Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

Ifi
.
Bomb' had admired that very day on the noble
Ucr of the faithful, and which
luul made such a profound and last ii on his miml.
i uiiK man was rot slow to perceive that he himself was
cm board thin majes'ic vessel, sheltered from all danger, in company
with some friends and bin beloved mother. But, oh ter-
ror ! in a glance of horror and pity on that tumultuous
;
efaaos, on those foaming \\aves, ho sees, faint, inanimate nd
halt' swallowed down, ft Cswta-way whom the angry
'i
waves at
ouetii on their crests at another clasp in their siuuous
coils iiiul suck down into their whirlpools, while around
him the monsters of the abyss grind their .sharp teeth, their
gnashing jaws, and icake citemeut, giving himself a thump
ready to devour liim.
iu the head,
'
O p wers, O decrees of heaven ! That miserable wretch is his
father !
The courageous Victor has uttered a cry of anguish, and
already he has launched plunged in the midst of the waves,
iriig les with all the strength of despair agains', the
waves, the winds, and the sea monsters. The screaming birds
of prey wheel before his eyes and over his head, the monsters
of the deep set upon him furiously, rending and bearing away
strips of flesh from his body; still he struggles on. A few more
struggles, another effort, and he will have saved his father. . .
Alas ! a gigantic wave, breaking over him, flings him back.
His strength fails him; an icy shudder shakes his exhausted
limbs; already the cold hand of death seems to clasp him and
drag him down into the . . abyss. He has resolved, how-
forward ! forward ! At
ever, to conquer or to die. Courage,
last at last he has rejoined, he has seiznd his father! But
the unfortunate old man struggles against him, writhes convulsively,
and seems to want to draw him with him into tho
depths of the gulf. Victor, poor Victor, shall yon then Le
vanquished in that supreme combat of devotion and love? No,
the heroic child has cast a prayerful glance towards the noble
vessel; he sees his weeping mother pointing to heaven with a
radiant countenance, and the divine pilot turns towards him
and smiles. Then he utters a cry, murmurs a prayer, and imploring
heaven's succor, makes a last effort. . . At last ho
has succeeded in rinsing the old man in his arms and drawing
him out of the reach of tho hungry monsters seeking to tear
the vessel he has
him to pi9ces. . . He has regained
placed the poor castaway in the arms of his joyful, weeping
moth'-r and falls fainting, exhausted, dying at the feet of tke
divine pilot, who, at that moment, gives him his last blessing.
The hand of death is on him, but his father is saved !
And then, as dusky vapors mingle with tho splendor of a
golden .sky, the mournful images of the dream vanished in the
midst of a calm p. But was it indeed Victor, but a
vain dream, a fleeting vision, that at that hour eould thus disturb
yon?
CHAPTER VII.
THE CAItBONABO.
One fine Rummer evening, several young girls of the Traste-
vere had come to draw water from the fountain Paulina, called by
the Romans Fontana di Sun Pietro iu Montorio. Laughing, gossiping
an; i r-portiug together,they did not seem in the least Lurry
to finish their task and go home. One of them was remarkable
for her regular and energetic features and lurge dark brown
'iied to indicate rare and firm courage; she
looked as it' she had not counted more than fifteen summers,
and her companions called her Nunziata.
But the eldest of the young girls were chiefly occupied in
telling the news of the day, and babbled joyously, like so many
swallows."
" Do you know what has happened to that brave Pietro
Marini?" said Giannina, the gravest.
" No, indei d. Tell us, Nil:
" You know him we 1- that worthy, h.
. plied. "Well, suddenly,
to lose his I
n few tie had tho misfoviur,"
it was im,> [ him t.> uo hi:
1
'
ness without the help of that, poor bea.-t.
"Oh !
yes, yes, Pietro Mariui, I r him well," here
cried Carlotta, one of the youngest little girls of the gmnp.
'He's a poor man wlu soils sand, and brings it in on old
cart,"
"That's him, just," said Nina; "but before calling him
'poor,' wait for the end of the tw ry. I'i.-tro, as J've t Id you,
was, us well i.s his wife, plunged in profound grief on
thai loss, when all at once, starting up joyfully, and, in i
lie svi.l 1
Maddalena, I was a fool to annoy myself so.' A:i i
garded him with satisfaction :
'
'
Don't you know, and didn't I
but a fool,' he pursued.
Yr.s, it's just :