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Page 30
She would go to the blessed _Madre_ and say,--
"Ah, _Madre mia_, I heard thee singing to the Bambino, and it was so
sweet, _so_ sweet, I could not help but follow, I _love_ it so."
She stepped softly to the heavy doors, and with her whole weight
bracing against one, pushed it softly open and passed through. Ah! but
it was beautiful here.
Far, far above her head shone out dimly a hundred sparks of light like
twinkling stars. And everywhere hung garlands of green, sweet-smelling
garlands of green, that filled the place with their spicy fragrance.
And no one need grow weary here for lack of resting-place. Why, it was
quite filled with seats, soft-cushioned and comfortable. Nina stole
into one of the pews and sat down. She was very tired,--very, very
tired.
From her dim corner she peeped forth timidly, scarcely daring to raise
her eyes lest the vision of the radiant Madonna should burst upon her
view all too suddenly. But when at last she really gazed aloft to the
point from which the tremulous voice sprung, no glorified figure met
her view. She still heard the melting, thrilling tones, but, alas! the
blessed singer--the Santa Maria--was invisible. All she could
distinguish in the half-gloom of the place was the form of a man seated
in the lofty gallery overhead. He was sitting before some kind of
instrument, and his fingers slipping over the keys were bringing forth
the most wonderful sounds. Ah, yes! Nina knew what music one could
make with one's fingers. Did not Telemacho play upon the harp? Did
not she herself accompany her own singing upon her fiddle,--her darling
fiddle, which she clasped lovingly beneath her arm and bravely tried to
shield from the weather? But surely, surely he could not be _playing_
that voice! Oh, no! it was the Santa Maria, and she was up in heaven
out of sight. It was only the sound of her singing that had come to
earth. Poor little Nina! She was so often disappointed that it was
not very hard to miss another joy. She must comfort herself by finding
a reason for it. If there was a reason, it was not so hard. Nina had
to think of a great many reasons. But nevertheless she could not
control one little sigh of regret. She would so much have liked to see
the Santa Maria. If she _had_ seen her, she thought she would have
asked her to give her a Christmas gift,--something she could always
keep, something that no one could take from her and that would never
spoil nor break. One had need of just such an indestructible
possession if one lived in the "Italian Quarter." Things got sadly
broken there. And--and--there were so few, so very few gifts. But it
was warm and dim and sweet in here,--a right good place in which to
rest when one was tired. She bent her head and leaned it against the
wooden back of the seat, and her eyes wandered first to one interesting
object and then to another,--to the tall windows, each of which was a
most beautiful picture, and all made of wonderfully colored glass; to
the frescoed walls garlanded with green and at last to the organ-loft
itself, in which was the solitary figure of the musician, seated before
that strange, many-keyed instrument of his, practising his Christmas
music.
He had lit the gas-jets at either side of the key-board, and they threw
quite a light upon him as he played, and upon the huge organ-pipes
above his head. Nina thought she had never seen anything as beautiful
as were their illuminated surfaces. She did not know what they were,
but that did not matter. She thought they looked very much like
exceedingly pointed slippers set upright upon their toes. She fancied
they were slippers belonging to the glorious angels who, Telemacho
said, always came to earth at Christmas-tide to sing heavenly anthems
for the Festa del Ges� Bambino, and to distribute blessings to those
who were worthy.
Perhaps they had trod upon the ice outside, and had wet the soles of
their slippers, so that they had been forced to set them up on end to
dry. She had no doubt they would be gone in the morning.
The tremulous voice had ceased some time ago, and now the organ was
sending forth deep, heavy chords that made the air thrill and vibrate.
The pew in which Nina sat quite shook with the sounds, and she shrank
away from the wooden back, and cuddled down upon the cushion in the
seat, feeling very mysterious and awestruck, but withal quite warm and
happily expectant.
"Ah, ah!" she thought, "they are coming,--the angels are coming. That
is why the seat trembles so. There are so many of them that though
they step very lightly it shakes the ground. He, up there, is playing
their march music for them. Oh, I know! I know! I have seen the
soldiers in the streets; and when they came one could feel the ground
tremble, and they had music, too,--they kept step to it. I 'll lie
very still and not move, and maybe I can even get a glimpse of the Ges�
Bambino himself, and if I should--ah! _if_ I should, then I know I 'd
never be tired nor cold nor sad-hearted any more."
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