The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-12-06

ike tnab OF some great beast IL tOrmens, and
dashed his head against the wall and struggled
like a mad bull in the hands of the men who tried
to hold him. Gesualdo, waiting without on tbs
head OF the great staircase. did not even change
countenance; to him this bitterness, as of the
bitterness of death had been long past; he had
been long certain what the verdict would be; and
he had many hours before resolved on his own
part.
A great calm had come upon his soul, and his
face had that tranquility which comes alone
from a soul which is at peace within itself.
The sultry Afternoon shed it's yellow light on
the Drown and gray and dusty town; the crowd
poured out of the Courthouse, excited, ~contrite,
voluble, pushing and bawling at one another,
ready to take the side of the condemned creature,
now that she was the victim Of the law. The
priest alone of them all did not move; he re-
NAMED sitting on the upright chair under a
sculptured allegory of Justice and Equity which
was on the arch above his head, AMI with the
golden light of sunset falling down on him
through the high easement above. He paid no
heed to the hurrying of the crowd, to the tramp
of guards, to the haste of clerks and officials
eager to finish their days work and get away
TO their wine and dominoeS at the taverns.
His hands mechanically held his breviary; his
lips mechanically repeated a Latin formula of
prayer. When all the people were gone. one OF
the cnstodians of the place touched his arm, tell
ing them that they were about to close the doors;
he raised his eyes like one who is wakened from
a trance, and to the man said quietly:
L "oOto de pFesHkGHb Ol Lu0 COuIb " q
moment quite alone. Is it possible2"
After many demurs and much delay. they
brought him into the presence of the judge in a
small chamber of the great palace.
What do you want with meg" asked the
judge, looking nervously at the white face and
the wild eyes of his unbidden v~isitant.
Gesualdo answered: Il am come to tell you
that you have condemned an innocent woman"
The Judge looked at him with sardonic deris-
ion and contempt.
ttWhat moragr ha .sLod s,Tf cba ba ;pnoeant
will you tell me who Is guilty2"
4 am" replied the priest.
At his trial he never spoke.
With his head bowed and his hands clasped,
ne stood in the cage where she mad stood, and
never replied by anv single word to the repeated
interrogations of his judges. Many witnesses
were called, and all they said testified to the
apparent truth of his self-accusation, those
who had always vaguely suspected him; all
those who had seen him close the door of
the sacristy on the crowd when he had borne the
murdered man within, the mule drivers who had
seen him digging at night under the great pop
lars, the sa~cristan who had been awakened by
him that same night so early, even his old house
keeper, though she syore that he was a lamb, a
saint, an angel, a creature too good for earth, a
holy man whose mind was distraught by fasting,
by visions. these all, either wilfully or ignorant
ly, bore witness which confirmed his own con-
fesslon. The men of the law had the mold and
grass dug up under the Grand Dukes poplar, and
when the blood-stained knife was found therein,
the very earth, it seemed, yielded up testimony
against him.
In the end, after many weeks of investiga-
ton, GeneroSO was released and he was SEN
fenced in her place.
Her lover married her, and they went to live
in his own country, in the Lombard plains, and
were happy and prosperous. and the village of
Marca and the waters of its cane Swallowed
stream knew them no more.
Sometimes she would say to her husband: 81
cannot think that he was guilty; there was
some mystery in it." And her husband always
laughed and said, in answer: HE was guilty,
be sure; 1t was | who frightened him into con-
fession; those black rats of the church have liv-
ere AS white as their coats are black"
oenerosa did not wholly believe, but she
thrust the grain of doubt away from her and
played with her handsome children. And, after
all. she unused, What doubt could there be? Did
not Don Gesualdo himself reveal his guilt, and
had he not always cared for her, and was not the
whole population of Marca willing to bear wit
ness that they had always suspected him and
had only held their peace out of respect for the
churchq
He himself lived two long years amongst the
galley slaves of the western coast; all that time
he never spoke; and he was considered by the
authorities to be insane. Then, in the damp and
cold of the third winter, his lungs decayed, his
frail strength gave way; he died of what they
In his last moments there was seen a light of
unspeakable ecstacy upon his face, a smile of
unspeakable rapture on his mouth.
"Laus Deus liberia me!' he murmured, as he
died.
A bird came and sang at the narrow easement
OF his prison cell as his spirit passed away. 1t
was a nightingale; perchance one of those which
had once sung to him in the summer nights from
the wild rose hedge at Marca.
THE END