The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1876-03-05

embrace at q view all the environs, the dc
clivities, the sbyss, the practicable appro.eaea
To the eyes of one viewing it from above, the |
winding path which assembled towards the
terrible habitation could be perceived through. |
out its whole course, and from the WINDOWS
and ioopholes, the signor could leisurely cocnt
the steps Of the person ascending, ana examine
him with the closest scrutiny. With the garri.
son of bravoes which he kept at the castle ne
crushed in the valley beneath, before an In
dividual could reach the summit But mono,
except such as were friends with tho master
of the castle, dared set foot eveni in the valley;
Tragical stories were related Of some who had
attempted the dangerous enterprise, but these
stories were already of times long past, and
none of the young vaseals could fems mem 70
have encountered q human being in this place,
except under his lords authority.
Don Roderick arrived in the middle of the
valley, at the foot of the cliff, at the commence
ment of the rugged and winding path at this
point was tavern, which might have been
called guard house; an old sign, with
rising sun painted on both sides, was suspended
the more appripriate name Of Aa1anotts.
At the noise of the approaching cavalcade Q
young boy, we'll furnished with swords and
and casting rapid glance at the party, in.
formed three ruff ans, who were playing at
cards within the house. of its approach. he
who appeared to be the chief among. them
arose, and recognizing friend of his master,
| saluted him respectfully; Don Roderick re-
turned the salutation with much politeness,
end asked if the signor wes IT the cestle. The
man replied in the afirmativei and he, dis
| mounting, threw his borses bride to Aimwell,
one of his retiuue. Then, taking his musket
from his shoulder, he gave it to Aontana'ola, as
if to relieve himself from an useless encum-
brance, but in reality because he knew that on
this cliff none were permitted to bear arms.
Drawing from bis pocket some berlinghe, he gave
them to Ianabuso, saying, Wait here till my
with these honest people," Then presenting
to the chief of the band some crowns of gold
for himself and his companions, he assembled
the path with Griso.
Another bravo belonging to the Unknown,
who was his way to the castle, bore him
company; thus sparing him the trouble of de-
When he arrived at the castle (Griso was left
at the gate) he was conducted through q long
succession of dark galleries, and various halls
hung with muskets, sabres and other weapons
Of warfare each of these walls was guarded by
bravo. After having waited some time, he
was admitted to the presence of the Unknown,
who advanced to meet him, replying to his
salutation, and at the same time, az was his
custom, even with his Oldest friends, cycling him
| from head to foot. He was tall in stature and
| from the badness of the head, and the deep
| furrows of his countenapce, appeared to be
much older than sixty, which was his real age
his countenance and movement, the firmness of
| his features, and the fire which sparkled from
| his eyes, indicated vigor of body as we'll as of
mind which would have been remarkable even
! in young man.
Don Roderick told him he had come for
advice and assistance that, having embarked
| in difficult enterprise, from which his honor
| did not suffer him to withdraw, he had remem-
bered the promises of one who never promised
| in vain; aud he then related the whole affair.
| The Unknown, who had already heard some
thing of the story, listened with much atten-
ton to the recital, and the more so because
Frar Christopher, that avowed enemy of
tyrants was concerned in 1t. Don Roderick
spoke of the difficulty of the undertaking, the
distance of the place, convent, ETC.; but the
Unknown, as If prompted by the demon in his
heart, intercepted him, saying, that ne took
down the name of the poor girl Lucy, and dis
missed Don Roderick, saying, In little while
i: you will receive news from me-"
Strange to say, however, no sooner was he left
: alone than he 1epented of his precipitation,
he had for some time experienced not remorse,
, but vague uneasIness on account of his
crimes; at every new addition to them, the
! remembrance of those he had previously com
} mitted pressed upon his memory, If not upon
his conscience and loaded it with an intole-
rsble weight. An undehnable repugnance to
T the commission of crime, such as he had expe-
l rienced and subdued at the outset of his career
] returned with all its force to overwhelm his
spirit. The thoughts of the future contributed
!, to render the past more painful. ITO grow
g old to die end then !" And the image o.
death, which he had so often met undaunted
8 in face of an enemy, and which seemed to in
flame his courage and double his energy--thit
same image now, in the midnight silence of hil
castle, quelled his spirit, and impressed hin
with awe which he in vain endeavored tt
resist. Formerly, the frequent spectacle o.
e violence and murder, inspiring him with q fe-
rocious emulation, had served as kind of au
. thority against his Conscience now the con.
fused but terrible idea arose in his-mind OF
individual responsibility at the bar of God
! The idea of having risen gabove the crowd OF
vulgar criminals, and of having left them fal
behind, an idea which once flattered This pride
. now impressed him with q sentiment of fearful
solitudey and experiencing at certain moments
: of dependence the power and presence of tha
$ God whose existence he had hitherto neither
q admitted nor denied, having been wholly i'm
: mersed in himself, his accumulated crimes ros'
. up, to justify the sentence which was about t.
l. condemn him to eternal Punishment from thu
j. divine presence. But this uneasiness was no
/: suffered to appear, either in his words or hi
u actions; he carefully concealed it under tn
s. appearance of more profound and intens
}, ferocity Regrettiug the time when he was &C
. customed to commit iniquity without remorse
II without any other solcitude than for its sue
cess, he made every effort to recall these habit
% and feelings; to take pleasure in wckedness
=: and glory in his shame, in order to convinc
d himself that he still the same man.
OG This acCounta for the DromDtituda oe