The priest pointed to his own breast with a long knotty finger.

"I?" he exclaimed bitterly, "never!"

At these words, the boy's father, rudely roused from his mood of tender
exaltation, and bursting, after his wont, into sudden fury, stretched
his arm towards the priest, with a cry that rang through the room like a
pistol-shot: "Out of my house this instant!"

The priest stalked out, slamming the door. The lad's arms were about his
father's neck; and the old man, laying his hands on his son's head, said
gently: "I forgive you."






PEREAT ROCHUS

BY

ANTONIO FOGAZZARO

The Translation by A. L. Frothingham, Jr.


I.