>>> YOU ARE VIEWING A 200 LINE SAMPLE OF EBOOK# E04553 <<< TITLE: THE STROLLING SAINT AUTHOR: RAFAEL SABATINI EBOOK: E04553 (O'Briens Book Cellar) The Strolling Saint Being the Confessions of the High & Mighty Agostino D'Anguissola Tyrant of Mondolfo & Lord of Carmina, in the State of Piacenza By Rafael Sabatini CONTENTS BOOK ONE THE OBLATE CHAPTER I. NOMEN ET OMEN II. GINO FALCONE III. THE PIETISTIC THRALL IV. LUISINA V. REBELLION VI. FRA GERVASIO BOOK TWO GIULIANA I. THE HOUSE OF ASTORRE FIFANTI II. HUMANITIES III. PREUX-CHEVALIER IV. MY LORD GAMBARA CLEARS THE GROUND V. PABULUM ACHERONTIS VI. THE IRON GIRDLE BOOK THREE THE WILDERNESS I. THE HOME-COMING II. THE CAPTAIN OF JUSTICE III. GAMBARA'S INTERESTS IV. THE ANCHORITE OF MONTE ORSARO V. THE RENUNCIATION VI. HYPNEROTOMACHIA VII. INTRUDERS VIII. THE VISION IX. THE ICONOCLAST BOOK FOUR THE WORLD I. PAGLIANO II. THE GOVERNOR OF MILAN III. PIER LUIGI FARNESE IV. MADONNA BIANCA V. THE WARNING VI. THE TALONS OF THE HOLY OFFICE VII. THE PAPAL BULL VIII. THE THIRD DEGREE IX. THE RETURN X. THE NUPTIALS OF BIANCA XI. THE PENANCE XII. BLOOD XIII. THE OVERTHROW XIV. THE CITATION XV. THE WILL OF HEAVEN BOOK ONE THE OBLATE CHAPTER I NOMEN ET OMEN In seeking other than in myself--as men will--the causes of my tribulations, I have often inclined to lay the blame of much of the ill that befell me, and the ill that in my sinful life I did to others, upon those who held my mother at the baptismal font and concerted that she should bear the name of Monica. There are in life many things which, in themselves, seeming to the vulgar and the heedless to be trivial and without consequence, may yet be causes pregnant of terrible effects, mainsprings of Destiny itself. Amid such portentous trifles I would number the names so heedlessly bestowed upon us. It surprises me that in none of the philosophic writings of the learned scholars of antiquity can I find that this matter of names has been touched upon, much less given the importance of which I account it to be deserving. Possibly it is because no one of them ever suffered, as I have suffered, from the consequences of a name. Had it but been so, they might in their weighty and impressive manner have set down a lesson on the subject, and so relieved me--who am all-conscious of my shortcomings in this direction- from the necessity of repairing that omission out of my own experience. Let it then, even at this late hour, be considered what a subtle influence for good or ill, what a very mould of character may lie within a name. To the dull clod of earth, perhaps, or, again, to the truly strong-minded nature that is beyond such influences, it can matter little that he be called Alexander or Achilles; and once there was a man named Judas who fell so far short of the noble associations of that name that he has changed for all time the very sound and meaning of it. But to him who has been endowed with imagination--that greatest boon and greatest affliction of mankind--or whose nature is such as to crave for models, the name he bears may become a thing portentous by the images it conjures up of some mighty dead who bore it erstwhile and whose life inspires to emulation. Whatever may be accounted the general value of this premiss, at least as it concerns my mother I shall hope to prove it apt. They named her Monica. Why the name was chosen I have never learnt; but I do not conceive that there was any reason for the choice other than the taste of her parents in the matter of sounds. It is a pleasing enough name, euphoniously considered, and beyond that--as is so commonly the case--no considerations were taken into account. To her, however, at once imaginative and of a feeble and dependent spirit, the name was fateful. St. Monica was made the special object of her devotions in girlhood, and remained so later when she became a wife. The Life of St. Monica was the most soiled and fingered portion of an old manuscript collection of the life histories of a score or so of saints that was one of her dearest possessions. To render herself worthy of the name she bore, to model her life upon that of the sainted woman who had sorrowed and rejoiced so much in her famous offspring, became the obsession of my mother's soul. And but that St. Monica had wed and borne a son, I do not believe that my mother would ever have adventured herself within the bonds of wedlock. How often in the stressful, stormy hours of my most unhappy youth did I not wish that she had preferred the virginal life of the cloister, and thus spared me the heavy burden of an existence which her unholy and mistaken saintliness went so near to laying waste! I like to think that in the days when my father wooed her, she forgot for a spell in the strong arms of that fierce ghibelline the pattern upon which it had become her wont to weave her life; so that in all that drab, sackcloth tissue there was embroidered at least one warm and brilliant little wedge of colour; so that in all that desert waste, in all that parched aridity of her existence, there was at least one little patch of garden-land, fragrant, fruitful, and cool. I like to think it, for at best such a spell must have been brief indeed; and for that I pity her--I, who once blamed her so very bitterly. Before ever I was born it must have ceased; whilst still she bore me she put from her lips the cup that holds the warm and potent wine of life, and turned her once more to her fasting, her contemplations, and her prayers. That was in the year in which the battle of Pavia was fought and won by the Emperor. My father, who had raised a condotta to lend a hand in the expulsion of the French, was left for dead upon that glorious field. Afterwards he was found still living, but upon the very edge and border of Eternity; and when the news of it was borne to my mother I have little doubt but that she imagined it to be a visitation--a punishment upon her for having strayed for that brief season of her adolescence from the narrow flinty path that she had erst claimed to tread in the footsteps of Holy Monica. How much the love of my father may still have swayed her I do not know. But to me it seems that in what next she did there was more of duty, more of penitence, more of reparation for the sin of having been a woman as God made her, than of love. Indeed, I almost know this to be so. In delicate health as she was, she bade her people prepare a litter for her, and so she <<< END OF SAMPLE... (THE FULL EBOOK HAS 658677 TOTAL CHARACTERS) >>>