n, who had followed us to the
church.

Thus we waited for close upon two hours that were as an eternity.

And kneeling there, the eyes of my soul conned closely the scroll of my
young life as it had been unfolded hitherto. I reviewed its beginnings
in the greyness of Mondolfo, under the tutelage of my poor, dolorous
mother who had striven so fiercely to set my feet upon the ways of
sanctity. But my ways had been errant ways, even though, myself, I had
sought to walk as she directed. I had strayed and blundered, veered and
veered again, a very mockery of what she strove to make me--a strolling
saint, indeed, as Cosimo had dubbed me, a wandering mummer when I sought
after holiness.

But my strolling, my errantry ended here at last at the steps of this
altar, as I knew.

Deeply had I sinned. But deeply and strenuously had I expiated, and the
heaviest burden of my expiation had been that endured in the past year
at Pagliano beside my gentle Bianca who was another's wedded wife. That
cross of penitence--so singularly condign to my sin--I had borne with
fortitude, heartened by the confidence that thus should I win to pardon
and that the burden would be mercifully lifted when the expiation was
complete. In the lifting of that burden from me I should see a sign that
pardon was mine at last, that at last I was accounted worthy of this
pure maid through whom I should have won to grace, through whom I had
come to learn that Love--God's greatest gift--is the great sanctifier of
man.

That the stroke of that ardently awaited hour was even now impending I
did not for a moment doubt.

Behind us, the door opened and steps clanked upon the granite floor.

Fra Gervasio rose very tall and gaunt, his gaze anxious.

He looked, and the anxiety passed. Thankfulness overspread his face. He
smiled serenely, tears in his deep-set eyes. Seeing this, I, too, dared
to look at last.

Up the aisle came my father very erect and solemn, and behind him
followed Falcone with eyes a-twinkle in his weather-beaten face.

"Let the will of Heaven be done," said my father. And Gervasio came down
to pronounce the nuptial blessing over us.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Strolling Saint, by Raphael Sabatini

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