Agnes of Sorrento

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE MONK AND THE CAVALIER

  Father Antonio had been down through the streets of the old town ofSorrento, searching for the young stonecutter, and finding him hadspent some time in enlightening him as to the details of the work hewished him to execute.

  He found him not so easily kindled into devotional fervors as he hadfondly imagined, nor could all his most devout exhortations produce onequarter of the effect upon him that resulted from the discovery thatit was the fair Agnes who originated the design and was interested inits execution. Then did the large black eyes of the youth kindle intosomething of sympathetic fervor, and he willingly promised to do hisvery best at the carving.

  "I used to know the fair Agnes well, years ago," he said, "but of lateshe will not even look at me; yet I worship her none the less. Who canhelp it that sees her? I don't think she is so hard-hearted as sheseems; but her grandmother and the priests won't so much as allow herto lift up her eyes when one of us young fellows goes by. Twice thesefive years past have I seen her eyes, and then it was when I contrivedto get near the holy water when there was a press round it of a saint'sday, and I reached some to her on my finger, and then she smiled uponme and thanked me. Those two smiles are all I have had to live on forall this time. Perhaps, if I work very well, she will give me another,and perhaps she will say, 'Thank you, my good Pietro!' as she used to,when I brought her birds' eggs or helped her across the ravine, yearsago."

  "Well, my brave boy, do your best," said the monk, "and let the shrinebe of the fairest white marble. I will be answerable for the expense; Iwill beg it of those who have substance."

  "So please you, holy father," said Pietro, "I know of a spot, a littlebelow here on the coast, where was a heathen temple in the old days;and one can dig therefrom long pieces of fair white marble, all coveredwith heathen images. I know not whether your Reverence would think themfit for Christian purposes."

  "So much the better, boy! so much the better!" said the monk, heartily."Only let the marble be fine and white, and it is as good as convertinga heathen any time to baptize it to Christian uses. A few strokesof the chisel will soon demolish their naked nymphs and other suchrubbish, and we can carve holy virgins, robed from head to foot in allmodesty, as becometh saints."

  "I will get my boat and go down this very afternoon," said Pietro;"and, sir, I hope I am not making too bold in asking you, when you seethe fair Agnes, to present unto her this lily, in memorial of her oldplayfellow."

  "That I will, my boy! And now I think of it, she spoke kindly ofyou as one that had been a companion in her childhood, but said hergrandmother would not allow her to speak to you now."

  "Ah, that is it!" said Pietro. "Old Elsie is a fierce old kite, withstrong beak and long claws, and will not let the poor girl have anygood of her youth. Some say she means to marry her to some rich oldman, and some say she will shut her up in a convent, which I should saywas a sore hurt and loss to the world. There are a plenty of women,whom nobody wants to look at, for that sort of work; and a beautifulface is a kind of psalm which makes one want to be good."

  "Well, well, my boy, work well and faithfully for the saints on thisshrine, and I dare promise you many a smile from this fair maiden; forher heart is set upon the glory of God and his saints, and she willsmile on any one who helps on the good work. I shall look in on youdaily for a time, till I see the work well started."

  So saying, the old monk took his leave. Just as he was passing out ofthe house, some one brushed rapidly by him, going down the street. Ashe passed, the quick eye of the monk recognized the cavalier whom hehad seen in the garden but a few evenings before. It was not a face andform easily forgotten, and the monk followed him at a little distancebehind, resolving, if he saw him turn in anywhere, to follow and cravean audience of him.

  Accordingly, as he saw the cavalier entering under the low arch thatled to his hotel, he stepped up and addressed him with a gesture ofbenediction.

  "God bless you, my son!"

  "What would you with me, father?" said the cavalier, with a hasty andsomewhat suspicious glance.

  "I would that you would give me an audience of a few moments on somematters of importance," said the monk, mildly.

  The tones of his voice seemed to have excited some vague remembrance inthe mind of the cavalier; for he eyed him narrowly, and seemed tryingto recollect where he had seen him before. Suddenly a light appeared toflash upon his mind; for his whole manner became at once more cordial.

  "My good father," he said, "my poor lodging and leisure are at yourservice for any communication you may see fit to make."

  So saying, he led the way up the damp, ill-smelling stone staircase,and opened the door of the deserted room where we have seen him oncebefore. Closing the door, and seating himself at the one rickety tablewhich the room afforded, he motioned to the monk to be seated also;then taking off his plumed hat, he threw it negligently on the tablebeside him, and passing his white, finely formed hand through the blackcurls of his hair, he tossed them carelessly from his forehead, and,leaning his chin in the hollow of his hand, fixed his glittering eyeson the monk in a manner that seemed to demand his errand.

  "My Lord," said the monk, in those gentle, conciliating tones whichwere natural to him, "I would ask a little help of you in regard of aChristian undertaking which I have here in hand. The dear Lord hathput it into the heart of a pious young maid of this vicinity to erecta shrine to the honor of our Lady and her dear Son in this gorge ofSorrento, hard by. It is a gloomy place in the night, and hath beensaid to be haunted by evil spirits; and my fair niece, who is full ofall holy thoughts, desired me to draw the plan for this shrine, and, sofar as my poor skill may go, I have done so. See, here, my Lord, arethe drawings."

  The monk laid them down on the table, his pale cheek flushing with afaint glow of artistic enthusiasm and pride, as he explained to theyoung man the plan and drawings.

  The cavalier listened courteously, but without much apparent interest,till the monk drew from his portfolio a paper and said,--

  "This, my Lord, is my poor and feeble conception of the most sacredform of our Lady, which I am to paint for the centre of the shrine."

  He laid down the paper, and the cavalier, with a sudden exclamation,snatched it up, looking at it eagerly.

  "It is she!" he said; "it is her very self!--the divine Agnes,--thelily flower,--the sweet star,--the only one among women!"

  "I see you have recognized the likeness," said the monk, blushing."I know it hath been thought a practice of doubtful edification torepresent holy things under the image of aught earthly; but when anymortal seems especially gifted with a heavenly spirit outshining in theface, it may be that our Lady chooses that person to reveal herself in."

  The cavalier was gazing so intently on the picture that he scarcelyheard the apology of the monk; he held it up, and seemed to study itwith a long admiring gaze.

  "You have great skill with your pencil, my father," he said; "one wouldnot look for such things from under a monk's hood."

  "I belong to the San Marco in Florence, of which you may have heard,"said Father Antonio, "and am an unworthy disciple of the traditions ofthe blessed Angelico, whose visions of heavenly things are ever beforeus; and no less am I a disciple of the renowned Savonarola, of whosefame all Italy hath heard before now."

  "Savonarola?" said the other, with eagerness,--"he that makes thesevile miscreants that call themselves Pope and cardinals tremble? AllItaly, all Christendom, is groaning and stretching out the hand to himto free them from these abominations. My father, tell me of Savonarola:how goes he, and what success hath he?"

  "My son, it is now many months since I left Florence; since which timeI have been sojourning in by-places, repairing shrines and teaching thepoor of the Lord's flock, who are scattered and neglected by the idleshepherds, who think only to eat the flesh and warm themselves with thefleece of the sheep for whom the Good Shepherd gave his life. My dutieshave been humble and quiet; for it is not given to me
to wield thesword of rebuke and controversy, like my great master."

  "And you have not heard, then," said the cavalier, eagerly, "that theyhave excommunicated him?"

  "I knew that was threatened," said the monk, "but I did not think itpossible that it could befall a man of such shining holiness of life,so signally and openly owned of God that the very gifts of the firstApostles seem revived in him."

  "Does not Satan always hate the Lord?" said the cavalier. "Alexanderand his councils are possessed of the Devil, if ever men were,--andare sealed as his children by every abominable wickedness. The Devilsits in Christ's seat, and hath stolen his signet-ring, to seal decreesagainst the Lord's own followers. What are Christian men to do in suchcase?"

  The monk sighed and looked troubled.

  "It is hard to say," he answered. "So much I know,--that before I leftFlorence our master wrote to the King of France touching the dreadfulstate of things at Rome, and tried to stir him up to call a generalcouncil of the Church. I much fear me this letter may have fallen intothe hands of the Pope."

  "I tell you, father," said the young man, starting up and laying hishand on his sword, "we must fight! It is the sword that must decidethis matter! Was not the Holy Sepulchre saved from the Infidels by thesword?--and once more the sword must save the Holy City from worseinfidels than the Turks. If such doings as these are allowed in theHoly City, another generation there will be no Christians left onearth. Alexander and Caesar Borgia and the Lady Lucrezia are enough todrive religion from the world. They make us long to go back to thetraditions of our Roman fathers,--who were men of cleanly and honorablelives and of heroic deeds, scorning bribery and deceit. They honoredGod by noble lives, little as they knew of Him. But these men are ashame to the mothers that bore them."

  "You speak too truly, my son," said the monk. "Alas! the creationgroaneth and travaileth in pain with these things. Many a time and ofthave I seen our master groaning and wrestling with God on this account.For it is to small purpose that we have gone through Italy preachingand stirring up the people to more holy lives, when from the veryhill of Zion, the height of the sanctuary, come down these streams ofpollution. It seems as if the time had come that the world could bearit no longer."

  "Well, if it come to the trial of the sword, as come it must," saidthe cavalier, "say to your master that Agostino Sarelli has a band ofone hundred tried men and an impregnable fastness in the mountains,where he may take refuge, and where they will gladly hear the Word ofGod from pure lips. They call us robbers,--us who have gone out fromthe assembly of robbers, that we might lead honest and cleanly lives.There is not one among us that hath not lost houses, lands, brothers,parents, children, or friends through their treacherous cruelty. Therebe those whose wives and sisters have been forced into the Borgiaharem; there be those whose children have been tortured before theireyes,--those who have seen the fairest and dearest slaughtered by thesehell-hounds, who yet sit in the seat of the Lord and give decrees inthe name of Christ. Is there a God? If there be, why is He silent?"

  "Yea, my son, there is a God," said the monk; "but His ways are not asours. A thousand years in His sight are but as yesterday, as a watch inthe night. He shall come, and shall not keep silence."

  "Perhaps you do not know, father," said the young man, "that I, too,am excommunicated. I am excommunicated, because, Caesar Borgia havingkilled my oldest brother, and dishonored and slain my sister, andseized on all our possessions, and the Pope having protected andconfirmed him therein, I declare the Pope to be not of God, but of theDevil. I will not submit to him, nor be ruled by him; and I and myfellows will make good our mountains against him and his crew with suchright arms as the good Lord hath given us."

  "The Lord be with you, my son!" said the monk; "and the Lord bring HisChurch out of these deep waters! Surely, it is a lovely and beautifulChurch, made dear and precious by innumerable saints and martyrs whohave given their sweet lives up willingly for it; and it is full ofrecords of righteousness, of prayers and alms and works of mercy thathave made even the very dust of our Italy precious and holy. Why hastThou abandoned this vine of Thy planting, O Lord? The boar out of thewood doth waste it; the wild beast of the field doth devour it. Return,we beseech Thee, and visit this vine of Thy planting!"

  The monk clasped his hands and looked upward pleadingly, the tearsrunning down his wasted cheeks. Ah, many such strivings and prayersin those days went up from silent hearts in obscure solitudes, thatwrestled and groaned under that mighty burden which Luther at lastreceived strength to heave from the heart of the Church.

  "Then, father, you do admit that one may be banned by the Pope, and mayutterly refuse and disown him, and yet be a Christian?"

  "How can I otherwise?" said the monk. "Do I not see the greatest saintthis age or any age has ever seen under the excommunication of thegreatest sinner? Only, my son, let me warn you. Become not irreverentto the true Church, because of a false usurper. Reverence thesacraments, the hymns, the prayers all the more for this sad conditionin which you stand. What teacher is more faithful in these respectsthan my master? Who hath more zeal for our blessed Lord Jesus, and amore living faith in Him? Who hath a more filial love and tendernesstowards our blessed Mother? Who hath more reverent communion with allthe saints than he? Truly, he sometimes seems to me to walk encompassedby all the armies of heaven,--such a power goes forth in his words, andsuch a holiness in his life."

  "Ah," said Agostino, "would I had such a confessor! The sacramentsmight once more have power for me, and I might cleanse my soul fromunbelief."

  "Dear son," said the monk, "accept a most unworthy, but sincerefollower of this holy prophet, who yearns for thy salvation. Let mehave the happiness of granting to thee the sacraments of the Church,which, doubtless, are thine by right as one of the flock of the LordJesus. Come to me some day this week in confession, and thereafter thoushalt receive the Lord within thee, and be once more united to Him."

  "My good father," said the young man, grasping his hand, and muchaffected, "I will come. Your words have done me good; but I must thinkmore of them. I will come soon; but these things cannot be done withoutpondering; it will take some time to bring my heart into charity withall men."

  The monk rose up to depart, and began to gather up his drawings.

  "For this matter, father," said the cavalier, throwing several goldpieces upon the table, "take these, and as many more as you need askfor your good work. I would willingly pay any sum," he added, while afaint blush rose to his cheek, "if you would give me a copy of this.Gold would be nothing in comparison with it."

  "My son," said the monk, smiling, "would it be to thee an image of anearthly or a heavenly love?"

  "Of both, father," said the young man. "For that dear face has beenmore to me than prayer or hymn; it has been even as a sacrament to me,and through it I know not what of holy and heavenly influences havecome to me."

  "Said I not well," said the monk, exulting, "that there were those onwhom our Mother shed such grace that their very beauty led heavenward?Such are they whom the artist looks for, when he would adorn a shrinewhere the faithful shall worship. Well, my son, I must use my poor artfor you; and as for gold, we of our convent take it not except for theadorning of holy things, such as this shrine."

  "How soon shall it be done?" said the young man, eagerly.

  "Patience, patience, my Lord! Rome was not built in a day, and our artmust work by slow touches; but I will do my best. But wherefore, myLord, cherish this image?"

  "Father, are you of near kin to this maid?"

  "I am her grandmother's only brother."

  "Then I say to you, as the nearest of her male kin, that I seek thismaid in pure and honorable marriage; and she hath given me her promise,that, if ever she be wife of mortal man, she will be mine."

  "But she looks not to be wife of any man," said the monk; "so, atleast, I have heard her say; though her grandmother would fain marryher to a husband of her choosing. 'T is a willful woman, is my sisterElsie, and a worldly,--not easy
to persuade, and impossible to drive."

  "And she hath chosen for this fair angel some base peasant churl whowill have no sense of her exceeding loveliness? By the saints, if itcome to this, I will carry her away with the strong arm!"

  "That is not to be apprehended just at present. Sister Elsie isdotingly fond of the girl, which hath slept in her bosom since infancy."

  "And why should I not demand her in marriage of your sister?" said theyoung man.

  "My Lord, you are an excommunicated man, and she would have horrorof you. It is impossible; it would not be to edification to make thecommon people judges in such matters. It is safest to let their faithrest undisturbed, and that they be not taught to despise ecclesiasticalcensures. This could not be explained to Elsie; she would drive youfrom her doors with her distaff, and you would scarce wish to put yoursword against it. Besides, my Lord, if you were not excommunicated, youare of noble blood, and this alone would be a fatal objection with mysister, who hath sworn on the holy cross that Agnes shall never loveone of your race."

  "What is the cause of this hatred?"

  "Some foul wrong which a noble did her mother," said the monk; "forAgnes is of gentle blood on her father's side."

  "I might have known it," said the cavalier to himself; "her words andways are unlike anything in her class. Father," he added, touching hissword, "we soldiers are fond of cutting all Gordian knots, whether oflove or religion, with this. The sword, father, is the best theologian,the best casuist. The sword rights wrongs and punishes evil doers, andsome day the sword may cut the way out of this embarrass also."

  "Gently, my son! gently!" said the monk; "nothing is lost by patience.See how long it takes the good Lord to make a fair flower out of alittle seed; and He does all quietly, without bluster. Wait on Him alittle in peacefulness and prayer, and see what He will do for thee."

  "Perhaps you are right, my father," said the cavalier, cordially."Your counsels have done me good, and I shall seek them further. Butdo not let them terrify my poor Agnes with dreadful stories of theexcommunication that hath befallen me. The dear saint is breakingher good little heart for my sins, and her confessor evidently hathforbidden her to speak to me or look at me. If her heart were leftto itself, it would fly to me like a little tame bird, and I wouldcherish it forever; but now she sees sin in every innocent, womanlythought,--poor little dear child-angel that she is!"

  "Her confessor is a Franciscan," said the monk, who, good as he was,could not escape entirely from the ruling prejudice of his order, "andfrom what I know of him, I should think might be unskillful in whatpertaineth to the nursing of so delicate a lamb. It is not every one towhom is given the gift of rightly directing souls."

  "I'd like to carry her off from him!" said the cavalier, between histeeth. "I will, too, if he is not careful!" Then he added aloud,"Father, Agnes is mine,--mine by the right of the truest worship anddevotion that man could ever pay to woman,--mine because she lovesme. For I know she loves me; I know it far better than she knows itherself, the dear, innocent child! and I will not have her torn from meto waste her life in a lonely, barren convent, or to be the wife of astolid peasant. I am a man of my word, and I will vindicate my right toher in the face of God and man."

  "Well, well, my son, as I said before, patience,--one thing at a time.Let us say our prayers and sleep to-night, to begin with, and to-morrowwill bring us fresh counsel."

  "Well, my father, you will be for me in this matter?" said the youngman.

  "My son, I wish you all happiness; and if this be for your best goodand that of my dear niece, I wish it. But, as I said, there must betime and patience. The way must be made clear. I will see how the casestands; and you may be sure, when I can in good conscience, I willbefriend you."

  "Thank you, my father, thank you!" said the young man, bending his kneeto receive the monk's parting benediction.

  "It seems to me not best," said the monk, turning once more, as he wasleaving the threshold, "that you should come to me at present where Iam,--it would only raise a storm that I could not allay; and so greatwould be the power of the forces they might bring to bear on the child,that her little heart might break and the saints claim her too soon."

  "Well, then, father, come hither to me to-morrow at this same hour, ifI be not too unworthy of your pastoral care."

  "I shall be too happy, my son," said the monk. "So be it."

  And he turned from the door just as the bell of the cathedral struckthe Ave Maria, and all in the street bowed in the evening act ofworship.