The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1883-02-22

II dare say you are surprised" he
said, sat the effect produ led on me, but
you must know that forty years ago 1
lived in this very room. My poor Te-
resa-my wife. sir-was with me and
died here. Our son Carlo was born
here. He is also no more; he died the
death of q brave man ut Salferino while
fighting for the land of his fo~refather5.
l am alone now in my old age. and this
is all that remains to me of the past"
1t would DE impossible for me to ade-
quately describe the sad, grave dignity
with which he spoke-the broken voice,
and the old gentleman's deeply sorrow
full, yet resigned, attitude. l W that,
though by nature not particularly i'm
p~ressionable or given to tenderness, l
was myself moved by such utter and
hopeless solitude. DESTROYS of respect
ing his honorable grief, I held my
tongue.
1--WE were very poor" he resumed,
dreamily; ..but we were young, full of
hope, and rejoiced to have escaped a
great danger. I had been compromised
as an intimate friend Of Count Confa-
lioneri-you may have heard of the great
Italian patriot, sira-and 1 was about to
be arrested. A companion warned me,
and 1 succeeded in escaping from the
Austrian bloodhounds. l fled to En-
gland, and my fond Teresa followed me
here to this house, to this very room, and
shared my lot. My land, my estates,
were all confiscated. Though absent, I
was sentenced to death as a traitor to my
country, and I had to struggle for daily
bread as a teacher of languages. But
we were happy in spite of our poverty.
When l came home, Teresa was waiting
with a smile to receive me. In the sum-
mer, however poor we might be, that
window-sill was gay with flowers; and
those gardens, sir-those gardens, sir,
were her particular delight. She gave
them the name of Bosco Bello. ALI the
birds knew her, and came to her, and
helped her to sing songs to u little
Carlo. They are both dead, and the room
is a good deal changed, but the garden,
the trees, are here still"
The old Count simple, touching words
caused strange sensations within me.
He put the picture so wildly before me
that I actually seemed to see him young
again, in the company of allowing and
perhaps beautiful woman, looking out
on the little old smoke stained trees, and
deriving a little sweet comfort in exile
from the sight.
"All is over now" said the old gen.
tlemaa, making an effort to control his
feelings. '.My title, my riches, have
long since been restored to me; but what
are they to mep One more request, sir;
I know I have been most selishly in
truding upon your time and privacy, but
grant me yet more favor before 1
take my leave. May I look behind that
shutter by the Window"
THAT shutterr!' said I, surprised.
"Yes," he replied. 'tIt is sheer folly
on my part, 1 know, after so many years
have passed; but I still feel a mad hope
in me to find something there that ! re-
member well in the old days"
"Look. by all MEANS" said I, a trife
suspicious that grief had preyed upon
the old gentleman's mind, and that he
was not perfectly n
He advanced, drew the folded shutter
out with a trembling hand, and peered
a%nxiously at the board or panel behind it.
"Lookr' he exclaimed, suddenly, with
a kind of choky sob. at is still there!
Gran biol it is still there!"
"What is. still therer' I asked, ap-
preaching him.
He did not answer; he seemed to for
get even my presence, and. falling upon
his knees, began muttering to himself in
Italian I let him be, though rather
curious to know what it was that inter-
ested him so much. What could he
have discovered behind that old shut
terP Not a jewel, or anything of intrin-
sic value, surelyP
He got up again presently, having
seemingly recovered himself. and looked
at me, smiling a queer, sad smile.
"Come, sir" he said. sYour painters
have been neglectful OF their work; in
spite of the lapse of so many years, they
have spared my poor Teresa's humble
lines"
At the Counts invitation I lowered
my head against the panel and saw the
cause of his emotion. In a corner, black
ened by the dirt and dust of time, but
still fairly decipherable, was a faint scrib-
BILE in pencil, and in a woman's hand.
Two lines of verse, which ran thus:
Benche IN esule 81 scrisse.
10 Luglio, 1924.
and, freely translated, meaning:
Although an exile here, she wrote,
.Contented was Teresa's lot.
ID July, 1923.
She wrote them two months before
she diedf' said the old Count. 1.-The
verses are poor, but they mean more to
me than the most beautiful lines of Pc
trarca. Her heart was in them. I am
truly grateful to you for your courtesy
and kindness. With your permission I
will o retire"
Sir" said 1, with great sense of SYM
pathy and pity for the old %gentleman's
forlorn condition, ''if you ever desire at
any time to come here again. pray stand
upon no ceremony. 1 shall be only too
pleased to welcome you"
1 held out my hand and he grasped it
warmly.
Thank you," he answered, s'thank
you" hope to see you again-indeed,
[ have something more to ask of you;
but not now, not now. Ineed rest, and
1 have wearied you quite enough"
pressed him to take some refresh
ments, but he declined my offers, and
with many repeated expressions of obi
CATION, prepared to take his departure.
As | led him to the street door. through
the hall, two of my impish, mischievous
little ones put out their curley heads
and giggling to themselves, as children
will, called out in shrill, audible voices:
'Fatller Christmasr'
The old gentleman turned round, saw
them. and smiled ~benevolently. Your
little children, sir'" he asked. "What
did they say? Did L hear them call me
Father ChristmasP"
"Do not pay any attention to Them"
l said, frowning p~ortentously. They
are exceedingly rude and ill-behaved."
NAY. nay, sir" he replied. Father
Christmas is a good name; it is a good
name" He approached them As they
came out tlmldly, one by one, and pat
saving a few kindly words, after which
he took his leave AMI disappeared, hob
bling round the corner.
The npyt day q Won drove un opd q