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

to explain to you I
tho reasons that deoidei me in not. keeping
my sou at home. It was" she continued, in a slow, :
tone, " because I'm not it mother only ; I'm a Christian, too.
And I can't forgot I was a Christian even before I was a moth-
er. And when, not only the Father of all Christians,
lil.f: \.\t /,'//
linf the.
religion of Christians, too, is so seriously threatened, could 1
have the heart to bo wanting in every duty, in keeping my
sou alongside me in the hour of danger, depriving our Holy
Father of a devoted defender ? And if I were so weak, selfish,
by depriving me of my son even if he were at my
the other hand, can't God reward my devotion, by guiding
and protecting my child, and preserving him safe and sound,
even in the thick of the fight, under fire of balls ;md bullets?''
M. Morren turned round greatly astonished at old Teresa's
words ; he had never heard her express herself with such
force, nobility, and eloquence. As to Ernest Van Dormael,
his lips essayed a contemptuous, mocking smile.
" God ! again always God," ho murmured.
" God ! It's
the only word by which you explain yourself. But where is
your God ? Have you ever seen him ?"
"
Can't we believe, then, in the existence of things unless
we see them, sir ?" she replied.
" I never had the pleasure of seeing you until to-day, and
yet didn't you exist ? Surely it is impossible for us to see God,
and yet everything around us affirms His existence."
" Come along, Morren," interrupted Ernest, at once con-
founded and irritated by the logical appositeness of the old
woman's
"
repartees. What's the use of losing our time here,
disputing with that old fool ? There is no God that'j all
about it. Let us resume our walk.''
"
No, sir,
it's not all," pursued Teresa earnestly, raising
her voice so as to make herself heard by the two men, who
were "
walking away. Take care the hour doesn't come
when you'll wish with all your heart to be able to believe in
the existence, the providence of God. But will that last grace
be given you ? I hope so, sir, but I don't believe it. "
Ernest walked rapidly away, raising his shoulders and biting
his lips. It was already the second time a direct and menacing
allusion recalled to his remembrance the dark, fatal
hour of death, and seemed to forebode only anguish and des-
pair at the deceive moment of that fatal passage.
Nevertheless, a still more painful misadventure was reserved
for him on that 3ay, A* messenger from the Schrambeck
villa soon overtook them, running in all haste, and begging
M. Morren to return to the house, where a pressing affair
awaited him. The free-thin leer was then obliged to postpone
to a more favorable moment the conversation he calculated oil
having with his indulgent friend ; but he still continued his
wa!k around the ruins of the old castle, and, having found one
Had lie already I'liund his tomb suddenly opening
<
his feet y That solemn hour of which he had bten just re-
.1 was it already come ? These gloomy thoughts disturbed
the soul of tins poor wretch, who, losing at that moill
his presence of mind, forgot that his friend, M. Morren.
not seeing him returning, would immediately institute an
ncli\e search. In I] ; s terror he saw nothing before him but
and cowardly, couldn't God punish me for my indifference
abandonment, oblivion, despair,
side V On
and death. JJropH of cold
Kweat rolled down his livid face as ho strode round his dingy
cell, making the dark arches rewound with the echo of lug
broken voice. Suddenly he thought ho hfard a slight noise
far overhead, at the top of the walls, and held his breath that
ho might hear the better.
" Who's there ? Answer !" cried a tremulous voice tarough
the crevices of the old wall.
" Oh ! for pity's sake, save me, save mo !" he replied, re-
covering hope at the unexpected sound of that human voice.
" Who are you ?"
" I'm a stranger, who came to visit this chateau and havo
unfortunately fallen into this cave
"
" Ah ! ah ! it's you. Well, it's come at lost God's hour
of which I apoke to you just now, the hour of expiation, tho
hour of vengeance !"
And Teresa, who had recognized the sound of his \
thus smilingly answered the captive's entreaties.
" Ah ! don't speak so !" cried the unhappy Ernest. " No,
no ! It's not possible ; have pity on me, pray, help me. You'll
not bo sorry for it. I'll give you lots of money. "
" Bah !
What do I want of money?" retorted the old woman.
"
Now, tell me do you believe there's a God?"
"
! Help help !" he cried.
"
Call as often as you like I'll not help you and no one will
come here from the fields nor from the village, for all the villagers
think this place is haunted."
At these words the unfortunate man groaned with anguish,
and Teresa on the top of the wall began to laugh heartil v.
" Now, do you believe God exists?" she repeated.
" Save me, save me, for pity's sake !" he replied beseech-
ingly.
" I'll not save yon unless you consent to recognize the ex-
istence of God. Remain, if you like,
in that well ! In that
case, good-bye to you, and I abandon you to that All-powerful
arm that will know well how to wreak its vengeance on you. "
" Wretched woman ! horrible vixen !" he cried, "well, yes,
I recognise 1 believe there is a God. "
"
Very good. Now, I'm going to get you out of this. AYait
for me quietly a moment. You have my word."
And she went as quickly as her legs could carry her towards
the garden of tho farm adjoining the old castle.
" Father Nelis," said she, going in, " there's a rat in tho
of the large iron gates open, unceremoniously entered.
At first he wandered at random among the rubbish of the
old chateau, passing through several empty apartments ho
met on his way, until at length, in an angl;; of one of the towers,
he saw a winding stairs, which he ascended, until he had
reached the second iloor of the turret. After examining its
little vaulted chambers a few moments he descended the turret
by another stairs ; but, before reaching the bottom, was
plunged into complete darkness. At the same time, the steps
he Was treading suddenly shook and crumbled beneath his
feet ho felt himself ; suddenly precipitated, tumbled down into
the darkness found himself one moment arrested by the
fragment of 1111 arch, which soon yielded to the weight of 1m
body and, at length, from fall to fall, reached the bottom of
a dark, subterranean passage or kind of cave.
He was at first slightly stunned by the suddenness of the
shock. However, he soon recovered his senses and was glad
t ha : he had received no bruise. But his position was
not loss critical, as he soon perceived with profound terror.
A dim light doubtless thut of the sky shone very high
overhead. But all around him in the darkness he could feel
tin: thick walls of his stone prison. No stairs, no door. 110
well, or,
no meun^ of
in other words, a fine city gent fallen into tho Spectre's
Tower. Come wi!h mo; wo must get him out."
"
In the Spectre's Tower ! I'm sure
"
I'll not go replied
the good farmer, terrified.
" For shame, father Nelis ! whoever could have put such
foolish things into your head ? I'm sure you're not a child;
how could you have the heart then, to let a poorwretoh perish,
simply because you're afraid of a spectre that never existed
except in your imagination."
So the courageous Teresa succeeded, not without difficulty,
in persuading him to accompany her to the old ch.-itenn, whero
she shewed him the place where Ernest had fallen, and helped
him to make an opening in the dflirin encumbering the stairs
at the end of which he had slipped into the c
Van Dormael heard his liberators accomplishing his deliverance
: it seemed to him a deadly weight was suddenly lifted
off his breast ; ho raised his head and began to breathe freclv.
Without losing any time Teresa threw him a strong rope.
"
Tie it firmly round your wnist," she cried. "And now pull
the rope. Hoist him up cautiously, father Xelis, for the arch
is half demolished. One, two, three there, thank God, hero
he is !"
Dorma;:! v.-as saved ; but ia thoec mom' -ilia-