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

".IP, about fifty ity
of Hi"
As to Victor, ho h.
iug his penance aside, plunged in a profound meditati
absorbed in prayer. His glances rested on t
dome that shields the modest and holy lion
Mary. That noble cupola, tracing ke sombre oi.lline on the
bine background of the clouds, seemed clearly point!
heaven with its tapering spire. With hands crossed upon hi*
breast, and his face beaming with faith, hope, and fervor, ho
lovingly repeated the name of the Mother of God, the lie:
Mary.
At length he arose and joined his friends.
"
Well, we are ready," he cried out to them, as he drew
" ii' ar. Here, at least, is a cl go< work done, i-n't it.? 8", my
friends " ;
he continued, in amore serious tone, ''the viet
now prepared for the sacrifice. Wo await nothing now bnt
tlie sacrilicer ; and, in all probability, he'll not be long com-
my's forces are far tuperior in number to ours. No doubt,
many of us, to-morrow, will have to seal, with their blood,
their solemn engagements contracted before God and the
Church. I know it, I am prepared /or it, and yet, let rne own
it, I never felt BO tranquil- so happy !"
"
It is the same
"
-with me," interposed Joseph. Besides,
my friend, is'nt our future destiny, when regarded with the
of faith, truly happy thoroughly desirable? Whether
victory crowns, or death smites us, we arc equally cer tain to
triumph. If we must die, wo fall at leas i fearlessly, with the
palernal benediction of the Vicar of Christ, and from the plain
crowned by the humble house of Nazareth, soar upwards to
the glorious tabernacle of the heavenly Jerusalem."
"
Really, Joseph, how weH you're able to speak!" cried
Martin, seized with admiration at his comrade's words. "All
you say is really so fine that 1 11 be inconsolable if I sho.ild
happen to survive to-morrow's battle."
The two young cousins could not h-lp laughing at this
simple but touching exclamation of their valiant comrade.
"You're right, Joseph," resumed Victor, after a few mo-
ment's silence. "Our lot is really enviable and thoroughly
to obtain, to hope for, and perhaps I'll render myself worthy
of that happiness by joyfully dying for my faith and the glory
of Christ. It is to that end I have offered my youth aud my
blood, my heart and my life to God ? Aud I have nothing more
of 'Mary, when I shall go to kneel in her house to-morrow,
than this grace the greatest of all."
Here tin- three friends kept silent for some instants, for they
were deeply moved by Victor's words.
of that moment?" Vic-
" Do yon know whom I was thinking
tor at length resumed. "Well my thoughts w..udered very
far from me to our native laud. I seemed to Bee our dear
.1 D 27
'
i of Our !
''IV U :, al! ',( {ho
lout their
" II;. \c 1: '
anxiously.
I Martin
" I don't think so," n i. pi
!
I Vwtor.
not hav failed io inform them of the I'iedmonl
,'UO,"
" Bnt the papers will
r
disloyal conduct.
"
Poor mother ! dear friends ! Nothing for them but
and tribulation !" *i
;>h.
"( ioii will c.ime to I heir aid we've so long besought Him !"
t promptly resumed.
" And even if we should die on tho
battle-field, far away from them, they'll still i
faith, by hope, by the divine promises of heaven an. I
ing."
"What sacrificer ?" replied Martin. "Do you mean the
general enemy? Well, he has only to come and all Ms soldiers
with him. I promise them, it'll not be with little lambs and
weak, gentle sheep they'll have to do."
At these words the giant rose rapidly, stretching out his
enormous arm* before; him, proudly raising his head and throwing
himself at a single bound into a posture of defence with
contracted brow, fury and disdain in his certainty
face, and blue eyes
dilated.
"
Keep up yonr courugj my brave Martin," Victor quietly
"
resumed. We are certainly soldiers as well aj victims, aud,
at least, we'll sell our livvs dearly. Bnt, you know, the ene-
of rejoining ni thre. But my father, my unhappy
father !" cried the noble ami generous fellow, wln>
frayed heart-rending sorrow; " my fatter, whom I have
so tenderly aud whom I cannot save ! Oh ! where will he be
for all eteruily? Shall I see him again ? My friends, my
brothers, you will pray for him along with me to-morrow, at
tho feet of Mary, won't you ?" and ho broke down, covering his
face -with his hands, to stifle his sobs.
"Confidence and hope, my friend," said Joseph to him,
grasping his ,
"
hand, Don't you know the divine po
prayer above all, the prayers of a C-ild for a father? Who
tells you your father's heart hasn't already felt the mysterious
iulluence of grace ? Doesn't your mother tell you he's completely
changed. Come, my dear Victor, I can't tell you why,
but a secret presentiment tells me that your father will recover
the faith aud return to God. Don't despair, then courage and
",[
by
confidence."
" Thanks, Joseph, your good words fortify and console me,"
replied Victor, rising. "May that consoling promise be
realized ! Believe me, I, too, would like to be able to hope ;
and yet, each time I think of my father it seems to me that the
blade of a poniard buries i^sel in my breast, I experience such
doubts, fears, disquietudes, and grief."
But darkness had soon overshadowed tho horizon, veiling all
the details of the picturesque and graceful tableau of UK in
and plain, and our threo friends rose to rejoin their companion*
who were preparing Jor sleep, with the earth for a pillow and
tho sky for a tent.
Before his departure from Foligno, Victor had written to his
"
parents. My good father, my fond mother," ho wrote,
"
these lines are perhaps the last you will receive from me.
We are going to encounter the enemy who is coming to meet
us with very superior forces. And yet, my dear parents, don't
be grieved. Whatever may happen, you and I are in the
hands of the Lord, and doesn't it belong to him, as the '
Imita-
tion' says, to succor and protect 1 1 is children in their disi
Aud then, you kuow, already I've long offered the >
my life and blood to God ; I renew this offering to-day, with
th same k-auquility of mind, the same resignation ; aud, if
happy. For my part, at least, I'd not exchange the destiny
that awaits me for all the glories and pleasures of the universe.
Haven't I had the honor of kissing the venerable hands of the
Father of the Faithful. Hasn't he graciously given me his
prayers and benedictions ! Haveu't I prostrated myself before
the blessed relics of the martyrs and apostles, and on the earth
bedewed by their precious blood ? And shall I not have the
happine s, the ineffable joy, to-morrow, of seeing Him descend
within the shadow of those very walls where, according to the
word of the angel, he descended into tho immaculate womb of
His holy Mother ? I have only one grace, one this sacrifice of blood is soon to be demanded of me, I hope t