The Strolling Saint; being the confessions of the high and mighty Agostino D'Anguissola, tyrant of Mondolfo and Lord of Carmina in the state of Piacenza by Rafael Sabatini
page 39 of 447 (08%)
page 39 of 447 (08%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
She paused a moment, whilst we stared, Fra Gervasio white-faced and with
mouth that gaped in sheer horror. "For years had he eluded the long arm of the pope's justice," she resumed. "And during those years he had never ceased to plot and plan the overthrow of the Pontifical dominion. He was blinded by his arrogance to think that he could stand against the hosts of Heaven. His stubbornness in sin had made him mad. Quem Deus vult perdere..." And she waved one of her emaciated hands, leaving the quotation unfinished. "Heaven showed me the way, chose me for Its instrument. I sent him word, offering him shelter here at Mondolfo where none would look to find him, assuming it to be the last place to which he would adventure. He was to have come when death took him on the field of Perugia." There was something here that I did not understand at all. And in like case, it seemed, was Fra Gervasio, for he passed a hand over his brow, as if to clear thence some veils that clogged his understanding. "He was to have come?" he echoed. "To shelter?" he asked. "Nay," said she quietly, "to death. The papal emissaries had knowledge of it and would have been here to await him." "You would have betrayed him?" Fra Gervasio's voice was hoarse, his eyes were burning sombrely. "I would have saved my son," said she, with quiet satisfaction, in a tone that revealed how incontestably right she conceived herself to be. He stood there, and he seemed taller and more gaunt than usual, for he had |
|