Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1893-02-25

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Where is Gertrudea Do you hear
meG You love herr exclaimed the
countess.
Madame" said the slave, Ger
trude's beauty and gentleness make
all love her."
Veronica, not needing his words,
continued:
"You are her lover. She has aban-
doned her virtue. You are worthy
of disgrace-both."
Madame" spoke Pantaleon, "you
do Gertrude wrong. No angel is
purer than she."
But you are her lover, say" re-
peated the woman fiercely. "She is
a disgraced girl"
II swear, countess, that she is as
pure as her patron saint"
The passion Of the countess rose
high. He denied his guilt, but not
his love. She trembled violently.
"Slaver" she hissed.
Pantaleon, in his turn, trembled
with sudden rage. Never before had
the epithet been given him to his
face. His godfather's consideration
and Veronica's love had till now kept
him from realizing his bondage. His
eyes flashed, his breast heaved, but
the inherited, ingrained respect of
chattel for master kept him silent,
and the despair of love forced no
words from the heroic young man.
Veronica turned to the negroes,
bade them bind Pantaleon and beat
him. The slaves wefe nothing loath
to show their hatred for one who
had been 80 raised above them and
whipped him with, cruel force.
Veronica watched and suffered, but
did not relent. The physician neither
moved nor raised his eyes. The
blows brought no answering groan,
but red stains, ever increasing In size
on his fine white linen, showed that
the delicate flesh responded. At the
sight of his blood the countess was
seized with violent shuddering and
bade them stop. Again Pantaleon
stood before her, but dropping and
spiritless.
The combat began once more.
"You love Gertrude. She shall suf-
fer too"
Gertrude is a pure child. Have
mercy upon her."
A great wave Of jealousy swept
over the countess as she looked on
the man who had been her lover.
How she hated himl With exaspera-
tion she cried, "If you do not confess
your guilt, you miserable slave, II
will have you thrown into that boil
ing sugar"
A murInur of horror rose from the
ciroling negroes. The yellow face Of
the overseer grew pallid white. Pan
falcon alone seemed undisturbed.
Seized with a sudden transport of
rage, she shrieked the command:
"Throw him into the caldroni"
AS the slaves started to obey,
'Hark thee, Veronica" he cried;
"a year from. today, at this hour, ]
summon thee to appear before the
tribunal Of God"
'Insolent slavel" cried the now fu-
rious woman, and she struck his face
with the little ivory crucifix.
''To the caldron with him--to the
caldronr
The horrible command was in
stantly obeyed, and five strokes rang
out from the clock on the mill.
The countess was picked up from
the earth where she had fallen when
the sizzling scream had struck her
ears. She was carried to the house
In state of complete delirium.
Months passed, but the adobe walls
Of the quadrangle still echoed her
shrieks, and her cry;' II am sum.
moned I am summonedw
Travellers crossing the desert, while
yet far distant from the hacienda,
were startled by the eerie wall Of
those pregnant words.
A year went by, and then came
the fatal day on which the summons
expired. Wonderful phenomenon
the countess awoke calm, self pos
sessed- without delirium.
An old woman with whitened hair
looked at her from the mirror. She
dressed herself in stately robes of
black and sent for the chaplain. The
had left long since. He
could endure neither the eyes of Ger
trude nor the wall Of the mad wom-
an. His conscience bade him move
on. The new friar, truer man, en-
tered.
Veronica fell upon her knees, and
with the priests hands upon her
head began her confession. When
the words ceased, the countess lay
prone, with her white hair ON the
feet. He raised and pardoned
her in the name of him who Is all
merciful.
Dona Veronica spent the ensuing
hours in prayer and in consultation
with Gertrude. This poor girl, whose
fatal beauty had caused the tragedy
having faithfully attended her mis-
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