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filled up the gorge of the mountam. But at the very moment when I fancied myself
alone, abandoned, and exposed to the fury of the elements, the sound of a human
voice struck my ear, apparently at no great distance, although I was for some time
unable to discern whence it came. While, with sharpened sight, I eagerly sought
about, the request for me not to advance, but instantly to screen myself under the
nearest rock, till the storm should be abated, was again repeated. With this command,
which for the moment appeared supernatural, I immediately complied, and soon after
espied my guardian-angel in the habit of a pilgrim, wedged in between two rocks. As
I could with safety quit my situation, I made my way, as well as I could, over the
stones which separated us, and joined him, with quickened pulse and renovated spirits.
Having kindly made room for me, we entered into conversation—when he informed me
of the particulars of his pilgrimage, and the cause of his happening at that time to cross
the mountain. After speaking of the fatigue and hardships he had undergone, and the
many astonishing things he had seen at Rome during the Passion-week, he smilingly
asked me, whether I could suspect what had tempted him to travel so far on foot
alone and unprotected ? Answering in the negative, he continued by saying, " That,
having a partiality for a relative, whom his parents, from principles of devotion, would
not consent that he should marry, unless he previously obtained permission of the
Pope, he had undertaken the journey 5 and having met with success, and being but
a few hours' walk from the parental roof, near which the object of his affections resided,
he rejoiced that he had acquiesced."
During this young man's recital (who appeared intelligent, communicative, and
amiable, and had scarce attained his three-and-twentieth year), I stood listening with
silent attention, feeling every emotion of his heart as if vibrating in my own j yet time
imperceptibly glided away, and I became uneasy, from being ignorant of my situation,
and could not refrain from expressing my fears on that account;—at which, with extreme
candour and civility, he begged me not to be distressed •, that, if I would but accompany
him, he could insure me a welcome reception and a bed} that, as his dwelling was
rather nearer than St. Pierre, the village I was desirous of reaching, he advised me not
to decline his offer, for that on the morrow he would conduct me thither, and procure
a mule for the continuance of my journey.—Though nothing could be more humane
or generous than this offer, yet did I hesitate, and knew not whether to accept or"
refuse,—a state of indecision which originated neither from suspicion nor fear, but
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