lso the body that cast
it reach in its fall, for fall it obviously must; and as the danger was
pressing, he deemed it unwise to discuss which of the four cardinal
points the tower might feel a leaning toward, whenever, under the
impulse of the subterranean scourge, it would "look around and choose
its ground." Don Marzio was gifted with animal courage, and even nerve,
proportionate to the might of his stalwart frame. But then his was
merely a combative spirit. Thews and sinews were of no avail in the
case. The garden was no breathing ground for him, and he resolved upon
prompt emigration.

The people of Aquila, as indeed you may well know, of most towns in
Southern Italy, have the habit of--consequently a peculiar talent
for--earthquakes. They know how to deal with them, and are seldom caught
unprepared. Two hundred yards outside the town gate, there is half a
square mile of table-land on the summit of a hill--a market-place in
days of ease, a harbor of refuge in the urgency of peril. From the first
dropping of the earth-ball from the hand of their guardian saint, the
most far-sighted among the inhabitants had been busy pitching their
tents. The whole population--those, that is, who had escaped unscathed
by flying tiles and chimney-pots--were now swarming there, pulling,
pushing, hauling, and hammering away for very life: with women fainting,
children screeching, Capuchins preaching. It was like a little rehearsal
of doomsday. Don Marzio, a prudent housekeeper, had the latch-key of a
private door at the back of the garden. He threw it open--not without a
misgiving at the moss-grown wall overhead. That night the very stars did
not seem to him sufficiently firm-nailed to the firmament! His family
and dependents trooped after him, eager to follow. Rosalbina looked
back--at one who was left behind. Don Marzio felt he owed me at least
one word of leave-taking. He hemmed twice, came back two steps, and gave
me a feverish shake of the hand.

"I am heartily sorry for you, my boy," he cried. "A _fuoruscito_, as I
may say, a bird-in-the-bush--you dare not show your nose outside the
door. You would not compromise yourself alone, you know, but all of us
and our friends; we must leave you--safe enough here, I dare say," with
a stolen glance at the Ursuline spire, "but--you see--imperative
duties--head of a family--take care of the females--and so, God bless
you!"

With this he left me there, under the deadly shade of the
steeple