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Show IHadonna Penserosa. ' KATHLEEN EILEEN BARRY IN ROSARY MAGAZINE. , I. Saint Patrick's cathedral was brilliantly bril-liantly illuminated. It was crowded to the doors. Many religious denominations denomina-tions were represented in that throng; even the atheistic element was not lacking. Saint and sinner, believer and skeptic, had come to listen to the Dominican missionary whose fame as a preacher had spread over New York. He stood in the pulpit, garbed in the . black and white robes of his Order. The circlet of lights that twinkled above his head made mm look like an aureoled saint. He preached with all the fervor and fiery earnestness of his Italian nature. His sonorous voice was the only sound that disturbed the stillness in that flower-scented, incense-laden atmosphere. atmos-phere. There was not even the faintest faint-est rustle amongst the listeners: their eyes were riveted upon him, their ears strained to catch his every intonation. Outside all was bustle and excitement. excite-ment. A continuous stream of carriages car-riages passed up and down Fifth avenue. ave-nue. Pedestrians jostled each other on the sidewalks ami at the crossings. A brougham, drawn by a magnificent pair of bays, whirled by. One of the horses slipped and fell heavily on the asphalt. A policeman left his post and hurriedly wrenched open the door of the vehicle. . Its occupant, a 'beautiful 'beau-tiful woman, sprang out. The night was cold and despite the fact that a fur cloak covered her evening gown, she shivered in the keen air. The jrreat white cathedral loomed up before her. Moved by an irresistible irre-sistible impulse, she mounted the steps and entered. When she , sawi the preacher, her dark eves dilated, and a strange gleam crept into them. Father Silvio Petroni spoke on, unconscious un-conscious of her intent gaze. His superb su-perb oratory thrilled the po; le. He deemed to them an inspired prophet, rather than a mere priest. When he ceased, they knelt, as though actuated by common impulse, to receive his benediciion. A moment later the choir began the "Adeste Fidelis.". The woman who had just entered rose and joined in the hymn. Her voice rang high above the i others. It was. clear as a bell, sweet as the lark's greeting to dawnor the nightingale's serenade to evening. The congregation listened breathlessly breath-lessly to that liquid melody. At the sound of it the Dominican i started and came to a standstill within with-in the door of the vestry. He paused there, motionelss as a statue, his head slightly bowed. A score of years had passed since last he heard that glorious voice, but he recognized it at once. It brought back a flood of memories pertaining to the days of, his youth. He beheld is in a dream the vine-clad hills of his Milanese home, . and a procession of youths and majdens walking towards a wayside shrine. Amongst them was his brother's betrothed, singing this very hymn. That beloved, brother had given his heart into the girl's keeping, and had believed that nothing could ever come between them.. But a great impresario tempted her away, and when Rafael Petroni heard that she had blossomed into the famous diva known as Livia Capello, he realized that she was lost to hirr. forever. When the hymn ended the singer went swiftly clown the aisle and entered en-tered the vestry. She yearned to hear . something of the lover of her youth. She had never forgotten him. It was true that her ambition was stronger than her love, yet in the midst of all her triumphs, follies and caprices, she thought of him often and with tenderness. ten-derness. She had not seen or heard of him since the day they parted, for their pathways in life lay far apart, but now her heart was hungry for tidings tid-ings of him. She threw back her head and looked at the priest. She had loosened her furs, and her snowy throat gleamed from out the sable background. Her glowing southern beauty was of the type that Giorgio Barbareli liked best to paint, but the Dominican searched in vain for a trace of the innocence that had once distinguished her. "What of Rafael? Is it well with him?" she asked tremulously. Father Petroni gazed at her sternly, accusingly, then answered: "If is well with him he is dead." "Dead! When why of what did he die?" she stammered. "A broken heart, it is said." She staggered back, white to the lips, her hands upraised as though to ward off a blow. ' The priest's expression changed into one of divine compassion, and, as she turned away, he murmured pityingly: "Peace be with you." She hurried into the church and prostrated, pros-trated, herself before the altar. .Old memories thronged in upon her memories mem-ories of her joyous, innocent childhood, and of the man whose life she had wrecked. She was shaken with remorse at the though of all her misspent years, and of the loved dead to whom she might have brought so much of happiness. happi-ness. And even her broken, whispered words of contrition, and the scalding tears that flowed so freely, gave no relief re-lief to her overcharged heart. II. The Metropolitan opera house was In a tumult. The Sunday night audience that had come to attend the grand concert, refused to be placated by the management's apologies for the Italian diva. They clamored for their idol, and shouts of "Capello! Capello!" rent the air. At last she came. The house fairly rose at her. but she did not acknowl- i edge their greeting. Her face was cold, I i unsmiling, rigid as a death-mask. I She glided to the footlights, and the i orchestra leader raised his baton. She stayed him with an imperious gesture, and the next instant the strains of the "Adeste Fidelis" rang through the house. As the silvery notes soared aloft, men trembled and women sobbed. The unearthly sweetness of her voice made their nearts vibrate. When she left the stage, none moved 1 or saoke. The vast audience, seemed spellbound. In the winjs the director accosted her, and wrathfully demanded why she had not sung the aria from "Faust," in accordance with the programme. She regarded him with the blank, unseeing gaze of the sleepwalker, or of one whose faculties had suddenly become be-come paralyzed; then she whispered: "Peace be with you!" I sing no more!" and passed ov.t into the night. |