Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1907-04-25
THE MIRROR OF FATE
A VENETIAN LEGEND OF THE DAYS
OF THE DoGEs.

story of the Beauty Who Was Intoxi-
Gated win the Vision of Her Own
LONELINESS and the Statue In the
Church of San Giorgis Maggiore.
Here is a legend which ] heard in
Venice. | offer it to all among you
who are fond Of solitude and silence.
/ offer it to you as I would offer
flower which has blossomed amid SOM
Der shadows on sleeping lagoon
Ghita Gherardini was the niece of the
doge. Poets whose names we have for
gotten, but who We're renowned at that
time had composed innumerable songs
In her honor They praised in them the
tresses Of the young girl, black as night,
In which pearls cleaned like milk
white stars. They also sang about the
radiance of her dark violet eyes and
about the two roses which formed her
lips In truth, Ghita Gherardini was
very beautiful. She had, however, lis
tened too earnestly to the passionate
words Of the singers, and an immense
pride took possession of her young soul.
One night she heard beneath her Win
dow the yearning sob of lutte. Stand
ing in a motionless gondola, :. lovesick
page was singing to her. Tender was
the music, and the water and the dark
ness added something to the sweetness
Of the strains and to the passion in the
voice of the singer. The young page
was clarifying her as the most radiant
among all women
Ghita heard him, and a delightful
trenor ran through her. Without wait
ing to light the torches, which had gone
out, she took her mirror and ran to the
window, through which the moonlight
shone into her room. Thereupon in this
mysterious light she saw that she was
strangely beautiful; that her beauty
moonlight revealed her pale and trans
parent, like the princess of poem.
Intoxicated with her charms, she let
the seductive mirror slip from her
hand, and sigh of admiration and of
ecstasy escaped her as she cried:
II am beautiful! / am beautifulw
Thenceforth Ghita Gherardini spent
all her time marveling at her own beau
| ty. She did not desire to fall in love,
for she fancied that there was no man
| living who was worthy Of her. Those
songs which had no words of praise for
| her eyes and her hair she treated with
contempt, and to the mysteries Of reli-
| gion she never gave a thought.
| She went to high mass solely for the
purpose Of being seen by the people
and Of being flattered by them as they
| whispered to one another about her.
| The restless eyes were never turned
| toward the altar.
She thought of nothing save her own
! triumphant beauty and Of the jewels
| which set it off in sumptuous fashion.
One day Ghita Gherardini slipped a
| little mirror beside the first page Of
her mass book, which had been deli
cately Illuminated by a pious artist
And while her attitude of devotion edi-
fed the multitude she studied her face
enshrined in the book of prayer.
| The doge's niece had forgotten that
the Creator alone is worthy of wor-
| ship and not any Of his creatures. She
had also forgotten that pride is an
abominable sin-aye, perhaps the most
perilous Of all sins-since it was the
cause Of the rebellion of the archan-
| gels and the downfall of Lucifer.
One day Ghita Gherardini was in
| tently studying her face in the little
mirror between the holy leaves of her
mass book, and suddenly she uttered a
loud cry Of terror. Through the large
building it rang, drowning the solemn
voice Of the priest, the responses Of the
congregation and the sonorous muir.
muir Of the organ. And straightway
the doge's niece fell to the ground in
4 faint. She had seen reflected in the
guilty mirror, the sacrilegious mirror
4 not her own countenance. but that OF
/ Death.
There is today in the Church Of SaI
Giorgis Maggiore, where this miracle
was accomplished, the statue of wo
man, who is seated and locking at her
self in mirror. Very beautiful !.
4 this woman, as beautiful as Ghits
Gherardini was formerly. The stor.
goes that this statue Is the work Of
famous sculptor, but the people be
lieye---and their legends contain .
good deal Of truth-that it was one
Ghita Gherardini herself and that he
body was turned into stone by the ter
rible vision
To all those who love the silence o
dead cities / offer this legend. foun,
1t at Venice as one occasionally finds
1 flower which has blossomed amid som
Der shadows on a sleeping lagoon
Helene de zuylen de Nyevelt in Euro
pean Edition New York Herald.
The Rose and Its Thorns.
This is the old legend of how the
rose came by its thorns: One day II
!. paradise Cupid was flying over a gar
den of roses. Blossoming there was &
beautiful pink rose. Cupid bent t.
kiss it when a bee hidden In the flow
er stung him on the lip. Crying Will
pain, Cupid fled to Venus, his mother
demanding vengeance Venus, to paci
~ MIN, gave him a bow strung will