The Amulet | Page 7

During the few hours of repose granted to us, or rather to our overseers,
I hastened to the blind woman and shared with her the best of my food;
I strove to fortify her by the hope that God would liberate her from this
terrible slavery; I told her, that should I ever become free, I would
procure her liberation, even were it necessary to renounce for years my
own pleasures that I might amass sufficient for her ransom. I spoke to
her of our country, of the goodness of God, and of the probability of
my liberation. The poor blind woman kissed my hands, and called me
an angel sent by God to illumine the darkness of her life by the sweet

rays of consolation and piety. I was only a few months her fellow-slave.
My uncle, learning my captivity through messengers I had employed,
sent to Algiers an armed vessel to liberate me. Besides the amount of
my ransom, he sent me means to transport some valuable merchandise
from Barbary to Italy. When I took leave of the blind woman, I was so
deeply touched by her sorrow, that I pondered upon the means of
restoring her to liberty. It is true that in order to effect this, I would be
obliged to employ a large portion of the money sent me by my uncle
for the purchase of merchandise, and I was convinced that my uncle,
who was inflexible in exacting fidelity to commercial regulations,
would overwhelm me with his anger, but my heart gained the
ascendency over my reason, and Christian charity triumphed. Listening
only to my compassion, I ransomed the unfortunate woman, and with
my own hands I unbound her chains. That was the happiest moment of
my life."
Mary and her father were both touched by the recital of the young man.
"Oh, Geronimo," exclaimed Mary, "may God bless you for having been
so compassionate to the poor Christian slave!"
"You did well, Geronimo," said Mr. Van de Werve, "and I esteem and
love you more for your generosity to the unfortunate blind woman.
How happy her unexpected liberation must have made her!"
"When I told her she was free, and that she could accompany me to her
native land, she was almost wild with joy; she laughed and wept by
turns; she cast herself upon the ground, and raising her hands to heaven,
thanked God; she embraced my knees and watered my feet with her
tears. Not knowing how to testify her gratitude, she drew this strange
amulet from her bosom and presented it to me, conjuring me to wear it
always. She told me that it possessed the power of protecting and
saving the one who carried it on his person, when all human aid failed
or was insufficient. As to the origin of the amulet, she only knew that it
had been brought back from Jerusalem by one of her ancestors, who
had made a pilgrimage thither in expiation of an involuntary homicide,
and from that time it had been, religiously guarded in their family as a
precious relic. She had no doubt of its power, and related many strange

things to justify her faith. She maintained that she owed to the amulet
her unexpected return to Italy."
"Does she still live?" asked Mary.
"When in sight of Italy, I put her on board of a boat bound to Porto
Fiero; I gave her a small sum of money, and begged the boatman to
attend to her comforts. Poor Teresa Mostajo--that is her name--I doubt
not, is living peacefully in her native village, and prays much for me.
This is the only reason why I attribute any virtue to the amulet; I
believe in the protection of this sign because it has been sanctified by
an act of Christian charity, and by the grateful prayers of the poor blind
woman tormented by the pagans for the name of Christ."
The old cavalier remained a moment silent, absorbed in thought. Then
taking the hand of the young man, he said to him: "I did not know you
before, Geronimo. I hope it may be in my power to prove to you how
much your generosity ennobles you and elevates you in my esteem; but
although your confidence in the amulet rests on so laudable a sentiment,
I would not rely too much upon it. You know the proverb says: 'Help
yourself, and Heaven will help you.'"
"Do not suppose, Mr. Van de Werve, that on that account I would be
guilty of any foolish imprudence. I know that the eye and sword are
good sentinels. When I pass through the streets at night, I am always
well accompanied, and my hand never leaves the hilt of my sword.
Therefore have no anxiety on this