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THE TWO COUSINS OF ST. PETER⁷⁹

St. Peter had two young cousins whom he sought to bring up in the way of righteousness according to Christian doctrine. As they were very docile, and listened gladly to his word, he strove to lead them in the way of all perfection; and to this end counselled them to give themselves up entirely to serve God in a community of His handmaidens, where they should live for the Divine spouse of their souls, and for Him alone.

The work of the Church called St. Peter away from the East, and he was already gone to establish the faith in Rome before the maidens had decided as to their vocation. It was not till many years after that St. Peter heard, to his surprise, on occasion of St. Timothy coming to visit St. Paul in Rome, that while the youngest indeed had fulfilled his expectations, and had given herself up to the religious life, the elder had married and established herself in the world, and become the mother of a large family.

During his long confinement in the dark dungeon of the Mamertine prison, St. Peter’s thoughts would often revert from the immense cares of his sublime office to the quiet hours he had passed in the lowly dwelling by the Lake of Tiberias, where his pious cousins had so often sat at his feet listening to his instructions. And he found a peaceful pleasure in recalling the way in which they had responded to them; the spontaneity with which they had apprehended the maxims of the new religion; their fervour in applying them to their own rule of life; their readiness to go beyond what was bidden them, that so they might testify their love for their Divine Master; their delight in all that reminded them of God and His law.

“And to think that one of them should have gone back from all this! should have been content to give up these exalted aspirations! How sadly her ardour must have cooled! What could have worked this change?” the apostle would muse, in his distress, and pray silently for her forgiveness and guidance; but his thoughts would revert with greater affection and satisfaction to the more favoured state of the soul of the younger sister.

It was not long before the terrible decree of Nero consigning St. Peter to the death of the cross was pronounced, and from the height of the Janiculum he was received into the celestial mansion to keep the gate of the Kingdom of Heaven.

He had not exercised this office many years when our Lord called him to Him one day, and bid him open the gate of heaven to its widest stretch and deck its approaches as for a high festival, for that one of the holiest of earth and the dearest to Himself was to be received into the abode of the Blessed.

“That must be my youngest cousin,” said St. Peter, “there is no doubt; she who generously gave up a world in which she was so well adapted to shine, to live a life of perfection with God above only for its object;” and he strained his eyes to see far along the approach to Paradise, that he might catch the first glimpse of her glorified soul and greet it with the earliest welcome.

How great was his surprise then, when roused by the melodious strains of the angelic host escorting her, to hear in the refrain of their chant the name of the Sorellona⁸⁰, not of the younger of the sisters! Meantime the celestial cortége was wafted by, and the beautiful spirit was welcomed by the Divine Master Himself, and placed on one of the highest seats in His kingdom.

Not many days after our Lord called St. Peter to Him again, and told him to open the gate a little, very little way, and to make no preparations for rejoicing, for He had promised admission to a soul who, though of his family, yet had only escaped being excluded by a hair’s breadth.

St. Peter went away perplexed, for he knew there was no one of his family who could be coming to heaven just at that time except the younger of the two cousins, and how could the Lord’s words apply to her?

He durst do no more than open the gate a very little way, but stationed himself opposite that small cleft to obtain the earliest information as to who the new comer really was.

Presently a solitary angel came soaring – the only escort of a trembling soul – and, as he approached, without chorus or melody, he begged admission for one whom, by the name, St. Peter discerned was actually the Sorellotta⁸¹ he had deemed so meritorious! With great difficulty, and by the help of the angel who conducted her, and of St. Peter himself, she succeeded in passing the sacred portal; and after she had been led to the footstool of the Heavenly Throne in silence, He who sat on it pointed to a very little, low, distant seat, as the one assigned to her.

When St. Peter afterwards came to discourse with the Lord about His dealings with the two souls, he learnt that she who performed her duty with great exactness and perfection in the world was more pleasing in His sight than she who, while straining after the fulfilment of a higher rule, yet fell short of correspondence with so great a grace.

LUXEHALE’S WIVES

The Devil goes wandering over the earth in many disguises, and that not only to hunt souls; sometimes it is to choose for himself a wife, but when he goes on these expeditions he calls himself “Luxehale.”

There was once a very beautiful princess, very proud of her beauty, who had vowed she would never marry any but the handsomest prince. Numbers of princes, who heard the fame of her beauty, came to ask her hand, but directly she saw them she declared they were not handsome enough for her, and drove them out of the city. Her parents were in despair, for there was scarcely any young prince left in the world whom she had not thus rejected.

One day the trumpeters sounded the call by which they were wont to announce the arrival of a visitor.

The princess sat with her mother in an arbour.

“Ah!” said the queen, “there is another come to ask your hand. How I wish he may be the really handsome one you desire, this time!”

“It is all useless, mother; I don’t mean to see any more of them – they are all uglier, one than the other.”

The queen was about to answer by instancing several noted paragons of manly beauty whom she had rejected like the rest, but the chamberlain came in with great importance just at that moment, to say that the prince who had just arrived appeared to be a very great prince indeed, and that he was in a great hurry, and demanded to see the princess instantly.

The princess was very indignant at this abrupt proposal, and refused absolutely to see him; but at last the queen got her to consent to place herself in a hollow pillar in the great reception-hall, and through a little peephole, contrived in the decorations, take a view of him without his knowing that she did so.

When the princess thus saw the stranger, she was dazzled with the perfection of his form and the surpassing beauty of his countenance, and she could hardly restrain herself from darting from her hiding-place and offering him her hand at once; in order to preserve herself from committing such a mistake, she immediately let herself down through a little trap-door into the room below, where it had been agreed that her mother should meet her.

“Well, what did you think of him?” said the queen, who did not keep her long waiting.

“Oh! I think he might do,” said the princess, with an assumed air of indifference, for she was too proud to acknowledge how much she admired him.

The queen was overjoyed that at length she consented to marry, and so put an end to the anxiety she was in to see her established before she died. That she might not take it into her head to go back from what she had said, her parents hastened on the wedding preparations, and the prince seemed very anxious, too, that no delay should occur. As soon as the festivities were over, he handed his bride into a magnificent gold coach, and drove off with her, followed by a retinue which showed he was a very great prince indeed.

Away they rode many days’ journey, till at last they reached a palace of greater magnificence than any thing the princess had ever conceived, filled with crowds of servants, who fulfilled her least wish almost before it was uttered, and where every pleasure and every gratification was provided for her in abundance.

The prince took great pleasure in conducting her frequently over every part of the palace, and it was so vast that, after she had been over it many times, there was still much which seemed strange to her; but what was strangest of all was, there was one high door, all of adamant, which the prince never opened, and the only cross word he had spoken to her was once when she had asked him whither it led.

After some time it happened that the prince had to go on a considerable journey, and before he left he confided to his wife the keys of all the apartments in the palace, but she observed the key of the adamant door was not among them, and ventured to ask why it was not.

“Because no one passes through that door but myself; and I advise you not to think any thing more about that door, or you may be sure you will repent it,” and he spoke very sternly and positively.

This only whetted her curiosity still more; and she was no sooner sure he was at a safe distance, than she determined to go down and see if some of the keys would not open this door. The first she tried in it showed there was no need of any, for it was unlocked, and pushed open at her touch. It gave entrance to a long underground passage, which received a strange lurid light from the opening at the far end.

The princess pursued the ominous corridor with beating heart; and, when she reached the other end, made the frightful discovery that it was – the entrance to hell!

Without losing a moment, she rushed up-stairs, regained her own apartment, and sat down to contrive her escape, for she now perceived that it was the Devil, disguised as a beautiful prince, that she had married!

As she sat, pursued by a thousand agonizing thoughts, the gentle cooing of two pigeons in a cage soothed her, and reminded her of home.

Her father’s fondness had suggested that she should take the birds with her that she might have the means of communicating to him how it fared with her in her married home. Quickly she now wrote a note to tell him of the discovery she had made, and begging him to deliver her. She tied the note to one of the pigeons, and let them fly.

The Devil came back in the same disguise, and was profuse in his caresses; and he never thought of her having opened the door. But all the princess’s affection and admiration for him were gone, and it was with the greatest difficulty she contrived to keep up an appearance of the fondness she had formerly so warmly and so sincerely lavished.

Meantime the pigeons went on their way, and brought the note home. The king and queen were having dinner on the terrace, and with them sat a young stranger, named Berthold, conversing with them, but too sad to taste the food before him. He was one of those the princess had rejected without seeing, but as he had seen her, he was deeply distressed at the present separation. The pigeons flew tamely in narrowing circles round the king’s head, and, at last, the one which carried the note came fluttering on to the table before him. He would have driven them away, the rather, that they were all distressed and bleeding, and with scarcely a feather left, but the young stranger’s eye discovered the note, which was quickly opened and read.

“Oh, help me! What can I do?” exclaimed the king; “give me some counsel. How can I ever reach the Devil’s palace – and how could I fight him, if even I did get there?”

“May I be permitted to undertake the deliverance?” asked the stranger.

“Oh, in heaven’s name, yes!” cried the king.

“And shall I have your permission to pay my addresses to her when I bring her back?”

“Why, she will be yours – yours of right, if you succeed in rescuing her; altogether yours!”

“That must depend on herself. Nevertheless, if I have your consent to ask her in marriage, that is all I desire.”

“Go, and succeed!” devoutly exclaimed the king. “And whatever you stand in need of, be it men or money, or arms, you have but to command, and every thing shall be given you that you require.”

But the prince, who knew not what sort of enemy he had to encounter, or which way he had to go, knew not what assistance to ask for, but set out, trusting in God and his own good sense to guide him.

As he passed out of the castle enclosure his eyes were rejoiced to see lying on the ground some of the white feathers of the carrier-pigeons, and then he perceived that, not having been duly matched, they had fought all the way, and that the whole track was marked with their feathers. But as they, of course, had come by the directest course, it led him over steep precipices and wild, unfrequented places; still Berthold pursued his way through all difficulties without losing courage, and ever as he went pondering in his own mind with what arts he should meet the Devil.

He was passing through a desolate stony place, which seemed far from any habitations of men, when he saw a man crouching by the wayside, with his ear close against the rock.

“What are you doing there?” said Berthold.

“I am listening to what is going on in the Devil’s house,” answered the man, “for my sense of hearing is so fine, it carries as far as that.”

“Then come with me,” said Berthold; “I will find work for you which shall be well repaid.”

So the man left off listening, and walked on behind him.

A little farther on, he observed a man sitting on a ledge of the precipice, with his back to the road, and with all the world before him; and he gazed out into the far distance.

“What are you staring at?” said Berthold.

“I am gazing into the Devil’s house,” said the man, “for my sight is so sharp, it carries as far as that.”

“Then come along with me; I will give your eyes work that shall be well paid.” said Berthold.

So the man left off gazing, and turned and walked behind him.

“But stop!” said the prince; “let me have some little proof that you are as clever as you say. If you can see and hear into the Devil’s house, let me know what the Devil’s wife is doing.”

Then the first man crouched down with his ear against the rock; and the second man sat himself astride on a jutting projection of the precipice, and gazed abroad over the open space – Berthold taking care that they should be far enough apart not to communicate with each other.

“What do you see?” he said, when the second man had poised himself to his own satisfaction.

“I see a vast apartment, all of shining crystal, and the Devil lying fast asleep on a ledge of the flaming spar, while the Devil’s wife sits with averted face, and weeps.”

“And what do you hear?” he said, returning to the first man.

“I hear the Devil snore like the roaring of a wild beast, and I hear great sighs of a soft woman’s voice; and every now and then she says, ‘Why was I so foolish and haughty, as to send away all those noble princes whom I might have learnt to love? and above all, Berthold, whom I would not see, and who my mother said was better than them all; and I would not see him! If I could but see him now, how I would love him!’”

When Berthold heard that, he could not rest a minute longer, but told them he was satisfied; and hurried on so fast that they could scarce keep up with him.

On they went thus; and presently they saw a man amusing himself with lifting great boulders of rock, which he did so deftly that no one could hear him move them.

“You have a rare talent,” said Berthold; “come along with me, and I will pay your service well.”

So the man put down a great mass of rock he had in his arms, and walked on behind the prince.

Presently there were no more pigeons’ feathers to be seen, and Berthold wrung his hands in despair at losing the track.

“See!” said the man with the sharp sight, “there they lie, all down this steep, and along yonder valley, and over that high mountain! it will take three months to traverse that valley.”

“But it is impossible to follow along there at all!” cried all the men. But Berthold said they must find their way somehow.

While they were looking about to find a path to descend by, they saw a great eagle soaring round and round, flapping her wings, and uttering plaintive cries.

“I’ll tell you what’s the matter,” said the man with the sharp hearing: “one of her eggs has fallen down this ledge, and it is too narrow for her to get it out; I can hear the heart of the eaglet beating through the shell.”

“Eagle,” said the prince, “if I take out your egg, and give it to you, will you do something for me?”

“Oh, yes, any thing!” said the eagle.

“Well, that is a hot, sunny ledge,” said the prince; “your egg won’t hurt there till we come back – I have seen in my travels some birds which hatch their eggs entirely in the hot sand. Now you take us all on your back, and fly with us along the track wherever you see the pigeons’ feathers, and wait a few minutes while we complete our business there, and then bring us back; and then I’ll take your egg out of the fissure for you.”

“That’s not much to do!” said the eagle; “jump up, all of you.”

So they all got on the eagle’s back, the prince taking care so to arrange his men that the great neck and outstretched wings of the eagle should hide them from the Devil’s sight, should he have happened to be outside his house.

It took the eagle only two or three hours to reach the journey’s end, and by this time it was night.

“And now it is dark,” said Berthold, to the sharp-visioned man, as they alighted from the eagle’s back, “you cannot help us any more with your sight.”

“Oh, yes; the crystals of the Devil’s apartment always glitter with the same red glare by night or day. I see the Devil rolled up in bed fast asleep, and his wife sits on a chair by his side, and weeps.”

“And what do you hear?” he said, addressing the first attendant.

“I hear snoring and weeping, as before,” said the man addressed.

“Now you, who are so clever at lifting weights without being heard,” said the prince, “lift the great door off its hinges.”

“That’s done,” replied the man, a minute later, for he had done it so quietly Berthold was not aware he had moved from the spot.

“Since you have done this so well, I’m sure you’ll do the next job. You have now to go up into the Devil’s room, and bring the lady down without the least noise; if you show her this token, she will recognize it for her father’s device, and will come with you.”

The sharp-visioned man told him how he would have to go, for he could see all the inside of the house, lighted up as it was with the glaring crystals. But just as he was about to start, —

“Stop!” cried the man with the sharp ears; “I hear the Devil turn in his bed; our talking must have disturbed him.” So they all stood stock still in great fear.

“He seems to be getting up,” whispered the man with the sharp sight. “No; now he has turned round and rolled himself up once more.”

“And now he is snoring again,” continued the other.

“Then we may proceed,” replied the prince; and the third attendant went his way so softly that no one heard him go.

“Get up on the eagle’s back,” said Berthold to the other two, “that we may be ready to start immediately.” So the men took their places.

They had hardly done so when the man came back bearing the princess, and at a sign from Berthold sprang with her on to the eagle’s neck. The prince got up behind, and away flew the eagle – so swiftly that had he been less collected he might have lost his balance before he had secured his seat.

By daybreak they had reached the spot where the eagle’s egg had fallen. Berthold willingly exerted himself to restore her treasure to her, and she was so grateful that she proposed to fly with them home the remainder of the journey – an offer which they gladly accepted.

The Devil was still sleeping and snoring, they were assured by the clever attendants; and away they sped, reaching home just as the king and queen were sitting down to breakfast.

Great was the rejoicing in all the palace. The princess gladly acknowledged Berthold’s service by giving him her hand; and to all three attendants high offices were given at court. To the eagle was offered a gold cage and two attendants to wait on her, but she preferred liberty on her own high mountain, and flew away, accepting no reward but a lamb to carry home to her young ones.

When Luxehale woke next morning great was his fury to find that the princess was gone.

“Order out a troop of horse, and send and demolish her palace, and kill all belonging to her, and bring her home again,” was the advice of his chamberlain.

“No,” replied Luxehale; “I hate violence: I have other ways at command which I find answer better. There are people enough in the world glad enough to follow me willingly. It is not worth while to give myself much trouble with those who resist.” And he dressed himself, and walked out.

This time his steps were not directed towards a grand palace. He didn’t care particularly about birth or cultivation. There was a cottage situated just above one of the alleys of his pleasure-grounds where lived three beautiful peasant girls with an old father. Luxehale had often listened to their merry laugh and thought how he should like to have one of them for his wife; but he never could find any means of getting at them, as they were very quiet and modest, and never would enter into conversation with any stranger.

As he now walked along he heard their voices in earnest talk.

“It’s great nonsense of father selling all the celery, and not letting us have a taste of it!” said one, in a discontented voice.

“Yes, it is; I don’t mean to submit to it either,” said another.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t disobey father!” said the first.

“Well, it’s not such a great matter,” replied the other; “only a foot of celery⁸²!”

Luxehale was very glad when he heard that, for he had never been able to catch them in an act of disobedience before. He placed himself under the celery-bed and watched all the roots. The moment one began to shake, showing that they were pulling it up, Luxehale took hold of the root, and held it hard, so that, instead of their pulling it up, he contrived to drag down the girl who was trying to gather it.

It was the peasant’s eldest daughter Lucia; and much surprised was she, after passing through the hole Luxehale had made in the earth, to find herself in the arms of a handsome cavalier, who lavished the greatest care on her! Lucia had never been spoken to by such a good-looking gallant before, and felt much pleased with his attention. She begged him, however, to let her go; but he told her that was impossible. She was his captive, and he never meant to let her go again; but if she would only be quiet and reasonable she would be happier than any queen; that he would take her to a magnificent palace where she would have every thing she desired, and be as happy as the day was long, for he would make her his wife. In fact, he succeeded in dazzling her so with his promises that she began to feel a pleasure in going with him.

Nor did he break these promises. She was installed into all the enjoyments of which we have seen the former wife in possession; and as the Devil admired her beauty, and flattered and fondled her, she did not altogether regret her captivity. But when the time came that he had to go upon earth about his business, he brought her all the keys of the place, with the express recommendation that she was never to attempt to open the adamant door; then he plucked a red rose, and placed it in her bosom, as a memorial of him, which he promised should not fade till his return, and departed.

Lucia amused herself very well at first with various occupations and amusements the palace afforded, and which were new to her; but as the days fled by she began to grow weary, and at last, from being tired and out of spirits with her loneliness, she became possessed with so intense a curiosity to see what lay hid behind the adamant door, that she could not resist it.

Accordingly she went down at last, with the bunch of keys in her hand, and with trembling steps made her way up to it. But, without even trying one of the keys, she found her touch pushed it open, and made the terrible discovery, that it was the gate of hell! She turned to escape, and rushed back to her apartment, to weep bitterly over her forlorn condition.

Two or three days later a train of waggons came laden with beautiful presents Luxehale had bought and sent home to amuse her, and she became so interested in turning them all over, that when he returned she was as bright and smiling as if nothing had happened.

Luxehale ran to embrace her, but suddenly observed that the rose had withered on her bosom! When he saw that, he pushed her from him. He had given it to her as a test to ascertain whether she had gone through the adamant door, for the heat of the fire was sure to tarnish it – and now he knew she was in possession of his secret.

“You have opened the adamant door!” he exclaimed, fiercely; and she, seeing him so fierce, thought it better to deny it.

“It is useless to deny it,” he replied; “for nothing else would have tarnished that rose.” And saying that, he dragged her down to it and thrust her within its enclosure, saying, “You wanted to know what there was behind the adamant door; now you will know all about it.”

Luxehale now had to look out for another wife. He at once bethought him of Lucia’s sisters, and went pacing up and down under their garden, as before. The two sisters were talking with some warmth.

“I don’t see why father should have forbidden us to look through the trellis!” said the voice which had spoken first on the former occasion.

“Nor I,” said the other. “And I don’t mean to be kept in in that style either,” said the other.

Quick as thought the Devil transformed himself into a serpent and worked his way up through the earth to the other side of the trellis, where he waited till the maiden put her head through, as she had threatened. She had no sooner done so than he caught her in his coils and carried her down under the earth. Before she had time to recover from her surprise, he had transformed himself back into the handsome cavalier who had charmed Lucia.

It was the second sister, Orsola; and her opposition to his advances was as easily overcome as Lucia’s. She lived in the palace as Lucia had done, and learnt to feel great delight in its pleasures. At last the day came when the Devil had to go upon earth about his business, and he left her with the same charge about the adamant door, and placed a red rose on her breast, which he promised should not fade till his return. After a time her weariness induced Orsola to peep through the fatal door; and the hot blast which escaped as she opened it would have been sufficient to drive her away, but that it came charged with the sound of a familiar voice!

“Lucia!” she screamed, in a voice thrilled with horror.

“Orsola!” returned her unhappy sister, in a tone of agony.

Orsola knew enough. She did not dare venture farther; and as she made her way back to her apartment she saw in the court below the retinue which had escorted her husband back. Assuming as composed a mien as possible, she went out to meet him, and he ran towards her with every appearance of affection – but his eye caught the withered rose.

“You have opened the adamant door,” he said, sternly. “There is no help for you; those who once pass it cannot live up above here any more. You must go back, and live there for ever!” And, regardless of her entreaties and cries, he dragged her down, and thrust her into the burning pit.

Luxehale now had to search for another wife, and he determined it should be no other than the third of the sisters. “But,” he reflected, as he walked towards her cottage, “now she has no one left to talk to, how shall I manage? Ah, well, I generally find a way to do most things I take in hand – and if I don’t catch her I needn’t break my heart; there are plenty of girls in the world whom I have arts to enthrall.”

But he did hear her voice. As he got near she was singing, very sadly and sweetly, a verse which told her regrets for her sisters, and called on them to return.

“That’s all right!” said Luxehale, “she is sure to come to the spot where she last saw her sister. I’ll be there!”

So, transforming himself once more into a serpent, he wriggled through the earth and took up his place of observation beside the trellis. He had not been there long, when she actually came up to it, singing the same melancholy strains; and then she stopped to call, “Lucia! Orsola! Lucia! Orsola!” till the woods rang again. Then she seemed to get weary with calling, and she leant against the trellis.

“Ha! she’ll soon put her head through now,” chuckled Luxehale. And so she did, sure enough; and no sooner did her head appear on the other side than he twisted his coils round her and dragged her down under the earth.

Before she recovered herself he once more appeared as a handsome cavalier.

It was Regina, the youngest and best-conducted of the sisters.

“Let me go! let me go!” she cried, refusing to look at him.

“I thought I heard you calling for your sisters,” he replied, soothingly; “don’t you want to see them?”

“Oh, yes! tell me where they are.”

“I can’t tell you where they are,” he answered; “and if I did, it would be of no use, because you would not know the way to where they are. But if you come with me, it is possible we may be able to hear something about them some day. One thing is certain, no one else is so likely to be able to hear of them as I.”

Regina was terribly perplexed, something within her said she ought not to speak to the stranger gallant. “And yet, on the other hand, if, by going with him, I can do any thing to recover my dear sisters,” she thought, “I ought to risk something for that.”

When he saw her hesitate, he knew his affair was won; and, indeed, it required little persuasion to decide her now. As they went along he said so many soft and flattering things as to make her forget insensibly about her sisters. But when they got to the palace there were such a number of beautiful things to occupy her attention, so much to astonish her – a poor peasant maid who had never seen any of these fine things before – that she soon got habituated to her new life, and the fact of her having come for her sisters’ sake went quite out of her remembrance.