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

" All ! n 1 ! ! my
father, indeed,'' interrupted the wretch, with
a burst of hellish iMi^ht'T. "My father, yes, I see him--
TheWoodsl: :i his face, his lips, his breast And
ho collects that blood in his hand and flings it in my face. My
father, yay yon? Know you, then, who assassinated him?
Well, it was I, Gennaro, the damned one ! Don't you see the
it was I who
bluish bloody stain that soils his breast? Well,
struck him assassinated others, too many others," continued
the unhappy being, a prey to dreadful delirium.
" There
hold, along side my father here's Victor Mor. en. He
1 by my hand. Look he uncovers his breast, and from
his breast, his lips, his eyes, burst forth flames ! Flames and
pray. The dying man was already breathing his last sighs
and uttering his last groans the fatal instant ;
was near.
" Oh brother, may you one day be able to forestall, were it
only for a single instant, the terrible hour of justice !" Nucziata
had said to the guilty Gennaro. But could such an im-
pious one as he receive that gift of the Supreme Mercy ? No
doubt he was very far from having merited it but ; the heavenly
goodness of the Lord is unbounded.
The dying man suddenly opened his eyes. He seemed at
that instant to be animated with new strength. It was the
last spark of life that scintillated, the last moment of hope before
the end before death.
The Carbonaro cast an anxious and wandering look about
him but with an ;
expression less ferocious and despairing.
" What have I done, then ? " he murmured, raising himself
with difficulty upon his knees, and resting on his elbow.
" Oh
"
heaven ! lie cried, after a moment's "
horrifying silence, Oh
heaven, I'm
"
death !
an assassin I have put an innocent man to
At these words he tried to hide to hide himself from view,
to conceal his face, but his hand fell heavy and nerveless by
his side. Victor, moved even to tears, tremblingly approached
him. There seem to be o ray of hope in the poor wretch's last
words. He tenderly pressed his already icy hand, and held it
in his arms.
" Hope, hope, my friend," he murmured, in his gentle, ten-
der voice. "You haven't killed me look, I'm here, alongside
of you, quite ready to lavish my care upon you, to offer you
my pardon."
" What ! You can pardon me ! Impossible !
"
And those
words, interrupted by the death rattle, issued spasmodically
from Genuaro's lips. "But even if you would, what use
would be your pardon? God does not pardon lost souls
"
damned souls like mine !
"Be silent, unhappy man. Don't blaspheme, Genuaro. I,
who am only a miserable sinner, pity and pardon you ! Oh,
brother, undeceive yourself; that omnipotent God, on the con-
trary, only waits for a sigh, a tear, a sign of irue repentance,
to overwhelm you with love, to admit yoii to His bosom as a
long lost child returned to his father's hearth. O ! Genuaro,
"
Gennaro, don't shut your heart to the voice of His love !
"
My God, my God, should it indeed bo possible?" cried
the unhappy man, palpitating, distracted, while bitter tears,
the first he had shed in years of callousness, error and passion.
rolled down his cheeks and fell upon his breast. "And you
will pardon me, too you whom I have hated, persecuted,
"
alas ! unto death !
,1 DOUBLE 'ICE.
" I f< a with id I my heart," said Victor, in a moving
(She me your hand, brother."
"Oh! ,1 no, no, hand. JUHI now it wa 1
. in thy blood," he r< plied,
fied gesture.
,-ek his hand with a terri-
But Victor had already seized it, held it in his, and covered
it with tears and kisses.
And the heart of the guilty one was touched; divine charity
had at last triumphed over hellish hate; the hour of
for an instant, forestalled the hour of justice, as Nuuziata had
hoped.
But at that very moment death came to claim his prry.
"
Victor, oh, good Victor," gasped Gennaro, "I'm dying
friend forgive pray for me for an unhappy sinner, forgive,
forgive, father. And tell Ste'ano Xiiuziata that I beg
them to forgive me that I O my God and you Jesus
"
fire !
everywhere All that's to consume me !"
And the miserable parricide wrung his hands despairingly,
uttering hollow groans and cries of rage and pain, and rolled
convulsively on the gra^s, reddened by the streams of blood
that flowed from his wound.
At the sight of this appalling spectacle, not one of our three
friends could retain his tears. Victor wept bitterly; Joseph
anil Martin covered their fuces with their hands to conceal
their emotion, and withdrew in horror from the miserable dying
creature.
"All human succor is henceforth useless, "murmured Victor
"
sadly. O my friends, let us pray. My God, don't let him
die before I'm avenged !"
And all three, turning towards the Holy House, began to
! Mary
And the poor wretch's drooping head fell back.
tremblingly clasped his hands. Gennaro Bianchi
more.
Victor
was no
Victor and his companions knelt by the body of the unfoitunate
Gennaro Bianchi, and commended his soul to God in
the midst of a respectful silence. Then Victor rose and gently
closed the eyes of the dead, while he dropped tears of compassion
and love upon his pale visage, and quietly kissed those
lips, forever closed.
" Sleep now in peace, poor friend," he murmured, " and may
I have the happiness of transmitting the last words of repentance
that have fallen from your lips to your brother Stefano
and your sister Nunziata !"
But a sudden weakness seized him at the moment he n
those words ; a livid paleness overspread his brow, a shadow
veiled his eyes, and he fell back motionless upon the ground.
" He's dying, he's dying !" cried Joseph despairingly, while
Martin, in his excessive grief, wrung his hands convulsively,
and blubbered
"
disconnectedly, Oh, my God ! my God ! t:ike
father Oh ! what
me instead poor mother and unhappy
a sorrow for you what a dreadful day !"
"
Victor, dear Victor, don't you hear me?" whispered Joseph,
pressing his cousin's hand. And gradually that hand M
to return that gentle, caressing pressure, and grow warm in
his. Suddenly Joseph uttered a loud cry a cry of surprise
and joy for the young man had re opened his eyes. With
throbbing heart the two friends knelt close beside him, so as
to catch his last words. "My friends," he murmured in a bro-
ken voice, " fly, I conjure you for my last hour has it's approaching I feel it
fly,
come;
without any more delay, the
dangers that threaten you !"
" But you, my dear Victor?" asked Martin.
"I I shall die here, far, far away from my countiy from
my home, but at least near the Holy House of Lo/, to. Go
away my friends, my brothers, for from one moment to another
the enemy may come and make you prisoners."
"Abandon you thus, without consolation, without help?
Never, n ver !" they both replied.
" "
But I shall soon have ceased to live and suffer.
"
No, no, Victor. Never, never. And the Piedmoute;
come if they like," the faithful Martin hastened to add,
may
"hut
the thunder crush me if I budge from here, Victor
you."
from
And at these words they could see the eyes of the wounded
man fill with tears, so touched was he by these ity and sincere attachment.
proofs of fidel-
But at that moment the sound of approaching steps, the
clanking and clashing of horses and arms, was heard in the
distance, and the startled Zouaves, listened attentive! y. ft
was not long before they saw one of the enemy's divisions,
which had dashed off in pursuit of the Pontifical army in the
hope of making prisoners.
" O henveus !" cried Joseph, "the Piedmontese are coming
O God ! what's to become of us, what shall w.- do now V"
"
My good friends," murmured Victor, "leave me aud fly
fly, I beg of you !"