The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1888-02-26
frInsa > s,ss.al .r,s.gen,e... cspgiga.sa lsss.l
FRA AGOSTINO'S REPENTANCE



ycorching beams into the convent garden till ii
simmerea with the heat The gray olive trees
xasped for breath of air. and the prim parsley
md lettuce had wilted into Ianguid endurance
The cicadae quickened to an Irritating ac-
siyity chirped hiIariousIy. The gray liz
yards, basking the high wall, looked
like lichens ~ some alarm made them
fash into cover. Fra Gennaio was slowly pacing
up and Gown vine-covered walk. His tall.
spare fgllee. clad in the white habit, was ths
pns thing Ia the garden which seemed cool He
was reading MS brevia.y. Sometimes he let his
eyes wander from the ruSric-lettered page and
look toward the blue heaven, while his thin lips
murmured the verses of the familiar psalms
inaudiby The heat and noisy cicadB did not
mar the sense of ineffable peace which pervaded
the convent garden, perched high up amid the
wooded heights or Fiesoie. The world
might worry and chafe down there in the
old city by the Arno. but it could not climb over
the high wall OF San Ercolano's cloister AT
least only the worry that clings to the soul; be-
cause even monks souls are human. just as
Fra Gennaio had reached the end OF the walk
and turned, he saw the burly form of Fra Gil
roland rolling toward him. That simple brother
knew that Fra Gennaio must come to him. and
the fat old man felt the heat much he did not
care to squander his short steps. But he knew
as well his duty. and it would not do to wait and
and let his superior come to him. Therefore
Fra Girolamo affected sympathetic interest in
the limp lettuce heads as he walked, and pro-
gressed but slowly.
Fra Gennaio drew near with his slow, digni-
fed step, paused, finished the versicle. turned
the pages over on his thumb. and then let his
gaze fall upon the burly ianitor. 1t was leave
to deliver mis- message.
Padre, gentleman would speak with your
Reverence"
The prior closed his Office book and went at
once to the sober little parlor. How cool it
seemed after the binding heat of the garden
The green shutters were drawn and he could
scarcely see the rough wood-cut of the Madonna
the white-washed walls. He saw, however, a
large, welI-bult Englishman sitting on one of
the black wooden chairs. Fra Gennaio greeted him
with grave courtesy. All were to the
prior brothers Christ their Father, as
He his Yet while all men were his broth
ers. he felt that the man more sim burdened and
stricken with ills was of closer consanguinity
AS the face of the Engllshman met his, Fra
Gennao recognized that he was OF very close
kInship. He not more than thirty. He
spoke to the prior in Italian The soft. musical
words had "a grave lingering cadence In his
month.
''Father. have but little to say. I wish to
convent here. and be lost to all that is not God
and my soul"
Fra Gennaios dark eye had not left the
strangers face while he uttered these words
The Englishman had in his own eye a look of
the most pathetic sadness. 1t was heightened
TO Fra Gennaio's mind by the calm. high bred
air and aristocratic elegance of the head, hands
and feet OF his visitor.
"Caro milo sgnore.D said Fra Gennaio gently
zone enters a convent for the love of God, not
from mere disgust of the world But God draws
hwy PaTdn ma Qok To
know a little more of the motives which have
led you to wish to enter convent. You will feel.
am sure, that curiosity has nothing to do with
this desire of mine"
Father the world knows no blemish on my
name. But there is a wound in my soul. com
plicated and deep. which only penance or death
can soothe. wish to give my life TO the sole
thing that can make it endurable. pray yon,
ask no more"
Fra Gennaio. both by nature and grace was
reader of mems souls. Something noble
breathed in this man, even in his reticence
1.-THE woman whom he loved has died. or he has
wrought unwittingy some wrong on another"
He paused moment before he addressed the
man sitting quietly upright in the hard chair.
Brother, the soul that seeks a converts walls
because it has found man or woman false will
not find the peace 1t seeks. A bruised heart IS
not healed by solitude. Human breasts have
ached in the Thebaid. They can ache in San
Ercolano," the prior said softly. UNLESS you
have yearning for God you will learn that
a fight to a convent is not escape from trials
Remember. AMIGO milo, that mans thoughts
are his world. 'Coelum non animum, mutant
qni trans cnrrunt.' Old Horace was
right. Give me thy heart said the Master.
And cannot give the heart if do not love.
If the wish to serve God is in you. even if 1t be
then say to you. Come! But do not come to
find only sweetness. Bitterness is the seed of
sweetness in the field of the soul"
Fra Gennaio's voice had taken a glow OF
betrayal. He giving advice unconsciously
suffused with the glow of personal experience.
Father, when life means TO man what it
means TO me there is not much danger OK a rash
or delusive piety say again that would en-
ter your convent. May comet"
''Yes. When would you like to enterT said
Fra Gennaio. calmly.
Now" said the Englishman.
Fra Agos;ino had acquired great repute in
San Ercolano. He did not so much attain to
the manners of monk quietly sink into the
tranquil ways Of convent life. Not brother
the house was humble. not even the cook,
and his lowiuess had acquired such a name in
Florence that it was good he knew it not, It's
easy to be proud OF ones humility-in a con-
vent He seemed to move In atmosphere OF
preted the rule of silence so as to admit OF few
innocent passing words. but Fra Agostino, If a
brother spoke to him ont of the hours of recrea-
ton. smiled gently and answered nothing.
Nobody felt hurt thought the new
novice was presuming to teach the
older monks lesson. When the
hour for recreation came, after dinner and
supper, he talked cheerfully with the simple
brethren, though. heaven knows, it must have
been - harder trial to trea6 their artless
marks with that courteous attention of his than
to talk with his own sou, or God. as he did
during the time of silence. 1t was relief to
him which the Old cracked bell harshly called
the monks back to taciturnity. Daily mis- face
grew thinner and the lines cut more deeply in,
and thu eyes sunk back into the sockets. Most
or the time the white lids covered the pure,
frank gaze. but when he raised them, it made
Fra Gennaio sigh little to read the uncom-
planning sorrow that spoke in them There was
n pAthos which the prior felt in that compact
strong frame, and the hardy, delicate soul that
shrunk into itself to desert itself Nightly the
occupants of the corridor in which Fra Agostino
slept heard the sharp click of his discipline
be relentlessly rained the singing blows of
No heavier strokes ran along the narrow.
whitewashed corridor. IL really seemed
immoderate TO the monks and some of the older
brethren felt constrained to tell the prior that
the newcomer was n trihe indscreet in his
hagellations Novices prone to think
that the violence which carries heaven by storm