papa Pecci told him to go to the
Collegio Romano, and say to the father-rector that La Sua Santita knew all his
little capers, and commanded him to take Padre Francesè from the situation of
Spiritual Father, which situation any used-up old fogey was competent to fill,
and to put him back again into the situation of professor of theology, which he
was to hold at the pleasure of the Sovereign Pontiff and of no less, and with
the strictest injunctions that he should preach the Summa Theologia of
Santommasso, the whole Summa Theologia of Santommasso, and nothing but the Summa
Theologia of Santommasso. Also, says 'Cola, Monsignore del Lupo was to say, that
Padre Francesè must come to the Palazzo Vaticano, every Sunday and Thursday, to
talk to the Santo Padre. And, lastly, the father-rector would be kind enough to
remember that, if La Sua Santita caught him at his games again, He intended to
send a couple of red hats to the Collegio Romano, one for Padre Francesè, and
one for Padre Ciangli, and to give them His Own title of Protector of the
Collegio Romano for the remainder of their lives; and, then, where would the
farther-rector be?
   "So now you know, sir, why my brother Niccolo (who is himself a student at
the Collegio Romano) is right when he boasts that bishops value the students of
that college before the students of any other university. You see they have
Padre Francesè there.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "But I have another little word to say about Padre Ciangli.
   "La sua eccellenza will know the Jesuits to be very fond of getting legacies,
──so fond, that they take no shame at touting for them; and they hang about the
dying for an opportunity of squeezing them. Of course it is a very good thing to
leave money for masses for your miserable soul, or for the poor. If you can
afford to do so; well. If not; it does not matter. But, of your own free-will,
you must give, without suggestion; for the Padre Eterno only listens to the man
who gives cheerfully. The good gifts are those which you give unasked; and a
gift obtained by begging counts to neither giver nor receiver.
   "Well, Padre Ciangli did not like to see his brother Jesuits touting for
legacies. Indeed, he did not want the Compagnia to be rich in money or in lands.
He thought they were better poor, like the fraticelli, for he remembered that Il
Santissimo was poor──but, poor! Therefore, this good Padre Ciangli laboured to
persuade the Jesuits, his brothers, to give up begging for legacies; and, when
he found that they persisted, in spite of all the beautiful words he said, he
did his best to discourage rich people from leaving their money to the Jesuits,
A very holy man, he was, in truth!
   "Now there was a Signor Inglese who lived in Rome. He was rich and grand as
the sun. He had no wife, nor child, nor any family, nor friend. The Jesuits soon
found him out, and behaved to him with the greatest politeness.
   "One morning, he was in perfect health. In the evening, he took a pernicious
fever. And on the third night, he lay a-dying.
   "The Jesuits wondered what would happen to his wealth; for they had not known
him long enough to talk to him about his testament.
   "They brought a notary, with ink, and pens, and parchment; and they clustered
round the dying man, ready to put in writing any words which he might choose to
say. He was raving in a delirium, shouting obscenities according to the custom
of all very holy persons in their fevers; but the doctor said that his senses
would be given to him again, at the moment before the grey angel cut the thread
which bound his body to his soul.
   "And so they waited, watching for a legacy.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Padre Ciangli heard of this; and he hurried to the palace of this Signor
Inglese as fast as his legs would carry him.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Just at the moment when he came into the room, the dying man became calm,
and demanded a suck of a citron. The doctor brought it.
   "One of the Jesuits made him a little bow, saying, `Sir, we are your good
friends from the Chiesa di Gesù; and you are going to die. Here is the notary;
and we are your good friends from the Chiesa di Gesù.'
   "The dying man exerted himself. He could only say, `All I have to the Chiesa
di Gesù.'
   "The notary wrote it, and put a pen in his hand, that he might sign the will.
   "He signed it.
   "As he wrote the last letter of his name, Padre Ciangli said very solemnly,
`What! All to the Son, and nothing to the Mother?'
   "The dying man wrote, after Gesù,──e Maria. And the grey angel cut the thread
there; and he died.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Sir, the Jesuits got no legacy that time; for the wealth of the Signor
Inglese went, according to his last testament, to the Chiesa di Gesù-e-Maria,
which is a church not belonging to the Jesuits at all, but to a religious Order
whose name I do not know.
   "And the Jesuits gnash their teeth at that delicious Padre Ciangli."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

X

ABOUT SOME KINGS

WHEN we arrived at Velletri, breakfast was prepared at a respectable albergo.
Vittorio and Otone, with Ercole, had ridden in advance to look after that, and
to get their food. These three attended to my wants; while Toto, and his brother
Guido, Ilario, and Desiderio took refreshment.
   Afterward, I slept for a couple of hours; and the boys went to amuse
themselves in the gardens of a palace having most wonderful marble stairs and
loggie, while Toto came with me, to wander about the city, and to look at the
girls. Several wore their hair in a pretty fashion,──curls drawn high in a mound
through a wreath of violets, from which a black lace veil flowed behind. I don't
know what Toto thought of them, because he was grave, and did not speak; but I
do know what they thought of him, because they said it out loud. It was not
singular.
   In a quiet back-street, I became transfixed. Over the doorway of a large
building, I saw a sculptured tablet which bore a coat-of-arms and an
inscription. The device was the royal blazon of England, with crown, supporters,
mottoes, all complete. The inscription taught me that this college was founded
by no less sublime a potentate than Henry VIIIJ; by the Grace of God and the
favour of the Apostolick See, of the sub-urban diocese, Cardinal-Bishop of the
Holy Roman Church, Vice-Chancellor; and, of Great Britain, France, and Ireland,
King, Defender of the Faith.
   I gave way to my emotions. And because I enjoyed them thoroughly, I imparted
them to Toto, at full length. He accepted them with the greatest gentleness;
saying, when I gave him a chance, that his grandfather had told him the
histories of that King, and of those others, having received the same from the
father of his father, whose sister had known the brother of the King whose name
was over that door, and who, himself, had had charge of a vineyard belonging to
that same Cardinal-King. Wherefore, he knew many things.
   I bade him cherish the things he knew until the evening; because I wished to
be alone with reminiscent thoughts inspired by my experience in that narrow
quiet back-street of Velletri.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   At the albergo, later, I drank a little wine and ate a piece of bread for
merenda: while Toto ran through the city to collect six of my seven divels: and,
before sunset, we started homeward. Ercole, with Otone and Vittorio, rode a
quarter of a mile in front; Desiderio, with Ilario and Guido, close behind; and
Toto on my left hand.
   When we smelt the open country, I gave leave; and he said,──
   "The father of the father of my grandfather spoke to him when he was a little
boy, and the father of my father spoke to me when I was a little boy; and he
told to me the histories which his father had told to him. That is what I am
telling to la sua eccellenza now.
   "Formerly, there was a king in England; and, in his youth, he had been a
sailor. Also christian.
   "Sailors have no cunning, being simple and honest. It is the sea which makes
them so. If you prefer men like that; well. If not; they offend you, and you go
away.
   "And, in those days, the people of England had the misfortune to be
hereticks. So, when this sailor became king, he wished to make his subjects
christian; and he gave orders.
   "But religion is one of those things which you cannot have by giving orders:
and the hereticks rebelled against their king. He was a sailor; honest, and
simple, as I have said. He could not understand why his orders should be
disobeyed. And he insisted all the more. But the hereticks were strong; and they
drove their king away into another country: and they took a heretick king to be
their governour.
   "The true king sent his son, called Giacomo, to fight and win his kingdom
back again, but the hereticks forced that prince to fly for his life to the
foreign country where his father kept his exile.
   "After a time that king died; and this Giacomo became the true king. He,
also, sent his son, called Carolo, to fight and win his kingdom back again, but
again, the hereticks prevailed, driving that prince back to his father, who
lived in Rome.
   "Then that king Giacomo died, and this prince Carolo became the true king of
England. But he was sad, heart-broken by failure, and there was no spirit left
in him. He also lived in Rome, instead of fighting for his right; and there he
gave himself to drunkenness and lechery.
   "When the false king in England heard of this, he said that, if king Carolo
could be kept like that, he would never be able to make himself unpleasant by
coming after his crown; and the false king sent hereticks to Rome, in secret,
with bags of gold, telling them to buy courtesans, and to convey these to the
true king Carolo, to cheer him, and to make him spend his whole life in
drunkenness and lechery; so that he might get a bad name among his friends, and
that news of his habits might be carried to the people of England, to make them
hate him for his wickedness, and never fight for him again.
   "Yet, sir, what true man will blame that unhappy king Carolo? Not I, for one;
nor the father of my father, nor the father of the father of that. I grieve for
that king; and, if I had been alive, I would have sat upon his doorstep until I
could have seen him, and then I would have cheered him, and have told him how
kings should comport themselves. But I curse the false king──you, also, sir?
What happiness! But I might have known that, even though you had not said a
single word. And it would be like carrying indulgences to Rome, for me to have
suggested such a thing. Sir, in truth, the false king was one of the bastards of
Sathanas, taking after his father. He was a Tempter, a proximate occasion of sin
to the true king Carolo. Therefore I curse him!"
   Toto reined up at the roadside, and spat scorching curses over a hedge at the
Elector of Hanover.
   "Well, sir, and those hereticks came into my province, looking for beautiful
women; and they kidnapped the wife of the grandfather of my grandfather, also
the sister of him; taking them to Rome, because they were more beautiful than
any women ever seen; and giving them, as courtesans, to king Carolo.
   "The sister escaped before he touched her, and ran away across the mountains
to her home. There she went into the convent where she died.
   "After two months the wife of the grandfather of my grandfather returned
also. She was ashamed. She came at night to her husband, like Pompilato in the
Credo, quite unfit for the society in which she found herself. She said that she
had sinned, because she was poor; and she had earned gold enough to buy many
vineyards, and she kneeled down to her husband, giving him the bag of gold, and
she prayed for pardon.
   "Sir, he loved her. And he remembered that Il Santissimo showed mercy to
Santamaria Maddalena, being truly contrite. He took his wife and the bag of
gold. He brought them to a deep pool of the river. He bade her to cast her sin
from her, with the bag of gold; and, when it sank into the dark water, he put
his arms round her, and kissed her, and took her for his wife again.
   "When her child was born, she died; but the boy lived; and he was the father
of the father of my father.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "When king Carolo died, they buried him in Rome, and because there were no
heirs of his body born in wedlock, Enrico his brother became the true king of
England. But this king was a bishop, and a cardinal-duke as well, and,
therefore, he did not want to make himself irregular by fighting for his
kingdom, shedding blood. He said that, in the sight of Him, with whose Sanction
kings do reign, he was the king of England,──and that was the truth.──But,
seeing that his people did not want him, being content with the heretick king
which they had chosen, he would never trouble them, nor wear his crown. But, all
the same, he maintained that he was their king; and so he called himself until
he died, and was buried with his brother and his father, kings both, in the
church of San Pietro on the Monte Vaticano; where you may see the tomb of these
three kings guarded by two grieved English boys in marble, and may read the
names and styles of them, engraved in fine letters at the order of the Santo
Padre.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Well, sir, it was told to this last Majesty of England about the grandfather
of my grandfather, and his wife and the boy, and the bag of gold. And the
Cardinal-King had him in honour, and deigned to give the largest vineyard of the
diocese into his charge, by which he lived in comfort all his life; and, also,
he saved money enough to buy a vineyard in his own province for the boy who was
the father of the father of my father. And there is my last word, sir. It is not
a story, but a history of a verity; and I have told it to la sua eccellenza as I
had it from the father of my father, who had it from the father of his own
father."

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   We rode at a quicker pace for some distance. I pondered over the strangeness
of things.
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XI

ABOUT PAPA FERRETTI AND THE BLEST HERESIARCH

I SAID that I could find no words in which to curse the turpitude of the false
king, who had robbed king Carolo of his crown, and blasted his reputation,
helping him to descend from his high estate, and to live, a monument of evil
fame, for endless ages.
   I said that the sins of king Carolo could not be named in comparison with
those of the false king.
   "No, sir," Toto said. "And there was no one to say a sharp word to that false
king. Sometimes, when a man is altogether wicked, or only stupidly wicked, the
Padre Eterno puts it into the mind of someone to go and say a word so sharp that
it cuts him clear away from his wickedness, or from his stupidity; and, then,
everything goes well. But, for the false king, there was no one.
   "Have I ever recited the case of the heresiarch who was corrected by a sharp
word from Papa Ferretti? No?
   "Well, then, behold an heresiarch who came to Rome. He had great fame in his
own country, being learned, and suave, and of an eloquence to make a cow
attentive. He was of a skinny little figure, with a pimping little face, having
uncertain eyes, and little tufts of white whisker in front of his ears. He wore,
at all times, a carnival-habit of black, with buttons all up his little legs,
and a black skirt like a ballerina, also a black coat of priest, and a
marvellous mitre, high, and round, and swelling, and polished, with a curly
brim, all black,──wherefore all the little ragamuffins ran after him, expecting
him to do tumbling, or other diverting tricks, in some piazza.
   "Because he was in Rome, he needs must do as the Romans do; and, by some
means or another, he was admitted to an audience of the Santo Padre.
   "Papa Ferretti treated him very kindly, allowing him to speak of many things;
but He saw him to be vain and insincere. Therefore He gave him words of wisdom,
and good advice, in the most courteous manner possible.
   "When the audience came to an end, that heresiarch, with his impertinence of
bronze, demanded that the Santo Padre should bestow His Benediction.
   "`But, Signore,' Papa Ferretti said, `how can We give you Our Benediction?'
   "The heresiarch answered Him, `Santità, do You not bless Your children?'
   "`Certainly We bless Our children,' Papa Ferretti said; `but you have not the
happiness of being one of those. How then can We bless you, as We bless them?'
   "The heresiarch answered that, having come to Rome, he would like to be able
to return to his own country, saying, that he had been honoured by the
Benediction of the Santo Padre. He was not particular about being blessed in the
form with which La Sua Santità blessed His children. But, surely, surely, he
might have a Benediction of some kind.
   "`Very well,' Papa Ferretti said; `kneel down, and We will bless you.'
   "The heresiarch kneeled down.
   "The Santo Padre waved the signs of the cross at him; and blessed him, as
though he were incense, using this form, * * * Ab Illo benedicaris in Cuius
Honore cremaberis."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XIJ

ABOUT THE LOVE WHICH IS DESIRE AND THE LOVE WHICH IS DIVINE

THE evening grew in glory as we rode, a sky all rose and lavender, with purple
hills floating in a mist of gold. A voluptuous sense of beauty, and serenity,
pervaded me.
   "Toto, tell me about Love," I said.
   "Sir, to serve you."
   He meditated during a minute.
   "The eyes of la sua eccellenza have seen Madonnina in many shapes. Among
these, you have seen her as a Mother, nursing her little Baby. That is joy. You
have seen her in a Pietà, with her Dead across her knees. That is Grief. And you
have seen her with her splendid Son standing by her throne, being of the age of
fourteen years. That is Love: and He is called Divinamore.
   "There is another amorino, who is sometimes mistaken for that One: but, in
reality, he is a dæmon; and he is called Desire. In appearance, they are the
same; in action, they are the same. But in effect they are not the same.
   "It is a matter of heart.
   "One or the other comes into your heart; and, there, he makes his home. It
depends on your own will, whether you admit him, or no. If you keep him out,
your heart withers away, till it might as well be the heart of a Jesuit. If you
admit Desire, you regret it afterward. If you admit Divinamore, you do the best
action of your life, and you are never sorry any more. Yet, it is a difficult
task to tell the one from the other, and to decide which shall be your guest;
unless you can persuade your angel-guardian to give you good advice. For, at
first, they come to you in the form of a little child, sweet, innocent, and
asking for a home. You take in this little child, and show him kindness; and he
returns your fondlings and your kisses and caresses, till you love him so that
you find you cannot do without him. In your heart, he grows to boyhood; and, on
the sly, when you are not looking, he makes weapons,──arrows, and a bow, like an
archer,──and wings bloom upon his arms, so that he may fly away, and leave you,
when the moment comes: but, of this, you have no knowledge. And, then, at last,
he gains his full strength; and he is vigorous, and terrible; and he arises in
his majesty; and, with his arrow, he wounds your heart, and strikes you down,
his victim and his slave.
   "When he has flown away, your heart burns, and craves a medicine to heal its
wound. And you search for this, holding out your hands, weeping, yearning, until
you find relief. And, only now, can you be certain of the god whose wound you
bear.
   "The wound itself is the desire for happiness. And, if the god, who gave it,
was Desire, then you will strive and struggle for the happiness of yourself, and
of yourself alone. But, if Divinamore has wounded you, then there must be
another beside yourself; and, for that other, you will gladly strive, gladly
suffer, gladly die, or very gladly live, which is the hardest thing of all.
   "Desire is Selfishness. Divinamore is Sacrifice."


(*) WHY CATS AND DOGS ALWAYS LITIGATE

"DESIRE makes you greedy for food, avaricious for money, or power, or houses, or
vineyards, or farms, and a lecher, hot with lust for women. Desire was the lord
of Giuda detto Iscariote, who sold his Master for thirty lire; of the prince in
antick times who fed his fishes with the flesh of living boys and girls, to
please his palate with their fine rich flavour; and he was the lord of Sathanas,
making him so proud that he rebelled against Domeniddio, striving to dethrone
Him, and to take His Closed Crown.
   "That was very long ago; and this was the manner of it. First, Sathanas was
Chief of the Second Quire, that is to say, of the archangels. And, one day, it
happened that the said Sathanas robbed the mirror which belonged to La Suprema
Maestà e Grandezza. Looking into that mirror, he saw his own reflection, all of
the most magnificent and noble, as you might expect. The more Sathanas looked,
the more splendid did he find himself.
   "Then came Desire, sweet and innocent, asking for a home.
   "After a few years, Desire had become a power; also, he had made his weapons:
and, at last, he let his arrow fly into the heart of Sathanas.
   "The wound itched, till Sathanas knew that nothing on earth could satisfy
him. Looking daily at his image in the mirror, it was easy to persuade himself
that his beauty deserved a better fate than that of being just the Chief
Archangel, and no more. After that, he took no rest until he had persuaded half
of the other angels and archangels to agree with him.
   "Then, with Desire, the terrible, always goading him, he laid a plot to drive
the Padre Eterno from His Throne: and, using bones, and stones, and other
enchantments, he took the shape of a dragon, many miles in length, and having a
hundred heads. In this guise, he came suddenly upon the Court of Heaven. There
was not time to beat him back, for he gave no warning.
   "But, in an instant, the Holy and August Personages changed their shapes into
the shapes of little creatures such as no one would suspect; and they hid in
caves under the holy mountain, till the time should come for dealing with
Sathanas as he deserved. The Padre Eterno took the shape of a white ram, as Lord
of the flock. Madonnina became a fish, in honour of her Son. San Michele
Arcangiolo became a raven, that grave and noble bird. San Gabriele Arcangiolo
took the shape of the heron which gave its name to the city of Ardea, in order
that he might fly swiftly as the messenger of the Padre Eterno. And, in like
manner, the others changed, as well.
   "But Desire, the terrible, drove the hundred-headed dragon, Sathanas; and he
came ramping round the holy mountain, hunting for his prey. He saw the heron;
but he did not know it to be San Gabriele Arcangiolo; and he passed on. He saw
the raven; but he did not know it to be San Michele Arcangiolo; and he passed
on. When he came near the white ram, he did a silly thing, for he knew not Who
it was; and he was passing on: but the Padre Eterno hurled lightnings at his
hundred heads, smiting him with thunder-bolts, till he was bruised and beaten
down.
   "Then, the Holy and August Personages resumed their Proper Shapes, hastening
back to heaven, and making preparations for a battle-royal.
   "First, that He might know His enemies from His friends, the Padre Eterno, by
an Act of Will, turned the rebel-angels and archangels black, and red, and
brown, and green; while the company of heaven shone all yellow-gold and silver-
white. To San Michele Arcangiolo, He gave the rank of general-in-chief, who led
his radiant army forward chaunting Quis ut Deus!
   "Now, when the Padre Eterno blasted Sathanas with lightnings, the fire of
them dried up the little brook where Madonnina was hiding in the form of a fish;
and, as a fish, without water, dies, she changed her shape again, taking the
appearance of a snow-white cat, gentle, superb, and gratia plena. Desire, the
terrible, marked this; and it made him think. He shook Sathanas to his senses,
and made him do away the dragon shape and form himself like a black dog. In an
instant it was done. Then Desire made Sathanas to know that the snow-white cat
was, possibly, a Personage; and that to capture her, and to keep her as an
hostage, might enable him to come to terms with the Padre Eterno,──perhaps,
even, to win that rank and power for which he had rebelled.
   "So, when the snow-white cat began to move away with dignity, and to ascend
the holy mountain, showing neither haste nor terror, the black dog barked with
fury, and hemmed her in. But she sprang upon a rock near by, and swelled her
tail, and arched her back, and spat upon him; and, being altogether most
terrific, she kept her foe at bay. When the black dog presumed to come too near,
she struck him in the face, and made him yowl. All that the fool could do was to
jump about and bark around her station, until his army should come to his
assistance.
   "Meanwhile, San Michele Arcangiolo made short work of the rebels. He drove
them out of heaven and chased them down the holy mountain. They resembled a
torrent, all black, and red, and brown, and green, flying before the
irresistible might of legions shining silver-white and yellow-gold. Squadron
after squadron of the rebels, in disorder, dashed by the little rock; too
terrified and too confused to listen to the frantic calls of Sathanas; until, at
last, the triumphant host of heaven swept along: and, then, the snow-white cat
sprang upward, changing into the glorious form of the Madonna. At this the
angels waited while they said their Salve Regina, and legions of them bore her,
on their wings, to her throne in heaven. Other legions continued in pursuit,
driving the black dog Sathanas, and his minions, to another mountain very far
away, where the earth opened to engulf them. There San Michele Arcangiolo took
Sathanas, in his own shape (which is the shape of an archangel but of a
different colour, being black, and red, and brown, and green, having a hundred
cubits of height, and wings not of feathers, but of skin like the wings of bats
and dragons), and he chained him in the lowest pit for a thousand years, with
the chain of Selfishness and Pride, which Desire had made him forge.
   "From these histories, la sua eccellenza will understand why cats and dogs
should always litigate. And, also, you will know about Desire, the sweet, the
sly, the terrible."


(*) ABOUT DIVINAMORE AND THE MAIDEN ANIMA

"ALTOGETHER another Personage is Divinamore.
   "He, also, comes to you, looking so sweet, so dear. He, also, grows to
boyhood, working secretly the while in the home which you have let Him make with
you. When His wings have blossomed, and His full strength is on Him, He, also,
lets His arrow fly into your heart, and makes Himself your Lord; giving you a
wound so dire that you must spend your life to ease its pain.
   "But, as the wound of Desire receives relief,──but never a cure,──when you
labour for yourself; so the wound of Divinamore can be made to cease from aching
only when you search for pain, and loss, and trouble for yourself, that some
other may have happiness. And, sir,──it is a strange thing to tell you this,
though it is the naked truth, for Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires said it,
and he is not a liar,──the more base, or treacherous, or unworthy, be the person
for whose happiness you labour; and the more anguish, or shame, you seek to take
upon your shoulders; so much the more will you win relief from the aching of the
wound of Divinamore.
   "Sir,──in two words,──

                              UNDER-GO, OVER-COME.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Now I will speak of Divinamore and of the maiden Anima; also of their
victory over Desire.
   "Anima was a little maiden, white as an almond, fresh as a young carnation.
She lived in the world, alone with her sisters.
   "Divinamore stood up there in paradise, near the throne of Madonnina. Serene
in the vigour of his youth, He was as beautiful as spring.
   "He looked upon the lovely maiden; and He wished her well.
   "Since she was a baby, He had watched her; and, one day, He saw Desire go and
ask her to give him lodging in her heart. She was only a little girl; and Desire
seemed only to be a little boy.
   "Divinamore saw Desire wind himself about her, till she yielded gladly to
him. He saw Desire grow potent, and prepare his weapons, while the maiden
bloomed. He saw Desire arise in his full length, and strike his arrow in her
heart. Then He knew that Anima must own Desire for her lord.
   "Divinamore became very sad; for He loved Anima, and wished to have her for
His own.
   "Wistfully He looked to His Mother for advice, being the Best of sons. Then,
Madonnina taught Him; and she spoke, and said, `My Son, only he can win the
maiden Anima whose heart is pierced by the arrow of Divinamore.'
   "Then He drew an arrow from His quiver; and He struck it deep in His Own
Heart, giving Himself the wound of Divinamore for the sake of the maiden Anima.
   "All day, His wound tormented Him: and, when the night was dark, He spread
His plumage, and descended swiftly, silently; and He came to the maiden Anima,
as she lay sleeping on her bed, dreaming dreams with which Desire had filled
her. And He took her in His arms, and whispered in her ear, saying that a god
was come to give her happiness, and to win her for His Own.
   "The maiden Anima heard Him. She was glad; for she longed for admiration
above all things. And, though she could not see Him, for the night was dark, she
had great happiness in the fragrance which He breathed, and in the godlike
loveliness of form which she could feel, and in the youthful ardour of His
embrace; but, chiefly, when she told herself that her beauty had made her the
beloved of a god.
   "Every night, for many nights, He held her in His arms; and she never saw
Him; for He always vanished before the break of day.
   "Every day, for many days, she longed for Him, because He gave her happiness.
   "And every night, for many nights, He prayed to her to be His Own true love.
   "Often she asked Him for His name; for she was proud at thinking that she had
a god for her lover, and she wished to tell her sisters of this honour.
   "But Divinamore answered that true love went hand in hand with perfect trust;
wherefore, she should trust Him, and never seek to know His name.
   "This gave her no content: in secret, she resolved to satisfy her longing.
   "There came a night when Divinamore lay sleeping by her side. She rose; and
went to fetch a lamp, that she might feast her eyes upon Him: for she did not
love Him truly, but only for the honour and the happiness she had of Him. Here
was selfishness, caused by the arrow of Desire.
   "And when she brought the lamp, she saw the Lad who lay upon her bed; and she
trembled very greatly, because she knew her Lover to be Divinamore Himself: and,
as she trembled, a little drop of oil fell upon His shoulder from the burning
lamp; and He awoke; and before her eyes, He vanished, going back to paradise,
because Anima had shown herself to be unworthy.
   "Then she wept, and moaned her loss, until her sisters ran to know the reason
of the noise. To whom Anima answered, that Divinamore had deigned to love her,
and to visit her by night in secret, but now He had deserted her, and for that
she wailed. But the envious sisters scoffed, saying that she lied; and, not
Divinamore, but some lewd hob, some stripling of the farmyard, was her lover.
Therefore they gave her blows, and drove her out into the world, calling her a
liar, and a wicked girl.
   "Desire was her lord. It was he who made her suffer. She thought only of
herself; and she longed for Divinamore to return, and give her happiness.
   "But Divinamore loved her truly: and, though He might not let her see Him,
nor grant her the happiness of His embraces, until that He had conquered her,
and had made her give Him perfect trust, yet the wound of His own heart forced
Him to resolve to labour alway for her welfare, to spare her pain, and that she
might gain happiness in another way.
   "And, as she wandered, homeless and forlorn, Divinamore went with her; and
she never saw Him.
   "By His Mother's throne, He left His quiver and His bow. He stripped Himself
of all His god-like panoply. He came into the world, in secret, to serve His
beloved Anima as her slave. When she climbed the rocks of the mountain, He went
before, lifting sharp stones from her path, until His arms were aching. When she
passed through forests, He thrust back thickets, and tore a road through thorny
briers, until His hands were bleeding. Across the streams, He laid His young
body for a bridge. He shielded her from storms, placing Himself between her and
the sting of blasting rain.
   "All the time, she was wailing to herself that it was not a fitting thing for
a maiden who had had the honour of the embraces of a god to be, as she was now,
homeless and forlorn. Surely this was not what she deserved, seeing that she was
not a common wench. So, by degrees, she forgot the happiness of her Lover's
arms, and longed for fortune and for fame.
   "Then, Divinamore led her, though she never knew He was her Leader, to a
distant country, where the people took her for the most beautiful maiden ever
seen, and worshipped her.
   "She could not speak their language; but she understood their gestures; and
she knew that they admired her loveliness. To herself, she said that here, at
last, was the place where fame and fortune would be found.
   "Divinamore remained in the outskirts of the crowd, where Anima could not see
Him. Swiftly, He went from one man to another; and, as He passed, He whispered,
in each ear, that the maiden was fit to be a queen. And, as the whisper dropped
into each ear, men turned to view the whisperer; and they saw no one but a Lad,
Whose delicate skin was tanned by sun and rain, and blue with bruises, Whose
hands and feet were sore through travel and toil. They could not think that He
had said those words: and they took them for a sudden thought, and not a voice.
They shouldered Him aside. He fell beneath their feet. They trampled on His
weary limbs. But, anon, He raised Himself, and went on, unabashed, whispering
that Anima was fit to be a queen.
   "At last, they caught Him in the act; and they demanded who He was that dared
to speak of Anima.
   "He said, `I am called Divinamore; and I love her.'
   "They mocked Him for a fool, asking what might be the measure of His Love?
   "He said, `I love the maiden Anima more than I love Myself.'
   "They jeered at Him, spitting in His face, and beating Him upon His breast.
Unwilling tears streamed from His lovely eyes. His flesh quivered in agony. But
He did not quail.
   "They dragged Him to the middle of the crowd; and thrust Him face to face
with Anima; to whom they bowed respectfully, making signs to ask whether she
knew the Lad.
   "But Anima perceived that she was held in honour; and Desire, her lord, made
her happy in this honour, desiring continuance of the same. Therefore, when she
saw the Lover, Whose arms had once embraced her, in His sorry plight, she was
ashamed of Him; and she threw her head backward, denying that He was anything to
her.
   "But Divinamore cried, undauntedly, that Anima was fit to be a queen; for He
knew her thoughts: and He had bound Himself to serve her at all costs, by reason
of the arrow in His heart, which made Him choose to suffer, if that only He
might win happiness for His beloved.
   "`Give her a royal robe,' He cried, `a crown, a sceptre, and a throne.'
   "For His persistency, they beat Him on His breast and back, tearing His
tender flesh, until eight rods were broken. Into His forehead, they thrust
eleven sharp spikes of barberry. But He cried the louder, `Give her a royal
robe, a crown, a sceptre, and a throne.'
   "They tried to test the measure of His love, saying, `If that You love the
maiden Anima more than You love Yourself, what will You sacrifice that we should
crown her queen?'
   "Instantly, He answered, `A limb for every sign of sovereignty.'
   "Then, with great respect and honour, they led the maiden Anima to the
palace; and there they dragged the Lad who claimed to love her.
   "In the doorway, they felled Him to the ground. Her lord, Desire, filled
Anima with pride; so that she trod upon the crushed and broken body which,
formerly, had been her joy.
   "They made the Lad stand up; and they signed to Anima that she should mount
the throne. She ascended the steps, and took her seat. They nailed the right
foot of Divinamore to the threshold.
   "They placed a crown upon the head of Anima. They nailed the left foot of
Divinamore to the threshold.
   "They placed a sceptre in the hand of Anima. They made Divinamore stretch His
right hand straight and high; and they nailed it to the lintel.
   "They robed Anima in royal robes, woven from the wings of butterflies. They
made Divinamore stretch His left hand straight and high; and they nailed it to
the lintel.
   "Anima sat as queen.
   "She saw the Victim, who had sacrificed Himself to give her glory, strained
stiff, as on a rack, before her eyes; His hands and feet transfixed by nails,
His brows bleeding at eleven wounds, His body torn by eight rods, and his Heart
pierced by the arrow of true love.
   "Divinamore was come to the end of His pilgrimage. He had given, to His
beloved, the happiness that she craved. He had reached the threshold of His
love's abode. From that threshold, His eyes fed upon her beauty. And, there,
nails held Him fast.
   "But Anima was a crowned queen, and, in her heart, were happiness and pride.
   "Madonnina in paradise looked at her with anger. She seized the quiver and
the bow, which Divinamore had left beside her throne. She fitted an arrow on the
string. She shot at the proud heart of Anima.
   "So sure was her aim, so swiftly did the happy arrow fly, mindful of its
errand, that it cleaved its way into the very wound which, formerly, Desire had
made. There, it purged the maiden's heart from every taint of selfishness which
had held her in bondage to Desire.
   "And behold a marvel!
   "For now the heart of Anima was pierced by the arrow of true love; and now
she had no happiness in regal state, purchased with so dear a price. She only
longed to suffer for Divinamore.
   "She left her throne, and ran to Him. She prayed that He would say what she
must do to ease His pain.
   "He looked upon her with dimmed eyes. His body drooped in languor. He was
dying.
   "She was kneeling at His feet; but He could not raise her: for nails held His
hands.
   "He murmured that He gladly bore the torment of His wounds, if that they gave
her happiness.
   "But she said that she would not see Him suffer; and that she wished to cast
away her royalty, to set Him free.
   "She said that the nail in His right foot had bought her throne; but she
would not have it at that price. She stooped down, and drew out the nail.
   "She said that the nail in His left foot had bought her crown; and she cast
away the crown. She stooped down, and drew out the nail.
   "She said that the nail in His right hand had bought her sceptre; and she
cast away the sceptre. And, having raised herself, she drew out the nail.
   "She said that the nail in His left hand had bought her royal robes, woven
from the wings of butterflies; and she cast away the robes. And, having raised
herself, she drew out the nail.
   "So she renounced her royalty.
   "She had nothing, now, which she could offer to Divinamore, except herself,
and her true love. She wondered whether He would consider these to be worthy
gifts.
   "She hid her face in her hands.
   "In her shame, she trembled.
   "She did not dare to hope.
   "She feared that He could never love her any more, seeing how that she had
made Him suffer. But she waited: and, with her tears and kisses, she healed the
wounds of the nails, the bruises of the rods, the gashes on His brow.
   "Divinamore was free. The vigour of His youth returned.
   "In His arms, He took His beloved Anima. She felt Him burn, she saw Him
shine, with true love.
   "The royal robes, woven from wings of butterflies, which she had cast away,
were lying at her feet. Her Lover signed the cross upon them. The butterflies,
who had given their earthly plumage for those robes, came back from paradise;
and, on their radiant wings, Divinamore and the maiden Anima ascended from the
world.
   "Before the throne of Madonnina the maiden kneeled; and she prayed for
pardon, to the mother, for the sufferings of the Son.
   "But Divinamore raised her.
   "She flung herself into the furnace of His love. And in that fervent heat,
she changed into a butterfly having wings as white and fragrant as an evening
lily.
   "And Divinamore wears her on His heart, for ever, as His Own true love."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

                                     SUMMER

                    AEstate, pueri
                    si valent, satis
                    discunt.
                                  MART.

XIIJ

ABOUT DOING LITTLE, LAVISHLY

IN early summer, at the very beginning of my explorations along the eastern
coast, something happened to rouse me from that lethargy into which
temperamental indolence had let me slip, after my life's great disappointment.
   For three weeks, I have been busier than any seven and thirty bees;
thoroughly enjoying toil. Allowed to consume latent energy, I taste relief.
   In this walled-city of 3016 souls,──I will never give its name, lest puny
tourists, having no necks, should come to mar its quaint and dignified
simplicity with bicycles, curved spines, and chequered stockings on gross legs,
──the clergy are persons of extreme discrimination. Observing something of
capability, they had the wisdom, and the grace, to give it scope. Therefore they
merit admiration.
   The matter has been the designing of an ecclesiastical procession. That
service is performed here every year on the Festival of Corpus Domini; and, this
year, finding me, with my assistants, staying in this wonderful little walled-
city,──I will never give its name,──and hiding a talent under a bushel of
misanthropy, the clergy had compassion.
   It was Monsignore Argo Ermogene who began civilities. Having seen me with my
seven divels daily, at the mass of dawn, this White Son of Hermes paid prompt
visits to his new parishioners. I found him to be simpaticissimo; first, because
of the angelick beauty of his gentle eyes and the rose-leaf delicate mobility of
his thin lips; secondly, because he recognised the singular perfections of my
creatures, their serene reserved nobility of port, their bright gravity of
regard, and the antick breeding of their mien. He was one of the few brave souls
who are not afraid to honour their Creator by frank admiration of His noblest
works. And, when he had discovered of what unhappy species was the man to whom
he spoke,──a man who hates, loves, and excruciates, sick of forced aseity,──this
diplomatick prelate treated of things ecclesiastical, in general, and of the
Infiorata of──let us say Città Senzanome,──in particular. Lastly, he asked me,
point-blank, would I lend my boys, and design the pageant of the year?
   So, for three weeks, I have been utterly happy in being useful: and, to-
night, my procession has passed in the beauty of holiness from the Duomo, up the
steep street of the Angels to the antient Church of The Four Holy Crowned Ones,
through the Gate of the Seven Sleepers, to the Convent of Friars Minor, along
the Avenue of Cypresses, and by the Gate of Santa Sumforosa to the Dominican
House in the Street of the Seven Martyred Sons; thence, returning to the Duomo:
──a matter of a mile, covered in two hours of bliss beyond all expression (to
me).
   I could not do much. I am aware of some of my limitations. I attempted
little; but I reserved no cache of wit or gold, nor avid energy of soul or
sinew, to give perfection to that little. I knew myself to be the very last
person in all the world likely to satisfy Il Santissimo, or His worshippers.
Yet, for this very reason, I grasped the opportunity of exemplifying the
proverb, E**** ******** *o*** *** **** ** *****.
   Three weeks ago, I chose beautiful children from the schools, youths and
maids, men and women, from trade-guilds and confraternities, six handsome
courteous young officers from the citadel. To each, I gave the character of some
god, some angel, with raiment and emblems proper to their estate. It was not an
occasion for using ancient frumpery. I wanted all things new: and, having drawn
designs, chosen textures, and cut out antick garments in accord with knowledge
gained from minute secret study, I had them made. I rushed away across Apulia to
Rome; where I bought jewels; and gilded rosy discs embossed upon the rims with
godlike names, for haloes; and also wings──real large wings──to spring from and
to cover with feathery plumage the backs of boys, and to grace their waving
arms, so that they might float along the way with the lightsome gait of God His
birds. I took nothing that I found. I drew designs, and had them made.
   A procession is not a snake of frowsy nobodies huddled in couples, who scurry
nervously, shamefacedly, impudently, along the middle of the road, unblushingly
whining through their noses, to the Omniscient, disgraceful ditties.<Note>
   A procession is a visible act of worship, and demands display. Also, Holy
Mother Church ordains liturgical hymns of splendour incomparable──unsurpassable.
Therefore, I displayed a dignified procession on both sides of the street, with
recognisable living effigies of renowned personages, who chaunted Pange Lingua
without end. Each subject was separate from the others; each group displayed
alone, coming slowly and with imposing gravity, along the wide bare strips of
road-side, leaving clear the open decorated middle. On the foot-pace, citizens
knelt in crowds or at windows, gay with arras and verdure. Straight lines of
lanthorns stretched across the streets, to aid the sunset and the stars,
──straight lines, uncrossed, without the degradation of a foul festoon.
   Last night, all instructions had been learned, all rehearsals finished; and
this wonderful little walled-city gave itself a cleansing so complete that no
conception of its scope can be formed by cold Northerners who soap in daily
tubs. Wells and the waterfall yielded liquid purity to lave the streets. Under
rocks, beyond the walls, the river whitened with the merriment of scrubbed
swimmers. And in the Duomo and Santi Quattro Coronati, souls were purged by
penance. At Ave Maria, bullock-carts came in from all the country-side, loaded
high with greenery, and stacks of wild-flowers, and the spoil of gardens.
Through the short night these were sorted by their colours. At dawn, traffick
being stopped, an artigiano drew in chalk, upon the road, armorials, ten cubits
in width on diapered fields with bordures. After mass, citizens filled these
designs with petals of appropriate hue, and foliage, well watered, working all
the day; and, at sunset, there was a carpet of flowers, twenty cubits wide and a
mile long, laid up the middle of the streets, on which, yet undefiled by any
foot, borne by His priest, the Maker of the flowers should deign to go. This is
the carpet, famed throughout Apulia, which gives its name to the Festival of
Corpus Dominj in this walled-city,──the Infiorata of Città Senzanome. I have not
the happiness of any share in that. The procession alone was of my small design.
   At Ave Maria, bells clanged, and cannon boomed; and the procession left the
Duomo.
   In the centre (not at the end), Monsignore Argo Ermogene, attended by
arcidiaconi, bore the Host in an ostensorium, beneath a canopy whose six poles
were supported by six warrior-saints, each in his proper mail: to wit, San
Giorgio, argent, a cross potent gules; and San Maurizio, gules, a cross potent
argent; San Vittorio, azure, a cross potent or; and Sant' Esuperio, vert, a
cross potent or; San Martino, gules, a cross potent or; and San Teodoro, or, a
cross potent gules. All round and round the canopy went a guard of angels,
floating to and fro on winged arms──twelve youths playing Pange Lingua on
majestick twenty-four-stringed arciliuti, and twenty boys who carried lamps, or
offered incense, or scattered flowers.
   In front of these came those of the company of heaven who are patrons of the
city:──On the left, Santa Sumforosa and her Seven Martyred Sons, San Primitive,
San Giustino, San Crescenzio, San Giuliano, San Nemesio, San Stacteo, Sant'
Eugenio, waving palms and wearing tunicks, white with a stripe of purple, and
purple-strapped sandals:──On the right, my seven boys, presenting the Seven
Sleepers, Children of Light, San Massimiano, San Martiniano, San Costantino, San
Dionusio, San Giovannino, San Serapione, San Giamblicho, each in a silken kithon
of white from knee to shoulder, open on the right, girded with golden girdles,
their listless heads low, garlanded with white poppies, carrying palm-plumes and
white poppy sheaves.
   In front of these:──On the left, the Four Holy Crowned Ones, San Severo, San
Severiano, San Carpofero, San Victorino, each in a toga of vermilion dye,
diademed with parsley, and bearing palms:──On the right, San Paolo with his
sword and palm, San Pietro with his palm and keys. All these wore haloes, which
marked their state.
   In front of these, came the confraternities of Sangue Preciossissimo, in
white and red; of Santo Spirito, in parti-coloured red and yellow; of Madonna,
in white and blue; of Buona Morte, in black; all with liripiped hoods, and
hanging escalloped sleeves. They bore banners, bannerols, and standards.
Brothers and Sisters of the Third Orders went before them, in habits, grey, or
white and black; and were, in turn, preceded by the regimental band of
Bersaglierj playing Pange Lingua, and by the crucifers and thurifers of the
Duomo and of Santi Quattro Coronati.
   After the angels round the canopy of the Host, glided pale sisters of the
poor with tapers. Then went a crowd of clergy, friars and monks in holy habits,
seculars in copes, escorting the Lord Archbishop, and chanting Pange Lingua
without end. As the procession passed, the citizens rose from their knees, and
followed in serried ranks behind the Signor Sindaco and his counsellors.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   I watched the pageant wind along the ways. After the last Benediction, the
city has given itself to fire-works, and to dance, and song; while I have
entertained my Seven Sleepers, in their habits as they lived, to a supper in the
garden. They were very wide-awake now; and tired,──but, tired! Natheless, merry
to the hair of their curly heads, and rightfully: for, in truth, when one has
done fine things, one may not think of hell.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   In the starlight, young eyes glittered, and white teeth gleamed on peaches.
Never was complex crescentine beauty so discreetly manifested, as in this dim
garden, where black cypress soars into the eternal star-sown blue, furnishing
grey-green lawns with outlines, indefinite, mysterious, with infinite,
imperscrutable distances. Against the retirement of this back-ground, the long
contours of limbs, of old ivory, or having the transparent nacreous pallor of
the flesh of turbot, and the modelling of supple forms, accented by clinging of
silk, or revealed by a kithon's falling folds, undulated in inconstant curves.
   I watched the Seven very vigilant Sleepers eat and drink their fill;
indulging, for once, in commensation, to avoid the seven and thirty painful
sensations which are experienced in the teeth of one who looks on while others
eat. With the effort of giving the boys the unusual treat of a cigarette apiece,
I became alert enough to listen to their chatter. It is one of the greatest
intellectual luxuries, in all this banal world, to listen to the enjoyment of
delightful youth wearing its crown of gold, to the natural conversation of well-
conditioned boys, naif savages who live under a discipline of rigour mitigated
by sundry hours of freedom utter and entire. At least, that is my present
opinion, which I trust may be unchanged when I am permitted to grow older and
wiser.
   Toto distributed cigarettes, and returned with the box. He strewed himself on
the grass by my chair, and put his chin on his hands, looking up at me to read
thoughts, to anticipate desires. I was silent and dark to him.
   "I find this antick garment to be convenient enough, sir. Why don't we wear
such things now?" he said.
   "Shows too much of you," I answered.
   "That is a thorn thrust into my eyes, sir: I did not know that there was too
much of me," he said, with pique.
   "Not for me," I hastened to explain, "but for people of a kind."
   "Yes. There are some fools," he meditated. "Then the garments are useless,
sir? It is a pity; for they must have cost a bag of money. May I know, sir?"
   I said that the silk was chinese of the finest; and that one had to pay for
fine things.
   "You have spent many bags of money, sir?"
   I agreed. And frowned when I thought about them.
   "Too many, sir?"
   "No. Of course not. Not too many; but many. And there will be no more for the
present," I said.
   He nipped the lighted end from his cigarette, and laid the remainder by.
   "Then, sir, let us wear these garments inside your walls, and in the country
where fools are few. So we shall need no new clothes, nor shall we ruin you
until you get some money."
   I laughed. "No pockets in a kithon," I said.
   "Pockets, sir? Why, here is the very finest pocket that I have ever seen!" He
sat up, and thrust hand and arm into his bosom, through the open right-side of
the kithon. "Can you put all your arm into any of your pockets, sir? No, indeed.
But I can into this one; and the belt keeps all secure. The handkerchief-of-my-
nose has been there all night, sir; and, if I draw the buckle a little tighter,
I could even keep my small cigarette quite safely. Look, sir!" He rose on his
knees, and tightened the strap with judged moderation, high round the flexible
flatness of his waist. "Oh yes, sir. Do let us wear these garments, sir; ah,
now, do!"
   Toto, like this, was irresistible,──irresistible as an Irish girl.
   "Then, sir, we will return these periapts before they take a damage." (These
were little gold bullæ, hollow balls of about the circumference of a florin. The
lower half unscrewed, and would serve as a receptacle for some tiny treasure.
They were worn on a slim gold chain round the neck, hidden in the breast of the
kithon. I copied them from a genuine example of century IJ. *.*.; and had them
made.)
   "No," I said. "I have caused your names to be cut on them, with my raven; and
all of you are to keep them for remembrance."
   "For remembrance of what, sir?"
   "To pray for the giver."
   He took the jewel from his throat, and handed it to me, standing very stiff
and stark.
   "Beast," I cried, "then you won't pray?"
   "I want nothing to remind me of my pleasures," he said.
   "Urchin of distraction!" I ejaculated. "Then take it as a reward for behaving
like a very good boy. And speak to the others for me."
   "Many thanks, sir." He lowered his lips and kissed my ring. Then he turned.
"Attention!" he cried. Half a dozen limber youngsters froze into rigid marble
statues in the cypress shades. "Don Friderico is so gracious as to make us
presents of these golden periapts, in reward for good behaviour. In return, we
promise to recite Ave Maria, and the rest, three times every night and morning
for his intention. Who ever forgets, will strip to my lilac twig. Understand?
Well, then, come and render an action of graces to la sua eccellenza."
   They crowded round me with such beautiful, unveiled eyes. I explained the
bullæ to them, and showed how they unscrewed. Toto immediately vanished, running
toward the villa.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   It is delicious to give presents, I think. Dainty little Guido nestled
against my feet. His colourless hair, his dark, colourless pallor, lent
enchantment to the stainless whiteness of his bluish-shining, chrusoberul eyes.
He screwed, and unscrewed his bulla.
   "I think I will ask the friar of Toto for a small relick. And it shall hide
in this gold ball on my breast alway, to keep me holy," he meditated, as Toto
returned with a something of satisfaction, of triumph on his brow.
   "A relick?" Toto said. "Yes; very excellent, o 'Dino mio. I have one already:
but I shall demand from Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires yet another,──a
relick of Sangiorgio, whom I adore because he is Protector of the English. Yes,
I will have that, if I am allowed to choose. And thou shalt have one of
Santamaria Maddalena, patron of our dear Don Friderico, 'Dino mio."
   I asked what relick he had already. He sent the boys away before he answered.
   "What but seven hairs of your head, sir?"
   I felt my pate. "I never gave you those," I said.
   "You did not give them, sir; but I went into the house and took them."
   I tugged a handful of hair, in perplexity. "I wear no wig, Toto."
   "No, sir; but there is always your comb." He left me, and joined the others,
who were playing within call.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   There was no sound in the sleeping city, now. The night was warm as an
embrace; no moon: but heaven a miracle of starry splendour. I find much of
unapproachable, of precious, in these great stars of the summer night. I leaned
back in contemplation.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   A loquent silence brought my eyes to earth.
   There was going to be a fight, or, at least, a pale. I encourage both; and I
said, "Let me see."
   Ercole and Desiderio stepped aside, disclosing Toto and Vittorio at defiance.
Vittorio awaited assault with grave unconcern, hand on hip, in the exact pose of
the great serene gumnandropais, in that bliss-full Primavera of Alessandro
Filipepi. He had supreme and just confidence in the superiority of his more than
four cubits, and in the merit of his indomitable sinew. Toto faced him, tense
and glaring, resembling the slender Wrestler of Herculaneum about to spring.
Then Vittorio shot out arms (at the biceps his circumference measured fourteen
top-joints of thumb), and, catching Toto by the os ilii, heaved him over his
head. But my agile Perseus of Cellini (the Waxen Sketch in Palazzo del Bargello,
not──oh, not──the Bronze Abortion in the Loggia dej Lanzj) was master at that
game. There was an instant's vision of grace describing an aerial curve, and an
almost imperceptible man*uvre. Vittorio turned: but Toto, also, had turned in
air, and alighted on his feet. With swift spring he flung himself upon the
Greek, knees gripping ribs, torso towering high, pressing back those mighty
shoulders; and, at the sudden resistless shift of weight, Vittorio fell to the
ground.
   "One point all," I said, "and enough for to-night."
   I rose. Kithones were belted on, and five of the Seven Sleepers sent to bed.
But, to the two who strove, I said, "Reasons?"
   Each looked at the other.
   "Toto considered me to have spoken insufficiently of la sua eccellenza,"
Vittorio said.
   "Vittorio considered me to have spoken more than sufficiently of la sua
eccellenza," Toto said.
   Here was a lark!
   The garden was too cool for a story from heated persons in silk kithones. I
drove them indoors, and busied them with the scaldino to keep alight my huqa.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "What have you said, Vittorio?"
   "I was so happy to have my golden bulla, sir, that I described la sua
eccellenza as being like a king giving with both hands."
   "And Toto finds that to be objectionable?"
   Toto gave a contemptuous sniff.
   "Speak!" I said.
   "Vittorio, sir, is a good enough little thing," (Toto was about as high as
his pythian throat;) "but he has no discrimination. He pays you a compliment,
meaning well; but the compliment is clumsy, because it lacks fine justice."
   "O, sir," Vittorio protested, "I do assure you that I said the very best
words which I could find in my mind!"
   "Errè! Errè! Atom! Other minds hold other words, sir; and Vittorio has not
said those, sir."
   "Then what were your words, Toto?" I asked.
   "Sir, I said that the actions of la sua eccellenza in the matter of the
procession, and especially in the matter of our presents, reminded me of the
actions of San Gabriele Arcangiolo."
   "And I answered that it was a matter of un' eccellenza, and not of an
archangel," phaidroneos interrupted.
   "Wherefore, I hurled the blasphemer to the earth," Toto proclaimed.
   Lurid demonstrations flashed over the huqa.
   "Pax!" I commanded. "Explain your parable, Toto; that wisdom may enlighten
the mind of Vittorio."
   "Wisdom is the daughter of Experience and Remembrance, and those personages
are not related to Vittorio."
   "Explain, explain!" I commanded fiercely.
   "Yes, sir, I will explain; indeed I will. Well, then, sir, and Vittorio, San
Gabriele Arcangiolo is a prince whose admirable motto is Do little; and do it
lavishly. It is plain that his highness has taught these words to la sua
eccellenza; for no one ignorant of them could do what you have done in this
walled-city. O, I have seen with these my eyes; and I know."
   "Then you consider the procession to have been suitable?"
   "More than suitable, sir. It was unnecessarily suitable; just as lentils are
better than beans, barley than lentils, yet beans are good enough. There would
have been a fine procession here, if you had been in England, sir. There was a
fine procession here a year ago. There always has been a fine procession here,
for many hundreds of years. But, this year, comes la sua eccellenza, all sad,
with half-shut eyes of a dreaming prisoner, who has no interests in this walled-
city, has never seen it before, possibly will never see it again, who cares
neither for stick nor stone nor soul of it, and who is quite unnecessary to its
welfare; yet, on a sudden, dreams have died, and opened eyes look brightly at
reality; and you spend bags of gold, and run here and there, all day and night,
and work──but, work!──to the astonishment of all, save of me──Teodoro; because I
know that San Gabriele Arcangiolo has said, `Eccellenza, do this procession. Do
this little thing. And do it as lavishly as I, who am an archangel, have done in
the case of Other little things.'"
   "What other little things?" I asked, to keep myself from falling on sleep.
   "Well, sir, there was the case of the three boys who sang as they blessed the
Lord in the furnace of fire."
   "Does Vittorio know that history?"
   "In part, sir; but not the part of Toto," Vittorio distinguished.
   "Then tell him, Toto, and tell me."
   "Sir, and Vittorio, you shall know of a wicked king who lived in antick
times. He was called Nabuchadonosor Re; and his heart was full of pride. Praise
did not satisfy him; honour and admiration did not fill the chalice of his
desire; he wished for nothing less than to receive the adoration which is due to
Il Santissimo. Therefore, in the courtyard of his palace, he set up an image of
himself carved in gold; and he placed musicians with their instruments near by;
and he made an order that, when the band played at noon of the dial next day,
all the citizens must come and perform a genuflection before the golden image.
   "This was done: and Nabuchadonosor Re sat at his window, watching to see that
his order was obeyed. The guardians-of-the-publick-safety went into all the
houses, driving out the people, young and old, and rich and poor. And crowds
came, and passed before the statue, and performed their genuflections; and
Nabuchadonosor Re began to feel perfectly satisfied.
   "But, after noon, there came three boys, blooming with virtues, driven by the
guardians-of-the-publick-safety, and, when they passed the statue, they put out
horns at it; they even shot out the middle finger of an open hand in ultimate
contempt; but they did not kiss their fingers, and they made no genuflection.
   "Nabuchadonosor Re went mad with rage, desiring to do these boys the worst of
mischief, because they hurt his pride. Therefore, he threatened them with the
fire of unlucky wood; but they only laughed at him, and said his order was a
stupid one which they would never obey. Genuflect to Il Santissimo, yes; also,
to His Cross on Feria Sexta in Parasceve; also, to our Lord the Pope, and to a
bishop throned, because these are His ambassadors. But, genuflect to just a
common king,──who asked? No, no! Not all boys are fools! Not all, Vittorio, not
all!
   "Nabuchadonosor Re put both his thumbs down hard; and carnefices came, who
seized these three brave boys, and tied their arms behind their backs, and their
hats upon their heads, and wound tight cords over their shirts and brakai from
their shoulders to their ankles, so that they lay like babies swaddled on their
boards. Also, Nabuchadonosor Re directing them, other carnefices heaped up logs
and faggots of trees which bear no fruit, high as the window of the wicked king,
adding barrels of pitch, and barrels of oil, to make a memorable bonfire. They
lent it light from torches; and, when the red flames roared, three pairs of
carnefices took each pair a boy by his shoulders and his heels, swung him to and
fro with all their might, and sent him flying into the heart of the fire. And,
so fierce was the heat, so uncontrollable the blaze, that, in the very act,
furious flames licked up those carnefices, and spewed them out as ashes. And
Nabuchadonosor Re looked on from the window of his palace.
   "Other personages, also, looked on from another palace.
   "High above the stars, San Gabriele Arcangiolo was sitting in a loggia on the
wall of gold, amusing himself with Sant' Iurcamiele Arcangiolo, the Prince of
Hail. These two sons of oil, whose station is near the Lord of the whole earth,
were telling holy tales, like this one; when there came a whiff which made
archangelick nostrils quiver, and voices still.
   "`Does your highness smell fire?' Sant' Iurcamiele Arcangiolo inquired.
   "The other answered that he did smell fire. `I suspect some careless divel
has left open the door of the Brown Kingdom,' he said.
   "But Sant' Iurcamiele Arcangiolo was peering out of the loggia. `No,' he
shouted, `it is those people in the world who disturb us with their mischief.
See!' He pointed down to the palace of Nabuchadonosor Re.
   "The two archangels looked, and they saw the carnefices light the fire, and
the brave boys, bound and helpless, lying near. At the same instant, the Signor
Iddio Onnisciente deigned to give illumination, and made these princes to
understand everything that they saw. And the Prince of Hail said, `I can't stand
this! Those boys must not be burned!' His highness, no doubt, remembered the
proverb which says, Man is dearer to the gods than to himself. Sant' Uriele
Arcangiolo came flying with the Book, in which he shewed that the death of these
three brave boys was not yet due. Sant' Azraele Arcangiolo came flying also,
saying that he had received no Order to take away the breath of their breasts.
   "`This is my affair,' Sant' Iurcamiele Arcangiolo said. `I shall go and be a
storm, blasting that fire with my hail, that I may make the wicked king look
silly.'
   "`No,' San Gabriele Arcangiolo shouted, for he had an idea. `Not you, but I,
will go.'
   "Sant' Iurcamiele Arcangiolo stared at his brother in amazement. `But your
highness is the Prince of Fire,' he said, `and this is a matter of extinguishing
a fire, not of lighting one.'
   "`Just so,' San Gabriele Arcangiolo assented. `Everyone knows that water puts
out fire, and that the Prince of Hail can beat a bonfire black till not a spark
remains alive. But let me go, who am the Prince of Fire, to cool those flames of
earth with the intenser whiteness of the Fire of God, and so astonish those
little hop-o'-my-thumbs down there with a two-fold miracle, all ad maiorem Dei
gloriam.'
   "And the great archangel dived, swifter than swiftest heron grounds, dived
right into the heart of the fire, at that same instant when the carnefices
hurled aloft the three brave boys.
   "The fire of earth cooled at the presence of the Prince of Fire; and, when
the three brave boys, invoking the Lord Abele, fell down therein, being bound,
helpless, and ready to, die, San Gabriele Arcangiolo put the Fire of God into
their hearts, and lifted them, and showed them how that they need have no fear,
for the flames of earth could have no power to touch them, so long as, in their
hearts, they cherished the Fire of God; and, to give them cheer, he said, `Trium
puerorum cantemus hymnum quem cantabant sancti in camino ignis benedicentes
Dominum.' And, erect among the flames, as in a garden of tiger-lilies with
canopies of yellow jasmine, and taught by the archangel, Anania, Azaria and
Misaele chaunted `Benedicite omnia opera Dominj Domino,' down to `et laudabilis
et gloriosus et superexaltatus in sæcula,' resembling young priests who chaunt
honey-voiced hymns in thanksgiving after sacrifice.
   "That is the history of San Gabriele Arcangiolo, Prince of Fire. He does
little. Any archangel can put out a fire. It is a simple thing for those
personages. Sant' Iurcamiele Arcangiolo, Prince of Hail, could have saved those
three brave boys quite easily. But San Gabriele Arcangiolo must needs put
himself to the inconvenience of doing a little thing lavishly, of doing what was
unnecessarily suitable. And,──mark me well, Vittorio,──all the same, our Don
Friderico has done what was unnecessarily suitable in the matter of a little
procession, and in the matter of our presents; and he has done this little as
lavishly as San Gabriele Arcangiolo, appearing in his proper person, would have
done. All of which I told thee, before conquering thee in the garden."

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   As for me, I found the ingenious subtilty of the compliment to be so
unnecessarily suitable, that, having sent the boys to bed, I wrote it down.
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XIIIJ

ABOUT DOUBLES IN GENERAL: AND SANVENANZIO AND SANTAGAPITO, IN PARTICULAR

AT dawn, we left Manfredonia. (Manfredonia is not the walled-city mentioned in
the preceding tale. That was in another province.) I prefer to do my summer
travelling before the sun is hot. The boys wore garlands of woodruff and roses,
in honour of San Barnabo. The Normans have left their mark upon this region. But
that which the Greeks of earlier ages made, is ineradicable. At every turn it
confronts you. The violet fragrance of it scents the very air. As we meandered
through olive groves, with the sea on our right, Toto pondered.
   Presently he proclaimed, "Yes, sir: it is quite plain that the Padre Eterno
keeps a set of moulds in which He shapes our figures."
   "Make that good," I said.
   "Well, sir: you were speaking to that garzoncino of the fishermen on the
shore, last night. You have seen him well? Then, sir, was he not the living
image of our little Ilario? Had he not the same slight shape, the same dead pale
skin with straight brown hair, the same thin red lips, the same long green eyes
of a little cat, the same sad, sweet regard, the same plaintive minor voice of
flute? Had he not the same thin delicacy of build, thighs flat on the inside as
of one who rides well, wrists and ankles which I could break across my knee?
Have you not seen how smooth and swift his movement was? Is he not the very same
as our Ilario in everything, except the something, of I know not what, that
makes him not Ilario, but the garzoncino of the fishermen? Yes. Yet he is not
the brother of Ilario. Ilario's brothers are not like him, being ruddy and
robust, as you know. Nor is he the cousin of Ilario; nor even of his blood at
all: but born and bred in this province, where we have never been until four
days ago. Yet you will witness that the Padre Eterno has used for him the same
mould as that which He used for making Ilario. And I call him a Cat-boy, as I
call Ilario a Cat-boy. Mi-au!
   "Also, in these strange places through which it is your will to go, I have
seen other people who seem to me to be like some other people whom I have seen
in other places; but where I cannot say, because I do not know. That is why I
assert that we are all made in moulds. I do not speak of our souls; for each one
is a special work, and no two are alike: but without doubt the Padre Eterno
makes our bodies in sets, to save unnecessary trouble and expense; and He
scatters us over all the world, so that, when the ultimate day of judging comes,
it will be an easy job for San Michele Arcangiolo to sort us, and to rearrange
us.
   "Oh, yes. I know all about twins. Beatrice, * requiescat in pace, gave them
to me. But this is not a matter of twins. It is a matter of persons who have
never met before, belonging to several races, living always many many miles
apart; and, yet, as like in their shapes as two white roses on a bush.
   "And there is something else. You have seen the fabricator of figures in
gesso, at work, pouring the stuff like cream into the mould, leaving it till it
becomes hard enough to stand alone, and drawing out the figure, white and
beautiful as the gods in the studio at Corvicastra. Well, then, la sua
eccellenza will know the first figure to be the best, because the mould is new
and clean. The figures which come out of that mould after the first, are not so
true; and they continue to come out false and falser, because the mould is worn
with use, and clogged. The moulds of the Padre Eterno are similar. The first
shape which He makes is a masterpiece, altogether the finest of its species; as
Ilario is, whom you have chosen for the faultless correctness of his singular
sad delicacy; or my brother Guido, chionoblepharos. The second is like the
first, for it came out of the same mould; though it is not so fine, because the
mould is new no longer; and that is the fisher-boy. And there will be others
still less fine, but in another region which I have not seen: all the same I
know them to be somewhere; for the Padre Eterno is not a wasteful hog like
Otone, who threw away the glasses of photography which you had spoiled, instead
of saving them for a cover to a melon-patch in time of frost.
   "And so we are all made in moulds, in sets; and there are many histories of
the most diverting character, in which are described the sentiments, and the
adventures, and the deeds of persons who, by chance, have been thrown into the
company of their Doubles; that is to say, of persons whom the Padre Eterno has
shaped in the same mould.
   "Now there was the case of the two martyrs.
   "I told you, last summer, that there were many millions of boys in paradise,
when I spoke of Sansebastiano and of Sampancrazio and of Sanluigi the Jesuit.
Well: and now I shall tell you of two other boys, martyrs both.
   "The first one was called Sanvenanzio. He endured dreadful sufferings, down
here in the world; almost as dreadful as the sufferings of the patron of
Vittorio the Greek, of whom I will speak another time. But Sanvenanzio was much
admired in paradise, for his courage, and for the obstinate dauntlessness which
made him insist upon offering his body to the pagans, allowing them to mangle it
for days and weeks, that Domeniddio might have the greater glory. Also, he made
a good impression on the gods by a certain haughty mien with which he walked, or
played in the gardens, or did his duties, plainly showing him to be of buona
gente, and well brought-up. Also, he was clever, smart, fearless, good-tempered,
blithe as a bird,──altogether, a very nice boy, well thought-of by everyone; for
which I should like him to be my friend. He was not a Roman of Rome, worse luck,
his family being a respectable one of Camerino. Nevertheless he had a rich dark
skin of the colour of golden wine, the same as the healthy Ercole of la sua
eccellenza. With this, he had eyes resembling brown velvet, with brows of the
same, straight and continuous, and a beautiful small round head covered with
little rings and curls,──oh, but lighter than his skin,──of the yellow-silver
colour of a pale and shining straw, like that of the Lord Adamo on the arras at
Deira. This looked very noble and singular when he wore his halo, which was red
as blood, because he was a martyr; and it gave him such a grand and brilliant
aspect, that all the gods considered him to be simpaticissimo.
   "Of course, he never lacked companions; for he was that kind of boy which
everyone finds to be adorable, and is pleased to see. He spent most of his play-
time with Santafilomena and Santagiulia, the one a Roman, the other an Hebrew,
because they were martyrs as he was: and he preferred little girls who have dark
hair and white skins, which is only right and natural, seeing that he had light
hair and a dark skin. Always choose, for your female friend, your opposite in
colour, if you are wise, sir. Well, and after he had amused himself in paradise
for three and twenty years, or thereabouts, suddenly, something happened.
   "Sanvenanzio had been passing a happy afternoon in the apple-orchard, with
his two friends Santafilomena and Santagiulia. While the sun was hot, for it was
August summer, they sat in the shade, eating apples and telling holy tales like
this one; and then Sanvenanzio stretched his full length on a bed of
southernwood, and took a siesta. While he slept the girls made chains of blue-
bells, till the Ave Maria rang. Then, the three knelt down to say their prayer,
for it was out of Easter-tide; and Santafilomena and Santagiulia wreathed their
flowers round the glowing limbs of Sanvenanzio, and put a garland of blue-bells
on his yellow-silver hair, and bracelets of blue-bells on his arms, and a
necklace of blue-bells round his throat; and they laughed and sang because they
were so happy, being young, and gods in paradise. Presently they took to running
races over the soft greensward beneath the apple-blossoms; and Santafilomena and
Santagiulia were left behind, because girls always glue their knees together
when they try to run; but Sanvenanzio ran like a boy,──that is to say, striding
with the full length of the leg,──and he went out of sight like a swallow, and
hid behind a tree which was within a stone's throw of the Gate, waiting there
until the girls came up, all out of breath, and laughing when they found him.
   "While these things were being done in paradise, another boy was undergoing
martyrdom down there in the world; and he was called Santagapito. As soon as he
had finished dying, his angel brought him to paradise; and Sampietro opened the
Gate, while the quire struck up the hymn, Invicte Martyr, Unicum Patris secutus
Filium: Victis triumphans hostibus, Victor fruens c*lestibus. When the new god
came through the archway, all the huge angels bowed profoundly, and
Santafilomena and Santagiulia went to kiss his hands, and to give him a good-
day; while his angel-guardian brought his halo, red as blood, from the Duomo,
with a diadem of laurel, and a branch of xanthine palm entwined with lilies
which Madonnina keeps for martyrs who are also maids.
   "Sanvenanzio stood still, stiff, rigid as a statue carved in corinthian
bronze, staring at Santagapito. He shook himself, breaking the chains of blue-
bells, strewing them on the grass. He rubbed his eyes, and stared again, and
caught his breath. Then he stepped up to Sampietro, and plucked Him by the
orfrey of His cope, saying that he did not feel quite well.
   "`Um-m-m-m-m! Fever?' Sampietro said. He drew off His glove with the jewels
on the back, and stroked the skin of Sanvenanzio.
   "`No. Not fever,' La Sua Santita was pleased to say. `Tell Us what ails you,
caruccio?'
   "Sanvenanzio answered that something was the matter with his eyes, and his
head was giddy. Sampietro stooped, opening the stripling's eyelids with thumb
and index finger, and looking into the pure clear depth within. There was no
disorder to be seen, and He began to doubt of Sanvenanzio, thinking that,
perhaps, this might be some jape on the youngster's part. You never know where
you have a boy, sir, as you yourself have said more than seven and thirty times.
   "`Look here, Sampietro,' Sanvenanzio said. `I know you think that I am
playing a trick upon you. But, by the holy plane-tree, Santo Padre, you are
mistaken this time. The fact is, I can see strange things here, which I take to
be delusions of the dæmon; and I do not like them.'
   "Sampietro asked what kind of things: worms, or rats, or bats, or toads?
   "Sanvenanzio pointed to the group on the greensward by the gate. `Look
there,' he said.
   "`Well? What is there to startle you in that?' Sampietro asked.
   "`But, is there something there?'
   "`Bless the boy! Of course there is!'
   "`Sampietro,──am I Sanvenanzio, or not?'
   "`Certainly you are Sanvenanzio.'
   "Sanvenanzio flew into a violent rage. `Then, Sampietro, by the zone of
Kuthereia, what is that?' he stormed.
   "At this noise, the angel-legions dressed by the right, leaving Santagapito
in the foreground. The boys glared each at other. A pretty situation!
Sanvenanzio furiously glowered at Santagapito. Santagapito furiously glowered at
Sanvenanzio. They resembled two muscular young cats, about to spring. Other gods
came crowding round, looking from one lad to the other, and from the other to
the one, in utter and complete amazement.
   "`This is awe-full!' Sampietro said. He took off His tiara, and gave it to an
acolyth, while He wiped the sweat from His brow, using His gremial, instead of
the fanon provided for such purposes. His Holiness went on to say, `Here are two
boys, as like as two little brown almonds. Sanvenanzio, We have reason to know,
seeing that We admitted him three and twenty years ago. And Santagapito is a new
god who has just arrived. Every feature of these two, from heel to crown, is so
beautiful, that they appear to have no face in particular by which We might
distinguish. And, which is Sanvenanzio, or which Santagapito, We are unable to
declare──in fact, this is a case of the Pope ill-informed; and unless the Pope
be speedily well-informed, you lazy good-for-nothing loafers will get no
judgment ex cathedra to-day. Now then!' And Sampietro gave way to one of his
tempers.
   "Sancassiano came out of the crowd, remarking that he had had some experience
of dealing with boys, having kept school down there in the world.
   "`Ah, yes,' Sampietro said. `An excellent idea, Our good Sancassiano! Pray
give Us the benefit of your experience. Come and sit on this stool near Our
throne; and do try to get to the bottom of this monkey-trick.'
   "Sancassiano took a seat at the feet of La Sua Santita; and their angel-
guardians led the pair of striplings forward, while all the gods, and many
million angels stood round in a semi-circle. Sanvenanzio and Santagapito hissed
one at other through clenched teeth. Only their angel-guardians stopped them
from gripping throats.
   "`Now, you boys, behave yourselves, and look at me,' Sancassiano said. And
they looked at him.
   "`Let all the other gods turn away their eyes,' Sancassiano continued. And
the other gods turned away their eyes.
   "Then Sancassiano made signs to Venanziello,──who is the angel-guardian of
Sanvenanzio, and resembles him in appearance, except that his arms are wings and
that he has a hundred cubits of height,──that he should cover his lad completely
with his feathers. Venanziello obeyed. Sanvenanzio was lifted high in the arms
of his angel-guardian, and shrouded in white plumes.
   "Sancassiano gave leave; and the other gods turned round and looked again. On
one side, they saw an angel who towered above their heads, holding a little
something-hidden in his great wings. On the other side, they saw another angel
who confined a furious stripling between his feet.
   "Then Sancassiano cried, `O divj e dive di Dio, what do you call this boy?'
   "And they answered, `Sanvenanzio.'
   "`Hide your eyes again,' Sancassiano said. And they hid their eyes.
   "Then Sancassiano made signs to Venanziello that he should change places with
Agapitello,──who is the angel-guardian of Santagapito, and resembles him in
appearance, except that his arms are wings and that he has a hundred cubits of
height,──and that he should put his lad down between his feet; also that
Agapitello should take up Santagapito in his arms, and bury him in his plumage.
   "Then Sancassiano cried a second time, `O divj e dive di Dio, what do you
call this boy?'
   "And they answered, `Sanvenanzio.'
   "`Yah, fools!' Sancassiano said.
   "Agapitello put Santagapito between his feet, alongside of Sanvenanzio, who
was confined between the feet of Venanziello; and the lads menaced each the
other as before; and the crowd looked on this side and on that, resembling so
many imbeciles.
   "`Dear Sancassiano, this is terrible,' Sampietro said, having viewed the
whole performance.
   "`Leave me alone, if You please, Sampietro,' Sancassiano said.
   "`But look here,' Sampietro persisted, `they both are gods! That is certain;
otherwise they would be in another place. One is Sanvenanzio, who is an old
friend of Ours. The other is Santagapito, all brand-new. But which is which?
That is the question.'
   "`Am I managing this business, or is La Sua Santita?' Sancassiano demanded.
   "`Oh, you, dear Sancassiano, by all means,' Sampietro replied.
   "`Then be so kind as to allow me to manage it in my own way,' Sancassiano
said. And he ordered Venanziello and Agapitello each to measure his own boy;
while he wrote down the measurements on the back of an old plenary indulgence
which was lying near.
   "`Height?' Sancassiano said.
   "`Sixty-six top-joints-of-thumb,' Venanziello said.
   "`Ditto,' Agapitello said.
   "`Finger-tip to finger-tip?' Sancassiano said.
   "`Sixty-six top-joints-of-thumb,' Venanziello said.
   "`Ditto,' Agapitello said.
   "`Chin to top of head?' Sancassiano said.
   "`Eight and a half top-joints-of-thumb,' Venanziello said.
   "`Ditto,' Agapitello said.
   "`Round chest?' Sancassiano said.
   "`Thirty-seven top-joints-of-thumb,' Venanziello said.
   "`Ditto,' Agapitello said.
   "`Inner length of leg?' Sancassiano said.
   "`Thirty-four and a half top-joints-of-thumb,' Venanziello said.
   "`Ditto,' Agapitello said.
   "`Round knee?' Sancassiano said.
   "`Eleven and a half top-joints-of-thumb,' Venanziello said.
   "`Ditto,' Agapitello said.
   "`Round calf?' Sancassiano said.
   "`Twelve and a half top-joints-of-thumb,' Venanziello said.
   "`Ditto,' Agapitello said.
   "`This is shocking!' Sampietro murmured.
   "`Let us have no more hawky-pawky! Now, you boy there, what do you call
yourself?' Sancassiano said, pointing with his style to Sanvenanzio.
   "`Sanvenanzio,' Sanvenanzio answered.
   "`And you?' Sancassiano said to the other.
   "`Santagapito,' Santagapito answered.
   "`Age?' Sancassiano said.
   "`Fifteen,' Sanvenanzio answered. Venanziello nodded forward.
   "`Fifteen,' Santagapito answered. Agapitello nodded forward.
   "`From what place?' Sancassiano said.
   "`Da Camerino,' Sanvenanzio answered. Venanziello assented.
   "`Da Praeneste,' Santagapito answered. Agapitello assented.
   "`Where are your clothes?' Sancassiano said.
   "`I was stripped naked for my martyrdom,' Sanvenanzio said.
   "`Also I,' Santagapito said.
   "`Recite the Acts of your Passion!' Sancassiano said.
   "`I shouted at the dirty pagans that I was a Christian,' Sanvenanzio said.
   "`Also I,' Santagapito said.
   "`Of course you did!' Sampietro said. The boys bowed to La Sua Santita.
   "`The first day, they scourged me with wild-rose-runners; at night, in the
prison, my angel healed my wounds,' Sanvenanzio said.
   "`Also me; and they left me in my dungeon for four days without food,'
Santagapito said.
   "`They burned my breast with torches,' Sanvenanzio said.
   "`And mine with embers; also, they scourged me again,' Santagapito said.
   "`At night, we healed them,' Venanziello and Agapitello said.
   "`The next day, they hanged me by the feet, head downward, over a smoky fire
to choke me,' Sanvenanzio said.
   "`Also me,' Santagapito said.
   "`Oh, the rascals!' Sampietro muttered.
   "`We held them in our arms, and fanned the smoke away,' Venanziello and
Agapitello said.
   "`The next day, they poured boiling water on my belly,' Santagapito said.
   "`At night, I healed his scalds,' Agapitello said.
   "`The next day, they smashed my face with iron bars, and broke my jaws, and
all my teeth,' Sanvenanzio said.
   "`Also mine,' Santagapito said.
   "`At night, we mended them,' Venanziello and Agapitello said.
   "`The next day, they tried to drown me in the cloaca,' Sanvenanzio said.
   "`I held his head above the filth, and gave him lavender to smell; afterward
I cleaned him,' Venanziello said.
   "`The next day, they put me in a cage with three black lions,' Santagapito
said.
   "`Also me,' Sanvenanzio said.
   "`We made the lions behave like kittens,' Venanziello and Agapitello said.
   "`The next day, they tied my ankles to a horse's tail, and dragged me through
thickets where brambles and thistles grew,' Sanvenanzio said.
   "`At night I cured his scratches,' Venanziello said.
   "`The next day, they dashed me over a precipice,' Sanvenanzio said.
   "`I caught him,' Venanziello said.
   "`The next day, they drew me, like a harrow, over rocks and stones,'
Sanvenanzio said.
   "`At night I healed the bleeding gashes of his flesh,' Venanziello said.
   "`The next day, they struck off my head with a sword; here is the scar,'
Sanvenanzio said, pointing to the white line round his throat.
   "`Also mine,' Santagapito said, showing his scar.
   "`Here is the sword,' Venanziello said.
   "`Here is the sword,' Agapitello said.
   "`Bravissimo! Bravissimo!' Sampietro shouted, waving the keys.
   "There was silence.
   "Sanvenanzio and Santagapito no longer glared with defiance. They stretched
out their arms, looking each into the other's eyes with love and admiration.
Their angel-guardians saw that all bad blood was gone, and loosed them from
restraint. Hand in hand, they faced Sancassiano.
   "Sancassiano sat, and gnawed his finger-nails. The gods murmured in
perplexity.
   "`We are no wiser than before, O dear Sancassiano,' Sampietro said.
   "`Pardon me, Santo Padre,' Sancassiano answered; `one thing is evident.
Sanvenanzio admits that the flesh of his back was torn to ribands, when the
pagans dragged him over brambles and sharp flints. This was not done to
Santagapito; but, instead, they poured boiling water on his belly. Here, then,
is a difference; and, by the different scars upon the bodies of these boys,
shall we be able to decide which is Sanvenanzio and which Santagapito.'
   "`Ma che!' Santagapito interrupted. `Did you not hear that my angel-guardian
healed my scalded belly, and made my flesh all sound and sweet after each day of
my torment? How then can I show those scars? Also, the body, which I wear in
paradise, is new, and formed of the Fire of God. I left my earthly dust to lie
beneath my altars in the world, where Christian men shall plead my merits,
asking my intercession to obtain gifts for their bodies and their souls. You,
Yourself, Sampietro, cured the sick, down there, even by the passing of Your
shadow. Surely, I can follow Your example, giving greater glory to Domeniddio,
by manifesting the power which La Sua Maestà has deigned to grant to me.
Therefore, I cannot show You scars, save this one round my throat; and that I
wear, because it cut my path to paradise. But Sanvenanzio is also scarred, as I
am, round the throat: and if You will not take my word, nor his, it seems that
You will have to seek some other way of finding which of us two is rightly
called Santagapito and which Sanvenanzio.
   "`The stripling is apt, and speaks reasonably, O dear Sancassiano,' the Santo
Padre said.
   "But Sancassiano appeared more worried than ever. He was completely at a
loss: but, being a schoolmaster, he could not bear the notion of defeat before a
pair of boys. His halo was cocked awry, and he nervously nibbled his style-tip,
while the gods, standing round, shifted their feet, and discussed the situation,
in that babbling undertone which crowds use when waiting for the voice of
authority to decide.
   "Then there came a little chirrup from the front row, saying, `If you please,
santo signor professore!' It was Santafilomena mewing like a little cat.
   "`Well, little girl?' Sancassiano said.
   "`If you please, santo signor professore, I know,' Santafilomena answered.
   "`And what do you know, my child?' Sancassiano asked.
   "`I know which is Sanvenanzio,' Santafilomena said.
   "`Then tell me which is Sanvenanzio,' Sancassiano ordered.
   "She came out of the throng; and, going up to Sanvenanzio, she took him by
the hand; and she said, `If you please, santo signor professore, this is
Sanvenanzio.'
   "`Tell me how you know that, my little deary,' Sancassiano said.
   "`If you please, santo signor professore, and Santo Padre, and all you divj e
dive di Dio,' Santafilomena answered, as she made a pretty courtesy to the gods,
`Santagiulia and I spent the afternoon with Sanvenanzio in the apple-orchard;
and, while the lazy creature took a nap, we made chains and wreaths of blue-
bells; and, when he woke, we hung them on him. There are the blue-bells on the
floor: he broke them with his naughty temper, when he saw Santagapito. He is my
great friend, you know; and we have played together since the day on which he
came to paradise. And I know well the yellow-silver colour of his hair, for I
have often rumpled it when playing with him. That other lad has hair as red as
virgin gold, quite different to the colour of my friend. Stoop down, boy,' she
said to Sanvenanzio.
   "He lowered his head.
   "Santafilomena plunged her fingers in his ruffling curls, and drew out the
petals of a broken blue-bell, which she exhibited with triumph before the eyes
of all.
   "And the gods, having said their Deo Gratias, shouted with joy, `Brava!
Bravissima! Santafilomena! Sharp girl, that! Evviva! Evviva!'"
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XV

ABOUT THE AFORESAID, AND PADRE DOTTO VAGHEGGINO, S.J.

"I NEED not tell la sua eccellenza, that Santagapito and Sanvenanzio were firm
friends from that hour. They resembled Sampancrazio and Sansebastiano, who
arrived a few years later, being leal, loving, and just what brothers ought to
be──but never are. Santafilomena, chionochrotine with dark hair, remained the
friend of Sanvenanzio, with his pale hair and his tawny skin; and Santagiulia,
chionochrotine with dark hair, became the friend of Santagapito with his tawny
skin and his hot hair like a flame: all of which is precisely right and proper,
as you would expect it to be in paradise, and, oh, so superior to this blind
world, where we match our colours. And I could talk all day, and all night as
well, speaking of the adventures and the jokes, and the sports of these four
gods; but, now, I will recite the history of a stratagem by which they made a
little Jesuit look ridiculous, curing him of the sins of avarice and vanity.
   "He was parrocchiano of Santo Pozzo in the province of Selce, and he called
himself Padre Dotto Vagheggino. His superiors had put him there, because he was
as clever at earning money as any seven-and-thirty Hebrew grocers; and money, by
which power can be bought, is more dear to a Jesuit than anything else in the
world.
   "Santo Pozzo was a squalid enough village in a desolate province. All the men
were sots; and all the women, lewd. But, in the church, there was a shrine of
Santo Pozzo, most antick, and very precious and magnifical, where the Padre
Eterno was often pleased to heal the sick, and to grant other admirable graces.
   "Padre Dotto Vagheggino was not the kind of man to make himself miserable on
account of sots and harlots. He had no time to attend to those; for he wished to
bring multitudes and multitudes from all the world, to worship at the shrine of
Santo Pozzo; knowing that pious persons, who came on a pilgrimage to ask favours
from a god, do not think about their money, but give it freely to the priest who
guards the shrine, hoping that a sacrifice will secure for them the grace which
they desire to gain. And, for a few years, foreigners filled the squalid
village; and the coffers of Padre Dotto Vagheggino brimmed, so that he became
rich enough to pay the expenses of the parish; and also, every month, he sent a
good bagful of gold to the Black Pope at Fiesole. It was good business that he
did. But, suddenly, the pilgrimages ceased. People in other provinces left off
thinking about Santo Pozzo; and Padre Dotto Vagheggino earned less money than he
liked. So he resolved to have made a fine new statue of Santo Pozzo of flesh-
coloured marble, very rare and precious, meaning that it should attract
foreigners with fat purses, into which last he thought he might contrive to
slide a sticky finger. And the statue was carved in Rome, and blessed by Papa
Pecci Himself: truly, it was a work of art, altogether splendid. When Padre
Dotto Vagheggino measured it, he found it to be so large that by no means could
it be brought into his little church. Wherefore he took the idea of building a
basilica on a hill above the village,──an immense basilica, costing bags and
bags of gold,──in which a new shrine of Santo Pozzo could be made, where the new
statue could be placed in pomp and dignity.
   "But the torrent of pilgrims had dwindled down into a little rill. And all
were poor. Padre Dotto Vagheggino's pocket was empty. No one seemed anxious to
fill it. What was to be done? He sat down to make a meditation. In the first
place, he considered how that Love is the most powerful thing in all the world.
Not the Love which is Divine──all very beautiful and well enough in its way, but
unsuitable for men of the world, of course; but the Love which is Desire──ah,
yes, take care of number one, and charity begins at home. In the second place,
he considered that, in this world, women are very powerful; and that in number
they are more than men. Also, that their hearts are like dried tinder. And then
he smacked his knee, and considered, in the third place, that if he could give
women something to love, he would win them to his side, and they would thank him
for the pleasure they received, and would give him bags of gold in return.
Conclusion──what could he give to women to love? And there he found a
difficulty. And for many months he pondered over the conclusion of his
meditation.
   "He travelled through the country, preaching everywhere of Santo Pozzo; but
no one took any notice of his words; and no one gave him alms for the building
of his vast basilica. People seemed content to remain in their own provinces,
and to worship the gods whose shrines were at their very doors.
   "Now, on his travels, this scheming Jesuit noticed that, in every church
where there was a picture of Sansebastiano, women, old and young, princesses and
contadine, ancient hags and matrons, marriageable women and delicious little
girls, flocked together like droves of geese, cackling their prayers, because
the beautiful figure of Sansebastiano in his picture inflamed their hearts,
sometimes to madness, sometimes to death. But, more particularly, Padre Dotto
Vagheggino noticed that they gave their jewels, or their corals, or their gold
and silver pins and necklaces and bracelets to buy candles for his shrine,
thinking of him all day, dreaming of him all night, hoping to recommend
themselves to that fair youthful god, and to have the strong embrace of his
protection, and their hearts warmed by spiritual favours.
   "Then Padre Dotto Vagheggino thought that he could see the way to conclude
his meditation; and he bought a picture of Sansebastiano for his own church.
   "The girls and women of Santo Pozzo rushed to pray before this picture,
falling in love with Sansebastiano according to the custom, and going home to
dream. But the females of Santo Pozzo were few in number, also poor; and no more
money came to Padre Dotto Vagheggino than sufficed to buy the pasta for his
table, and to keep him in the favour of his superiors. Women of other provinces
did not worry the Sansebastiano of Santo Pozzo with their prayers, for they had
his picture in their own parishes. The men stayed with their women, as they
always will; and Padre Dotto Vagheggino saw that the time had not yet come when
he might fold his hands and rest. He was quite certain that he had found the
conclusion of his meditation; and he considered, day and night, in order to
discover the step which led to it, till he became thin and poorly, and the hair
of his head dropped off, so that it looked like a bladder of lard.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "All the time, Santagapito and Sanvenanzio had been looking over the ramparts
of heaven, to watch this Jesuit; just as I, sir, would sit and watch a lizard
who wriggles and writhes to climb out of a slippery-sided bottle into which it
may have cast itself. It made them very sick to see a holy priest busily
neglecting the souls in his parish,──souls for which he would have to render an
account, whenever the Padre Eterno should deign to call upon him. And
Santagapito and Sanvenanzio went and kneeled down in the Duomo, asking of La Sua
Maesta leave to use their wits for teaching Padre Dotto Vagheggino a lesson, by
making him a laughing stock and a thing of ridicule, all for the health of his
soul.
   "The Padre Eterno graciously asked what good that would do; to Whom
Santagapito and Sanvenanzio answered that this Jesuit, though cursed with an
itching palm and a gross self-conceit, had, also, some sense of humour, as well
as a good heart to acknowledge himself wrong, when once he grasped the fact. So
they desired to bring him into ridicule, and to let him see that even the wicked
world despises and mocks a holy priest who grabs at gold like an Hebrew grocer.
Then, they said, he would have an opportunity of laughing at his own folly, and
of amending his silly sinful habits. And the Padre Eterno was pleased to say,
`* * * WE GRANT THE REQUEST.'
   "That night, sir, Sanvenanzio left Santagapito in the garden, playing with
Sampontico and Santrufone with Samrespicio, boys like himself; and he came down
to Santo Pozzo in the province of Selce.
   "In the priests' house, there was a little room with a little window which
opened in the church, high in the side wall of the apsis. A person in this room,
who looked down through that little window, would see the high altar below him
on the right hand; and, opposite, the other side wall of the apsis blank as
death. Here, the Jesuits came to say their litanies, or office, or private
prayers, and Padre Dotto Vagheggino was kneeling at the little window, with his
beads unsaid, worrying his dolour, and staring at the blank wall across the
apsis. It was past bed-time, and the church was dark.
   "Sanvenanzio came down quietly, having made himself invisible; and he stood,
floating in the air, by the blank wall in front of Padre Dotto Vagheggino: and,
while that Jesuit stared into the darkness of the church, Sanvenanzio became
radiant and resplendent as the stars before his eyes.
   "Padre Dotto Vagheggino had shouted frothy fervorini about miracles for many
years; but never, yet, had he beheld a vision of the gods in his proper person.
He said to himself that if this apparition were reality, and if other witnesses
could see it, then his fortune would be made. He pinched his cheek. Oh, he was
wide awake undoubtedly! His eyes did no deceiving. His supper had been a light
one. Yes. This was undeniably one of the gods from paradise. He looked more
earnestly through his little window. Sanvenanzio did not move; but his eyes
sparkled white in his skin of wine-colour. Padre Dotto Vagheggino saw a tall
straight healthy boy of fifteen years, having shining hair, and strong stark
body and limbs, dark as Domeniddio made him. His left hand rested on the pommel
of a sword. His right was proudly raised to wave a branch of palm entwined with
lilies. He wore a laurel diadem; and, round his halo, red as blood, the Jesuit
could read these golden words:

                    DIVVS VENANTIVS ATHLETA CHRISTI INCLYTA

   "Padre Dotto Vagheggino's eyes were bathed in the beauty of this vision. In
his throbbing brain he formed a plan. Let any one who would, possess a
Sansebastiano. Here was a most uncommon and most splendid god, to whose
presentment, in a picture, all the female world would bring their hearts and
purses. Yes. A picture of Sanvenanzio. Yes. Where could such a thing be found?
And was he a proper saint? Well, not improper──but──── The Jesuit whipped out
his neglected breviary, and ran his finger down the kalendarium──`um──um──
January──February──March──April──May──yes──the eighteenth day of May:' he ran
over to the Mattins of the eighteenth day of May. `Um──Um──Yes, surely!──Three
Proper Lessons, and three Proper Hymns! Per Venere! Venanzio da Camerino, a
stripling of fifteen years, having been accused, before Antiocho, who was
governor of Camerino under the Emperor Decio, of Professing the Christian Faith,
of his own will surrendered himself at the garrison-gate of the city: and the
rest. A very great saint indeed! One of the early martyrs of whom we hear
nothing nowadays! Quite respectable! A treasure! A veritable antick! Gloria
Patri thrice, in honour of Sanvenanzio! Gloria patri et filio et spiritui sancto
sicut erat in principio et nunc et semper et in sæcula sæculorum amen gloria
patri et filio et spiritui sancto sicut erat in principio et nunc et semper et
in sæcula sæculorum amen gloria patri et filio et spiritui sancto sicut erat in
principio et nunc et semper et in sæcula sæculorum amen! O blessed Sanvenanzio,
pray for me;──pray for me; and for my basilica!'
   "And, on his knees, he prayed, and feasted his eyes, and prayed, and prayed,
till Sanvenanzio faded with the dawn, going back to paradise.
   "Padre Dotto Vagheggino needed not to use his bed. He could not rest till he
had set his new scheme afoot. He roused the sagrestano, and made him prepare
vestments and an altar. When he had said his mass, he breakfasted──an uovo in
bianco, two olives, a flask of red wine; and, before the sun had warmed the
world, he ran with the utmost speed of his legs to a painter in the village whom
he had marked to have skill, superb ambition, and exalted faith. To him, Padre
Dotto Vagheggino said that he required a picture surpassing any work of art, of
any age or country; and he described the form, the pose, the singular bright
beauty of the god which he had seen. He took the painter, with his paints and
brushes, to an empty room near by the church, giving him a canvas, white and
large, on which to set the masterpiece; and, there, he shut him up in secret.
Many hours did Padre Dotto Vagheggino spend, speaking of his vision: and, at
last, he managed to inflame the painter's mind so, that he conceived a true and
splendid composition, showing the holy martyr as he is in paradise. And, when
the Jesuit was gone away, the painter made innumerable drawings according to the
description given, until his soul was satisfied. And the last he showed to Padre
Dotto Vagheggino, who fell upon his neck and kissed him, saying, `Hail! Maestro!
You are a true artist; and you have set down that which was in my mind!'
   "Having had his brushes, and his canvas, and his tinctures, blessed with holy
water, the maestro took a charcoal stick; and right across the unsullied canvas
he wrote this incantation: Divo Venanzio aiutatemi. Over this he set his
drawing; and, having laid a palette, he began to paint.
   "Every night, when Padre Dotto Vagheggino told his beads, looking through the
little window in the church, Sanvenanzio was envoyed from paradise by his angel-
guardian, and showed himself by the blank wall, as before. But he only stayed a
minute, or two minutes, now; lest Padre Dotto Vagheggino should become familiar,
and presume to take a liberty; for he knew the man.
   "Every day the Jesuit desired to see the painter at his work; but this
maestro begged that he would wait till the picture should be in a fit condition
to be seen. Padre Dotto Vagheggino fumed with impatience; but he waited: and,
one day the maestro opened the door of his secret studio. There, in shadow, the
picture was displayed. It presented Sanvenanzio, of the size of life, all
ardent, in a blue profundity.
   "Padre Dotto Vagheggino hopped about the room, making a loop with his index-
finger and his thumb, peering through the same, considering the masterpiece from
every point of view. Then, he cried for joy, saying, `Yes, dear maestro; it is
fine indeed! It gives me supreme consolation! At last, at last! You have made a
great success! How pleased the simple female folk will be! Hail! Maestro! Now
let us set it over there, and view it in another light.'
   "So they moved the picture into full sunlight; and the Jesuit continued,
`Bravo, bravo! Here is a splendid work! How bold are the lines! How rich are the
colours! Exactly as I saw him! Immense! Immense! But do you know, dear maestro,
I think his hair was just a little lighter. Perhaps you will be kind enough to
make that alteration!' And then he went away about his business; and, all day
long, the maestro laboured to make the hair look lighter.
   "At night, Sanvenanzio showed himself as usual; and, in the morning, Padre
Dotto Vagheggino thought that the breast should be made a little broader. This
was done. The next day, he found the flanks to be too narrow. The maestro added
width to the flanks, against his will. The next day the Jesuit required that the
legs should be made fatter. This was done. The next day he wished to have them
shortened. This was done. Having caught a brief glimpse of Sanvenanzio at night,
in the morning he said that the spaces between the first and second toes were
too large. The maestro obeyed his orders meekly, though he knew that every
alteration wrecked the noble contours, dulled tinctures, flattened features,
spoiled the work; and, when he was alone, he cursed the impudence and the
svariamento of the Jesuit, his patron, out aloud.
   "Then, the night came, when Sanvenanzio remained in paradise; and Santagapito
descended to Santo Pozzo in the province of Selce, to stand where his brother
had stood by the blank wall of the church, before the eyes of Padre Dotto
Vagheggino looking through the little window; but, though he stayed a quarter of
an hour, he kept his halo dim; and the Jesuit did not notice the golden letters,

                       DIVVS SAGARTVS MARTYR DEI INVICTVS

In the morning, when Padre Dotto Vagheggino went to see the picture in the
secret studio, he said, `Maestro mio, do you know, I am not quite satisfied with
that hair: it is far too pale! What I want you to get, is a purrothrixine colour
like a phlox! Do you understand?' So the painter laid a palette with fresh
tints, and painted the hair anew till it resembled flames.
   "For three nights, Santagapito showed himself; and then he came no more. But,
every morning of a month, Padre Dotto Vagheggino demanded alteration in the
picture, trusting to his memory when he saw no visions. The figure was all too
robust and plethorick, bursting with the two reds,──beef and wine,──he said. It
resembled a great fat, vulgar, full-blooded plough-boy. Look at that
hupogastrion! Look at those broad hips! Look at those clumsy haunches──at those
sturdy, stumpy legs──at those cramped toes like a clenched fist. Where could
grace or spirituality be found in the grossness of such a garzonaccio? All this
must be changed. He would not listen to the maestro. He knew precisely what he
wanted: he intended to have it; if not from this, then, from another painter who
would obey his betters! So, he excited himself, seizing brushes and paint of the
blackest black, daring to work on the canvas of the maestro, defiling it with
thick lines, dashes, scribbled smears, and splotches!
   "Oh, the vanity of that Jesuit! All that there was to be known, he knew. The
rest was nothing. He would teach everybody, everything. Would la sua eccellenza
be pleased to have a goat capering in his studio and teaching him his art? You
would kill me, who know something, if I dared.
   "Then you will find this painter to be simpaticissimo, when he cried on kind
Madonna, asking mercy, demanding what he had done to deserve the anguish of
seeing his good paints wasted, and his good work spoiled. But Madonna continued
to be silent. She sat up there, and smiled, knowing that these torments would
purify the soul of that maestro; and Sanvenanzio with Santagapito had promised
her that he should not have to suffer more than enough; also, that when the
Jesuit had learned his lesson, then they would give rewards to the maestro whom
he crucified with his selfish and conceited tyranny. And, by night, to that
maestro, they brought a little golden key having a ball of rock-crystal at its
handle; that into it he might plunge his tired eyes, and refresh them with
glimpses of the gods. Secretly, they placed this gold and crystal key upon his
easel; and when the maestro found it, and looked upon it, in the morning, he saw
sights such as he had never seen before, except in dreams; and he knew that some
kind god regarded him with favour, giving him a key which unlocked paradise, as
a refuge for his pain. So he said to himself that he would obey that Jesuit
usque ad nauseam; and, if his patron desired to have a frightful picture, a
frightful picture he should have. It mattered nothing to the painter.
   "For many days he toiled, with Padre Dotto Vagheggino always at his ankle,
suggesting this line, ordering that shadow, insisting upon the other colour;
until, in time, the picture showed a scraggy gristly sneak, so long and skinny,
so lanky, and so knotty-jointed, and so muddy-coloured, that the painter
sometimes wished for death to ease him from the sickness of his mind's eyes. But
then, he used the gold and crystal key.
   "All the same, Padre Dotto Vagheggino swore that he saw a masterpiece, and he
sent letters to the neighbouring parishes to make known that, on a certain day,
a marvellous and most miraculous picture would be exposed for the veneration of
the faithful, at Santo Pozzo in the province of Selce. Also, he promised to deal
very generously with the painter, and to make his fame illustrious through all
the world. But that maestro was a timid misanthrope. Also he loathed the work
which he had been forced to do against his knowledge and against his will.
Wherefore, he gave a writing to Padre Dotto Vagheggino, asking as a favour, that
his name should not be named, and begging for oblivion as his sole reward. But
the Jesuit romped on his own sweet way, preaching in many places, near and far,
praising the painter and the work, inciting multitudes to come to Santo Pozzo,
on a pilgrimage, at the festa when the picture should be shown.
   "The day arrived, Padre Dotto Vagheggino placed the picture in a new shrine,
all magenta velvet with festoons of paper roses, green, and blue, and violet,
and orange, most Jesuitical, with paper lamps and candles burning on all sides.
Women flew in flocks to Santo Pozzo, with their men following at their heels.
They filled the church till you could not see the floor for their head-cloths
and their hair. The men crowded in the chapels, and packed themselves round
pillars. Padre Dotto Vagheggino made them sing some hymns which he himself had
made: and then he drew aside the curtains which veiled the wondrous picture.
   "When the men had looked, they turned and ran away to the nearest spaccio di
vino, saying nothing. There was nothing to be said by men, except blasphemy. And
blasphemy in a church is sacrilege as well.
   "When the women looked, they shivered.
   "`É, The nasty thing!' one said.
   "`It's a nigger with a single leg!' another said.
   "`The grey angel with his sickle come to fetch me!' an old hag screamed, and
she was carried away in a fit.
   "`What is it?' a little girl whimpered.
   "`Oumf! It makes me heave! I shall give Cecco a monster if I look at it!' a
fat mother said.
   "They shivered again, and stampeded out of the church. Women, who had come
from distant places, went to take refreshments at the osteria. The women of
Santo Pozzo slapped their babies, and, sitting in the shade, they gabbled of
necklaces and hair-pins.
   "Padre Dotto Vagheggino was left alone, spying through his peep-hole into an
empty church.
   "His picture was a horror, and his scheme had failed.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Santagapito and Sanvenanzio were watching him from paradise, and they let
him have a good hour of miserable disappointment. Then Sanvenanzio said, `'Tino,
let us go and teach this Jesuit his lesson.' They made themselves invisible and,
having mounted their angel-guardians, they descended silently into the empty
church, where they floated in the air above the hideous picture; and there they
flamed out, radiant and resplendent as the stars, making the hundred tapers
flicker and burn blue.
   "And Padre Dotto Vagheggino, kneeling at his little window, saw a vision of
such immortal splendour that wish and appetite in it were hushed to rest; a
vision of two tall straight healthy boys of fifteen years, having strong stark
bodies and limbs of dark wine-colour as Domeniddio made them. Each left hand
rested on the pommel of a sword. Each right was proudly raised to wave a branch
of palm entwined with lilies. The head of one was covered with little curls, oh!
but lighter than his skin, and of the yellow-silver colour of a pale and shining
straw. The head of the other was covered with little curls, also lighter than
his skin, and tinted like the red of virgin gold. The two wore diadems of
laurel, and, round the halo of the first, as red as blood, that Jesuit saw the
golden words,

                    DIVVS VENANTIVS ATHLETA CHRISTI INCLYTA

and round the halo of the second, red as blood, the golden words,

                       DIVVS SAGARTVS MARTYR DEI INVICTVS

   "From the darkness of the stern, young faces, holy eyes shot white-hot silver
scorn at Padre Dotto Vagheggino, holding him transfixed.
   "Then Sanvenanzio slowly stretched out his splendid arm, and pointed at the
Jesuit's stony heart with the palm branch twined with lilies.
   "Santagapito also, and he said, `Vain, sinful priest, attend! What of the
souls for which you must account?'
   "Sanvenanzio answered him, as though they chaunted anthems, `All the men are
sots, and all the women lewd!'
   "Santagapito said, `Eaten up by avarice and self-conceit, you crave for
admiration, for power, and for gold.'
   "Sanvenanzio responded, `You have left your Master's flock a prey for the
foul fiend, so that you might be free to fish for gold, for power, for
admiration!'
   "Padre Dotto Vagheggino would stutter some excuse.
   "Santagapito said, `Silence, base priest, base juggler! You, higher than
angels, yet must listen humbly to the voices of the gods. Think of your
miserable estate. You laughing-stock! You thing for ridicule!'
   "Sanvenanzio responded, `You knew me not at my first apparition. You had to
seek my history in your book of offices!'
   "Santagapito said, `As for me, you never even heard of me, but took me for my
brother Sanvenanzio!'
   "Sanvenanzio responded, `Yet, though you do not know your own, you dare to
teach another man his trade!'
   "Santagapito said, `Busybody and meddler that you are, parcel of conceit and
money-grabber, learn to remove the rocks that blind your own eyes before you
look for specks in the eyes of other men!'
   "Sanvenanzio responded, `Learn also, that neglect of your priestly duties
will earn for you shame and contumely in the world, and eternal damnation in the
world to come. Repent of your past. Seek the kingdom of Domeniddio and His
Greater Glory, first; and all things that your heart desires will be given to
you, according to the Evangel.'
   "Then the heavenly voices ceased, and the two young gods faded from the
world, going back with their angels into paradise.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Padre Dotto Vagheggino came down from his little window, and he lay
prostrate before Il Santissimo in the tabernacle for many hours, saying in a
broken whisper, very humbly, Kurie eleeson, Christe eleeson, Kurie eleeson, and
the Seven Penitential Psalms, with Litanies.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "And he learned the lesson taught by those severe and loving gods so well,
that Santo Pozzo has its great basilica on the hill, wherein the statue of
flesh-coloured marble is worshipped every day by a thousand grateful tongues;
for Padre Dotto Vagheggino made of Santo Pozzo a holy place, where no man is a
sot, no woman lewd."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XVI

ABOUT THESE TALES, THE KEY AND PURGATORY

LYING on his back, on the wooded slopes of Monte Saraceno, Toto lavished the
long rose-brown sinuosities of youth: the right leg here, stretched out in a
straight line with his body; the left, there, flexed at the knee, leaning away
in strenuous abandonment. His arms framed the density of his hair; his head and
throat fell back and upward to the sky.
   In a low-slung hammock, I was gazing, through the dark green foliage of a
cedar, into the fathomless profundity of blue. The midsummer air was soft, here
in the cool shade, and breathed a scent of spikenard.
   "Well, sir, Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires has told me many tales. I was
a little child then, like Guido. That friar was my friend; and he wished me
well. Therefore, he taught me to watch the world with diligent eyes, but
especially the people who are on it. That is why I am able to say that such a
thing is so, because──or that such a thing will be so, because──── He said that
I should learn wisdom by observing people without their skins. Also, he said
that, at times, I must go away in loneliness, and think, and listen to the wind,
or to the sea, or to the voices of the trees and of the flowers, or to the
whispers of the earth. This I have done, and I do: therefore I know many things
which no man has told to me. Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires had visions of
the gods, also conversations with the same, face to face. Everybody knows it to
be so; for truly, sir, he is a holy man: and he told me of these, secretly. If
he had not told me, there would have been few histories for la sua eccellenza,
and those not of the most fine. But he did tell me; and I have learned his
veritable words: some, I do not understand fully; but they are beautiful, and
they are his. People say he is improvisatore, and most illustrious.
Improvisatore, indeed! They have not seen the personages of whom he speaks; and
they do not understand that he speaks only of personages whom, having seen, he
knows. You have called me improvisatore, also, sir: and you are wrong. All that
I tell you is not improvisation. It is simply the histories which I have from
Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires, given in his proper words; or, in my own
words, descriptions of what I know, having seen, having heard. There is nothing
more. I am not Domeniddio, Who can create things from nothing. I must have
grapes and clean feet, before I can make wine. Without them I make no wine. The
things of which I speak are there; and, when I look, I see them: and,──being
your own improvisatore, O dear Don Friderico,──I tell you what I know, after
seeing.
   "Dreams? O, yes,──but, dreams. And that is Our Lady of Dreams. You have seen
her, in her picture in the chapel at Deira. She sends a dream-angel to put
wisdom into me, and to show me things by night. Yes, often. But not when I am
wicked. No. Therefore I worship her. Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum,
benedicta tu in mulieribus, et Benedictus Fructus ventris tui Jhesus. Sancta
Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostræ:
amen.
   "Where to find? In various places, sir. Per esempio, when you do not want me
──perhaps you will be painting that deaureate Desiderio for Divin Amore,
──perhaps you will be sleeping, perhaps you will be at home reading to la
signora duchessa──oh, sir,──pardon,──oh, what have I said,──oh, dear Don
Friderico, pardon── * requiescat in pace────

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Well, sir, when you do not want me, then I slip into whatever water may be
near;──it must be deep, sir, and still; a sea, sir, or the lake; and I dive
headlong down deep, making neither noise nor splash, opening my eyes wide,──but
wide. Having gone to the depth of my spring, I stretch; I become all stiff; and,
very slowly, I float up to take breath. But, while I am down there, my eyes
pierce the shadows of the depths, and I see; there are voices, and I hear them
sing. I drink secrets with my eyes and ears. My body does not know, does not
feel: it is a log, straight and stiff, feet and hands stretched far and wide.
Then I breathe strongly in the sun, hanging still in the water. I spring over,
and down, many times, until I tire of diving. By day, sir, it is a cool green
world under the water; by night a black-blue world with silver in it. Afterward,
I gain the bank, and I spread myself in the sun like one crucified, until my
face is dry; and I stare into the sky, or the sun, or the moon, or a star which
I shall choose. It is a yellow world then, sir, or a red, or pearl-coloured, or
a blue. And, if the wind sings, I lend my ears. Then I nail myself face
downward, stretching hands and feet far and wide; and I breathe the breath of
the earth. All the time, I keep my eyelids open to the full, and fixed, and
stedfast; till I see new things, as well as things that I have seen before. And
so I learn. But this is only the beginning: for the things are always hazy, and
the voices faint. Still, I have caught wisdom with my eyes and ears; and, after,
I make it clear, select that which is worth keeping, and store it in my mind.
When I have put on my cap, and my sandals, and my thulakoi, and my shirt, then I
lie down under some tree, to think.
   "Verses? Oh, yes; it is all music that I hear. They sing, these personages of
the water──of the wind.
   "Like plain-song? No, but something like.
   "Then like what? Ah, sir, I do not know what you want me to say.──Well, then,
like angels, very grave and solemn; or like sad druads or naiads.
   "Nonsense?
   "Listen, sir! You will take a book, and read, as fast as you can turn the
pages. I must spell each letter slowly, till I hear it, before I know it. You
dip cut feathers in the ink, and your hand writes of itself, oh, but pages in an
hour! And tiny,──tiny! I can write Teodoro and Toto; and what more, when the
feather sticks, and ink comes down like puddles on the paper. You paint the gods
on planks and canvas, as they are in paradise. You pinch the ball of a box: you
pour venom from blue bottles over glass in the dark; and you make little me come
there, leaping, or wrestling with that beast Otone, or lying at my ease taking
my siesta, just as I live. I cannot do the deeds of la sua eccellenza: but I do
not call the said deeds nonsense because I cannot do them. There they are. I
know they are, because I have eyes which see them. Why should I call them
nonsense, then? Also, I have some wisdom of my own. I tell you that I won it
from Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires, or from angels, or from water, or from
wind, or trees, or sea, or sky. You know it, because I tell it to you, just as
these personages have put it in my mind. Oh, yes, people call it nonsense; but
they are people,──quite respectable; but they do not know things. And la sua
eccellenza is of another species.
   "Yes, well; the key of gold and crystal,──that is what I said about the
painter. The gods amused him with a key of gold and crystal. And──? Well, I am
telling you about it now.
   "After I have caught the seeds of wisdom with my eyes and ears, I must fix my
eyes wide open, and lie still, and think. Then, wisdom blossoms; and I see and
hear, clearly and distinctly, those things which, at first, were hazy, faint, or
shapeless. But, I must be glaring at a clear distinct thing, all the time. Only
that way, I can plainly see or hear: and, what I plainly see or hear, that I
say. I called it a key, but the gold part is not important. It was beautiful,
therefore I said it. But it was the bright clear crystal which had significance:
for, when the painter looked stedfastly into its shining depths, he could see
the gods as they live; and have much joy; just as I have joy when I look into
that large crystal ball which stands upon your writing table at home. So, the
thing became a key by which the painter, tormented by that Jesuit, might unlock
the gate of another world, and peep in there at his will; and, peeping, forget
his pain.
   "No, I cannot alway use that crystal ball, because I dare not move it from
your writing table. But I can see what I want to see in other things; not quite
so well as in the crystal ball, but well enough: and these I use when I am in
strange places, such as this. These things must have depth and brightness.
Either will do for me; but depth is better. Eyes are very good; and the flavian
eyes of Desiderio suit me better than all other eyes, better even than the pure
eyes of that dove, my brother Guido. That is why I make the creature ride
astride my knees, when I recite histories in these forests. I wrap him in my
arms, and hold him still, and I look into his eyes. What I see there, is told by
my lips. O, eyes of a glorified cat! O lovely eyes! Eyes clear as the golden
wine of Nido di Corvo!
   "Beatrice? Well.──Formerly.──Not now.──Sir, my throat aches when I think.
──Excuse me.──* Requiescat in pace.
   "Then there is water. If I look at a dew-drop, or a rain-drop on a flower, or
into still water, or into ink in my palm, then I can see those things. Or a
point of brightness will make my wisdom blossom; a light on metal, or on a
pebble, or on glass,──I have seen things on the spectacles of la sua eccellenza,
──or a leaf, if that it be a bright spot in shade. I am looking at a little
speck of blue through this dark cedar, now. That is why I can speak.
   "Not believe me?
   "But you shall believe me! I will die, here, before your eyes. Then you will
believe. I will die, now; and you shall see and hear.
   "No. Not that. Am I a fool? But give me those eyes of Desiderio near mine,
──he is asleep, there, behind you,──and I will let you hear me die. Yes, sir, do
now! Ah, do! Dangerous? Not at all. Nothing is dangerous. Are there no gods,
sir? And I will not venture near the Brown Kingdom. Only to purgatory, and back.
You can call me when you choose. It will be easy, sir; and most diverting for
you. Also, you will believe. Yes, sir! Say that I may!"
   Desiderio was dragged out of a siesta, and made to lie on his back, with his
hands under his neck, his head down, his throat raised. Toto lay, breast
downward, in the same line, but behind Desiderio's head, his elbows planted
firmly, his chin in his palms and his eyes directly above the eyes of my
xanthomeirakion. There was a space of about four top-joints of thumb between
them. They were close beside my hammock, and I lowered myself till I was exactly
on their level. The brown eyes of Toto were opened to their full extent, the
brows a trifle contracted, all quite rigid, but with no suspicion of constraint.
just resolute alert expectancy. No more. Desiderio had a little lazy smile
playing on his half-open rosy lips. He was evidently no novice at this game, of
which I had never known. He appeared to be aware of drowsy pleasures in store.
As time fled, the pupils of his strange eyes dilated, becoming very large and
black and velvety; and the yellow irides shimmered like threads of amber, edging
stainless white. For some minutes there was perfect motionless stillness. Then
Toto began to speak, very gravely, very slowly, with pauses, varying in
duration, between his phrases, and using a monotone of minor shade.
   "O most courteous angel,──my guardian,──my leader,──my governour,──my guide,
──and my defence,──my most wise counsellor,──and my most faithful friend,──teach
me,──rule me,──guard me,──guide me,──along the right road──to the place──where──
I would go.

   "I live. Take me through the Gate of Death.
   "Take me away.
   "I wait.
   "O, take me in your arms, and carry me away.

   "I want──to move to you.
   "I──cannot──move──to you.

   "Cord binds.

   "Angel!

   "Lift.
   "Ah──Let us go.──Now.

   "Wait?
   "I will wait.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "The Grey Angel!

   "My arms there──and hold?
   "Yes.

   "Now!
   "Drop!
   "Rush! Blackness! Ave Maria, gratia Plena, Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in
mulieribus, et Benedictus Fructus ventris tui, Jhesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei,
ora pro nobis peccatoribus nunc, et in hora mortis nostræ: amen. Blackness.
Glimmer. Stop.

   "No. I will not move.
   "Brown cave. Shadows moving. Dim tapers. Rush and splash of falling water.
Low tunnel there.

   "If I move, I may fall into some pit.

   "A light? Thank you.
   "Ready.

   "Lie down in this car?
   "Cramped. Hard.
   "Head low. Shade candle.

   "You will go behind the little car, and push?
   "Roof of tunnel just above my head.

   "R-u-s-h.
   "Tunnel.
   "Onward.
   "Clank──clank──clank.
   "Rocks of the roof are low.
   "Walls enclose me.
   "Onward.
   "Rush.

   "Walls widen.
   "I cannot see the wall on the right.
   "Raise──candle──look. Pf!
   "It is gone out. Stop.

   "Light it, please. Ah.
   "The roof has gone out of sight. Brown rocks, wet, streaked, patched, with
lumps, with veins, that shine. In front, new opening──hole in wall of brown
darkness.
   "Ready.
   "Plunge on. Brown darkness.
   "Shades enclose me.
   "Water drops──runs.
   "My neck is cramped by stooping.
   "On.

   "If some rock of the roof be low enough to strike my head in this swift rush,
my neck will break. A jerk will snap it.
   "On.

   "On.

   "Beautiful walls.

   "I am glad that I came.

   "Brown rocks streaked with veins all white, or patched with lumps of
glittering grey.

   "Air cold as death. Water drips.

   "In brown darkness, eyes are dazzled by shaded light.

   "On.

   "No sound, except the crash and clang of the rushing car. Now and then, a
distant booming thud. Gusts of blasting wind. I feel the warm breath of my
angel, at my back. I know his arms are round the rushing car.
   "On.

   "The roof has lifted.
   "Please, let me see.
   "Fissure overhead.
   "Little brown hole before.
   "Deo gratias! I can shift──stretch.
   "Below, darkness, reflection of my candle in water. It rushes back in smooth
torrent. Are there any fishes?

   "Ready? Yes.

   "Plunge.
   "On.
   "Little gap. Brown darkness.
   "Brown nothingness.
   "Cannot pierce it.
   "Solid wall of brown.
   "As I dash at it, it alway goes in front.

   "Is──this──Death?
   "Not three minutes since I left the world!
   "Well now!

   "I like this.
   "You have been here often. I, never.
   "On.
   "Let me see all.
   "On.
   "Never mind how I feel.
   "On.
   "Let me see all.
   "On.

   "Light ahead.

   "Slower.

   "The walls grow wider.
   "The light comes nearer.

   "Pass. Light on empty car. Shadows waiting near. Each holds glimmering spark.

   "Slower.

   "Oh! slow!
   
   "Tunnel branches. Smoke. Sulphur.
   
   "Speed on.
   "On, to right, with a jolting rattle and crash, I fly.
   "Lower head.
   "On.
   "Where does the smoky sinister tunnel lead? How dark!
   "And the stench! To the Brown Kingdom! Ah! Hasten.
   "On.
   "On.

   "Cold.
   "Dark.

   "Darkness yields──yields.
   "Rough-hewn rocks.
   "Streaks glittering grey.

   "Slower.
   "To the left.
   "Stop.

   "That was a fine swift ride.
   "Here are empty grey cars,──dim lights──shadows moving.

   "I follow in your footsteps.
   "Stoop.
   "To the right. Narrow passage.
   "The floor is rough,──wet.

   "I refuse to fall.

   "Walls rocky──fissured──streaked──patched.
   "The passage winds.
   "The roof is high──low.
   "I follow.
   "How can I see without the sun, down here.
   "This little candle is the light.

   "No. I have no fear.

   "Dust lies thick like grey snow.
   "A long puddle. The roof drips. I am wet.

   "A vast cave. The roof is too high. Walls far away. Rough.
   "Seamed with water. Streaks. Patches. Glittering grey.

   "Wonderful!

   "Danger?
   "What?
   "The Lake? Oh, let me see the lake.

   "Is that brown bottomless abyss a lake?

   "Bridge?

   "How deadly cold!
   "There are shadows! Shadows rise and sink! Hands!!
   "Faces!! They are People!!!
   "A girl! I saw a girl!
   "Oh! Let us save them!

   "Why not yet?
   "When will it be time?
   "Who are they?
   "Passions?

   "May I pray that they may be cooled soon?
   "Libera, Domine, animas servorum Tuorum, sicut liberasti Noe de diluviis.
Amen.
   "Poor souls, in the dark silence, and the ice-cold water.
   "I shall come here. Oh, yes!
   "Yes, ready.
   "A grey ladder.
   "Light fixed to my head. Hands free.
   "I follow you.

   "The rungs are cold.
   "Dare I look down. No. Up. Up.
   "Squeeze through a little gap.

   "Another ladder.
   "Up.
   "Foothold shallow. I do not leave one rung till I have gripped the next.
   "Through this gap.

   "Rest.

   "Another ladder.

   "Up.
   "Longer. Difficult to climb.
   "Gap.

   "Another ladder.
   "Slanting over brown darkness.
   "Water streams down on me.
   "I am skin wet.
   "Climbing a chimney.
   "Ouf!

   "Deo gratias.
   "High passage. Windy. Dry. Cold.
   "Dim lights flicker in brown darkness.
   "Shadows wave in the air. They sway in the wind.
   "People!
   "Look at the old woman! Look! A priest!
   "What are they?
   "Good──soaked in silliness──vanity?
   "And?
   "Hang here in the wind till dry?
   "Wait, please. Requiem æternum dona eis, Domine; et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Yes. Ready.
   "Down this passage.

   "Down.
   "I stumble on rough brown rocks──dull-shining dust.
   "Narrow──and low.
   "Down.

   "Down────"

   (Toto was absolutely rigid. His eyes were fixed, intense; they did not wink,
nor flicker. I scribbled the slow, deliberate utterances which, at intervals, he
made. I very keenly watched him.
   Desiderio, also, was devoid of movement. The smile was faded from his face.
His eyes were open wide, but had fallen upward and inward, showing much white,
little iris, less pupil. His breast heaved gently and regularly. He was asleep,
undreaming.
   I doubted whether I would go down to the tents, for a shower of rain was
coming on.)

   "──difficult to walk.
   "Warm.
   "Slowly.
   "Foot-way slants from right to left.
   "Slippery grey dust.
   "Slant steeper.
   "Wall on my right. Touch it always.
   "Steep.
   "Left leg long. Right leg bent.

   "Down.

   "Hot.

   "Cannot see left wall.
   "Touch right wall.

   "Crawl along species of edge.
   "Slipping dusty edge.
   "No. I have no fear.──But let me look over the edge.

   "Madonna mia! A precipice!
   "Dull red flames below. People burning.
   "Boom. Hot wind. Wait, please, while I pray. Libera, Domine, animas servorum
Tuorum, sicut liberasti tres pueros de camino ignis ardentis: amen.
   "Yes. Ready. I follow you.
   "I am trembling. I cannot help.
   "No. I have no fear. I trust you.

   "Crawling──slowly──── edge of an abyss──

   "The edge slides. Narrow edge.
   "Rocks──stones──shining dust──slip──pass──and fall over──when I move. They
fall. They fall. How far down?

   "If──I──fall──"

   (This was the most creepy moment of my life. I know the cataleptick
apprehension of a fall, too jolly well. "* Toto, Toto, come back!" I cried.)

   "I come.
   "Angel! I must go home.

   "Ladders.
   "Down a slanted hole.
   "Cool.
   "Water streams down.
   "Down.
   "Another ladder.
   "Down.
   "Down.

   "Ground.
   "The great cave. The cold lake.
   "Brown. Dark.
   "Along a passage. Narrow. Wet. Cold.
   "Speed.
   "Cars again.
   "I crouch inside.
   "You are behind me? I feel your breath.
   "Your arms are round the car.
   "Ready.

   "Plunge forward. Through cold air. Over rushing water.
   "Clank──clank──clank.
   "Crash.
   "The car runs smoothly. With noise. With breathless speed. On. The roof is
high──Low──On──Walls wide──── narrow.──On──Brown rocks flit by──On──White
streaks──Patches of glittering grey──On──Darkness──On──Darkness──── Glimmer
ahead──On. Flickering lights. Near──On──Nearer. Nearer. Stop.
   "Leave the car. Stretch. Shadowy figures in the dark.
   "Glimmering sparks.
   "I have no light now.
   "Ah! Angel──
   "Lift me. Let me look back.
   "How brown and grey!
   "Yes. Ready. Hold me tightly.

   "Rush. All black.

   "All is gone.

   "Rush──Up──Black──Black──Oh, I would not have missed this for a thousand
lire!──Up──Rush──Black. Rush. Grey. Up. Light!
   "Ouf!"

   (Rhudickoneos bounded off the ground, shook himself, rubbed his eyes, and
pushed back his hair.)
   "Sir, how warm it is! But,──warm! And raining! Per Bacco, look at the rain!
How long was I away, sir? Nearly two hours? Fancy that now! Did I say things?
Oh, look at the pages! Well, well!──Desiderio! Monster of sloth, awake! Carry
the books of la sua eccellenza. And the tobacco.
   "Sir──my arm!"
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XVIJ

ABOUT SOME FRIENDS

IT was my birthday; and I was going to treat myself to an aubade.
   People are very cruel to me in the way of neglect. No one ever loved me well
enough to take trouble to find out that which would give me pleasure. No
stranger in the street ever said to me, "O, sir, why are you so unutterably
sad?" Friends do not to me, as they would that I should do to them. There is
some impenetrable mail of ice about me, which only one dead heart ever has been
warm enough to melt. Sometimes, very rarely, when I speak long and late at
night, the ice wears thin. Then, kind eyes look at mine, astonishingly unlidded;
and kind voices say, "Oh, if only we had known!"──Well! why don't confounded
people try to know: and know? That is not difficult, when one desires.
   Here was my birthday; and I knew that no one, excepting I myself, would care
to remember it,──till afterwards: so I resolved to make myself the modest
offering of an aubade, without squeaks, for once; and I had ordered two viole, a
violon-cello, a basso-di-camera, and three arciliuti; for I can hardly suffer
trebles of voice or string since Claudia, my Augusta, died──died──Domeniddio!
You know what voice of lark You coveted for Your quire,──and robbed from me──
   Toto awakened me at earliest dawn; and I moved into the clear cool darkness
of the terrace of this villa by Termoli, to taste olives picked (and pickled in
lime-water) the night before, nuts and purple figs, blood oranges and black
grapes, with wines, pitch-flavoured, or with honey fit for Ganumedes. Yes; Toto
had remembered my birthday, and had spread my breakfast with more exquisite
elegance. The wines were in rock-crystal bowls, wreathed with aloysia
citriodoria. The fruits lay in several heaps on cushions of fresh flowers: grey-
green olives on blue hydrangea, purple figs in a white cup of magnolia, nuts on
heliotrope, red-gold oranges on milky meadowsweet, black grapes blooming on the
petals of white roses that faintly blushed. Each cushion was hemmed in by a
bordure of verbena, and glittered with the diamonds of early morning dew. I
found the intoxicating odour, and the colour, to be adorable.
   The antelucan sky showed one wide flush of violet barred with rose, and the
sea, translucent opal of black-purple having gold stars in its heart. In the
garden, where dew-drops sparkled on orange-trees and cactus clumps, a little
lower terrace and pier of marble gleamed like a snow-drift floating on the sea.
While I ate, my seven gifts of the Santo Spirito raced through the shadows of
the garden.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   I dallied with olives. There was no sound, save the Prime of amsels and of
thrushes, and the laughter of happy boys.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   The flaming rim of the sun dawned on the horizon. Beams of vast brightness
shot through the rosy mist. Glowed the sea, like that unconsidered green-blue
gem, aquamarina, set in gold. Emeralds lit among the deeper recesses of the
pine-trees. A white peacock generously displayed, here, clouds of lustre of the
pearls in his pride.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   After water, air; and the boys were taking the sun. Ercole yawned on the
pier-head against the sky, like the statue of Brutus his favourite, carved in
corinthian-bronze. Desiderio, all pale-gold with buttercup-yellow hair, moved on
to the lawn with towel a-trail, found a comfortable situation in the young sun,
and fell on sleep. Near him, paced to and fro my pure Greek, the strong
magnificent violet-shadowed Vittorio, model fit for Andrea Mantegna, arm in arm
with the huge and ruddy Goth, Otone, ablaze with health. The little tender Guido
of chrusoberul eyes, and his slight glaukos friend, Ilario, delicately dangled
slim frail limbs in the sea from pier-steps, cooing each to other like white
doves.
   Toto mounted to my terrace, announcing arrival of musicians, who attended
behind a cactus-hedge, below.
   I gave him a nod, saying, "Sing, you."
   He dropped two directive words over the parapet; and a sense of musick
floated upward,──just a vibrance,──arpegij, low, and full. The boy's breast
rose, gathering the clean breath of dawn; from that glorious throat he poured
the marvellous quiet counter-tenor of his jewelled voice, resonant, restrained,
in a little folk-song, full of sun, and ending in a trillo appassionato. This is
something like:

     "The Rose is sweet; but has the prickly Thorn:
     "The Thorn cannot exist without the Rose.

     "I saw the Rose; I did not see the Thorn,
     "That hid away behind the sweetest Rose.

     "I plucked the Rose; then wounded me the Thorn,
     "That stood as Guardian to the sweetest Rose.

     "O Rose! I 'm like to die from Prick of Thorn!!
     "The Thorn was thine!!! Then heal me now, O Rose!!!!"

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   More musick followed, some known, some unknown: but all low, and full, and
very sweet. I leaned over the parapet, and watched the sunrise.
   Presently, from hidden strings, there welled a Chant sans Paroles of
Tschaikowsky. Finding it sympathetick, (although an English adaptor of the
musick-halls, devoid of themes, has robbed its motif for a coster-ditty), at the
fifth bar, I despatched Toto silently to secure its three-fold repetition.
   While the notes rippled, swelled, or cadenced, Desiderio stirred in his sleep
upon the lawn. When basso-di-camera finally pronounced the motif in reluctant
minor, he sat up, opening amber eyes. After dying of harmony, the musick woke
again, to take Desiderio captive. Narrowly I watched him. Here was a thing both
new and strange. Some mysterious power (Personage, as Toto would say) was his
master now. Not I. This was not a drowsy Himeros, any longer. He sprang to his
feet, with glittering eyes like constellations, and gleaming limbs of gold. Some
magick, born of musick, held him entranced. He had no more a will, but swayed
responsive to the song of the strings. At the tempo-primo of the twenty-eighth
bar, he found his feet; at the second farewell to melody, he stepped to the
centre of the lawn. With wonderment we looked at him. His eyes returned no
glance. His soul was stilled, feet fixed, limbs tense, form motionless.
   But, at the third outburst of the song, eispnoe transfigured Desiderio, and
he lived. The spirit of sweet sounds enchanted him. He danced like a feather in
a dream──danced like a fairy on a leaf──danced like zephuros on a flower. His
flickering feet, like yellow butterflies, played a gentle allegretto grazioso e
cantabile  upon the daisies in the turf. His limbs were human sunbeams weaving
mysterious intricacies. He waved, on high and wide, his slender flame-like arms,
floating here, and floating there, with swiftly-ordered errancy.
   His yellow head swayed like a buttercup on a stem. His lampromeirakiodia
obeyed each rhythmick call. Song found free expression in the abandonment of his
naif passionate movements, now quick and gay and crescent, now fading in
cadences of gentle, long-drawn-out regret: again accenting suncopations with
firm flying feet like flames, then dying──dying──dying to the slower
unconquerable minor, and the collected emotions of final chords, when the dancer
danced no more.
   I signed for a change of musick. Desiderio drifted into the shade of trees,
and slept.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "Well, Toto?" I said.
   "Yes, sir, a strange thing, and divinely lovely. Also miracolossissimo. I
shall think better of Desiderio now, seeing that some Personage has deemed him
worthy of such an inspiration."
   "What Personage?"
   "Sir, I don't know; I────:"──he made a native gesture of dismissal.
   "Is there not a story of some god who danced──danced with angels?"
   "Yes, sir, Sanvito, Child of Lucca, was so graced."
   "Is that history worthy of a hearing?"
   "Perhaps no, perhaps yes," he answered dreamily, and looking down into the
garden. "Sir, this is all very sweet, is it not? And suitable for your birthday,
sir,──this garden,──and the air and sky,──and this great peace. I hope that Don
Friderico is happy to-day?"
   "Quite happy, O chare puer.──And about that Child of Lucca?"
   "Ah, the Child of Lucca. Yes.──But you are happy? That is well.──Therefore,
we also can be happy.──Did it ever occur to you, sir, to think how very
excellent is the friendship between Vittorio and Otone, down there? They are
both so rare, so fine,──so mighty,──also friends of Domeniddio, being full of
grace, according to the Scripture where it is written, The Grace of the Lord.
Yes, I am pleased to see them as friends, like my Guido and Ilario. One must
have a friend after one has found oneself. Oh, yes! I had Beatrice, * requiescat
in pace. After her, I want no friend. Ercole, he has not yet found himself;
therefore he needs no friend. But he will, soon. Guido and Ilario have paired.
And Desiderio,──he has Sleep for his friend. You, sir, have no friend; and you
are at all times entirely sad; for to have no constant friend is worse than
death. But to-day you can at least see happiness, and I hope it has come so near
your lips that you may taste. Yes, I am very glad to see Vittorio and Otone
going arm in arm like that, because they remind me of the two Friends of Lucca,
who are gods,──yes, sir──of Lucca, sir,──the two Friends of Lucca, who are gods,
sir!──Who said Lucca?──Ah, the Dancing Child of Lucca!──but now I speak of the
Friends of Lucca; not of that Dancer. Would you care to hear a story, sir? A
story about friends, sir?──Quite respectable persons, sir! Also loving──loving
beyond everything, sir!──A story for your birthday, sir?"
   It was precisely what I wanted.
   "Then, sir, with the aid of Sangiovannino detto Il Divino, who himself is
God's Own Darling, I shall tell a tale of friends; of the Two Boys of Lucca, who
were friends, and are gods in paradise. And, in the beginning, you shall know
that you cannot have your choice of friends. No. The Padre Eterno makes for
everyone a friend; and, at the proper time, He lets each see the other. You know
in your heart directly you see your friend; and it remains with you to say
whether you will take and keep him. For you must perform special duties, if that
you wish to keep your friend; and those duties are many and great and sometimes
troublesome──sometimes terrible. Yet pleasure may be attained only through the
gate of pain; and friendship is a condition of perfection difficult to reach,
hard to maintain, but more. full of benediction, when achieved, than any other,
as you shall learn from the Acts of the Friends of Lucca.
   "They are called Santamelio and Santamico: in Lucca they were born many
hundred years ago.
   "They were gorgeous and beautiful as young lions, like Vittorio and Otone;
huge and vast of frame, strong and mighty of limb, made in the largest and most
splendid moulds, first copies. And, in colour, sir, they resembled this." (He
invited attention to the dazzling white little heap of meadowsweet, with a red-
gold orange lying on it.) "That is like Otone, for Santamico, sir;──skin──and
hair;──and eyes?──eyes?──like the buttons of your sleeves, sir." (Dark brown
topazolite, very rich and liquid.) "And Santamelio was like Vittorio, as to his
colour; just as you may see here." (He showed the mound of white-rose petals
delicately flushed, whereon a cluster of blue-black grapes reposed.) "Skin,
──hair;──and eyes?──eyes like these,──clear as the sky, and deep as the sea."
(He dropped on to the rose-petals, two star-like chinese blossoms of intense and
burning blue, whose names I do not know.) "They were like that, sir;──like
Vittorio and Otone.
   "Amelio was sixteen years of age, fifteen Amico, when first each discovered
the other at the Baths of Lucca, and knew that they were meant for friends. So
Amelio took his knife, and cut his left arm; and Amico took his knife, and cut
his left arm also; and Amelio offered his arm to Amico; and Amico offered his
arm to Amelio; and Amelio sucked the blood of Amico; and Amico sucked the blood
of Amelio, all in the antick manner: and, when the blood of Amico was in the
veins of Amelio, and the blood of Amelio in the veins of Amico, then they were
friends for ever; because Amelio lived in, and was, Amico; and Amico lived in,
and was, Amelio, in sæcula sæculorum: amen.
   "Now it chanced that these two friends were pagans; for, at that time, many
pagans still remained in the world, even among the most noble families. Amelio
and Amico wished to change all that; though for what they did not know. They ran
away from their pagan relatives, going out into the world together; and, in
course of time, they came to Rome, to Rome the Chief among all cities, to Rome
the Home of the holy gods, to Golden Rome. And it was Sabbato Santo.
   "Very early in the morning, the Santo Padre was going in procession to the
Church of San Giovanni Laterano, to perform the ceremonies of Sabbato Santo with
all pomp and majesty; in which ceremonies, as you know, sir, they have the habit
of baptising a Jew, a Turk, a Pagan, and an Heretick. Well: and it fell out
that, on this Sabbato Santo of which I speak, there was no Pagan handy, nor
could the clergy of San Giovanni Laterano find one anywhere.
   "The Santo Padre, Whose name was Costantino, was coming through the streets
on His white mule,──gladly, when He considered how that perhaps the world was
becoming altogether Christian, seeing that no Pagan could be found; and yet
sadly, because He did not like to miss out any part of the glorious Office:
──and, as He passed, He blessed the faithful who knelt by the roadside, crowding
the Piazza San Giovanni Laterano.
   "When He reached that spot, there stood Amelio and Amico, right before His
eyes. Their appearance was so singular, that the Romans had left them in a
little group by themselves; not being fond of foreigners having a mien as of
wild lions, similar to these two boys. For, la sua eccellenza will remember that
it was a long journey on foot, from Lucca to Rome, which they had made, lasting
many weeks, and costing many pains. They had lost their way in forests, living
on nuts and berries, or on wild beasts which they killed with knives. They had
swum rivers, climbed the mountains, and breasted every sort of storm and stress:
and now they stood in Rome, tanned, footsore, hungry, and alone, their clothes
in tatters, their strong limbs bruised, and aching, and their young hearts
faint; but they held heads high, eyes fearless, and boldly faced strange faces;
for, as yet, they knew not whether they would be treated well, or ill. And to
them came the Santo Padre Costantino.
   "When He saw these two mighty boys of foreign aspect,──all the same as your
Vittorio and Otone, sir,──and marked how that they did not kneel to Him, as did
the Romans, for they lacked knowledge, not respect; then the heart of La Sua
Santita leaped for joy, and He was aware that the Padre Eterno had been very
merciful, having sent Him, not one Pagan, but two, and altogether splendid
examples, whose conversion would be quite creditable to all concerned. And the
Santo Padre reined up His mule, looking on Amelio and Amico with much love,
saying to them, `Dear children have you the happiness of being Christians?'
   "Amelio and Amico courteously answered that they did not know whether they
were Christians; but certainly they were friends.
   "The Santo Padre would know whether they desired another Friend, Who was very
loving, and very strong.
   "Amelio and Amico answered, No; because a new friend might try to separate
them, one from the other.
   "The Santo Padre said that the Friend of Whom He spoke, was not that kind of
friend, being One Who would knit true friendship closer.
   "Amelio and Amico answered, that such a Friend as that was greatly to their
liking; and they enquired whether they might know His Name.
   "The Santo Padre said, that He was called the Signor Cristo.
   "Amelio and Amico answered, that the Name sounded very well; but they did not
know this Signor Cristo.
   "The Santo Padre said that nevertheless the Signor Cristo knew them, and had
wished them so well that He had died for love of them.
   "Amelio and Amico asserted this to have been done without their knowledge;
for, if that they had known this generous Signor, and His surpassing Love, they
would have lost their lives for Him, rather than have Him lose His Life for
them. Friendship demanded that, at least; they said. But, seeing that the Signor
Cristo had died before they knew Him, what use was there for more words?
   "The Santo Padre answered that this Signor Cristo was a King; and, by His
admirable power, He had conquered death, and was alive for evermore. Also, the
Santo Padre said, that this same Signor Cristo, living in a distant country more
beautiful than eyes had ever seen, had sent Him Who was speaking, to offer
eternal Friendship for the acceptance of these two boys.
   "Amelio looked at Amico: Amico looked at Amelio. Each read assent in the eyes
of the other. Therefore, they said, that they were ready to swear a friendship
with the Signor Cristo, without prejudice to the friendship already sworn at the
Baths of Lucca.
   "The Santo Padre would know in what manner they had sworn; and Amelio and
Amico told Him how that each himself had wounded, giving to the other his blood
to drink, so that they might be one in blood, in sæcula sæculorum amen.
   "Then, the Santo Padre, saying that He knew a better ceremony than that, took
Amelio and Amico into the Church of San Giovanni Laterano; and, at the appointed
time, having stripped them of their rags, He plunged the tired way-worn bodies
of these half-wild boys beneath cool water in the baptistery, saying, `Amelio,'
or `Amico, Ego te baptizo, in Nomine Patris, et Filij, et Spiritus Sancti.'
Also, He marked a cross upon their lion-like brows, bidding them to know it for
the Sign of the Signor Cristo; and He clothed them in clean white tunicles of
coan cloth, whose bordures were of purple, resembling the Sangue Preciossissimo
of their new Friend, the Signor Cristo. And, so, Amelio and Amico were made good
Christians, to the immense admiration of the crowd standing by.
   "After this, Papa Costantino took them to live with Him in His palace; for it
would be altogether a foolish thing to neglect a person's body, if that you wish
to save his soul;──oh, in those antick times, they had some sense:──and,
presently, when they were well-instructed in Christian Doctrine, and recovered
from the dolorous hardships of their journey, La Sua Santita sent them to the
court of the Emperor Carlomagno, with a letter which required his majesty to
treat them handsomely and to give them an education.
   "When that sublime sovereign had read the letter of the Santo Padre, and had
seen these boys to be very splendid creatures, likely to do him credit, he made
them pages of his presence; and let them learn the use of weapons, and the
duties of a court, with other noble boys who served him, according to the custom
of that age.
   "These foreign boys had no love for the Friends of Lucca, being jealous that
the Lord Emperor should let his favour shine upon them; but Amelio and Amico
were happy each in other, and did not need to go about to seek for friends. At
all times, to their rivals, they showed generous courtesy, as was to be
expected; and they easily surpassed them in exercises of high nobility.
Wherefore, those pages became more than jealous of Amelio and Amico, hating them
with bitter hatred, and taunting them in secret with bad words. And soon Amelio
became of the age of nineteen years; eighteen Amico. Their illustrious deeds had
placed them high in the favour of the Emperor Carlomagno, who raised them from
the conlegium of pages to make them knights of his guard; and always their
friendship, each for other, remained impregnable. Then their enemies, on fire
with malice or imbecility, thought to destroy them by sowing discord.
   "It happened that the lion-like Amico led in marriage a girl called Gisela,
because he felt that marriage would give him satisfaction. And the envious pages
chose a scoundrel of their number, called Ebbo, in whose mouth they put cunning
words.
   "It was the marriage-feast. Amico sat with the head of Gisela on his breast.
Guests were merry, drinking wine, and beginning to scatter nuts to boys who
scrambled for them on the floor. But Amelio had no mind for mirth; and, at Ave
Maria, he left the feast, drinking on leaving, as the custom is, to the love of
Sangiovannino detto Il Divino.
   "He strolled out into the forest, where he might be alone, and to him came
Ebbo, speaking courteously enough, concerning trees, birds, weapons, the
loveliness of Gisela, the bravery of Amico. Also, he dared to suppose that day
to see the end of the curious friendship between Amico and Amelio.
   "When Amelio asked him very sharply for a reason, he said that Gisela would
take care of that: whereat Amelio drove a crashing fist into his face; saying
sternly, `You have lied in your hairy throat;' and waiting, while the lout found
footing, and spat teeth. Then Amelio said, `Let me tell you, sir, that in
speaking against the honour of the Lady Gisela who is wife to Ser Amico, you
have spoken against the honour of Ser Amico, who is friend to me; and in
speaking against the honour of my friend, you speak against my honour, which I
will always vindicate.' He touched his sword, questioning with an action of his
brows. Ebbo answered with bared blade. The lie, and the blow, given, demanded
this. They fought till night, when Amelio slew him, and buried his carrion in
the forest.
   "So was Amelio loyal to his friend Amico, on the point of honour; and he was
not less faithful to him in regard to his spouse at all times, to whom he
yielded the service of a knight, with the kind love of a brother.
   "After a year, during which the sun rose always on the right, and set on the
left side of their bed, Gisela gave twins to Amico, male children full of grace,
with heads like stars, resembling those I have of Beatrice; * requiescat in
pace; and Amelio was glad because his friend Amico had much joy, having given
handsome hostages to fortune.
   "Then, it pleased the Signor Cristo to try the texture of the friendship of
these two Friends of Lucca, sending a terrible trial; and this was the manner of
the same.
   "When the sons of Amico were about six months old, and flourishing like a
pair of amorini, plump, healthy, and delicious as a nosegay, there came a day on
which Amelio paid no visit. Amico was astonished; for never before had a day
passed without salutations and sweet words: but he considered how that Amelio
might be occupied with business of the Emperor Carlomagno; and he left it so.
But, when another two days passed without his friend, nor any news of him, Amico
went to the lodging of Amelio. He found the door unlatched, the bed undisturbed.
He found no sign of any kind, save that the Image of the Signor Cristo
Crucified, which used to hang upon the wall, had disappeared. No one had seen
It, or Amelio, go.
   "With dolour was the heart of Amico torn. All night he grieved, so that he
could not sleep. Gisela lay with her babes, alone; but, at his stool of prayer,
Amico knelt, praying to his Friend, the Signor Cristo, to Whom he cried
continually, `O Friend of friends, why has Amelio left me? And whither has he
gone? If that You had sent him some great joy, he would have told me, and would
have let me take a share. But he has told me nothing; and is gone away.
Therefore, I say this,──You have not sent him joy, but dolour; and now, all the
more, I demand my share of that, because he is my friend. I say, that I demand
this as my right; and You must say where You have hidden Amelio in his pain: or
You are no true Friend to me, O Signor Cristo!'
   "The Signor Cristo, sitting on His throne beyond the stars, heard the plaint
of Amico. The Signor Cristo smiled to Sangiovannino detto Il Divino, who is
God's Own Darling, standing very near His throne; having pleasure that the
Pattern of Friendship, which He had deigned to set, should be so well
exemplified. The company of heaven became aware of the pleasure of the Signor
Cristo; and all the gods who had been friends while living in the world, and
who, now, are friends in paradise, came clustering to watch Amico stand his
trial.
   "All night long Amico cried to Him.
   "When it was near the break of day, the Signor Cristo considered the first
stage of the trial to have been passed with credit. To the gods who stood by, He
put this point. Their kind eyes moved not from the passion of Amico, so true,
──so constant;──their hearts were full of love; they breathed no word: they only
signified assent with their immortal eyebrows.
   "The Signor Cristo envoyed an angel to Amico, at the break of day; who said,
`My Master bids me say, So far, well done, thou good and faithful friend. Also,
He would know whether thou wishest to bear further dolour, for the sake of
friendship, without wavering.'
   "`Lord Angel, it is enough for a friend to be as his Friend, a servant as his
Master. I will bear all:' Amico said.
   "To him, the angel answered, `Go then, to such and such a place in the
forest, where thou shalt find Amelio, and receive new dolour.'
   "Amico tarried for mass; but not for meat. He stood not upon the order of his
going; but he went, following the guidance of his angel. All the long day he
went; and, at Ave Maria, he espied a lonely figure kneeling by a tree in prayer.
It was Amelio. Amico, at a distance, called to him words of love. But, when
Amelio heard, he rose; and, in a voice whose accents might not be denied, he
forbade Amico to approach, wrapping his hands in his cloak, meanwhile; veiling
his face.
   "Amico was amazed that his friend should use him so; and, at a space of
ground which one might cover saying two Ave Marias, he stayed his steps; saying
very gently, that he was come in friendship to share the dolour of his friend.
   "And Amelio answered, `O well-beloved, I knew that thou wouldst wish to share
my dolour; therefore I fled, lest harm should touch thee. For the Signor Cristo
has been pleased to send me a dolour which I must bear alone.'
   "Amico said that he meant no disrespect to the Signor Cristo; but he would
not have it so.
   "Amelio answered, `But thou canst never share this dolour, for it is personal
to me.'
   "Amico asked what might be this dolour; and why Amelio veiled his face,
suffering no approach, nor the embraces of his sworn friend.
   "Amelio answered, `O, my Amico, the Signor Cristo has deigned to smite my
body with a dire disease; and, though my heart is bursting with my love, yet I
may never touch thee, nor let thee breathe my tainted breath, lest thou become
as I am. Therefore, in secret, I am fled away; and here I will live where no man
lives, until the Signor Cristo bids me come clean to Him.'
   "`O friend,' Amico said, `surely some leech might heal thee?'
   "But Amelio let the cloak fall from his face. It was as white as dead snow.
Beneath the trees, he stripped himself. He was all as white as dead snow. He
uttered no word. In silence, he showed all his dolour to his friend, hiding no
particular of his shame. He was like the leper in the Evangel.
   "Amico knew. The horror of knowledge froze his blood. He could not speak, nor
move one limb for horror. Amelio cried to him, `Farewell──Farewell──Farewell──'
and vanished among the thickets.
   "Night in the forest. Night in the soul of Amico.
   "He left the place with faltering step. Hot were his eyes with tears, which
manlihood kept unshed. There was choking rage in his throat. He forgot his wife,
the Lady Gisela. His ears were deaf to the cooing of his little sons. He flung
himself before his Image of the Signor Cristo Crucified. No words would come
from his paralysed lips: but, in his soul, he gasped, `O Signor Cristo, if that
You want anything of mine, take it, for the sake of Amelio, my friend.'
   "The Signor Cristo heard. He looked upon the shining gods, and said, `O
younger brothers of Mine, here, at last, are very faithful friends! For the
trial of his friendship Amelio is smitten with leprosy. For the sake of the
friend he loves, he deprives himself of the love of his friend. But Amico, also,
wills a sacrifice for the sake of his love for his friend. Let us see whether
the loyalty of these two will remain constant after the last Trial.'
   "And, from the Signor Cristo, an angel flew to Amico, with this message, that
La Sua Maestà most mercifully condescended to accept, as a sacrifice for the
healing of Amelio, the lives of his little sons.
   "Amico leaped up. His visage had the fierceness of a lion. `Is He as cruel as
that?' he said.
   "The angel answered, `He is not cruel; but He knows.'
   "Then Amico said, `I thank you, O Signor Cristo. I, also, will know.
Therefore, you shall have my sons; for I am true to You, as I am loyal to my
friend Amelio.'
   "He took his little sons, sleeping. He wrapped them in his cloak, still
sleeping. He thrust a knife into his boot; and hied him to the forest as the day
was breaking. At sunset he came to a little brook, buried amid trees, whereby he
found his friend Amelio, also sleeping.
   "Amico approached. Now, he had no fear; but only faith. He took his little
sons on his left arm: his right hand gripped the knife. He held their heads over
the body of his friend,──white as dead snow: he laid cold steel across their
throats. The innocent babes awoke; and looked up in their young father's face,
smiling at him like flowers, as he was about to kill them. He drew the keen
blade through their throats, slashing clean and deep from hilt to point. The
little smiling heads fell to the ground: and, on the body of Amelio, white as
dead snow, blood poured like purple rain. And, by the mercy of the Signor
Cristo, Amelio awakened from his sleep, and sprang up with his health all whole,
and his body noble as a god.
   "When he saw Amico, in an agony between grief for his murthered babes and joy
for his friend restored, Amelio said, `O friend, have you done this for me!' His
angel whispered in his ear. He took the lily children from their father. He laid
them down. He put the head to each. He signed them with the Sign * of our
salvation. And, immediately, the Signor Cristo gave new life; and the babes
awoke from death; and lived, wearing always round their throats a rosy scar,
until the gate of paradise was opened to them, after long years.
   "Amico their father, and his friend Amelio were happy each in love of other.
They lived to prime, always doing illustrious deeds, until the children were
well grown, and well bred in piety and high nobility: then, in a battle against
a wicked king of Lombardia, the Signor Cristo raised them to His Kingdom, giving
to each a diadem of oak and ivy, that all the company of heaven might know these
generous Friends of Lucca for models of friendship and true love, such as I see
growing, between the very gracious Vittorio and the very resplendent Otone, on
this the birthday of la sua eccellenza."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XVIIJ

ABOUT THE PENANCE OF PAISALETTRIO

OTONE (deinos, whom I called The Goth, having acquired him at Milan on account
of his fiery hair, and his gigantick mien of barbarian) was driving the mules to
bathe. He rode a barebacked one of cream-colour, matching his own skin; and, at
the distance, resembled a young centaur; for he was a very daring rider, and sat
his mount with indivisible conjunction.
   I watched these animals as they frolicked at the water's edge.
   There is a point to the N.N.W. of the Tower of San Felice, where the shallow
shore ends abruptly, and you drop into water of twenty cubits and a span. Otone
was ignorant of this, (indeed, none of us knew it till afterwards); and, riding
in their rear, he drove his charges out to sea; with the result that, from
wading, they plunged into an unknown depth. Then they lost their heads, and
there was a scene of indescribable disorder. Otone swam his mule round and
round, and through and through, the snorting crowd lashing hooves at him,
refusing obedience. He was not their master now. He turned his own beast to the
shore, and landed her. He leaped into the sea, (he was the most magnificent
swimmer), and tried to catch another. But, as well might he have tried to halter
the white steeds of Poseidon. The mules were wild. It was one boy against many
monsters; and I waited to see him brained and drowned.
   On the nick, entered Toto Ephoros, inevitably adjuvant, flinging away a
towel. He bestrode my pony, riding like the wind.
   Into the deep he dashed; and slid off the pony. With his right arm he swam
alongside; with his left he gripped the beast and the bridle. Avoiding Otone in
the thick of the fray, he swam the pony among stragglers on the left, and thence
right out to sea. The mules tossed heads, sniffed, fell into line, followed. He
led them for some distance; and, curving to the right, returned. In shallows, he
remounted; and gained dry land with all the mules behind him, cowed,
commandable.
   The boys ran down and hobbled them; while Toto spoke severely to Otone at his
emergence; who stood attentive, humbled, indignantly sheepish. Imagine a
sheepish lion, please!
   Presently, I caught Toto's eye. I beckoned. He finished a scathing exordium
to Otone, (exordium which I could not hear, but read from gesture and
expression); resumed his towel, and climbed up to my perch.
   "That was rather good," I said; in praise of andragathema.
   He was shaking the sea from his hair, and panting after his exertion; but he
smiled, and acknowledged the compliment.
   "What were you saying to Otone?"
   "Just that he was a fool, sir."
   "Why? It was an accident: and I consider him to have behaved bravely."
   "Well, perhaps bravely; and that was his duty. But accident? No. It was
ignorance, sir. All these many weeks, that boy has seen the pony in front of the
mules when we are travelling. He thinks that it is there only to prevent la sua
eccellenza from being discommoded by the dust. He never troubled himself about
looking for all reasons. He was content with that one. Yet he rides always in
the rear, where he might see many things without looking. I──Teodoro──ride in
front with you, sir; and, from that situation, I have remarked the mules to
follow, giving no trouble, when the pony leads. Otone──beautiful giant, strong
and agile of body;──plain dwarf, feeble and lazy of mind──has seen nothing. It
is ignorance, sir; not accident."
   "I, myself, was ignorant of this, O ingenious one."
   "Vere dignum et iustum est, æquum et salutare, that Don Friderico should be
ignorant of mules. The charge of mules has not been laid upon you, sir. For you,
pictures of the gods, and the guidance of the flying quill, and the study of
printed things. And to the cult of these you bring all curiosity, all knowledge,
all devotion. Vittorio to his cookery; Ercole and Desiderio, Ilario and my
Guido, each to his own employment; and I, to all, bring ardour to make perfect
what we know, and curiosity to invent fresh knowledge. For one knows very
little; and everything in the world is waiting to be learned. Yah!──Let Otone
learn mules first, mules second, and mules for all eternity. And then there will
be one mule which he does not know."
   Gumnephebos went on drying his hair with the towel.
   He had been a naughty boy:──over-ate himself hideously on Sunday, made
himself quite ill; ran away to Vieste on Sunday evening; spent the night and
Monday there; came back at hestern sunset, penitent; confessed the usual, for
which I whipped him in private, without compunction, and without reserve: and he
spent last night in, or near, the sea. After these outbreaks of natural
naughtiness, salt water was the adscititious penance which he inflicted on
himself, as a work of supererogation. It was his firm innate conviction that the
sea, which made his wounds to tingle, was a moral as well as a physical
purifier. And, certainly, he emerged from prolonged solitary swims with all his
virtues furbished up to the fine point to which expression has been given.
   "But, tell me another thing, Toto. You know that you yourself have done a
brave enough deed. Otone, for whom you have no love, was in peril. The mules
were wild,──dangerous. And you risked your life. Why did you do that?"
   "Not my life, sir, but my death. One's death is an easy thing to give; and of
little value to the giver. Anyone, even a guardian-of-the-publick-safety, would
give his death to save a stranger's. It is a duty. But to live,──sir, it is very
difficult to live,──to live for some other! Well, one can only do that, when
that other is one's friend;──when one loves. As for Otone, he is not my friend.
Therefore, I throw him my death as I would throw him a silver five-pence. It may
be of some use to him. It is nothing to me.──Also, I did it for a penance;" he
added, assuming a chitoniskos anakolos.
   "Penance?"
   "Yes, sir; penance. I have been a wicked boy since Sunday. Last night I
confessed. I am truly contrite. I am forgiven. Now, I must pay my debt. Part, I
paid with my flesh to the twigs of la sua eccellenza. Part, to Domeniddio, with
salt water on my weals. Then, when I saw Otone in peril, my angel-guardian, my
mind's master, shouted in my ear, `To him, Toto!' So I went. I have saved him.
Also, the mules. Don Friderico looks on me with favour. I have obeyed my angel-
guardian. I am clean. I am happy. Houp-la!"
   He was dressed now, and his exultant eyes sparkled, seven times purified. I
moved into the shade; and gave him a cigarette. "Continue;" I said.
   "Yes, sir, it is quite simple. Penance is one of the few things upon which
you can count for certain. The Padre Eterno has deigned to make laws; not many;
nor troublesome: but just some, and all very necessary. If you obey them; well.
If you disobey them; penance follows──follows disobedience just as lesso follows
minestra. It is short, sharp, inevitable. And you cannot whine, or blame anybody
except yourself; because you get no penance, unless you qualify for it.
   "Observe me with woodcock, and take warning. When there is woodcock for
breakfast, I become a fool. I devour woodcock till my stomach is stiff──but,
stiff! Then I cannot move. I sleep, I snore, I ride a kicking nightmare. At Ave
Maria, I wake with muddy eyes. My head wants to burst. On my tongue there is a
taste resembling hot and rusty sin. Then I become wicked. After that, I go in
penance, because I was greedy, and a fool, also a divel. Then I say that I will
never eat woodcock any more. But, all the same, the next time I see woodcock, I
eat; and, after the rest, I take another penance.
   "Also, when an angel tells you to do a thing, you will be well advised to do
it, for your own sake, if for nothing else; lest a disgrazia should befall you.
   "Formerly, there was a boy called Paisalettrio. He lived in the city of
Ancona in antick times: and he came to a bad end, because he did not pay
attention to the orders of an angel.
   "His mother was a beautiful lady, called the Signora Pafia. Paisalettrio
lived with her, all alone, in a house on the city-wall which had a terrace
looking over the sea.
   "When Paisalettrio was twelve years and six months old, the Signora Pafia
spent her time in pious works; for she was clever with her needle, and she made
admirable pieces of arras, showing pictures of holy personages, which she sold
to hang up in the churches at Christmas, or at Easter, or at other feste. Such
is the arras hanging in the chapel of Our Lady of Dreams at Deira; all
needlework of fine colours, very marvellous, and more pleasing than pictures
painted with a brush, because it can alway be seen from every place, having a
surface which does not shine. In this way, the Signora Pafia employed herself
under the protection of San Gabriele Arcangiolo.
   "Her only angor lay in her little son, this Alettrio of whom I speak; for he
was an unspeakably lazy boy, given to sleeping his days away in some shady
corner of the terrace on the city-wall, or in a couch of soft sand which he
would scratch out on the shore. And at night he would sleep like any Christian.
To be warm, and comfortable, and drowsy, was all that he desired; and his
sleepiness caused him to become as plump as a beccafico: indeed he resembled
Desiderio in his plumpness and his sleepiness. He was a great grief to his
mother, though he was very beautiful,──beautiful as she was;──for it gave her
pain to see him eternally idle. Sometimes she considered that it would be well
that he should die; not because she lacked affection, but because she wished to
have him in safe hands before he took to sin: also, she knew that the Padre
Eterno allows some children to die for the sake of their parents, that these may
have a chance of burying the dead; for whoever buries a virtuous person──a
child, for example,──performs a corporal work of mercy, and obtains pardon for
all iniquities. But Alettrio did not die. Many times, his mother asked him to
help her in her work, holding her skeins, sorting her colours, threading her
needles. But when she woke him, and demanded this, he only said, `Tomorrow;' and
curled his little plump limbs again in sleep. He thought that there was no
necessity for him to do anything, except just to be beautiful; and that he did
to perfection, as everyone could see. So his mother took consolation from the
thought that, after all, one cannot have everything; and that the Padre Eterno
had shown her much favour, in giving her a son more sweet and exquisite than any
amorino ever seen, for which she offered thanks each day, remembering that a
fine appearance is worth much gold.
   "Now, on a certain day, the protector of the Signora Pafia──that is to say,
San Gabriele Arcangiolo,──chanced to have no particular business on his hands;
and, as an archangel cannot bear to sit idle, he resolved to make a little
journey to the city of Ancona, that he might give himself the pleasure of
looking at the arras in the churches. So, having made himself invisible, he flew
down from paradise; and he spent several hours, going from church to church,
admiring the needlework pictures, worked by the Signora Pafia, which hung upon
the walls, as well as those which he found folded up in presses in the
sacristies, only to be brought out when it was necessary to decorate the
churches in a special manner for some important festa.
   "In the Church of the Archangels, he became very sad: for, though this church
was dedicated to the honour of him, and of the other princes, his brothers, he
could not find a single picture in likeness of himself, or of them, either on
the walls, or in the presses of the sacristy.
   "This was a condition of affairs which no archangel could be expected to bear
with an even mind. It showed the devotion of the people of Ancona towards his
highness, and towards their highnesses the other princes, his brothers, to be
very cool indeed. Therefore, being invisible, he went and whispered in her ear,
demanding of the Signora Pafia whether she considered herself to be behaving
properly in neglecting to make a needlework presentment of his person, that all
the world might have the honour of seeing him as he is.
   "The Signora Pafia answered, that she would use her needle very gladly to
make his likeness, if she knew the way: but that he had never deigned to show
himself to her, nor had the other princes, his brothers.
   "San Gabriele Arcangiolo said, that what they did was one thing, and what he
did was another. They were old enough to look after their own interests. If they
did not choose to have their likenesses made by her, he did so choose. And he
bade her to hold herself in readiness to receive him privately that same night,
when he would grant her the grace of a vision of him as he is; and, also, would
show her in what way to work his likeness in arras, similar to the arras hanging
in the churches and palaces of paradise.
   "Then San Gabriele Arcangiolo returned to his duties for the remainder of the
day, showing himself freely as usual to the angels and to the gods, in order
that no one should suspect him of planning to escape into the world at
nightfall.
   "The Signora Pafia, on her part, made her preparations; sweeping her house,
and decking it with fresh flowers, with sweet herbs on the floor; washing
herself from head to foot, and putting on her festal habits, in honour of her
guest. Also, she arranged her coloured linens, her needles, and her threads, and
all things necessary for working pictures in arras.
   "When the night was dark, down in the world, San Gabriele Arcangiolo watched
his opportunity. As soon as the gods and the angels had settled themselves for a
pleasant evening with their friends, he descended to the house on the sea wall
of the city of Ancona. He had taken the greatest care that no one should suspect
his absence from paradise, because he wished to have his likeness made in arras
before the other princes, his brothers. It would not be the first time that he
had set a fashion; for he is of a disposition which avoids a second place, when
a little cleverness will win the first. He copies no one; and, as I have said,
that ordinary archangels should do certain things in certain ways, is a
sufficient reason for San Gabriele Arcangiolo to do the same things in other and
better ways. He is an original. And enjoys the taking of pains.
   "When he alighted on the terrace before the house of the Signora Pafia, by an
act of will he made himself as small as a large handsome youth like Vittorio,
that is to say, of more than four cubits in height; in order that he might not
be a terror to the lady by reason of his tremendous size: but, of course, being
an archangel, no change could diminish by an atom his royal beauty.
   "It was a fine hot night in summer. The sea was smooth as glass; and the sky
was clear.
   "He entered the door of the house, saying, `I am San Gabriele Arcangiolo who
stand before Domeniddio, and I am come to speak to you.'
   "The Signora Pafia kneeled down, and kissed the floor before his feet,
saying, Angelus fortis Gabriel, ut hostes pellat antiquos, et amica cælo, quæ
triumphator statuit per orbem, templa revisat, and the rest.
   "And San Gabriele Arcangiolo taught her, and spoke to her, and said, `O lady,
I am come now that I may teach you, and that you may understand many things.'
   "Then she led him into the room wherein she was used to work; and she shewed
all her materials ready, the coloured linens, the thread, the needles, the
scissors, and the wax.
   "But, before beginning the business which had brought him down, San Gabriele
Arcangiolo said that someone must keep watch, in order that he might be able to
return to paradise before the break of day. He went to the bed where the plump
little Alettrio was sleeping; and he picked him out, all drowsy, just as he was;
and he put him on the terrace in the moonlight; telling him to sit there, and to
keep his eyes open, and to watch the distance where the edge of heaven's dome
seems to rest upon the sea. He must not lose sight of that for an instant: and,
directly he saw a thin knekine streak run along that edge, he must step into the
house, and give warning. Did he understand?
   "Alettrio answered, `Yes, my lord archangel;' and he sat down by the door of
the house, and fixed his drowsy eyes upon the far-off edge of heaven's dome.
   "San Gabriele Arcangiolo shut him out, and returned to the Signora Pafia; and
he bade her to take a large sheet of coarse linen, coloured like a peacock's
breast, and to stretch it on a frame about six cubits high and four cubits wide.
   "When this was done, he drew upon the linen with his finger; and, wherever
his unerring finger went, white lines appeared as bright as nacre, having about
a thumb's breadth.
   "On her knees, the Signora Pafia watched this marvel; and, there, was a
veritable likeness of San Gabriele Arcangiolo as he is, all drawn in white lines
on the linen coloured like a peacock's breast.
   "He explained that the white lines must be left as they were; but that the
spaces variously shaped, which they enclosed, must be filled with linen pieces
of the proper colours: he took the scissors, and visited the stock of coloured
linens.
   "There, he chose a piece of silver-colour shot with rose; and he cut from it
the shapes of his dalmatick, his amyct, and his stola, and the shape of his
wings. These, he laid in their proper places, on the linen coloured like a
peacock's breast; and he bade the Signora Pafia to sew them there with silver-
coloured thread.
   "While she was doing that, he chose a piece of flesh-coloured linen; and he
cut from it the shapes of his face and neck, of his hands and arms from which
wings sprang, and also of his swift feet. These, he laid in their proper places,
on the linen coloured like a peacock's breast; and he bade the Signora Pafia to
sew them there with flesh-coloured thread.
   "While she was doing that, he chose a piece of snow-white linen; and he cut
from it the shapes of his hair, of his albe, of his scroll, and of the blooms of
his lily. These, he laid in their proper places, on the linen coloured like a
peacock's breast, and he bade the Signora Pafia to sew them there with snow-
white thread.
   "His highness cut the stem and the leaves of his lily from green linen; the
pearls of his coronet, of his apparels, of his orfreys, from pearl-coloured
linen; the shape of his halo, of his coronet, and of his winged sandals from
gold-coloured linen. These, he laid in their proper places, upon the linen
coloured like a peacock's breast; and he bade the Signora Pafia to sew them
there with green thread, and pearl-coloured thread, and gold-coloured thread.
   "He put his fiery swiftness into her hands, so that her fingers flew; and his
likeness came upon the arras in an hour, as though by magick art. But the
naughty boy Alettrio, outside, had put his forehead on his knees, and his plump
arms round his leg; and, so, he fell asleep.
   "San Gabriele Arcangiolo bade the Signora Pafia to observe that her work was
not yet finished. He bade her to take threads of shadow-colour, and to work
lines upon the linens, till the noble contours of him shone through the silver
dalmatick, and through the snow-white albe, as through a film of gossamer. And,
so, he made her work the features of his face, the fingers of his hands, the
toes of his feet, the feathers on his winged arms, the leaves and the petals of
his lily, the shadows on his coronet and on his winged sandals, and the folds of
his vestments of arcidiacono. Round the rim of his halo, he bade her to work the
letters,

                          EGO SVM GABRIEL ARCHANGELVS

and the letters on his scroll,

                             AVE MARIA GRATIA PLENA

   "Here was as much work as seven and thirty ladies could do in seven and
thirty months; but San Gabriele Arcangiolo caused the fingers of the Signora
Pafia to fly so fast, that, in a matter of three hours, the arras was complete,
no stitch remaining to be done. It presented the pale and mystick figure of the
Prince of Fire, more than four cubits high, shining like life upon the linen
coloured like a peacock's breast. Oh, an admirable work! And he told the Signora
Pafia to use her skill, and to give him a bordure of a cubit's width, of
fiordalisi, blue on gold, which she could do at her leisure and without his aid.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "While these things were being done in the house on the sea-wall of the city
of Ancona, other things were being done in paradise. For the hours of night had
slipped away to rest; and, at last, the Padre Eterno deigned to give the signal
for a new day to be born. San Michele Arcangiolo brought to the gate his halo,
flaming with the Fire of God; and, there, he placed it on the chariot which
Sant' Auroraele Arcangiolo, successor of Lucifero, drives slowly round the
outside of the wall of gold, to burn up any unclean opinions which apish dæmons
may have expressed there while the night was dark. The silly world calls this
Fire the sun. In truth, it is the flaming halo of San Michele Arcangiolo; and,
when he places it on the chariot, a thin pale yellow streak runs along the
distance where the edge of heaven's dome seems to rest upon the sea. Then, all
the little kings and princes of the world put on their little crowns, and adore
the Maker of the Sun; and the whole orb of the earth turns round and round to
win its light and heat in every part, so that men may wake from sleep, and go to
mass, and work, and play, while the birds burst into song, and fruit and flowers
raise their heads to smile in bloom.
   "Well: the narrow knekine streak ran along the distance, where the edge of
heaven's dome seems to rest upon the sea; but the boy Alettrio slept on. He saw
no light. He gave no warning. He was happy, so happy, sleeping in the cool air;
and his dreams were dreams of pleasure.
   "The chariot of the sun left the gate of paradise; and began its journey
round the wall of gold. As it moved, the city of Ancona moved to meet it; and
the sky broke out in rays of dazzling light.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   San Michele Arcangiolo was making his morning round on the ramparts of
heaven, and his eyes happened to rest on the terrace on the sea-wall down below.
He saw there a boy sleeping with his forehead on his knees, and plump arms
clasped round his legs. His highness considered it to be a strange place to
choose for slumber, at that early hour; and he flew down straightway, to look a
little closer. Perhaps the boy had lost his friends. Perhaps he had no home.
Perhaps he had been deserted by cruel parents. Such things have been known to
happen. At all events, a boy sleeping on a terrace, altogether as though he
were, and at an hour when he ought to be, in bed, was a matter which needed a
looking into. All angels love boys, being boys themselves; and San Michele
Arcangiolo descended from heaven to see whether this one required him for his
champion.
   "But when his highness alighted on the terrace, he heard voices speaking,
within the house. He crept to the window and took a peep. There he saw San
Gabriele Arcangiolo teaching the Signora Pafia to make his likeness in arras,
all quite happy and comfortable. He looked behind him; and there was plump
Alettrio asleep outside the door.
   "The Great Prince was back again in paradise before a flea could hop once; he
called upon the other archangels to share his mirth. There was that Prince of
Fire, he said, down there in a private house, teaching a lady to make his
likeness in arras, he said. The slyness of him, he said! The vanity of him, he
said! To go and try to steal a march upon the princes, his brothers, he said!
And to get his likeness made in arras on the quiet, he said! Proh pudor, he
said!
   "And San Michele Arcangiolo brought the other archangels down, to the house
on the sea-wall of the city of Ancona, to prove his words. One by one, those
princes peeped through the little window; and they saw San Gabriele Arcangiolo
teaching a lady to make his likeness in arras. And they watched; and they
waited.
   "Presently San Gabriele Arcangiolo heard a lot of little chuckles; and, when
he looked at the window, behold! a row of grinning archangels, pointing fingers
at him, saying, `Ah, sly-boots, we can see, we can see! Ah, sly-boots, caught
you there, caught you there!'
   "The Signora Pafia was confused by the honour paid to her poor house; but San
Gabriele Arcangiolo burst into a rage, and shouted, `Where is that confounded
boy whom I set to keep watch?'
   "He rushed to the door.
   "There sat the plump little Alettrio, sleeping──sleeping,──his forehead on
his knees, his arms clasped round his legs.
   "San Gabriele Arcangiolo seized him by the hair, and woke him; saying,
`Miserable little rascal, what is the meaning of this?'
   "Alettrio rubbed his drowsy eyes, and stared.
   "`Did I not tell you to watch for the yellow streak, and to warn me when the
dawn of day was near?' San Gabriele Arcangiolo demanded.
   "`Yes, my lord archangel,' Alettrio said.
   "`Then, why have you disobeyed me?' San Gabriele Arcangiolo would know.
   "`If you please, my lord archangel, I slept too long,' Alettrio said.
   "`Slept too long, indeed!' San Gabriele Arcangiolo continued. `Who gave you
leave to sleep at all, I should like to know? Sink of sin that you are! Here's a
pretty pickle! Look at all these princes who mock me! All through your
abominable laziness!──Does this boy go to mass, Signora Pafia? No? Cannot get
him out of his bed? Ah, I thought not! Always sleeps too long, does he? I'll
teach you to sleep too long, my boy! I'll have a change; or I'll know the reason
why! Now listen to me!'
   "`Yes, my lord archangel,' unhappy Alettrio said.
   "`From this time forth, for evermore, when the first narrow knekine streak
runs along the distance where the edge of heaven's dome seems to rest upon the
sea, you shall wake from sleep, and you shall sing aloud to warn the world that
daybreak is at hand. That is your penance, Paisalettrio,' San Gabriele
Arcangiolo said. He gave a sign.
   "At this, the pretty pink toes of the disobedient boy shrivelled, and became
sharp and thin, with claws, three in front, and a longer one behind. His pretty
plump legs shrivelled and became covered with scaly skin. His knees slipped
round to the back. His pretty plump body burst out into feathers, brown, red,
and yellow, and a little white. His pretty plump arms became wings which he
flapped, and black-with-green plume ended him. His nose and chin became sharp
and hard as horn, and snapped together like a beak. His drowsy eyes became alert
and fiery red, and slipped back to where his ears had been. Under his pretty
plump chin, the skin became scarlet, and dropped with the weight of blood. His
hair also became scarlet, and stood up high and fierce upon his head.
   "`* Be a cock,' San Gabriele Arcangiolo commanded.
   "And Alettrio became a cock.
   "He sprang up and tip-toed, all alert and bright, upon the sea-wall of the
city of Ancona; and he sang aloud to all the world, `Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-
doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!' which is as much as to say, `Get out of your
beds, you lazy scamps; and say your prayers, and go to mass, and do your work,
and play your play, and sleep your sleep; and never, never, never, shut your
ears against the orders of an angel!'

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "So, sir, whenever I hear the cock crowing before the break of day, I say
some pious words for the soul of the plump little Paisalettrio of Ancona; that,
when the ultimate day of judging shall arrive, he may be found to have made
satisfaction by his penance; and to have merited the greatest happiness, for
always."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XVIIIJ

ABOUT OUR LADY OF DREAMS

THERE was no sleep for me.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   How many hours I wasted, wooing sleep, I do not know. How many prayers I
prayed to the gods in their content, I cannot say. How many charms and
incantations I purveyed to those antick beings who, according to most
respectable authorities, are no more than names,──they are all written in the
book of my deeds, on a page which I have not seen.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   There was no sleep for me.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   On this single summer night, a fire burned for no cause in my brain.
Thoughts, ideas, fantasies, problems to be solved, came, thick and fast, without
and against my will. It seemed as though some kakodaimon rode my intellect,
riding to delirium with whip and spur. Lying there, as still as death, clutching
crucifix and rosary, and the miniature of my dead, my closed eyes saw myself as
I was, driven from my road, my life's career wrecked, blocked, checked,
──whichever you will,──thrown out of my stride, thwarted in my sole ambition,
utterly useless. Other men envied the freedom which was mine; they would have
welcomed the happiness, and health, and power, which were offered to me in
mocking substitution for the bonds I craved. But not I. That would be too
common. I was wretched. I was near distraction. No drug would give me peace. No
prayer, rest.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   There was no sleep for me.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   I opened the mosquito net; and lighted a lamp, and a cigarette. I tried to
read Cardinal Franzelin's De Ecclesia. But, at the foot of every page, I knew
that I knew nothing of the printed words. They pierced no deeper than my eyes;
for the uncontrollable mechanism of my brain was occupied with other things. I
extinguished the light, and beat my pillow till it was cool and soft; and again
I tried to sleep. Fresh theories of life, of death, of loveliness, of love,
arose like phantoms; and marched to scale the plateau of my imagination. But,
when the first head came in sight, I ascended the chariot of Will, and grasped
the reins; and, resolutely, I crushed my foes. Each in his turn, systematically,
monotonously, I stamped them down, refusing parley or quarter.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   The weight of the bulk of dead ideas which I had slain, weighed heavily.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   I was barely conscious, now; and I knew that victory was mine.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   The stress of conflict was dying away. I passed into the grey haze
surrounding the kingdom of sleep. I was near──oblivion.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   With a shock, I fell;──fell into the clear black pit of sleep: and, turning
sharply on my pillow, I was wide awake again.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   There was no sleep for me.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   I got out of my hammock, and found my slippers and a gown. I took a soft
white bath-towel for a cloak; and sauntered through my tent door into the
moonlight of the forest of La Guardiola.
   How cool, how delicious it was! How soft, how fresh, the air! How exquisite
the fragrance of juniper, and honeysuckle, and lentiscus,──of the breath of
earth asleep! I kicked away my slippers, and let my feet revel in the velvet
turf. Through the trees, where the valley descended to the sea, I saw the silver
water all a-shine. The mountain-sides of breccia were clothed with solemn
beeches, and ilexes, thickets of pine, giant fennel, brank-ursine, and wild
artichoke, like the black-blue of peacock's eyes in shadow, and like frosted
silver where the moonlight's magick played upon them. The glade was carpeted
with silver, of such admirable clarity that every blade of grass was dignified.
The distance melted into solitudes, vast recesses and profundities, mysterious,
obscure. Overhead, the leaves and branches of the trees hung in net-work and
arabesks of silver filagree, laced with the diamond webs of spiders; and, higher
yet, behind this veil, the sky, a dome of heliotrope sown with stars, wherein
the lambent moon was sailing, in a plenitude of majesty, high above the sea.
   I peeped into the other tent, where my seven deadly sins were sleeping. They
slept, having no minds to torture themselves withal. The curtains at both ends
were open; and the seven hammocks swayed gently in stillness. There was a plate
of honey and dead insects, with a lanthorn standing on the ground, whose glimmer
gave little gleaming passages of gold. The pure breath of these boys was like a
posy. Their mothers must have lived on citrons. They were unknowing; and,
therefore, happy: and they slept. I turned away.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   There was no sleep for me.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   This was a world carven of cool malachite and lapislazuli, with intricate
broideries and bordures and fringed orfreys of white jade, and alabaster, and
smaragdus, and rock-crystal, obsidian, and basalt, and black jasper, all set
upon a luciferous field of lilac sapphire. The fresh odours of the night were
clean.──I wandered away, till I came to a little point of rock, moss-cushioned.
Here I sat me down, and watched the moon, and the sea. The air was soft and
warm. Caressing.──Surely these silent things would show benignance!──How
admirable was that sky; pale at the horizon, deeper in the height, flecked with
faint shapes and shadows with silver outlines; and, dominating all, the moon,
──the queen.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   The wistful voice of Toto enquired whether I was in want of a companion.
   Looking round, I beheld a slim faun of the forest all in white. A sheet,
draped like a palla, played upon his ankles bare as ivory. His calm eyes
glittered like snow diamonds in the brown rose of his skin. Such a note of black
was his curly head, in the sumphonia of that night! Such a picture! I said that
he might stay.
   He moved beyond; and sat down where his contours were silhouetted on the
silver sea. He was marvellous,──and so still. Presently, I would know why he
came: and he answered, very gently, that he had been dreaming of Beatrice, his
beloved; * requiescat in pace: when his angel whispered that Don Friderico was
in trouble; that, then, he had felt my presence near; and, waking, he had seen
me turn away, and wander to and fro, as one who suffered sadness, silent in
pride. Therefore, he had risen; and, having pinched the others, one by one, not
maliciously but enough, in order to make certain that they slept, he had
followed me; and here he was.
   I gave him my hand: but no words. Everything was so lovely and so pleasant,
that I could almost hear the footsteps of approaching peace.──Makroskelephebos
said that he would go to give order to my bed; and he left me.
   The moon rode high; and the silvered sea glittered in her beams.
   Toto returned to his station, bringing snow-honey, and tobacco, and things;
but I put them away, for the aromatick air had done nothing to deserve
defilement. After a time, he asked, whether I had mentioned to Madonna that I
wanted sleep.
   Indignantly I answered, that I had recited four times fifteen mysteries of
the rosary, all to no purpose.
   But, he persisted, had I addressed myself to Our Lady of Dreams?
   To make him speak, and to add to the pleasures of my senses, I answered that
I did not see the good. He picked a branch of myrtle, and waved it while he
spoke.
   "Sir, when I want to ask a favour from you, I do not go to Otone, nor to
Ilario, asking that they should ask for me. No. I am your own chosen slave,
enjoying favour, and of you I have no fear. Therefore I watch you in your moods;
and, when I am satisfied, I come boldly to ask for what I want. Well then! And
Our Lady of Dreams is the mood of Madonnina in which she will refresh her
friends with sleep; and, in the sleep which she will send, there are lovely
angels bringing dreams, to teach you holy mysteries good for the health of your
soul. I think this to be the most courteous mood of Madonnina, kinder than any
other; for sleep is to a troubled mind the supreme mercy. As in a glass darkly,
you have seen her, in her picture in her chapel of Deira, where she walks among
the stars, between earth and heaven, sending dream-angels to instruct some
person in their sleep; to the Signor Patriarc' Abramo, to the Signor Patriarca
Giaccobe, to the Signor Faroa Re, to the Signor Capitano Guidione, to the Gran
Patriarca Sangiuseppe, and to many others. And, there, if only you will look
with faithful eyes resembling mine, you now may see La Sua Immacolata Maestà."
He rose, pointing firmly to the sumptuous sky.
   I admitted that I saw pale stars, and the moon, and faint shadows of peacock-
purple fringed with ostrakon.
   He supplied a noble gesture, with the branch of myrtle. "Sir, that is Our
Lady of Dreams!" He performed a dignified prostration before the moon, as I
should at Elevation, or Exposition, of the Host.
   "Every night that Madonna goes her journey round the world, sometimes early,
sometimes late, sometimes this way, sometimes that way. Always there are, with
her, many million angels for an escort; and persons, who are not faithful, see
them as well as I, who am faithful: but they have not those spacious eyes which
see the whole pageant in a glance, as I see it; for the angels are huge and
vast, and Our Lady of Dreams, also; and persons with little narrow eyes have the
gross stupidity, and impertinence of bronze, to call those shapes merely clouds,
which manifestly are the lights or shadows of the white wings of angels ever-
moving, and the folds of Our Lady's trailing robes of darkest blue. Crowned,
also, is that queen, crowned with the twelve stars, according to the scripture:
and you may see that crown, when the crowd of her innumerable followers is on
the other side, as now. And, in her consecrated hands, she bears the Holy Host,
giving benediction to the world. That is the real truth about the moon. It is
the Great Pearl, the True Light, the Peace which passeth understanding,──Il
Santissimo, Himself."
   This, then, was why Toto adored the moon. I, myself, as a student of the
rare, had often pondered over the supreme and ineffable Whiteness of the Host in
a custodial: a Whiteness not accidental, but essential, dominating the light of
tapers, the whiteness of silk, or satin, or marble, and every circumstance of
illumination, by the force of Its unapproachable purity. It was a beautiful
theory, this──that the moon is the great Host of heaven, giving unending
benediction.
   There was a long pause. Then I said, "But, bad dreams, naughty dreams, o
formose? Surely────"
   "No, sir. Those come not from Our Lady of Dreams, but from the Other; and I
do not know her name: but certainly she is a kakodaimon; for everything is two,
good and bad, light and dark, man and woman, no and yes. As for me, I cannot
tell you about that Other, because I do not meddle with her,──at least, not more
than enough; and, after, I am always very sorry. Ah, yes! Baf!──Shall I go on,
sir? Or shall I dance for you upon this green?" He grasped his drapery, and
fetched a step or two. "Or would you choose to taste a very solemn little song,
sir. Ombra mai fu, sir, with chitarone, sir?"
   "Tell me of a case which Our Lady of Dreams has soothed with sleep,──sleep
which tells you what you want to know."
   "Very well, sir. And the best tale of that species will be the tale of Frat'
Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires. Do you choose that one, sir? Well then──In former
times there was a boy────"
   "Why do you tell me always about boys?"
   "Because, sir, like perceives like; and I, being a boy, know most about my
fellows. You have said that we are amusing, and quaint, not a blot upon the
view; and that some of us, I being one, can tell you of the future, or describe
things happening in distant provinces, reflected in such matters as a bubble, or
a drop of ink upon the finger-nail or palm of hand. Yes. I speak of boys because
I am a boy. But I know of girls, also;──oh, yes, I know girls,──and I have tales
of girls. And I know women, not more than enough: also, some men, and
particularly priests. When I am older, perhaps old people will amuse me. But,
while I am young, I speak of the young; because, being young, I know the young;
and there is my answer. Am I to say more?
   "Well, then, sir, there is a proverb which says, Happy is he who has boys for
his friends; and, therefore,──In──former──times──there──was──a──boy!
   "He was called Diodato, and he was of the age of eighteen years. Also, there
was a girl called Coronata, and she was of the age of sixteen years, and pure;
and Diodato wished her well. Also, in the same village, there was another boy
called Aristide, and he was of the age of nineteen years; and he, also, wished
Coronata well. Diodato was a boy of sound mind, good health, quick wits,
unblemished body, and singular beauty. In summer, he was a shepherd on the
mountain; in winter, he brought his flock into the plain. Having no kin, he
lived alone in a little house,──little house inherited from his dead father.
Coronata was the daughter of a miser who lived in a poor hut, high up, on the
lower bordure of the forest. Aristide was a butcher in the village, fat,
lascivious, greasy, and sallow as boxwood. Also he smelled of blood.
   "And it happened, on a certain festa, that these two boys leaned against a
pillar in the church to hear mass; and Coronata was kneeling near them, but
among the women. Diodato and Aristide saw her; and they wished her well. No one
could complain of that, when it was seen how very rare she was. Only the eyes of
Diodato sparkled. He did not move nor show his love, save by the brightening of
his eyes. Aristide, otherwise, breathed so lustily, shifting his fat from one
foot to the other, that he shook an evil stench of his trade out of him; and
made some nostrils flicker, and Diodato furious, being annoyed that Coronata
should suffer the inconvenience of this stinking hob. And he leaned toward
Aristide, whispering the courteous suggestion that he would do well to give
himself a good sluice down under a pump, before he should come to mass on some
future festa. A greasy scowl and a bad breath were all he got for his
politeness. But, when the mass was finished, he stepped after Coronata; and, in
the piazza, with a chaste mind, and a face a-flame with modest blood, he offered
to her very respectfully the carnation from his cap, saying, `To her beauty.'
The sedate Coronata smiled, as she took his blossom, exulting in her heart with
joy, because of the declaration of the lad whom alone she loved; and she gave
him a `Many thanks.' But Aristide snorted with rage at this; for he had no
flower to offer, and nothing in his cap but grease and blood of beasts. So
Diodato walked with Coronata; making diligent love to her all that day until the
Ave Maria; and, when there was music, he danced industriously with her: and all
the girls envied Coronata her Diodato; while Aristide eyed him with fat eyes
full of hate.
   "Every festa of that summer and autumn, the same thing happened; and Diodato
was known for the chosen lover of Coronata: but sullen Aristide increased in fat
and grease and evil stenches only.
   "One day during the wintry frosts of Capricorn, Coronata and her Diodato were
coming out of church, wrapped in one cloak, for the weather was bitter cold;
but, cold as it was, it had not cooled the rage of Aristide, and boiling hot was
his hatred. As the lovers passed, he came beyond harmony, speaking calumnious
words. And, when they gave him no answer, he emitted a howl of wolf, and rushed
on Coronata, brandishing a terrible knife. But he did not know his Diodato, who
was quick, agile, supple, though so slim and graceful that it would take two of
his size to make one hog like Aristide; and, in an instant, his wrist had been
struck up, his knife sent flying. Coronata screamed, and ran away. Diodato,
raging, sprang like a cat upon the fat and greasy butcher. As well might he have
dashed against a tree; for the bulky carcase of Aristide was solid, insensible
of blows. Therefore, the fight was not a fair one; and, before anyone could say,
`Apoplexy,' the butcher bore with all his weight on Diodato, and crushed him
senseless to the ground. Then he fled; for people were rushing to succour
Diodato, who was a favourite in that village, where every one thought well of
him: but, in wickedness, Aristide determined to do a worse thing for revenge,
and wound the heart of Diodato, as well as knife his back, at a more convenient
time.
   "They carried the shepherd boy to his little house, and washed the wounds
which his head had taken from the ground hard frozen; and Coronata came, and
gave him kisses till he recovered from his swoon. He was weak, and giddy, all
that day; but, to those who stood by, he promised that, in the course of time,
he would show Aristide who was master, in a fair fight, with knives, before
witnesses. And, at nightfall, Coronata went to her poor hut, high up, on the
lower bordure of the forest; and Diodato was left alone.
   "That same night, when all the village slept, Aristide scratched his right
ear, to excite the kakodaimon of revenge who sits there; and then he went
creeping, creeping, towards the lonely hut of Coronata; for he knew that there
was no one with her in the house, her father having gone on business to the
neighbouring city: and he resolved to burst in upon her, in the dark, and, by
sheer force, to help himself to the hoarded moneys of her father, and to loosen
her girdle of wool. If Diodato should care to know her after that,──well!──He
had forgotten that there are other powers beside the will of a wicked butcher-
boy. But Sathanas had not forgotten. Does His Wickedness ever forget matters
which concern his interest? By no means! Sathanas coveted the soul of Aristide.
He knew that it would be his some day. But here was a chance to grab it, now;
for Aristide was set out upon a sinful errand, unaccompanied by his angel-
guardian, who had been forced to leave him when counsels of perfection were
treated with contempt. So Sathanas set a kakodaimon to lie in wait for the soul
of Aristide.
   "He made his way towards the poor hut of Coronata, high up, on the lower
bordure of the forest; and the path up the rocks was narrow; and the night was
very dark. A black frost froze the earth, till it was as hard as bronze; and
chained the rills in icy fetters. The road was slippery and steep. Frozen bushes
tore his face; but he hurried on, his heart being hot with sin. And, when he
reached the turn, where the path is very narrow, passing under the little
torrent which falls from the summit of the cliff, death struck him; and he died.
   "The father of Coronata, returning at noon of the day following, was the one
to find the carcase. He fled into the village, raising an alarm. Guardians-of-
the-public-safety came to make themselves necessary. The day was bright and
sunny, for a thaw had set in at dawn; and, on the wet ground, they found the
body of Aristide, lying on his back, dabbled in blood, stone-dead of a frightful
wound in the throat. He carried no knife. There was no knife near him.
Therefore, the case was said to be a homicide. No one knew what might have been
his business on that path; but when the gossips of the village bowed the chin of
doubt upon the collar of meditation, they remembered the rivalry between
Aristide and Diodato; and that Diodato had sworn, no later than the day before,
to make the butcher pay for alarming Coronata.
   "So Diodato was taken to prison as a murtherer; and the Signor Sindaco and
the Signor Avvocato Micci tried to make him confess to the slaying of Aristide.
But all in vain. There were no words of that kind in his mouth. He swore that he
was innocent; also, that he had never seen the butcher-boy, alive or dead, after
the array in the piazza.
   "Coronata, who visited him in prison, believed him; but the others, no. They
allowed themselves to see no more than this,──that there was bad blood between
Diodato and Aristide; that Aristide had been killed; that the knife──the knife
which did the deed──could not be found; that Diodato had no witnesses to prove
him innocent, being an orphan, living alone, with none to say whether or no he
had left his little house on the night of the homicide.
   "In prison, Diodato suffered bitterly; for the weather had changed again, and
the nights were icy cold. But he strenuously besieged with prayers Il Santissimo
Salvatore, e La Sua Madre; and, once a week, he confessed his sins to Frat'
Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires, who came to the prison, instantly and every day,
on hearing of his spiritual son's disgrazia.
   "Now this holy young friar had known Diodato all his life, being his elder by
a mere handful of years: and he was quite sure that Diodato was no murtherer.
What the shepherd-boy told in confession, cannot be known; but Frat' Innocente-
of-the-Nine-Quires let it be seen that he remained the friend of Diodato; also,
when speaking of him in the village, he said that, undoubtedly, it was Madonna's
business to make his innocence clear to all the world: meanwhile, prison would
do the boy no harm, but good; for he knew himself not to be a saint, and took
his present pains by way of purgatory. With these words, and with others like
them, that friar cheered the few friends of Diodato, and his lover Coronata.
And, as the days passed by, and the time drew near when Diodato must answer
before the judges, Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires spoke very seriously to
Madonna, reminding her of the innocent boy in prison. Also, he thought
profoundly, visiting the place where Aristide had been slain, searching
diligently under every tuft of weed, and under every bush; also, he broke the
ice of the pool under the little torrent; and, having dismissed Coronata, he
dived and dived again and again, till his holy young body was one vast ache of
cold: and this he did, in order to the finding of the knife which slew the
butcher-boy; for, by the knife, he hoped to know the murtherer.
   "And at night he prayed without ceasing.
   "Here, sir, I will beg you to remark the kindness of Our Lady of Dreams.
   "After many days of this work, and many nights of prayer, there came a time
when Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires knew that he must either sleep or die.
It was about one hour after sunset; and he kneeled at the window of his cell;
and he saw Our Lady of Dreams, bearing the All-Pure Host to bless the world in
sleep. And he prayed, and said, `O Madonna Mary, called Our Lady of Dreams,
please to help me, as you have helped my betters in antick times. Send me some
hours of wholesome sleep, that I may have strength to aid, in his grave danger,
that young Diodato. He is a good boy, Madonna, who loves you well, by reason of
the greater love he bears toward your Son. Therefore, as you have taught the
holy ones by dreams, teach me also by a dream, that I may know what to do for
Diodato. O Rex cæli et inferni, marisque et terræ, accept my humble prayer from
these pure hands in which I place it; and deign a gracious answer, as soon as
may be. Per Jhesum Christum, Filium Tuum, Dominum nostrum, Qui Tecum vivit et
regnat, in Unitate Spiritus Sancti, Deus in sæcula sæculorum * amen. Et fidelium
animæ per Misericordiam Dei * requiescant in pace.' Having said these words,
Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires laid himself upon his bed. His mind was calm
and happy. He had done his best. And, now that his best had failed, he placed
the matter in the Hands of Personages Who were far more capable than he. And
with perfect trust, with perfect confidence, he slept like a little child.
   "Our Lady of Dreams heard his prayer: she willed to grant him his request.
Our Lady of Dreams presented the petition of the friar.
   "Il Santissimo heard him; He said to Our Lady of Dreams, `Ask on, My mother,
for I may not say thee nay.'
   "The Padre Eterno heard him, in the fragrant recesses of His temple: He
accepted the petition and He deigned to smile, and to let His Favour shine,
saying, * * * PLACET ET ITA MOTU PROPRIO MANDAMUS.
   "The Personages are speedy, sir, up there. A holy thought, a look, the Smile
of God, and the matter is accomplished. From Our Lady of Dreams, there flew a
swift angel to the cell of Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires, who whispered in
his ear; and every word resembled a picture which his eyes could see. This was
his dream. He saw the dead butcher-boy alive, making his way to the poor hut of
Coronata, high up, on the lower bordure of the forest; and the path up the rocks
was narrow, and the night was very dark. A black frost froze the earth, till it
was hard as bronze; and chained the rills in icy fetters. The road was slippery
and steep. Frozen bushes tore his face; but he hurried on, his heart being hot
with sin. And, when he reached the turn where the path is very narrow, passing
under the little torrent which falls from the summit of the cliff, he panted for
breath, and stopped, and put out his left hand to catch some drops of water. But
there were no drops of water, for the little torrent was frozen; and the dream-
angel made Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires to see it, hanging in icicles far
overhead. Aristide was astonished when he found no water; and he lifted up his
head to look. The friar, in his dream, also looked; and he saw the kakodaimon
seated on the summit, who, at that instant, snorted fire. And, immediately, a
long sharp icicle came hissing down, and slit the weasand of Aristide, who gave
one sob, and fell down dead. Then said the dream-angel to Frat' Innocente-of-
the-Nine-Quires, `Little Brother, at dawn thou must go to the Signor Sindaco,
and to the Signor Avvocato Micci, and to the Signor Dottore Pulobeni; and thou
must require them to come with thee, to see in what manner Aristide the butcher-
boy met his death. Then, thou must take a pig tied on his back upon a plank, and
two strong men to carry the same; and thou must go to the turn where the path is
very narrow, passing under the summit of the cliff; and, there, thou must place
the pig upon the proper spot,──spot known now to thee; and my Lady will give a
sign solving mysteries.'
   "Therefore, at dawn, Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires took all those
persons named by the dream-angel, and a fat pig tied, kicking, on a plank. The
day was fair and fine, and before the rays of the sun, the frost was flying
away.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   "`Imagine to yourselves, my children, that each one of you is Aristide
clambering up this abominably steep path of the rocks,' the friar said. `The
night, you will remember, was very dark. Aristide must have stumbled often.
   "`Now we are coming to the turn where the path is very narrow, passing under
the little torrent which falls from the summit of the cliff.
   "`It is evident that Aristide, who was a fat boy, must have been out of
breath;──all the same as you, my children.
   "`Pass on, Signor Avvocato, and Signor Dottore, please; pass on up there. So!
   "`Now, Signor Sindaco, will you stand below here with me?
   "`Beppo and Marco, hold this plank like that. So!
   "`Now my children, let us consider, in the first place, that Aristide is this
pig. Perhaps he may have wished to refresh himself with cool water, here. Let us
suppose that. Well, then. Let us consider, in the second place, that he would
stretch out his hand to catch some drops from the little torrent. You grant me
that? Well, then.──But where is that little torrent?──There is no little
torrent!──But there must be a little torrent──!!
   "`Ah, well, my children, let us be calm, and let us raise our eyes to heaven.
Behold, my children, behold that little torrent hanging in icicles far above!
   "`Now, let us consider, in the third place, that Aristide would have looked
up, as you have looked up. You grant me that? Then we will take the pig for
Aristide, and make him throw his head right back, and look up, also. So!──See,
my children! Let us suppose that Aristide looked up like that────
   "`But you wish to know more? Well, then, let us conclude────'
   "Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires went no further with his demonstration;
for, at that same moment, the root of a long, sharp icicle melted in the sun,
losing its grip on the summit of the cliff. Like a swift-flying knife it fell,
gathering force in flight. Into the fat throat of the pig it sped, who said
`aoup,' and died. In the gash, buried was that long, sharp icicle. Out of the
gash gushed boiling blood; and, while the Signor Sindaco looked, while the
Signor Avvocato Micci looked, while the Signor Dottore Pulobeni looked,──there
was no longer any icicle;──but only a dead pig with a slit weasand, resembling
Aristide.
   "And then? Well! Cannot la sua eccellenza guess the rest? As for me, I am
sleepy,──but, sleepy!"
   So was I.
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XX

ABOUT THE FOUR THINGS NECESSARY

AFTER sunset, on the southern shore of Lago di Varano, (where we kept camp some
time, in forests, among mountains, near several miles of four to twelve cubits
depth of salt water for our bodies' health,) I exclaimed, "`Vesper adest:
iuvenes, consurgite!' Here is Toto bursting with stories!"
   We settled into comfortable situations round our rhabdodos, and he said:
   "When all, sir, has been said and done, it remains not more than sufficiently
difficult to gain paradise. Four things are necessary. First, you must have
plenary absolution-in-the-article-of-death, with a release from all canonical
censures and excommunications. This depends upon yourself. Secondly, you must
have a strong will. Thirdly, you must have a firm determination to allow no one
to play the fool with you. Fourthly, you must have an opportunity. And, for
these three last, you may depend upon your patron, supposing that you are timid
and distrustful of yourself. It is true that a life of virtue and good deeds
will help you along the road; also, that wealth and riches will carry you over
the rough places, and cause La Sua Santità, Sampietro, to be ready with His
Keys: but, for the getting through the gate, and for the making good of your
claim to citizenship in the Regno di Dio, you will require the Four Things of
which I have spoken; and, having these, you may snap your fingers at the rest.
   "Now there was the case of Lazzaro, the mendicant. What that poor little
thing suffered during his life, is known to Padre Eterno alone: not to me. But,
from the tip of his toes, to the skin of his skull where no hair ever grew, he
was one vast itching fester, white and green as a putrid cheese of sheep's milk,
and the skin all falling off in dry and dusty flakes. Yet he was resigned to the
Will of Padre Eterno, and he bore his dolour patiently; for he knew that, so, he
would gain much merit, and shorten his term of purgatory.
   "One morning, the Grey Angel chanced to be looking through his kalendar; and
he found, there, that the life of Lazzaro was to be ended at one hour after the
Ave Maria. So his highness gave the usual advice to Lazzarello, who was the
angel-guardian of this mendicant; and, at the first hour of the night,
Lazzarello took the soul of Lazzaro in his arms, and carried him right up to the
gate of paradise; for he needed none of the fire to cleanse him, having been
purified by a more painful purgatory down in the world. And, in the porch, he
laid down Lazzaro's soul, blessing him * with the sign of our salvation; at
which sign the mendicant had his health restored, becoming young, and supple,
and smooth and beautiful as I who speak of him.
   "Lazzarello said this to be all that he could do for the present. Lazzaro
must now knock at the gate with his proper hand, explain himself to La Sua
Santità, Sampietro, and pass through into paradise. There, he would find his
angel-guardian with his halo, waiting for him near the Duomo, to present him to
the Padre Eterno on His Great White Throne. And so the angel left him.
   "This mendicant was an humble, timid man. In the world, everyone had kicked
him here, or kicked him there. None had ever treated him with courtesy. `Aha,
you stinking toad, get out of my way,' was the only `Good-day' to which his ears
had been accustomed. His spirit was broken. He had lost the habit of asserting
his rights. And his only wish was, to be allowed to crawl away, that he might
hide in cellars or in caves. Therefore, when he considered his position there,
right at the very gate of paradise itself, he had many tremors in case the gods
should look upon his presence as presumption; and, as for knocking boldly, and
speaking to La Sua Santità, Sampietro, face to face, on equal terms,──why, he
blushed purple at the bare notion of taking such a liberty.
   "There lay that poor little thing, shivering with unnecessary modesty. He
hardly dared to breathe, lest he should disturb the bright and shining
personages who already had achieved their joy.
   "After waiting many hours, his angel-guardian came back to the gate, to see
whether, by some chance, Lazzaro had met with any accident: for it was a thing
unheard of that a man who had won his right to everlasting bliss, should
hesitate, of his own will, to grasp the same, placed within reach.
   "He found the mendicant shaking with shy fear. And he said to him that he
must pluck up courage, and remember that he was just as good as any other man,
and bushels better than some, on which account he had only to knock, and the
gate would be opened, according to the evangel.
   "Also, the angel said, supposing it to be one of Sampietro's evil days, when,
perhaps, La Sua Santità might happen to show the rough side of His tongue, or
might be inclined to argue, Lazzaro would simply have to be firm, and to insist
upon a proper reception; for, in these affairs, some decision, some
determination were required, according to Sanluca, Physician, Painter,
Evangelist, and Chancellor of Madonna Mary, who had written word that we must
take much trouble to enter into the Regno di Dio. Therefore, Lazzarello advised
the mendicant that he should lay aside all that humility which, in the world,
had pleased the Padre Eterno, and that he should comport himself as one who
comes into his just inheritance.
   "Lazzaro made an effort. He raised his hand to knock. But he let it fall
again, for his modesty was purely terrible. He dared, and did not dare. He dared
again, and again he did not dare. At last, he gave a tiny tap,──just the
tiniest, tiniest tap: and he sank down, hiding his blushes in his knees.
   "Sampietro opened the gate of pearl, a little way. All that He could see was
a small cringing heap of man beside the steps; and, being as short of temper as
of breath, Sampietro shouted to know what might be his name and business there?
   "With fear, Lazzaro's throat grew hard. His lips trembled, and his tongue
refused to wag. Not a sound could he utter; such was the gross humility of him.
Sampietro gave a scornful snort, and He shut the gate again.
   "After a day or two, Lazzaro found another sprig of courage, and he knocked
once more, perhaps not quite so timidly. Sampietro was uncertain whether it were
a knock, or just the wind. He thought He need not trouble to go down. He went
and peeped through the little window slanting sideways in the tower. There lay
Lazzaro, prostrate, shy; and Sampietro called to him that, if he wished to
enter, he must give a decent knock, or else he must take his chance, and wait
till the gate should be opened for some more manly soul. At His age, Sampietro
said, He could not be expected to keep on running up and down stairs
continually, on behalf of a person evidently unable to make up his mind. So
Lazzaro kneeled at the gate of paradise during two months, listening to the
musick of the angels, and to the happy voices of the gods: but, never once in
all that time, did any other soul seek to enter; and from this, sir, you may be
pleased to learn that it is not altogether of the easiest to gain one of those
plenary indulgences which are sprinkled over the prayer-book.
   "But, at last, the very high and very illustrious Lord Baron Duria perished,
of a forester's disease, at his castle of Duria; and his angel-guardian brought
the soul of him up to the gate of paradise, with pomp and dignity; for he was
rich and grand as the sun, and many masses had been said for him during his
sickness and agony, as well as after his demise. Sampietro had heard those
masses, all sung by the singers of the opera; and He had smelled of the incense
with pleasure,──pure gum olibanum at fifty lire the pound, expense being no
object;──and He said to Himself that something having the nature of a reception
was due, most assuredly, to this very high and very illustrious Lord Baron
Duria. Therefore La Sua Santita sent for Santignazio of Loyola and required him
to set some of his novices to work at doing what the circumstances demanded,
──Jesuits being the arbiters of elegance, as well as of everything else.──And
these draped the gate of pearl with magenta damask, very gorgeous, and with
festoons of lace and muslin curtains, blue, and white, and yellow; and having
strewed the floor with bay and box to hide their snuff and other things, they
suspended, from the ceiling of the archway, cut-glass chandeliers blazing with
many hundred tapers of the finest bees-wax, till one would almost have said that
paradise resembled a May Meeting at Gesù in Rome.
   "When the Lord Baron was arriving, Sampietro chaunted, `Lift up your heads, O
ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, to let the very high and
very illustrious Lord Baron Duria come in. Enter, O very magnificent and very
sympathetick Lord Baron,──your lordship's servant am I, and I beseech your
lordship to look on me with favour!──What an honour!──What condescension!──Does
your lordship admire the decorations?──Ah, so good of your lordship to praise
our humble efforts!──We shall always remember this day!──And your lordship's
mansion has been prepared! Yes!──And we trust that your lordship will be
consoled for the loss of your lordship's castle of Duria! Yes!──And if there is
any improvement which your lordship might suggest, or any little comforts which
your lordship might require, they shall be attended to──oh, yes, they shall have
our prompt attention.'
   "And, while Sampietro was bowing and scraping and abasing Himself before the
rich baron, and the rich baron nodding to Sampietro, the angel-guardian of
Lazzaro beckoned, through the open gateway, giving him such a sort of look that
courage and determination fired him, and he arose, and walked boldly into the
garden of paradise, snapping his fingers at the rest."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XXJ

ABOUT THE PREFACE OF FRA CHERUBINO

THEN, there was the case of the brigands.
   "They were called Giacomuzzo Dimonti, who was nicknamed Lo Scojattolo,
because he was nimble in his movements and a good climber, and Giuseppe
Giovannino, who was nicknamed La Lodola, because he was always rubbing his hands
and whistling. They were ruffians of the most sinful kind, who did murthers,
rapes, and robberies, all their lives, among the hills above Lanuvium.
   "At last, they added sacrilege to their long list of sins, sacrilege
committed on the consecrated person of a poor Little Brother, called Fra
Cherubino, who, having been on a long day's round of the country, begging for
his convent in the Pontine Marshes, was jogging along the Appian Way at evening,
with his ass well-laden with eggs, and oil, and vegetables, and a bag of money
for the poor hanging from his girdle. When he came to the Hill of the Two
Towers, those brigands stopped him to ask a blessing; and, as he lifted up his
holy hands, Lo Scojattolo caught them, and dragged him from his saddle, while La
Lodola cut the bag of money from his waist. Then they made him promise that he
would tell no man what they had done; and, having battered him until he swooned,
they ran away with the money and the eggs and the oil and the vegetables and the
ass.
   "When Fra Cherubino had regained his senses, he tottered into the town all
sad; but, being mindful of his promise, he said no word about the sacrilege. He
wanted leisure in which to consider the situation well and purely. The townsfolk
noticed the bruises of him, and his pallor, and his blood; and, in the wine-
shops, after Ave Maria, they meditated about the person, or persons, unknown,
who had been persuaded by the devil to incur the Greater Excommunication, by
raising hands against a holy friar.
   "The next day was the festa of Sangiuliano of Albano,──a wild (discolo) boy
resembling me, sir, and of whom I dare not tell you, until you give an order,
because of the reverence which is due to Vittorio and Otone and Ercole, and
Desiderio and Ilario, and my brother Guido,──and Fra Cherubino was to sing mass,
coram pontifice, in the Duomo. People came from near and far to hear that friar
sing; for, not only had the Padre Eterno deigned to grant to him the voice of a
mighty seraph, but his angel-guardian, also, had taught him the bel canto; so
that he made all the marvellous sound in the throat of him, and turned it into
words with his lips, and his teeth, and the tip of his tongue, flinging pure
clear notes into the air,──notes shaped labialiter, according to the rule, into
syllables so distinct, so clean-cut, that every single letter was mellifluously
plain and audible, except in the Secreta, which not even the priest who
celebrates may hear, but only Domeniddio and His angels. You will know, sir,
what an admirable voice this was, if you will consider how many priests cannot
be heard distinctly, even when they sing with the high voice. This is because
their passages are clogged with snuff, and other dirt, and are unable to make
fine sounds: also, because of their absurd attempts to shape sound into words
with their noses and the dingle-dangles over the roots of their tongues, instead
of using the machinery ordered in the book. And, when they sing with the low
voice, you hear nothing but a mutter and a buzz, and sometimes not a single
sound of any species.
   "Ah, well, Fra Cherubino was different; and all the world flocked from near
and far, to have the pleasure of listening to his seraphic voice.
   "The mass began, continued; and, presently, there was Fra Cherubino singing,
──oh, so clear and slow,──the antick musick of the Preface of Sangiuliano's
festa. One──by──one, the mellow syllables──thrilled──and──melted──in the air. It
was a long, but not too long, Preface; and Fra Cherubino sang it after this
manner:

   It is very meet right and our bounden duty:
   That we should at all times and in all places give thanks unto Thee:
   O Signore: Santissimo Padre: Iddio Onnipotente ed Eterno:
   And more especially when we admire Thy marvels in the person of Sangiuliano
of Albano, whose solemnity we commemorate as on this day:
   Nevertheless:
   Evil men have robbed me Thy Little Brother:
   Of my ass and of her saddle:
   Of my eggs and of my oil and of my vegetables:
   And of all the money which I had begged for Thy poor children:
   But:
   To no man have I declared the thing:
   Save unto Thee:
   Only:
   O Domeniddio Padre Onnipotente:
   Who pitiest the needy and the poor:
   And Who knowest all things:
   And therefore:
   With angels and archangels:
   And with all the company of heaven:
   We laud and magnify Thy Glorious Name:
   Evermore:
   Praising Thee:
   And saying:
      Sanctus: Sanctus: Sanctus . . .

   "While this astounding piece of news was coming from the lips of their
beloved fraticello, each man in the Duomo turned, and looked upon his neighbour
with wide eyes, full of meaning. And, when thanks had been offered at the Ite
missa est, they poured out into the piazza, very furious, where the Signor
Sindaco, standing on the steps of the fountain, shouted to the crowd that, now,
the time was come in which Lo Scojattolo and La Lodola must be prevented from
committing any more crimes; it being evident that ruffians, who scrupled not to
rob a holy friar, were a disgrace to the neighbourhood, and ought to be hunted
to extermination just like wolves.
   "So, all the men of the town, as well as of all the towns near by, took
knives, and guns, and sickles, and scythes, and scoured the country till they
had caught those brigands and lodged them in the gaol of Rome, where, in course
of time, they were brought before the judges, a list of their crimes was read to
them, and they were condemned to decollation on the morrow's morn.
   "At night, in the gaol, Fra Cherubino came to them. He showed them that they
must repent of all their sins, and pray for mercy to Domeniddio, offering to Him
their deaths in expiation.
   "At dawn, he heard their last confessions; and, on the scaffold, he imparted
plenary absolution-in-the-article-of-death, with release from all canonical
censures and excommunications, to the utmost of his power.
   "Lo Scojattolo was the first to face his doom. He kneeled upon his knees, and
fixed his eyes upon the crucifix which Fra Cherubino held before him, saying
Miserere mei Deus, until the carnifex struck off his head at the verse Averte
Faciem Tuam a Peccatis meis: et omnes iniquitates meas dele: and then, before
his angel-guardian had time to seize his soul, he fled straight up to paradise,
not even invoking San Durmaele Arcangiolo to show the way; and there he battered
on the gate with all his strength, being fearful lest Sathanas, whom he had
served all his life long, should catch and carry him to the Brown Kingdom.
   "So tremendous was the noise which he created there, that Sampietro hastened
to unlatch the gate, demanding who dared to raise so very godless a clamour. To
Whom the brigand answered, that he was called Giacomuzzo Dimonti, nicknamed Lo
Scojattolo, by profession brigand, robber, fornicator, adulterer, and murtherer,
that he had left the world in a state of grace, having obtained plenary
absolution-in-the-article-of-death, with release from all canonical censures and
excommunications, which death he had offered to the Padre Eterno in expiation of
his crimes, and had suffered, the previous moment, on the scaffold of the Campo
di Fiori down in Rome. Wherefore, he wished to enter paradise without delay,
lest some disgrazia should come upon him.
   "But Sampietro met him with much anger; and He blocked the gateway, saying,
that Lo Scojattolo was making a huge error──error amounting to heresy──if he
supposed paradise to be a home for ruffians such as he had just described
himself to have been. Heaven was inhabited by pure, and virtuous, and holy
persons; and no unclean thing should enter there, as long as He held the Power
of the Keys.
   "Lo Scojattolo shouted, that he was not unclean, but clean; and, being in a
rage, he waved his certificate of absolution-in-the-article-of-death, to which
the pounce still clung, right in the face of Sampietro.
   "La Sua Santità said that even persons who had lived respectably down there
were none the worse for a taste of purgatorial fire; and for a bloody brigand to
imagine that he could escape with a whole skin, was just a piece of bare-faced
impertinence: and that was all about it. Purgatory was the place for the likes
of him, that he might know something of the suffering which, in his life-time,
he had put upon other people. What could he know of suffering, Sampietro asked?
What pain had he borne down there which might pass for an equivalent to
purgatory?
   "Hardened criminal as he was, Lo Scojattolo flinched before the anger of the
Santo Padre. He wished that he had spoken civilly at first. How was he to answer
this angry pontiff now,──pontiff who kept the Keys? He stood on one foot and
rubbed the instep of the other up and down the calf of the firm leg in a manner
of hesitation. He stammered, that his wife────
   "Sampietro caught him by the sleeve, and interrupted, asking whether he meant
to say that he had been a married man?
   "Lo Scojattolo answered, yes, during twenty years; having married a widow of
four and twenty, in order to deprive himself of the knives of her brothers, on
the day when he had reached his eighteenth year.
   "Then, Sampietro said, `Ah, well, well; We have been a married man Ourself;'
and he took the brigand by the hand, and led him sweetly into paradise, saying
that that was quite enough, the Padre Eterno being too just, too merciful, to
make a man taste purgatory more than once, no matter how black his record may
have been.
   "So, Lo Scojattolo was numbered among the immortal gods; and Sampietro shut
the gate."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XXIJ

ABOUT THE INSISTENCE OF SANGIUSEPPE

"NOW while these things were being done on the threshold of paradise, Giuseppe
Giovannino, nicknamed La Lodola, that other brigand of whom I spoke, mounted the
scaffold of the Campo di Fiori; and, kneeling on his knees, he fixed his eyes
upon the crucifix which Fra Cherubino held before him, murmuring, Gesù, Maria,
Giuseppe; Gesù, Maria, Giuseppe, until the carnifex struck off his head; and
then his soul fled up to the gate of pearl, as swiftly as the soul of his
comrade had flown before him, arriving just in time to hear the close of the
argument between Lo Scojattolo and Sampietro, and to have the gate slammed in
his face.
   "He hammered with all his might upon the knocker, raising echoes from all
quarters of the sky; and Sampietro, who had intended to stroll a little way with
Lo Scojattolo that He might hear the latest gossip of the City, was obliged to
offer His excuses, and to hurry to the gate. As soon as He had opened it a
little way, La Lodola attempted to push through: but Sampietro hit him over the
knuckles with the Keys, bidding him to behave himself, and to tell his name and
business there.
   "La Lodola answered, that he was called Giuseppe Giovannino, the other being
a nickname only; by profession brigand, robber, fornicator, adulterer, and
murtherer; that he claimed admission as his right, seeing that he had left the
world in a state of grace, being armed with plenary absolution-in-the-article-
of-death, and released from all canonical censures and excommunications.
   "But one brigand was sufficient for Sampietro. He could not see His way to
admit a second; and He firmly stated that La Lodola must make up his mind to go
to purgatory without any more nonsensical ado. La Sua Santità made as though He
were about to close the gate and terminate the interview; but La Lodola caught
hold of it, daring Sampietro to crush his fingers, and to stain with blood the
sacred precincts, and demanding why Lo Scojattolo should have been allowed to
enter paradise without a course of purgatory, while he, the comrade of the said
Scojattolo, and no jot a viler villain, should be sent to purgatory, paradise
being denied. It was not fair. It was not what he had expected of Sampietro.
What was sauce for the gander was sauce, also, for the goose; and so on, and so
on.
   "Sampietro answered, that the cases were by no means so similar as La Lodola
pretended; his comrade having already undergone a course of purgatory in his
life-time, in that he had been a married man.
   "At this La Lodola eagerly spread his hands, saying, that if that were all,
he had as much right to paradise as Lo Scojattolo, and even more; because he had
made a practice of being married many times. It was his constant habit, at all
times and in all places, in fact, he said.
   "Sampietro was utterly disgusted. He declared this admission to be a fatal
and a final one. Purgatory, He said, was indispensable to La Lodola, seeing that
there was a strict rule which prevented either idiots or imbeciles from entering
paradise. Sampietro banged the gate, and returned to Lo Scojattolo in the
garden; while La Lodola was left alone, outside.
   "But this brigand was not a man who takes rebuffs with patience. Having freed
his mind, he stamped upon the ground, and asked himself who was this Sampietro,
after all, that He should treat him so? In a moment, something about the past
life of La Sua Santità flashed across his mind. He gave a cunning chuckle; and,
kneeling on his knees, he put his lips to the key-hole of the gate; and, with
high voice, he screamed, `Cockadoodledoo! Cockadoodledoo!'
   "Oh, sir; but what a shock for Sampietro! The heart of Him turned to boiling
water. He dropped the arm of Lo Scojattolo there, on the very steps of the
duomo, strewing flat the acolyths who held His orfreys, and those who waved the
fans of peacock's tails by His side; and He fled back to the gate, cursing,
fumbling with the keys. He loosed the latch. He flung the gate wide open; and He
dragged that naughty Lodola inside, begging him, beseeching him not to make
those horrid noises,──noises which would serve no purpose,──noises which would
open up old wounds, reminding the high gods of matters painful to remember,
better buried in oblivion.
   "La Lodola answered, that it was not his wish to make himself a nuisance to
Sampietro; far from it. He simply wanted to get inside the gate of pearl: and,
having done that, he remained the obedient humble servant of La Sua Santità.
   "Well! Of course Sampietro could not turn him out again. No. But He declined
the responsibility of presenting La Lodola to the Padre Eterno, things being as
they were. Wherefore a patron must be found; and He suggested that the brigand
would do well to review his past life, as though in preparation for a general
confession, that he might discover whether, by some chance, he had a claim upon
the good offices of some or any of the gods already in glory.
   "La Lodola declared, that, on that score, there need be no difficulty. At his
baptism, his godfather called him Giuseppe, placing him under the protection of
the divo who was Direttore della Sacra Famiglia; and, all through his life, it
had been his constant habit to recite Gloria Patri three times every morning and
every night, in honour of Sangiuseppe. Also, in brawls, he had always invoked
Sangiuseppe; and, when he wished to curse or to swear, he had cried commonly on
Sangiuseppe, instead of on such antick gods as the Lord Dionusos, or the Lord
Herakles, as did the other brigands, his companions. Wherefore, it was the duty
of Sangiuseppe to make him some return for all these attentions, by taking
interest in his welfare now.
   "Sampietro was glad to have the matter taken off His hands so easily. He
dispatched two acolyths with waxen torches to bear His compliments to
Sangiuseppe, requesting him to be so kind as to come down to the gate for a
minute, on urgent official business: and, when Sangiuseppe appeared, Sampietro
said a few words, introducing La Lodola, and explaining the favour which he
wished to ask.
   "Sangiuseppe looked sternly at the brigand, and, in a searching manner,
examined his conscience concerning his past life. Horrible were the crimes
confessed by La Lodola, grim as adamant the face of Sangiuseppe; until the
brigand alleged that he had recited that Gloria Patri three times every night
and every morning. Sangiuseppe referred to the list of his regular clients; and
finding there the name, Giuseppe Giovannino, according to the statement of the
brigand, he looked more kindly on him, and said that he would see what could be
done. Also, Sangiuseppe patted him on the shoulder, as a father pats a naughty
child who, after confession, has been forgiven; and said that he must cheer up,
for he would see him through his difficulty. And, because the sins of La Lodola
had been so terrible, Sangiuseppe thought that it might be as well to begin with
an application to Il Santissimo Himself, and not to trouble about asking favours
of other gods; for these were peculiar people, who had, each, his own friends to
attend to, and who might not care to undertake the affairs of a stranger in whom
they had no interest. So Sangiuseppe wrote a petition in these words:

   The petitioner, Giuseppe Giovannino, called La Lodola, of the age of thirty-
seven years, formerly living in the cave on the Hill of the Two Towers above the
Pontine Marshes, by Profession brigand, robber, fornicator, adulterer, and
murtherer, has suffered decollation on the scaffold of the Campo di Fiori in
Rome, for the crime of sacrilege. He petitions for confirmation of his
citizenship of this Kingdom: which citizenship he claims to have merited by full
contrition, exact confession, and plenary absolution-in-the-article-of-death,
with release from all canonical censures and excommunications. The case is
recommended by his patron
       SANGIUSEPPE,
         Direttore della Sacra Famiglia,
                             and the rest.

   "Then, Sangiuseppe spoke a word to San Suriele Arcangiolo, the Prince of the
Presence, who guards the door, and gained admission to the Duomo. There, he and
his client kneeled down before Il Santissimo, first making three genuflexions on
both knees, according to the rule; and the brigand presented his petition.
   "But Il Santissimo required to know what His Blessed Mother had said; and,
when Sangiuseppe answered, that La Sua Maestà had not been consulted, Santissimo
returned the petition to La Lodola, saying, that she was Rifugio dej peccatorj,
having full authority to deal with the affair.
   "Sangiuseppe made the brigand rise, making three genuflexions on both knees
as before; and retired, a little to the right, always facing Il Santissimo,
until they reached the throne of La Madre di Dio, where La Lodola made his best
bow, and presented his petition.
   "La Santissima Vergine read it with care, inquiring whether the petitioner
had worn the brown scapular. When she heard that he had not done this, she was
much shocked; and she asked whether he had invoked her aid during his life.
   "With shame, La Lodola replied, that he had never even given her a thought,
and had never used her name except when he was surprised. And he began to feel
very sorry for himself; and he wanted to weep; for he was certain that his
chances were becoming very small indeed. Yet, though it seemed that fire was
likely to be his portion, something──of I know not what──forced him to make a
clean breast of all his wickedness, when La Santissima Vergine put her gentle
questions to him.
   "She became very sad. She looked at her Son with eyes imploring. Seeing His
Face to be terrible and full of doom, the tears ran down her cheeks. She nodded
her head back,──oh, but in hopeless pity for the miserable brigand, who, in his
life, had never given her a thought, and whom, now, she must refuse to aid.
   "La Lodola checked his dolour with a sigh. He would not have that lovely Lady
grieve on his account. He bowed low before her; and, retiring always backward,
he passed out of the Duomo with his patron, Sangiuseppe.
   "In the court, the two paced backward and forward for a quarter of an hour;
and, because his patron did not speak, but knit his brows, and muttered in his
beard, the brigand said that, now, he saw that he had been rash,──he had no
chance,──it was his evil day,──his luck had deserted him; and, while he would
always remember the kindness of Sangiuseppe, he felt it to be useless,
unbecoming, to give him any more trouble; and, so, he simply begged a blessing
before he withdrew to another place,──place for which his crimes had fitted him.
   "But Sangiuseppe checked him there, saying that this was all nonsense. Did La
Lodola suppose that the power of the Direttore della Sacra Famiglia went no
further? Did La Lodola imagine for a moment that the Patron-Of-All-Those-Who-
Confidently-Call-Upon-Him would suffer a single one of his clients to perish
everlastingly? Not by any means! La Lodola had mistaken his god, if that were
his idea! Were there no other August Personages besides Those Whom they had just
left? Indeed there were! Application must be made to These, before that hope
should be laid down. Paradise was the land of hope; and, having gained a
foothold there, La Lodola must struggle, must persevere, till he had made that
foothold sure. With these words, and with others like them, Sangiuseppe cheered
the brigand, while he sent one of the seven angels to find out whether the Santo
Spirito received at that late hour.
   "Presently, the angel returned, saying, that audiences were over for the day;
and the Santo Spirito was gone into His Oratory to say the Little Office of
Beata Maria Vergine, at which devotion He might not be disturbed.
   "Sangiuseppe made a gesture of impatience. He said that it was purely silly
to beat about the bush like this. Here was an affair of vital interest, which
should be settled out of hand. Why not do the proper thing, and go straight to
the Fountain-Head of Justice, without any more dilly-dallying? And, seizing La
Lodola by his arm, he whisked him right into the Presence, making him lie
prostrate before the Padre Eterno on His Great White Throne.
   "Sangiuseppe took the petition. To La Suprema Maestà e Grandezza, he
presented it, begging favourable consideration.
   "The Padre Eterno deigned to read the scroll.
   "At the end, He returned it to the patron of La Lodola saying that He did not
know whether Sangiuseppe's hardihood, or his lack of the sense of decency, gave
Him most amazement. Did Sangiuseppe expect that the presence of a person of this
description──brigand, robber, fornicator, adulterer, murtherer, sacrilegist, on
his own showing──would be tolerated for an instant? He was astounded at
Sangiuseppe! And the answer to that petition would be────
   "But, here, Sangiuseppe interrupted, declaring that, notwithstanding all that
had been said, certain facts remained. This brigand had received, in baptism,
his name, Giuseppe, and had invoked him at least twice daily during his life in
the world. Also, Sangiuseppe begged the Padre Eterno to remember that he who
spoke had always enjoyed the reputation of being a god worthy of trust; and he
had not the intention of forfeiting the said reputation. La Lodola was his
client; and, never yet, had he forsaken any one who placed confidence in him. He
must ask that the petition of his client be granted. He must ask it as a
personal favour. It was seldom that he asked a personal favour. He was not one
of those tiresome fashionable little gods who were always buzzing about, making
themselves necessary with lace pictures and periapts; but just a plain honest
god out of the Evangel, where any one might read of him as a just man. That
testimonial to his character was decisive, being contained in the Canonical
Scripture, whose writers wrote nothing but the Words of La Suprema Maestà.
Therefore, as a just man, he asked only for justice. He asked it as a personal
favour. And when,──being a just man all the time,──he did think proper to ask a
personal favour, he expected to have that favour granted. In conclusion, all
that he could say was this, that if that favour were not granted──well, he would
simply leave. And──what was more──as Direttore della Sacra Famiglia, he would
remove his Spouse, and her Divine Child also, with him, and take up his abode in
the Santa Casa di Loreto, a quite commodious residence, which pious persons had
decorated with gold and precious marbles in a manner leaving nothing to be
desired. And that was that!
   "Then there was a pregnant silence.
   "In the stillness of the bush, one of the little blue cherubini of the
aureola whimpered, `Oh! But where should we be then!'
   "The Padre Eterno smiled. Whispers rustled through the ranks of the company
of heaven. San Sandalfone Serafino paused in placing laurel crowns upon the Head
of his Creator. The seven angels blew a fanfare on their trumpets commanding
silence.
   "Then the air vibrated with the distant rolling thunder of the Voice of the
Padre Eterno, who deigned to say, `WE GRANT To GIUSEPPE GIOVANNINO, CALLED LA
LODOLA, CITIZENSHIP OF OUR KINGDOM, THROUGH THE POWERFUL INTERCESSION OF
SANGIUSEPPE, ACCORDING TO THE EVANGEL OF SAN MATTEO, WHERE IT IS WRITTEN THAT
THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN SHALL SUFFER VIOLENCE, AND THAT THE VIOLENT MAN SHALL TAKE
IT BY FORCE. BENEDICAT VOS OMNIPOTENS DEUS * PATER * ET FILIUS * ET SPIRITUS
SANCTUS.'"
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XXIIJ

ABOUT A VEGETABLE PURGATORY

"BEHOLD a malefactor!"
   Toto came through the bushes behind me, and pointed a rigid finger at
Desiderio, beautifully sleeping by a thicket covered with yellow cystus, across
the little sunlit glade.
   It was in the Bosco dell' Ombra, near by Monte Nicola; and I was painting
Desiderio in the character of Love the Dreamer. For this purpose I had acquired
him, seeing him to be a veritable reincarnation of the Son of Kuthereia, with
his yellow hair, and yellow eyes, and his white smooth skin, glossy from head to
foot with the finest yellow silken down, which made him shine in the sun as
though he were chiselled in pale gold. He never wished to speak; he fed as
delicately as a little bird; was always drowsy, and generally asleep; lived his
own happy little life; and, at fourteen, showed a slim round shape like the
David of Donatello, crowned with short and waving curls.
   Under a smaragdine canopy of beeches, whose trunks, massive and fantastick,
were sheathed in iron grey mail, the afternoon was warm. Everyone still slept:
and I was painting Himeros, yellow, on yellow and green. Then came Toto; who
glowered upon my unconscious model, and proclaimed him to be a malefactor.
   "What has he done now?" I asked.
   "But, sir, do you not see his garland?"
   Desiderio slept in peace, by the thicket covered with yellow cystus, diademed
with daffy-dillies.
   "Oh yes; I see his garland. I told him to get a garland. Don't you see that
it helps the picture, Toto mio?"
   "Yes, sir; of course a garland must be worn. And, for Divinamore, a garland
of white roses. But daffy-dillies──daffy-dillies! By the goose! Nothing, but
inbred sin, could have made the creature choose daffy-dillies out of all the
many million flowers, in all these miles of forest. La sua eccellenza never
ordered daffy-dillies. That I know. It would be too discourteous. And Desiderio
is a malefactor, as I have said."
   "But why not daffy-dillies?"
   "Sir, it is plain, after that question, that, if I tell you truth, I shall
not please you; and, if I please you, I shall not tell you truth."
   "Then, by all means, tell the truth, and don't omit a single word."
   "Very well, sir. You shall hear a voice ignorant of lies. Now, in the whole
body of you, there is not more than one pinch of cruelty. Also, you punish us
when we are cruel or unkind, even to unimportant things, per esempio, puppies.
And Desiderio is a malefactor; for he has taken advantage of your permission to
crown himself with flowers, in that he has most rudely, most nefariously, chosen
daffy-dillies. Oh, it is a very serious matter to pluck daffy-dillies; and
Santacore died of that same, who, for her sin, is doomed to spend one half of
the year in paradise; the other half in purgatory. But, at least, Desiderio is
unkind.
   "Ah, sir,──if you knew all──"
   I laid down my palette, and lighted a cigarette, having asserted that I was
waiting, and yearning, and burning, to know all, from the very beginning. He
pillowed his head in his arms; his glance soared to the jewels of verdure
overhead, dilating as he chaunted of mysteries unseen.
   "Sir, you shall know that the Padre Eterno prepares for every man a
particular purgatory suited to his particular sin. Yes. That is where He is so
kind; for you may trust Him not to play you the ungenerous trick of treating you
as He treats the others. No. You have your sins; and He will fit them with a
solely proper cure. I have mine; and He will deal with me as I deserve. No more,
no less. Well then: some will have to burn, and some to freeze; and the lazy
will be chained immovably; and busy-bodies will be kept always on the jog; and
the haughty will be used as doorsteps; and the humble, clothed in gold and tails
of peacocks, will have to sit on shining thrones until they learn to carry
themselves with dignity,──dignity of children of the Re del Cielo, even as I am,
──I,──Teodoro! And by these means, or by others which are not now in my mouth,
does the Padre Eterno clear us of whatever stain of sin there may be in us, at
the time when Sant' Azraele Arcangiolo shall snip the cord which binds our
bodies to our souls; that He may make the said souls like those of the gods, who
will have to be our daily friends in paradise.
   "But now I am to tell you about persons who have their purgatory in flowers,
or in trees; persons who, for some little sort of sin, are pent in places from
which they may not move, wearing unusual shapes which not their lovers, nor even
their own mothers, recognise; speechless, yet hearing everything; helpless, yet
seeing everything; at the mercy of every beast, or of the rude hand of
Desiderio, rather-brutal-than-not.
   "Yes, sir,──daffy-dillies. You shall know that, formerly, there lived a
shepherd boy; and I think him to have been of the Abruzzi, though of that I am
not certain: and, when he reached the age of seventeen years, he found himself
to have a Vocation for the priesthood. Whether it was a present, in return for
the musick of his flute, which he played while his goats were sleeping in the
shade, or whatever else, has not been told to me. But there was his Vocation all
the same. I am sure that Madonnina smiled on him, for he loved her dearly: and,
on a night when he was lying in the open, just breathing little holy songs like
this one, the sky was dark and clear, perfumed with cyclamen; and Atiso kneeled,
and made a vow, that he would be her servant, always, whom he called the Mother
of the Maker of the stars. That was his answer to her call.
   "Now, sir, a Vocation is a very serious thing, as I have often said to
Niccolo my brother. It makes a mighty difference in your behaviour to yourself,
as well as to your friends. If you have no Vocation, well; you can only do your
best. But, if you have it, then circumspect must be your mortal passage. And
Atiso was a failure. For, in a year or two, he forgot his vow to Madonnina; and
then he allowed himself to fall in love with a young girl of his parish who was
called the Signorina Sangarisa.
   "Madonna grieved because Atiso had forgotten her. She looked out from her
picture in the church, where he came to pay his duty, with such sadness, and
such longing, that something like a wave swept through his heart, and something
like a shutter lifted from his eyes, so that he scorned himself for being
unfaithful to his lady; and, in remorse, he ran away to the woods, where he put
himself to prayer and penance, until he had forgotten the Sangarisa, and had
made his peace with her who held his vow. After he had been a priest for many
years, he was allowed to leave this life; and, for his purgatory, he was changed
into a pine-tree, tall and slender, as he was at that time when he belied his
promise, head veiled in sad-colour, drooping in regret.
   "So he must remain until the ultimate day of judging; silent, helpless, at
the mercy of all the world, because he showed more than enough mercy to himself.
   "Also, there was a boy called Chupariso, who, on one of his evil days, slew a
tame stag which was the property of some convent of San Michele Arcangiolo; at
which mischance, he worked himself into a fever; and presently he died. Of
course, he was very sorry, and he said so, frankly; because every respectable
boy knows better than to do wilful damage to the pets of holy persons: but
Chupariso showed such extravagance of sorrow, that, for his purgatory, San
Michele Arcangiolo obtained an Order, from the Padre Eterno, to change him into
a cypress-tree.
   "So he must remain until the ultimate day of judging; symbol of sorrow,
silent, helpless, at the mercy of all the world, because he wasted sorrow upon a
simple accident.
   "Also, there was a boy called Zafferano, who loved a girl. And he was too
impatient in his love; and she was no less impatient than her lover: and──well,
then,──yes, sir.
   "So, when they died, the Padre Eterno very kindly turned the girl into a yew-
tree, and the boy into a saffron-flower, who, all day long, must sit at the yew-
tree's foot, apart.
   "So they must remain, until the ultimate day of judging; separate each from
other, and yet always near; silent, helpless, at the mercy of all the world,
because of their impatience.
   "Also, there was a boy called Adone, handsome to look at, and in deeds not
refuting his aspect. The mania of sport occupied his mind, making him neglectful
of his orisons to Madonnina. Often, she sent an angel to whisper in his ear; but
this boy with yellow hair refused attention; nor would he even give a moment to
kiss his fingers to her picture. All his time he spent hunting in the forests,
and doing mighty deeds, brandishing a spear which had a short head of steel.
With swiftness equal to the winds, he carried death to fighting lions, and slew
wild boars; bearing their panting bodies to the charcoal-burners, that these
might admire his courage, and his strength. But, one day, when he was at the
chase, from a dusky thicket, there rushed a huge wild boar; who, with his
ruthless tusk, killed the boy Adone: and when he died the Padre Eterno changed
him into the flower called anemone.
   "So he must remain until the ultimate day of judging; Adone, once the ardent
hunter, now helpless, at the mercy of all the world, raising purple eyes to the
pitiful sky, praying silent prayers to complete the tale of those which he
neglected when he lived this life.
   "Also, there was a boy called Giacinto,──friend of San Michele Arcangiolo;
and he was not beautiful only; but beautiful, and also noble. All the same he
had his little sins, such as you would expect of anyone. Because he was the
friend of an archangel, the kakodaimons of the Brown Kingdom hated him; and they
always stood on tiptoe, looking for a chance of doing him a mischief. One day,
it happened that San Michele was absent on his private business; and Giacinto
was alone. If that he had been altogether holy, he would have spent the time in
making a meditation,──meditation on the transcendent splendour of his patron,
per esempio;──but he was thoughtless, as all boys are, when they are not exactly
good, and not exactly bad: and he went out by the brook-side to play at quoits,
neither spitting thrice, nor making horns, nor holding both his thumbs, in
defiance of sinister things, being young enough to have no fear. And Sathanas
saw his chance. He called his slave, the kakodaimon who blows that horrible wind
which the people of these regions call the Bora; and, when Giacinto retired one
pace, balancing his quoit, His Wickedness made himself invisible, and came and
stood in front of him, at a distance of thirteen cubits; and, when Giacinto,
springing forward, straightening upward, hurled his quoit, the said kakodaimon
snorted just one fierce cold gust, blowing back the heavy disc on to the
forehead of the boy, from which he took a wound, so deadly that he fell down
there, and died.
   "Then the said kakodaimon fled before San Michele Arcangiolo, swooping from
paradise; who mourned the death of his little friend, lying in his blood upon
the greensward, like some white flower stained purple, the victim of a mower's
scythe.
   "And the Great Prince took his scales of gold; and he weighed the soul of
Giacinto then and there; for he hoped to find him ready for the diadem of
paradise. But, alas, Giacinto's little sins weighed down the scale; and the
archangel became aware that this was a matter of purgatory. So, pleading before
the Padre Eterno, obtaining the Order which he craved, he buried the boy's body
in a cool place, at the margin of the brook; and he blessed the grave * with the
sign of our salvation: at which sign a tall, slim plant uprose, with leaves of
tender green, crowned with a flower so rare and ravishing, that, when one sees
it, one prays to be made all nose: and, in this martagon lily, having on its
petals words of woe, the archangel enclosed the soul of his friend Giacinto.
   "So he must remain until the ultimate day of judging; Giacinto, once so brave
of hand, so shrill of voice, so clever of limb, now silent, helpless, at the
mercy of all the world, until to Divine Justice he shall have atoned for his
little sins.
   "Also, there was a maid called Dafne; and San Michele Arcangiolo wished her
well, offering to take her under his protection: but she was difficult, and not
a little silly.
   "Soon she died; and, immediately, she saw what she had missed;──great was her
grief. And she was changed into a laurel, whose leaves the Great Prince wears
for a garland on his helm──the victorious flower of his handiwork, which he won
when Dafne hardened her heart no more against him.
   "So she must remain until the ultimate day of judging; silent, helpless, at
the mercy of all the world, because in life she preferred her own will, and
refused the friendship of the god with the hair of gold.
   "Also, there was a boy called Narchiso, an object of admiration, with songs,
among his equals, and among his elders, and an object of interest to all young
maids. But, for these, he had no liking; though some died for love of his grace.
He was the only son of his parents. His sister was their only daughter. These
two were twins, as like as two little drops of dew; and each one loved the
other, using all their love till none was left unused. Therefore, Narchiso and
his sister ran away into a forest, similar to this forest. They lived in peace,
in those green solitudes; until the maiden died, and angels carried her candid
soul to paradise.
   "Narchiso was alone, longing for his sister every day, sitting by the
stillness of a water-spring, bathed, as to his tender body, by the yellow and
purple petals of wall-flowers──wall-flowers, which hold a soul, by name Ione, of
whose history I am ignorant, knowing nothing more than just the name.
   "And, by-and-bye, when his streaming tears had ceased to flow, and the
blindness of his grief had worn away, this boy Narchiso beheld the reflection of
his image in the water. And, in looking on the likeness of himself, he saw the
likeness of Candida, his dead sister; and, from that day forward, he moved not
from his station by the water-spring, spending each hour of daylight in
contemplation of the gracious loveliness reflected in the shadows of the pool;
until he lost his longing for the maid in paradise, and loved, with all his
soul, the apparition of his image in the water. And later,──for nothing in the
world stands still, not even Love, which must descend, when there are no angel-
wings to raise it high,──later, his affection passed, from the mere reflection
of his beauty, to his veritable self.
   "Then, he had no speck of true love left; because true love is never for
one's self, but always for another,──and, for choice, for one unworthy, whereby
the opportunity for sacrifice arises, whence merits may be won:──and, in the
end, when he was nothing but a mass of selfishness, Narchiso pined away and
died, and, for his purgatory, he was imprisoned in a daffy-dilly.
   "So he must remain until the ultimate day of judging; never near water where
he might see his image and so gain joy; silent, helpless, at the mercy of all
the world, till all his selfishness is purged away.
   "True, sir? Oh, yes,──but, true! For you commanded that I should never lie.
And, indeed, I have given you the sayings of Frat' Innocente-of-the-Nine-Quires,
──sayings which go very near the path of truth. But, often enough, I, who speak
to you, have seen the faces, and the waving arms, of lovely milk-white girls,
looking at me from oak-trees, and among the river-reeds. Also, sir,──and not so
long ago,──you, yourself, recited histories concerning a noble lord of some
strange country, who made musick, so divinely, on his chitarone, that wild
beasts became like gentle little kittens, and trees tore up their roots to
follow in his train, as virgin-lilies, in the canticle, follow the Agnello di
Dio whithersoever He goeth. Yes, sir; it is all as true as life, or sunlight:
and, if I believe that trees can walk, it will not be too difficult for you to
believe that flowers must remain still, saying never a word, moving never by the
breadth of Arachne's Thread from the place whereon they grow, by reason of the
souls whom they have to hold in purgatory.
   "Poor dear flowers! Think, sir, how that a nightmare chains them, that they
shall not leap nor run! Think of the torment which they suffer in hearing wicked
words, or foolish words, which they may not notice, being doomed to silence! By
the goat! Yes! And, if one owes courtesy to animals and persons, why not owe it
also to flowers? Yet they are trampled down or torn to pieces; but never by me,
Teodoro, for I will not be cruel to those persons who go in sadness, being less
strong, less free than I;──at least, not when I know them as they are. And I do
know those whose histories I have chaunted; therefore, knowing them, I must be
kind. There are plenty of other flowers, of whom I have not learned that they
are souls in purgatory. These I may allow myself to pluck, and keep my
conscience clean; seeing that one earns no blame for what one does not refuse to
know. But Desiderio knows,──have I not made all the boys to know?──and
especially about Narchiso in the daffy-dillies, seeing so many millions in this
forest, day after day. Yet he has not scrupled to tear up daffy-dillies, twenty
at the least, and to twist, of them, a garland for his ruthless head.
   "Wherefore, I have called Desiderio a malefactor, whom presently I shall
awaken; and he will take from me a whipping of the very finest for his
forgetfulness, and for his discourtesy;──that is to say, supposing that la sua
eccellenza still means me to keep his boys in order. Oh, sir, do look at him!
Oh, Madonna mia! Sir, be pleased to go and take a little stroll in the forest,
while I smack him!"
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XXIIIJ

ABOUT WHAT IS DUE TO CONTRITION

AT Vasto d' Aimone. The end of an awe-full afternoon.
   The hot air throbbed in paralysis and apprehension. In battalions, wild
black-purple clouds rolled up, massing in a mist saturated with sulphurous red,
with sombre grey.
   I was standing by the window. I did not care to move or speak. I felt the
elements to be marshalling for horrid war.
   "You know, sir, that you have not been making me very easy;" Toto said.
During four months, he had been away from home; and, being bored, he was
inclined to show contempt at what he called "these strange places" through which
it was my will to go. I was visiting him with my displeasure.
   I answered with no word. I waited for the outbreak of the storm. I could hear
wind swishing through the olives, whipping branches into smoke.
   "Eccellenza! Pardon!" He was not happy, evidently.
   I told him to be quiet. I did not tell him that I was sick with terror at the
imminent thunderstorm.
   A sword-like flame split the heavens, and set them all ablaze. The world
became black shadows floating on the blue of fire. On the instant, followed a
crash which shook the solid earth as a heron shakes a lizard. And, with a
scream, new winds awoke; and fled, on beating pinions.
   "Pardon, sir, pardon!" He flung himself upon the floor.
   I bade him count his beads. I was counting mine in my trousers' pocket as
fast as ever I could go, leaning against the window, and looking out to sea. He
came and stood near my right ankle.
   "Of your kindness, sir, pardon!"
   Sleet and hail hissed and raged, resembling steam.
   "Sir, I pray you to be merciful!"
   In the south-east, came glimpses of Monte Gargano, at times; and, when rivers
of flame rove ravines through mountains of black cloud, one could see the
Tremiti, dotting a sea of blinding blue. Lelio Orsi has painted such a
distracted storm-torn sky.
   "Sir, I confess myself to be a wicked boy!"
   The earth trembled, and was afraid. The waves of the sea rode high, and
dashed themselves to death against the towered rocks. Weird winds rushed
shrieking down to catch the whirling spume: but the blighting slash of hail
thwarted them, and scattered it, and beat it low.
   "Sir, I offer a promise to amend my naughty ways!"
   Lightning and thunder flickered and roared continually. Sea and sky rushed,
each pursuing other, through a black obscurity, which, splitting, gave brief
vistas of viridian blue.
   "Sir, pardon!"
   I was speechless, counting hidden beads with fervour, and motionless,
──learning the shapes and the sounds of the tumultuous spectacle, of the din,
with every wit. Toto moved to the distant corner of the window. He gave me such
a sort of look.
   Far away eastward, the Diomedan Islands flashed in view, riding on the
tortured water like a school of dolphins. In another moment, thunderclouds came
hurrying to blot them out.
   Toto said no more, aloud. He leaned upon the window-sill, and watched the
storm, muttering little things sometimes.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   The tempest was in its agony, ready to flee away and be at rest. Hailstones
melted into rain, which fell in steady sheets. Overhead, a greyer light began to
feel its way. But far away, and farther, sea and sky were frayed and torn by
heaving gusts of wind.
   Toto quivered as to his shoulders, but his face was hidden, pressed against
the pane.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

   The storm was leaving Vasto. Already, there was a cleared space in the
atmosphere, where the sea sobbed sullenly, convulsively, like the throats of
beaten women after rage. But the distance was black density; and fierce storms
swept and circled there in monstrous curves.
   "A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ah!!!" Toto gasped.
   It was a whirlpool of clouds, which drooped in swaying tassels of mist; and a
whirlpool of waves, which soared in hissing spray. From height and depth, they
rushed together seeking lips; and, twining, writhed close-clipped, hither,
thither, tortuously, over a boiling seething sea. A flash of lightning, like a
brandished sword, cut the rocking rolling column, and drove the storm away, and
yet away.
   "Sir, sir,──the day of the week, if you please?"
   "Thursday."
   "Ah!──And of the month?"
   "Don't know. Beginning of October. Third, I think."
   He did quick calculations with his fingers. He gave himself a little shake of
satisfaction. He returned to his station at the window.
   The storm was away at the back of Gargano, thinning into dissolution. I was
aware of a wet gleam from behind my tower; and, down the precipitous cliff
beneath, waves rolled with crests a-shine.
   Toto was muttering, "The day itself──forgiveness──who could now refuse?──"
   I concluded my more private matter with extreme alacrity, O clemens, O pia,
etc.; and observed that a person, knowing anything worth knowing and omitting to
let another share his joy, deserved to be hanged. Indeed, hanging was too good
for such an one, I said.
   Toto then revealed himself in all his majesty. His right hand was arranged in
a formal manner,──the first and second fingers stretched out straight, the third
and fourth reposing on the palm, the thumb erect and competent to wriggle when
occasion called,──and he preached in this wise:
   "After the blissful vision which has been vouchsafed, la sua eccellenza will
be aware that the Padre Eterno takes no shame at showing mercy to a sinner who
is truly contrite."
   I admitted the being aware of that.
   "Then, la sua eccellenza shall also know, that as soon as Giuda, cognominato
Iscariote, had sold his Master, a pain across the chest took him, which made him
feel very sorry, and try to make good the damage which he had done: but, then,
it was too late──it always is too late; and the thing went on. Nevertheless,
there was that one moment of contrition on the part of Giuda, cognominato
Iscariote,──a super-excellent trait in anyone, as well as a merit of sorts. It
passed. It was written down in the book of the deeds of his life,──written down
by the angel-guardian of Giuda, cognominato Iscariote.
   "And the next moment there came an arch-kakodaimon, looking very noble, but a
blackamoor: and His Wickedness climbed and clung upon the shoulders of Giuda,
cognominato Iscariote, and made him see a tree, and made him find a rope all
ready to his hand; and he gave him not a moment in which to think of praying for
a prayer; so he simply hanged himself; which made him very disappointed in the
flick of a finger, for the rope was old, and frayed,──just the kind of rope a
kakodaimon would provide!──and, when he leaped, it throttled him, and broke; and
dropped him deftly down to hell.
   "Here was a shocking thing,──a thing on which one had no right to calculate.
It was so upsetting to the plans; and it took the angel-guardian of Giuda,
cognominato Iscariote, unawares. Oh, he was bad, that Apostle!──undoubtedly,
very bad indeed,──an unscrupulous rascal, a bandit, an accursed Jew, and a
skinfull of covetousness and greed. Also, a felo de se. But still, there was
that one moment of true contrition. In justice, there was something due to him
for that.
   "And that charitable angel-guardian spread his white-winged arms, swimming i'
the air right up to paradise, as swiftly as an arrow feathered with a sea-gull's
plume: and he passed through the gate of pearl, speaking neither to his
brothers, nor to the shining gods, for his errand was an urgent one; and he
pierced the radiant throng of angels and of the spirits of just men perfected;
flying onward──onward──always onward, to the Duomo in the heart of heaven, where
he went and begged the favour of an Audience of the Dweller-In-The-Innermost: to
Whom he, weeping, told a pitiful tale of how that he had had a man to guard,
──and how that man had, somehow, tasted sin,──and, liking it, had plunged
therein as in a bath,──soaking his soul for years and years and years,──until it
softened, and became a limp rag of a soul, weak, feeble, having no more the
strength to rise erect, to fight the battle of a Christian man against
temptation and the kakodaimons of the depths;──and, by and bye, he found himself
to be incapable of doing well,──sin-saturated as he was:──then, last of all, he
crowned a wicked life with a Crime,──too monstrous to be named in words,──it
would be within the knowledge of omniscience. Furthermore, the angel said, after
that Crime, his man had made experience of a moment of efficacious grace (gratia
efficax), from which he drew enough of goodwill to repent him truly of his sin,
──there was his confession, I have betrayed Innocence, to prove it;──and, after,
in a wild spasm of remorse, he had given himself a hanging with a silly sort of
rope, the first that came to hand, but rotten; which had played him the trick of
breaking, and had dropped him down to hell.
   "That was the whole case, the angel-guardian said; and, having performed
three profound prostrations as prescribed in the ritual, he arose, and spread
his hands, palm upward, weeping, praying La Suprema Maestà e Grandezza to show
mercy, and to give a righteous judgment, because of the moment, just the one
moment, in which the miserable Apostle had shown contrition.
   "And Domeniddio loved that angel-guardian for his gentle tender heart; and He
deigned to make it an Order that, once in every year until the consummation of
the world, upon the day which is farthest from the Birthday of the Chalice,
──that being the anniversary of his monstrous Crime,──to Giuda, cognominato
Iscariote, should be conceded the inestimably envied privilege of being drawn
from the flaming pit of hell, where never water is, and of being dipped by his
angel-guardian in the middle of the sea; whereby his burning pangs might be
assuaged, for just twice as long a time as his contrition had endured, according
to the scripture, where it is written, good measure, shaken together, pressed
down, and running over the pottle.
   "Sir, you have here the day itself: the portent has been manifest before your
eyes. For, you yourself have been grieved by the stillness of the stifling heat;
and you yourself have seen how that the sky has frowned, and blazed, and shaken;
and how that the sea has hissed, and seethed, and boiled, at the apparition of
one loathsome little red-hot atom of bad man, who came, cloud-covered, from the
pit of hell, to take his yearly dose of coolness.
   "And, sir,──I, also, have experienced an emotion of contrition:──it began
more than one hour ago:──and it will last as long as I shall last:──dear Don
Friderico──I do assure you, sir,──I do assure──"
   I gave him, in sign of amity, a cigarette.
   I was very happy to have seen a waterspout.
   And here was my lord the sun, beaming like a bride, at nightfall, in her
crown and yellow-crocus-coloured veil.
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

(These Six Tales were printed in the "Yellow Book" in 1895-6. It has been deemed
advisable to include them in this instalment: but it should be remembered that
they were related a year before the Spring and Summer sections.)

XXX

ABOUT SAMPIETRO AND SAMPAOLO

"ONCE upon a time, sir, the people in Rome were building two churches; the one
for Sampietro on the Monte Vaticano, and the other for Sampaolo outside the
walls of the city. The two gods used to spend all their spare time sitting on
one of the balconies of heaven, and watching the builders; for they were very
anxious about their churches. Sampietro desired to have His church finished
before that of Sampaolo; wherefore, every night after it was dark outside, He
used to leave the keys of heaven in the porch, and to ask His brother,
Santandrea, to give an eye to the gate while He went round the corner for a
minute or two. Then He would slip down to the church of Sampaolo; and take to
pieces the work which the builders had done during the day; and if there were
any carvings, or pillars, or things of that sort, which took His fancy, He would
carry them away and build them into His own church, patching up the part, from
which He had taken them, so well that no one could tell the difference. And so,
while the builders of the church of Sampietro made a progress which was
wonderful, the builders of the church of Sampaolo did not make any progress at
all.
   "This went on for a long while, and Sampaolo became more uneasy in his mind
every day, and he could not take his food, and nothing gave him any pleasure.
Santacecilia tried to amuse him with some new songs which she had made; but this
drove him into anger, for he said that a woman ought to learn in silence with
subjection.
   "One day, while he was leaning over the balcony, he saw two pillars taken
into his church, which were of yellow antique, most rare and precious, and had
been sent from some foreign country; I do not know its name. He was altogether
delighted; and he went down to the gate, and asked Sampietro to be so kind as to
tell him whether He had ever seen finer pillars. But Sampietro only said that
they were rather pretty; and then He asked Sampaolo to get out of the way, and
to let Him shut the gate, in case that some improper souls should sneak in.
   "That night, sir, when it was dark, Sampietro went and robbed those two
pillars of yellow antique, and set them up in His own church. But in the
morning, Sampaolo, having thought of nothing but his new pillars all through the
night, said a black mass as being shorter; and then he went on to the balcony,
to have the pleasure of looking at his church with its beautiful pillars of
yellow antique. And when he saw that they were not there, he became disturbed in
his mind; and he went and sat down in a shady place to consider what he should
do next. After much thought, it appeared to him that he had been robbed; and as
he knew that a person, who has once committed a theft, will continue to steal as
long as he remains free, he resolved to watch his church at night, that he might
discover who had stolen his pillars.
   "During the day the builders of the church of Sampaolo put up two fresh
pillars of yellow antique, and two of porphyry, and two of green antique as
well. Sampaolo gloated over these fine things from his seat on the balcony, for
he knew them to be so beautiful that they would tempt the thief to make another
raid, and then he would catch him.
   "After Ave Maria, he made friends with one of the angels, who was putting on
his armour in the guard-room before taking his place in the line of sentries who
encircle the Città di Dio both by day and night. These angels, sir, are a
hundred cubits high, and Sampaolo asked one of them, whose post would be near
the gate, to hide him under his wings, so that he could watch for the robber
without being seen. The angel said that he was most happy to oblige; for
Sampaolo was a Roman of Rome, and very well-thought-of in heaven; and, when the
night came on, he hid Sampaolo in the shadow of his feathers.
   "Presently that Apostle saw Sampietro go out of the gate; and the light, of
which the bodies of the gods are made, went with Him, so that, though the earth
was in darkness, Sampaolo could see plainly all that He did. And He picked up
the two fresh pillars of yellow antique, and the two of red porphyry, and also
the two of green antique in His hand, just as you, sir, would pick up six paint-
brushes; and He carried them to His own church on the Monte Vaticano, and set
them up there. And when He had patched up the place from which He had taken the
pillars so well that they could not be missed, He came back into heaven.
   "Sampaolo met Him at the gate and accused Him of thieving; but Sampietro
answered blusteringly that He was the Prince of the Apostles, and that He had a
right to all the best pillars for His church. Sampaolo replied that, once
before, he had had occasion to withstand Sampietro to the face because He was to
be blamed (at Antioch, sir); and then high words arose, and the two gods
quarrelled so loudly that the Padre Eterno, sitting on His Great White Throne,
sent San Michele Arcangiolo to bring the disputants into The Presence.
   "There, Sampaolo said:
   "`O Re dej secolj, immortale et invisibile,──The citizens of Rome are
building two churches, the one for me and the other for Sampietro; and for some
time I have noticed that while the builders of my church do not seem to make any
progress in their work, the church of Sampietro is nearly finished. The day
before yesterday (and to-day is Saturday), two pillars of yellow antique were
set up in my church, most beautiful pillars, O Signor Iddio; but somebody stole
them away during the night. And yesterday six pillars were set up, two of yellow
antique, two of green antique, and two of porphyry. To-night I watched to see if
they would be stolen; and I have seen Sampietro go down and take them to His own
church on the Monte Vaticano.'
   "The Padre Eterno turned to Sampietro asking whether He had anything to say.
   "And Sampietro answered:
   "`O Re del Cielo,──We have long ago learnt the lesson that it is not well to
deny that which La Sua Divina Maestà knows to be true; wherefore We acknowledge
that We have taken the pillars, and many other decent things too, from the
church of Sampaolo, and have set them up in Our Own. Nevertheless, We desire to
represent that there can be no question of robbery here. O Dio Omnipotente, You
have deigned to make Us the Prince of the Apostolic College, the Keeper of the
Keys of Heaven, and the Head of Your Church on earth; and, We ask, is it fitting
that the churches which men build in Our honour should be less magnificent than
those which they build for Sampaolo. Therefore, in taking these paltry pillars,
concerning which he chooses to make a fuss, We are simply within Our right──a
right actually inherent in the dignity of the rank which Lo Splendore Immortale
della Sua Maestà has been graciously pleased to confer upon Us.'
   "But this defence did not content the Padre Eterno. He said that the secret
method in which Sampietro worked was a proof that He knew Himself to be doing
what He ought not to do; and, further, that it was not fair to the men who were
building the church of Sampaolo to take away the fine things for which they
spent their money for the honour of Sampaolo. Wherefore He cautioned Sampietro
not to allow it to occur again.
   "On the next day there was a festa, when the builders did not work; but, on
the Monday, they placed in the church of Sampaolo several slabs of lapis lazuli
and malachite; and during the night Sampietro, who was the most bold and daring
of men, had the hardihood to take them away and to put them in His own church,
right before the very eyes of Sampaolo, who stood at the gate to watch Him. By
the time He was returned, Sampaolo had made a complaint before the Padre Eterno;
and Sampietro found Himself most severely spoken to, and warned that, supposing
Him to persist in His disobedience, not even His exalted rank, and general
usefulness, and good conduct would save Him from punishment.
   "The following day, which was Tuesday, a marvellous baldachino of jasper and
violet marble, being a gift from the Grand Turk, was put up in the church of
Sampaolo; and at night Sampietro descended as usual and robbed it. For the third
time Sampaolo complained to the Padre Eterno, and then all the Court of Heaven
was summoned into The Presence to hear Judgment given.
   "The Padre Eterno said──and His Voice, sir, was like rolling thunder──that as
Sampietro had been guilty of disobedience to the Divine Decree, in that, urged
on by vanity, He had taken the property of Sampaolo for His own church on the
Monte Vaticano; and, by the act, had prevented the church of Sampaolo from
becoming finished; it was an Order that, until the consummation of the world,
the great church of Sampietro in Rome should never be completed. Also, the Padre
Eterno added that, as He would give no encouragement to sneaks and tell-tale-
tits, the church of Sampaolo Outside-The-Walls, though finished, should be
subjected to destruction and demolition, and, as often as it was rebuilt, so
often should it be destroyed.
   "And you know, sir, that the church of Sampaolo is always being burned down
or blown up, and that the church of Sampietro has never left the builders'
hands."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XXXJ

ABOUT THE LILIES OF SANLUIGI

"YOU know, sir, that Sansebastiano and Sampancrazio were always very friendly
together. While they lived in this world, they were used to get into mischief
each in the other's company; for they were extremely fond of playing unexpected
tricks upon the pagans who were putting the Christians to death.
   "Then, when their turn came, they gladly suffered martyrdom; and Sampancrazio
was killed by a black panther in the Colosseo of Rome, while Sansebastiano was
stuck as full of arrows as a hedgehog is of prickles; and when that did not kill
him he was beaten with a club until he died. And then they both went to live in
heaven for ever and the day after.
   "Now, I shall let you know what appearance they present, so that you may
recognise them when you see them. First of all, you must understand that the
gods in heaven have eternal youth; that is to say, if you are old when your life
in this world comes to its end, you just shut your eyes while your angel-
guardian takes you to paradise; and, when you open them the next minute, you are
there, and you have gone back to the prime of your life, that is, to the age of
forty-six when manhood begins, and so you are for always; but if you die while
you are young you do not change your age, but remain at the age at which you
died. That is, supposing you to depart in the odour of sanctity, or as a martyr,
which last is better,──and, of course, you can always do that if you choose.
And, even supposing it is good for you to have a little purgatory first, so long
as you shall have kept good friends with Madonnina, she will go and take you out
on the Saturday after you have died, and that door opens into paradise.
   "And your body, too, is changed, so that you cannot suffer any more pains or
illnesses. Oh, yes, it is made of flesh, just the same to look at as this; but,
instead of the flesh being made of the dust of the earth, it is made of the Fire
of God, and that is why wherever the gods go they are all effulgent like the
stars.
   "Ah, well! Sansebastiano was eighteen years old when he went to heaven, and
so he is always eighteen years old; and Sampancrazio was fourteen, and so he is
always fourteen; and they are quite as cheerful and daring and mischievous as
they were in this world; indeed when a joke has been played upon any of the
gods, they always say, `By Bacchus! there are those boys again.'
   "There are, of course, very many boys in heaven, but now I am only telling
you of these two──Sansebastiano and Sampancrazio, and the third, whose name is
Sanluigi; and the fourth who is the angel-guardian of Sansebastiano, called
Sebastianello.
   "You must know that Sanluigi was altogether different from Sansebastiano and
Sampancrazio. Of course, he had not been a martyr like them, though he was
sumptuously furnished with curious virtues; and I suppose his manners are as
formal as they are, because he has only been in heaven a little while, and finds
the novelty surprising. He always goes about with his eyes on the ground, you
know, and there is not a bit of fun in him. You see, he was a Jesuit; and there
were no such things in the world until hundreds of years after Sansebastiano and
Sampancrazio had gained their haloes. When he first came, Sansebastiano and
Sampancrazio thought there was another boy like themselves to join in their
games; and they were quite eager to make his acquaintance, and to give him a
welcome. So the moment the cantors of the quire gave the intonation of the Iste
Confessor, they rushed down to the gate to offer him their friendship. Sanluigi
came slowly through the archway, dressed in a cassock and a surplice. He carried
a lily in his hand, and his eyes were fixed upon the ground; but when
Sansebastiano and Sampancrazio, whose arms were locked together, said how
pleased they were to see him, he looked up at them shyly and said, `Many
thanks,' and then the vision of Sansebastiano so shocked him that he blushed
deeply and re-veiled his eyes; and, afterward, he kept out of their way as much
as possible.
   "You see, sir, Sansebastiano was quite naked: indeed he had nothing about him
but his halo and an arrow; for, when the pagans made a target of him, they
stripped him of his clothes, and so he came to heaven like that. You may see his
picture in the duomo whenever you choose, if you do not believe me. But he was
so beautiful and muscular, and straight and strong, and his flesh so white and
fine, and his hair like shining gold, that no one had ever thought of him as
being naked. Sanluigi, however, found him perfectly dreadful; and pretended to
shiver whenever he met him, which was not very often, because Sanluigi spent
most of his time in the chapel saying office.
   "Sansebastiano did consider him a little rude, perhaps, and, of course,
Sampancrazio agreed with his friend; and, though they were quite good-natured
and unwilling to make any unpleasantness, still they could not help feeling hurt
when this newcomer──and that was the worst name they ever called him──turned up
his nose because their minds and their manners were more gay and free than his.
   "One very hot afternoon in summer the two gods, Sansebastiano and
Sampancrazio, went to practise their diving in a delicious pool of cool water
under a waterfall; and when they were tired of that, they reclined on the bank
and dangled their legs in the stream, while the sun was drying their haloes.
   "Presently Sanluigi came creeping along with an old surplice in his hand, and
he went up to Sansebastiano and offered it to him, holding his lily up before
his face all the time he was speaking. Sansebastiano did not move, but lay there
on the green grass, looking at Sanluigi with his merry laughing eyes, and saying
not a word; and Sampancrazio did the same. Sanluigi repeated his offer from
behind his lily, and implored Sansebastiano to put on the surplice,──just to
hide his poor legs, he said. Sansebastiano replied that he did not think there
was anything amiss with his legs, which were good enough, as far as he could
see, because the Padre Eterno had made them like that, and He always did all
things well. Then Sanluigi offered the surplice to Sampancrazio, who was also
naked, because he had been bathing; but he laughed as he answered, with many
thanks, that he had some very good clothes of his own, which he would put on
when his body was dry; and he pointed out his beautiful tunicle of white wool
with a broad purple stripe down the front, and his golden bulla, and his sandals
of red leather, with the ivory crescent on the toes, for he was noble, sir, and
also a Roman of Rome. Sanluigi said that the tunicle was rather short but it was
better than nothing; and then he turned to Sansebastiano and again entreated him
to put on the surplice.
   "Presently Sansebastiano stretched out a splendid arm from the long grass
wherein he was lying, and he grabbed the surplice so suddenly that Sanluigi
dropped down on his knees, and his lily became disarranged; and, while he was
recovering himself, Sansebastiano rolled the surplice into a ball and tossed it
over to Sampancrazio, who threw it back to him; and the two saints played
pallone with it quite merrily for some minutes; and all the time Sanluigi was
protesting that he had not brought it out for that purpose, and beseeching them
not to be so frivolous. But the game amused them to such an extent that they
were now running to and fro upon the bank, and taking long shots each at other.
Sansebastiano had just made a particularly clever catch; but in returning the
ball he over-balanced himself and tumbled, splash heels over head, into the
pool. This mischance had a bad effect upon his aim, and instead of the ball
going in the direction he intended──that is to say, towards Sampancrazio──it
flew straight in Sanluigi's face. He again was holding up his lily for a screen,
and consequently it was crushed and broken, and all the blooms destroyed; and he
seemed so grieved, that the two friends──for Sansebastiano immediately swam to
the side and climbed out of the pool──tried to console him by telling him that
they would get him another in two winks of an eye.
   "But Sanluigi said that would be of no avail, because he always got his
lilies off his altars below there in the world, and no others would suit him;
and there were none there now, because it was not his festa till to-morrow, and
nobody would offer him any lilies till then.
   "When they heard this, Sansebastiano and Sampancrazio burst into roars of
laughter, and they made such a noise that the Padre Eterno, Who was walking in
the garden in the cool of the day, sent one of the cherubini from the aureola to
know what it was all about.
   "Sampancrazio jumped into his tunicle and put his bulla round his neck, while
Sansebastiano laced his sandals for him; and then the two friends stood at
`Attention!' as the Suprema Maestà Grandezza came under the trees towards them.
Of course you know, sir, that Sansebastiano was in the army when he lived in the
world; and he had taught Sampancrazio.
   "Then Sansebastiano looked boldly upon the Face of God, and said:
   "`O Signor Iddio Altissimo, we were laughing at Gigi because he will not have
the lilies of paradise, but prefers the nasty things which are put upon his
altars in the world.'
   "Sanluigi got quite angry at hearing his lilies called nasty; and the Padre
Eterno said that the word certainly ought not to have been used unless
Sansebastiano had a very good reason.
   "Then Sampancrazio explained, that he was sure Sansebastiano did not mean to
make any reflection upon the lilies quâ lilies, because it would not be becoming
to speak against the handiwork of the Padre Eterno; but it was because the
people who offered the lilies to Sanluigi did not come by them in an honourable
manner, that he had called them nasty: and Sansebastiano nodded his head forward
and said that was just it.
   "These words made Sanluigi still more angry; and his wrath was so righteous
and so unaffected, that Sansebastiano saw him to be really in ignorance of the
dirty tricks of his clients; so he said that if La Divina Maestà would deign to
allow them, he and Sampancrazio would show Sanluigi the source from which his
lilies came. The Padre Eterno was graciously pleased to grant permission, and
passed serenely on His Way, for He knew Sansebastiano to be a boy whom you might
trust anywhere.
   "Then Sansebastiano told Sanluigi that if he could put up with the company of
himself and of Sampancrazio, he proposed a little gita into the world that very
night; because, the next day being his festa, all the boys would be getting
lilies for his altars; and in the meantime he invited him to come and look over
the ramparts.
   "So the three young gods went and stood upon the wall of gold; and, beneath
their feet, they could see the world whirling round in space. Sansebastiano
pointed out that, by midnight, they would be just above a little white city
which clustered up the side of a distant mountain. He said that it was called
Genzano, and that the Prince Lorenzo di Francesco Sforza-Cesarini had there a
palace with the most beautiful gardens in all the world, which were certain to
be a-brim of lilies at that time of year.
   "Sanluigi made answer that he would like to say his matins and lauds, and to
prepare his meditation for the morning, before they started; and he agreed to
meet Sansebastiano and Sampancrazio at a little before midnight.
   "You know, sir, that there is no night in heaven, or rather, I should say,
that it does not get dark inside there; and so, when Sanluigi came to look for
Sansebastiano and Sampancrazio, he found them in the orchard near the gate,
turning a skipping-rope for Santagnese and some of her friends; but Sanvito and
Sancelso, being tired of playing morra, were willing to take their places at the
rope; and then they were all ready to start on their journey.
   "Sansebastiano called his angel, Sebastianello, and told him to what place it
was desired to go.
   "I ought to have let you know that the appearance of Sebastianello was
exactly like that of Sansebastiano; only he did not carry an arrow, and he had
huge wings growing out of his arms of the same colour as his flesh, but whiter
towards the tips of the feathers. And then, of course, he was as high as a
giant, like all the other angels──and a hundred cubits high is their ordinary
size.
   "The three gods mounted him in this manner: Sampancrazio stood on his left
instep and put one arm round his leg to steady himself; and Sansebastiano stood
on his right instep and put one arm round his leg to steady himself too;
Sanluigi also stood on the right instep of Sebastianello, close to
Sansebastiano, who clasped him round the waist with his other arm. When they
were ready, the angel, with a downward swoop of his wings, rose from off the
wall of gold, and, spreading out his pinions to their full extent, remained
motionless, and dropped gently but swiftly towards the earth.
   "I should tell you that they had all made themselves invisible, as the gods
do when they come down into the world, unless there shall be some one present
who is good enough to merit a vision of the gods. When they were alighted in the
garden by the magnolia-tree, they left the angel there; and went to sit down
near the lily-beds. You understand that no one could see them, and they rested
against the edge of the fountain and waited; and Sanluigi took out his beads to
wile away the time.
   "Presently, three or four men came into the garden very quietly, and they
stood under the shade of a blue hydrangea bush. The eldest of them appeared to
be giving directions to the others, and then they separated, and went each to a
different part of the garden.
   "`Who were those men?' Sanluigi asked.
   "`Tell him, 'Bastiano,' Sampancrazio whispered.
   "`Gardeners,' Sansebastiano murmured; `they have to watch all through the
night between the twentieth and the twenty-first of June.'
   "`And I suppose they will be going to cut the lilies for the boys who are
coming to fetch them?' Sanluigi said.
   "Sansebastiano and Sampancrazio nearly choked with laughter; and then
Sansebastiano said that, if Sanluigi would have the goodness to be patient, he
should see what he should see.
   "They watched the gardeners go and hide themselves in the syringas, and for
some time there was silence.
   "Then there came six ragamuffin boys, creeping cautiously through the
darkness, who made their way towards the lily-beds. As soon as they were there,
the men in the bushes jumped out upon them with a loud yell, whereupon the boys
took to their heels, fleeing in a direction different to that by which they had
come. The men gave chase, but the boys ran so swiftly that they were soon out of
sight. Now, as soon as they were gone, twenty or thirty more ragamuffin boys
rushed noiselessly out of the darkness, and began to cut the lilies into sheaves
as fast as possible. In a short time there was not one left standing, and then
they made off with their spoils and disappeared.
   "The next minute the gardeners came back, loudly lamenting that they had
failed to catch the robbers; but when they saw the beds where the lilies once
had stood, they called for Madonna to have pity on them. And the chief gardener
also wept, for he said the Prince would surely send him to prison.
   "But the three gods continued to sit still by the fountain.
   "Sanluigi was trembling very greatly; but because he is, as you know, of such
an admirable innocence, he did not understand what he had seen; and he begged
his companions to explain it.
   "So Sansebastiano told him that the boys of the world were wicked little
divels, and very clever, too. Wherefore it was their custom to send the six best
runners first, because they knew that the gardeners would be watching. And these
six were to make the said gardeners chase them and to lead them a long dance, so
that the others could come, as soon as the place was clear, and steal the
lilies. All of which had been done.
   "And then Sanluigi grieved greatly at this appalling turpitude; but most of
all because the gardeners would lose their places. So he asked Sansebastiano if
he could not do something for them.
   "Sansebastiano answered that they would be very pleased and quite happy if
Sanluigi would show himself to them, for they were most respectable men, and
pious into the bargain; neither had they sworn nor used bad words.
   "But Sanluigi was so modest that he did not like to show himself alone, and
he held out his hands, the one to Sansebastiano and the other to Sampancrazio,
saying:
   "`My friends──if you allow me to say so──dear 'Bastiano──and dear Zino──who
have been so kind to me, let us all show ourselves, and then I will give them
back the lilies.'
   "So they called Sebastianello and mounted upon his insteps again; and then a
silver light, more bright than any star, beamed from them, and the gardeners saw
in the midst of the blaze the giant angel by the magnolia-tree, and the three
gods standing in front of him──Sanluigi in the middle, with Sansebastiano on his
right hand and Sampancrazio on his left hand. Then the gardeners fell on their
knees returning thanks for this vision; and, as the angel spread his wings and
rose soaring from the ground, Sanluigi made * the sign of the cross over the
garden. But the men stood all amazed, and watched till the brightness seemed to
be only a tiny star; and so the three gods went back with the angel to paradise.
   "And, after they had disappeared, the gardeners saw the lily-beds to be full
of flowers more beautiful than ever had been seen before. But when the thieves
brought their stolen flowers to the Church of Sanluigi in Via Livia they were
nothing but sticks and dirty weeds.
   "Those three gods are most friendly together now, because Sansebastiano and
Sampancrazio cannot help admiring Sanluigi for his strange innocence, as well as
for the strange penance with which he gained his place in paradise; and they are
always delighted to do anything to oblige him, because, having been longer there
than he, they understand the ways of that blessed place so well; while Sanluigi
carries only the lilies of paradise, and is never so happy as when he is
choosing the best branches of golden palm for his two martyr-friends; nor does
he allow himself to be shocked at Sampancrazio on account of his gay heart, nor
at Sansebastiano because he is naked and not ashamed.
   "How should he be ashamed, sir?"
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XXXIJ

A CAPRICE OF SOME CHERUBIM

"WHEN you have the happiness, sir, to see the Padre Eterno sitting upon His
Throne, I can assure you that, at least, your eyes will be satisfied with the
spectacle of many splendid personages who are there also.
   "These, you know, are called the angels, and they are in nine rows of endless
depth. All these rows are in the shape of the body of a fish, just like that
gold ring on your finger. Those in the first row near by are named serafini, but
I am not to speak of them. Those in the second row are called cherubini; and you
will find their appearance quite beautiful and curious to look at. They have
neither arms, nor bodies, nor legs, like the other angels. They are simply
heads, like those of little boys. Their eyes are as brown as the shadows on the
stream, which you fished last Thursday, when the sun was shining through the
trees. Their skin, if you will only believe me, has the colour and brightness of
the blue jewels which la Signora Duchessa wears at night, and their hair waves
like the sea by Ardea. They have no ears; but, in the place where the ears of a
boy would be, they have wings shaped like those of a sand-piper, and blue as the
sky at day-dawn. These flutter and shine for ever in regular watches in the
second ring of the Glory of the Highest, to cool the perfumed air with a gentle
quivering of their feathers.
   "Once upon a time, some of these cherubini came to hear of the pastimes with
which people in the world weary themselves; and they humbly asked permission of
the Padre Eterno to make a little gita to the earth, and to have a little divel
to play with, the next time they should be off duty. And the Padre Eterno, Who
always allows you to have your own way when He knows that it will teach you a
lesson, made the sign of the cross, and said, *** IT IS ALLOWED TO YOU.
   "So the following day a very large number──I believe about ninety-five
milliards, but I should not like to be quite sure, because I do not know exactly
──of these beautiful little blue birds of heaven were taken by San Michele
Arcangiolo down into the world, and they perched in the trees in the gardens of
the Palazzo Sforza-Cesarini, in that city over the lake.
   "San Michele Arcangiolo left them there, while he made the second of his
journeys into the pit of hell. The first, you shall know, was when he had
conquered the prince of the divels in a dreadful duel and bound him in chains
and flames for a thousand years. As he passed along the pathway down the red-hot
rocks, the flames of burning divels licked upward till, meeting the cool air of
paradise which San Michele Arcangiolo breathed, they curved backward, and still
upward, forming a sort of triumphal arch of yellow flame above his head.
   "When he arrived at the gate where hope must be laid down, he called aloud
that the Father and King of gods and men had occasion for the services of a
young imp, bad, but not too bad. The arch-fiend shook his chains with rage,
because he was obliged to obey; and caused a horrible little kakodaimon to flash
into bodily shape from a puddle of molten brimstone.
   "If you looked at his face or his body, you would have thought he was a boy
of the age of fourteen years; but his eyeballs glittered with the red of a
burning coal. If you looked at his arms, you would have thought he was a bat,
for wings grew there of spikes and skin. Oh, and he had nasty little horns in
his hair, but it was not hair but vipers; and from his waist to his feet he was
a he-goat, and all over he was scarlet. It was a different scarlet to the
scarlet coat of that English soldier whom I saw once by the Porta Pia of Rome. I
can only make you understand what I mean, by saying that it was the colour of
the ashes of burning wood, which have been almost dead, but which you have blown
up into a fiery glow without flame. He was much that is bad and hideous from his
hoofs to his horns; and no one, whether he were god, or angel, or man as you
are, sir, so long as he had the protection of Madonna, would need to be a bit
afraid of him; because his nastiness was clear, and he could be seen through
like a piece of glass; and in the middle of him there was his dirty dangling
heart as black as ink.
   "San Michele Arcangiolo, who knows exactly how to deal with everybody, and
especially with a scimiotto like this, stuck his lance through the length of the
little divel's belly, just as Gianetta would spit a woodcock for toasting; and
holding it out before him,──it is always best to see mischief in front of you,
──he carried the writhing, wriggling little divel up into the world. The flames,
as before, licked upward and around the great archangel, but never a feather was
singed, nor a blister came upon his whitest skin, for they could not pierce the
ice of his purity; but all the same they made the little divel kick and
struggle,──just as I should, sir, if you whipped me naked with a whip of red-hot
wires, instead of with the lilac twigs which you do use when I am black with
crime.
   "So they came into the Prince his garden; and, having released the little
divel from his uncomfortable position, San Michele Arcangiolo──who, because he
commands the armies in heaven, is very fond of soldiers──went down into the city
to pass a half-hour inspecting the barracks.
   "When the little divel found himself free, he could hardly believe his good
luck; and sat for a few minutes rubbing the sparks out of his eyes, and
wondering what his next torture would be. Meanwhile, the cherubini sat in the
trees saying nothing, but watching with all their might, for never had they seen
such a thing before.
   "Presently, as nothing happened to the little divel, he plucked up what small
courage he had to take a sly look round. The first thing he saw was the fountain
near the magnolia-tree; and as the divels know very well what water is, although
a rare commodity in their own country, where one drop is worth more than all the
wealth the world has ever seen, he plunged head-foremost into the basin, to cool
the burning pangs which continually torment him. And still the cherubini said no
word; but they watched with all their eyes.
   "Now the basin, sir, is a deep one, as you know, because the noble Sforza
often dive in there when the sun is in Leo. And the little divel disappeared in
the water. But, a moment after, his head popped up, twitching with pain, amid
clouds of steam and a frightful hissing; and he screamed very much and began to
clamber over the edge with every circumstance of speed.
   "When he got on the grass, he jumped and skipped all over the place, and
flapped his wings and squeezed his hairy legs, and stroked his naked breast, and
rolled about on the ground, and leaped, and howled, till the cherubini, finding
him to be most diverting, laughed so much that they tumbled out of the trees,
and came and fluttered round the little divel; for this was a far funnier
entertainment even than that which they had promised themselves.
   "And the reason of it all is very easy to understand, if you will only think.
You see, one of the torments that the divels and the damned have to bear is to
be disappointed alway; they never get their wishes fulfilled; all their plans,
no matter how carefully they construct them, fall to the ground; all their
arrangements alway are upset at the very last moment, and everything goes by the
rule of contrary. So, when the wretched little creature plunged into the cold
water, the heat of hell-flame boiled it, in a flash; and, instead of being
cooled at all, the little divel took a very handsome scalding. Now, when the
cherubini had had their fill of laughter, and could observe accurately this
sight, which was to them so strange, they saw great patches of scalded flesh
hanging in shreds and strips from his neck and sides and back and belly, and the
skinny leather of his wings crinkled and warped, and the horn of his hoofs
beginning to peel; and they would have felt sorry, if to grieve over a little
divel had not been wrong. So they said nothing, hovering in the air around him,
and looking at him with their clear eyes all the time.
   "The little divel looked at them too; and, being a cheeky little beast, he
asked who, the hell, they were staring at.
   "They said that they came to play with him, and they desired him to do some
more tricks, and to tell them merry stories, and where he came from, and what he
did there, and how he liked it, and why he had that nasty black heart-shaped
blotch hanging in the middle of his inside, and many other things.
   "The little divel answered that he had had a bad accident, and he was not
going to hurt his throat by shouting to a lot of blue birds up there in the sky;
and if they wanted him to answer their questions, they must come down lower,
because he was in great pain.
   "And the cherubini wondered very much where this pain could be in which the
little divel said he was; and, also, what kind of thing was this same pain: but,
as they were curious and wanted to know, they descended a bit until they
fluttered in a ring round and round the little divel's head.
   "And there they became aware of a horrible stench, and they said one to
another: `He stinks──stinks of sin!' But, because they wished to be diverted,
they resolved to put up with small inconveniences for a while.
   "Still the little divel was not satisfied; and perceiving that these would be
very agreeable playmates, he tried to make a good impression. So he flopped down
upon his stomach, and propped up his chin in his hands, and invited the
cherubini to come and sit round him and listen to such tales as they had never
heard before. And the cherubini came a little lower, but they did not sit down.
   "And then other things happened.
   "Suddenly, the cherubini found that they did not desire to play with this
little divel any longer; and with one swoop of their wings, sounding like the
strong chord you strike, sir, when you begin to strum your arciliuto in the
evening, they retired to paradise; while the earth opened under the little
divel, and a red flame, shaped like a hand with claws, came up and gripped and
squeezed him so tightly round the waist, that his face bulged, and his eyes went
out like crabs', and his breasts swelled like pumpkins, and his shoulders and
arms like sausages, and the skin of his hairy thighs became balloons, and burst;
and then he was tossed back into his puddle of molten brimstone.
   "When Ave Maria rang, and this company of cherubini went on duty in the
aureola, the Padre Eterno observed, from the expression of their faces, that
they had been insulted, and their feelings hurt. And, when La Sua Maestà deigned
to inquire the reason, they replied that the little divel, with whom He had
allowed them to play, had been very rude, and they had no desire to see him any
more; for they had asked him to show them funny tricks, and to tell them merry
stories, and where he came from, and what he did there, how he liked it, why he
had a nasty black heart-shaped blotch dangling in the middle of his inside, and
so forth; and that he had agreed to answer all this, and to play with them, if
they would come and sit down on the grass round him; but they had been obliged
to reply that they were not able to sit down; and the little divel had asked why
not; and they had answered politely that they had not the wherewithal; and then
the little divel jumped up from the ground, where he was lying with his legs a-
straddling, and showed them that he could sit down, and had turned heels over
head, and laughed and jumped and made a gibe and a jeer of them, because he
could do things impossible to them, and had also done many other disgusting
tricks before them, which had caused them much offence; and so they were bored
and came back to paradise.
   "They added that, while their consciences were quite devoid of envy of this
wretched little bragger, still they did not desire to mix with that class of
person; and they begged pardon if they had seemed to prefer their own will this
time.
   "And the Padre Eterno smiled, and at that Smile the light of heaven glowed
like a rainbow, and the musick rose in a strain so beautiful that I believe I
shall die when I hear it, and He made the sign of the cross and said: IT IS
WELL, MY CHILDREN, AND GOD BLESS YOU. BENEDICAT VOS OMNIPOTENS DEUS * * * PATER
ET * * * FILIUS ET * * * SPIRITUS SANCTUS."
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XXXIIJ

ABOUT BEATA BEATRICE AND THE MAMMA OF SAMPIETRO

"AH, Don Friderico, don't be angry with me,──oh, don't──because really I do love
her so! What else can I do when she is as pretty as that; and as good, and as
cheerful, and as patient? And when at hestern eve I met her by the boat-house, I
took her into my arms asking her to kiss me; and, sir, she did. Then I told her
that I wished her well, and she said that she also wished me well. Also, I said
that I would marry her; and when I looked into her eyes they were full of tears,
so I know she loves me; but she is ashamed because she is so poor, and her mamma
such a hag. Do I mind her being poor──the little pigeon? Ma che! For when I feel
her soft arms round me and her breath in my hair, and when I kiss her on the
lips and neck and bosom, then I know it is Beatrice, her whiter body and her
whitest soul, that I want──that I will care for, and not her ragged clothes."
   Toto jumped off the tree trunk and stood before me, with all his lithe young
figure tense and strung, as he went on with his declamatory notices.
   "Has not la sua eccellenza often said that I am strong as an ox? Will it not
be my perfect joy to work hard to make my girl happy and rich and grand as the
sun? Do you think that I spend your money at the wine-shop, or the tombola? You
know that I do not so sin. Am I a man? No. Always have I saved. Now I shall save
more; and in a year or two I shall ask your permission to marry her. No, I don't
want to go away, to leave you. May the ten million kakodaimons fly away with me
to the pit of hell and burn me for ever with their hottest fire, if I should
entertain any so base desire. Nor will Beatrice make any difference to la sua
eccellenza; you never need see her, you never need know even that there is such
a flower of paradise blooming near you, if you do not wish to know. And I can
assure you that Beatrice has the greatest respect for you; and if only you will
be so good and so kind as to let us make ourselves happy, she will be quite
proud and glad to serve you as well as I do, and to help me when I serve you
too.──And, sir, you know how fond you are of a fritto? Well, Beatrice can make a
rigaglie of such tastiness, that you will say it must have come straight from
heaven; and this I know because I have tried it myself."
   He flung himself down on the ground. He kissed my hands, and kissed my feet,
and wept, and made me an awful scene.
   I told him to get up and not be a young fool. I said that I did n't care what
he did; and demanded whether I had ever been a brute to him, or denied him
anything that was reasonable.
   He swore that I was without spot or stain of sin, devoid even of a blemish,
that I always had been so, that I always should be so, because I could not help
myself; the decoration of the earth with a such monster<Note> being obviously a
part of the Divine Plan: he wanted to go down on his knees again; but that I
said he would do better to bring the girl to me, and not to make me hotter with
his noise than I was then.
   "To tell you the truth, sir," he replied, with sudden suavity, "I was always
quite sure that you would have pity upon us when you should know how very much
we loved. Therefore when you caught us last night, I told Beatrice that, now, I
must let you know everything; because I was assured that, so long as I did not
deceive you (and you know that I have never done so), there was nothing to fear;
also I told her you would without doubt like to see her, to give her good
counsel, because she was my friend; and she said that she would call that too
much honour. Then, sir, I felt her trembling against my heart, so I kissed her
for a long time, and told her to be brave as I am;──and,──sir,──as you are so
gracious as to want to see her,──I have taken the liberty of bringing her,──and
she is here."
   I always had admired the cleverness of this lad, and felt not much surprise
at his last announcement.
   "Where?" I said.
   "I put her behind that tree, sir," and he pointed to a big oak about twenty
yards away. I could not help laughing at his deepness; and he took courage, I
suppose, from my auspicious aspect. All sorts of clouds of hesitation,
uncertainty, and doubt, moved out of his clear brown eyes, while his face set in
a smile, absurd, and complacently expectant. "Shall I fetch her, sir?"
   I nodded forward. I had had some small experience of his amours before; but
this was a new phase, and I thought I might as well prepare myself for anything.
He went a few paces away, and disappeared behind the oak-tree. There was a
little rustle of the underwood, and some kissing for a minute or two. Then he
came out again, leading his companion by the hand. I said I was preparing for
anything, but I confess to a little gasp at what I saw. It was not a boy and
girl who approached me, but a couple of boys──apparently, at least. They came
and stood beside the hammock in which I was lying. Toto, you know, was sixteen
years old, a splendid, wild (discolo) creature, from the Abruzzi, a figure like
Cellini's Perseus; (don't misunderstand me: I mean the Waxen Model in Palazzo
del Bargello, and not──not the Bronze Abortion of the Loggia dej Lanzi). His
skin was brown, with real red blood under it, smooth as a peach, and his aspect
was as noble as a god. He had a weakness for sticking a dead-white rose in the
black waves of hair over his ear, and the colour of that rose against his
cheeks, flushed as they were now, was something for which to be truly thankful.
I used to make him wear white clothes, on these hot summer days down by the
lake. A silk shirt opened, and the sleeves rolled up, showing his broad brown
chest and supple arms; and short thulakoi of the same, convenient for rowing.
(He had half-a-dozen creatures of his own rank under his command, all chosen for
some singular quality; and it was their business to carry my books,
photographick and bug-hunting apparatus, and to wait upon me while I loafed the
summers away in the Alban hills, or, at later date, along the eastern coast.)
The seeming boy, whom he had called Beatrice, seemed about fourteen years old,
with far more of rarity and dain than even he. The bold, magnificent
independence of his carriage was replaced in her by one of tender delicacy,
quite as striking in its way as the other. She wore her hair in a short silky
cocoon like Toto, and her shirt was buttoned up to the spring of her pretty
throat. She came about as high as her boy's shoulder, and stood before me with
her poor little knees trembling, and a rosy blush ebbing and flowing over her
flower-face. They were so exquisitely lovely, in that sun-flecked shade with the
blue lake for their background, that I could not help keeping them waiting
during some minutes. Such pictures as this are not to be seen every day.
Presently he put his arm round her neck, and she put hers round his waist, and
leaned against him a little. But he never took his eyes off mine.
   "Go on, Toto," I said; "you were about to say──"
   "Ah, well, sir, you see I thought if Beatrice came to live with us──with me,
I mean──it would be more convenient if she looked like the rest of us, because
then she would be able to do things for you as well as we can, and people will
not talk."
   It struck me immediately that Toto was right again, as usual; for, upon my
word, this girl of his would pass anywhere for a very pretty boy, with just the
plump roundness of the Florentine Apollino, and no more.
   "So I got some clean clothes of Guido's, and brought them here early this
morning, and then I fetched Beatrice and put them on her, and made her hide
behind the tree, because I knew that you would pretend to scold me about her
when you should come down to read the papers. Therefore I determined to tell you
everything, and to let you know that the happiness of us both was in your hands.
And I only wanted you to see her like this, in order that you might know that
you cannot be put to any discomfort or inconvenience, if you are so kind as to
allow us to love one another according to the Evangel."
   This looked right enough; but, whether or no, it would have been in execrable
taste to show nasty temper just then, so I told them to be as happy as they
pleased for I would not interfere with them, so long as they did not interfere
with me. They both kissed my hands, and I kissed Beatrice (she was a nosegay) on
the forehead, Toto looking on as proud as a white peacock. And then I told him
to take her away, to send her home properly dressed, to avoid all disguise for
the future, and to return to me in half an hour.
   I could see very well that these happenings were natural enough; and it was
not a part I cared to play, to be harsh or ridiculous, or to spoil an idyll so
full of charm and newness. Besides, I have reason to know,──oh, jolly well, I
have reason to know──the futility of interfering between the male animal and his
mate.
   So when Toto came back I said nothing discouraging or ennuyant, beyond
reminding him that he ought to make quite sure of possessing an enduring love
for this girl,──a love which would make him proud to spend his life with, and
for, her, and her only. I told him he was very young, which was no fault of his,
and that if he would take my advice he would not be in a hurry about anything.
He said that my words were the words of wisdom, and that he would obey me just
as he would Madonna del Portone in her crown of glory if she came down and told
him things then and there; that he had known Beatrice since they were babies
together, and always had loved her far better than he loved his sisters, also,
in an altogether different way,──if I could only understand. Last night, when he
had held her in his arms to tell her that he knew she wished him well, suddenly
he felt himself so strong, and her so tender, and so tempting, that all of a
minute he desired her for his own, and to give somebody a bastonatura of the
very finest for her, above all things to take her out of the clutches of that
dirty mean old witch-cat of a mamma of hers, who never gave her any pleasure,
kept her shut up whenever there was a festa, and, holy gods of paradise!
sometimes beat her, simply because she envied her for being beautiful, and
delicate, and bright, as a young primrose. What it was to be cursed with a hag
of a mamma like that; and what could Madonna be thinking about to give such a
donnicciuola of a mamma to his own bellacuccia! Not but what Madonna was
sometimes inattentive; but then, of course, she had so many people to look
after, or she never would have given to Sampietro such a mamma as she had given.
   Here, seeing a chance of changing the subject, I remarked that it would be
nice to know what sort of a mamma Madonna had given to Sampietro.
   "Well, sir, you must know that the mamma of Sampietro was the meanest woman
that ever lived──scraping and saving all the days of her life, and keeping
Sampietro and his two sisters (the nun and the other one, of whom I will tell
you another time), for days together with nothing to eat except perhaps a few
potato peelings and a cheese rind. As for acts of kindness and charity to her
neighbours, I don't believe she knew the names of the said virtues, though of
course I cannot be certain; and whatever good there was in Sampietro, he must
have picked up elsewhere. As soon as he was old enough to work he became a
fisherman, as you know; because, when Il Santissimo Salvatore wanted a Santo
Padre to govern the Church, He went down to the seaside and chose Sampietro;
knowing that Sampietro, being a fisherman, was just the right man to bear all
kinds of hardships, and to catch people's souls and take them to paradise, just
as he had been used to catch fish and take them to the market. So Sampietro went
to Rome, and He reigned there for many years. And at last the pagans settled
that all the Christians were to be killed. And the Christians thought that,
though they had no objections to being killed in their proper persons, it would
be a pity to waste a good Pope like Sampietro, who had been chosen and given to
them by the Signor Iddio Himself. Therefore they persuaded Sampietro to run away
on a night of the darkest, and to hide Himself for a time in a lonely place
outside the gates of the City. After He had gone on a little way along the Via
Appia──and the night was very dark──He was aware of a grey light on the road in
front of Him, and in the light there was Il Santissimo Himself; whereat
Sampietro was astonished, for La Sua Maestà was walking towards Rome. To whom
Sampietro said: `O Master, where do you go?' Then the face of Il Santissimo
became very sad, and He said: * I am going to Rome to ride the Cross a second
time. And then Sampietro knew it was not a noble thing that He was doing,
running away all on the sly like this; because no shepherd leaves his sheep when
wolves come──at least, no shepherd worth a baiocco. Then Sampietro turned round
and went back to Rome, where He was crucified with much joy midway between the
goals in the Circus of Nero; but He would not let Himself be crucified in the
manner consecrated by Il Santissimo, because He wished to make amends for His
weakness in trying to run away; wherefore He begged and prayed to be crucified
with His head where His feet should be. The pagans said most certainly, if He
preferred it that way, it was all the same to them. And so Sampietro made no
more ado, but simply went straight to heaven. And, of course, when He was
arrived His angel-guardian clothed Him in a new cope and a tiara and handed Him
the Keys; and the Padre Eterno put Him to look after the gate, which is a very
great honour, but only His due, because He had been of such high rank when He
lived in the world.
   "Now after He had been there a little while, His mamma also left the world,
and was not allowed to come into paradise: but because her meanness amounted to
mortal sin she was sent to hell.
   "Sampietro did not like this at all, and when some of the other gods chaffed
Him about it He would grow angry. At last He went to the Padre Eterno, saying
that it was by no means suitable that a man of His quality should be disgraced
in this way; and the Padre Eterno, Who is so good, so full of pity and of mercy
that He would do anything to oblige you if it is for the health of your soul,
said He was sorry for Sampietro, and He quite understood His position. He
graciously suggested that perhaps the case of Sampietro's mamma had been decided
hurriedly, and He ordered her angel-guardian to bring the book in which had been
written down all the deeds of her life, good or bad.
   "* * * `NOW,' said the Padre Eterno, `WE CAREFULLY WILL GO THROUGH THIS BOOK,
AND, IF WE CAN FIND ONLY ONE GOOD DEED THAT SHE HAS DONE, WE WILL ADD TO THAT
ONE GOOD DEED THE MERITS OF OUR SON AND OF HERS, SO THAT SHE MAY BE DELIVERED
FROM ETERNAL TORMENTS.'
   "Then the angel read out of the book; and it was found that, in the whole of
her life, she had only done one good deed; for a poor starving beggar-woman had
once prayed her, per 'l Amor di Dio, to give her some food; and she had thrown
her the green top of an onion which she chanced to be peeling for her own
supper.
   "And the Padre Eterno instructed the angel-guardian of Sampietro's mamma to
take that identical onion-top from the Treasury of Virtuose Deeds, if indeed he
could find so insignificant a thing; and to go and hold it over the pit of hell;
so that if, by chance, she should boil up with the other damned souls to the top
of that stew, then she might grasp the onion-top and by it be dragged up to
Heaven.
   "The angel-guardian did as he had been commanded. He hovered in the air over
the pit of hell. He held out the onion-top with his right hand. The furnace
flamed. The burning souls boiled and writhed like pasta in a copper pot, and
presently Sampietro's mamma came up thrusting out her hands in anguish. And when
she saw the onion-top she gripped it, for she was a very covetous woman; and the
angel-guardian began to soar into the air, carrying her up to Heaven.
   "Now when the other damned souls saw that Sampietro's mamma was leaving them,
they also desired to escape; and, clutching of the skirts of her gown, they hung
thereon, hoping to be delivered from their pain. And still the angel-guardian
rose, and Sampietro's mother held the onion-top, and many tortured souls held
her skirts, and others held the feet and skirts of those, and again others held
the last, and you surely would have thought that hell was about to be emptied
straight away. And still the angel-guardian rose higher, and the long stream of
people all hanging to the onion-top rose too, nor was the onion-top too weak to
bear the strain: so great is the virtue of one good deed,──of but one small good
deed! But when Sampietro's mamma became aware of what was going on, and of what
a perfect godsend she was becoming to the numbers who were escaping from hell
along with her, she was annoyed: and, because she was a nasty selfish and
cantankerous woman, she kicked and struggled, and even took the onion-top in her
teeth, so that she might use her hands to beat off those who were hanging to her
skirts. And she fought so violently that she bit through the onion-top, and
tumbled back once more into hen flame.
   "So you see, sir, that it is sure to be to your own advantage, if you are
kind to other people and let them have their own way, always supposing that they
will not interfere with you."
   I chuckled at Toto's moral reflections.
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XXXIIIJ

ABOUT THE HERESY OF FRA SERAFICO

ONE of Toto's brothers was called Niccolo, and he was going to be a priest. He
was nineteen years old, and very like Toto in appearance, with this notable
difference──that there was no light in his eyes. In manner, he was a curious
gaunt awkward unworldly creature, absolutely the opposite of Toto, who had the
charm and freedom of a young savage whose manners had attained perfection. I
don't know why the clergy (for whom I entertain the highest respect, of course,)
should always slink along by the wall, expressing by the cringing obsequiousness
of their carriage that they would take it as a favour if some one kindly would
kick them; but such is the deplorable case. I used to see this Niccolo sneaking
about the woods during his summer vacation: but I don't think I ever spoke to
him except when he came to say, "How do you do?" and "Good-bye." One morning,
soon after his arrival, I asked Toto what was the matter with his brother; for
he looked even more caged, humpty-backed, and slouching, more utterly miserable
and crushed, than usual. "'Cola, sir," he said, "you must know, has a very
feeling heart; and if he meets with any little misfortune it is a much more
serious thing to him than it would be to me. I, of course, would say that it did
n't matter, and look for something else to amuse me; but 'Cola will think over
his grief till it seems far greater than it really is; and he will not be able
to eat his food or to take any interest in anything; he will wish himself dead;
or that he had never given himself the annoyance of being born. And I suppose,
now, he has had some little trouble in his college──dropped his garter, perhaps,
and let his stocking down, when out with the camerata in the street, and he has
thought about it so much that he at last believes himself to have committed a
sin against the sixth commandment, by an indecent exposure of his person. But,
if I have your leave, I will pierce him with a question, for I can see him
saying his beads behind the Emissario."
   Toto ran away, and I took a little nap.
   When I awakened, he was coming down the steps, shading his head with a
monstrous rhubarb leaf. "I am sure you will be much amused, sir, when I tell you
what is the matter with 'Cola," he said. "I have made him very angry with me,
because I could not help but laugh at him; and he says that I should certainly
burn for making a mock of the clergy──clergy, indeed, and he only a sub-deacon,
and I his brother who know all about him, and everything he ever did! And
Geltruda, too! For my part, I am sure it is a gift straight from Heaven to be
called to the priesthood, because I remember that 'Cola used to be quite as fond
of enjoying himself as I am; but since he first went to the Seminario he will
not look at a petticoat──that is to say, at the face that belongs to it; for it
is only the petticoats he does look at. Have I not seen my little mother cry
when he comes home, because he only puts his lips to her hand──and they do not
touch it──as if she were la Signora Duchessa, instead of the mother who wished
to take him in her arms? Altro! I told him that I would go and choose my
faggots; and I am here to explain his dolour. You must know, sir, that at the
Seminario, you have to preach to the other chierichetti in the refectory, during
supper. This is to give you practice in delivering sermons. And after you have
preached, you go to your place; and, if it be necessary to make any remarks upon
what you have said, the professors will tell you all they think. Well, it was
'Cola's turn to preach the night before he came home, and he says that it was a
sermon which had taken all his life to write. He had learned it by heart; and on
arriving in the pulpit he repeated it, moving his hands and his body in a manner
which he had practised before window-panes and puddles. When he had finished,
the rector paid him compliments, and two or three of the other professors did
the same. But when it came to the turn of the decano, who is the senior student,
he said that the college ought to be very proud of having produced an abbatino
so clever as to be able, in his first sermon, to invent and to proclaim sixteen
new and hitherto unheard-of heresies. And 'Cola, instead of cherishing a fine
rage against this nasty, jealous prig, with his mocking tongue, has taken all
blame to himself and is making himself wretched. I told him that there was no
difficulty about heresies, if that was what he wanted; because I think that to
do wrong is as easy as eating, and that the difficulty is to keep straight. But
he says that he is a miserable sinner, and that it is all his fault, for he
cannot have perfectly corresponded with his vocation, otherwise he would have
been saved this mortification. Why, as for heresy, sir, I can tell you how a
friar in Rome was accused of preaching heresy, and then you will know that it is
not merely the being accused of inventing heresies that makes you guilty of that
same.
   "Well, sir, formerly there lived in Rome a certain friar called Fra Serafico.
When he had lived in the world he was of the Princes of Monte Corvino; but, at
about the age of 'Cola, he astonished everybody by giving up his rank, and his
riches, and his state, to become a Little Brother of the Religion of
Sanfrancesco. Now the fraticelli of his convent were not quite able to
understand why a young man who had his advantages should give them up as he did,
preferring a shaved head and naked feet and to be a beggar. And Fra Serafico,
though he had the best will in the world, did not make a good impression on the
other friars, because his manners were different to theirs. He felt miserable
without a pocket-handkerchief-for-his-nose, for one thing. And it was some time
before the superiors became certain that he had a true vocation; for he went
about his duties with diligence and humility, feeling so shy, because the things
around him were so strange, that he gained for himself, among the other novices,
the frightful nickname of `Dumbtongue.'
   "And this went on until he had finished his probation, and taken the habit
and the vows.
   "One day after that, Fra Guardiano, in order to give him a good humiliation,
told him to prepare to preach a sermon before the convent at the chapter that
afternoon. Fra Serafico received this command in silence, and, having kissed the
ground before Fra Guardiano, he went away to his cell to study, and when the
afternoon came he stood up to preach.
   "Then, sir, a very curious thing happened; for Fra Serafico preached, and,
while he preached, the faces of the other friars became set in a glare of
astonishment, and the eyes of Fra Guardiano were almost starting out of his head
by the time the sermon was finished. Then there was silence for a little while,
and the friars looked one at another, and nodded forward. It seemed that they
had been entertaining an angel unawares, for this Dumbtongue, as they called
him, had turned out to be a perfect Golden-mouth. And the friars were more than
glad; for, though they were all good men and very holy, yet they had no great
preacher among them at that time, and they thought it was a shame that a
Religion, whose business was to preach, should have no man who could preach
well, and at last they saw a way out of the difficulty: `For surely,' they said,
`this Serafico speaks the words of Sampaolo himself, with the tongue of an
angel.' After this he gave fervorini daily in the convent church, till all the
city was filled with his fame, and at last he was named by Papa Ottoboni to
preach the Lent in the Church of Sancarlo al Corso.
   "Of course you know very well, sir, that Sathanas is disgusted to see the
works of God going on alway as easily as water runs out of a turned-on tap; and
you know also that when a good work seems to be thriving at its best, then is
the time the said Sathanas will choose to try that he may upset it. And so he
went to a little Jesuit called Padre Tonto Pappagallo──and, of course, I do not
need to tell you that the Jesuits are not what you might call friendly to the
Franciscans──and he suggested to him the evil thoughts, that it was bad for the
Jesuits to be beaten in preaching by the Franciscans, and what a score it would
be if a Jesuit were to have the honour of catching Fra Serafico in the act of
preaching heresy. Padre Tonto, it happened, had made a bad meditation that
morning, having allowed his eyes to fix themselves upon some of the alabaster
angels who were dangling their beautiful white legs over the arches around the
apsis, and his thoughts to wander from his meditation to those things from which
every good priest flies with as much haste as he would fly from the foul fiend
appearing in person. And so his mind was just like a fertile field; and, when
Sathanas popped in his suggestion, the seed immediately took root, and before
the morning was over it had burst into blossom; for this Padre Tonto skipped off
to the Church of Sancarlo to hear the great preacher; and when he saw the vast
multitude all so intent upon those golden words that, if an earthquake had
happened then and there, I believe no one would have even blinked; and when he
heard the sighs from the breasts of wicked men; and when he saw the tears rain
down on women's cheeks; then he envied Fra Serafico the power to do these
things: and so he began to listen to the sermon, that he might catch the
preacher preaching heresy. Of course, while he was staring about, he had not
paid attention to the words of gold, and the first sentence that caught his ear
when he did begin, indeed, to listen was this, No one shall be crowned unless he
has contended lawfully.
   "Padre Tonto jumped for joy, and ran out of the church. He was good friends
with everybody, for he had heard a heresy straight away. `No one shall be
crowned,' he said, `that is, of course, with the crown of glory which the gods
in paradise wear for ever──unless he has contended lawfully──that is to say, as
the martyrs did in Colosseo. Pr-r-r-r-r-r, my dear Serafico! And what, then,
becomes of all the holy bishops and confessors, and of the virgins and penitents
and widows whom Holy Church has numbered with the saints? These were not
martyrs, nor did they fight with beasts, like Sampaolo' (and I cannot tell you
the place, sir). `If I were Papa Ottoboni, Seraficone mio, I should burn your
body on Campo di Fiore to-morrow morning, and your damned soul in hell for ever
and the day after.' And saying these words and all sorts of others like them, he
ran off to the Sant' Uffizio and made a mischief with much diligence.
   "Now Padre Tonto had a very good reputation among superiors, and ladies, and
was exceedingly well thought-of in Rome. Moreover, the accusation which he made
appeared to be well founded. So Fra Serafico was summoned, and this question was
put to him,──`Did you, or did you not, in your sermon preached in the Church of
Sancarlo al Corso, on the first Monday in Lent, say, No one shall be crowned
unless he has contended lawfully?' And Fra Serafico replied that his questioner,
who was the Grand Inquisitor himself, spoke like a book with large letters and
clasps of silver, for without a doubt he had used those very words. The Grand
Inquisitor remarked that confession of wrong done was always good for the soul;
and he pointed out to Fra Serafico the dreadful heresy of which he had been
guilty in uttering words meaning, if they meant anything at all, That it was
impossible to get to Heaven unless you suffered martyrdom. Then he told Fra
Serafico, that as he had made his heresy publick by preaching it to all Rome, it
would be necessary to make amends also in the place of his crime, or else to let
himself be burnt with fire on Campo di Fiore at the next public holiday, both to
atone for the sin, and in order to encourage other people who might feel it
their business to imitate him by preaching such atrocious and soul-slaughtering
heresy. And Fra Serafico answered that he hoped to live and die a good and
obedient son of Holy Mother Church, and to submit his judgment to hers in all
things reasonable, except his order; therefore, it would give him much joy to
make public amends for his heresy at any time or place which his eminence, in
his wisdom, might be pleased to appoint.
   "The next day the people of Rome were called by proclamation to the Church of
Sancarlo al Corso to see Fra Serafico's humiliation; and because he was such a
celebrated man there came together all the noblest and most distinguished
persons in the city. Papa Ottoboni sat upon the throne with the Princes Colonna
and Orsini on His right hand and on His left. All around there were fifty
scarlet cardinals, bishops by the score in purple and green, friars grey, friars
white, friars black, monks by the hundred, and princes and plain people like
raindrops. When all had taken their places, Fra Serafico was entered, between
two officers of the Sant' Uffizio having their faces covered in the usual
manner; and first he prostrated himself before La Sua Maestà in the tabernacle,
and then at the feet of Papa Ottoboni, then he bowed from the waist to the
Sacred Conlege and to the prelates, and from the shoulders to the rest; and last
of all he was led into the pulpit from which he had proclaimed his heresy. There
he began to speak, using these words: `Most Holy Father, most eminent and most
reverend lords, my reverend brethren, most illustrious princes, my dear children
in Jhesus Christ. I am brought here to-day on account of preaching a vile and
deadly heresy, in this pulpit on the first Monday in Lent. That heresy is
contained in the following words: No one shall be crowned unless he has
contended lawfully. I freely confess, acknowledge, and say, that I did, in real
truth, use those words. But before I proceed to abjure the heresy contained
therein, and to express with tears my penitence for my hideous crime, I crave,
my beloved children in Jhesus Christ, most illustrious princes, my reverend
brethren, most eminent and most reverend lords, and, prostrate at Your feet,
Most Holy Father, indulgence for a few moments while I relate a dream and a
vision which came to me during the night just past, which I spent for the good
of my soul upon the tender bosom of the Sant' Uffizio.' Fra Serafico's face, as
he spoke, beamed with a beauty so unearthly, his manner was so gracious, and the
musick of his golden voice so entrancing, that Papa Ottoboni, making the * signs
of * the cross * granted him the favour which he asked.
   "The friar continued: `In my dream it appeared to me that I was standing
before the bar of the Eternal Judge; and that there I was accused by a certain
Jesuit called Padre Tonto Pappagallo of preaching heresy, on the first Monday in
Lent, in the Church of Sancarlo al Corso, using these words: No one shall be
crowned unless he has contended lawfully. And while I waited there, Beato Fra
Francesco himself came and stood beside me. And the Judge of all men looked upon
me with wrath and anger, asking whether I confessed my crime; and I, wretched
man that I am, in the presence of Him Who knows all things, even the inmost
secrets of the heart, could do nothing else but acknowledge that it was even so.
Then the Padre Eterno, Who, though terrible beyond all one can conceive to evil-
doers, is of a justice so clear, so fine, so straight, that the crystal of earth
becomes as dull as mud, the keenness of a diamond as blunt granite, and the
shortest distance from here to there as crooked as the curves in a serpent's
tail──this just Judge, I say, asked me, who am but a worm of the earth, whether
I had anything to allege in excuse for my crime.
   "`And I, covered with confusion as with a garment, because of my many sins,
replied, O Clementissimo Signor Iddio, I have confessed my crime; and in
palliation I can only say that, when I was preparing my sermon, I took those
words from the writings of Sangregoriomagno.
   "`The judge of all men ordered my angel-guardian to write that down, and
deigned to ask whether I could say in what part of the writings of
Sangregoriomagno this heresy would be found. O Padre Celeste Iddio, I replied,
the heresy will be found in the 37th Homily of Sangregoriomagno on the 14th
chapter of the Gospel of Sanluca Evangelista. Then I covered my face with my
hands and waited for my dreadful sentence: but Beato Fra Francesco comforted me,
and patted my shoulder with his hand, all shining with the sacred stigmata; and
the Padre Eterno, speaking in a mild voice to the Court of Heaven, said, * * *
DEAR CHILDREN, THIS LITTLE BROTHER HAS BEEN ACCUSED OF PREACHING A HERESY, AND
HIS HERESY IS SAID TO HAVE BEEN TAKEN FROM THE WRITINGS OF SANGREGORIO, DETTO
MAGNO. IN THIS CASE, YOU WILL PERCEIVE THAT IT IS NOT OUR LITTLE BROTHER WHO IS
A HERETIC, BUT SANGREGORIO, DETTO MAGNO, WHO WILL THEREFORE HAVE THE GOODNESS TO
PLACE HIMSELF AT THE BAR; FOR WE ARE DETERMINED TO SEARCH THIS MATTER TO ITS
REMOTEST END. * * * Then Sangregorio, detto Magno, was led by his angel-guardian
from his throne among the Doctors of the Church; and he came down to the bar and
stood beside me and Beato Fra Francesco, who whispered in my ear, Cheer up,
Little Brother, and hope for the best! And the Padre Eterno said, * * *
SANGREGORIO (all short), THIS LITTLE BROTHER HAS BEEN ACCUSED BEFORE US, THAT ON
THE FIRST MONDAY IN LENT, IN THE CHURCH OF SANCARLO AL CORSO, HE PREACHED HERESY
IN THE FOLLOWING WORDS:──No one shall be crowned unless he has contended
lawfully. WE HAVE EXAMINED HIM, AND HE ALLEGES THAT HE TOOK THOSE WORDS FROM THE
37TH HOMILY, WHICH YOU HAVE WRITTEN UPON THE 14TH CHAPTER OF THE GOSPEL OF
SANLUCA EVANGELISTA. WE DEMAND, THEREFORE, THAT YOU SHOULD SAY, FIRST, WHETHER
YOU ACKNOWLEDGE YOURSELF TO HAVE WRITTEN THESE WORDS; AND, SECONDLY, IF YOU HAVE
DONE SO, WHAT EXCUSE YOU HAVE TO OFFER? * * * Sangregoriomagno opened the book
of his writings which, of course, he always carries with him; and he turned the
pages with an anxious finger.
   "`Presently he looked up with a smile into the Face of God and said, O Dio,
Padre delle misericordie, our Little Brother has spoken the truth, for I have
found the passage, and when I shall have read it also, You will find the answer
to both questions which Your Condescension has put me. So Sangregoriomagno read
from his writings these words, But we cannot arrive at the great reward unless
through great labours: wherefore, that most excellent Preacher, Sampaolo, says,
No one shall be crowned unless he has contended lawfully. The greatness of
rewards, therefore, may delight the mind, but does not take away the obligation
of fighting for it first.
   "`HM-M-M-M, said the Padre Eterno, THIS BEGINS TO GROW INTERESTING; FOR IT
SEEMS, DEAR CHILDREN, * * * THAT OUR LITTLE BROTHER HERE HAS QUOTED HIS HERESY
FROM SANGREGORIO, DETTO MAGNO, AND THAT SANGREGORIO, DETTO MAGNO, IN HIS TURN
QUOTED IT FROM SAMPAOLO, UPON WHOM, THEREFORE, THE RESPONSIBILITY SEEMS TO REST.
* * * CALL SAMPAOLO.
   "`So the seven angels blew into their trumpets and summoned Sampaolo, who
just then chanced to be attending a meeting of the Apostolic College; and when
he came into court his angel-guardian led him to the bar, where he took his
place by the side of Sangregoriomagno'──(the god who made Christians of the
English, sir, and the chaunt, sir, and saw San Michele Arcangiolo on the top of
the Mola),──`by the side of Beato Fra Francesco, and of my wretched self.
   "`* * * NOW, SAMPAOLO, said the Padre Eterno, WE HAVE HERE A LITTLE GREY
FRIAR WHO HAS BEEN ACCUSED OF PREACHING HERESY ON THE FIRST MONDAY IN LENT, IN
THE CHURCH OF SANCARLO AL CORSO, IN THESE WORDS, No one shall be crowned unless
he has contended lawfully. AND HE INFORMS US THAT HE HAS QUOTED THESE WORDS FROM
SANGREGORIO, DETTO MAGNO'S 37TH HOMILY ON THE 14TH CHAPTER OF THE GOSPEL OF
SANLUCA EVANGELISTA. WE HAVE EXAMINED SANGREGORIO, DETTO MAGNO, WHO HAS POINTED
OUT TO US THAT HE DID INDEED USE THESE WORDS, AS OUR LITTLE BROTHER HAS SAID:
BUT HE ALSO ALLEGES THAT THEY ARE NOT HIS OWN WORDS, BUT YOURS. THE COURT,
THEREFORE, WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHETHER YOU ADMIT HIS STATEMENT TO BE TRUE.
   "`* * * Then Sampaolo's angel-guardian handed to him the book containing all
the letters which he had written; and after he had refreshed his memory with a
glance at this, the great apostle replied, O Principio di ogni cosa, there is no
doubt that both this Little Brother and Sangregoriomagno are right, for I find
in my second letter to Santimoteo, chapter ii. verse 5, the following words:
──And if a man also strive for masteries, yet is he not crowned except he
contend lawfully.
   "`* * * WELL! the Padre Eterno said; THIS IS A VERY SHOCKING STATE OF THINGS,
THAT YOU, SAMPAOLO, SHOULD PUBLISH HERESIES IN THIS MANNER, AND LEAD MEN OF ALL
AGES INTO ERROR! SANGREGORIO, DETTO MAGNO, TAKING THE STATEMENT ON YOUR
AUTHORITY, PREACHES HERESY IN HIS TIME; AND, A THOUSAND YEARS LATER, OUR LITTLE
BROTHER, INNOCENTLY THINKING GODS OF SUCH EMINENCE AS THE APOSTLE OF THE
GENTILES AND THE APOSTLE OF THE ENGLISH TO BE GOOD AUTHORITIES, HAS PREACHED THE
SAME HERESY. YOU SEE, NOW, THAT IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO KNOW WHAT THE END OF A LIE
WILL BE, WHEN ONCE IT HAS BEEN STARTED ON ITS COURSE.
   "`"But hear me," Sampaolo said,' (he was a very bold man, sir), `"for I
venture to submit to La Sua Maestà that the second letter which I wrote to
Santimoteo has been placed by Your Church on earth on the list of the Canonical
Books; which signifies that, when I wrote that letter I was inspired by the
Third Person of the Maesta C*terna dell' Adorabile Trinita, and that therefore I
was divinely protected from teaching error in any shape or form!"
   "`OF COURSE IT DOES, the Padre Eterno replied. THE WORDS WHICH YOU HAVE
WRITTEN, SAMPAOLO, IN YOUR SECOND LETTER TO SANTIMOTEO, ARE NOT THE WORDS OF A
MAN, BUT THE WORDS OF GOD HIMSELF; AND THE MATTER AMOUNTS TO THIS, THAT OUR
LITTLE BROTHER HERE, WHO TOOK THE WORDS FROM SANGREGORIO, DETTO MAGNO, WHO TOOK
THEM FROM YOU, WHO WERE DIVINELY INSPIRED TO WRITE THEM, HAS NOT BEEN GUILTY OF
HERESY AT ALL, UNLESS GOD HIMSELF CAN ERR. AND WHO, the Padre Eterno continued
with indignation, WE SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW,──WHO IS THE RUFFIAN WHO HAS TAKEN UP
OUR TIME WITH THIS RIDICULOUS AND BASELESS CHARGE AGAINST OUR LITTLE BROTHER?
   "`Somebody said that it was a Jesuit called Padre Tonto Pappagallo, at which
the Padre Eterno sniffed and said, A JESUIT! AND WHAT, IN THE NAME OF GOODNESS,
IS THAT?
   "`Madonna whispered that it was a son of Santignazio of Loyola.
   "`WHERE IS SANTIGNAZIO OF LOYOLA? said the Padre Eterno.
   "`Now Santignazio, who had seen the way things were going, and what a
contemptible spectacle his son was presenting, had hidden himself behind a bush
and was pretending to say his office very diligently indeed. But he was soon
found, and brought into Court; and the Padre Eterno asked him what he meant by
allowing his spiritual children to act in this way. But Santignazio only groaned
and said, "O Potenza Infinita, all my life long I tried to teach them to mind
their own business, but in fact I have altogether failed to make them listen to
me."
   "`That was my dream, Most Holy Father, most eminent and most reverend lords,
my reverend brethren, most illustrious princes, my beloved children in Jhesus
Christ; and, since you have been so gracious as to listen, I will now proceed to
a formal recantation of the vile and deadly heresy which I am accused of having
preached, on the first Monday in Lent, in this Church of Sancarlo al Corso.'
   "But Papa Ottoboni arose from His throne, and the cardinals, and bishops, and
the princes, and the people, and they all cried in a loud voice, `Evviva,
evviva, Bocca d'Oro, evviva, evviva.'"
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

XXXV

ABOUT ONE WAY IN WHICH CHRISTIANS LOVE ONE ANOTHER

"YES," I said, "that's a very good story, Toto. And now I want to know where you
learned it."
   "Well, sir," he replied, "that history was told to me by Fra Leone of the
Cappuccini. Not that I wish you to think the Cappuccini and Franciscans to be
the same,──oh, not at all. But, of course, you know better than that; and it is
like their impertinence of bronze to pretend that they are; as they do; for the
Cappuccini were not heard of even for hundreds of years after Sanfrancesco had
founded his Religion. And the reason why they came to be made, was simply on
account of the vain man Matteo Something-or-other-of-Low, who gave more thought
to his clothes than to the good of his soul, considering that the sleeves which
were good enough for Sanfrancesco, and the round tippet which that most sweet
god wore, did not suit his style of beauty; wherefore he made himself a brown
habit instead of a grey one, with plain sleeves to show the shape of his arms,
and no pockets in them, and a tippet not round, but pointed like the piece of
flesh which there is between my shoulders. And then, because there are always
plenty of men ready to run after something new, he got together so many
followers wishing to dress themselves like him, that Papa de' Medicj preferred
to give them permission to have their own way, rather than cause them to become
rebels against our Holy Mother the Church, by making it difficult for them to be
obedient. You see the matter had really no importance which was worth a schism."
   I said that I knew all about that, but that I did n't believe that religious
men, whether they were Franciscans, or sham ones like the Cappuccini, or even
Jesuits, would show such jealousy and envy one of another as appeared in the
story of Fra Serafico.
   "And there," said Toto, "I can assure you that you are exactly wrong. I may
tell you that in every Religion there are two kinds of men──the saints and
sinners. Of course, the saints always love one another as did Francesco and
Domenico; and, by contrary, having submitted themselves to the infernal dragon
who always drives all love out of the hearts of his slaves inflaming them with
the undying fire of envy, the sinners hate one another with a hatred like the
venom of vipers, and continually occupy themselves with all kinds of schemes by
which they may bring discredit upon their enemies, the sinners of the other
Religions. Why, I can tell you a tale which is quite true, because I have seen
it, of how some Cappuccini──and you will not ask me to say where their convent
is──have done a deed by which much shame will be brought, some day, upon a house
of Jesuits who live in their neighbourhood.
   "Well then,──there was a convent of Cappuccini; and, outside the grounds of
the convent, there was a small house, in which I lived with my father and my
mother and my brothers and sisters; and it was a very lonely place. And about as
far off as it would take you to say five Paters, and five Aves, and five
Glorias, there was another house; and there were perhaps three or four cottages
in sight; and that is all: so it was a very lonely place. But six miles away
there was a large college of Jesuits, up in the hills; and, when a Jesuit died,
it was the custom to bury him in the churchyard of these Cappuccini.
   "There was a man who came to live in the other house, and he was not an old
man, nor a young man, but just between the two; and, because he felt lonely, he
used to pay attentions to all the ladies who came in his way when visiting this
celebrated convent of Cappuccini; and our difficulty was to know which one he
was going to marry. And there was one in particular who appeared to these
Cappuccini to be the one which he ought to marry; but her home was far away in a
large town. So one of the friars wrote to her parish priest to ask him what
ought to be done; and the parish priest replied; `Yes, you must get her married
as soon as possible;' and, soon after that, the respectable man married her and
brought her to the house in the lonely place of which I speak. They lived there
very quietly for a little while; and then his business called the respectable
man away from his house for a few weeks. So he went; and his wife remained at
home: and there was no one in the house with her but a woman, her servant.
   "And presently, in the middle of a night, there came a knocking at the door
of the small house where I was living with my father and mother and my brothers
and my sisters, and I heard this knocking. For that night I was going to enjoy
myself in the orchard of the Cappuccini. So I came downstairs in my shirt alone;
and because I wished to keep secret what I was going to do, I left the said
shirt, rolled up in a bundle, under the seat in the porch; and I will tell you
why: I thought of two things; the first thing was, that it was a very rainy
night, and if my mother in the morning found my shirt wet, she would guess I had
been up to mischief, and, having told my father, I should have solely stick for
breakfast; and the second thing was, that if some Cappuccino should be persuaded
by an uneasy divel to look out of his window to see a naked boy capering about
in the orchard, or in the churchyard, he would say to himself that it was just a
poor soul escaping from purgatory; and then, having repeated a De Profundis, he
would go back to his bed. So just when I was creeping across the yard, with the
warm rain pouring in torrents over the flesh of me, there came this banging on
the door of my house; and I skipped behind a tree, and waited. Then my father
opened the window of his room upstairs, demanding what was the matter; and the
voice of the servant of the respectable man, replied that la Signora Pucci had
been taken very ill of a sudden, and that if my mother was a Christian woman she
would come to her assistance. This servant spoke with a very thick voice; and as
I did not think I should be amused by staying behind my tree, I ran away, and
presently enjoyed myself enough with the peaches belonging to the said
Cappuccini. When I came home, I dried myself with a cloth, took my shirt from
under the seat in the porch, and went to bed again.
   "In the morning when I awoke, there, was no one to give us our breakfast; for
my father was gone to his work, and my mother to the assistance of the wife of
the respectable man; so I was thankful enough that I had made so many good meals
during the night.
   "All that day, and all the next night, and all the day after that, was my
mother away from her home; and I need not tell you that I began to think that
something very strange was happening, of which I ought to know; so I waited
here, and I waited there, and I put a question of one kind to this, and a
question of another kind to that; and during the night, after my father had seen
me go to bed, I rose, and left my shirt in the porch as before, not because it
was raining now, but because I liked it, as well as for the second reason; and I
wandered about quite naked and happy and free"──(here he tossed his arms, and
threw up his legs, and wriggled all over in an indescribable manner),──"dodging
behind trees and bushes, from my father's house to the house of the respectable
man, and to the churchyard of the said convent of Cappuccini; and, during that
night, I saw many curious things; which, with the answers given to the questions
that I had been asking, and other odds and ends, which, either I knew, or which
I had seen with my eyes, made me able to know exactly what this mystery was.
   "Now I ought to have told you this:──that a week before, a priest of the
Jesuit College, of which I have already spoken, had been buried in the convent
churchyard; also that he was confessor of the wife of the respectable man, and a
priest whom she held in the very greatest honour, and he was called Padre
Guilhelmo Siretto. He was a very holy man indeed, whom everybody venerated; for
the Signor Iddio had made him live sixty-seven long years in order that he might
add to the many good deeds which in his long life he had done. I should like you
to try to remember this, because now I must go to another part of the story.
   "After the servant of the respectable man had told my father that her
mistress was ill, my mother rose from her bed and went, at once, to the house of
the sick person. Arrived there, she found la Signora Pucci fallen upon the floor
in greatest pain; and, being a woman herself, she knew, with a single stroke of
her eye, what was the matter.
   "Now the servant of the respectable man, who had accompanied my mother, was a
tipsy wench, and useless. Therefore my mother, who is the best of all women
living, (perhaps equal to Beatrice), made la Signora Pucci as comfortable as
possible at that time; went into the stable; put a horse into the cart; and,
having driven for three miles to the nearest town, brought back a doctor with
her as the day was breaking.
   "The sick woman was put to bed, and the doctor gave my mother directions as
to what was to be done during his absence; for he said he must go home now to
finish his night's rest, and in the morning he had his patients to see; but, in
the afternoon he would come again; and then, perhaps, something would happen.
But my mother told him that on no account would she consent to be left alone in
the house with la Signora Pucci, because she perceived that something most
astonishing was to happen. The doctor replied that he would not stay, because he
could not; and, that, if my mother was not there to assist the sick woman in her
trouble, she might die. But my mother would by no means be persuaded, and in the
end she conquered; and the doctor stayed, and they waited all through the night,
and the next morning before noon there came a new baby into that house; and la
Signora Pucci was so astonished that she really nearly died; and as for the
baby, he did die, after a half-hour of this world.
   "Then the sick woman became mad; and cried in delirium that she would not
have it known to the respectable man, her husband, that a new baby had come into
that house; so my mother went for the Fra Guardiano of these Cappuccini, telling
him all that she knew, how she herself had baptised the baby, by the name
Angelo, seeing him to be in the article of death, and that, therefore, he must
be buried in the churchyard; also how that his mother, la Signora Pucci,
demanded to have this done secretly, and that the grave should be made with
Padre Guilhelmo, of whom I have just spoken, who was a holy man with whom any
person might be glad to be buried. Upon this Fra Guardiano replied that it would
be as easy as eating; and he directed my mother, having put the dead baby into a
box, to take the said box under her cloak, at midnight, to the grave of Padre
Guilhelmo.
   "So she did as she was told, putting the dead baby Angelo into a wooden box
in which rice had been, and cutting a cross upon the lid so that San Michele
Arcangiolo should know there was a Christian inside; and at midnight she was
there, at the grave of Padre Guilhelmo. And, of course, I need not tell you that
there was a naked boy hidden in a cedar-tree, over her head, lying flat with his
breast upon a thick branch which he held between his thighs and with his arms,
and looking right down upon the grave. Then there came out of the convent Fra
Giovannone, Fra Lorenzo, Fra Sebastiano, and Fra Guilhelmo: and if I had not
remembered that a naked boy in a cedar-tree was not one of the things which you
are unable to do without at a midnight funeral, I should have laughed; because
these friars, coming out of their convent without candles, fell over the crosses
on the graves, and said words which friars do not say in their offices. They
brought two spades and a bucket of holy water; and, when they came to the grave
of the Jesuit Padre, Fra Sebastiano and Fra Guilhelmo dug about two cubits of a
hole there; then my mother gave them the box from underneath her cloak, and they
put it in the earth; and having sprinkled it with holy water, they covered it
up, made the grave look as it had looked before, as best they could in that dim
light, and then returned to their convent, all the time saying no word aloud.
   "Then my mother went back to the house of la Signora Pucci, and a boy without
clothes followed her there. For one hour after, I ran backwards and forwards,
secretly, between the convent and the house of the respectable man; but, finding
that nothing happened, I went to my bed.
   "About the Ave Maria of the day after this, my mother returned to her house,
saying that the doctor had brought a nurse to la Signora Pucci, and that the
respectable man her husband also was coming back, so there was nothing more for
her to do. Then she swooned with weariness, for she was tired──but, tired; but
after resting two days while I, and my sisters, and my brothers, kept the house
clean and tidy, she recovered.
   "And that is all the tale, sir.
   "Now I think you will understand that these Cappuccini, unless indeed they
are entirely fools of the most stupid (and that they may be), have been urged on
by envy of the Jesuit fathers to lay the beginnings of a plot which, some day,
will cause a great scandal. You must see that they could not help the coming of
the new baby, Angelo, to the house of the respectable man; and it is not for
that that I blame them. You must see that when the new baby, Angelo, was come,
and had died a good Christian, there was nothing else for them to do but to bury
him in their churchyard, and secretly, to defend la Signora Pucci from shame;
and after all, you must see that there are paces upon paces upon paces of ground
in that churchyard, where this dead Christian baby, Angelo, could have been
buried by himself, secretly; and that it is purely abominable to have put him
into the grave of a Jesuit, which, being opened, as it may at any time──God
knows when, or why, but it is quite likely──will bring a great dishonour, and a
foul blot, upon the sons of Santignazio of Loyola."
   I said that I saw.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

From London, in my study, on the Eve of Saint George the Martyr, Protector of
the Kingdom, MDCCCC.

        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        

                 "Improbe facit, qui,
                  in alieno libro,
                  ingeniosus est."
                                  MART.

                                  ────oOo────
