"This mortal life was to me as a prison, and yet I clung to its dark walls, for I saw nothing beyond but purgatory fires, which made the thought of death a terror. I knew myself to be guilty in the sight of God, and I could not recognize a compassionate Father in the awful Judge before whom I trembled. My service had been that of a slave, my sufferings were those of a slave; far more galling than the iron which fettered my limbs was that which entered into my soul."
"And how long did this misery last?"
"Not long," replied the Italian. "I and my companions in punishment were chained by two and two in the galleys, and on the third day of my labors, I was coupled with a man whose demeanor at once struck me as different from that of the other prisoners. He was not old in years, but his form was bowed by suffering and sorrow, and white as silver were his locks and the beard which descended almost to his girdle. He looked so calm and resigned in the dignity of conscious innocence, that even the first glance convinced me that no criminal was at my side. Had I been in a less gloomy and despondent mood, I should have questioned by new companion; but I had lost all interest in life, all care for what was passing around me.
"Even when Marino (such was his name) spoke a few words of kindly greeting to his partner in misfortune, I only bowed my head in reply, and preserved a moody silence. I thought that the galley-slave pitied me, and my proud heart shrank from pity, even when I needed it most.
"Our toil on that day was severe. We had to row at our utmost speed, hour after hour, under the burning rays of the sun, which were reflected with dazzling glare from the waters. I felt as if the unwonted and protracted labor were drawing my very life away, and I saw that my comrade, who was weaker, suffered yet more than myself. The beaded drops were upon his brow and his lip, and he bent over his oar as if every stroke might be his last. While we were painfully toiling on, a gay cavalier, stretched at ease in the stern of our galley, was humming a light lay of love, or quaffing cool draughts of sparkling wine. He took no notice of the exhausted rowers, except to express impatience at the slow progress which they made.
"At length the keel grated on the shore, we lifted our oars, and the cavalier stepped on the beach. There were gay friends to welcome him there, and take him with them to cool orange groves and glittering fountains, towards which we wearily turned our longing eyes. There with fair and high-born ladies, would he enjoy the feast, the dance, and the song, while we sat thirsty, weary, neglected—the very outcasts of mankind.
"My companion addressed me again, in a voice so faint that I could at first scarcely catch his meaning. 'Is it not well, my son,' he murmured, 'that there is One who hath said:
"'"Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest?"'
"The words sounded strange to me, and I replied with sullen despair, 'There is no rest for me—no, not even in the grave!'
"'Then you have never yet come to Him, never yet found the Savior,' said Marino; 'you have not yet accepted His invitation; perhaps till this day you never heard it.'