Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 8, no. 45, July, 1861 | Page 5

set."
"Oh, Jocunda, it's dreadful to think of, that they should have been in
hell all this time."
"And no nearer the end than when they began," said Jocunda.
Agnes gave a shivering sigh, and, looking up into the golden sky that
was pouring such floods of splendor through the orange-trees and
jasmines, thought, How could it be that the world could possibly be
going on so sweet and fair over such an abyss?
"Oh, Jocunda!" she said, "it does seem too dreadful to believe! How
could they help being heathen,--being born so,--and never hearing of
the true Church?"
"Sure enough," said Jocunda, spinning away energetically, "but that's
no business of mine; my business is to save my soul, and that's what I
came here for. The dear saints know I found it dull enough at first, for
I'd been used to jaunting round with my old man and the boys; but what
with marketing and preserving, and one thing and another, I get on
better now, praise to Saint Agnes!"

The large, dark eyes of Agnes were fixed abstractedly on the old
woman as she spoke, slowly dilating, with a sad, mysterious expression,
which sometimes came over them.
"Ah! how can the saints themselves be happy?" she said. "One might
be willing to wear sackcloth and sleep on the ground, one might suffer
ever so many years and years, if only one might save some of them."
"Well, it does seem hard," said Jocunda; "but what's the use of thinking
of it? Old Father Anselmo told us in one of his sermons that the Lord
wills that his saints should come to rejoice in the punishment of all
heathens and heretics; and he told us about a great saint once, who took
it into his head to be distressed because one of the old heathen whose
books he was fond of reading had gone to hell,--and he fasted and
prayed, and wouldn't take no for an answer, till he got him out."
"He did, then?" said Agnes, clasping her hands in an ecstasy.
"Yes; but the good Lord told him never to try it again,--and He struck
him dumb, as a kind of hint, you know. Why, Father Anselmo said that
even getting souls out of purgatory was no easy matter. He told us of
one holy nun who spent nine years fasting and praying for the soul of
her prince, who was killed in a duel, and then she saw in a vision that
he was only raised the least little bit out of the fire,--and she offered up
her life as a sacrifice to the Lord to deliver him, but, after all, when she
died he wasn't quite delivered. Such things made me think that a poor
old sinner like me would never get out at all, if I didn't set about it in
earnest,--though it a'n't all nuns that save their souls either. I remember
in Pisa I saw a great picture of the Judgment-Day in the Campo Santo,
and there were lots of abbesses, and nuns, and monks, and bishops too,
that the devils were clearing off into the fire."
"Oh, Jocunda, how dreadful that fire must be!"
"Yes," said Jocunda. "Father Anselmo said hell-fire wasn't like any
kind of fire we have here,--made to warm us and cook our food,--but a
kind made especially to torment body and soul, and not made for
anything else. I remember a story he told us about that. You see, there
was an old duchess that lived in a grand old castle,--and a proud,
wicked old thing enough; and her son brought home a handsome young
bride to the castle, and the old duchess was jealous of her,--'cause, you
see, she hated to give up her place in the house, and the old
family-jewels, and all the splendid things,--and so one time, when the

poor young thing was all dressed up in a set of the old family-lace,
what does the old hag do but set fire to it!"
"How horrible!" said Agnes.
"Yes; and when the young thing ran screaming in her agony, the old
hag stopped her and tore off a pearl rosary that she was wearing, for
fear it should be spoiled by the fire."
"Holy Mother! can such things be possible?" said Agnes.
"Well, you see, she got her pay for it. That rosary was of famous old
pearls that had been in the family a hundred years; but from that
moment the good Lord struck it with a curse, and filled it white-hot
with hell-fire, so that, if anybody held it a few minutes in their hand, it
would burn to the bone. The old sinner made believe that she was in
great affliction for the death of her daughter-in-law, and that it was all