of self-murder, that others in their turn then take
up, borne from age to age on their willing but aching
shoulders. And here again, for the third time,
in the course of five centuries, I have arrived at
the summit of one of the hills which overlooks the
city; and perhaps I bring again with me terror, desolation,
and death. And this unhappy city, intoxicated
in a whirl of joys, and nocturnal revelries, knows
nothing about it—oh! it knows not that
I am at its very gate. But no! no! my presence
will not be a source of fresh calamity to it.
The Lord, in His unsearchable wisdom, has brought
me hither across France, making me avoid on my route
all but the humblest villages, so that no increase
of the funeral knell has, marked my journey.
And then, moreover, the spectre has left me—that
spectre, livid and green, with its deep bloodshot eyes.
When I touched the soil of France, its moist and icy
hand abandoned mine—it disappeared.
And yet I feel the atmosphere of death surrounding
me still. There is no cessation; the biting gusts
of this sinister wind, which envelop me in their breath,
seem by their envenomed breath to propagate the scourge.
Doubtless the anger of the Lord is appeased. Maybe,
my presence here is meant only as a threat, intending
to bring those to their senses whom it ought to intimidate.
It must be so; for were it otherwise, it would, on
the contrary, strike a loud-sounding blow of greater
terror, casting at once dread and death into the very
heart of the country, into the bosom of this immense
city. Oh, no! no! the Lord will have mercy; He
will not condemn me to this new affliction. Alas!
in this city my brethren are more numerous and more
wretched than in any other. And must I bring
death to them? No! the Lord will have mercy; for,
alas! the seven descendants of my sister are at last
all united in this city. And must I bring death
to them? Death! instead of that immediate assistance
they stand so much in need of? For that woman
who, like myself, wanders from one end of the world
into the other, has gone now on her everlasting journey,
after having confounded their enemies’ plots.
In vain did she foretell that great evils still threatened
those who are akin to me through my sister’s
blood. The unseen hand by which I am led, drives
that woman away from me, even as though it were a whirlwind
that swept her on. In vain she entreated and
implored at the moment she was leaving those who are
so dear to me.—At least, 0 Lord, permit
me to stay until I shall have finished my task!
Onward! A few days, for mercy’s sake, only
a few days! Onward! I leave these whom I
am protecting on the very brink of an abyss!
Onward! Onward!! And the wandering star is
launched afresh on its perpetual course. But her
voice traversed through space, calling me to the assistance
of my own! When her voice reached me I felt that
the offspring of my sister were still exposed to fearful
dangers: those dangers are still increasing.
Oh, say, say, Lord! shall the descendants of my sister