THE DIE OF FATE.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXVI, Issue 11654, 8 June 1912, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE DIE OF FATE.

(By Howard I'yle.)

In the old, old <l:iys of long ago there lived near to Florence and a little ofl from San Domenico a well-to-do farmer by name Niccolo Hamse.lli. He dwelt in a cheerful, pleasant farm-house, but. in those days it was like a fallen'pear, looking rich, and beautiful, perhaps, but ■decayed at the heart when you bit into it", for grief and sorrow were- within this fair exterior. " The reason was this: that the son of the house, a young man of twenty, lay dying there of the fever.

Niccolo Ramselli, tlio father, sat 011 a green-painted bench close beside the door. He sat with his o I bows on his knees, his eyes fixed upon the ground -between his" feet, sunk in melancholy thought, without a sparkle of hope to illuminate the darkness of his soul. The doet-or was inside the house at that moment visiting the sick man, and Niccolo was waiting for him to come out again. At last tho door opened and the doctor came forth. He shook his head slowly from sido to side as he came forth from the, doorway, and moved his Ijps as though he 1 was communing with himself. Niccolo looked up from where lie sat. "Well,'.' he said, "what have you to snv to-day? How is Sebastiano? Ts the lx>y better?" ~ The physician shook his head. "2So. he said, "I citanot say he is better." "Is he worSev then r" sa'.d Niccolo. The physician, still shook h:s head. "Ko," said lie. "I cannot say that, f/itlicr. He is thin and dried like to a

skeleton, lying upon the bed. His is liiglx and his breath comes qu>ckly. I shall be surprised if he lives until tins

time io-morrow." Niccolo's head sank down st.nl lov, or between his shoulders, and again ho f;tared at the ground. "Well,", he said, "then the bottom is out of the bucket, and it will carry no more water from the well." The physician stopped shakng his Lend and began nodding it slowly up and down. "Hah, well, ' said ho. "<t ia a sad business. He will never sit in front of the, lire to warm, his shins again." . Niccolo did not say anything to this He'was gazing again upon the ground in front of him. He heaved a great sigh. His son was going to die. What would he do then? He was a widower, and his son was almost a man. He hijmelf was old. If God should take Seb&stiano to Himself, ho, Niccolo, would be left like a horse with three legs. He wiped liis eyes upon his shirt sleeve. "This is a. very sad business.' said he, cliolcing as lie spoke, as though bis words were like hard nuts in his throat, "and I had just bought him a suit of clothes and paid a great deal for them, too." He wiped his eyes ■again with his shirt-sleeve, for trouble knocked at his heart as though it were the devil's kettledrum. Then lie got up from where lie sat and stood staring at the earth as though he saw pins there. The, doctor went away, leaving liiin standing there in front of the green bench.. Not 'tliere was at that time a magician living in Florence named Montofaeim. He was the most wise and learned man then living in Italy, or any other countrv upon which God s sun shines on a clear day. He was so good ji mathematician that he could tell ->y once looking at it how many drons there were ill a glassful of wine. He. could talk in three languages, and could discourse: Latin and Greek Resides ay easilv as lie could talk good Floi entine. Italian. He could read the heaven* and the stars as easily as one could read the paternoster in a hooK or piavers, printed; in b'g. clear letters. That evening p neighbor c?me t» see Niccolo. "Why don't von go," ssm. hj". "to Montofacini, in Florence, and tali\ to him about your son?" Niccolo pat upon the green- bench and still looked um:n the ground as though he l were searching for crickets. He needed shoving, and liis cheeks and chin were rough with a two davs bCTi 'l that grew upon them. H<* shook his •head. "'Twould do no good, '-said he, "to see Montofacini. He is a very wise tnjwt, but he could do no gooc, here-Sebastw.no-has got the fever in his vitals. He is died : to a bone. He will die to-n'otrow, for the doctor says so." "But Montofacini will give you pound advice." said the neighbor. "Advice something. Listen'. When a man ,s hungry a very small cake is better than no bread' at- all. Lnst week Giovanni Pfsanti's wife was s:ck of a eclic. Her face was green and was covered alt over with sweat, so that she shone like a blue glaze on a white earthen pot. What did Pisanti do? He went to Florence to see Montofacini. Montofacini gave him some red medicine in a bottle. And now the woman is about, singing like a bird' and 1 as strong as a grasshopper." Nicollo still shook his head 1 stubbornly. "That 'was the colic she had." said he. "Yon may r-ure the colic wth red medicine, but when the fever eats into a strong man's vitals you can't cure that. Sebastia,no will die - to-morrow, for tlie doctor said so." "Well," said the neighbor, "if my son were sick and going to die. I would -go and' see Montc.f-aeini and tell him al! about the case. Maybe lie could' do . something for the young man." So the neighbor talked:. The nest day Niccolo went into Florence and saw Montofacini. Montofacini was a noble, tall man, ■with hair and beard as white as snow. He sat at his table, dressed all iu black from top to toe. Niccolo came berore him. arid Montofacini looked at him as though his eyes could pierce the man i-krough- For they seemed to be like long, sharp needles of pure light—they went in'at the breast and out at the back, as though the glance was thrust through the 'heart. ■ Montofacini bade Niccolo to sit down, and Nicollo did so. , So far-Niccolo -liadi said nothing to him. "Well," said Montofacini, "I am sorry to hear that your son Sebasrtiauo is sick. When a ma,n of yo.ur age who is a widower loves' a son and till© son dies, it is like taking from him a strong staff of support. If lie stumbles he .falls."

'■' l cannot guess how you know about me and' my son." said Niccolo, "but I came to see if you will help my son in liis sickness. To-day he will die unless tou"help him to live. He has been sick." said Niccolo, ' '"this five weeks, andf I could put my thiimb and finger around his thigh-bone this minute. He is tike a skeleton lying there alive upon his bed. 5 ' "Have you not Dr Eaustam? said Montof acini. "He is th® best medico in Florence. He is watching you:- son. arid if he dies it will bo a decree of Providence. Trust to- that decree, for Providence is always merciful." '•And," said Niccolo, 'can you do nbtTiirig to help liim ? Nothing at all." I '/ '/Perhaps 1 can." said Montnfacmi. "Buirl am -afraid: to interfere with the cage of the die made by Providence! You OOJi but turn ovw tlie die.* but the sixT is opposite t'be one. lour misforti}rie inay be" six times as great as it was before'." - , •The tears started 1 down Niccolo s face. There were deep channels in his worn cheeks. o-nd the tears ran down these like diamond.-, into the cracks. "All." hefsaid!, "do not talk in tha.t way! ir Tou- can save my son, do so and' I will take"the risk myself- My life is in him, arid"if his life is taken my life is taken also. Give me a charm to cure liim if

your can."

-Sfontofacini looked at the mm. and - his'Jb'earfc relented 'at the sight of his grey hairs and' his tears. "I will see." said he, "what I can do. If I can cure ham-1 will do so. Come back at noon to-tkvy and I will have a charm for you-" , , ~ ■ "jficcolo came back as the b£ils rail" fog-jwxm., 3fontofacini sat just where her<fcad sat that morning. "I have a chirm "for your son's lire/' said he. "it Toil? .still want it. but think well before youtake it. See !' - ' He he'd up a little crvctn] glob? about the bigness of ■ ! walnut. The sunlight shone upon it aifi'made it glow as though with light: frojn within. "Here." said Montotacirii', "is the sphere of your life's fortune. Cherish it well, for if it breaks, your life will disappear from your body like-smoke, from a faggot. Outside of this, you will observe, is a inist as though you had breathed-'iinon it- A\ipp away this mist with n soft handkerchief so ifchat tho sphere is clear, anjd if the niisfc ; does not return, your misfortune will-pass and your son will live. But dojatfit let this mist gather, or else misfortune will come upon you and will settle about your head in a dark and ; gloomy cloud."

Niccolo took -the sphere carefully between his thumb and linger find looked like wonderfully transparent water. He could see. it clearly, for the <rlol>e was covered with a mist as though the srlass were frosted. . "Will voli take it?" said Montofa-cin-i. ' _ '*Yes„ ?J .said ?sicollo. I ill - '•Then be c;irel'ul of it, for if vt is broken, your'life wil'l leave you in mat moment/' , . , , , ' Niccolo took the crystal jilobe home with him. Ho cleared the .mist from >'t with a soft red handkerchief ot shk. He could see within the globe very clearly now; there was what looked like bright water in it. In a little uhilo the"mist ictuniad, and-it was nearly as cloudv as ever. A gam he cleared it. Bv-and-bve the mist, returned again. X'k-eolo worked over it lor _a. lons, ions time, rubbing it- and rubb:ii'i it. Ine <i\veat ran. from-'his face lit streams, but! still he wiped the mist- from the ' r lobc. After a while it seemed' to him nt remained' clearer than it had been, before. Yes it staved- clear for a lousier and a longer t : n:e. He felt cheerful and 1 encouraged. At- last the mist did not return lor a. lons time, and trie globe.was much brighter than it had. been at nist. A he nib bed it, audi now it was clear. It gleamed, and! shone as though it- were a. living eye, blight and l vitreous iiko water- It seemed, to Niccolo as though he had saved his son s life. He went" into the sick room to sec lum. Yes indeed; he could 1 see there was a change. Tho young man s eyes no Hnn-er roved restlessly hither and thiciier? but were staadv and tranquilHis breath was even and! undistuibeu. looked at his father as though lie knew him. His forehead was no tower <!-rv and burning, but was cool ana

The tT oin*-" came nvto the room. K-ciuca io !:o struck with surprise nt z }:-; Us of Sebastians. Ho came to th> h%a-I- and! hi-, body. Ho spoke to the vnu!" nmn, and he answered! calmU P»t : aPaWv. "This is sti singe, said 'ti'-e d«c>ov as though to himself; 'ld® iniaereiaiid how this is. The 31 .., r vr-y cifferen-t from what I ha\c C O,' ' in, bol'cre. He has not been thus Tm■ five Uks. He vrill ~ct well if nothiim n«w happens to -lvim. Niccolo hoard his words. His lie«rt lenncd within, him. His legs grew suddsn'lv weak beneath lam. He sat down upon a chiiK - that av;is -lieai. He- di-d not say anvfhins to the doctor, but lie knew that he had savoa lus sou s lire bv rubbing clear that sphere ol crystal. He wept into his handkerchief. This v.*as how Niccolo Rnmselli sayec his sen's life. Thereafter lie watched him like a hawk, and nursed him like fresh bread. For a long time he remembered only that -liis son had been close to death, that the scythe had missed him, and it was he who had warded off the stroke of the conqueror So Sebastino grew slowly back to health again. His skeleton filled up with food, wholesome fat. He sat 111 a. chair outside of the house and warmed himself in the bright sunshine. But as he grew better his fatha.r slo\wy forgot- to be always tender toward linnHe was sometimes short in his speech and contradicted him very sharply. Then he would be sorry for his irritation and speak words of repentance, but again ho ' would be sharp 111 his disC ° | u short. Reliastiano was rapidly

growing well again. Niccolo llamselli made up Ins mind that it behooved him to marry. He said: "I man should not carry all his eggs in one basket, as I do mine. Sebastiano came near dying. If he had! died, how would it then have been an old man alone in the world. Yes, will many; I am but forty-eight years old and have plenty of good days btfore me yet. Let me marry a young, wife, and I may, perhaps, have children bv her. Even if I do. not, she wi l still lie young; and when I am old, u she loves- me. as I believe she in, shall have a hand to support ine n my feet grow uncertain and in soma down tho path ot lire. So havi'jf urule up his mind, ho bogan 'to look about for a. fit girl to marry.

E.ttore Savisini lived a' near neighborto Niccolo Eamselli, and the two had known each other and had been mends for twenty-two years, ever since Ettoi e was married. For .Ettore had fi wi e, but no children. In tins lie wn* .shut awav from the rest of the world, and: while other husbands and wives had noise and tumult m the house ulicii the children were home, their house was silent. No one. teased the dog; no one robbed the cherry-tree; no one chased: the chickens. . .And vet- the two were a loving couple, as husbands and wives go in this world. He did not beat her at all; lie did not swear at- her unless the need, arose ; he not even scold her unless there was just occasion fcr it. Yet they had no olrMr?n. # . . .. T At last Ettore said to his wife, whose Tin mo was AFariii: "Woll. little npplo. we have no children, and are not likely after all these years tr> liavo anv. Listen - your sister Serafina had a little srir! that she left behind her when slie died -Now her father is also dead, for iieVas drowned in the snoiice-fislung. Tho child was left alone in the. wofid, and is living now with her grandmother. Let- us Fend for the little to come here to maka our home blight for us." Maria Savisini began to weeo. Sh9 had always wanted children of her own, but Heaven had not been kind to her. Now she was asked to bring a. cuckoo bird to fill the nest that her imagination had so often peopled with noisy, curly-headed brats of her own. Now she would have no children. Her house would be as lonely as a nest from which tho bird of hope had-flown, arid Elisnbetta, Eambolli would come to settle there. Well, that was right. If Heaven refused one children of one's own, one should do what one could elsewhere.

So the upshot- of it was that Ettors. hitched his little arav donkey to the gay curt in which he carried pumpkins to town, arid drove away to Fovezzano, where Elisabettn- lived with her grandmother; and that same day heretuniEcl home, bringing the girl with him. She was only fourteen, years old when she came. She made 110 noise or disturbance in. tlia lion.se. She seemed to be snrl and scrimi*. She entered very quietlv and without tears into th? now household, and made the fires and boiled the water and. cooked the macaroni. and was as though she had: always belonged there. She had no home to besorrv for and no people to grieve after.

So four years had passed, and how Elisabeth was thf prettiest girl that camo to the store at San Domenico. When she came there of a morning, with her short petticoats, her bare feet, and a red-and-yellow handkerchief wrapped around her head, every young man Who met her turned him to look after hf.r, and even the great lord who sat like a fat poodle in liis gilded chariot would say to his wife; "There, that is the prettiest- girl I have seen for a great many days!" Niccolo R-amseili said: ""Yonder is the girl I want for my wife. She is voung. beautiful, a good housekeeper, "and on 1 v eighteen years old. If I can win her I will win a. treasure, for -she is as pretty as a painted picture of the. Virgin.'-' , So that evening die went- to Ettore. s house after supper, and then the two sat side by side for a long time, watching the .gold and crimson light fade out ofutile sky over above the opposite;hill, the stars shine out. and the bats flicker in angular flight against the briglit-

Then Niccolo said: "Ettore, your niece is a beautiful girl. She is gentle and mild, a, good housekeeper, and as patient as ever was the maid Griselda. Sli? i- now eighteen years old. Had you thought of marrying her to any one?" - _

"No."' said Ettore, "I had not. She is u-efi'l t-i us. We love her, and to whom should I marry her? She is portionless and will bnve no prospects in time to come. Who would climb so tli'ck a t 0 pluck a berry on the oib"r sid"?"

'I would do that." sn'd Niceolo. "T ivoii'-l 'in t'lnt. f T "ii if J tore mv-shirt in it. Listen. Ettore : I have, im wif-\ fnr Grid her eighteen ypa-rs ago. I a son who is now n°nrly n in"n nii 1 n*bn ill n l.ittl® Trbile will be. +hipkinr r of liobinf out for h'l«= own life. T n-ill tfikp the Ti'-l if von will give her ra».' and will be glad to have her. Give her to-me."

; "Do you mean thus?" said Ettorc. "I moan it," said Niccolo, "and a, thousand, times more. She is very beautiful, and my heart goes out t-o her. I want her for my wife." Ettore rubbed his hand l over his chin and' thought!'of What Nio»llo bad said. At last he spoke. "I will think,' lie .said, "of what you say, and; will lot you know what I have thought to-morrow." So the. next day Niccolo came agam t-o Ettere's house dr-esed in his very best. His jacket was rich. It had n double row of brass buttons down the front, and they shone in the daylight like discs of pure, bright gold 1 . His shirt was white, and his breeches were green. He had 1 a knit crimson sash about his waist with.-the bow behind, and his- shinti was fine and as white as milk. He looked the very picture of a. prosperous coutadino.' "W hat answer bare I?" said! he. . "What answer?" said: Ettorc. ""Well, d.id you eve;- hear tho answer the moon gave the ? The moon s'jioiie, and the dog said l : 'Yah. yah! jYou are fine! You iir& fine!' But tile moon listened to iiim and said nothing." . • "And does she say nothing. - '- said Niccolo. "That is what she says." said Eutore. "She docs not say yes, .and she does

not sav 110. She asks me "whether are too bashful to ask her yourseh. Then sh;> laughs at the thought. She says you are too old to speak of liiairiage'to a. young girl; but if you speak, whv not- lift up your voice and. eaJ! it out so that she can hear what to say." "So I will call it out," said: Niccolo; "I v.-ill call it out now, where is she:-" "She is not hero," said Ettore; "I will call iiti net here," sa.kl Ettore; "she went up the road' awhile ago to Pia Grinehini's." "Then I will go back ho'in.e," saia Nicollo. "and come again to-morrow. ' Niccolo talked a great deal that evening to his boy Sebastiano about E'is-a-betta. At iirs't Sebastiano listened, but by-and-bye he got up from where lie sat and began to walk up and dbwn in .the dusk. Niccolo talked on and. on about her, for tho more ho talked the more he loved her. And still • Sebastiano walked up and down in. the darkness. Suddenly he said, as though lie were barking, "You are too old for the girl, or she. is too young for you." . Niccolo stopped suddenly in. his speech, "What say you. - '" said he. "Too old, sav you ? I am not too old; I will not be fifty for two years. I ant older than she is, but, God wot, I am not too old. A mail may lack a tooth and yet e'nt a peach, if it is ripe." ' 'l* am a- better match ';or her than you, 71 said Sebastiniio. "X am nottiiiee years older than she. Better that than twentv-three." Niccolo was silent for a moment or two. Then he laughed aloud-'. "Yes, said he. and laughed again. Well, I villi talk reason with you-' The girl is poor, and I have plenty for her and ioi myself. AYhat would you ha\e to keep

her on ?" . "Let me take this place, said feebastiano, "'and' I will farm it. io-a shall be the father of the fanny and ntirse the children, 'and I will c;u fcr yon for the longest day yon lave. The red, mounted to Nicollo s face hididen in the da.rkness. "No. said he in a loud voice, "ray money is mine and I will keep it. I will not give u» mv farm or rocfc my gran-d'son's cra-dle. '"Very well." said Sebastiano; "u not me, then let someone speak who is more near to the girl's age. She is ji <r o bd girl/'aiul as beautiful as she s gooul A.nvone would take her. ana work for her without a soldo of dower. "Go." said! Niceolo, "auid see that the eow is in the byre." He old notlike Sebastiano's talk, especially as his heart told him that there was more - truth in. what lie said than could be packs;-d into a hazel-nut. ) The next day Niccolo went to JLttoro s house, and this-time be saw Elisibetta. He- took her hand' and, heJdi it in his own. He did not let it go immed.iacclv and' the sparks of pure, love shot up liis-» arm and through his heart like twenty bright and sharp arrows of Cupid'. '"Tell inc.." he said, "have you an answer for me? Will you marry

me?" . "What answer shall I give you : said she. "1 am too young to think ol man-ving." ~ "No!" said Niccolo, you are the ripe age to think of it. \oiir people are dead and yon have no dower. Marry me and' I will dower you." She turned her face- away.. Jiy-a'"- 1 - bve she turned l it to lum again. There we-'-e tenii-s in her he.autiful shilling eyes. "I like you," sair she, "but not as you wcuid hove, me like you. Ao heart has flown elsewhere like a had, and now i-ti is in a- golden cage and someone holds at." Nicoclo was silent, and 1 then he said, "Has this other one- told you that lie loves you ?" , "No," said Elisabetta,-"he has not. Audi now the tears roiled down her cheeks like bright jewels. "Then listen," said Niccolo: "1 wnl iioit) ash you -now who this one is, but I will give him time to ask you. I will give him until this day next montn. Then, if he has not- asked you, I shall ask vcu again to give yourself to me.'' ElL~.a.betta. wiped her eyes. "Vcu are good," said she, "and you shall not suffer because of me. Give me iou'" weeks from to-day, and then I will

answer you. So Niccolo went away. He was pleased with himself that he had got a promise from -lier of s.omc sort, and vet- he was displeased that he was not not know his real answer for four weeks-

He told Sebastiano how it had gone with him in his courting: Sebastiano did' not wish him joy;. instead he walked away a .little distance. By-and-bye hereturned. "All the same," lie said, "four weeks is a long time. Suppose the one .whom she loves should come and take her; then what would you db?" "Well." said Niccolo, "I have thought of that, and 1 have thought of a way out of the difficulty. \ou are not strong enough .yet to do hard work. 1 will go every evening to see her, and when I am not there you- shall go and be near her .so as to be in the way ol anyone who comes to make love to her." Sebastiano laughed. "Well," he said, "that is a great idea you have thought of, and' I wi;3l be .glad to help you."

So that day he went to Elisabett'i. and every day thereafter that his father was not at Ettore's house he was there to be near Eiisabetta. So the days' flowed by, the one after the other, and the- weeks followed them. And so came the fourth week, when Niccolo was to have his answer. So c; n.e also the day before the day when he was to have it. That evening ho sax l to Sebastia-no: "Soba-st.iaiio, it is not fit tha.t I should' be following the gl'-: to-night, for to-morrow I aim to ask her for my answer. Go you and be near lis-r and; to keep mischief away from her. For this night, if any, her lovgT will come to take her front me. J. do not- know what I should do if I lost lie: !" And Sebastiano laughed 1 and went to Ettore's house. Then, liassed. the night. In the mornninjz Niccolo dressed himself in. his best raid went over to Ettore's house. Ettore and. his wife met him wi.tJi long and troubled faces, but there was no Eiisabetta in sight. "Why do you look so melancholy?" said' Niccolo. "Do you not know?" said Ettors "Did! they not come to your house?" "What do you mea,n?" s-aid Niccolo But a pang went through liis heart like the cut of a sharp knife. Ettore answered as it were the thought in his mind. "Sebastiano and Eiisabetta," said lie, "went out of the house last night for a walk. The walk must have been lung, for they have notcome back yet," "Where did they go?" said Niccolo. and' his voice came dry and, as it were, from his feet. "Go?" said Eetore. •'* "Gcdt knows where they went, but if it was not to a--1 priest shame will surely come of it." So Niccolo went home again. He safc in the kitchen near to the fire. He thought and thought audi thought over what had happened. He could see he had' sent a> wolf to guard-his lamb, and the wolf ha-d run awav with her. And this was the soli whom he had' saved from death not two months ago. He ground his teeth together; yet, lie saw it all; he had; saved a< faggot from the fire and' it had burned' his hand'. That is what came of interfering with Pro-' Had his - -son not- lived, Niccolo would new have had a beautiful young wife. ,

'He thought of his crystal globe. "Why had he not looked at it before ? Itwas the fate of his life. He had felt so sure of his .happiness that it had lain.' in the strong bos 'for weeks and; he had never thought of it. He went to the

strong box mid' opened it. He took out the silk handkerchief and unwrapped it. The boll was in liis* 11 ;uki>. It was covered' all over with a t'liick mist: But, even as he looked, the - mist was (Disappearing, nnd the "■lobe was becoming, as bright- and as lustrous as ver. He sighed so that it- lilted liis heart within him. He had not thought that this would have been so terrible to' him. His son had not known how hard it would be or be would not have robbed him of his treasiire. Hud he forgotten tliat lie oued liis l»e to his father? Again he sighed profoundly. He wrapped lip the globe' ofcrystal and put it back into the sti oii' obox again. ■ ' i. <.+' That night Sebastiano and Eiisabettacame and knelt before him. Thej bogged his forgiveness, They riedV They had gone straight tc| betta's grandmother's house, and tlicie the priest had made them busband and | wife. They had been called thrco timOo, and now they were married. J-nej luia come home again for | Niccolo listened to all they said, he spoke. "You have roboed me, ?aid lie to Sebastiano, ''d: all that I dearest- ill the world.. You have deceived me and robbed me. And now you ask me to smile and forgive you. 1 know neither of you. You were once my son, and I would have given my liic ioi \oill's; and this was the girl ;vhom loved. Now you are nothing to me. >«u have my ewe lamb. She is yours, or the priest lias made you one. Jake ner awav, and never come to me again. Thev arose from their knees. Niccolo s face was fixed and hard as stone, uebastiano looked at him. There- was no forgiveness there. So he wein awaj. Thev hired a little hut not far p j and Sebastiano worked every day m tlie fields. He earned a living tlius, and so they kept body and soul together. Sometimes Sebastiano worked for Ins father, but Niccolo never looked at him 1101 .«• poke to him. Sebastiano said to himself -""Well, sometime the ice -nill and'the water will flow again. • Jjut Niccolo did not forgive them.

"Niccolo was a very different man from what he had been "before. _ln a y? ai " J ;° had grown a great deal older. His hairhad been gray; now .it was -unite. In a, year's time he seemed to have added twenty years to his age. He grew mean, and became more and mine mi~eii.>. Bv and by mouey was all to him. in tnc old times—the times before Lis trouble had come to him—he used to talk o, an evening with his son ; now, when lie -» as through his supper, he would go to ins room .'and lock the. door, count over what lie had, and reckon how much: ho liacl gained in the month that was passed., Every day lie looked at his globe and saw that the surface was without blcmisu of any kind.- Yes, it was clear and brilliant now and as transparent as air.

Everything was prosperous with lum. He lent money at usury and made niucn bv it. It was money, money, money with him. He became ever more and more a stern and unrelenting creditor. The money in his money-chest increased rapidiv, for he spent little or nothing upon himself. He skimped every rind of cheese and every crust ot bread. Ine neoplo about him complained to ( '-'.V, friends that lie" starved them, biu still they staved with him in spite ot starvation, for'he paid them very good wages. And' so he grew rapidly toward being a rich man. , • And Sebastiano was happy, 100. ior though lie was poor', yet he had a beautiful wife who loved him with her whole heart-. So lor a time all v, as joy and sunshine with them. ' But by -md by things began to be' different. The narve«t was over a'nd now work wa-s difficult to find. He had to beg for money. He got help here and he got help there. Elisabetta's grandmother lent them some money, but she was poor and could not do much, and by and by she could do no more. Then Ettore gave them some, but one day he said to Sebastiano: "Lool\ you, Sebastiano! Every man owes more to himself 'and those who belong to him j than to anybody else. Why do you not go to your father' for help? \ou are i not my kin. I can give you no more a'iter this."

Then came the winter, and a baby was born to them. Sebastiano earned no monev, and by and by. in a few days lie had Then lie remembered what Ettore said to him —that he should go to his father for help. So one morning he went to the house where he was born. His father was in front of the house turning over the orrisroot that was drying there. He looked tip when Sebastiano came and frowned at him. The young man needed shaving; iris clothes looked poor and ragged. He was in his bare feet, lor he had no shoes. He looked like the picture ot crving poverty. NicTcolo saw it all and smiled wickedly.. "Hah," he said, "it is you, is it?" " "Father." sa.id Sebastiano, "I coiiic to you for help. Others will not do anymore lor me, but you cannot see nie starve."

"Hah," said Niccolo, "is there no more for you?" Shake the tree 1 Shake the tree!" Sebastiano smiled as though he strained his lijjs to do it. "I shake," said lie, "but nothing falls. There is nothing more for me unless you will help me over this rough place." "Hah," said Niccolo, "are there no more plums? Shake the tree again! Shake it again! Surely they are not all fallen." Then of a sudden he said with anger, 'Why do you not go to work and earn some money'for yourself!'" "1. have tried everywhere," said Spbastiano, "and there is nothing to do." "Then beg!" said Niccolo. "Go beg! You still have a pair of legs and a goccl voice. Use them and go beg." "I do beg," said Sebastiano. "I beg von to forgive me and to -show me mercy. ■ You are still a mail and my father, and T am a man in need." "You lie!" said Niccolo. "I am not \eur father and you are not my son. I have cast- vou oil'. Y on deceived me von whom I trusted as I trusted my own right hand. You robbed me of my wile!" cried lie. "Go' rob someone of his money if you cannot beg!" Sebastiano's face was as pale as dough. The muscles of his unshaven cheeks twitched as with pain. "Do you mean this?" snid he—"that J should rob if I cannot beg?" But Niccolo only said: "Away! Away!" Then he himself turned and went into the house. Sebastiano looked after him with awhite face. Then he, too, turned and went away with his bend raised and his gaze fixed straight befeore him. But Niccolo was in great trouble. Conscience pricked him at the heart as with a. fine, sharp needle. "Why should I not have given him money?" said he. "I have plenty of it." He went to his room to comfort himself with the sight of what- he owned. He. unlocked his chest; yes, there was a. great quantity of money, a .peck of it. maybe. He gathered it up and poured it from his hand. This was all his own —his own. There was great comfort in the thought. Why should he give any of it away? He ceukl not. Then Sebastiano came into his.mind, and the thought of keeping it melted hko a breath. If he had given one handful of this silver money, what would it have mattered to him Sebastiano was starving, and he had driven him away like a mangy dog. "Well," lie said to himself, "lie will be here again, and then, maybe, I will give 'it to him." He banged down the lid of his moneychest and locked it. He would look at his globe of life. He went to the other chest- and unlocked it. He took out the handkerchief and opened it very carefully. The crystal globe lav in the palm of his hand. What was this? It was covered all over with a thick gray mist. It was the mist- of misfortune, and it was thick upon it. His heart went cold at the sight. What new misfortune' was coming to him ? He rubbed it with his handkerchief. The globe was clear and brilliant, but only for a moment. Almost immediately the mist gathered upon it as thick as ever. He rubbed it and rubbed it and rubbed it _ until the sweat ran. But always the mist returned to'the ball. It w.« as though be had breathed upon it. He rubbed it and rubbed it and still the mist rrathcred upon it as he nibbed it off. "Well. I cannot clean it." he said;. "To-mor-row I will rub it clean." He wrapoed j it up and' put it away whence he had brought it. The next day was the Florentine market. He-arose early and went into, the Piazza della Signoria and stood with, the other farmers at that, place. He bad a good crop of corn. He would sell it there and add to his store of money a.f. h~>me. But be could not.keei> the thought of Sebastiano from liis mind. Suddenly he thought of him. Was this his trouble 0 Sebastiano had looked verv poor and miserable the day before when he had come to him. hungry, barefoot, and un-

thrived. Ho liad driven him away as I though be were a beggar. The thought caught his vitals, and lie writhed under it as the devil twisted it where it was driven. Well,, lie would give the boy some money when next he saw him. It he d'd not coriie for it. then 4ie would send it to Juin. He mad« a good bargain lor his corn, but every now and then the' thought of Sebasti'ano' came to hiiu, e\'en the midst of his bargaining and each time he would twist with the remorse of his thoughts, he would sei d monev to him. as soon as lie got home. The clouds of thought were so tuck in his mind that now anil then it was as though tliev took orm an Seliastiano stood before lam in tl e flesh. Even-as he closed Jus b.uga-in with Hieroninio Bislim tor a part ; ot his crop of corn, he saw befo.e mm that thin, bearded lace Uie baiT lee and the poor, starved look ot tlie N °ll 'v-asT"e ve 11 in g when lie was through vrith liis* business at the maiKOL. - junriei-mcH*. was shining thu. and dlfito on the silent oaruh. turned ,into the road that h . louse he- suddenly betnougnt ni in ot nis vloho of live. The mist oi nustortunv rt-as upon it yesterday. He would go ind loolc at it now . f0 Fe left his donkey-cart in tin + „r l - fs; li.rht -ovuius Oixt from under t.ie ?ooi of" his r,Tor, Some one was '/llorG. WllO "W 3'S l it-. +_r« He suddenly walked vorv sfif O. .1,,; floor It was unlatched. He l>usJi >(V'it *lowlv open, silently. A man war, ■here "'He a short cand e near to urn He was bending over .the inoii«■hinivV from one hnad to tho , All oilier thoughts went out ol Ai .-,lnV mind. Some one .was robbing iiifi Some one was taking the voi> liy, !»rtot». «»',t? 2 IS smriS''b»»in'c® 3e feit at his side. I.he- K.iire here - He drew it silently 1 ro,a i L\,-j, Then he sprang forward. 1 nan"wasbent over the chest, Wo limited tjio knife once and again nu !is body-two strokes as quick as a

" V ' ! Tlie. man gave a shriek of- agoin . R fell forward -upon one hand The lilmci c-mo streaming do a w tin •uu! lido the chest of silver money, candle-light was full m piccolo s iacc , his.- own . was." in the shado% . ' "f- it von?" he gasoed. >ou na\Cdone it!" Then ho fell • forward, his head in the chest. ~f ca(r .: '"iYVrlk;' ,0 Sf him 'Tlr- face was that of his son. He iiung himself down upon h® k.ees and clapped his hands over 1. s weir's wounds. He could not stop the blood; it still .llowed beneath his fin-o-o-s "Sebastiano, lie cikU, Sot'know you! I did not mean to hurt you; 1 meant to help you. fepe.-k to itu 1 - Sebastiano Tj.- ' But Sebastiano could not answei. HU "Niccolo sat upon his heels, S a! jj"S at"him. He groaned and groaned. Iho tears were running down his face m •dreams. I"h' thought nothing ot tno moncv that had been' his pndo and iov. 'What was it now." t-kou'dit of his. accursed ball. J hatwas nis 'curse. It had followed lun. with misfortunes _ ever since it had into Ins hands. - He got up from his knees and went to his'strong-chest and opened it e snatched the ball irony wnere it la> .. It was covered with mist-; m the candl', iiyht tiie. mist looked purple I black H c hurled it violently upon tno iioor. \\ ith a flash ot light it burst, ■emituiiig a thin, brown smoke. ' ]t 'suddenly seemed to Niccolo though the strength had gone out of his body. It seemed to lum as tlioug lie eould feel it' passing out'thro'u&L the soles of his feet. He tottered toward" his bed and fell nalt across it, his feet, resting still upon the ' floor. He. moved his hand fccbiy and then lav still. He, too, was dead. lor the ball was broken.