The Hidden Servants and Other Very Old Stories. Alexander Francesca

Чтение книги онлайн.

      "My life's a poor one, you may suppose!

      I 've many troubles that no one knows;

      For I have to keep a smiling face.

      I wander, friendless, from place to place,

      Risking my neck for a scanty gain;

      But I must do it, and not complain.

      I know, whatever may go amiss,

      That I have deserved much worse than this."

      To the hermit this a meaning bore

      Of deep humility, nothing more.

      So, gaining courage, "But this," he said,

      "Is not the life you have always led.

      So much the vision to me revealed;

      I know there 's something you keep concealed."

      The mountebank answered sadly: "Yes!

      'T is true: you ask, and I must confess.

      But keep my secret, good Father, pray;

      Or my life will not be safe for a day!

      Alas, I have led a life of crime!

      I 've been an evil man in my time.

      I was a robber – I think you know —

      Till little more than a year ago;

      One of a desperate, murderous band,

      A curse and terror to all the land!"

      The hermit's head sank down on his breast;

      His trembling hands to his eyes he pressed.

      "Has God rejected me?" then he moaned:

      "Are all my service and love disowned?

      Have I been blind, and my soul deceived?"

      The other, seeing the old man grieved,

      Said: "Father, why do you care so much

      For one not worthy your robe to touch?

      The Lord is gracious, and if He will,

      He can forgive and save me still.

      And as for my wicked life, 't is I,

      Not you, who have reason to weep and sigh!

      Your prayers may help me, and bring me peace."

      The hermit made him a sign to cease;

      Then raised his head, and began to speak,

      With tears on his wrinkled, sun-browned cheek.

      "If you could remember even one

      Good deed that you in your life have done,

      I need not go in despair away.

      Think well; and if you can find one, say!"

      "Once," said the mountebank, "that was all,

      I did for the Lord a service small,

      And never yet have I told the tale!

      But if you wish it, I will not fail.

      A few of our men had gone one day —

      'T was less for plunder, I think, than play —

      To a certain convent, small and poor,

      Where a dozen sisters lived secure

      For very poverty! dreaming not

      That any envied their humble lot.

      There, finding the door was locked and barred,

      They climbed the wall of a grass-grown yard.

      Some vines were planted along its side,

      Their trailing branches left room to hide;

      Where, neither by pity moved nor shame,

      They crouched, till one of the sisters came

      To gather herbs for the noonday meal;

      Then out from under the leaves they steal!

      So she was taken, poor soul, and bound,

      And carried off to our camping ground.

      A harmless creature, who knew no more

      Of the world outside her convent door,

      Than you or I of the moon up there!

      A shame, to take her in such a snare!

      "But, Father, I wished that I had been

      Ten miles away, when they brought her in,

      To hold for ransom; or if that failed —

      Oh, well, we knew when the pirates sailed!

      We knew their captain, who paid us well,

      And carried our prisoners off to sell.

      They never beheld their country more,

      Being bought for slaves on a foreign shore.

      "But oh! 't was enough the tears to bring,

      To see that innocent, frightened thing,

      Looking, half hopeful, from face to face,

      As if she thought, in that wicked place,

      There might be one who would take her part!

      She looked at me, and it stung my heart.

      But I, with a hard, disdainful air,

      Turned from her as one who did not care,

      I heard her sighing: she did not know

      That her gentle look had hurt me so!

      "That night they set me the watch to keep;

      And when the others were all asleep,

      And I had been moving to and fro,

      With branches keeping the fire aglow,

      I crept along to the woman's side, —

      She sat apart, and her arms were tied, —

      And said, – 't was only a whispered word;

      We both were lost if the others heard, —

      'If you will trust me and with me come,

      I 'll bring you safe to your convent home.'

      She started, into my face she gazed;

      Said she, 'I'll trust you – the Lord be praised!'

      "I very quickly the cords unbound.

      She rose; I led her without a sound

      Between the rows of the sleeping men,

      Till we left the camp behind; and then

      I found my horse, that was tied near by.

      The woman mounted, and she and I

      Set off in haste, through the midnight shade,

      On the wildest journey I ever made!

      By wood and thicket the horse I led,

      And over a torrent's stony bed, —

      For along the road I dared not go,

      For fear that the others our flight should know,

      And follow after; the woman prayed.

      I, quick and cautious, but not afraid,

      Went first, with the stars for guide, until

      We saw the convent, high on a hill.

      We reached the door as the east grew red.

      'God will remember!' was all she said;

      Her face was full of a sweet content.

      She knocked, they opened, and in she went.

      The door СКАЧАТЬ