The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1889-01-19

Oh bHc kcybOOuc, anu IL OuC 1ICu pIONC
false and fall, it's builder would fall
with it"
"That offer is surely fair" said the
archbishop, "as proof of your ear
nestness and sincerity. Let the work
be begun tomorrow"
Juan de Arevalo FASTENED to the
humble dwelling, In whose ernbrasur-
ed window sat watching the woman
who had accompanied him to Toledo;
a woman still young and beautiful,
Notwithstanding her face bore the
traces of vjgils and privations.
"Catalinal my Catalinap exclaimed
the architect, embracing his wife
fondly, "among these monuments
that glorify Toledo there will be one
that will transmit to posterity the
name of Juan de Arevalo."
No longer could the Toledanos,
approaching the Tajo over escarped
rocks and masses of ruins, exclaim,
Here was the bridge of San Martini"
for already the new bridge reared
itself in shapely proportions upon
the rent foundations, now made
solid, of the ancient structure. The
archbishop and other wealthy Toll
edanos were showering rich gifts up
on the fortunate and skillful archi-
tect who had succeeded in throwing
the three great arches of the bridge,
in spite of the gigantic daring of the
work and the furious currents of the
river.
On the eve of the day of San Vide
fonso, patron saint of the city, Juan
de Arevalo informed the archbishop
that his task was completed, saving
only the removing of the scafolding
from the three arches. 1t was
perilous test-the taking down
of the complicated system
of heavy iron seafolding
which braced the enormous mass of
delicately carved timbers; but the
calmness with which the architect
awaited the issue, which he promised
to meet standing on the central key
stone, filed those about him with
confidence. With proclamations and
pealing of bells was announced for
the following day the solemn bene-
diction and dedication of the bridge,
and the Toledanos, from the heights
commanding the vale of the Tajo,
contemplated with joyous emotion
the beloved Cigarralels that for years
had been sad, lonely, almost de-
serted. and which were now to recov-
er their old-time beauty and anima-
ton.
Toward nightfan Juan de Arevalo
climbed upon the scafolding of the
central arch to see that all was in
readiness for the morrow's ceremony.
Meanwhile, he was gayly singing. All
at once the song died on his lips, the
light faded from his face, and sor-
rowfully he descended, and
slowly took his way homeward.
His wife Catalina came forth to meet
him, full of love and contentment;
but a frightful pallor overspread her
face at the sight of the despairing
countenance of her husband.
"Oh, Father in Heaven!" she cried;
"what is it, then, my dear one? Art
thou ill?"
"Ill-no! dead-yes-in hope, in
power, in honor! Aye! in life itself
for I will not survive the dishonor
of tomorrow. Nay, the only shred
of honor / can wrest from fate will be
mine but in dying!'
"Nol mop cried Catalina; Juan,
thou dreamest! Thy great excess of
labor has deranged thy thought, my
dear one. Come hither, let me call
the leech and heal thee!'
4Not so it is the truth / tell thee.
When l was the most sure of success,
most confident of triumph, now on
the eve of the test, l have discovered
an error in my calculation that to-
morrow will bury in the Tajo the
bridge and the unfortunate that un-
successfully planned it,"
The bridge may fall, beloved, but
thou shalt not go with it. On my
knees l will entreat the archbishop
to exempt thee from that horrible
promise"
"And if he yield, then will l not &C.
cept the dissolution. I care not for
life without honor"
s'Now I swear that thou shalt lose
nor life nor honor!" murmured Cata-
lima, softly, yet with infinite resolu-
ton.
It was already almost dawn. The
cocks were Growing. Catalina seemed
to sleep, and her husband, soothed
in spite of himself by her calm de-
meanor, at last tell into a fitful,
feverish slumber, that was full of
nightmare horrors. Catalina arose,
as silent in her motions as the pass
ing of a shadow, and, opening win
dow looked out on the vale of the
Tajo. No sound was heard but the
murmuring current of the river and
the wind that whistled through
the timbers of the scaffolding
at the bridge. A dense and
sombre pail of cloud over
hung the city, and from it's gloomy
bosom darted, now and then, light
ming rays of terrible brilliance that
blinded the beholder. As yet no rain
was falling; and the terror of the i'm
pending storm seemed concentrated
in the thick palpable darkness, the
ominous brooding silence, and the
sultry, breathless thickness of the
close atmosphere.
Closing the window the wife of the
architect caught up an unextin-
guished brand that smoldered still
on the hearthstone. Out into the
night she went, and, for all the pitchy
blackness that marked that last
black hour before the day should
quicken she sought not to guide her
steps by the light of the brand,
but rather to conceal it's CLEAN with
the folds of her rniment, as she hur-
ried over the broken and Uttered way
to the river, and with pain and
peril climbed upon the planks of
the staging, Below her the
wind shrieked among the timbers,
and the river roarpd and hollowad 90