The Columbus journal., 1884-06-25
ANNINA.

ANNINA.
Pastor Comba was . Waldensian
clergyman, whose acquaintance l made
at q prayer meeting in Venice. There
are prayer meetings in Venice, and the
Italians relate their experiences and
sing hymns with all the fervor of en-
thusiastic Methodists. My friend, Miss
Leslie, called for me, one evening, and
I accompanied her because l thought it
rather novel to glide to a prayer meet
ing in q gondola. We went some dis
tance, twisting through narrow canals,
turning innumerable corners, shooting
q score of bridges, while tho soft moon
light beamed as brightly as it did on
the night when Jessica escaped from
Shylock's s house. We halted at last be-
fore q great, grim palace. and tall
man hastened forward to help us up the
slippery steps. This was Pastor Com
ba, q singularly handsome man, with q
silky beard and mustache covering the
lower part of his face. He led the way
up a wide marble staircase to q large
room. where thirty or forty men and
women were assembled. Some were
devout souls; some, like me, had been
brought by friend; and q few were
there out of sheer curiosity. One peas
ant entered, looked about him with
puzzled air, and asked what was going
on. The reply made him cross himself
and hasten away, shaking the unholy
dust from his feet.
The room had been. in days gone by,
. banquet hall. and the ceiling showed
rosy nymphs and bacchantes, now very
dingy and badly defaced As an Offset
to these pagan pictures, one side of the
hall was covered with Scripture texts,
and where a Catholic would have looked
to find basin of holy water was ia
BILE full of tracts. In q corner stood q
parlor organ, a young lady seated on q
stool before it, intently studying hymn
book Thither Pastor Combs led us,
and introduced us to his niece, Signo-
rina Annina Comba. She was not more
than seventeen-a pretty, slim, dark
haired slip of a girl. who looked very
demure, but her black eyes were bub-
bling over with life and fun. She had
in her hands copy of Sankey's hymns,
an Italian version. The prayer
meeting began with Hold the Fort,
Signorina Annina playing the organ
and joining in the singing. Overhead,
the nymphs still smiled sweetly, and
the bacchantes never dropped their
wreaths; but two or three gOndoliers
went out of the hall. knocking q few
benches over to show their disap-
proval. Pastor Comba made a fervid
address: q white-headed man in the
audience rose. and described his con-
version: and finally there came an ex-
hOrtatiOn from young man, who ap-
peared to be not more than twenty.
His eloquence was tremendous. Sig
norma Annina's great eyes dilated, and
Miss Leslie cried, but the crowd went
crazy. Everybody wanted to speak at
once, when The young man sat down,
and the air was rent with passionate
voices that Pastor COmba tried in vain
TO quell. When order was restored we
went home: but We had first been in
vited by the clergyman to dine with
him and his niece on the following even
ing:
Thus began my acquaintance with
with them in Florence. whittier the
pastor had been sent to take charge of
a Protestant chapel. He had q charm
ing wife. but no children. and Annina
passed the winter with them, in order
that she might study music. Her home
was in Turin. and asked her, one dav,
at the dinner table. if there was no
good music teachers there.
She smiled significantly, and her un-
Gle shook shook his finger at her.
'Yes, there are music teachers there"
he said. land there is also q young
man there. and he distracts Annina's
mind; so she must stay here in Florence,
if she will learn anything"
Annina very soon told me that she
was engaged to be married, and in a
week l knew all about Allesio Chan
daja. heard of his blue eyes. his
curly hair, his beautiful white hands
and his sweet tenor voice. Annina
showed me his portrait. which she wore
in a locket, and Ipleased her by saying
that he must be very handsome.
IAN Apollo she exclaimed.
She wrote many letters to him, and
received many in return, and as favor
she would occasionally show me line
or two. We became excellent friends,
despite the disparity of our ages, and l
often took her with me to walk. or to
visit the galleries. She talked contin-
ually about her Allesio; but she spoke
in Italian. so it was good practice for
me in that language. He was q neigh
bor's son, and she had known him from
babyhood
''But we did not love-" she said,
''until one summer, when his family
and mine went to Switzerland together.
Then we found out"
''Did he tell you?" 1 asked.
She looked much scaudalized. He
told my mother" she answered, s.and
mother told ne: but ] knew it before"
she added. naively. There is much
in q glance.
The rogue shot q demure sidelong
look at me. rs she said this, and gave
an ecstatic little skip. We were walk
ing iE the caScine, and the officers BE-
slowed bold stares Of admiration on
Annins. She was very pretty, and by
no means unconscious Of it; but she
talked of her beauty in the same frank
way that she did of her love affair.
''Were you ever alone with Allesio-
I mean after you became engsged3'
] asked, wondering whether old Gus
toms still held sway.
mo, nor she cried. 'sThat INV
mother would never allow"
l felt her hand tighten on my arm,
and she suddenly became silent. She
did net even grow gay at the sight 0f
Ar. Livingstone driving his sixteen OF
eighteen horses. At dinner, she spoke
h6dly . word, and her uncle rallied
her on her melancholy, her unwonted
hnce. mo letter from Allesio?'' he