Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 25, 2025
The rare shade of compassion that had softened Fra Paolo's face when he gave his warning, deepened to a glory and his eyes shone with a grace that was like love, as he raised the wretched man and strove to arrest his torrent of words. "God heareth thee, my brother," he said pleadingly; "have pity on thine own soul. Kneel to Him alone in thy great need.
Let now the astrologers, the star-gazers, the monthly prognosticators stand up and save thee from these things that shall come upon thee! The people stopped their pushing and looked aghast to see who spake, but I could have sworn it was Fra Paolo's voice.
It so happened that Paolo took a severe cold one winter's day, and had such threatening symptoms that he asked the baker, when he called, to send the village physician to see him. In the course of his visit the doctor naturally inquired about the health of Paolo's master. "Signor Kirkwood well, molto bene," said Paolo. "Why does he keep out of sight as he does?" asked the doctor.
Her sympathy was with him in both actions; in his silent prayer, in the inner privacy of his working-room, as well as in the inherent love of his art, from which he could not escape even when he was doing something contrary to the whole tenor of his life. Lucia thought how Don Paolo's face would light up when she should tell him of what she had seen.
The breath of jealousy still clouded the serenity of his sky, and he was not without some unfulfilled longings; but no scandal had ever touched him. He was great enough now to be smitten through his friends, and the good Fra Giulio had been the victim taken in his stead; upon Fra Paolo's last homecoming to the convent the loving, fatherly greeting had failed him.
So he said to himself that he must make Paolo's acquaintance, to begin with. In the summer season many kinds of small traffic were always carried on in Arrowhead Village. Among the rest, the sellers of fruits oranges, bananas, and others, according to the seasons did an active business.
Lucia was arranging the pillows under Paolo's head, and Maria Luisa was crying with joy. Marzio sprang to his feet and stared as though he could not believe what he saw. Paolo turned his head and looked kindly at his brother. "Courage, Marzio," he said, "I have been asleep, I believe what has happened to me? Why are you all crying?"
"See," he cried again, calling attention to the iridescent colors, shining green and purple in the sunshine, then sighed disconsolately. "I do wish he belonged to me." And he stroked lovingly the feathered head. "I never have had a pet of any kind." "Is it, then, a matter of such grief?" questioned the old caretaker, surprised at the lad's desire. "Do you understand?" Paolo's answer came slowly.
"And if you take her away," retorted the other, "where will you get bread?" "Where I get it now. I could live somewhere else and come here to work; it seems simple enough." "It seems simple, but it is not," replied Marzio. "Perhaps you could try and get Paolo's commissions away from me, and then set up a studio for yourself; but I doubt whether you could succeed.
He laughed at that, and said that the first bust he would hew in marble should be that of his patient, faithful mother; and with that he gave her a little hug, and danced out of the room, leaving her to look after him with glistening eyes, brimming over with happiness. But Paolo's dream was to have another awakening. The years passed and brought their changes.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking