San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-05-26

II love-" said he; land am loved as
wish TO be, to the exclusion of every
thing, without a thought, without an en-
thusiasm, without even a comprehension
outside of myself
Then his brow wriukled.
when think that some day perhaps
my faculties will decline, that my bare
head will have only few white hairs
upon it, and that my legs will sustain me
no longer--h!' he exclaimed. with a
shudder, Il would like to believe in an
endless future; desire an immortal love!
Youth, beauty, grace, all our intinity of
love; her voice, ohI that voice which
others scarcely know, her voice which
pours forth tenderness and marvellous
dreams-all this may change, diminish,
or disappear some day in death. That is
what often makes me shudder with a
sadness which you do not know"
These words came to the souls of all
as the translation of certain shadows
which they had seen pass over Rienzi's
face.
Ferucci let them fall, as heavy and
sorrowful vibrations, into the immensely
of the sea.
Then he answered:
Grow old! You! My Rienzi! Nature
has given you manly beauty and grace,
charm and genius, the crown of all
things, woman's love corresponding
to the most ambitious aspirations Of your
brain and heart.
Child" he declared in tone of
prophecy, "you will never know diminu-
ton; logical nature does not create a
man like you to drop her work by the
roadside. You will die in full glory, in
full youth, in full love, in full genius,
like the heroes and demigods.
The conversation was saddened; the
Neapolitans do not like to speak of death.
There is always a superstition conceal
ed beneath their apparent skepticism.
Strange people, SO ready for excuses of
all sorts, so thoroughly masters of them
selves, so easily taken in, generous to the
point of devotion, and as cold as a Levan-
tine banker.
Then in the silence the masculine voice
of fisherman rose in the distance, sud-
denly mingling its rhythm with the gen.
tie surging of the pillows, the regular
splashing of the waves. The indistinct
words of the barcarole did not mean
much, and were only a pretext for the
melody.
MontefOrte suddenly felt himself de-
livered from the yoke beneath which he
had bent for the last five years. An in
vincible desire to sing, to let his feeling
overflow in the initial fashion of his ma
ture, came over him irresistibly. He
| forgot that he had lost his voice, and be-
gan the response to the distant singer.
To an Old air of 'Carissimi' Monte
forte improvi~.l strange words, in which
passed visions. Tine worship Of this beau
tiful night, things unnamIhle, lofty and
| superhuman.
| His voice was nervous; suddenly in
| that moment which marks the luminous
pOint-solnrtimes limited in duration,
sometime, long-of every artists life, he
resuscitatnd the harmony for which he
was born. His voice rang ont again
| with the ardor Of Oh time enthusiasm,
And when the last note pierced the air
like a CRY of distress, a final plant ex-
hailed in tine same breath with a shout Of
victory, they uncovered their heads. The
old Frrucci rose. His lofty stature stood
out against the pale clearness of the night:
above his head the moon lighted sky and
sea, divine and mysterious lamp The
distant isles seemed like clouds them
| selves.
1t was the illimitable
Ferucci raised his soft hat, and turn
ing his sublime old eagles head toward
the Orient, with gesture of superhuman
majesty, he cried in vibrating tones:
"AIl hail, immortal beauty"
| IN ipTFP VII