GERONIMO RESURRECTED.

The clock in the steeple of Saint George struck seven, and night was coming on, when Julio opened the garden-gate of his master’s country-seat and walked with a light step towards the house.

He kept one hand wrapped in his cloak, as if to conceal some object; the other was in his pocket, turning over the gold pieces given him by Simon Turchi.  Joy sparkled in his eyes, as he said to himself: 

“God be praised!  I resisted the temptation.  They urged me to drink and play at the ‘Swan,’ but my gold coins reminded me that I had a serious duty to perform.  After work comes the recompense.  What I hold in my hand will indemnify me for the thirst I have suffered and for the time lost.  It is the very best Spanish wine-as dear as if it were melted silver, and as strong as if it were liquid fire.”

On entering a room in the house, he drew two bottles from his doublet and one from under his cloak, placed them upon the table, and looked at them longingly.

“No, no, not now; presently!  Business first.  Your bewitching smile cannot seduce me.  Patience, my friends; an hour hence we will become acquainted.  To fill up a grave and roll some empty casks into the cellar is a small matter.  But it is getting so dark that I can no longer distinguish the image of the emperor on the gold pieces; I must light the lamp.”

Taking a wooden box from the mantelpiece, he drew out a flint and struck it.  It was some time before the tinder took fire, and Julio laughed at his own failures; but at last he succeeded in his efforts, and a large lamp made the whole room bright with its rays.

Julio approached the table and said: 

“Now at least I can gratify the desire which has irritated my nerves during the last hour.  To possess two hundred crowns, to be as rich as a banker, to feel my pockets weighed down by gold, and still unable to feast my eyes on the treasure!  Now I am alone; there is no one to ask whence it came.  The time has arrived.  I may enjoy my wealth without anxiety!”

He drew an arm-chair to the table, reclined in it comfortably, with extended limbs, and placed the gold coin by handfuls under the light of the lamp.

After searching his pocket and doublet and convincing himself that all the crowns were spread out before him, he heaped them up and ran his hands through them as if to enjoy the sparkle and jingle of the gold.  He held his breath, for fear of losing the least sound; with eyes wide open he contemplated the brilliant treasure.

For a long time Julio remained, with a smile of happiness upon his lips, in mute admiration, and, perhaps scarcely aware of what he was doing, he ranged the crowns in a line and counted them; then he separated them into piles of twenty pieces each; then he tossed them from hand to hand, until, wearied of this amusement, he looked at them musingly.  At last he exclaimed in a joyous outbreak: 

“Two hundred crowns!  What will I do with them?  How will I spend them?  Shall I drink Malmsey, Muscatel, the very best, such as brings pleasure to the heart?  But at that rate I shall soon see the end of my money.  Shall I play for florins and crowns?  That would be an excellent means, certainly, of either becoming a hundred times richer or of losing every farthing.  Strange! how fearful and avaricious money makes me!  I do not even care to play; no, I will not do it.  I will dress like a nobleman:  in satin, velvet, and silk; I will drink and eat of the most exquisite dishes; I will Jive in luxury and abundance, as though the world were a terrestrial paradise.  Ah, what a glorious life!

“But what a cowardly wretch I am!  My only anxiety is to know how to spend or rather squander this treasure, and at this moment there lives, far from me, one who perhaps is stretching out her hand to me to beg an alms!  My poor mother! she may even need bread.  Were she to curse her ungrateful son, would he not have deserved it a hundred times?  I am afraid of myself!  With ten crowns, with the twentieth part of what I am going to throw away in dissipation, she might be saved from misery for more than a year.  Why did I not give twenty crowns to my master to send to her?  Suppose I return to the factory to execute this good thought?  Impossible!  Signor Turchi would be enraged; besides, I have no confidence in him.  I will inquire, when in Germany, if she still lives, and if she be in want I will send her money.”

He took up twenty crowns, one by one, from the table, counted them, regarded them wistfully, and said, as he dropped them into his pocket: 

“Twenty crowns! that is a large sum; but it may make my blind old mother happy.  I will put her portion by itself.”

His eye again rested on the glittering coin.  The sight appeared to deject him.

“How visibly it has diminished!” he said, sighing.  “I believed my treasure inexhaustible, and by one thought the twentieth part has disappeared.  Will it not go as fast in Germany?  Will not gambling and drinking deprive me of the whole in a few months and leave me in misery?  What sombre thoughts!  A moment ago, and everything wore a smiling aspect; now, my mind is tortured by fear and anxiety.  But why need I be troubled?  When I have spent the two hundred crowns, Signor Turchi will send me more.  But it is not well to rely too much upon that; his head may fall under the axe of the executioner.  In that case I would be as badly off myself.  The discovery would drive me from Germany into Netherlands or Italy.  Instead of living in luxury, I would infallibly fall into the lion’s jaw, and the gallows or the wheel would be my well-merited fate.  But if the murderer of Geronimo be not discovered, I can return quietly, and my master would receive me kindly for fear I would betray his secret.  That depends in a great measure upon my care in acquitting myself of the task entrusted to me.  I will accomplish it loyally and well.  The sight of this gold no longer gives me pleasure.  A full cup of wine first, and then to work bravely!”

He uncorked one of the bottles and half emptied it; then muttering a few words as to the strength and energy imparted by the liquor, he took the lamp, and fixing his eye on the bottle, said: 

“It will take me only a few minutes to throw the body into the grave and fill it up; but the rest of the work will require more than an hour.  That is a long time to be separated from you, is it not?  To keep me company, I will take the half-empty bottle; that will not hinder me from doing my duty properly; on the contrary, it will give me courage and strength.  Now to work!”

He re-corked the bottle, put it inside of his doublet, took the lamp, and slowly descended the staircase.

The passage leading to the cellar in which Julio had thrown Geronimo’s body was rather long, and he had time to feel the effect of the wine, and it so raised his spirits that he commenced jesting about hid past anxiety, and on nearing the cellar he sang the first notes of a joyful song.

But the words expired upon his lips, he trembled in every limb, and turned ashy pale.

A voice answered him from the cellar.

Immovable from terror, Julio fixed his eyes upon the door, and strove to comprehend the words which fell indistinctly upon his ear.

“Heavens!” he exclaimed, “it is Geronimo; he lives!”

Shuddering, he withdrew a short distance down the passage, and was for a time as motionless as a statue.  At last, with deep emotion, he said: 

“What can this mean?  The signor said at the first thrust his dagger met metal, but that the wound in his neck was deep.  Suppose it were merely a flesh-wound?  What shall I do?  Shall I let him live?”

He was painfully undecided.

“Impossible!” he said.  “It would be the death-warrant of both my master and myself.  I must choose between his death and ours.  Implacable fatality urges me on-in truth, I have no choice.  One blow, and all is over!  I must not hesitate; my knife is sharp.”

He drew his dagger from its scabbard, examined the blade, tried it with his finger.  He shuddered, and a cry of horror escaped him.

“Fatal position!” he exclaimed.  “To kill a man in cold blood! an innocent man!  What harm has poor Geronimo ever done me?  Stab him!  My heart fails me-I cannot perpetrate such a cruelty.  And yet, and yet I must!  The crime horrifies me, but I have no alternative.  Only by the sacrifice of his life can my master escape the scaffold, and I the gallows.  Fate irresistibly pursues me; I am the slave of necessity-I must follow whither it leads!”

With staggering step and in a blind frenzy, Julio ran down the passage, caught his dagger between his teeth, put the key in the lock, and turned the light so that it might fall upon his victim.

He stopped trembling in the middle of the cellar, and pity filled his soul as his eye rested on Geronimo.  He had indeed drawn his dagger to complete the horrible crime; but now, touched and moved by compassion, he considered the unfortunate young man, who extended to him his suppliant hands and begged for help.

Geronimo was kneeling on the side of the grave which had been dug to receive his corpse.  His face was partly covered with clotted blood; the portion visible was excessively pale, and his cheeks were so sunken that those few days of suffering had left only the skin to cover his bones.  His eyes, rolling wildly, were sunk in their sockets; his neck, weakened by the wound, could not support his head, which fell upon his right shoulder.  His clothes were blood-stained and covered with dirt.  It was evident that in his struggle against death he had dragged himself around the tomb to try, if possible, to escape it.

“Whoever you may be,” cried out Geronimo, “for the love of God, one drop of water!”

His voice was weak, but capable of moving the hardest heart.

Julio shook his head, without speaking.

“Water! water!” repeated the young man.  “I am burning up, consumed by thirst.  Water! water! one drop of water!  Save me from a frightful death!”

Moved by pity and forgetting, as it were, his own situation, Julio thrust his hand under his doublet, drew out the bottle, uncorked it, and without speaking gave it to the wounded gentleman.  He uttered a cry of joy, seized the bottle with feverish energy, and kissed with transport the hand which presented him the saving beverage.

Julio, with palpitating heart, watched the unfortunate Geronimo, as with trembling joy he placed the bottle to his lips, as if the contents were imparting to him a new life.

And indeed, after having quaffed a deep draught, Geronimo appeared to have new strength; for a sweet smile appeared upon his face, his eyes sparkled with gratitude, and lifting his hands to Julio, he said: 

“May God bless you! you have saved me from a frightful death.  May Heaven hear my prayer and reward you on the day of judgment for all the good I may have done in my life.  The light blinded me; I could not see.  Are you not Julio?”

This recognition struck Geronimo with terror, and in a feeble and discouraged voice he said: 

“Julio, Julio, you pushed me into the chair!”

Then seeing the dagger in Julio’s hands, he shuddered.

“A dagger in your hand!  Ah! you come to kill me?”

“Yes, signor,” replied Julio, sadly, “I come to take your life; but do not suppose I fulfil this fatal mission without emotion; on the contrary, my heart bleeds for you, and I feel an indescribable repugnance to deal the fatal blow.”

“Ah! you are not merciless; you will have pity on me,” said Geronimo.

“Impossible!” replied Julio.  “Fatality governs us both; it has irrevocably condemned you to death, and me to inhumanity.  All prayer, all supplication is useless; nothing can save your life.  I beg you, signor, not to increase the difficulties of my task; accept with resignation a fate you cannot escape.”

A sharp cry escaped Geronimo, as these unfeeling words convinced him that all hope was lost.

“My God!” he exclaimed, “is it then true that this dungeon is to become my tomb?  Must I die without confession?  Shall my body lie in unconsecrated ground?  Oh, mercy! mercy!”

“Necessity is a merciless law, signor,” replied Julio, “and I have more cause than you to complain of its harshness.  You, at least, will receive in heaven the recompense of your innocent life, while I must commit here a crime from which I recoil with horror, but which is forced upon me by an irresistible power, and for which my poor soul will stand accused before the judgment-seat of God.  But do not cherish a deceitful hope; there is no hope for you.  Before I depart from here, that grave must receive your body.  That I did not immediately on entering fulfil my sad mission is partly owing to the fact that an uncontrollable compassion paralyzed my arm, but still more, to my desire to afford you time to say some prayers.  Therefore prepare your soul for its last passage.  I will wait patiently even for a quarter of an hour.  Pray with a tranquil mind-I will not strike without giving notice.”

Saying these words, Julio put down the lamp replaced his dagger in its scabbard, and seated himself on a block of wood which was in a corner of the cellar.

Geronimo, overwhelmed by Julio’s insensibility, bowed his head upon his breast.  For some time he neither spoke nor moved, seeming to accept his fate with complete resignation.  But the terror of death again possessed him.

“Impossible!” he exclaimed.  “You will not kill me, Julio?  I conjure you, by your soul’s salvation, not to imbrue your hands in my blood!”

And the unfortunate young man endeavored to drag his feeble body to Julio’s feet; but the latter drew his dagger in a threatening manner.

Geronimo uttered a cry of despair, crawled back to the side of the grave, and fell exhausted on the ground, where he bewept his sad fate.

His stifled sobs were so heart-breaking that Julio’s soul was stirred within him, and without being conscious of it, he wiped away the tears which fell from his eyes.

In a voice full of compassion he said: 

“Come, signor, be calm, and submit with resignation to the irrevocable decree of fate.  When one has lived like you in the fear of God, honorably and loyally, death is but the passage to a better life.”

A cry of indignation mingled with the convulsive sobs of the young gentleman.

“I understand you,” said Julio; “you think that my pity is a cruel irony; you believe me to be inhuman.  Even in the tomb you might justly call down malédictions on the head of the murderer who of his own will and choice would deprive you of life.  But, alas! signor, I have neither will nor choice in the matter.  To-morrow the officers of justice will search this house and cellar.”

“To-morrow!” exclaimed Geronimo, a new hope-springing up in his heart.

“If I let you live, they would infallibly find you here,” pursued Julio.  “This hope inspires you with joy; vain hope! signor, for should it be realized, my master would perish on the scaffold, and I would expiate my crime on the gallows!”

“Julio,” said Geronimo, beseechingly, “I will remove all suspicion from you; I will declare you innocent; I will reward you magnificently.”

“It would be useless, signor.  The law knows no mercy.  My master would betray the part I had in the deed; and do you think the judges would pardon me for having pushed you into the chair?”

“Save me, spare my life, Julio; and if necessary for your acquittal, I will kneel to the bailiff, I will appeal to the emperor himself.”

“There is another reason, unknown to you, signor,” replied Julio, bitterly.  “I am a fugitive, condemned to death by the laws of Italy.  My master alone knows my real name.  The least infidelity on my part would make him deliver me into the hands of those who for five years have been seeking me.  Think you, then, that it is in my power to spare you?  It is my own and my master’s death you demand.  And what a death!  For him, the axe of the executioner and eternal infamy to his family; for me, the rack, the wheel, the gallows.  Do not blame me then, signor; do not contend against implacable fate; employ your last moments in prayer, or tell me that you are ready to receive the mortal blow.  Nothing can save you; that open tomb tells you a sad but pitiless truth.  Again I beg you, signor, lift up your heart to God, and do not force me to make use of sudden violence.”

“Die so young and guiltless!” lamented Geronimo.  “Never again to see the light of heaven!  O Mary, my beloved! how you will deplore my fate!  My poor uncle! sorrow will bring your gray hairs to the grave!”

The accents of despair made Julio shudder; but he said, in a cold manner: 

“Are you ready, signor?”

“A moment more, one moment for prayer!” said Geronimo.

He joined his hands and uttered a fervent prayer; but although he apparently accepted his fate with resignation, it was equally evident that his soul struggled against the death which was hanging over him.

By degrees, however, prayer brought resignation and consolation to Geronimo, for the nervous trembling of his limbs ceased and his voice became more distinct and calm.

Julio fixed his eyes on Geronimo, and his heart was touched when he thought he heard him ask pardon of God for his enemies; but when the lips of the young man pronounced his own name in ardent supplication, and he distinctly heard his unfortunate victim praying for the soul of his murderer, Julio dropped his knife, and said, with a deep sigh: 

“My courage has forsaken me!  I have not the strength to accomplish this cruel act.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Geronimo, as Julio pronounced these words, “it is a voice from heaven speaking to your heart.  Hearken to it.  Have pity on me! spare my life!”

Julio was too absorbed in his own thoughts to heed Geronimo.  In accents of despair he muttered: 

“Frightful situation!  Beside the very grave I have dug for him, he prays for my soul!  And can I shed his blood?  But there is no help for it.  I must-I must!”

The young gentleman remarked the struggle in Julio’s soul, and he mustered up all his strength to approach him; but Julio, seeing Geronimo’s design, picked up his knife, took the lamp, and left the cellar, saying: 

“It is useless, signor.  Fate is more powerful than we are; and struggle as we may against its inevitable decrees, they must be accomplished!  The sight of your sorrow has deprived me of all courage.  I go to regain strength.  I will soon return.  Be prepared, for this time I will act without delay!”

He closed the door and walked slowly down the passage.  Having reached his room, he stamped with anger, uttered desperate words, struck his forehead with his fist, vented his impatience, because he could see no solution of his difficulties.  He paced the room like a madman, fought the air, stopped, resumed his walk,-until exhausted he threw himself into a chair.  Sorrow, anguish, and rage, by turns were depicted on his countenance.  He lamented the necessity of the murder, and complained in bitter terms of his sad fate.  But in vain he tortured his brain-not a ray of light came to illumine his darkness.  The pitiless “I must do it!” was the invariable refrain.

By chance his eye fell upon the two bottles which he had placed upon the table, and as if the sight had inspired him with a sudden resolution, he seized one of the bottles, uncorked it, and putting it to his lips, drank a long draught, stopped a moment for breath, then emptied the bottle.

He remained some time immovable as if to test the influence of the wine on his mind, swallowed half of the second bottle, drew his dagger, took the lamp, and descended the stairs, saying: 

“Now my courage will not fail me!  No more words:  a single blow and all will be over!  I must strike him in the back; he wears a cuirass on his breast.”

Opening the door of the cellar, he placed the lamp on the ground without speaking, and raising his dagger, he walked directly towards Geronimo, who lifted his hands imploringly.

Within a few steps of his victim, Julio, with an exclamation of surprise, stopped suddenly as if immovable.  His eye fell upon an object which Geronimo held in his hand and extended to him, as though it had power to turn aside the mortal blow.

It was a flat copper medal, in the centre of which was a cross and other emblems, and attached to it was a bright steel chain.

Julio, forgetful of what he was about to do, sprang forward, seized the strange medal, examined it closely, and said, in astonishment: 

“This amulet in your hands, signor!  What does it mean?  How came you by it?”

Geronimo, whose every thought was fixed upon death, was too much startled by the sudden transition to reply immediately.

“Speak, tell me whence comes this amulet?  Who gave it to you?”

“From Africa-from a blind woman,” answered Geronimo, almost unintelligibly.

“In Africa?  And the woman’s name?” said Julio, beside himself with impatience.

“Mostajo.  Teresa Mostajo!”

“Teresa Mostajo!  You are then the liberator of my poor blind mother!”

“Then you will spare my life!  God of mercy, I thank thee, there is still hope!”

But Julio heeded not the words of the young man.

“This amulet,” he said, “recalls my native village.  I see again my father, mother, friends.  I see myself as I was before dissipation led me to sin and vice.  This amulet, brought by my grandfather from Jerusalem, protected my father against many dangers, saved my mother’s life; and you, signor, you owe to the same amulet escape from a violent death, for it turned aside my master’s dagger from your breast.  Strange and mysterious power which thus shields the victim from his executioner!”

“Julio,” said Geronimo, “keep me not in suspense.  Say that you will not take my life.  Be merciful to the man whose name is blessed by the lips of your mother!”

“Fear not, signor; rather than shed one drop of your blood, I would pay the penalty of my guilty life on the gallows.  But I must reflect upon our peculiar situation, for my mind is not clear; perhaps I may discover a means of escape.  Do not disturb me, I beg you.”

He withdrew to the corner of the cellar where he had been previously seated, and remained motionless for some time, without giving any sign of the agitation of his mind.

Geronimo regarded him at first with a look of joyful anticipation; by degrees, however, his face wore an expression of sadness and surprise; it seemed to him that Julio had fallen asleep.  He was mistaken, however, for Julio arose after a while, and said: 

“Now I see my way clearly.  I will save you, signor; but in doing that, I might as well avoid securing a halter for myself.  You must have patience until to-morrow.  It is now about nine o’clock in the evening, and the time, I know, will be very long to you.  But you must submit to a condition which is necessary for the preservation of my own life.  To-morrow, at daybreak, I shall quit the city and country.  Before leaving, I will set you at liberty.  Do not attempt to shake my resolution; let me go now, signor, and expect with confidence your deliverance.”

Geronimo joined his hands, and said, feebly: 

“Thanks, thanks, and may the good God show you the mercy you have shown to me!  I have yet a favor to implore, a benefit to ask.”

“Speak, signor, what do you wish?”

“It is long since I awoke from my death-like stupor.  I know not how long, and I am tormented by hunger and thirst; you have kept life in me by the wine so kindly bestowed, but now my body demands nourishment.  Give me bread.”

“Bread!” said Julio, “there is not a mouthful of food in the house.”

But seeing Geronimo’s eyes fixed in supplication upon him, he added: 

“It is not late; perhaps I may find some shop still open.  I will return presently; remain quiet, and have no anxiety, signor.”

He took the lamp, left the cellar, closing the door after him, and ascended to his room.  There folding his arms, he began to muse: 

“How strange! the young merchant who, at the risk of his own life, defended my mother from her Moslem master, who paid her ransom, and liberated her from slavery-that merchant was Geronimo!  By some mysterious influence the amulet protected his heart from the blade of his vindictive enemy; and when I am about to shed his blood, behold, the amulet paralyzes my arm.  It is incomprehensible!”

The current of his thoughts changed.  Seizing the half empty bottle, he drank its contents.

“Strange,” said he, “how the bad effects of liquor are controlled by the emotions!  I have taken enough to deprive me of consciousness, and I feel my mind as clear as though I had not touched a drop.  This last draught, however, has mounted to my brain.  So it is decreed that my master, Simon Turchi, must die upon the scaffold?  It is disagreeable for both of us, but I could not help it.  I shall not know what to do when the two hundred crowns are spent; necessity will force me to seek other resources, even at the risk of the gallows, and in all probability the fatal noose will encircle my neck.  Bah! if it is predestined, who can prevent it?  My master and I will receive only what we deserve.  But I am forgetting the starving young gentleman; I must go out to procure him some food.  It will be a fine opportunity to drink a pint of wine at the Swan; that cannot be closed yet, for gamblers do not keep early hours.  Only one pint in passing! not more, for if my reason became clouded, I cannot answer for the consequences; but there is no need to fear that, for my life is at stake.  I will return in half an hour.”

He extinguished the lamp, and hastily traversed the garden.