Isabella Orsini

A Historical Novel of the Fifteenth Century

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CHAPTER I.
GUILT.

But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not.

So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself and said unto them: 'He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.' * * * *

And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more.

—St. John viii.

"Ave Maria! O being, at whose sight the Eternal One was persuaded to offer himself as an expiatory victim to the irrevocable justice of his laws, for the race of which thou wast born; O Virgin! into whose bosom God penetrated like the purest ray into clear water; O Mother! who in thy bosom, better than in the Holy Ark, barest Divinity, have mercy upon me.

"Ave Maria! Queen of Heaven: God has surrounded thee with the most loving angels that he ever created in the exultation of his glory. God has chosen from the fields of the firmament the most brilliant stars to form thy crown; beneath thy feet has he placed the sun and moon. Christ reposes on thy arm as on a high throne to govern creation. Thou that canst do all things, have mercy upon me.

"Ave Maria! God shed his own blood in observance of the decrees of his law. Thou conquerest even those decrees, for when loving appeals failed, thou didst remove the eternal from thy holy arm, and didst kneel before him, to win by thy prayers what thy request had failed to obtain; for what man or God could see his mother prostrate at his feet and disdainfully spurn her? God is above, not against nature. Mercy then, oh, have mercy upon me!

"Ave Maria! If thou but turnest one look of kindness upon the soul of the parricide, lo, it will become as pure as that of the babe newly baptized. Thou that hast a tear for every sorrow, thou that from misery hast learned to relieve the unfortunate, thou that bringest a balm for every wound, good counsel for every fallen one, help for every fault, protection from every crime, wilt thou be deaf to me alone?

"Does the contemplation of thy heavenly glories dissuade thee from casting down thine eyes upon this vale of tears? Have the praises of the angels caused the groans of thy servants to become wearisome? Mother of thy Creator, hast thou forgotten thy earthly origin? Is it in heaven above, as in this world below!

"Ah, unhappy me! Most miserable! My mind reels and staggers like a drunken man. I am beyond measure inebriated with grief, and my rash words flow from my mouth like the wind of a tempest.

"Holy Mary, pardon! Thou knowest that even when a child, leaving my warm bed to bathe my feet in the dewy grass, I went to gather the flowers that drank the first rays of the morning sun for thee. Thou knowest that I have watched like a vestal, so that the light consecrated to thee on the domestic altar should not be extinguished; and if I committed any act not worthy of thy holy sight, I first veiled thy face, and afterwards implored thy pardon. In thee alone I trust.

"My blood is inflamed, and the very marrow of my bones consumed by a love....

"Who called it love? Did I say love? Ah, in pity let no one know it—let no one hear it—let my ears not listen to the words from my own lips! Madness! Ah, what matter if I have hell in my heart? Yes, an infamous love burns within me; a love to make even the angels weep. O holy Mary, do not look into my soul! All the saints in Paradise, even thou, immaculate Virgin! would'st blush for shame to behold my secret heart.

"And yet this passion burns so secretly, that no one, looking on my pale face, could say: 'Behold an adulteress!' Who among the living can tell whether guilt or grief consumes me? As a sepulchral lamp burns, lighting up human skeletons without diffusing its rays abroad, so my love lives within my soul, shining upon the miserable relics of my contaminated virtue.

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