THE CONSCRIPT.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIV, Issue 45, 4 March 1887, Page 5

THE CONSCRIPT.

(From the Spanish of Febnan Caballebo in the New York Freeman's Journal.) (Concluded.) The Conde and his friend remained silent for some instants nnder the emotion felt by them, full of admiration at such a patient proof of the holy love of family and home, and compassionating the bitterne6s of a situation from which the poor conscript escaped with jubilee, even at such a terrible cost. "You have fully proved your assertion, Marquesa," said the Conde at last, " and as it is well known that the Spanish soldier is cheerful and docile, honours the military state, respects his country's right to call her sons under her banner, and yet, in spite of this, holds every sacrifice light to avoid changing his lot — it must be acknowledged that the love of family and home are deeply engraved in his heart. I had already heard of the incident you have just related to me. Benito is a nephew of my bailiff in Villareal, and by chance I happened to be there at the end of the harvest, last autumn, when Benito came home." " And did he return unexpectedly asked the Marquesa, with anxious curiosity. " Were his family taken by surprise ?" 11 1 learned all the particulars of his return from my bailiff's wife who is so fond of hearing her own voice, that when she has exhausted all material and explained every circumstance, she repeats over again what she has already said, as we sometimes do in the Cortes." " Pray tell me these details, Conde. I cannot express to you how much it would interest me to hear them." " Several months had passed since the conscripts left their homeß, but the pain felt by Benito's mother and his betrothed was as keen as on the day of his departure. There is a great difference between those sorrows which bear in their very nature the word impossible, as a barrier to all hope, and those on which a distant hope shines out, even across the fears of other graver sufferings. But this very hope swells and agitates the restless wave of the sea of anguish which overflows from the heart. So it was with the conscript's family, who believed that he had embarked for Havanna. They were all sitting together in anxious depression, on one of the stormy and melancholy nights by which the autumn of last year announced itself. The rain fell heavily ; and the wind, appearing to boast of its invisible force and inconsistant power, gave vent to a melancholy war-cry as it rent the tiles from tha neighbouring houses. No answer was heard to its roaring, except an occasional and distant clap of thunder, as from time to time a flash of lightning traced its way in the dark clouds with streaks of fire, while all the stormy agitation of Nature found a faithful echo in the troubled hearts of the sorrow-stricken family. The poor mother "—" — "Ah!" interrupted the Marquesa; "how well I understand what she felt. Grief never finds a softer bed than in a mother's heart, and there loves to repose." " The poor mother," proceeded the narrator, " prostrated before a crucifix and a statue of Our Lady of Carmel, recited the Trisagium in a low and trembling voice. "' Ay Diot 1 ' she exclaimed, when she had finished the prayeis. 1 My poor son who is now on the sea, on the sea which they say swallows up more ships than the year has days ! Maria Santissima del Carmen ! Thou who hast saved the lives of so many sailors who have sought thy protection. Holy Mother of God, hear the cries of another mother ! Senora I I would give all the years of my life to have my son at my side again, I cannot ask so great a miracle, but I implore that he may be daved from tempest and shipwreck. Save him, Senora I by thy Mother's tears, save him 1 ' " ' Save him ! ' repeated the whole family, in the midst of their tears. " ' Why did he ask to go to America ? ' sighed his cousin Rosb. " Why did he expose himself upon that sea which is no one's friend 1 " ' My son will be the death of me I ' exclaimed the mother ; 1 for what I go through is worse than a thousand deaths !' " ' Yea, it is easy to see that your days will be shortened — not by Benito, but by yourself,' said the father. ' Since the Indies were Indies, have not Spaniards gone backwards and forwards, as I go to and fro to my farm ? But assuredly Benito will be drowned in the passage 1 You have taken it into your head, and what you have once got into your head, not even a barrel of gunpowder would drive out of it,' " ' Be quiet, Martin,' answered his wife ; ' you blame me, and yet you are as wretched as I am. Dios mio ! ' she added, suddenly covering her face with both hands, half-blinded by a flash of lightnine, which was followed by the short and repeated claps of thunder that appear to burst from the clouds when the storm is right over-head. Tne girls began to recite the Santo, Santo, Santo, and Maria, overcome by emotion, let her head fall on a chair, against which she hid her face, crying aloud : "' My son, my son 1 ' At that instant someone shouted at the door, and the children ran to open it. " ' Santa Maria I ' they cried. ' Father, father, a stranger I ' But before their father could answer, a man rushed into the room, looked hastily around, saw Maria, flew towards her and caught her in his arms, crying : " ' Did you not call me, mother 1 and here I am I ' " There are scenes that pencils cannot draw, nor pens describe. Everyone in that house was transported with joy ; in vain the clouds shot forth their lightning and the wind roared its menaces, or the pouring rain inundated the house, the sun of May shone in it. Supplications gave place to thanksgivings. " Miracle I ' exclaimed the mother, beside herself with joy. "'Miracle I' repeated the whole family. It was only when at last Benito drew near to the table on which a lamp was placed, that Maria noticed the loss of her son's eye. 11 ' Benito !' she exclaimed in great agitation. What is thiß 7' '" Only,' answered Benito, merrily, ' that my leave has cost me an eye of my face.'

" ' And it is not dear,' said Rosa, jojfully, with all the exquisite delicacy of true love. " ' Son of my life, have you been in battle ?' asked Maria in a terrified voice. '" Yes, in the hospital, fighting against an enemy of my own, and not of His Majesty's.' '" Ay Dios mio ! Dios mio /' exclaimed the poor mother, crying bitterly, 'My son has lost an eye 1' '"And what does it matter as he has one left?' asked Rosa, laughingly. " ' Ah I how my son is disfigured,' sighed Maria, wringing her hands. " ' Not so, senora,' answered Rosa, with the same joyfal air. 'So long as he seems well-favored towards me, what does it matter ? and to me he is handsome now, as he was before.' " ' My son is injured, my son is injured I' repeated Maria, weeping. ' I had rather that my eyes had been dried up, than live to see my Benito tuerto.' " ' But, senora, as you are not going to marry him, but only 1 1 and I think it not worth mentioning,' replied Rosa. " ' I who brought him forth with two eyes more beautiful than two stars, I' continued Maria between her sobs. 'Ay f que dolor, que dolor /' '■ ' Do not cry, wife,' said Martin to Maria, ' rather give thanks to God for the mercy He has Bhown us, bringing our son home in safety. Only a little while ago you did not even dare to ask so great a grace of His Divine Majesty ; and now when He has granted it, though you could not hope for it, in place of thanking Him, you cry over what has happened. You want everything without a drawback, and to the measure of your wishes ; but my wife, this cannot be.' " The Conde stopped speaking, and the Marquesa also remained silent, with her head inclined, "About what are you thinking, my friend?" asked the Conde, after at pause. " Have I a least persuaded you by the logic of facts, that — All is completed only in the other life ?" 1 was asking myself," replied the Marquesa, " which of the two cared most for Benito : his mother, who was so greatly afflicted by his disfigurement, or his betrothed, who made so light of it ?" " Each was in their way the most perfect type of their respective loves," said the Oonde, " and in my turn I must conclude from this, that there is one thing complete in this world all noble love in a woman's lieart 1"