FOOD AT LAST--DEATH OF JULIO.
When Julio left the cellar for the purpose of procuring bread, Geronimo
cast himself on his knees, full of gratitude to God, to return thanks for
the unexpected deliverance.
Julio had said "soon," but an hour passed, then another, then many more,
and he came not.
A painful doubt began to take possession of Geronimo's mind. Had an
accident happened to Julio? Had he perhaps cruelly abandoned his victim?
Had he set out for Germany with the certainty that hunger would kill him
whom the dagger had spared?
The unfortunate cavalier had no means of measuring the flight of time.
What in the immutable darkness of his prison seemed to him a century,
might in reality be only a few hours, and the promised bread would soon
appear to his eyes as the star of safety--in a quarter of an hour, in a
minute--that very instant.
By such reflections Geronimo sought to endure patiently the pangs of
hunger. He put his ear to the keyhole and ceased breathing that he might
catch the slightest sound. Alas! hour after hour passed in unbroken
silence. Although Geronimo knew not whether it was day or night, his
increasing sufferings were to him a sure indication of the passage of
time. For a while he encouraged himself by the thought that Julio would
not bring him the promised bread until dawn, and that he would give him at
the same time food and liberty.
This hope by degrees diminished, and at last vanished entirely. The
suffering young man could not longer deceive either his body or his mind;
it became evident to him that the hour which he had hoped would restore
him to freedom had long passed.
He had been abandoned--devoted to a cruel martyrdom, a frightful death! He
was then to die in the midst of the torments of hunger--to die slowly in
indescribable suffering, and fall into the yawning grave prepared for him!
Struck with terror by the conviction thus forced upon him, the unfortunate
cavalier arose despairingly and ran panting and crying around the cellar,
as though he could thus escape the death which menaced him.
The pain of his wounds was increased by this violent and feverish
agitation. His breast heaved under his difficult respiration, but the
gnawing hunger which agonized him made these sufferings seem light.
Falling to the ground from exhaustion, he commenced, as soon as he had
gained a little strength, his struggle against the tortures of hungry. At
times his despair was cheered by the thought that even yet Julio might
come. But Julio was plunged by the influence of poison into a mortal
sleep, and in all probability would appear before Geronimo at the
judgment-seat of God.
Hoping against hope, the young man seated himself on the ground. The
violence of his sufferings seemed to abate and leave him at rest for a few
moments. His thoughts wandered to all he loved upon earth, but the respite
was of short duration. Soon the agony he endured drew from him piercing
cries. During his long martyrdom no torment had equalled the present. It
seemed as though he were being devoured by flames, or as if molten lead
were coursing through his veins.
He writhed in convulsions, beat his breast, and in heart-rending accents
called upon God for help. But nothing relieved his horrible sufferings.
He filled the air with his groans and screams, he beat the door with blind
fury, tore the flesh from his fingers in his useless efforts to make an
opening in his prison-walls, and ran from side to side as though the pangs
of hunger had driven him mad.
At last, exhausted and convinced that there was no escape, that he must
soon enter into his last agony, he threw himself upon the ground, bowed
his head and joined his hands in prayer, begging for resignation to meet
the death which would end his cruel martyrdom. His mind now appeared
clear, and he was perfectly conscious, for after a while he shed a torrent
of tears. His lips moved, giving utterance to confused sounds, but by
degrees his words became more distinct, and fixing his eye in the darkness
on the spot where he knew the grave had been dug, he said:
"No more hope! All is over. I must die! The grave yawns to receive me.
Alas! what a place for my mortal remains! Forgotten, unknown, concealed by
the darkness of a horrible crime! Not a tear will fall upon the tomb of
the unfortunate victim; not a cross will mark the spot where I lie; not a
prayer will be whispered over my body! Death approaches. Ah! I must not
thus cling to life; I will pray and lift my hands in supplication to God.
He alone--"
He stopped under the influence of a sudden emotion.
"Heavens! did I not hear a noise?"
He listened breathlessly for a time to catch the indistinct sound he
thought he had heard; but he was mistaken.
"Why should I hope, when hope is no longer possible? Let me rather seek
strength in the consideration of the better life which awaits me. The
death I endure will purify me from all my sins. If God, in His
impenetrable designs, has appointed this to be my earthly fate, He will,
in His mercy, take into account before his judgment-seat what I have
innocently suffered here below. Consoling hope, which, encourages me to
look with confidence into eternity!
"And yet my life was so happy! Everything in the world smiled upon me; my
path was strewn with roses; the future spread out before me like a
cloudless sky resplendent with stars. God had not only given me health,
fortune, and peace of heart, but also the hope of uniting my fate with
that of a lovely young girl. Mary Van de Werve! the incarnation of all
that men admire and heaven loves: virtue, piety, modesty, charity, beauty,
love! Alas! alas! must I leave all that? Must I say a last adieu, renounce
my hopes, and never see her again? Die and sleep forever in an unknown
tomb, while she lives!"
A cry of anguish escaped him. But it was caused rather by his train of
thought than by the adieu he had just spoken, for he added, in a suppliant
voice:
"Pardon, O Lord, pardon! Thy creature clings to life; but be not angry
with the weakness of my nature. Should I die by the terrible death of
starvation, I humbly accept Thy holy will, and I bless Thy hand which
deals the blow! God of mercy, grant that I may find grace with Thee!"
Calmed by this invocation, he resumed, with less emotion and in a tone
which proved that his soul had received consolation:
"And if I be permitted in my last hour to offer to Thee my supplications,
I pray Thee, O God of mercy, to spare my uncle, and let not my misfortune
deprive him also of life. He was my father and benefactor; he taught me to
live in the fear of Thy holy name. By the cruel sufferings which I endure,
by my terrible death, have pity on him! Let Thy angels also guard and
protect the pious and pure young girl who is before Thee as an immaculate
dove! Jesus, Saviour of mankind, on the cross you prayed to your heavenly
Father for those who crucified Thee. Demand not an account of my blood
from my enemy. Pardon him, lead him back to the path of virtue, and after
death grant him eternal rest! My strength fails; the sweat of death is on
my brow. O my God! in this, my last hour, grant me the grace to die with
Thy love alone in my heart, and Thy holy name alone upon my lips!"
The last words of this prayer had scarcely fallen from his lips, when he
cried aloud, arose trembling, and eagerly fixed his eyes upon the opposite
wall, upon which a faint streak of light flickered.
"O my God! what means this?" he exclaimed. "Light? light? a voice? Is some
one coming? Is there still hope? I shall not die! Cruel dream! Frightful
illusion! But no, it is indeed a light; it becomes brighter. I hear a
human voice. Alas! this suspense is worse than death!"
Tottering from weakness, and supporting himself by the sides of the wall,
he gained the door, and trembling between hope and fear, he put his eye to
the keyhole in order to discover who was approaching his person.
He saw in the distance a man with a lamp in his hand; but his gestures
were so strange, and his countenance so singular, that he was at a loss to
know whether it were a human being, or only a creation of his own
disordered brain.
Still he heard confused sounds in the passage; a voice seemed to complain,
curse, and call for aid.
By degrees the mysterious apparition drew nearer, and Geronimo recognized
the servant of Simon Turchi; but why was Julio writhing in such horrible
convulsions? Why was his face so horribly contorted? Why did he threaten
and rage in such harsh accents?
A horrible conviction forced itself upon Geronimo's mind. Julio had sought
in drink the courage necessary to accomplish the work which fate exacted
of him. He had thus drowned his senses, and had come now to slay his
victim without mercy.
The thought for the moment roused his fears; but he remembered that he had
just offered to God his life in expiation of his sins. He retired to the
other side of the cellar, knelt by the side of the grave, and with a smile
upon his lips and his eyes lifted to heaven, he calmly awaited the fatal
blow.
He heard Julio trying to insert the key in the lock as if his hand were
unsteady. He noticed that there was no finger in his tone of voice; on the
contrary, the cries which escaped him were rather those of alarm and
distress; but before he had time for reflection the door opened.
Julio put down the lamp as if his strength had entirely failed him, and
fell upon the ground, exclaiming in a supplicating voice:
"O signor, help, help! I am poisoned! A burning fire consumes me! Take
pity on me! For the love of God, deliver me from this torture!"
"Poisoned!" exclaimed Geronimo, hastening to Julio. "What has happened to
you? The mark of death is on your face!"
"Simon Turchi gave me last night poisoned wine, in order to destroy the
witness who could prove your death by his hand. He made me pay Bufferio to
assassinate you. He wishes to marry Mary Van de Werve, and he desires to
remove any cause of fear that his happiness may be disturbed. Ah! the
poison consumes me!"
"Tell me, Julio, what I can do for your relief."
Saying this, he knelt by Julio, and threw open his doublet to give him
air:
"Thanks, thanks, O my God! here is bread!" exclaimed Geronimo, almost wild
with joy, and snatching with feverish haste the small loaf which Julio had
concealed, and which he had entirely forgotten since his fatal stupor.
The young man, absorbed in satisfying his devouring hunger, no longer
heeded Julio's complaints, but having soon appeased its cravings, he took
his hands, saying:
"I bless you, Julio, and may the omnipotent God reward you in heaven. Tell
me what I can do to save you. Set me at liberty, and I will fly for
physician and priest. The keys--quick, the keys!"
"Alas!" said Julio, in a hopeless voice, "my cruel murderer took from me
the keys of the door. We are shut up in the building. But I cannot die
thus, consumed by poison, without confession, without hope of pardon for
my soul! Go up-stairs, signor, call aloud, break open the door, wrest the
iron bars from the windows. Collect all your strength, take pity on me and
help me!"
Geronimo seized the keys, and, lighted by the lamp, he hastily traversed
the subterranean passage, and mounted the staircase.
The gray dawn was appearing in the east, but to the eyes of the young man
so long accustomed to utter darkness it was almost as bright as noonday.
Convinced that Julio's condition demanded immediate aid, Geronimo hastily
tried all the keys in the exterior door, pulled all the bolts, endeavored
to wrench the door from the hinges, and worked with so much energy that at
last he fell from weakness.
Taking a short rest, he arose, threw up the windows, shook the iron bars,
ran up-stairs and called aloud for help. But all his efforts were
useless--the pavilion was too far removed from any habitation to permit
him to indulge the hope that his voice, weak as it was, could be heard.
In running through the building--almost maddened by despair--to seek an
outlet, he entered the kitchen, where he perceived a vessel full of water.
The sight filled him with joy. Perhaps water, taken in large quantities,
might deaden the effects of the poison and save Julio's life. At any rate,
he had no other remedy, and as it was his only hope, he grasped at it as
if it were an inspiration from heaven.
Filling a pitcher, he ran with it to the cellar, and radiant with joy,
approached Julio, who had barely strength to ask in a feeble voice:
"Is the priest coming? Will the doctor be here? Ah! it is too late!"
"Drink," said Geronimo, holding the pitcher to his lips; "the water will
cool the inflammation and refresh you."
Julio took the water.
"Thank you, signor; it is useless, the water does me no good."
"Take more, I beg you, Julio,--as much as you can."
Julio obeyed mechanically and nearly emptied the pitcher. His respiration
became very labored, and the sweat ran in big drops from his brow.
"Do you feel better, Julio?" asked the young man.
"A little better; the heat is not so burning."
"There is still hope!" exclaimed Geronimo, joyfully. "Take courage, Julio;
have confidence in the mercy of God. When all human aid fails us, then God
gives his omnipotent assistance."
"But," said Julio, "my heart beats so feebly, my limbs are benumbed.
Signor, I am dying. The poison is killing me."
"Die? Julio! You have delivered me from death, and shall I be powerless to
save you? What shall I do? O my God, what can I try?"
"Think no more of it, signor," said the dying man. "I feel that there is
no hope. Alas! I was partly the cause of your bitter sufferings: I pushed
you into the chair; I intended to kill you, the deliverer of my blind
mother! Take pity on me! Let not your just malediction follow my poor soul
into eternity. Pardon me, signor, pardon!"
"Speak not thus, Julio. But for you, that yawning grave would now cover my
corpse. Shall I refuse pardon to you who spared my life? No; I will pray
for you, I will give alms for the repose of your soul. Have confidence in
the goodness of God."
"Confidence?" said Julio, in a dying voice. "I shudder to think of the
judgment which awaits me. In this, my death agony, I see with frightful
clearness. I dare not hope in God's mercy. I have done nothing to merit
it. A dark veil is before my eyes."
The death-rattle was in his throat.
Geronimo passed his arm around his neck and raised his head, and seeing
Julio's eyes fixed upon him, he said, tenderly and fervently:
"Julio, listen to me! You say you dare not hope in the mercy of God' Have
you forgotten that Jesus Christ shed his blood to redeem fallen man? Do
you not know that there is joy before the angels when a sinner, by sincere
repentance, escapes the eternal enemy of man and enters triumphant into
heaven? You repent, do you not? You sincerely repent?"
Julio bowed affirmatively.
"Ah!" exclaimed Geronimo, "if I cannot save your body from death, at least
let me keep your soul from eternal torments. Oh! if I could thus repay the
debt of gratitude I owe you! Julio, were God to prolong your life, would
you renounce evil and return courageously and sincerely to the path of
duty and virtue? You say yes? You implore God's mercy, do you not? You
have confidence in the inexhaustible treasure of his goodness? Then,
Julio, raise your dying eyes to heaven, direct your last thoughts to Him
who is the source of all mercy, and with full confidence let your soul
wing its flight to the supreme tribunal. Already from the highest heaven
God absolves the repentant sinner!"
A triumphant hope illumined the countenance of Julio as he endeavored to
raise his eyes to heaven.
"Saved--his soul is saved!" exclaimed Geronimo, transported with a pious
joy.
A slight convulsion passed over the limbs of Julio, his muscles became
paralyzed, his head fell heavily on Geronimo's shoulder, and drawing his
last breath, he murmured, almost unintelligibly:
"Mercy! O my God!"
"He is dead!" said Geronimo. "May thy soul receive my fraternal embrace in
its passage to eternity! May this mark of reconciliation weigh in the
balance of eternal justice!"
He bent over the dead; but as if contact with the corpse had deprived him
of his little remaining strength, he fell as it were lifeless. Not a limb
moved, his arms dropped motionless, his eyes closed, it seemed that his
soul had also taken its flight to heaven to accompany the soul of Julio
before God's judgment seat.