Pedro looked his grat.i.tude, thought there was only one colonel in the world, and he stood before him. To be strong and merciful is to win hearts.

"There is more interest for me in this little crowd than in all your ecclesiastical outlines," said the colonel. "I never saw a building that I did not tire of in a week, but my work and my men interest me more year by year. I feel I have something to live for."

He was small and wiry, this colonel, with piercing dark eyes and a mouth of which a fierce moustache could not conceal the kindliness. One wished him a finer body of men than these recruits, too many of whom were of the lowest type and had not, to use his own metaphor, even the inch of wood that would bear carving.

"That need not greatly trouble you," he said. "It is surprising how many are the exceptions. After all, it is a survival of the fittest. But I see you are interested in humanity just as much as I am," noting how we followed every movement and expression of this pathetic little crowd.

"So far your resources are wider than mine, for when on the subject of old buildings you are as absorbed as in front of this little drama. My interests are more restricted. Well then, if you like to come to my office to-morrow morning at ten you shall have more food for your sympathies. We will interview that poor woman together and see how far we can minister consolation to the widow and fatherless."

This was not one's idea of severe military discipline, but we could not help admiring a nature that after years of experience and repeated discouragements--in spite of what he had said--still possessed so warm a heart, so much of human faith. No doubt he had shown a little of his true self on the spur of the moment, influenced by the above incidents.

All his kindliness of feeling was kept well out of sight of others. The next instant he had pa.s.sed beyond the sentry and was holding forth in tones hard as the Pyramids, cold as the Sphinx.

CHAPTER VI.

ANSELMO THE PRIEST.

Beauties of age--Apostles' Doorway--How the old bishops kept out of temptation--Interior of cathedral--Its vast nave--Days of Charlemagne--And of the Moors--A giant dwarfed--Rare choir--Surly priest--And a more kindly--Our showman--Dazzling treasures--Father Anselmo--Romantic story--Heaven or the world?--Doubts--The gentle Rosalie decides--Sister Anastasia--Told in the sacristy--A heart-confession--Anselmo's mysticism--Heresy--Charms of antiquity--Scene of his triumph--Celestial vision--Church of San Pedro--Pagan interior--Rare cloisters--Desecrated church--Singular scene--Chiaroscuro--Miguel the carpenter--His opinions--Daily life a religion--Anselmo improves his opportunity--"A reflected light"--Ruined citadel--War of Succession--Alvarez and Marshall--Gerona in decadence--A revelation--Dreamland--Midday vision.

The colonel disappeared, and we went our way through narrow, tortuous, deserted wynds until we found ourselves in the quaint cathedral square.

Here again we were surrounded by the beauties of antiquity. Before us was the south front of the cathedral with its deeply-arched Apostles'

Doorway at which we had knocked in vain last night. At right angles, its grey walls of exactly the same tone as the cathedral, was the Bishop's Palace, its picturesque windows guarded by ancient ironwork. Why so carefully secured? Had the mediaeval bishops feared a reversal of things--serenades from fair dames yielding to the charm of forbidden fruit? Or mistrusting their own strength had wisely put temptation out of reach? Ancient walls are discreet and disclose nothing.

The outer gloom was intensified when we pa.s.sed within the cathedral.

After a time pillars and arches and outlines grew more or less visible, a shadowy distinctness full of mystery, appealing to the senses.

The vast nave is the widest Gothic vault in existence and on entering strikes one with astonishment. So bold was the architect's design considered that it created consternation in the minds of Bishop, Dean and Chapter then ruling. Council after council was summoned and opinions were taken from the great architects of foreign countries. Finally a jury of twelve men was appointed who gave their verdict in favour of Boffy, and the nave was erected.

This was in the year 1416. There had existed a cathedral on this very spot since the eighth century and the days of Charlemagne. Like so many of those early cathedrals it was pulled down and rebuilt; and sometimes it happened that the new was no improvement on the old. This was not the case with Gerona. The cathedral was rebuilt in 1016, but the nave was reserved for Boffy and his genius four hundred years later. That early cathedral was turned into a mosque when the Moors took Gerona, but they allowed Catholic services to be held in the Church of San Filiu, close at hand, now shorn of part of its spire. In 1015 the Moors were expelled and the old cathedral was reinstated.

The nave has the fault of being too short, and Boffy could not fail to see that it wants in proportion. Either s.p.a.ce or funds failed him, and the giant had to be dwarfed. Still it remains gigantic with a clear width of seventy-three feet. Toulouse, next in width, has sixty-three feet; Westminster Abbey only thirty-eight feet. For the effect of contrast the smaller choir and aisles throw up the proportions of the vast vault. Over all is its wonderful tone; whilst the obscure light brings out the pointed arches of choir and chapels and the slender fluted pillars in softened outlines.

The choir has a magnificent retablo and baldachino of wood and silver: a rare work of art dating back to the year 1320: so promising that we wished to see the treasures of the sacristy. It was the duty of a certain priest to show them. The priests take the office in turn. To-day he whose turn it was proved unamiable. "He would not show them; had other things to do; we must come another day," hurriedly b.u.t.toning his heavy black cloak as he spoke; an ill-favoured example of his race, short, swarthy, unshaven. We explained that our hours were limited.

Without further parley he marched rapidly down the aisle, cloak flying, hobnailed shoes waking desecrating echoes.

Then another and kindlier priest came up; altogether a different and more refined specimen of humanity. He would gladly show us the treasures if we would wait whilst he sought the keys. With these he soon returned and thought he had been long. "I am sorry to keep you," he said, "but they were not in their place. Now let me turn showman and do the honours."

Leading the way into the large sacristy he unlocked a cupboard and took out a key. With this he opened a drawer and took out another key. The treasure was well guarded. Finally he swung back great doors and our eyes were dazzled as he lighted a beautiful old lamp whose rays flashed upon gemmed and jewelled crooks and crosses, enamelled plates and chalice, a wealth of gold and silver ornaments, many dating back to the twelfth century. Some of the crosses were magnificent in design and execution, some had strange and interesting histories. Then he showed us rare and wonderful needlework rich in gold thread and coloured silks, also dating back seven or eight hundred years. He explained everything in a quaint fashion of his own, then took us through a series of rooms each having its special attraction. Amongst the pictures were one or two of rare merit and a very early period.

These rooms and their treasures were well worth the little trouble it had cost to see them. Moreover we were brought into contact with an amiable ecclesiastic full of refinement and romance.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CATHEDRAL CLOISTERS: GERONA.]

"It is a pleasure to show them to you," he said, when we thanked him. "I love all these things amongst which my life has been spent, for I hardly recall the time when I was not attached to the cathedral. As a child I was an acolyte, and remember the delight with which I used to turn the wheel at the altar and listen to its silver chiming. I was never happy but in church, attending on the priests, filling every office permitted to a boy. From the age of ten I determined to be a priest myself and never lost sight of that hope--though I once hesitated. But I was poor, and don't know whether it would have come to pa.s.s unaided by one of our canons who was rich and good; educated and half adopted me, and dying four years ago left me a sufficient portion of his wealth. I almost think of myself as one of those romances which only occasionally happen in life. But there was a moment"--he smiled almost sadly--"when I was sorely tempted to abandon religion for the world."

"For what reason?" we asked, for he paused. Evidently he wished the question, and there was something so interesting about him that we were willing to linger and listen.

"A very ordinary reason. I daresay you can guess, for it was the old, old story: nothing less than love. I had not yet taken religious vows and was free to choose. Should it be earth or heaven? Few perhaps have been more completely enthralled than I. Walking and sleeping my thoughts were filled with the gentle Rosalie. She was beautiful and I thought her perfect. Outward grace witnessed to her inward purity of soul.

"To make my conflict harder, she returned all my affection. It was perhaps singular that her life too had been destined to the cloister, as mine to the Church. For one whole year we both struggled, miserable and unsettled. Every fresh meeting only seemed to strengthen our attachment.

An excellent opening in the world presented itself--might we take this as an indication that Heaven favoured our desires? It was a sore strait and perhaps we should not have done wrong to yield. During the daylight hours it seemed so. But night after night I awoke with one verse ringing in my ears: 'He that having put his hand to the plough looketh back, is not fit for the Kingdom of Heaven.' In my excited, almost diseased imagination, the text seemed to stand out in the darkness in letters of fire. I tossed and turned upon my troubled bed. Drops of anguish would break upon my brow. On the one hand bliss that seemed infinite; surrounded by all the false colouring and attraction of forbidden fruit.

On the other the sure service of Heaven--a higher, n.o.bler destiny without doubt.

"I grew pale and emaciated under my heart-fever. If left to my own decision I know not how it would have ended: perhaps in yielding. My gentle Rosalie proved the stronger vessel.

"One morning--shall I ever forget it?--the sun was shining, the skies were blue, birds and flowers were at their best and brightest, song and perfume filled the air, I received a letter in the beloved handwriting.

Before opening it I felt that it held our fate and knew its contents.

The soul is never mistaken in such crises.

"'Anselmo, my beloved,' it said, 'my choice is made and I trust you not to render my difficult task impossible. Last night in a dream my mother visited me; so real her presence that I feel we have held communion together. Her face was full of a divine love and pity, and O so sad and sympathising. Suddenly she pointed and I saw two roads before me. On each I recognised myself. On the one broad road you walked with me hand in hand. We were both bowed and broken and foot-sore. We seemed unhappy, full of care and sorrow. Romance and sunshine? They had fled with the long past years. Nothing was left but to lay down our burden and die.

"'On the other road I walked alone, but I was strong, upheld by unseen support. The way was long, yet my footsteps never wearied. I wore the dress of a Sister of Mercy. At the far, far end, bathed in divine light, a glorified being yet yourself, you beckoned and seemed to await me.

Beyond you there was a faint vision of Paradise--I knew you had pa.s.sed to the higher life. Then my mother turned and spoke. Her voice still rings in my ears. "My child, in the world you should have tribulation such as you are not fitted to bear. Your path lies heavenward." Then she pointed upwards, seemed gradually to fade away, and I awoke. I felt it an indication accorded me, and rising, on my knees dedicated afresh my life to Heaven if it would deign to receive me. Beloved, you will help me; you will lighten my task. Though never united on earth, none the less do we belong to each other; none the less shall spend eternity together.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: INTERIOR OF CATHEDRAL: GERONA.]

"Even now," continued the priest, returning to his own narrative, his voice somewhat agitated: "even now I cannot always think quite calmly of that morning. I sat amidst the birds and flowers, spell-bound, heart-broken. The serene skies and laughing sunshine seemed to mock at my calamity. Earthly dreams were over. Never for a moment did I question Rosalie's decision or seek to turn it aside. I prayed for strength, and it was sent me. She became a Sister of Mercy, I a priest.

So our lives are pa.s.sing, dedicated to Heaven. Not for us the feverish joys of earth, but quiet streams undisturbed by worldly cares."

"And Rosalie? She still lives?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: CLOISTER OF SAN PEDRO: GERONA.]

"Yes, and in Gerona. Her new name is Sister Anastasia. We meet sometimes in the silent streets; sometimes at the bedside of the sick and dying; occasionally at the house of a friend. I believe that we are as devoted to each other as in the days of our youth, but it is love purified and refined, containing a thousand-fold more of real happiness than our first pa.s.sionate ecstasy. If we are to believe her vision, I shall be the first to enter the dark pa.s.sage and cross to the light beyond. It may yet be half a lifetime--who knows? I am only thirty-seven, Rosalie thirty-five--but whenever the summons comes for her, I feel that I shall be awaiting her on the divine sh.o.r.es."

We were seated in a room beyond the sacristy where silence and solitude reigned amidst the evidences of the past centuries on walls and crucifix and ancient Bibles--a delightful room in which to receive such a confession. A halo of romance surrounded our priestly guide; his pale, refined face glowed with a light from which, as he said, all earthly dross was purified. And yet he was evidently very human; sympathies and affections were not straitened; his interests in Gerona and its people were keenly alive. It was the kindliness of his nature had caused him to take compa.s.sion upon us when his more surly fellow-labourer in the vineyard had turned a deaf ear to our request.

But our golden moments were pa.s.sing; we could not linger for ever in old-world sacristies listening to heart-confessions. Treasures were locked up, keys placed in their hiding-places; we went back into the church and the closing of the great sacristy door echoed through the silent aisles. More beautiful and impressive seemed the wonderful interior each time we entered; a vision of arches and rare columns and exquisite windows wonderfully solemn and sacred. In darkened corners and gloomy recesses, in shadows lost in the high and vaulted roof, we fancied guardian angels lurked unseen, bringing rest for the heavy-laden, pardon for the sinner, strength for those who faint by the way.

"I have often felt it," said our companion, reading our thoughts by some secret influence; "and have stood here many and many an hour, utterly alone, lost in meditation. At times mysticism seems to take me captive.

Visions come to me, unsought, not desired; the church is full of a shining celestial choir; I hear music inaudible to earthly ears; the rustle of angels' wings surrounds me. These visions or experiences--call them what you will--have generally occurred after long fastings, when the spirit probably is less restrained by mortal bonds. But underlying all my days and action, an intangible incentive for good, I feel the influence of Rosalie. You see I am still mortal and the earthly must mix with the heavenly. Nor would I wish it otherwise as long as I have to minister to mortals, or how could I sympathise with the sin and sorrow and suffering around me? Even our Lord had to become human, that being in all things tempted like as we are, He is able to succour them that are tempted."

[Ill.u.s.tration: APOSTLES' DOORWAY AND BISHOP'S PALACE: GERONA.]

We were walking down the broad nave. Anselmo had thrown on his long cloak, which added grace and dignity to his tall slender figure. His pale face shone out in the surrounding gloom like a saintly influence.

What strange charm was about this man? In the course of a few moments we felt we had known him for years. He was singularly lovable and attractive. Underlying all his gentleness was an undercurrent of strength; an evident self-reliance, yet the reliance of one who leans on a higher support than his own. Here was one worthy of enduring friendship had our lines not been thrown far apart. As it was he too would disappear out of our life and we should see his face no more. But his memory would remain.

At the west doorway we turned and looked upon the splendid vision: the magnificent nave with its slender pillars and lofty roof, the distant choir with aisles and arches visible and invisible in the dim religious light that threw upon all its sense of mystery. Above all the wonderful tone.

"For five and twenty years I have looked upon this scene, and its influence upon me is as strong as ever," said the priest. "Here I have found that peace which pa.s.seth all understanding. How many a time have I let myself in with my key, and in these solitary aisles withdrawn from the world to hold communion with the unseen. Here strength has come to fight life's battles. Here I have composed many a sermon, here silently confessed my sins to the Almighty and obtained pardon. Breathe not the heresy, but confession to man brings me no rest. I have to go to the great Fountain Head, trusting in the one Atonement and one Mediator.

Nothing else gives me consolation."

We crossed to the doorway of the cloisters. Anselmo, unwilling to leave us, crossed also. We were too glad of his companionship to wish it otherwise. He added much to the spell of our surroundings; a central figure from which all interest radiated. It was pa.s.sing from the gloom of the interior to the broad light of day subdued by the grey clouds that hid the sunshine.

The cloisters reposed in all the charm of antiquity. For eight hundred years Time had rolled over them with all its subtle influence. There they stood, an irregular quadrangle, the simple, beautiful round arches resting on coupled shafts, whose carved capitals were so singularly elaborate and delicate. Seldom had the attraction of Romanesque architecture been more evident.