The Italian | Page 2

the left of the aisle, below a painted window. Have you
discovered it ? The colours of the glass throw, instead of light, a shade
over that part of the church, which, perhaps, prevents your
distinguishing what I mean!'
The Englishman looked whither his friend pointed, and observed a
confessional of oak, or some very dark wood, adjoining the wall, and
remarked also, that it was the same, which the assassin had just entered.
It consisted of three compartments, covered with a black canopy. In the
central division was the chair of the confessor, elevated by several steps
above the pavement of the church; and on either hand was a small
closet, or box, with steps leading up to a grated partition, at which the
penitent might kneel, and, concealed from observation, pour into the
ear of the confessor, the consciousness of crimes that lay heavy on his
heart.
'You observe it?' said the Italian.
'I do,' replied the Englishman; 'it is the same, which the assassin has
passed into; and I think it one of the most gloomy spots I ever beheld;
the view of it is enough to strike a criminal with despair!'
'We, in Italy, are not so apt to despair,' replied the Italian smilingly.
'Well, but what of this confessional?' enquired the Englishman. 'The
assassin entered it!'

'He has no relation, with what I am about to mention,' said the Italian;
'but I wish you to mark the place, because some very extraordinary
circumstances belong to it.'
'What are they?' said the Englishman.
'It is now several years since the confession, which is connected with
them, was made at that very confessional,' added the Italian; 'the view
of it, and the sight of this assassin, with your surprize at the liberty
which is allowed him, led me to a recollection of the story. When you
return to the hotel, I will communicate it to you, if you have no
pleasanter way of engaging your time.
'I have a curiosity to hear it,' replied the Englishman, 'cannot you relate
it now ?'
'It is much too long to be related now; that would occupy a week; I
have it in writing, and will send you the volume. A young student of
Padua, who happened to be at Naples soon after this horrible
confession became public --'
'Pardon me,' interrupted the Englishman, 'that is surely very
extraordinary ? I thought confessions were always held sacred by the
priest, to whom they were made.'
'Your observation is reasonable,' rejoined the Italian; 'the faith of the
priest is never broken, except by an especial command from an higher
power; and the circumstances must even then be very extraordinary to
justify such a departure from the law. But, when you read the narrative,
your surprise on this head will cease. I was going to tell you, that it was
written by a student of Padua, who, happening to be here soon after the
affair became public, was so much struck with the facts, that, partly as
an exercise, and partly in return for some trifling services I had
rendered him, he committed them to paper for me. You will perceive
from the work, that this student was very young, as to the arts of
composition, but the facts are what you require, and from these he has
not deviated. But come, let us leave the church.'

'After I have taken another view of this solemn edifice,' replied the
Englishman, 'and particularly of the confessional you have pointed to
my notice!'
While the Englishman glanced his eye over the high roofs, and along
the solemn perspectives of the Santa del Pianto, he perceived the figure
of the assassin stealing from the confessional across the choir, and,
shocked on again beholding him, he turned his eyes, and hastily quitted
the church.
The friends then separated, and the Englishman, soon after returning to
his hotel, received the volume. He read as follows:

Chapter 1
"What is this secret sin; this untold tale,
That art cannot extract, nor penance cleanse?"
Mysterious Mother.
It was in the church of San Lorenzo at Naples, in the year 1758, that
Vincentio di Vivaldi first saw Ellena Rosalba. The sweetness and fine
expression of her voice attracted his attention to her figure, which had a
distinguished air of delicacy and grace; but her face was concealed in
her veil. So much indeed was he fascinated by the voice, that a most
painful curiosity was excited as to her countenance, which he fancied
must express all the sensibility of character that the modulation of her
tones indicated. He listened to their exquisite expression with a rapt
attention, and hardly withdrew his eyes from her person till the matin
service had concluded; when he observed her leave the church with an
aged