Acknowledge his bounty in
your soul; it may bring a blessing on your last moment."
"Holy priest, I hope I do. But what says this?--"
Don Francesco took a note from the hand of a servant and read its
contents eagerly; the world and its feelings having too much hold on
his heart to be plucked out in an instant. Indeed so sudden had been his
arrest, trial, and conviction, that it is not surprising the priest
found in him a divided spirit, even at an instant like that. His
countenance fell, and he passed a hand before his eyes, as if to conceal
a weakness that was unbecoming.
"They have denied my request, father," he said, "and I must die like a
felon--"
"The Son of God suffered on the cross suspended between thieves."
"I believe there is far less in these opinions than we are accustomed to
think--yet it is cruel for one who has filled so high employments--a
prince--a Caraccioli, to die like a lazzarone!"
"Grandfather--"
"Did you speak, child? I wonder not that this indignity should fill thee
with horror."
"It is not _that_, grandfather," resumed Ghita, shaking off her doubts
and looking up with flushed cheeks and a face radiant with holy
feelings--"Oh! it is not _that_. If my life could save thine, gladly
would I give it up for such a purpose; but do not--do not--at this awful
moment mistake the shadow for the substance. What matters it how death
is met when it opens the gates of heaven? Pain, I am sure, _you_ cannot
fear;--even I, weak and feeble girl that I am, can despise _that_--what
other honor can there be in the hour of death than to be thought worthy
of the mercy and care of God? Caraccioli or lazzarone--prince or
beggar--it will matter not two hours hence; and let me reverently beg of
you to humble your thoughts to the level which becomes all sinners.
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