She saw her benignant gaze, and knelt down, confessing all to thewonder-working saint, and besought her to heal her sick heart. Shehardly knew what oppressed her so, and what made her so immenselyhappy, at the same time. To her, woods and fields were indeed vocal,every flitting bird and gurgling brook, every passing cloud andwhispering breeze brought messages of love from him. To the mercy ofGod and the love of Christ she now committed her love. Today in theboundless reverence and religious enthusiasm she felt the need of hispresence so much more.
She looked right and left. "Something must have happened," she murmuredto herself, greatly disappointed, as it was almost twilight, andnowhere was to be seen the tall imposing figure of the fascinating manso dear to her. The sun had gone down and the shadows of the summerevening commenced to gather in the near forest, and climbed, liketrooping spirits, up the rocky mountain side.
"He was always so punctual," her voice faltered suddenly, and it grewdark before her eyes; she trembled so that she was obliged to graspone of the large candle-holders near her in order to keep her fromfalling to the ground.
An elegant carriage with four horses had just dashed by, in whichshe fancied she saw her lover with a richly dressed lady; her heartcontracted painfully. Sadly, with downcast eyes praying continually,she took her way back to the village.
Although with her pure and simple views of life, there was no room fordoubt in her loving heart, still the disquieting thoughts that he mustbe rich and of high position, she could not keep altogether away. Howelse could he be driving about with a signora apparently of nobility?Involuntarily, hot tears trickled down her red cheeks out of the greatblue eyes, like drops of rain from a patch of blue sky.
When Luigi came to the village on the following day he found Concetta'seyes swollen with weeping. She scarcely dared to raise them, stillheavy with tears, to his face, for fear he should read in them hergreat love for him.
Luigi Pavichino, the young _roue_, who had succeeded quickly enoughwith his flattering words in making her forget the cause of her secretgrief, now laughed lightly with a merriment that had none too pleasanta sound, as if he were well used to such scenes of jealousy. He calledher his dear little bride, whom he loved and would always love, andtherewith he kissed her rosy lips passionately, assuring her on hishonor that he had been driving in no carriage, but had been at themonastery with the Padre, and then at five o'clock had come to SaintCecelia's shrine, without seeing her.
The nearer the wedding day approached, the oftener Luigi came to thevillage, assuring her always of the unchangeableness of his love.
IV.
The old cloister of Santa Croce, with its classic columns, had todaya festive appearance. In front of the garden, sloping down at themountain's side, one gets a glimpse at the river Sarno, where thePorta di Stabia once was located, and the image of Minerva in terracotta--the guardian Deity of Pompeii, was excavated intact, now in theMuseum at Naples.
The old chapel was gayly decorated with rare flowers and tropicalplants today, and the finest adornments of the ancient cloister, whichhad slumbered peacefully and been forgotten in their cupboards for acentury, were brought out by the serving brothers, and cleansed anddusted of their cobwebs. They whispered excitedly putting their headstogether, for the marriage of a high-born couple was a rare eventwithin these ancient walls.
The fat prior smiled in the triple folds of his chin, on all thepreparations, with quite unusual benevolence. His little steel-grayeyes, keen and shrewd in their glance, fairly sparkled as he thoughtof the rich fee which would come to his cloister on such an occasionfrom a generous noble house.
The cook of the monastery, Brother Salvatore, had some days earlierannounced the festive event to Concetta's father, who supplied themwith fish on fast-days. Concetta was quite childishly delighted. Anoble wedding--the handsome pair--the rich costumes--all that shehad never seen in her whole life; so she teased her father until hepromised to take her to the wedding. Her cheeks glowed, her big eyessparkled with pleasure, when she was sitting in the boat in her Sundaybest and thinking of all the splendors that were going to be exhibitedbefore her.
"If I understood aright the look Saint Cecelia gave me, I shall soon bestanding there too!" she whispered to herself with a happy smile, whileher father sat opposite her and plied the oars with accustomed hands."Oh, the happiness, the happiness of belonging to him!" she went onin her whispered colloquy with herself, both hands clasped before herface, blushing with maidenly modesty.
Gloomy clouds began to obscure the sun. The magnificent landscapewas in a few minutes wrapped, as it were, in a dark veil of mist.With shining eyes she sat in the boat watching the sky, and drinkingdraughts of joy with which mingled no drop of sin or selfishness in itscrystal waves of purity; for she had grown up with nature as ignorantas her plants at home, of the roar and strife, the burning hate andcunning intrigue of the great world of men and women.
Frequent puffs of wind made the boat now tremble and rock. The fear ofan approaching storm had laid hold of the animal world as well; theterrified sea-gulls flew wildly over Concetta's head, while a hideousowl in the neighboring olive-grove uttered its long-drawn, harsh notes,which floated out over the river. Concetta saw and heard nothing. Herthoughts were with the man to whom she had given herself in almostsuperhuman love, whom she was tempted to adore like the holy imageof Christ before which she knelt in lowly reverence, imploring Hisblessing on her beloved.
She heard the sound of the great bell, which was only rung on greatoccasions; the nearer she came, the more joyfully beat her heart. Agaily-decked steamer lay already at the landing stage, so that theyhad to go a little further in order to land. They had no sooner founda place where they could moor their boat than Concetta with impatienthaste sprang ashore. They then climbed the steep hill as quickly aspossible. Great raindrops fell again, and began to wet Concetta'sSunday dress.
At last they reached the cloister; but they had come near missingthe ceremony. The solemn tones of the organ were still soundingimpressively through the chapel. Concetta, with shining eyes and wetthrough and through, was standing near the chapel door, contemplatingthe undreamed-of splendor of costumes of the high-born ladies. Thebridal pair, surrounded by wedding guests congratulating them heartily,were not yet visible.
"Now! now!" there was a general movement towards the outer door of thechapel.
"Here they are coming now," whispered Concetta with sparkling eyesfull of expectation, to her father, whose head was bowed reverently.Everybody rushed on in order to have an advantageous place when thebridal party passed.
Girls all in white came first, carrying bouquets in their hands,and then Luigi--pale and haggard--looking like a bad consciencepersonified; and on his arm came the bride all in white!
Concetta saw and heard no more.
The tortured image of Saint Antoni in the entrance stared ghostly ather, dripping drops of blood. The decaying walls of the old cloistertottered about her, flames sprang up towards her from yawning abysses;lightning shot across her brain, and Beelzebub with his infernal bandgnashed his teeth at her in a laugh of malicious triumph.
She recoiled, dazed with awe-struck terror without a sound, without acry she moved unobserved by the jostling crowd behind Luigi. Her blueeyes wide open never turned from him an instant, as if struck dumb by ahorror too great for words or cry.
A little keen steel blade was glistening in her hand, and the nextinstant Luigi was stabbed through his treacherous heart. He fellsenseless at the feet of his newly wedded bride.
The frightened wedding guests, fearing a fainting spell, rushed tohim, but the blood was now flowing freely from the spot where she hadstabbed him. Nobody saw her do it. He was quickly carried into themonastery, followed by the wedding guests.
Concetta uttered a wild cry, and rushed weeping aloud down the hilltowards the harbor. It was already dark; the wind was now blowing withthe vehemence of a hurricane over the foaming waters, and the roar ofthunder shook the bathing-houses on the left hand side of the
harbor.Concetta, with a sudden headlong rush, breathless and horrified hadreached the landing pier. With a loud cry she threw herself into thefoaming waves and disappeared.
At the same moment her father and brother Salvatore, running after her,had reached the water.
Poor Niccolo, trembling in every limb, was at first rendered almosthelpless with horror; but the despair which began to hold sway over himgave him now superhuman strength. With frantic haste he unfastened hislittle boat, and rowed gesticulating wildly to the spot where he hadseen her sink. He loved his only daughter with a love that was akin toidolatry. His grey hair fluttered wildly about his furrowed and heatedbrow; great tears trickled down his dark cheeks, and panting aloud hegazed down into the foaming gloomy depths.
"Santissima!" he cried aloud, "Madonna! My greatest treasure--my onlychild! Have mercy!"
A vivid flash of lightning illuminated the stormy surface and then--hesaw the red dress floating upon the waves. "Cara mia!" he cried, witha stammering tongue, wild with joy when he had grasped her and draggedthe dear form into the boat. Calling her ceaselessly by endearingnames, he pressed her to his heart as though to bring back warmth andlife to her young body, and covered her dear face with passionatekisses, but the beautiful head fell back pale and lifeless; the greatblue eyes were closed; she was dead.
With horror in his wide strained eyes, and pallor on his quiveringlips, he gazed at the prostrate form before him, the lifeless eyesstaring now blankly at the sky,--the hue of life and exuberant healthstill glowing on the full cheeks adorned with every grace of youth andbeauty.
"Morte--morte!" stammered the father, frantic with grief, tearing hisgrey hair despairingly. No merry glance, no roguish smile she had anymore for him.
"Figlia mia morte!" he cried, beating his breast wildly. "You will beavenged, none of them will escape!" And holding the dead Concetta inhis arms, he stood there erect with flaming eyes and panting breathswearing the oath of the deadly feud between him and the family,clenching his fists threateningly. The mighty grief tore at his heartstrings and finally, brought bitter tears to his burning eyes, greatdrops streaming down over his grief-stricken face.
On the pier, Brother Salvatore had sunk upon his knees and claspedthe silver crucifix, which hung at his side by a cord. Holding it outtowards the boat, he raised his voice, "Benedizione!" he cried aloud. Ashiver shook his emaciated frame as if the spectacle which he beheld,would have burned itself indelibly upon his memory.
The lightning flashes showed from afar the silver cross as it were--asymbol of atonement and--forgiveness.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Obvious printer errors have been corrected without comment.Inconsistencies in the use of hyphens has been addressed wherepossible. Otherwise the author's non-use of accents, spelling andpunctuation have been left intact with the following exception:
Page 161: The word "thought" was changed to "though" in the followingphrase: "though it looked as if she was even too shy for that."
The Gnomes of the Saline Mountains: A Fantastic Narrative Page 9
