'Sister Caterina,' he said, 'I do not know how it is, but heavenly
consolation has come to me. In God's name I will prepare for death. Now
you may send for the priests and monks; now I will confess to them. But
one thing you must promise me before you go: you must come to me
to-morrow, when I shall die, and hold my head between your hands as you
are doing now.'
When he said this she burst into tears, from a great feeling of relief,
and an unspeakable joy filled her.
'How happy you must be, Nicola Tungo!' she said. 'You will be in
Paradise before I am;' and she stroked his face gently.
He said again:
'You will come to me to-morrow in the Market Place? Perhaps I shall
otherwise be afraid; perhaps I cannot otherwise die with steadfastness.
But when you are there I shall feel nothing but joy, and all fear will
leave me.'
'You do not seem to me any more as a poor mortal,' she said, 'but as a
dweller of Paradise. You appear to me radiant with life, surrounded by
incense. Bliss comes to me from you, who shall so soon meet my beloved
Bridegroom. Be assured I shall come.'
She then led him to confession and the Communion. He felt the whole time
as if he were asleep. All the fear of death and the longing for life had
passed away from him. He longed for the morning, when he should see her
again; he thought only of her, and of the love with which she had
inspired him. Death seemed to him now but a slight thing compared with
the pain of the thought that she would never love him.
The young maiden did not sleep much during the night, and early in the
morning she went to the place of execution, to be there when he came.
She invoked Jesu, Mother, Marie, and the Holy Caterina of Egypt, virgin
and martyr, incessantly with prayers to save his soul. Incessantly she
repeated: 'I will that he shall be saved--I will, I will.' But she was
afraid that her prayers were unavailing, for she did not feel any longer
that ecstasy which had filled her the evening before; she only felt an
infinite pity for him who should die. She was quite overcome with grief
and sorrow.
Little by little the Market Place filled with people. The soldiers
marched up, the executioner arrived, and much noise and talking went on
around her; but she saw and heard nothing. She felt as if she were quite
alone.
When Nicola Tungo arrived, it was just the same with him. He had no
thought for all the others, but saw only her. When he saw at the first
glance that she was entirely overcome with sorrow, his face beamed, and
he felt almost happy. He called loudly to her:
'You have not slept much this night, maiden?'
'No,' she said; 'I have watched in prayer for you; but now I am in
despair, for my prayers have no power.'
He knelt down before the block, and she knelt so that she could hold his
head in her hands.
'Now I am going to your Bridegroom, Caterina.'
She sobbed more and more.
'I can comfort you so badly,' she said.
He looked at her with a strange smile.
'Your tears are my best comfort.'
The executioner stood with his sword drawn, but she bade him with a
movement stand on one side, for she would speak a few words with the
doomed man.
'Before you came,' she said, 'I laid my head down on the block to try if
I could bear it; and then I felt that I was still afraid of death, that
I do not love Jesus enough to be willing to die in this hour; and I do
not wish you to die either, and my prayers have no power.'
When he heard this he thought: 'Had I lived I should have won her'; and
he was glad he should die before he had succeeded in drawing the radiant
heavenly bride down to earth. But when he had laid his head in her
hands, a great consolation came to them both.
'Nicola Tungo,' she said, 'I see heaven open. The angels descend to
receive your soul.'
A wondering smile passed over his face. Could what he had done for her
sake make him worthy of heaven? He lifted his eyes to see what she saw;
the same moment the sword fell.
But Caterina saw the angels descend lower and lower, saw them lift his
soul, saw them carry it to heaven.
* * * * *
All at once it seemed so natural that Caterina Benincasa has lived all
these five hundred years. How could one forget that gentle little
maiden, that great loving heart? Again and again they must sing in her
praise, as they are now singing in the small chapels:
'Pia Mater et humilis,
Naturæ memor fragilis,
In hujus vitæ fluctibus
Nos rege tuis precibus.
Quem vidi, quem amavi,
In quem credidi, quem dilexi,
Ora pro nobis.
Ut digni efficiamur promessionibus Christi!
Santa Caterina, ora pro nobis!'[B]
[B] Pious and gentle Mother, thou who knowest our weak nature, guide
us by thy prayers through this life's vicissitudes. Thou, whom I saw
and loved, in whom I believed and whom I adored, pray for us, that we
may be worthy of Christ's promises. Holy Caterina, pray for us!
_From a Swedish_ HOMESTEAD