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THE SHADOW.

“And yet, my son, thou must endure the trial!
Well thou knowest the rule of our order which
declares, that once in a hundred years, a brother
shall be selected from among the brotherhood, to
take a vow, yet more solemn, more awful than the
vow uttered by a simple monk. It is the vow of
eternal separation from the world, and from sight
of the faces of men. Hidden in his solitary cell,
the One Set-apart, shall pass his days, his nights,
in one unending solitude, save that once in every
year, it is enjoined upon him, to appear unto the
sight of the world, for one hour, while from the
pulpit of the Grand Chapel of the Cathedral, he
shall speak to the multitude of the wonderful
revelations made to his soul in the passing year.
From thy childhood, Adrian, thou hast been
selected as the one set-apart. One month hence
thou wilt take this solemn vow of eternal separation.
Yet stay—there is another condition to be
complied with first. It is the rule of our Order
that the month previous to the taking of the vow,
shall be spent, by the Neophyte, amid the glare
and glitter of the world. When the end of that
period arrives, should the One Set-apart still desire
to take the solemn vow, 'tis well. But should
his heart fail him, after his eye has feasted upon
the vanities of life—then it is also well. He may
recede; he may refuse to take the vow, and God
will still be honored, for He asks of his children,
none other than a willing service. To-morrow
Adrian, the Carnival begins, here in Florence.—
And to-morrow, Adrian, thou wilt commence the
TRIAL.”

The Neophyte bowed low, and folded his hands
upon his priestly robe.

“Come hither, Adrian, to this emblazoned window.
The sun has set, in the west, and the new
moon gleams through the azure. When that
moon has attained her full orbed glory, here in
this solemn cathedral—thy month of trial passed
—on the last day of the Carnival, when the folly
and mirth of that mad time shall have swelled to
universal riot and revel, then, if thou art still firm,
in this temple shalt thou take the solemn vow—
the oath of oaths—and all Florence shall hail thee
as the sacred—as the One Set-apart!”

“So may it be, my holy father!” said the Neophyte
with a voice of prayer.

“Adrian I have thought of this, thy solemn trial
with much pain. A dim and shadowy fear has
crossed my mind, that thou wert not strong
enough for the ordeal. Yet methinks, I have
discovered a way which hedged in as it is by the
fires of the ordeal, may still guide thee through
the trial unscathed. Hast ever heard of the fair
Countess Rose, Heiress of the Palaces and Lands
of Ellarini?”

“Father,” replied the youth, “in the still solitudes
of these walls, but little of the gossip of the
world without breaks upon the student's ear.—
Still it were hard to wait at the altar, where the
gay cavaliers of Florence throng to worship, without
hearing the name of the Lady Rose, which is
whispered by every gay tongue, and repeated by
every gallant voice. The fame of her beauty has
been echoed even within the shadows of these
walls.”

“One month hence, my son, the Countess Di
Ellarini will succeed to the broad lands of her
deceased father. On the last day of the Carnival,
the Holy Church will celebrate the sacrament of
matrimony between this fair lady, and the gallant
Lord Urban Di Capello—Hast heard his name!”

“All Florence repeat the praises of the rich
lord—and report speaks him young and handsome.”

“Well, my son—thus runs my story. It is the
desire of the fair lady, to procure from our convent
a brother skilled in the mystery of music. I
know none more gifted than thou. Haste thee
away to the Palace Di Ellarini. Thy name will
gain thee audience with the fair lady—commence
thy instructions this very night. Thy harp
shall be sent after thee as well as thy missals of
devotion, by the hands of a lay brother. Thou
art to remain in the palace, until the last day of
the Carnival, save that one hour each night, thou
art to spend in thy cell in this convent. And
now my son away—yet, hold, I will open this
postern door.”