My aspect terrified him, and he screamed on his father and Paula to save him.
"Paula!" said I, shaking him again, "thy devilish tongue hath destroyed Paula and me too!"
"Spare me," said he, whimpering and smiling; "and pretty sister Paula will kiss you for my sake."
"Anathema upon thee!" His words redoubled my fury, and I spat on him. The cascade roared beside me, the deepest solitude was around us, hell was in my heart, and the devil guided my hand; I launched the screaming child from the rocks: headlong he fell through the air, and vanished in the cloudy spray of the vast abyss. The bright sun became suddenly obscured by a cloud, and a deeper gloom stole over the dell of Fana: the ruined tower seemed a monstrous head, and its windows invidious eyes looking down on me—the landscape swam around, and I heard a cry of murder above the roar of the cascade. The yell of a lynx completed my terror, and I rushed in frenzy from the spot. * * *
I was in my dormitory; the darkness of night was in my soul and all around me: overwhelmed with an excess of horror for my wanton crime, I spent the night in the agonies of penance and prayer, and making mental vows to sin no more. Had the universe been mine, I would have given it that Rosario might be restored to life. O, that I could have lived the last day over again, or have blotted it for ever from my mind! But, alas! the strong and dark fiend had marked me for his own. Through the silence of the still calm night, came the rush of the distant river: there was madness in the sound; but I could not exclude it, and the cry of the poor child mingled ever with its roar. Humble in spirit, and contrite in heart, at morning matins I bowed down in prayer among the brotherhood. The sublime symphonies of the hymn Veni Creator, or of the litanies of our lady of Loretto, the song of the choir and the mellifluous strain of the organ, rang beneath the vaulted dome like the voice of God and the knell of death; and yet they spoke of hope—hope to the repentant—and I prostrated myself before the altar: tears burst from my eyes, and the fire of my heart was assuaged.
I left the monastery to seek some calm solitude, wherein to pour forth my soul in secret prayer; but my evil genius was beside me, and guided me to detection and disgrace. I wandered on, but knew not and cared not whither; wishing only to fly from the haunts of men and my own burning thoughts. Vain idea! Rosario, as he sank among the spray, his sister's tears, his father's sorrow, were ever before me, and I looked upon myself with horror.
"Good father!" cried a voice, disturbing my dreadful reverie; "O, reverend signor, help, in the name of the Blessed Trinity!"
I started with dismay—what did I behold? The white-haired veteran, Batello, bearing in his arms the dripping corpse of Rosario, while Paula clung to him overcome with sorrow and terror. Even the venerable goatherd, whose crook had fished up the dead child, was moved to tears; while I, the cause of the calamity, looked on with unmoved visage. Was it an index of my mind? O, no! a serpent was gnawing my heart: I could have screamed with agony; and my breath came close and thick. I trembled and panted while Batello spoke.
"Fra Lancelloti," said he, "thou comest upon me in an hour of deep woe, when I have much need of godly consolation; but not from thy lips. A week ago we quarrelled: I know the weakness of the human heart, and from the bottom of my soul forgive thee; for in this terrible moment I cannot look on any man with anger. Pass on, in the name of God! for thy presence is—I know not why—peculiarly hateful to me at this moment. Many a dead face have I looked upon by breach and battlefield, but thou—my Rosario—thy mother—" and the old soldier kissed his dead child, and wept bitterly.
The goatherd, who had been observing me narrowly, now whispered in Batello's ear. His eyes glared, and relinquishing the body, with one hand he grasped his sword, with the other my throat.