The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1890-08-20

@-.fr. "Motherl -Sonl' aud
inv.tations to the divine mercy,
.sJe! Maria Santissimal'' I'D svery
sto.'e, every ruin gave forth groan.
The count passed shadows stagger-
ing 'ke drunken men, walking on
tipt|e with arms stretched out be-
for< hem, or seated motionless like
statues of desolation; others, holding
on .Ieir knees heavy dropping
BODIES which no longer respond to
the'f endearments. Women, dis
heftIed, danced, with uplifted
skies, mad. One would have verify
haft believed ones self with Dante.
Ne moisture cold on his brow,
fre1en with horror, the wretched
JeI'fi leaped over corpses, scaled
Ma| and the one thought incess-
ant on his brains like the ticking
Of e1ciock, ''Shall arrive in timer"
Az e corner Of a street he saw BY
the light of tlc moon woman's
arm thrust out from under heap of
fallen beams. a naked arm caught
as in vice. The white hand,
loaded with rings, writhed like a
crab. The cries of the sufferer.
deadened, stified under the debris.
could not be heard, but those
twitching fingers called for help,
and this hand thrust out out in
space, shrieked: "To the rescuel'
The count could have rescued her.
He turned away his head and pass
ed on. He had not the time.
After rctracing his steps more
than twenty times, after wandering
about for over an hour, he arrived
at last before what had been his
dwelling. What a sight The
charming villa, the villa of kisses
and flowers, was now but smoking
mass ofruins. One side of the wall
alone remained upright, and over
head, in its cage of gilded osier,
cooed a turtle dove, which the coun.
tess had cherished. 1t was a touch.
ing sight, this poor, frail little bird,
suspended between heaven and
earth in its dainty house-this dove
of miracle. as if to prove that God
who, in his terrible and mysterious
power, razed cities to their founda-
tions in an instant, could equally, if
it were his will, save the life of a
dove.
AT the sight OF these great stones,
piled one above the other, the count
felt himself turn weak as child.
She was there, underneath this mass,
his adored wife, Where, in which
directioss2 Even If she were dead,
he must find her at any cost. Soft
ly, with Infinite precautions, with
steps of velvet, clinging to the pro-
jections, he ventured among the
ruins of his house. He hesitated be-
fore setting his foot down anywhere,
as if fearful of trampling upon her
beloved body.
Suddenly,he thought he heard
he did hear-a distant voice, but SO
faint one might have said it was but
a breath, a sigh borne by the wind.
He stopped. 1t was subterranean
voice, woman's voice-hcr voice!
He recognized it now. He could
not distinguish what she was say
ing, but. it was, indeed her caressing
voice, calling to him from the depths
of that fearful night, where she be-
lieved herself immured forever.
81 will save her." he said, and he
set to work.
Bruising his knees, decorating his
hands, the nails torn away, sweat
ing tears, weeping blood, for over
an hour the count toiled at the mass
of stones with frenzy. Now, vainly
his bleeding hands into n
heap of rubbish, the powdered plas-
ter slipping through his fingers like
running water, again moving heavy
blocks of stone, which fell back,
his hands In an iron grip.
The distant voice guided him con-
tinually. 1t began to grow less dis
tinct, and suddenly it ceased alto
gether.
Then despair helped him to ac-
compiish prodigies. He lifted
blocks of stone, which he threw far
from him, he wrested away beams
bristling with nails. With blows
of his feet, of his shoulders, urged
on by a ferocious energy, he rapid
" accomplished a giant work, and
was ready to fall from fatigue and
thirst when there was a sudden Civ
ing way in the mass under his feet,
which landed him on the edge of