CHAPTER X. THE ORPHAN
At the hour when Silvio, with despair in his soul, led the unhappyCamilla out of the Colosseum towards her father's house, not a wordpassed between them. He regarded her with tender pity, having loved herardently, and feeling that she was comparatively innocent, being, as shewas, the victim of deception and violence.
Onward they went in silence and sadness. Silvio had abstained fromvisiting her home since it was so suddenly deserted by Camilla, and asthey neared it a presentiment of new sorrowing took possession of him.Turning out of the high road into a lane, their meditations were brokenin upon by the barking of a dog. "Fido! Fido!" cried Camilla, with morejoyousness than she had experienced for many many months; but, as ifremembering suddenly her abasement, she checked her quickened step, and,casting down her eyes, stood motionless, overwhelmed with shame. Silviohad loved her too dearly even to hate her for her guilt. Or if he hadever felt bitterly against her, her sudden appearance that night, wildwith remorse and misery, had brought back something of the old feeling,and he would have defended her against a whole army. He had thereforesustained her very tenderly through the walk from the Colosseum, andhad been full of generous thoughts, although silent; while she, timidlyleaning on his strong arm, had now and then learned by a timid glance,that he was pitying and not abominating her by that silence.
But when she stopped and trembled at the sound of the house-dog's bark,Silvio, fearing a return of a paroxysm of madness, touched her arm,saying, for the first time, "Come, Camilla, it is your little Fidowelcoming you; he has recognized your footstep."
Scarcely had he uttered these words before the dog itself appeared.After pausing a moment in his rush, as if uncertain, he sprang towardsCamilla, barking, and jumping, and making frantic efforts to lick herface and hands. Such a reception would have touched a heart of stone.
Camilla burst into tears as she stooped to caress the affectionateanimal; but nature was exhausted, and she fell senseless on the dampground. Silvio, after covering her with his mantle, to protect her fromthe cold morning air--for the dawn had already begun to break--went toseek her father.
The barking of the dog had aroused the household, so that the younghunter perceived, as he approached, a boy standing on the threshold,looking cautiously around, as if distrusting so early a visitor.
"Marcellino," he shouted; whereat the boy, recognizing the friendlyfamiliar voice, ran to him, and threw his arms around his neck.
"Where is your godfather, my boy?" Silvio asked; but receiving noresponse save tears, he said again, "Where is Marcello?"
"He is dead," replied the sobbing child. "Dead!" exclaimed Silvio,sinking upon a stone, overcome with surprise and emotion. Very soon thetears rolled down his masculine cheeks, and mingled with those of thechild, who lay upon his bosom.
"O God!" he cried aloud; "canst thou permit the desires of a monster tocause such suffering to so many and to such precious human creatures?Did I not feel the hope that the day of my beloved country's releasefrom priestly tyranny is at hand I would plunge my dagger into mybreast, and not endure to see this daylight break!" Recovering himselfwith a violent effort, he returned, accompanied by Marcellino, toCamilla, whom he found in an uneasy sleep. "Poor girl, poor ruinedorphan," murmured Silvio, as he gazed upon her pale and wasted beauty;"why should I arouse you? You will but awake too soon to a life oftears, misery, and vain repentance!"
Rule of the Monk; Or, Rome in the Nineteenth Century Page 11
