Coming out into the air, she raised her eyes to heaven, where the stars had disappeared one by one, not like lights blown out by a gust of wind, but like sparks that are consumed within a greater fire:—thus human souls, emanations from the Divinity, set free from the flesh which bind them, love to mingle again in the great bosom of God. From the east a delicate veil of vapors tinted with gold surrounded beautiful Florence, like a Madonna of her immortal painters encircled by a radiated halo. Nature with all created things, as a harpist pours from the chords of his lyre a torrent of melody, raised to the Creator a morning hymn; there was no object nor being which either with a prayer, or a vow of the heart, or the happiness of a look, or with perfume, or with a song towards heaven, did not salute the Father of light, and an indistinct murmur was diffused forth and forth in the distance like a trepidation of the old mother Earth rejoicing in feeling her chilled bones warmed by the beneficial heat. Hail, O firstborn of the thought of God; hail, O Sun, for there is nothing dead before you, and everything breathes and revives, and from the very sepulchres where lay my beloved dead you bring out flowers, ornaments for the hair of young lovers, and loving maidens.
Isabella raised her eyes to heaven, and her smile returned upon her pale face; then turning her head to the spot where the sun was about rising, she thus spoke:
"How beautiful is life! But in order to enjoy it we must possess the youth of years, the youth of the heart, innocence, and enthusiasm; we must be able to stand the comparison with the odor of the flowers, with the songs of birds, with the varied tints of the wings of the butterfly, with the exultation of the first rays of the morn. O life! since I cannot enjoy thee as I could once, I will not suffer thee as I am: he who has ceased to reign let him throw aside his crown; the royal mantle left upon the shoulders of him who has no longer a kingdom, is a weight and an ignominy. But is death approaching, perhaps welcomed like the shadow of the tree to the traveller, who has walked from dawn over burning sands under the scourge of the sun? Do I approach it with the desire of the wearied laborer, who sees towards evening, by the uncertain gleam of twilight, appear in the distance the belfry of his village? Can I say to the grave: Thou art my bridegroom? Does peace await me beyond the threshold of life? Yes, peace awaits me, for I have loved, hoped, and suffered greatly. I repent of another sin, which is for having desired to put a mediator between myself and God. The priest has repulsed me from the temple: for me it is sufficient that thou, O Creator of all, dost not repulse me from heaven. I confess myself to Thee, O Lord! Thou hast no need of declarations, for with a look Thou hast seen through my heart, and penetrated even to its inmost recesses. I could wish that my spirit might fly towards Thee upon the first ray which is about to pour down from behind that mountain.... But if this cannot be, keep Thine arms open, O Lord, for it will not be long before I shall seek shelter under the mighty wings of Thy pardon."
The penitents around the confessional waited a long time for Father Marcello to return; but he did not appear; they went into the vestry to inquire about him: they sought in his cell, in the library, and through the convent, but they could not find him.
Feeling alarmed, the monks went round inquiring about him; some one said he thought he saw him in the street of Diluvio, with his hood drawn over his eyes, walking hastily, as if called to some death-bed; another said that he thought he saw him passing through Borgo a Pinti, so trembling in his walk, that often getting entangled in his gown, he was on the point of falling. Where, however, he had gone, all were ignorant, and could not even imagine. The astonishment increased, not without also a little fear. The Prior sent some zealous fathers of the order to inquire courteously of the guards of the gates: they went, they sought diligently, but no one was able to give any information about him. Meanwhile between searches, terror, and grief, the day had already passed; to which succeeded a few hours of the evening, and the monks were assembled in the refectory, some praying, some conversing; the boldest ones offered themselves to ascend upon the pulpits, and announce to the people the disappearance, and perhaps martyrdom, of Father Marcello; the timid ones advised waiting to inquire better into the matter, and not to hasten it: there were as many opinions as there were heads, as it always happens in an assemblage of men who meet to decide upon a doubtful event;—when suddenly there was heard a slight ring at the bell. They all rose to a man, for we always see the spirit of corporation to be very strong, and all went to the door. Who can describe the tears, the cries of joy, the hearty welcomes, the embraces, and the demonstrations of affection that broke forth from these brothers, when they saw re-appear their beloved Father Marcello? He replied to all, kissed and embraced all of them: sweet tears of gratitude ran down his cheeks; but his face appeared pale, and so deeply impressed with some internal grief, as to excite at the same time pity and fear.
He spoke briefly, and said:—that he had run a great danger; it was really a miracle that he was alive; he owed his life to the mercy of God, and certainly also to the prayers of his brothers: he thanked them from the bottom of his heart, and begged them to be pleased to accompany him to church to render thanks to the Almighty, that with so visible aid had saved him from so imminent a danger.
They went, and thanked God; afterwards Father Marcello closeted with the Prior, and having discussed the matter, and the consequences, thought best to gain time, in order to avoid scandal, and keep himself aloof, that no evil may happen to him and to the Order. He was sent to Rome, in order to inform the Pope of the manner in which the ministers of the Church were abused, and that he might inquire into it; and then returning with the help of the Pontiff to preach against these false Catholics, who committed such nefarious acts, that the Lutherans themselves would be ashamed of it.
It was Titta, who, conducting the friar unharmed to the convent, had kept faithfully his word.