Lagerlöf, Selma, 1858-1940 -- Translations into English; Short stories, Swedish -- Translations into English; Sweden -- Fiction
Everywhere they bemoaned the approaching demise of the brilliant leader.
They feared that the good fortune which had followed the Church's
standard under Leo XIII might not be faithful to it under the leadership
of his successor. There were many who had hoped that this Pope would
succeed in winning back Rome and the Ecclesiastical States. Others,
again, had dreamed that he would bring back into the bosom of the Church
some of the large Protestant countries.
For each second that was passing, fear and anxiety grew apace. As night
came on, in many homes the inmates would not retire. The churches were
kept open until long past midnight, that the anxious ones might have an
opportunity to go in and pray.
Among these throngs of devotees there was certainly more than one poor
soul who cried out: "Dear Lord, take my life instead of his! Let him,
who has done so much for Thy glory, live, and extinguish instead my
life-flame, which burns to no one's use!"
But if the Angel of Death had taken one of these devotees at his word
and had suddenly stepped up to him, with sword raised, to exact the
fulfilment of his promise, one might wonder somewhat as to how he would
have behaved. No doubt he would have recalled instantly such a rash
proffer and begged for the grace of being allowed to live out all the
years of his allotted time.
At this time there lived an old woman in one of the dingy ramshackle
houses along the Tiber. She was one of those who have the kind of spirit
that thanks God every day for life. Every morning she used to sit at the
market-place and sell garden truck. And this was an occupation that was
very congenial to her. She thought nothing could be livelier than a
market of a morning. All tongues were wagging--all were harking their
commodities, and buyers crowded in front of the stalls, selected and
bargained, and many a good sally passed between buyer and seller.
Sometimes the old woman was successful in making a good deal and in
selling out her entire stock; but even if she couldn't sell so much as a
radish, she loved to be standing amongst flowers and green things in the
fresh morning air.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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