We had another Giovanni who had done worse things even than these,
and who never became a penitent at all. Don Giovanni he was
called. Everybody in Rome knew him by the name of Don Giovanni.
Among the other bad things he did, he killed a great man who was
called the Commendatore; and though he had the crime of murder on his
conscience he took no account of it, but swaggered about with an air
of bravado as if he cared for no one.
One day when he was walking out in the Campagna he saw a great white
skeleton coming to meet him. It was the skeleton of the commendatore
whom he had killed.
'How dy'e do?' said Don Giovanni, with effrontery. 'There's an
Accademia [168] to-night at my house, I shall be very happy to see
you at it;' and he took off his hat with mock gravity.
'I will certainly come,' replied the commendatore in a sepulchral
voice; but Don Giovanni burst out laughing.
In the midst of the Accademia some one knocked. 'All the guests are
arrived,' said the servant, 'yet some one knocks.'
'Never mind, open!' replied Don Giovanni, carelessly. 'Let him in
whoever it is.'
The servant went to open, and came running back to say he could not
let the new guest in because he was only the miller, who had come in
his white coat all over flour.
All soon saw, however, that the guest was not the miller, though he
looked so white. For it was the white skeleton of the commendatore;
and it followed the servant into the room. Then fear seized on all
and they ran away to hide themselves; some behind the door, some
behind the curtains, and some under the table.
Don Giovanni stood alone in the middle of the room with his usual
effrontery, and held out his hand to the skeleton.
'Repent thee!' [169] said the White Skeleton, solemnly.
'A cavalier like me doesn't repent like common beggars!' replied Don
Giovanni, scornfully.
'Repent!' again repeated the White Skeleton, with more awful emphasis.
'I have something much more amusing to do!' replied Don Giovanni,
with a laugh.
'Don Giovanni!' cried the White Skeleton, the third time yet more
solemnly. 'Though you took away my life yet am I come to save your
soul, if I may, and therefore I say again, Repent! or beware of what
is to follow.'
'Well done, old fellow! very generous of you!' said Don Giovanni,
with a mocking laugh, and again holding out his hand.
They were his last words. The next minute he gave an awful yell
which might have been heard all over Rome. The White Skeleton had
disappeared, and the Devil had come in his place, and had taken Don
Giovanni by his extended hand and dragged him off.
[Tullio Dandolo, 'Monachismo e Leggende' p. 314-5, quotes a similar
legend from Passavanti, 'Specchio della vera Penitenza.' The story
of Don Giovanni's misdeeds brought up in the narrator's mind those
of Pepe (Giuseppe) Mastrilo, famous in the annals of both Spanish
and Italian bandits. It was, however, only a story of violence and
crime without point.]