THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER FROM ROME.
When the car reached the summit, the priest stepped out, and the boys
followed.
“Here,” he said, stepping up to the parapet and making a sweep around
the horizon with one arm, “you have one of the grandest views in
Europe. It is not as extensive as the view from the Eiffel Tower in
Paris, and of course there is not such a wilderness of buildings around
us. But here you have what is lacking there, a great body of water
for a background. You do not see much of the Mediterranean from this
terrace, because the remainder of the hill is in the way; we still have
a considerable part of the hill to climb, you know. But from the level
of the church there is a grand view of the sea.”
“There could hardly be a better view of the city, sir, than there is
from here,” Kit answered. “The entire place seems to be just below us,
and the hills by which it is enclosed. The Old Port looks from here
like a little pond. But I can make out our ship very plainly, though
she looks like a toy boat from this distance. It is the third steamer
from the end, on this side, sir.”
“Ah, then you are sailors, are you?” the priest asked. “And I know from
your manner of speech that you are Americans.”
“Not exactly sailors, sir,” Harry said, thinking it time for him to
take a little part in the conversation. “Mr. Silburn is supercargo of
that steamer he showed you, the _North Cape_, and I am the cabin
boy.”
“Then you have a great opportunity to see many parts of the world,” the
priest answered. “But in all your travels you will hardly see anything
more unusual than the church we are about to visit. There are other
churches on hilltops, but none with as many curious phases as this. I
have remained for several weeks in Marseilles solely for the sake of
becoming well acquainted with it.”
“Then you do not live in Marseilles, sir?” Kit asked. “I suppose that
according to the custom of the country we ought to call you ‘father’;
but we are Americans and Protestants, and not accustomed to such
things.”
“It is not of the least consequence,” the priest answered, with a
smile. “I would not have you depart from what you believe to be right.
It is not a good plan to be Protestant in America and a Catholic in
Europe and a Mohammedan in Turkey, and a Confucian in China. Whatever
you are, stick to it wherever you go. No,” he went on, “I do not live
in Marseilles. My home overlooks this same beautiful blue sea, but it
is many leagues from here. I live in Rome.”
“We need not linger here,” the priest continued, “for the view is much
broader from the church. Come this way, and we will ascend to the
summit.”
He led the way under a heavy stone arch to a long, broad stone viaduct,
like a bridge, extending from the column of masonry to the hill beyond.
Then the wide stone walk went up, up, with occasional flights of five
or six steps. At the further end of this was a longer flight of stone
steps, then a turn and another flight, and they were in front of the
entrance to a solid stone fort, with a soldier on guard at the gate.
At this level the gale was so strong that they could hardly keep their
feet. But still they kept on, up more stone steps, till they came to
the portico of the church.
“We seem to be the only visitors this afternoon,” the priest said,
“though generally there are a number of persons here. I suppose they do
not like the high wind.”
Instead of ascending the last flight of steps, leading to the interior
of the church, they turned to the left on a broad stone promenade
extending around the building. On one side of this was a low stone
house with several doors, and over one of the doors a sign bearing the
words, “Café, chocolat, vins fins et ordinaire, spiriteaux, tabac.”
“Look at the gin-mill!” Harry exclaimed. “Who ever heard of a--” But he
recollected himself before he went any further, and stopped suddenly.
“Do not stop on my account,” the priest said, with a low, pleasant
little laugh. “It looks odd to you, I know, to see a liquor shop
attached to a church. But every country has its own customs, you know.
And here the conditions are very unusual. This is not only a church,
but a fort too, as well as a signal station. All the ships that enter
the harbor are signalled from the poles on the other side of the
building.”
When they turned the corner, they had a beautiful view of the
Mediterranean for many miles, and the harbor with its forts and
breakwater, and the long range of minor hills and valleys lying between
the city and its encircling mountains.
“This little house, I believe,” the priest said as they turned again,
pointing to a small stone building that stood on the edge of the
promenade, almost overhanging the precipice, “is for the use of the
clergy attached to the church. But I have not made the acquaintance of
any of them, so I cannot take you in. Perhaps we had better go up now
into the church.”
They stopped, however, in front of the church door while the priest
pointed out the moat, crossed by a heavy drawbridge, which they had
come over without noticing.
“On account of the fort it was necessary to make the church capable of
defence also,” he explained. “In case of need the church could make
a very strong defence, with the bridge drawn up. I think you have no
fortified churches in your country?”
[Illustration: “THEY HAD A BEAUTIFUL VIEW OF THE MEDITERRANEAN.”]
“No, sir,” Kit replied; “I never saw one before. There are a great many
things in Europe that we do not have in America.”
“Ah, but you are modest about it!” the priest laughed. “You have also a
great many things there that we do not have here.”
As they ascended the inner steps they found a little shop on each side
of the entrance, kept by elderly women who were evidently sisters of
some order, as they were clad from head to foot in white nuns’-cloth.
The goods they sold were crosses, medallions, strings of beads,
pictures of the church, and other sacred emblems. And just outside, in
full view, was the office where masses for the repose of the souls of
the dead could be arranged for and the bills paid, and where large and
small candles for church use were also sold.
A big doorway on the first landing opened into a crypt or lower chapel;
but the iron gate across was locked, and they went up another flight
of steps to the church proper--a church of no unusual size, but one of
the handsomest and most artistic in France, with walls and pillars of
marble, red jasper, and other costly materials. Near the doors were
two large stands with innumerable holders for candles, in which many
were burning, some as tall as a man, others not much larger than the
ordinary household candles.
The priest had pointed out the curious toy ships hanging from the
ceiling, all offerings from mariners who had been delivered from
peril; the hundreds of tablets on the walls, “like peppermint lozenges
with blue borders,” as Harry whispered to Kit; and the costly altar
decorations, when he suddenly stopped and looked at his watch.
“I think we had better go out a moment,” he said, “and learn how late
the ascenseurs run. It would be awkward to be left up here after they
had made their last trip for the night.”
When they reached the stone promenade they saw several men running at
great speed toward the ascenseurs; but whether something had happened
or whether the men were trying to catch the car, was more than they
could tell. The priest, however, asked the attendant who sat near the
church door, and so learned the truth.
“There is some trouble with the ascenseurs,” he explained, after a
short conversation in French with the attendant. “Not exactly an
accident, but some part of the engine was broken down, and they cannot
run till it is repaired. They think all will be in order again in half
an hour, so we need give ourselves no uneasiness about it.”
“That is a capital illustration of the fallibility of all things
human,” he continued, as they stepped back out of the wind. “Those
ascenseurs are supposed to be as nearly perfect as such mechanism can
be made. It was thought that nothing could possibly happen to them.
They operate on what is known as the ‘water balance’ system. As one car
goes down the other goes up; and there is a water tank under each car.
Before a car starts from the top, its tank is filled with water by an
engine that forces the water up through a pipe, and the added weight of
the water makes it so much heavier that it easily draws the other car
up. Then there are four large wire cables attached to each car, besides
the usual devices for bringing the cars to a stop in case the cables
should break. That looks as if every possible danger had been guarded
against, doesn’t it? Yet some trifling thing about the engine gives
way, and the whole beautiful mechanism is for the time made useless.
You will find all through life, my boys, that no matter how carefully
you lay your plans, they will sometimes miscarry. It is only those
things that the great Creator arranges for us that always go right.
This solid church may crumble, but the skies above it will still be as
blue, the wind still sweep as furiously across the summit of this hill.
Remember that, my children. Whether you follow the faith that I love,
or the newer forms that I hope you love equally well, you must find in
the end that all rests upon the one foundation, the great Creator who
makes no mistakes, whose love is eternal, who doeth all things well.”
Kit looked up in surprise to hear a priest speak in this way. There
were few Catholics in his part of Fairfield County, and he had never
given the subject much attention; but from what he had heard of them he
rather imagined that they--well, not that they would eat him exactly,
or insist upon burning candles in front of his face, but that at any
rate they would not be likely to see good in any religion except their
own. But this man was very different from the hazy ideas he had had
of Catholic priests. He did not look or speak like a bigot. As Kit
examined his face more closely he thought it one of the most kindly
and most intellectual faces he had ever seen. And certainly he was a
man of great knowledge. Whatever subject came up in the conversation,
he was familiar with. He had even talked about the management of a
steamship as knowingly as if he had been a sailor. He spoke English
and French with equal ease; as a priest he must also speak Latin; and
as a resident of Rome he must speak Italian. Kit noticed, too, that
although his outer clothing was shaped in the usual priestly fashion,
it was made of very fine materials. His boots were delicate and highly
polished.
The greater part of the half-hour they spent in examining the curious
objects in the church, and what the boys did not understand the priest
explained to them. He was an invaluable guide and a pleasant companion,
and they were sorry when he said that they had better go out again to
see whether the ascenseurs were yet running.
They were surprised to find that it was pitch dark when they went out
into the air, for the church was lighted with gas. And the wind had
increased and was blowing even a worse gale than before. They groped
their way down the steps as far as the entrance to the fort, and the
priest held a short conversation with the guard.
“He says the break has proved more serious than was thought,” their
guide said, “and the ascenseurs will not be able to move for several
hours. But workmen are busy making repairs, and they will be in running
order again some time during the evening. So under the circumstances I
think it will be safer for us to wait. Of course there is a path down
the hill, as I know to my cost, for I walked down it a few days ago,
lost my way, and had to do more climbing than I have done since I was
about your age. But it would be extremely difficult and dangerous in
this darkness, and on such a night. We cannot well wait so long in
the church; but if you will come with me, I will see whether I cannot
induce the authorities to give us more comfortable quarters.”
“You must not put yourself to any trouble on our account, sir,” Kit
answered, though he was rather pleased at the idea of spending a few
hours more with so agreeable a companion, as well as with having
another little adventure on his second night in Marseilles. “We can get
along very well in any sheltered place; and as you are a stranger here
it might put you to some inconvenience.”
“I am not a stranger in any church dedicated to the Holy Mother of
God,” the priest answered; and from the movement of his hands the boys
imagined that he was crossing himself, though it was too dark for them
to see. And he spoke as if he felt as sure of finding a welcome there
as though he were about to open the door of his own house.
The priest led the way up the steps again to the church door, and said
a few words in French to the attendant, which of course the boys did
not understand. But as he drew a silver card-case from an inner pocket
and handed a card to the man, they rightly judged that he was inquiring
for the clergyman in charge, and sending his card to him.
“I did not intend to introduce myself in Marseilles,” he said, after
the man had disappeared with the card; “but my poor old throat is too
weak to risk long exposure on such a night, and I must find shelter.
And you shall share it with me, for I am your guide, philosopher, and
friend on this occasion. You need not be surprised at anything you may
see. You are in the house of God, and in company of one of the humblest
of his servants.”
Kit would have given a great deal for a chance to exchange a few
words with Harry. But as that was impossible he had to do his own
thinking unassisted. He began to feel somehow as if he was on the
brink of another adventure, perhaps stranger even than the night in
Louis-Philippe’s cell. This was no ordinary priest, he was sure.
Instead of acting like a man asking for shelter, he seemed rather to be
waiting for something that he was entitled to.
And what could he mean by telling them not to be surprised at anything
they might see? Surprised! the boys were surprised enough already.
Their weird surroundings thrilled them. The hill of Notre-Dame, with
all its strange accessories, is thrilling under the broad noonday sun;
but on this night of inky darkness, with the lights of Marseilles
twinkling far beneath them, and the church walls, though solid as the
fort itself, trembling under the thundering blasts of the gale, it was
enough to stir the blood of older men than Kit or Harry, without the
addition of a mysterious priest warning them against surprise.
In a few minutes they heard footsteps coming down one of the long,
gloomy aisles, and the attendant returned, accompanied by a priest
dressed precisely like their companion, except that he carried no
hat. He looked around for a moment in the semi-darkness, this second
priest, approached the little group, and immediately dropped upon his
knees before the stranger. As he did so, the latter put out both hands
as if to help him rise, and the boys noticed that their companion had
removed his gloves, that his hands were beautifully small and white,
and that upon one of his fingers was a large and sparkling seal ring.
The kneeling priest took the hands in his and either kissed one of them
or kissed the ring, it was impossible to tell which.
The boys disobeyed instructions at once. They were both surprised
already.
Before rising the priest received the benediction from the newcomer,
and in another moment they were conversing in Latin; not, it seemed
to Kit, like equals talking together, but more like an inferior
speaking to a superior. The conversation lasted for some minutes;
and at its conclusion the priest of the church, with a profound bow,
led the way down the steps, across the stone promenade, and into the
small house in which, as their guide had told them, the clergy made
their headquarters. It was not, as the boys soon saw, a place where
the priests lived, but simply where they could sit and read and make
themselves comfortable while waiting for the numerous services during
the day and evening; and an adjoining room, the door of which stood
open when they entered, was evidently devoted to the uses of the
sisters in white.
The room was in darkness at first, but the priest began to light the
wax candles that seemed to be kept more for ornament than use, and
it was soon bright as day. He drew up chairs for the visitor and his
companions, and then, with many low bows, excused himself and went out.
The apartment looked somewhat bare, but its scant furniture was heavy
and solid.
“This will answer our purpose while we are detained here,” their friend
said when they were alone. “I have asked them to let us have a fire,
for the wind makes the air chilly.”
In an incredibly short time, the priest returned with a number of
attendants, each bearing a load of some kind--attendants, who were
evidently young men in training for the priesthood, for they all wore
semi-priestly costumes. Two of them carried a large and handsomely
carved armchair from the church. Another had a large purple cloth over
his arm. Another bore a footstool, and still another brought an armful
of wood.
Surprising as all this was, the boys were still more surprised to see
that each person as he entered the room immediately dropped upon his
knees, and rose only when their guide motioned them to do so, which he
did immediately. The two with the big chair had to set it down before
they could kneel; but the young man with the armful of wood had the
hardest time getting down and up again.
The big chair was placed by the side of the hearth, and with the heavy
purple cloth thrown over it, and the footstool in front, it began
to look, the boys thought, very much like a throne. But their guide
seated himself in it as readily as if a throne was his customary seat,
and talked in Latin again with the priest, while one of the young men
started a blazing fire. When the priest withdrew again, as he did in a
few minutes, accompanied by the young men, it was with many low bows,
and walking backward toward the door.
“Some of them are going to break their necks if this thing keeps on,”
Harry said to himself. He was fairly tingling for a chance to talk to
Kit, but that was still impossible. “But I’d like to know what sort of
a Grand High Panjandrum this is we’re travelling with. It must be an
awful nuisance to be such a big gun that people have to get down on
their knees to you. Why, I don’t believe you have to kneel when you go
to see the Governor of Connecticut; no, nor the President.”
“They are going to bring us some trifling refreshment,” their guide
said, “as we shall lose our dinners through this accident to the
ascenseurs.” Then seeing that the boys hardly knew how to conduct
themselves in what was for them a very awkward situation, he skilfully
led them into conversation. How long had they been in Marseilles, and
what had they seen?
Kit was soon started with the story of their visit to the Castle
d’If and what befell them there, in which their friend was very much
interested. Then he was led on and on, almost without knowing it, to
tell something of his own history; and that took him naturally to the
disappearance of his father, and the possibility that he might be the
strange man in the New Zealand hospital.
“It is a great trial to be kept in such suspense,” their guide said;
“but whatever comes of it you must always feel that it is for the best.
I am glad to know that I may perhaps be of a little assistance to you
in such a matter. We may never meet again, but I shall be happy if I
can give you cause to remember your visit to Notre-Dame-de-la-Garde
with the stranger from Rome. I have a very dear friend in New Zealand
who may be of the greatest assistance to you in identifying the man in
the hospital, or in providing suitably for him if he proves to be your
father--as indeed I hope he may. I will give you a line to my friend,
and you must not hesitate to use it if occasion arises.”
He took from an inner pocket, as he spoke, a small letter-case with
silver clasp and corners, opened it, and with the fountain pen it
contained wrote a brief letter, resting the case upon his knee,
enclosed it in an envelope which he addressed, and handed it to Kit.
“If you should go to New Zealand to make inquiries for yourself,” he
said, “do not fail to present it, or if you send it by mail, write a
letter of your own to accompany it, explaining the case. You will find
it of use to you.”
“Thank you very much, sir,” Kit answered, as he took the letter. “I
cannot tell what will be best to do till we hear from the consul there.”
The letter-case was hardly restored to its place before the priest
returned, bringing again several attendants who carried a large tray
loaded with silver eating and drinking utensils, a silver urn of
steaming tea, bread, meats, cakes, fruit, nuts, and cheese. Again they
all went through the kneeling process; and they were shortly followed
by several more priests, who were duly introduced to the distinguished
visitor.
While they were eating, all the priests and attendants withdrew; and
the “they” included the boys as well as the stranger, for he had
thoughtfully asked for food for his friends as well as for himself.
After a suitable interval the priests returned, kneeling as before, the
tray was removed, and the priests, at the stranger’s bidding, drew up
chairs, and a conversation followed, sometimes in Latin, sometimes in
French.
The boys could easily see that they were as much of a mystery to the
priests as the whole thing was to them. Here were two young men, whose
dress showed that they were not in holy orders, who did not even speak
the language of the country, but who sat and talked and ate with the
distinguished stranger as if with an equal; who did not kneel to him,
did not even bow when they stood before him, but spoke to him and asked
him questions as freely as if he had been their father. If the boys
could have understood a few words of the conversation, their situation
would have been much less awkward; but it was all as bad as Greek to
them, and they could do nothing but sit and listen.
For the next hour or two the priests were in and out, bowing themselves
out backwards always as they retired, kneeling always as they entered;
and in the intervals the boys enjoyed the conversation of their guide,
who had been in many countries and had seen many strange things. He had
been in America, much to their delight, and could tell them more than
they knew about New York and Boston. He had been in Bridgeport, too;
but when they asked whether he had been in Huntington he smiled and
shook his head.
There was no need now to make inquiries about the repairs to the
ascenseurs, for every priest who entered the room had something to say
about the progress of the work, and the visitor kept the boys informed
in English. They would be running again in an hour; in half an hour; in
ten minutes. Then came the news that they were running, but would make
a few trips first to be sure of their safety. It was between eleven and
twelve o’clock when they were told that all was in readiness for them
to descend.
Outside the door of the little house were two young attendants with
lanterns; and the priests themselves were there to take their visitor
by the arms and help him down through the stormy darkness to the
ascenseurs. And four priests went down with them in the car; and in the
pavilion at the bottom the whole four fell upon their knees around the
stranger to receive his benediction before he left them. And a handsome
carriage was waiting (the priests had taken care of that), in which the
stranger insisted that the boys should drive with him into the city.
“I am staying at the Hôtel de Louvre et de la Paix,” he said, “so it
will be directly in my way to set you down at the Old Port where your
ship lies.”
He bade them a fatherly good-by when they got out, and they climbed
aboard the _North Cape_ in the darkness.
“Just pinch me, will you, Kit,” Harry said, when they were safely on
deck. “I don’t know whether I’m a cabin boy or a sort of graven image
on that big altar.”
Captain Griffith was still up and reading, and he called the boys into
his room.
“You made a long visit to that church,” he said. “I was getting a
little alarmed about you.”
“We have been in good company, sir,” Kit answered. And he briefly told
the story of their adventure. “I really don’t feel quite sure yet that
we have not been dreaming,” he concluded. “Yes, it must have been real,
though, for here is the letter the gentleman gave me.”
He held the dainty envelope down under the light, and read the
address:--
“THE MOST REVEREND
THE BISHOP OF NEW ZEALAND
_Wellington, N.Z._”
“Well,” the Captain exclaimed, “the letter is not sealed. You can
easily tell by the signature who your distinguished friend was.”
Kit took the letter out and tried to read it, but soon gave it up.
“It is all written in Latin, and I can’t make out a word of it,” he
said, handing it to the Captain.
“Don’t you see that little scarlet emblem up in the corner?” the
Captain asked, as soon as he glanced at it. “That is the emblem of a
cardinal, as I thought everybody knew. Yes, certainly. It is signed
‘Galotti.’ You youngsters have been hobnobbing with Cardinal Galotti.
Get off to bed, Henry; I can’t have my cabin boy fooling around with
Princes of the Church.”