Free The Bravo by James Fenimore Cooper

public acts from the fearful responsibility
of his private deeds; as if God, in endowing his being with reason and
the glorious hopes of Christianity, had also endowed him with two souls,
of which only one was to be cared for."
    "Are there not those, Father, who believe that, while the evil we commit
as individuals is visited on our own persons, that which is done by
states, falls on the nation?"
    "The pride of human reason has invented diverse subtleties to satisfy
its own longings, but it can never feed itself on a delusion more fatal
than this! The crime which involves others in its guilt or consequences,
is doubly a crime, and though it be a property of sin to entail its own
punishment, even in our present life, he trusts to a vain hope who
thinks the magnitude of the offence will ever be its apology. The chief
security of our nature is to remove it beyond temptation, and he is
safest from the allurements of the world who is farthest removed from
its vices. Though I would wish justice done to the noble Neapolitan, it
may be for his everlasting peace that the additional wealth he seeks
should be withheld."
    "I am unwilling to believe, Father, that a cavalier, who has shown
himself so ready to assist the distressed, will easily abuse the gifts
of fortune."
    The Carmelite fastened an uneasy look on the bright features of the
young Venetian. Parental solicitude and prophetic foresight were in his
glance, but the expression was relieved by the charity of a chastened
spirit.
    "Gratitude to the preserver of thy life becomes thy station and sex; it
is a duty. Cherish the feeling, for it is akin to the holy obligation of
man to his Creator."
    "Is it enough to feel grateful!" demanded Violetta. "One of my name and
alliances might do more. We can move the patricians of my family in
behalf of the stranger, that his protracted suit may come to a more
speedy end."
    "Daughter, beware; the intercession of one in whom St. Mark feels so
lively an interest, may raise up enemies to Don Camillo, instead of
friends."
    Donna Violetta was silent, while the monk and Donna Florinda both
regarded her with affectionate concern. The former then adjusted his
cowl, and prepared to depart. The noble maiden approached the Carmelite,
and looking into his face with ingenuous confidence and habitual
reverence, she besought his blessing. When the solemn and customary
office was performed, the monk turned towards the companion of his
spiritual charge. Donna Florinda permitted the silk, on which her needle
had been busy, to fall into her lap, and she sat in meek silence, while
the Carmelite raised his open palms towards her bended head. His lips
moved, but the words of benediction were inaudible. Had the ardent being
intrusted to their joint care been less occupied with her own feelings,
or more practised in the interests of that world into which she was
about to enter, it is probable she would have detected some evidence of
that deep but smothered sympathy, which so often betrayed itself in the
silent intelligence of her ghostly father and her female Mentor.
    "Thou wilt not forget us, Father?" said Violetta, with winning
earnestness. "An orphan girl, in whose fate the sages of the Republic so
seriously busy themselves, has need of every friend in whom she can
confide."
    "Blessed be thy intercessor," said the monk, "and the peace of the
innocent be with thee."
    Once more he waved his hand, and turning, he slowly quitted the room.
The eye of Donna Florinda followed the white robes of the Carmelite,
while they were visible; and when it fell again upon the silk, it was
for a moment closed, as if looking at the movements of the rebuked
spirit within. The young mistress of the palace summoned a menial, and
bade him do honor to her confessor, by seeing him to his gondola. She
then moved to the open balcony. A long pause succeeded; it was such a
silence, breathing, thoughtful, and luxurious with the repose of Italy,
as suited the city and the hour. Suddenly Violetta