"O, Dianora! my daughter—my child!" he exclaimed, in accents of the deepest grief: "O, madonna, have mercy upon me! Holy Trinity, have mercy upon me! Dianora, my blessed one! Saint Euphemio, pray for her! Saint Magdalene, pray for her! Sweet lady of Burello!—beatified Rosalia!—thrice blessed lady of Loretto, mother of mercy! hear me, and pray for her!" Heavy sobs succeeded.
The touching tones of his voice, and the passionate fervour of his devout appeals, deeply moved me. So intense was his sorrow, that it almost warranted the suspicion of a nearer relationship to Dianora than his vows and character as a Catholic churchman permitted; but no such ungenerous thought occurred to me then: my heart felt only the deepest and most sincere compassion for the bereaved old man. He was so besotted with woe, that I saw it was next to impossible to obtain from him the least intelligence or advice; and, withdrawing softly, I left the villa immediately.
When descending the hill towards the spot where we had found the relics of our missing comrade, we met a peasant, who, with a long ox-goad, was urging a pair of lazy buffaloes towards Scylla. I desired my soldiers to bring him before me, in the desperate hope of obtaining some information concerning poor Lascelles; and, strange to say, we could not have had a luckier rencontre, or better intelligencer.
"Hollo, Signor Campagnuolo!" said I to the cattle driver; "from whence have you come this morning—Fiumara, eh?"
"From the monastery of Battaglia, down the mountains yonder," he answered somewhat reservedly; and, endeavouring to pass, he added, "a holy day to you, Signor."
"Any movement taking place among the French lately?—are any of their patrols out?"
"I have not heard, excellency; but a fugitive, chased by a party of them, took refuge at the monastery this morning, and is said to have confessed to the Padre Abate a horrible crime."
"Ha! and is he now in the sanctuary?" I demanded, eagerly.
"Prostrate on the steps of the altar: his penitence is great. Madonna intercede for him!"
"Thanks," said I, permitting the uneasy rustic to pass on his way. "Advance, soldiers—trail arms—forward, double quick! We have got on the right scent at last, perhaps; and there is not a moment to be lost."