XXVIII
It was the birthday of the little Prince:--only one year since he hadopened his baby-eyes on life--and the day of his anniversary dawnedradiantly.
Then, suddenly, athwart the sunshine and the promise, like the cloud ina perfect sky in a day of June, the shadows gathered and darkened.
The child was stricken.
"There is no hope," they said; and before the day had closed the littledimpled hands were folded over his marble breast, the long dark lashespeacefully swept the violet eyes that would never again unclose; and thetiny restless feet were still--oh, God, how still!--while, on thebaby-brows that would never know the weight of the crown he was born tobear, the smile of a cherub crowned him with the promise of fairer Life.
The nobles, the soldiers, the courtiers, the people, they came andlooked, often with silent tears, as he lay in state, in the light ofcountless tapers, on his mound of flowers--offerings not only from royalterraces--for his mother had willed it so--but the gifts which hispeople had brought, lay there together, rare exotics and the flowers ofthe field and forest, crushed and mangled, perchance, in some toil-wornhand when they came from far.
How little he seemed to have carried the hope of a kingdom!--how strong,to have swept it away with the mere folding of his baby-hand!--howmighty, to have crushed all dreams of happiness, forever, within hismother's breast!
GOD HAVE MERCY!
* * * * *
When the first days of the shock of the child's death had passed, andthe Queen had roused herself to notice those who were anxiously watchingher, she asked to be left alone with Dama Margherita: but of the childshe would not speak.
"Tell me," she said, "of the saintly Margherita of thine house, theAbbess of San Lazzaro; why left she the world?"
"Dear Lady--beloved Lady"--Dama Margherita pleaded, and would havesoothed her; but the Queen would have the story. She laid a hot,tremulous hand on that of her friend and urged her with dry, imploringeyes, as she listened to the tale of the founding of the Abbey of SanLazzaro, while for pity, the tears of Margherita were dropping fast.
"We must turn her from this thought," said Dama Margherita earnestly tothe Lady of the Bernardini, as she left the Queen's presence,sorrowfully. "She will not speak of the child; she hath wept no tears;and the fever of her grief, locked within herself, will drive her tomadness. She hath asked that Father Johannes be sent for, without delay.Doubtless it is for this scheme. Doth it seem wise to your Excellencynow--while she is in this state?"
"Cara Margherita, should we be slow to obey the will of a sufferingsoul, for fear of what might chance? The reverend Father is wise forher: if any might bring her comfort, it is he."
* * * * *
Father Johannes Lampadisti had been often with the Queen in the pastyear, and had become her trusted counsellor, and almoner in many mattersrelating to the people, so that the guards and servants of the palaceknew that when the wild prior of the convent from the mountain of theTroodos appeared in the palace court-yard asking audience of the Queen,he was never to be denied.
"Most reverend Father," she said, stretching out her hand to greet him,yet with no hint of welcome in her wan face, "they have stripped me ofevery joy; I had thought the Holy Christus and the Blessed Mother ofSorrows had been more kind!"
"Daughter!" he exclaimed, startled at her mood; "cry not out against thewill of Heaven, lest thou sin because of thine unendurable anguish."
The words had escaped him, involuntarily, but already he was chidinghimself that he could bring her, at such a time, even the shadow of areproach.
But Caterina was beyond any perception of minor shades of feeling. Sheanswered him in the same passionless tone in which she had greeted him,with no suggestion of self-pity, nor any claim for sympathy in hermanner, as she motioned him to a seat near her.
"Nay, Father," she said, "in this hath Heaven been merciful: I feelnothing; my heart is a stone. For this I thank the Holy Mother; she knewthat I could not bear it, else."
She made the statement simply, as if it implied nothing unusual, andwaited for him to speak.
But for once Father Johannes had no words; his eyes grew dim as helooked at the young, passive face of the Queen, "stripped of every joy,"alone on the threshold of life. "Daughter," he said, stumblingly, "Ifain would comfort thee."
"Nay, Father," she answered, still without emotion, "there is nocomfort. Let us speak of other things."
"Nay, _of this_," he said, with an awkward wave of his rough brown hand,as if he would have put everything else away: and then relapsed intosilence, for in the presence of the grief which had mastered her, wordsseemed to have lost their meaning.
She also waited--as a gray stone might wait by the wayside, unconsciousof the lapse of time: for him the moments were quick with thought--forher it was as if they had not been, because life had ended.
"There must be comfort for all sorrow that Heaven permitteth," heprotested at last.
She looked at him wondering.
"But not for mine," she said in the same colorless tone. "Thou knowestnaught of such sorrow, for thou livest apart from men. Thou canst notknow the pain, when thou hast not known the joy."
"Yet from sympathy one may know," he began feebly. But she took nonotice of the interruption, and as he looked at her he realized that hehad never known life in its poignancy--that he stood outside the depthsof human suffering, though he had dwelt forever in its shadow, nor hadhis stern life measured the height of holy, human joy.
"I left my people and my land," she said, "and came hither for a greatlove, and that--that"--there was the sound of a sob in her throat as shepaused for a moment, then caught her breath and went on in the same eventone,--"and that was taken from me. And now--oh, God!--my child!"
She strained her arms tightly to her breast and laid her cheek, with agreat tenderness upon her thin, white hands, as if her little one wereresting there and she sought the comfort of his caress.
Father Johannes turned away his eyes: the low murmur of cooing tones ofmother-ecstasy came to him as in a dream. Was the child's angel reallythere?--He did not know.
"Now, oh holy _Mater Dolorosa_, _Mater Sanctissima_," he prayed withinhimself.--"I know what thou hast suffered; have mercy!"
* * * * *
There was no longer any sound in the room. She had dropped her arms ather side and had come nearer to him.
"Thou canst not know the depth of human suffering, Father Johannes, forthese things enter not into thy holy life--else couldst thou not passthy days in prayer and passionless meditation."
"Passionless!" he cried, and was silent, pressing his hand,unconsciously, against the thorny cross on his breast.
"I have sent for thee again, Father, to ask a question which thou alonecanst answer."
She lifted her troubled eyes to his, deep with her question that seemedthe more terrible because her quiet voice still showed no trace ofemotion.
"Thou, who knowest the ways of God----"
(He groaned aloud.)
"Hath He stricken me for any sin?"
Then suddenly the passion of her question flamed in her white face--shesearched his, as if life or death lay in his answer.
From the hand upon his breast the blood trickled in slow drops, while helaid the other upon her head in benediction:
"No--child--no," he gasped; "God help thee--no!"
"If--if it were for sin of mine," she said slowly, and watching him asif she had not known whether she might trust his words--"might I notleave the world, and take the veil in the Convent of the Holy Cross?"
"Thou?" he cried. "_Thou!_"
"Am I not fit?" she asked. "Is it not for those who suffer and wouldleave the world?"
He shook his head. "No; thou art beloved of the Holy Mother. The worldis thy cross. It is there that thou shalt do thy penance. The Convent isnot for thee."
"Father, I have no tears to offer in penance."
&
nbsp; "God asketh not tears if He hath denied them," he answered--his ownchoking his speech, "but the gift of what He hath given thee--to standwhere He hath placed thee and take up thy burden of life."
"Father, I have no strength, nor will."
"They will be sent thee," he answered her.
"God is not angry with me?" she asked again with sudden passion. "Thenwhy--_why_ did He take my child away--my little, little child?--and--_thus_?"
He looked at her startled. Had the terrible rumor reached her which theywere striving to keep from her, that the little, royal, innocent lifehad been the victim of some intrigue--that the sudden, fatal illness hadnot been sent by Heaven? The rumor had been sifted, and no clue had beenfound, while yet it might not be wholly dismissed. Yet was the fear ofthis horror added to the mother's anguish? Nothing but action would saveher from madness.
Then suddenly his weakness left him, because of her need; he felt thathe must hold her in her place at all costs. He rose and looked down uponher, steadying her by the magnetic strength in his face,--his eyes wildwith the intensity of his belief.
"Whom He loveth, He chasteneth," he said. "It is granted thee to knowthe depth of the meaning of those holy words. The blessed Christus, withgreat drops of anguish falling from His sacred brows, cried out, 'Canany sorrow be like my sorrow?' God is not angry with thee, my daughter;but so He fashioneth a soul for His great work. Life is thy cross, mychild. Lift it and clasp it--Heaven's peace shall be thine."
"Why not the Convent, Father?" she asked, still irresolute. "I am soweary."
Then his voice took on a note of authority--she shrank before it as thetones rang out like the cry of a prophet:
"It is not for thee; for thy place is here.
"If suffering is sent thee, thou must bear it here.
"If loneliness hath come to thee, thou shalt meet it here.
"If thou art desolate, the children of thy people are thine.
"If thy dream of love is broken, the love of thy people is about thee.
"If thy heart and hands are empty, the duties of thy realm shall fillthem.
"_Thou shalt keep thy vow!_
"Thou shalt make none other; none other may be so holy for thee.
"Thou hast tasted joy and found it bitter; in duty shalt thou findsweetness and strength.
"And the Lord thy God, and the Madonna and the Holy Christus shall blessthee. Amen.
"I have the revelation!"
The crisp sentences crashed upon each other like a rushing torrent, hotwith inspiration, challenging acceptance. She had risen to her feet andstood quivering before him, her eyes held to his by a strangefascination--the wild glow within his giving her sight of her dormantself and will.
He raised his crucifix above her and she slowly fell on her knees; andso he left her.