"Alas! alas! for what a man have I lost the honor of a woman, the dignity of a princess, and my own salvation!..."
It was a clear and serene night in July; the stars revolved in their celestial spheres, pouring a dew of light upon this earth, which does not deserve such smiles of love. The times, places, things, and men, which you saw then, ye pure rays of light, have returned dying from whence they had sprung before their birth: many and many more men and centuries shall you see; but will that light which emanated from you last for ever, or, like all other fires, will it be extinguished? It is written, that one day God will shatter into atoms, never again to meet, this mass of bloody clay which we call earth; and it will be well, for we almost wish that it had already happened: but it is also written, that your loving eyes shall be extinguished, and God will close your eyelids like maidens dead in the midst of the joys of life. The voice of the Eternal, like unto the roaring of a thousand oceans in the storm, will return to peal throughout the endless solitude of darkness and abyss. Of so immense a variety of created things there will not remain an echo, nor a memory, nor even a shadow;—as the eye seeks, and finds not the drop fallen into the sea; as the eye seeks, and finds not the star which falls from the firmament in summer nights; so time will be hurled into the depth of eternity;—this terrible mother will smother her child pressed in her arms, and will bury him in her bosom. Oh, Lord! How can man, thinking on the death of the stars, foster evil designs in his heart? Thousands of ages will pass away before the stars will cease to proclaim in the heavens the glories of God;—and thousands of ages before this shall happen, this body of mine, separated into innumerable particles, will be laid waste through the kingdoms of nature. Nevertheless, thinking that one day you must perish also, beautiful lights of love, my spirit is disheartened, and it seems an almost impossible thing to conceive, how men, creatures of a moment, meeting upon this earth which passes away with them, instead of raising their hands in enmity against each other, should not exchange friendly greetings, and disappear into eternity;—a light shadow fleeting away, but at least a happy one.
On such a night, a man creeping like a snake, his body shrinking, grazing the walls, hiding himself in the thickest darkness, and raising his head sometimes to imprecate the distant ray with which the stars smiled upon this miserable earth, hastened towards a certain place. This place was the convent of Santa Croce. Arriving at the gate of the cloister, he pulled the bell-rope softly, restraining the ardent desire he felt to give it so strong a pull as to awaken the whole convent: he stood listening through the cracks of the door, and as he heard no one moving, he rang again: and he repeated it thus four or six times, and was beginning to lose all patience, when he thought he heard footsteps approaching; he then, assuming a devotional attitude, stood waiting composedly. A bold hand opened the door deliberately: and, considering the times, it was not a little boldness, for they lived in such suspicion then, that to open at such a late hour would have required many signs and explanations, as is the custom in a besieged fortress; at the same time a bold yet pleasing voice said:
"Deo gratias: what do you desire in the holy name of God...."
"Reverend Father," replied the unknown, "God at this moment is calling to Himself a great sinner. As all knots come to the comb, thus in this hour return to his mind all his crimes committed, and he despairs of the Divine mercy, curses the day and hour in which he was born, and is running the imminent danger of dying unrepentant...."
"Unhappy he, because he has sinned; more unhappy still, because he despairs of the Lord's mercy!..."
"Indeed I tried to persuade him that it was so; but as I am ignorant of divinity, I saw that my words had but little effect: nevertheless, I did not cease praying with him, and strove to console him by saying—that at last all would be settled rightly, and that God, who is old, has seen so many and many crimes, that now He cannot be so very particular about them, and that a good repentance, but of the real kind, would wash out more sins than perhaps his own...."
"Certainly, the power of repentance is very great, and God as a good shepherd labors principally after the lost sheep."
"But the dying man said:—Who would dare to present my soul to God, without fearing that He would cover His eyes with His hands? Who will utter for me one prayer, without fearing the gates of heaven will be closed in his face? Only one ... only one just man I know in the world, who could inspire me with a hope of faith ... but it is too late ... he would not come ... at this hour he is refreshing with a short rest his limbs worn out in the service of God.... Alas, it is too late!—And uttering piteous cries, he tossed raving upon the bed. Finally, I succeeded with pain to extract from his mouth the name of this venerable man, who it cannot be denied is a most holy and learned one, for he is the Reverend Father Marcello, whom may God always keep prosperous and happy.—And although it was a late hour, yet I thought best for me to come for him, hoping the grace may be granted me of contributing towards the salvation of a sinful Christian...."