VENDETTA

A STORY OF ONE FORGOTTEN

By MARIE CORELLI

Author of "ARDATH, " "THELMA, " "A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS, " "WORMWOOD, "etc. , etc. 

PREFACE

Lest those who read the following pages should deem this story at allimprobable, it is perhaps necessary to say that its chief incidents arefounded on an actual occurrence which took place in Naples during thelast scathing visitation of the cholera in 1884. We know well enough, by the chronicle of daily journalism, that the infidelity of wives is, most unhappily, becoming common--far too common for the peace and goodrepute of society. Not so common is an outraged husband'svengeance--not often dare he take the law into his own hands--for inEngland, at least, such boldness on his part would doubtless be deemeda worse crime than that by which he personally is doomed to suffer. Butin Italy things are on a different footing--the verbosity and red-tapeof the law, and the hesitating verdict of special juries, are not thereconsidered sufficiently efficacious to sooths a man's damaged honor andruined name. And thus--whether right or wrong--it often happens thatstrange and awful deeds are perpetrated--deeds of which the world ingeneral hears nothing, and which, when brought to light at last, arereceived with surprise and incredulity. Yet the romances planned by thebrain of the novelist or dramatist are poor in comparison with theromances of real life-life wrongly termed commonplace, but which, infact, teems with tragedies as great and dark and soul-torturing as anydevised by Sophocles or Shakespeare. Nothing is more strange thantruth--nothing, at times, more terrible!

MARIE CORELLI. 

August, 1886. 

VENDETTA!

CHAPTER I. 

I, who write this, am a dead man. Dead legally--dead by absoluteproofs--dead and buried! Ask for me in my native city and they willtell you I was one of the victims of the cholera that ravaged Naples in1884, and that my mortal remains lie moldering in the funeral vault ofmy ancestors. Yet--I live! I feel the warm blood coursing through myveins--the blood of thirty summers--the prime of early manhoodinvigorates me, and makes these eyes of mine keen and bright--thesemuscles strong as iron--this hand powerful of grip--this well-knit formerect and proud of bearing. Yes!--I am alive, though declared to bedead; alive in the fullness of manly force--and even sorrow has leftfew distinguishing marks upon me, save one. My hair, once ebony-black, is white as a wreath of Alpine snow, though its clustering curls arethick as ever. 

"A constitutional inheritance?" asks one physician, observing myfrosted locks. 

"A sudden shock?" suggests another. 

"Exposure to intense heat?" hints a third. 

I answer none of them. I did so once. I told my story to a man I met bychance--one renowned for medical skill and kindliness. He heard me tothe end in evident incredulity and alarm, and hinted at the possibilityof madness. Since then I have never spoken. 

But now I write. I am far from all persecution--I can set down thetruth fearlessly. I can dip the pen in my own blood if I choose, andnone shall gainsay me! For the green silence of a vast South Americanforest encompasses me--the grand and stately silence of a virginalnature, almost unbroken by the ruthless step of man's civilization--ahaven of perfect calm, delicately disturbed by the fluttering wings andsoft voices of birds, and the gentle or stormy murmur of the freebornwinds of heaven. Within this charmed circle of rest I dwell--here Ilift up my overburdened heart like a brimming chalice, and empty it onthe ground, to the last drop of gall contained therein. The world shallknow my history. 

Dead, and yet living! How can that be?--you ask. Ah, my friends! If youseek to be rid of your dead relations for a certainty, you should havetheir bodies cremated. Otherwise there is no knowing what may happen!Cremation is the best way--the only way. It is clean, and SAFE. Whyshould there be any prejudice against it? Surely it is better to givethe remains of what we loved (or pretended to love) to cleansing fireand pure air than to lay them in a cold vault of stone, or down, downin the wet and clinging earth. For loathly things are hidden deep inthe mold--things, foul and all unnameable--long worms--slimy creatureswith blind eyes and useless wings--abortions and deformities of theinsect tribe born of poisonous vapor--creatures the very sight of whichwould drive you, oh, delicate woman, into a fit of hysteria, and wouldprovoke even you, oh, strong man, to a shudder of repulsion! But thereis a worse thing than these merely physical horrors which come ofso-called Christian burial--that is, the terrible UNCERTAINTY. What, ifafter we have lowered the narrow strong box containing our deardeceased relation into its vault or hollow in the ground--what, ifafter we have worn a seemly garb of woe, and tortured our faces intothe fitting expression of gentle and patient melancholy--what, I say, if after all the reasonable precautions taken to insure safety, theyshould actually prove insufficient? What--if the prison to which wehave consigned the deeply regretted one should not have such closedoors as we fondly imagined? What, if the stout coffin should bewrenched apart by fierce and frenzied fingers--what, if our late dearfriend should NOT be dead, but should, like Lazarus of old, come forthto challenge our affection anew? Should we not grieve sorely that wehad failed to avail ourselves of the secure and classical method ofcremation? Especially if we had benefited by worldly goods or moneyleft to us by the so deservedly lamented! For we are self-deceivinghypocrites--few of us are really sorry for the dead--few of us rememberthem with any real tenderness or affection. And yet God knows! they mayneed more pity than we dream of!

But let me to my task. I, Fabio Romani, lately deceased, am about tochronicle the events of one short year--a year in which was compressedthe agony of a long and tortured life-time! One little year!--one sharpthrust from the dagger of Time! It pierced my heart--the wound stillgapes and bleeds, and every drop of blood is tainted as it falls!

One suffering, common to many, I have never known--that is--poverty. Iwas born rich. When my father, Count Filippo Romani, died, leaving me, then a lad of seventeen, sole heir to his enormous possessions--solehead of his powerful house--there were many candid friends who, withtheir usual kindness, prophesied the worst things of my future. Nay, there were even some who looked forward to my physical and mentaldestruction with a certain degree of malignant expectation--and theywere estimable persons too. They were respectably connected--theirwords carried weight--and for a time I was an object of theirmaliciously pious fears. I was destined, according to theircalculations, to be a gambler, a spendthrift, a drunkard, an incurableroue of the most abandoned character. Yet, strange to say, I becamenone of these things. Though a Neapolitan, with all the fiery passionsand hot blood of my race, I had an innate scorn for the contemptiblevices and low desires of the unthinking vulgar. Gambling seemed to me adelirious folly--drink, a destroyer of health and reason--andlicentious extravagance an outrage on the poor. I chose my own way oflife--a middle course between simplicity and luxury--a judiciousmingling of home-like peace with the gayety of sympathetic socialintercourse--an even tenor of intelligent existence which neitherexhausted the mind nor injured the body. 

I dwelt in my father's villa--a miniature palace of white marble, situated on a wooded height overlooking the Bay of Naples. Mypleasure-grounds were fringed with fragrant groves of orange andmyrtle, where hundreds of full-voiced nightingales warbled theirlove-melodies to the golden moon. Sparkling fountains rose and fell inhuge stone basins carved with many a quaint design, and their coolmurmurous splash refreshed the burning silence of the hottest summerair. In this retreat I lived at peace for some happy years, surroundedby books and pictures, and visited frequently by friends--young menwhose tastes were more or less like my own, and who were capable ofequally appreciating the merits of an antique volume, or the flavor ofa rare vintage. 

Of women I saw little or nothing. Truth to tell, I instinctivelyavoided them. Parents with marriageable daughters invited me frequentlyto their houses, but these invitations I generally refused. My bestbooks warned me against feminine society--and I believed and acceptedthe warning. This tendency of mine exposed me to the ridicule of thoseamong my companions who were amorously inclined, but their gay jests atwhat they termed my "weakness" never affected me. I trusted infriendship rather than love, and I had a friend--one for whom at thattime I would gladly have laid down my life--one who inspired me withthe most profound attachment. He, Guido Ferrari, also joinedoccasionally with others in the good-natured mockery I brought downupon myself by my shrinking dislike of women. 

"Fie on thee, Fabio!" he would cry. "Thou wilt not taste life till thouhast sipped the nectar from a pair of rose-red lips--thou shalt notguess the riddle of the stars till thou hast gazed deep down into thefathomless glory of a maiden's eyes--thou canst not know delight tillthou hast clasped eager arms round a coy waist and heard the beating ofa passionate heart against thine own! A truce to thy musty volumes!Believe it, those ancient and sorrowful philosophers had no manhood inthem--their blood was water--and their slanders against women were butthe pettish utterances of their own deserved disappointments. Those whomiss the chief prize of life would fain persuade others that it is notworth having. What, man! Thou, with a ready wit, a glancing eye, a gaysmile, a supple form, thou wilt not enter the lists of love? What saysVoltaire of the blind god?

 "'Qui que tu sois voila ton maitre, Il fut--il est--ou il doit etre!'"

When my friend spoke thus I smiled, but answered nothing. His argumentsfailed to convince me. Yet I loved to hear him talk--his voice wasmellow as the note of a thrush, and his eyes had an eloquence greaterthan all speech. I loved him--God knows! unselfishly, sincerely--withthat rare tenderness sometimes felt by schoolboys for one another, butseldom experienced by grown men. I was happy in his society, as he, indeed, appeared to be in mine. We passed most of our time together, he, like myself, having been bereaved of his parents in early youth, and therefore left to shape out his own course of life as suited hisparticular fancy. He chose art as a profession, and, though a fairlysuccessful painter, was as poor as I was rich. I remedied this neglectof fortune for him in various ways with due forethought anddelicacy--and gave him as many commissions as I possibly could withoutrousing his suspicion or wounding his pride. For he possessed a strongattraction for me--we had much the same tastes, we shared the samesympathies, in short, I desired nothing better than his confidence andcompanionship. 

In this world no one, however harmless, is allowed to continue happy. Fate--or caprice--cannot endure to see us monotonously at rest. Something perfectly trivial--a look, a word, a touch, and lo! a longchain of old associations is broken asunder, and the peace we deemed sodeep and lasting in finally interrupted. This change came to me, assurely as it comes to all. One day--how well I remember it!--one sultryevening toward the end of May, 1881, I was in Naples. I had passed theafternoon in my yacht, idly and slowly sailing over the bay, availingmyself of what little wind there was. Guido's absence (he had gone toRome on a visit of some weeks' duration) rendered me somewhat of asolitary, and as my light craft ran into harbor, I found myself in apensive, half-uncertain mood, which brought with it its own depression. The few sailors who manned my vessel dispersed right and left as soonas they were landed--each to his own favorite haunts of pleasure ordissipation--but I was in no humor to be easily amused. Though I hadplenty of acquaintance in the city, I cared little for suchentertainment as they could offer me. As I strolled along through oneof the principal streets, considering whether or not I should return onfoot to my own dwelling on the heights, I heard a sound of singing, andperceived in the distance a glimmer of white robes. It was the Month ofMary, and I at once concluded that this must be an approachingProcession of the Virgin. Half in idleness, half in curiosity, I stoodstill and waited. The singing voices came nearer and nearer--I saw thepriests, the acolytes, the swinging gold censers heavy with fragrance, the flaring candles, the snowy veils of children and girls--and thenall suddenly the picturesque beauty of the scene danced before my eyesin a whirling blur of brilliancy and color from which looked forth--oneface! One face beaming out like a star from a cloud of ambertresses--one face of rose-tinted, childlike loveliness--a lovelinessabsolutely perfect, lighted up by two luminous eyes, large and black asnight--one face in which the small, curved mouth smiled halfprovokingly, half sweetly! I gazed and gazed again, dazzled andexcited, beauty makes such fools of us all! This was a woman--one ofthe sex I mistrusted and avoided--a woman in the earliest spring of heryouth, a girl of fifteen or sixteen at the utmost. Her veil had beenthrown back by accident or design, and for one brief moment I drank inthat soul-tempting glance, that witch-like smile! The processionpassed--the vision faded--but in that breath of time one epoch of mylife had closed forever, and another had begun!

 * * * * *

Of course I married her. We Neapolitans lose no time in such matters. We are not prudent. Unlike the calm blood of Englishmen, ours rushesswiftly through our veins--it is warm as wine and sunlight, and needsno fictitious stimulant. We love, we desire, we possess; and then? Wetire, you say? These southern races are so fickle! All wrong--we areless tired than you deem. And do not Englishmen tire? Have they nosecret ennui at times when sitting in the chimney nook of "home, sweethome, " with their fat wives and ever-spreading families? Truly, yes!But they are too cautious to say so. 

I need not relate the story of my courtship--it was brief and sweet asa song sung perfectly. There were no obstacles. The girl I sought wasthe only daughter of a ruined Florentine noble of dissolute character, who gained a bare subsistence by frequenting the gaming-tables. Hischild had been brought up in a convent renowned for strictdiscipline--she knew nothing of the world. She was, he assured me, withmaudlin tears in his eyes, "as innocent as a flower on the altar of theMadonna. " I believed him--for what could this lovely, youthful, low-voiced maiden know of even the shadow of evil? I was eager togather so fair a lily for my own proud wearing--and her father gladlygave her to me, no doubt inwardly congratulating himself on the wealthymatch that had fallen to the lot of his dowerless daughter. 

We were married at the end of June, and Guido Ferrari graced our bridalwith his handsome and gallant presence. 

"By the body of Bacchus!" he exclaimed to me when the nuptial ceremonywas over, "thou hast profited by my teaching, Fabio! A quiet rogue isoften most cunning! Thou hast rifled the casket of Venus, and stolenher fairest jewel--thou hast secured the loveliest maiden in the twoSicilies!"

I pressed his hand, and a touch of remorse stole over me, for he was nolonger first in my affection. Almost I regretted it--yes, on my verywedding-morn I looked back to the old days--old now though sorecent--and sighed to think they were ended. I glanced at Nina, mywife. It was enough! Her beauty dazzled and overcame me. The meltinglanguor of her large limpid eyes stole into my veins--I forgot all buther. I was in that high delirium of passion in which love, and loveonly, seems the keynote of creation. I touched the topmost peak of theheight of joy--the days were feasts of fairy-land, the nights dreams ofrapture! No; I never tired! My wife's beauty never palled upon me; shegrew fairer with each day of possession. I never saw her otherwise thanattractive, and within a few months she had probed all the depths of mynature. She discovered how certain sweet looks of hers could draw me toher side, a willing and devoted slave; she measured my weakness withher own power; she knew--what did she not know? I torture myself withthese foolish memories. All men past the age of twenty have learnedsomewhat of the tricks of women--the pretty playful nothings thatweaken the will and sap the force of the strongest hero. She loved me?Oh, yes, I suppose so! Looking back on those days, I can frankly say Ibelieve she loved me--as nine hundred wives out of a thousand lovetheir husbands, namely--for what they can get. And I grudged hernothing. If I chose to idolize her, and raise her to the stature of anangel when she was but on the low level of mere womanhood, that was myfolly, not her fault. 

We kept open house. Our villa was a place of rendezvous for the leadingmembers of the best society in and around Naples. My wife wasuniversally admired; her lovely face and graceful manners were themesof conversation throughout the whole neighborhood. Guido Ferrari, myfriend, was one of those who were loudest in her praise, and thechivalrous homage he displayed toward her doubly endeared him to me. Itrusted him as a brother; he came and went as pleased him; he broughtNina gifts of flowers and fanciful trifles adapted to her taste, andtreated her with fraternal and delicate kindness. I deemed my happinessperfect--with love, wealth, and friendship, what more could a mandesire?

Yet another drop of honey was added to my cup of sweetness. On thefirst morning of May, 1882, our child was born--a girl-babe, fair asone of the white anemones which at that season grew thickly in thewoods surrounding out home. They brought the little one to me in theshaded veranda where I sat at breakfast with Guido--a tiny, almostshapeless bundle, wrapped in soft cashmere and old lace. I took thefragile thing in my arms with a tender reverence; it opened its eyes;they were large and dark like Nina's, and the light of a recent heavenseemed still to linger in their pure depths. I kissed the little face;Guido did the same; and those clear, quiet eyes regarded us both with astrange half-inquiring solemnity. A bird perched on a bough of jasminebroke into a low, sweet song, the soft wind blew and scattered thepetals of a white rose at our feet. I gave the infant back to thenurse, who waited to receive it, and said, with a smile, "Tell my wifewe have welcomed her May-blossom. "

Guido laid his hand on my shoulder as the servant retired; his face wasunusually pale. 

"Thou art a good fellow, Fabio!" he said, abruptly. 

"Indeed! How so?" I asked, half laughingly; "I am no better than othermen. "

"You are less suspicious than the majority, " he returned, turning awayfrom me and playing idly with a spray of clematis that trailed on oneof the pillars of the veranda. 

I glanced at him in surprise. "What do you mean, amico? Have I reasonto suspect any one?"

He laughed and resumed his seat at the breakfast-table. 

"Why, no!" he answered, with a frank look. "But in Naples the air ispregnant with suspicion--jealousy's dagger is ever ready to strike, justly or unjustly--the very children are learned in the ways of vice. Penitents confess to priests who are worse than penitents, and byHeaven! in such a state of society, where conjugal fidelity is afarce"--he paused a moment, and then went on--"is it not wonderful toknow a man like you, Fabio? A man happy in home affections, without acloud on the sky of his confidence?"

"I have no cause for distrust, " I said. "Nina is as innocent as thelittle child of whom she is to-day the mother. "

"True!" exclaimed Ferrari. "Perfectly true!" and he looked me full inthe eyes, with a smile. "White as the virgin snow on the summit of MontBlanc--purer than the flawless diamond--and unapproachable as thefurthest star! Is it not so?"

I assented with a certain gravity; something in his manner puzzled me. Our conversation soon turned on different topics, and I thought no moreof the matter. But a time came--and that speedily--when I had sternreason to remember every word he had uttered. 

CHAPTER II. 

Every one knows what kind of summer we had in Naples in 1884. Thenewspapers of all lands teemed with the story of its horrors. Thecholera walked abroad like a destroying demon; under its witheringtouch scores of people, young and old, dropped down in the streets todie. The fell disease, born of dirt and criminal neglect of sanitaryprecautions, gained on the city with awful rapidity, and worse eventhan the plague was the unreasoning but universal panic. Thenever-to-be-forgotten heroism of King Humbert had its effect on themore educated classes, but among the low Neapolitan populace, abjectfear, vulgar superstition, and utter selfishness reigned supreme. Onecase may serve as an example of many others. A fisherman, well known inthe place, a handsome and popular young fellow, was seized, whileworking in his boat, with the first symptoms of cholera. He was carriedto his mother's house. The old woman, a villainous-looking hag, watchedthe little procession as it approached her dwelling, and taking in thesituation at once, she shut and barricaded her door. 

"Santissima Madonna!" she yelled, shrilly, through a half-openedwindow. "Leave him in the street, the abandoned, miserable one! Theungrateful pig! He would bring the plague to his own hard-working, honest mother! Holy Joseph! who would have children? Leave him in thestreet, I tell you!"

It was useless to expostulate with this feminine scarecrow; her sonwas, happily for himself, unconscious, and after some more wrangling hewas laid down on her doorstep, where he shortly afterward expired, hisbody being afterward carted away like so much rubbish by the beccamorti. 

The heat in the city was intense. The sky was a burning dome ofbrilliancy, the bay was still as a glittering sheet of glass. A thincolumn of smoke issuing from the crater of Vesuvius increased theimpression of an all-pervading, though imperceptible ring of fire, thatseemed to surround the place. No birds sung save in the late evening, when the nightingales in my gardens broke out in a bubbling torrent ofmelody, half joyous, half melancholy. Up on that wooded height where Idwelt it was comparatively cool. I took all precautions necessary toprevent the contagion from attacking our household; In fact, I wouldhave left the neighborhood altogether, had I not known that hastyflight from an infected district often carries with it the possibilityof closer contact with the disease. My wife, besides, was notnervous--I think very beautiful women seldom are. Their superb vanityis an excellent shield to repel pestilence; it does away with theprincipal element of danger--fear. As for our Stella, a toddling miteof two years old, she was a healthy child, for whom neither her mothernor myself entertained the least anxiety. 

Guido Ferrari came and stayed with us, and while the cholera, like asharp scythe put into a field of ripe corn, mowed down the dirt-lovingNeapolitans by hundreds, we three, with a small retinue of servants, none of whom were ever permitted to visit the city, lived onfarinaceous food and distilled water, bathed regularly, rose andretired early, and enjoyed the most perfect health. 

Among her many other attractions my wife was gifted with a beautifuland well-trained voice. She sung with exquisite expression, and many anevening when Guido and myself sat smoking in the garden, after littleStella had gone to bed, Nina would ravish our ears with the music ofher nightingale notes, singing song after song, quaint stornelli andritornelli--songs of the people, full of wild and passionate beauty. Inthese Guido would often join her, his full barytone chiming in with herdelicate and clear soprano as deliciously as the fall of a fountainwith the trill of a bird. I can hear those two voices now; their unitedmelody still rings mockingly in my ears; the heavy perfume oforange-blossom, mingled with myrtle, floats toward me on the air; theyellow moon burns round and full in the dense blue sky, like the Kingof Thule's goblet of gold flung into a deep sea, and again I beholdthose two heads leaning together, the one fair, the other dark; mywife, my friend--those two whose lives were a million times dearer tome than my own. Ah! they were happy days--days of self-delusion alwaysare. We are never grateful enough to the candid persons who wake usfrom our dream--yet such are in truth our best friends, could we butrealize it. 

August was the most terrible of all the summer months in Naples. Thecholera increased with frightful steadiness, and the people seemed tobe literally mad with terror. Some of them, seized with a wild spiritof defiance, plunged into orgies of vice and intemperance with areckless disregard of consequences. One of these frantic revels tookplace at a well-known cafe. Eight young men, accompanied by eight girlsof remarkable beauty, arrived, and ordered a private room, where theywere served with a sumptuous repast. At its close one of the partyraised his glass and proposed, "Success to the cholera!" The toast wasreceived with riotous shouts of applause, and all drank it withdelirious laughter. That very night every one of the revelers died inhorrible agony; their bodies, as usual, were thrust into flimsy coffinsand buried one on top of another in a hole hastily dug for the purpose. Dismal stories like these reached us every day, but we were notmorbidly impressed by them. Stella was a living charm againstpestilence; her innocent playfulness and prattle kept us amused andemployed, and surrounded us with an atmosphere that was physically andmentally wholesome. 

One morning--one of the very hottest mornings of that scorchingmonth--I woke at an earlier hour than usual. A suggestion of possiblecoolness in the air tempted me to rise and stroll through the garden. My wife slept soundly at my side. I dressed softly, without disturbingher. As I was about to leave the room some instinct made me turn backto look at her once more. How lovely she was! she smiled in her sleep!My heart beat as I gazed--she had been mine for three years--mineonly!--and my passionate admiration and love of her had increased inproportion to that length of time. I raised one of the scattered goldenlocks that lay shining like a sunbeam on the pillow, and kissed ittenderly. Then--all unconscious of my fate--I left her. 

A faint breeze greeted me as I sauntered slowly along the gardenwalks--a breath of wind scarce strong enough to flutter the leaves, yetit had a salt savor in it that was refreshing after the tropical heatof the past night. I was at that time absorbed in the study of Plato, and as I walked, my mind occupied itself with many high problems anddeep questions suggested by that great teacher. Lost in a train ofprofound yet pleasant thought, I strayed on further than I intended, and found myself at last in a by-path, long disused by our household--awinding footway leading downward in the direction of the harbor. It wasshady and cool, and I followed the road almost unconsciously, till Icaught a glimpse of masts and white sails gleaming through the leafageof the overarching trees. I was then about to retrace my steps, when Iwas startled by a sudden sound. It was a low moan of intense pain--asmothered cry that seemed to be wrung from some animal in torture. Iturned in the direction whence it came, and saw, lying face downward onthe grass, a boy--a little fruit-seller of eleven or twelve years ofage. His basket of wares stood beside him, a tempting pile of peaches, grapes, pomegranates, and melons--lovely but dangerous eating incholera times. I touched the lad on the shoulder. 

"What ails you?" I asked. He twisted himself convulsively and turnedhis face toward me--a beautiful face, though livid with anguish. 

"The plague, signor!" he moaned; "the plague! Keep away from me, forthe love of God! I am dying!"

I hesitated. For myself I had no fear. But my wife--my child--for theirsakes it was necessary to be prudent. Yet I could not leave this poorboy unassisted. I resolved to go to the harbor in search of medicalaid. With this idea in my mind I spoke cheerfully. 

"Courage, my boy, " I said; "do not lose heart! All illness is not theplague. Rest here till I return; I am going to fetch a doctor. "

The little fellow looked at me with wondering, pathetic eyes, and triedto smile. He pointed to his throat, and made an effort to speak, butvainly. Then he crouched down in the grass and writhed in torture likea hunted animal wounded to the death. I left him and walked on rapidly;reaching the harbor, where the heat was sulphurous and intense, I founda few scared-looking men standing aimlessly about, to whom I explainedthe boy's case, and appealed for assistance. They all hung back--noneof them would accompany me, not even for the gold I offered. Cursingtheir cowardice, I hurried on in search of a physician, and found oneat last, a sallow Frenchman, who listened with obvious reluctance to myaccount of the condition in which I had left the little fruit-seller, and at the end shook his head decisively, and refused to move. 

"He is as good as dead, " he observed, with cold brevity. "Better callat the house of the Miserecordia; the brethren will fetch his body. "

"What!" I cried; "you will nor try if you can save him?"

The Frenchman bowed with satirical suavity. 

"Monsieur must pardon me! My own health would be seriously endangeredby touching a cholera corpse. Allow me to wish monsieur the good-day!"

And he disappeared, shutting his door in my face. I was thoroughlyexasperated, and though the heat and the fetid odor of the sun-bakedstreets made me feel faint and sick, I forgot all danger for myself asI stood in the plague-stricken city, wondering what I should do next toobtain succor. A grave, kind voice saluted my ear. 

"You seek aid, my son?"

I looked up. A tall monk, whose cowl partly concealed his pale, butresolute features, stood at my side--one of those heroes who, for thelove of Christ, came forth at that terrible time and faced thepestilence fearlessly, where the blatant boasters of no-religionscurried away like frightened hares from the very scent of danger. Igreeted him with an obeisance, and explained my errand. 

"I will go at once, " he said, with an accent of pity in his voice. "ButI fear the worst. I have remedies with me; I may not be too late. "

"I will accompany you, " I said, eagerly. "One would not let a dog dieunaided; much less this poor lad, who seems friendless. "

The monk looked at me attentively as we walked on together. 

"You are not residing in Naples?" he asked. 

I gave him my name, which he knew by repute, and described the positionof my villa. 

"Up on that height we enjoy perfect health, " I added. "I cannotunderstand the panic that prevails in the city. The plague is fosteredby such cowardice. "

"Of course!" he answered, calmly. "But what will you? The people herelove pleasure. Their hearts are set solely on this life. When death, common to all, enters their midst, they are like babes scared by a darkshadow. Religion itself"--here he sighed deeply--"has no hold uponthem. "

"But you, my father, " I began, and stopped abruptly, conscious of asharp throbbing pain in my temples. 

"I, " he answered, gravely, "am the servant of Christ. As such, theplague has no terrors for me. Unworthy as I am, for my Master's sake Iam ready--nay, willing--to face all deaths. "

He spoke firmly, yet without arrogance. I looked at him in a certainadmiration, and was about to speak, when a curious dizziness overcameme, and I caught at his arm to save myself from falling. The streetrocked like a ship at sea, and the skies whirled round me in circles ofblue fire. The feeling slowly passed, and I heard the monk's voice, asthough it were a long way off, asking me anxiously what was the matter. I forced a smile. 

"It is the heat, I think, " I said, in feeble tones like those of a veryaged man. "I am faint--giddy. You had best leave me here--see to theboy. Oh, my God!"

This last exclamation was wrung out of me by sheer anguish. My limbsrefused to support me, and a pang, cold and bitter as though nakedsteel had been thrust through my body, caused me to sink down upon thepavement in a kind of convulsion. The tall and sinewy monk, without amoment's hesitation, dragged me up and half carried, half led me into akind of auberge, or restaurant for the poorer classes. Here he placedme in a recumbent position on one of the wooden benches, and called upthe proprietor of the place, a man to whom he seemed to be well known. Though suffering acutely I was conscious, and could hear and seeeverything that passed. 

"Attend to him well, Pietro--it is the rich Count Fabio Romani. Thouwilt not lose by thy pains. I will return within an hour. "

"The Count Romani! Santissima Madonna! He has caught the plague!"

"Thou fool!" exclaimed the monk, fiercely. "How canst thou tell? Astroke of the sun is not the plague, thou coward! See to him, or by St. Peter and the keys there shall be no place for thee in heaven!"

The trembling innkeeper looked terrified at this menace, andsubmissively approached me with pillows, which he placed under my head. The monk, meanwhile, held a glass to my lips containing some medicinalmixture, which I swallowed mechanically. 

"Rest here, my son, " he said, addressing me in soothing tones. "Thesepeople are good-natured. I will but hasten to the boy for whom yousought assistance--in less than an hour I will be with you again. "

I laid a detaining hand on his arm. 

"Stay, " I murmured, feebly, "let me know the worst. Is this the plague?"

"I hope not!" he replied, compassionately. "But what if it be? You areyoung and strong enough to fight against it without fear. "

"I have no fear, " I said. "But, father, promise me one thing--send noword of my illness to my wife--swear it! Even if I amunconscious--dead--swear that I shall not be taken to the villa. Swearit! I cannot rest till I have your word. "

"I swear it most willingly, my son, " he answered, solemnly. "By all Ihold sacred, I will respect your wishes. "

I was infinitely relieved--the safety of those I loved was assured--andI thanked him by a mute gesture. I was too weak to say more. Hedisappeared, and my brain wandered into a chaos of strange fancies. Letme try to revolve these delusions. I plainly see the interior of thecommon room where I lie. There is the timid innkeeper--he polishes hisglasses and bottles, casting ever and anon a scared glance in mydirection. Groups of men look in at the door, and, seeing me, hurryaway. I observe all this--I know where I am--yet I am also climbing thesteep passes of an Alpine gorge--the cold snow is at my feet--I hearthe rush and roar of a thousand torrents. A crimson cloud floats abovethe summit of a white glacier--it parts asunder gradually, and in itsbright center a face smiles forth! "Nina! my love, my wife, my soul!" Icry aloud. I stretch out my arms--I clasp her!--bah! it is this goodrogue of an innkeeper who holds me in his musty embrace! I strugglewith him fiercely--pantingly. 

"Fool!" I shriek in his ear. "Let me go to her--her lips pout forkisses--let me go!"

Another man advances and seizes me; he and the innkeeper force me backon the pillows--they overcome me, and the utter incapacity of aterrible exhaustion steals away my strength. I cease to struggle. Pietro and his assistant look down upon me. 

"E morto!" they whisper one to the other. 

I hear them and smile. Dead? Not I! The scorching sunlight streamsthrough the open door of the inn--the thirsty flies buzz withpersistent loudness--some voices are singing "La Fata di Amalfi"--I candistinguish the words--

 "Chiagnaro la mia sventura Si non tuorne chiu, Rosella! Tu d' Amalfi la chiu bella, Tu na Fata si pe me! Viene, vie, regina mie, Viene curre a chisto core, Ca non c'e non c'e sciore, Non c'e Stella comm'a te!" [Footnote: A popular song in the Neapolitan dialect. ]

That is a true song, Nina mia! "Non c'e Stella comm' a te!" What didGuido say? "Purer than the flawless diamond--unapproachable as thefurthest star!" That foolish Pietro still polishes his wine-bottles. Isee him--his meek round face is greasy with heat and dust; but I cannotunderstand how he comes to be here at all, for I am on the banks of atropical river where huge palms grow wild, and drowsy alligators lieasleep in the sun. Their large jaws are open--their small eyes glittergreenly. A light boat glides over the silent water--in it I behold theerect lithe figure of an Indian. His features are strangely similar tothose of Guido. He draws a long thin shining blade of steel as heapproaches. Brave fellow!--he means to attack single-handed the cruelcreatures who lie in wait for him on the sultry shore. He springs toland--I watch him with a weird fascination. He passes thealligators--he seems not to be aware of their presence--he comes withswift, unhesitating step to ME--it is I whom he seeks--it is in MYheart that he plunges the cold steel dagger, and draws it out againdripping with blood! Once--twice--thrice!--and yet I cannot die! Iwrithe--I moan in bitter anguish! Then something dark comes between meand the glaring sun--something cool and shadowy, against which I flingmyself despairingly. Two dark eyes look steadily into mine, and a voicespeaks:

"Be calm, my son, be calm. Commend thyself to Christ!"

It is my friend the monk. I recognize him gladly. He has returned fromhis errand of mercy. Though I can scarcely speak, I hear myself askingfor news of the boy. The holy man crosses himself devoutly. 

"May his young soul rest in peace! I found him dead. "

I am dreamily astonished at this. Dead--so soon! I cannot understandit; and I drift off again into a state of confused imaginings. As Ilook back now to that time, I find I have no specially distinctrecollection of what afterward happened to me. I know I sufferedintense, intolerable pain--that I was literally tortured on a rack ofexcruciating anguish--and that through all the delirium of my senses Iheard a muffled, melancholy sound like a chant or prayer. I have anidea that I also heard the tinkle of the bell that accompanies theHost, but my brain reeled more wildly with each moment, and I cannot becertain of this. I remember shrieking out after what seemed an eternityof pain, "Not to the villa! no, no, not there! You shall not takeme--my curse on him who disobeys me!"

I remember then a fearful sensation, as of being dragged into a deepwhirlpool, from whence I stretched up appealing hands and eyes to themonk who stood above me--I caught a drowning glimpse of a silvercrucifix glittering before my gaze, and at last, with one loud cry forhelp, I sunk--down--down! into an abyss of black night and nothingness!

CHAPTER III. 

There followed a long drowsy time of stillness and shadow. I seemed tohave fallen in some deep well of delicious oblivion and obscurity. Dream-like images still flitted before my fancy--these were at firstundefinable, but after awhile they took more certain shapes. Strangefluttering creatures hovered about me--lonely eyes stared at me from avisible deep gloom; long white bony fingers grasping at nothing madesigns to me of warning or menace. Then--very gradually, there dawnedupon my sense of vision a cloudy red mist like a stormy sunset, andfrom the middle of the blood-like haze a huge black hand descendedtoward me. It pounced upon my chest--it grasped my throat in itsmonstrous clutch, and held me down with a weight of iron. I struggledviolently--I strove to cry out, but that terrific pressure took from meall power of utterance. I twisted myself to right and left in anendeavor to escape--but my tyrant of the sable hand had bound me in onall sides. Yet I continued to wrestle with the cruel opposing forcethat strove to overwhelm me--little by little--inch by inch--so! Atlast! One more struggle--victory! I woke! Merciful God! Where was I? Inwhat horrible atmosphere--in what dense darkness? Slowly, as my sensesreturned to me, I remembered my recent illness. The monk--the manPietro--where were they? What had they done to me? By degrees, Irealized that I was lying straight down upon my back--the couch wassurely very hard? Why had they taken the pillows from under my head? Apricking sensation darted through my veins--I felt my own handscuriously--they were warm, and my pulse beat strongly, though fitfully. But what was this that hindered my breathing? Air--air! I must haveair! I put up my hands--horror! They struck against a hard opposingsubstance above me. Quick as lightning then the truth flashed upon mymind! I had been buried--buried alive; this wooden prison that inclosedme was a coffin! A frenzy surpassing that of an infuriated tiger tookswift possession of me--with hands and nails I tore and scratched atthe accursed boards--with all the force of my shoulders and arms Itoiled to wrench open the closed lid! My efforts were fruitless! I grewmore ferociously mad with rage and terror. How easy were all deathscompared to one like this! I was suffocating--I felt my eyes start fromtheir sockets--blood sprung from my mouth and nostrils--and icy dropsof sweat trickled from my forehead. I paused, gasping for breath. Then, suddenly nerving myself for one more wild effort, I hurled my limbswith all the force of agony and desperation against one side of mynarrow prison. It cracked--it split asunder!--and then--a new andhorrid fear beset me, and I crouched back, panting heavily. If--if Iwere buried in the ground--so ran my ghastly thoughts--of what use tobreak open the coffin and let in the mold--the damp wormy mold, richwith the bones of the dead--the penetrating mold that would choke up mymouth and eyes, and seal me into silence forever! My mind quailed atthis idea--my brain tottered on the verge of madness! I laughed--thinkof it!--and my laugh sounded in my ears like the last rattle in thethroat of a dying man. But I could breathe more easily--even in thestupefaction of my fears--I was conscious of air. Yes!--the blessed airhad rushed in somehow. Revived and encouraged as I recognized thisfact, I felt with both hands till I found the crevice I had made, andthen with frantic haste and strength I pulled and dragged at the wood, till suddenly the whole side of the coffin gave way, and I was able toforce up the lid. I stretched out my arms--no weight of earth impededtheir movements--I felt nothing but air--empty air. Yielding to myfirst strong impulse, I leaped out of the hateful box, and fell--fellsome little distance, bruising my hands and knees on what seemed to bea stone pavement. Something weighty fell also, with a dull crashingthud close to me. The darkness was impenetrable. But there wasbreathing room, and the atmosphere was cool and refreshing. With somepain and difficulty I raised myself to a sitting position where I hadfallen. My limbs were stiff and cramped as well as wounded, and Ishivered as with strong ague. But my senses were clear--the tangledchain of my disordered thoughts became even and connected--my previousmad excitement gradually calmed, and I began to consider my condition. I had certainly been buried alive--there was no doubt of that. Intensepain had, I suppose, resolved itself into a long trance ofunconsciousness--the people of the inn where I had been taken ill hadat once believed me to be dead of cholera, and with the panic-stricken, indecent haste common in all Italy, especially at a time of plague, hadthrust me into one of those flimsy coffins which were then beingmanufactured by scores in Naples--mere shells of thin deal, nailedtogether with clumsy hurry and fear. But how I blessed their wretchedconstruction! Had I been laid in a stronger casket, who knows if eventhe most desperate frenzy of my strength might not have provedunavailing! I shuddered at the thought. Yet the questionremained--Where was I? I reviewed my case from all points, and for sometime could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion. Stay, though! Iremembered that I had told the monk my name; he knew that I was theonly descendant of the rich Romani family. What followed? Why, naturally, the good father had only done what his duty called upon himto do. He had seen me laid in the vault of my ancestors--the greatRomani vault that had never been opened since my father's body wascarried to its last resting-place with all the solemn pomp andmagnificence of a wealthy nobleman's funeral obsequies. The more Ithought of this the more probable it seemed. The Romani vault! Itsforbidding gloom had terrified me as a lad when I followed my father'scoffin to the stone niche assigned to it, and I had turned my eyes awayin shuddering pain when I was told to look at the heavy oaken caskethung with tattered velvet and ornamented with tarnished silver, whichcontained all that was left of my mother, who died young. I had feltsick and faint and cold, and had only recovered myself when I stood outagain in the free air with the blue dome of heaven high above me. Andnow I was shut in the same vault--a prisoner--with what hope of escape?I reflected. The entrance to the vault, I remembered, was barred by aheavy door of closely twisted iron--from thence a flight of steep stepsled downward--downward to where in all probability I now was. Suppose Icould in the dense darkness feel my way to those steps and climb up tothat door--of what avail? It was locked--nay, barred--and as it wassituated in a remote part of the burial-ground, there was no likelihoodof even the keeper of the cemetery passing by it for days--perhaps notfor weeks. Then must I starve? Or die of thirst? Tortured by theseimaginings, I rose up from the pavement and stood erect. My feet werebare, and the cold stone on which I stood chilled me to the marrow. Itwas fortunate for me, I thought, that they had buried me as a choleracorpse--they had left me half-clothed for fear of infection. That is, Ihad my flannel shirt on and my usual walking trousers. Something therewas, too, round my neck; I felt it, and as I did so a flood of sweetand sorrowful memories rushed over me. It was a slight gold chain, andon it hung a locket containing the portraits of my wife and child. Idrew it out in the darkness; I covered it with passionate kisses andtears--the first I had shed since my death--like trance-tears scaldingand bitter welled into my eyes. Life was worth living while Nina'ssmile lightened the world! I resolved to fight for existence, no matterwhat dire horrors should be yet in store for me. Nina--my love--mybeautiful one! Her face gleamed out upon me in the pestilent gloom ofthe charnel-house; her eyes beckoned me--her young faithful eyes thatwere now, I felt sure, drowned in weeping for my supposed death. Iseemed to see my tender-hearted darling sobbing alone in the emptysilence of the room that had witnessed a thousand embraces betweenherself and me; her lovely hair disheveled; her sweet face pale andhaggard with the bitterness of grief! Baby Stella, too, no doubt shewould wonder, poor innocent! why I did not come to swing her as usualunder the orange boughs. And Guido--brave and true friend! I thought ofhim with tenderness. I felt I knew how deep and lasting would be hishonest regret for my loss. Oh, I would leave no means of escapeuntried; I would find some way out of this grim vault! How overjoyedthey would all be to see me again--to know that I was not dead afterall! What a welcome I should receive! How Nina would nestle into myarms; how my little child would cling to me; how Guido would clasp meby the hand! I smiled as I pictured the scene of rejoicing at the dearold villa--the happy home sanctified by perfect friendship and faithfullove!

A deep hollow sound booming suddenly on my ears startled me--one! two!three! I counted the strokes up to twelve. It was some church belltolling the hour. My pleasing fancies dispersed--I again faced thedrear reality of my position. Twelve o'clock! Midday or midnight? Icould not tell. I began to calculate. It was early morning when I hadbeen taken ill--not much past eight when I had met the monk and soughthis assistance for the poor little fruit-seller who had after allperished alone in his sufferings. Now supposing my illness had lastedsome hours, I might have fallen into a trance--died--as those around mehad thought, somewhere about noon. In that case they would certainlyhave buried me with as little delay as possible--before sunset at allevents. Thinking these points over one by one, I came to the conclusionthat the bell I had just heard must have struck midnight--the midnightof the very day of my burial. I shivered; a kind of nervous dread stoleover me. I have always been physically courageous, but at the sametime, in spite of my education, I am somewhat superstitious--whatNeapolitan is not? it runs in the southern blood. And there wassomething unutterably fearful in the sound of that midnight bellclanging harshly on the ears of a man pent up alive in a funeral vaultwith the decaying bodies of his ancestors close within reach of hishand! I tried to conquer my feelings--to summon up my fortitude. Iendeavored to reason out the best method of escape. I resolved to feelmy way, if possible, to the steps of the vault, and with this idea inmy mind I put out my hands and began to move along slowly and with theutmost care. What was that? I stopped; I listened; the blood curdled inmy veins! A shrill cry, piercing, prolonged, and melancholy, echoedthrough the hollow arches of my tomb. A cold perspiration broke out allover my body--my heart beat so loudly that I could hear it thumpingagainst my ribs. Again--again--that weird shriek, followed by a whirand flap of wings. I breathed again. 

"It is an owl, " I said to myself, ashamed of my fears; "a poor innocentbird--a companion and watcher of the dead, and therefore its voice isfull of sorrowful lamentation--but it is harmless, " and I crept on withincreased caution. Suddenly out of the dense darkness there stared twolarge yellow eyes, glittering with fiendish hunger and cruelty. For amoment I was startled, and stepped back; the creature flew at me withthe ferocity of a tiger-cat! I fought with the horrible thing in alldirections; it wheeled round my head, it pounced toward my face, itbeat me with its large wings--wings that I could feel but not see; theyellow eyes alone shone in the thick gloom like the eyes of somevindictive demon! I struck at it right and left--the revolting combatlasted some moments--I grew sick and dizzy, yet I battled onrecklessly. At last, thank Heaven! the huge owl was vanquished; itfluttered backward and downward, apparently exhausted, giving one wildscreech of baffled fury, as its lamp-like eyes disappeared in thedarkness. Breathless, but not subdued--every nerve in my body quiveringwith excitement--I pursued my way, as I thought, toward the stonestaircase feeling the air with my outstretched hands as I groped along. In a little while I met with an obstruction--it was hard and cold--astone wall, surely? I felt it up and down and found a hollow in it--wasthis the first step of the stair? I wondered; it seemed very high. Itouched it cautiously--suddenly I came in contact with something softand clammy to the touch like moss or wet velvet. Fingering this with akind of repulsion, I soon traced out the oblong shape of a coffinCuriously enough, I was not affected much by the discovery. I foundmyself monotonously counting the bits of raised metal which served, asI judged, for its ornamentation. Eight bits lengthwise--and the softwet stuff between--four bits across; then a pang shot through me, and Idrew my hand away quickly, as I considered--WHOSE coffin was this? Myfather's? Or was I thus plucking, like a man in delirium, at thefragments of velvet on that cumbrous oaken casket wherein lay thesacred ashes of my mother's perished beauty? I roused myself from theapathy into which I had fallen. All the pains I had taken to find myway through the vault were wasted; I was lost in the profound gloom, and knew not where to turn. The horror of my situation presented itselfto me with redoubled force. I began to be tormented with thirst. I fellon my knees and groaned aloud. 

"God of infinite mercy!" I cried. "Saviour of the world! By the soulsof the sacred dead whom Thou hast in Thy holy keeping, have pity uponme! Oh, my mother! if indeed thine earthly remains are near me--thinkof me, sweet angel in that heaven where thy spirit dwells atrest--plead for me and save me, or let me die now and be tortured nomore!"

I uttered these words aloud, and the sound of my wailing voice ringingthrough the somber arches of the vault was strange and full offantastic terror to my own ears. I knew that were my agony much furtherprolonged I should go mad. And I dared not picture to myself thefrightful things which a maniac might be capable of, shut up in such aplace of death and darkness, with moldering corpses for companions! Iremained on my knees, my face buried in my hands. I forced myself intocomparative calmness, and strove to preserve the equilibrium of mydistracted mind. Hush! What exquisite far-off floating voice of cheerwas that? I raised my head and listened, entranced!

"Jug, jug, Jug! lodola, lodola! trill-lil-lil! sweet, sweet, sweet!"

It was a nightingale. Familiar, delicious, angel-throated bird! How Iblessed thee in that dark hour of despair! How I praised God for thineinnocent existence! How I sprung up and laughed and wept for joy, as, all unconscious of me, thou didst shake out a shower of pearlywarblings on the breast of the soothed air! Heavenly messenger ofconsolation!--even now I think of thee with tenderness--for thy sweetsake all birds possess me as their worshiper; humanity has grownhideous in my sight, but the singing-life of the woods and hills--howpure, how fresh!--the nearest thing to happiness on this side heaven!

A rush of strength and courage invigorated me. A new idea entered mybrain. I determined to follow the voice of the nightingale. It sung onsweetly, encouragingly--and I began afresh my journeyings through thedarkness. I fancied that the bird was perched on one of the treesoutside the entrance of the vault, and that if I tried to get withincloser hearing of its voice, I should most likely be thus guided to thevery staircase I had been so painfully seeking. I stumbled alongslowly. I felt feeble, and my limbs shook under me. This time nothingimpeded my progress; the nightingale's liquid notes floated nearer andnearer, and hope, almost exhausted, sprung up again in my heart. I wasscarcely conscious of my own movements. I seemed to be drawn along likeone in a dream by the golden thread of the bird's sweet singing. All atonce I caught my foot against a stone and fell forward with some force, but I felt no pain--my limbs were too numb to be sensible of any freshsuffering. I raised my heavy, aching eyes in the darkness; as I did soI uttered an exclamation of thanksgiving. A slender stream ofmoonlight, no thicker than the stem of an arrow, slanted downwardtoward me, and showed me that I had at last reached the spot Isought--in fact, I had fallen upon the lowest step of the stonestairway. I could not distinguish the entrance door of the vault, but Iknew that it must be at the summit of the steep ascent. I was too wearyto move further just then. I lay still where I was, staring at thesolitary moon-ray, and listening to the nightingale, whose rapturousmelodies now rang out upon my ears with full distinctness. ONE! Theharsh-toned bell I had heard before clanged forth the hour. It wouldsoon be morning; I resolved to rest till then. Utterly worn out in bodyand mind, I laid down my head upon the cold stones as readily as ifthey had been the softest cushions, and in a few moments forgot all mymiseries in a profound sleep. 

 * * * * *

I must have slumbered for some time, when I was suddenly awakened by asuffocating sensation of faintness and nausea, accompanied by a sharppain on my neck as though some creatures were stinging me. I put myhand up to the place--God! shall I ever forget the feel of the THING mytrembling fingers closed upon! It was fastened in my flesh--a winged, clammy, breathing horror! It clung to me with a loathly persistencythat nearly drove me frantic, and wild with disgust and terror Iscreamed aloud! I closed both hands convulsively upon its fat, softbody--I literally tore it from my flesh and flung it as far back as Icould into the interior blackness of the vault. For a time I believe Iwas indeed mad--the echoes rang with the piercing shrieks I could notrestrain! Silent at last through sneer exhaustion I glared about me. The moonbeam had vanished, in its place lay a shaft of pale gray light, by which I could easily distinguish the whole length of the staircaseand the closed gateway it its summit. I rushed up the ascent with thefeverish haste of a madman--I grasped the iron grating with both handsand shook it fiercely It was firm as a rock, locked fast. I called forhelp. Utter silence answered me. I peered through the closely twistedbars. I saw the grass, the drooping boughs of trees, and straightbefore my line of vision a little piece of the blessed sky, opal tintedand faintly blushing with the consciousness of the approaching sunriseI drank in the sweet fresh air, a long trailing branch of the wildgrape vine hung near me; its leaves were covered thickly with dew. Isqueezed one hand through the grating and gathered a few of these greenmorsels of coolness--I ate them greedily. They seemed to me moredelicious than any thing I had ever tasted, they relieved the burningfever of my parched throat and tongue. The glimpse of the trees and skysoothed and calmed me. There was a gentle twittering of awaking birds, my nightingale had ceased singing. 

I began to recover slowly from my nervous terrors, and leaning againstthe gloomy arch of my charnel house I took courage to glance backwarddown the steep stairway up which I had sprung with such furiousprecipitation. Something white lay in a corner on the seventh step fromthe top. Curious to see what it was, I descended cautiously and withsome reluctance; it was the half of a thick waxen taper, such as areused in the Catholic ritual at the burial of the dead. No doubt it hadbeen thrown down there by some careless acolyte, to save himself thetrouble of carrying it after the service had ended. I looked at itmeditatively. If I only had a light! I plunged my hands halfabstractedly into the pockets of my trousers--something jingled! Trulythey had buried me in haste. My purse, a small bunch of keys, mycard-case--one by one I drew them out and examined themsurprisedly--they looked so familiar, and withal so strange! I searchedagain; and this time found something of real value to one in mycondition--a small box of wax vestas. Now, had they left me mycigar-case? No, that was gone. It was a valuable silver one--no doubtthe monk, who attended my supposed last moments, had taken it, togetherwith my watch and chain, to my wife. 

Well, I could not smoke, but I could strike a light. And there was thefuneral taper ready for use. The sun had not yet risen. I mustcertainly wait till broad day before I could hope to attract by myshouts any stray person who might pass through the cemetery. Meanwhile, a fantastic idea suggested itself. I would go and look at my owncoffin! Why not? It would be a novel experience. The sense of fear hadentirely deserted me; the possession of that box of matches wassufficient to endow me with absolute hardihood. I picked up thechurch-candle and lighted it; it gave at first a feeble flicker, butafterward burned with a clear and steady flame. Shading it with onehand from the draught, I gave a parting glance at the fair daylightthat peeped smilingly in through my prison door, and then wentdown--down again into the dismal place where I had passed the night insuch indescribable agony. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Numbers of lizards glided away from my feet as I descended the steps, and when the flare of my torch penetrated the darkness I heard ascurrying of wings mingled with various hissing sounds and wild cries. I knew now--none better--what weird and abominable things hadhabitation in this storehouse of the dead, but I felt I could defy themall, armed with the light I carried. The way that had seemed so long inthe dense gloom was brief and easy, and I soon found myself at thescene of my unexpected awakening from sleep. The actual body of thevault was square-shaped, like a small room inclosed within highwalls--walls which were scooped out in various places so as to formniches in which the narrow caskets containing the bones of all thedeparted members of the Romani family were placed one above the otherlike so many bales of goods arranged evenly on the shelves of anordinary warehouse. I held the candle high above my head and lookedabout me with a morbid interest. I soon perceived what I sought--my owncoffin. 

There it was in a niche some five feet from the ground, its splinteredportions bearing decided witness to the dreadful struggle I had made toobtain my freedom. I advanced and examined it closely. It was a frailshell enough--unlined, unornamented--a wretched sample of theundertaker's art, though God knows _I_ had no fault to find with itsworkmanship, nor with the haste of him who fashioned it. Somethingshone at the bottom of it--it was a crucifix of ebony and silver. Thatgood monk again! His conscience had not allowed him to see me buriedwithout this sacred symbol; he had perhaps laid it on my breast as thelast service he could render me; it had fallen from thence, no doubt, when I had wrenched my way through the boards that inclosed me. I tookit and kissed it reverently--I resolved that if ever I met the holyfather again, I would tell him my story, and, as a proof of its truth, restore to him this cross, which he would be sure to recognize. Hadthey put my name on the coffin-lid? I wondered. Yes, there itwas--painted on the wood in coarse, black letters, "FABIO ROMANI"--thenfollowed the date of my birth; then a short Latin inscription, statingthat I had died of cholera on August 15, 1884. That was yesterday--onlyyesterday! I seemed to have lived a century since then. 

I turned to look at my father's resting-place. The velvet on his coffinhung from its sides in moldering remnants--but it was not so utterlydamp-destroyed and worm-eaten as the soaked and indistinguishablematerial that still clung to the massive oaken chest in the next niche, where SHE lay--she from whose tender arms I had received my firstembrace--she in whose loving eyes I had first beheld the world! I knewby a sort of instinct that it must have been with the frayed fragmentson her coffin that my fingers had idly played in the darkness. Icounted as before the bits of metal--eight bits length-wise, and fourbits across--and on my father's close casket there were ten silverplates lengthwise and five across. My poor little mother! I thought ofher picture--it hung in my library at home; the picture of a young, smiling, dark-haired beauty, whose delicate tint was as that of a peachripening in the summer sun. All that loveliness had decayed into--what?I shuddered involuntarily--then I knelt humbly before those two sadhollows in the cold stone, and implored the blessing of the dead andgone beloved ones to whom, while they lived, my welfare had been dear. While I occupied this kneeling position the flame of my torch felldirectly on some small object that glittered with remarkable luster. Iwent to examine it; it was a jeweled pendant composed of one largepear-shaped pearl, set round with fine rose brilliants! Surprised atthis discovery, I looked about to see where such a valuable gem couldpossible have come from I then noticed an unusually large coffin lyingsideways on the ground; it appeared as if it had fallen suddenly andwith force, for a number of loose stones and mortar were sprinkled nearit. Holding the light close to the ground, I observed that a nicheexactly below the one in which _I_ had been laid was empty, and that aconsiderable portion of the wall there was broken away. I thenremembered that when I had sprung so desperately out of my narrow box Ihad heard something fall with a crash beside me, This was the thing, then--this long coffin, big enough to contain a man seven feet high andbroad in proportion. What gigantic ancestor had I irreverentlydislodged?--and was it from a skeleton throat that the rare jewel whichI held in my hand had been accidentally shaken?

My curiosity was excited, and I bent close to examine the lid of thisfuneral chest. There was no name on it--no mark of any sort, saveone--a dagger roughly painted in red. Here was a mystery! I resolved topenetrate it. I set up my candle in a little crevice of one of theempty niches, and laid the pearl and diamond pendant beside it, thusdisembarrassing myself of all incumbrance. The huge coffin lay on itsside, as I have said; its uppermost corner was splintered; I appliedboth hands to the work of breaking further asunder these already splitportions. As I did so a leathern pouch or bag rolled out and fell at myfeet. I picked it up and opened it--it was full of gold pieces! Moreexcited than ever, I seized a large pointed stone, and by the aid ofthis extemporized instrument, together with the force of my own arms, hands, and feet, I managed, after some ten minutes' hard labor, tobreak open the mysterious casket. 

When I had accomplished this deed I stared at the result like a manstupefied. No moldering horror met my gaze--no blanched or decayingbones; no grinning skull mocked me with its hollow eye-sockets. Ilooked upon a treasure worthy of an emperor's envy! The big coffin wasliterally lined and packed with incalculable wealth. Fifty largeleathern bags tied with coarse cord lay uppermost; more than half ofthese were crammed with gold coins, the rest were full of pricelessgems--necklaces, tiaras, bracelets, watches, chains, and other articlesof feminine adornment were mingled with loose preciousstones--diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and opals, some of unusual size andluster, some uncut, and some all ready for the jeweler's setting. Beneath these bags were packed a number of pieces of silk, velvet, andcloth of gold, each piece being wrapped by itself in a sort ofoil-skin, strongly perfumed with camphor and other spices. There werealso three lengths of old lace, fine as gossamer, of matchless artisticdesign, in perfect condition. Among these materials lay two large traysof solid gold workmanship, most exquisitely engraved and ornamented, also four gold drinking-cups, of quaint and massive construction. Othervaluables and curious trifles there were, such as an ivory statuette ofPsyche on a silver pedestal, a waistband of coins linked together, apainted fan with a handle set in amber and turquois, a fine steeldagger in a jeweled sheath, and a mirror framed in old pearls. Last, but not least, at the very bottom of the chest lay rolls upon rolls ofpaper money amounting to some millions of francs--in all far surpassingwhat I had myself formerly enjoyed from my own revenues. I plunged myhands deep in the leathern bags; I fingered the rich materials; allthis treasure was mine! I had found it in my own burial vault! I hadsurely the right to consider it as my property? I began toconsider--how could it have been placed there without my knowledge? Theanswer to this question occurred to me at once. Brigands! Ofcourse!--what a fool I was not to have thought of them before; thedagger painted on the lid of the chest should have guided me to thesolution of the mystery. A red dagger was the recognized sign-manual ofa bold and dangerous brigand named Carmelo Neri, who, with his recklessgang, haunted the vicinity of Palermo. 

"So!" I thought, "this is one of your bright ideas, my cut-throatCarmelo! Cunning rogue! you calculated well--you thought that nonewould disturb the dead, much less break open a coffin in search ofgold. Admirably planned, my Carmelo! But this time you must play alosing game! A supposed dead man coming to life again deservessomething for his trouble, and I should be a fool not to accept thegoods the gods and the robbers provide. An ill-gotten hoard of wealth, no doubt; but better in my hands than in yours friend Carmelo!"

And I meditated for some minutes on this strange affair If, indeed--andI saw no reason to doubt it--I had chanced to find some of the spoilsof the redoubtable Neri, this great chest must have been brought overby sea from Palermo. Probably four stout rascals had carried thesupposed coffin in a mock solemn procession, under the pretense of itscontaining the body of a comrade. These thieves have a high sense ofhumor. Yet the question remained to be solved--How had they gainedaccess to MY ancestral vault, unless by means of a false key? All atonce I was left in darkness, My candle went out as though blown upon bya gust of air. I had my matches, and of course could easily light itagain, but I was puzzled to imagine the cause of its sudden extinction. I looked about me in the temporary gloom and saw, to my surprise, a rayof light proceeding from a corner of the very niche where I had fixedthe candle between two stones. I approached and put my hand to theplace; a strong draught blew through a hole large enough to admit thepassage of three fingers. I quickly relighted my torch, and examiningthis hole and the back of the niche attentively, found that four blocksof granite in the wall had been removed and their places supplied bythick square logs cut from the trunks of trees. These logs were quiteloosely fitted. I took them out easily one by one, and then came upon aclose pile of brushwood. As I gradually cleared this away a largeaperture disclosed itself wide enough for any man to pass throughwithout trouble. My heart beat with the rapture of expected liberty; Iclambered up--I looked--thank God! I saw the landscape--the sky! In twominutes I stood outside the vault on the soft grass, with the high archof heaven above me, and the broad Bay of Naples glittering deliciouslybefore my eyes! I clapped my hands and shouted for pure joy! I wasfree! Free to return to life, to love, to the arms of my beautifulNina--free to resume the pleasant course of existence on the gladsomeearth--free to forget, if I could, the gloomy horrors of my prematureburial. If Carmelo Neri had heard the blessings I heaped upon hishead--he would for once have deemed himself a saint rather than abrigand. What did I not owe to the glorious ruffian! Fortune andfreedom! for it was evident that this secret passage into the Romanivault had been cunningly contrived by himself or his followers fortheir own private purposes. Seldom has any man been more grateful tohis best benefactor than I was to the famous thief upon whose grimhead, as I knew, a price had been set for many months. The poor wretchwas in hiding. Well! the authorities should get no aid from me, Iresolved; even if I were to discover his whereabouts. Why should Ibetray him? He had unconsciously done more for me than my best friend. Nay, what friends will you find at all in the world when you needsubstantial good? Few, or none. Touch the purse--test the heart!

What castles in the air I built as I stood rejoicing in the morninglight and my newly acquired liberty--what dreams of perfect happinessflitted radiantly before my fancy! Nina and I would love each othermore fondly than before, I thought--our separation had been brief, butterrible--and the idea of what it might have been would endear us toone another with tenfold fervor. And little Stella! Why--this veryevening I would swing her again under the orange boughs and listen toher sweet shrill laughter! This very evening I would clasp Guido's handin a gladness too great for words! This very night my wife's fair headwould lie pillowed on my breast in an ecstatic silence broken only bythe music of kisses. Ah! my brain grew dizzy with the joyful visionsthat crowded thickly and dazzlingly upon me! The sun had risen--hislong straight beams, like golden spears, touched the tops of the greentrees, and roused little flashes as of red and blue fire on the shiningsurface of the bay. I heard the rippling of water and the measured softdash of oars; and somewhere from a distant boat the mellifluous voiceof a sailor sung a verse of the popular ritornello--

 "Sciore d'amenta Sta parolella mia tieul' ammento Zompa llari llira! Sciore limone! Le voglio fa mori de passione Zompa llari llira!" [Footnote: Neapolitan dialect]

I smiled--"Mori de passione!" Nina and I would know the meaning ofthose sweet words when the moon rose and the nightingales sung theirlove-songs to the dreaming flowers! Full of these happy fancies, Iinhaled the pure morning air for some minutes, and then re-entered thevault. 

CHAPTER V. 

The first thing I did was to repack all the treasures I had discovered. This work was easily accomplished. For the present I contented myselfwith taking two of the leathern bags for my own use, one full of goldpieces, the other of jewels. The chest had been strongly made, and wasnot much injured by being forced open. I closed its lid as tightly aspossible, and dragged it to a remote and dark corner of the vault, where I placed three heavy stones upon it. I then took the two leathernpouches I had selected, and stuffed one in each of the pockets of mytrousers. The action reminded me of the scantiness of attire in which Istood arrayed. Could I be seen in the public roads in such a plight? Iexamined my purse, which, as I before stated, had been left to me, together with my keys and card-case, by the terrified persons who hadhuddled me into my coffin with such scant ceremony. It contained twotwenty-franc pieces and some loose silver. Enough to buy a decentcostume of some sort. But where could I make the purchase, and how?Must I wait till evening and slink out of this charnel-house like theghost of a wretched criminal? No! come what would, I made up my mindnot to linger a moment longer in the vault. The swarms of beggars thatinfest Naples exhibit themselves in every condition of rags, dirt, andmisery; at the very worst I could only be taken for one of them. Andwhatever difficulties I might encounter, no matter!--they would soon beover. 

Satisfied that I had placed the brigand coffin in a safe position, Isecured the pearl and diamond pendant I had first found, to the chainround my neck. I intended this ornament as a gift for my wife. Then, once more climbing through the aperture, I closed it completely withthe logs and brushwood as it was before, and examining it narrowly fromthe outside, I saw that it was utterly impossible to discern thesmallest hint of any entrance to a subterranean passage, so well andcunningly had it been contrived. Now, nothing more remained for me todo but to make the best of my way to the city, there to declare myidentity, obtain food and clothes, and then to hasten with all possiblespeed to my own residence. 

Standing on a little hillock, I looked about me to see which directionI should take. The cemetery was situated on the outskirts ofNaples--Naples itself lay on my left hand. I perceived a sloping roadwinding in that direction, and judged that if I followed it it wouldlead me to the city suburbs. Without further hesitation I commenced mywalk. It was now full day. My bare feet sunk deep in the dust that washot as desert sand--the blazing sun beat down fiercely on my uncoveredhead, but I felt none of these discomforts; my heart was too full ofgladness. I could have sung aloud for delight as I stepped swiftlyalong toward home--and Nina! I was aware of a great weakness in mylimbs--my eyes and head ached with the strong dazzling light;occasionally, too, an icy shiver ran through me that made my teethchatter. But I recognized these symptoms as the after effects of my sonearly fatal illness, and I paid no heed to them. A few weeks' restunder my wife's loving care, and I knew I should be as well as ever. Istepped on bravely. For some time I met no one, but at last I overtooka small cart laden with freshly gathered grapes. The driver lay on hisseat asleep; his pony meanwhile cropped the green herbage by theroadside, and every now and then shook the jingling bells on hisharness as though expressing the satisfaction he felt at being left tohis own devices. The piled-up grapes looked tempting, and I was bothhungry and thirsty, I laid a hand on the sleeping man's shoulder; heawoke with a start. Seeing me, his face assumed an expression of thewildest terror; he jumped from his cart and sunk down on his knees inthe dust, imploring me by the Madonna, St. Joseph, and all the saintsto spare his life. I laughed; his fears seemed to me ludicrous. Surelythere was nothing alarming about me beyond my paucity of clothing. 

"Get up, man!" I said. "I want nothing of you but a few grapes, and forthem I will pay. " And I held out to him a couple of francs. He rosefrom the dust, still trembling and eying me askance with evidentsuspicion, took several bunches of the purple fruit, and gave them tome without saying a word. Then, pocketing the money I proffered, hesprung into his cart, and lashing his pony till the unfortunate animalplunged and reared with pain and fury, rattled off down the road atsuch a break-neck speed that I saw nothing but a whirling blot ofwheels disappearing in the distance. I was amused at the absurdity ofthis man's terror. What did he take me for, I wondered? A ghost or abrigand? I ate my grapes leisurely as I walked along--they weredeliciously cool and refreshing--food and wine in one. I met severalother persons as I neared the city, market people and venders ofices--but they took no note of me--in fact, I avoided them all as muchas possible. On reaching the suburbs I turned into the first street Isaw that seemed likely to contain a few shops. It was close and darkand foul-smelling, but I had not gone far down it when I came upon thesort of place I sought--a wretched tumble-down hovel, with a partlybroken window, through which a shabby array of second-hand garmentswere to be dimly perceived, strung up for show on pieces of coarsetwine. It was one of those dirty dens where sailors, returning fromlong voyages, frequently go to dispose of the various trifles they havepicked up in foreign countries, so that among the forlorn specimens ofsecond-hand wearing apparel many quaint and curious objects were to beseen, such as shells, branches of rough coral, strings of beads, cupsand dishes carved out of cocoa-nut, dried gourds, horns of animals, fans, stuffed parakeets, and old coins--while a grotesque wooden idolpeered hideously forth from between the stretched-out portions of apair of old nankeen trousers, as though surveying the miscellaneouscollection in idiotic amazement. An aged man sat smoking at the opendoor of this promising habitation--a true specimen of a Neapolitangrown old. The skin of his face was like a piece of brown parchmentscored all over with deep furrows and wrinkles, as though Time, disapproving of the history he had himself penned upon it, hadscratched over and blotted out all records, so that no one shouldhenceforth be able to read what had once been clear writing. The onlyanimation left in him seemed to have concentrated itself in his eyes, which were black and bead-like, and roved hither and thither with aglance of ever-restless and ever-suspicious inquiry. He saw me comingtoward him, but he pretended to be absorbed in a profound study of thepatch of blue sky that gleamed between the closely leaning houses ofthe narrow street. I accosted him--and he brought his gaze swiftly downto my level, and stared at me with keen inquisitiveness. 

"I have had a long tramp, " I said, briefly, for he was not the kind ofman to whom I could explain my recent terrible adventure, "and I havelost some of my clothes by an accident on the way. Can you sell me asuit? Anything will do--I am not particular. "

The old man took his pipe from his mouth. 

"Do you fear the plague?" he asked. 

"I have just recovered from an attack of it, " I replied, coolly. 

He looked at me attentively from head to foot, and then broke into alow chuckling laugh. 

"Ha! ha!" he muttered, half to himself, half to me. "Good--good! Hereis one like myself--not afraid--not afraid! We are not cowards. We donot find fault with the blessed saints--they send the plague. Thebeautiful plague!--I love it! I buy all the clothes I can get that aretaken from the corpses--they are nearly always excellent clothes. Inever clean them--I sell them again at once--yes--yes! Why not? Thepeople must die--the sooner the better! I help the good God as much asI can. " And the old blasphemer crossed himself devoutly. 

I looked down upon him from where I stood drawn up to my full height, with a glance of disgust. He filled me with something of the samerepulsion I had felt when I touched the unnameable Thing that fastenedon my neck while I slept in the vault. 

"Come!" I said, somewhat roughly, "will you sell me a suit or no?"

"Yes, yes!" and he rose stiffly from his seat; he was very short ofstature, and so bent with age and infirmity that he looked more likethe crooked bough of a tree than a man, as he hobbled before me intohis dark shop. "Come inside, come inside! Take your choice; there isenough here to suit all tastes. See now, what would you? Behold herethe dress of a gentleman, ah! what beautiful cloth, what strong wool!English make? Yes, yes! He was English that wore it; a big, strongmilord, that drank beer and brandy like water--and rich--justheaven!--how rich! But the plague took him; he died cursing God, andcalling bravely for more brandy. Ha, ha! a fine death--a splendiddeath! His landlord sold me his clothes for three francs--one, two, three--but you must give me six; that is fair profit, is it not? And Iam old and poor. I must make something to live upon. "

I threw aside the tweed suit he displayed for my inspection. "Nay, " Isaid, "I care nothing for the plague, but find me something better thanthe cast-off clothing of a brandy-soaked Englishman. I would ratherwear the motley garb of a fellow who played the fool in carnival. "

The old dealer laughed with a crackling sound in his withered throat, like the rattling of stones in a tin pot. 

"Good, good!" he croaked. "I like that, I like that! Thou art old, butthou art merry. That pleases me; one should laugh always. Why not?Death laughs; you never see a solemn skull; it laughs always!"

And he plunged his long lean fingers into a deep drawer full ofmiscellaneous garments, mumbling to himself all the while. I stoodbeside him in silence, pondering on his words, "Thou art OLD, butmerry. " What did he mean by calling ME old? He must be blind, Ithought, or in his dotage. Suddenly he looked up. 

"Talking of the plague, " he said, "it is not always wise. It did afoolish thing yesterday--a very foolish thing. It took one of therichest men in the neighborhood, young too, strong and brave; looked asif he would never die. The plague touched him in the morning--beforesunset he was nailed up and put down in his big family vault--a coldlodging, and less handsomely furnished than his grand marble villa onthe heights yonder. When I heard the news I told the Madonna she waswicked. Oh, yes! I rated her soundly; she is a woman, and capricious; agood scolding brings her to reason. Look you! I am a friend to God andthe plague, but they both did a stupid thing when they took Count FabioRomani. "

I started, but quickly controlled myself into an appearance ofindifference. 

"Indeed!" I said, carelessly. "And pray who was he that he should notdeserve to die as well as other people?"

The old man raised himself from his stooping attitude, and stared at mewith his keen black eyes. 

"Who was he? who was he?" he cried, in a shrill tone. "Oh, he! One cansee you know nothing of Naples. You have not heard of the rich Romani?See you, I wished him to live. He was clever and bold, but I did notgrudge him that--no, he was good to the poor; he gave away hundreds offrancs in charity. I have seen him often--I saw him married. " And herehis parchment face screwed itself into an expression of the mostmalignant cruelty. "Pah! I hate his wife--a fair, soft thing, like awhite snake! I used to watch them both from the corners of the streetsas they drove along in their fine carriage, and I wondered how it wouldall end, whether he or she would gain the victory first. I wanted HIMto win; I would have helped him to kill her, yes! But the saints havemade a mistake this time, for he is dead, and that she-devil has all. Oh, yes! God and the plague have done a foolish thing for once. "

I listened to the old wretch with deepening aversion, yet with somecuriosity too. Why should he hate my wife? I thought, unless, indeed, he hated all youth and beauty, as was probably the case. And if he hadseen me as often as he averred he must know me by sight. How was itthen that he did not recognize me now? Following out this thought, Isaid aloud:

"What sort of looking man was this Count Romani? You say he washandsome--was he tall or short--dark or fair?"

Putting back his straggling gray locks from his forehead, the dealerstretched out a yellow, claw-like hand, as though pointing to somedistant vision. 

"A beautiful man!" he exclaimed; "a man good for the eyes to see! Asstraight as you are!--as tall as you are!--as broad as you are! Butyour eyes are sunken and dim--his were full and large and sparkling. Your face is drawn and pale--his was of a clear olive tint, round andflushed with health; and his hair was glossy black--ah! as jet-black, my friend, as yours is snow-white!"

I recoiled from these last words in a sort of terror; they were like anelectric shock! Was I indeed so changed? Was it possible that thehorrors of a night in the vault had made such a dire impression uponme? My hair white?--mine! I could hardly believe it. If so, perhapsNina would not recognize me--she might be terrified at my aspect--Guidohimself might have doubts of my identity. Though, for that matter, Icould easily prove myself to be indeed Fabio Romani--even if I had toshow the vault and my own sundered coffin. While I revolved all this inmy mind the old man, unconscious of my emotion, went on with hismumbling chatter. 

"Ah, yes, yes! He was a fine fellow--a strong fellow. I used to rejoicethat he was so strong. He could have taken the little throat of hiswife between finger and thumb and nipped it--so! and she would havetold no more lies. I wanted him to do it--I waited for it. He wouldhave done it surely, had he lived. That is why I am sorry he died. "

Mastering my feelings by a violent effort, I forced myself to speakcalmly to this malignant old brute. 

"Why do you hate the Countess Romani so much?" I asked him withsternness. "Has she done you any harm?"

He straightened himself as much as he was able and looked me full inthe eyes. 

"See you!" he answered, with a sort of leering laugh about the cornersof his wicked mouth. "I will tell you why I hate her--yes--I will tellyou, because you are a man and strong. I like strong men--they aresometimes fooled by women, it is true--but then they can take revenge. I was strong myself once. And you--you are old--but you love ajest--you will understand. The Romani woman has done me no harm. Shelaughed--once. That was when her horses knocked me down in the street. I was hurt--but I saw her red lips widen and her white teethglitter--she has a baby smile--the people will tell you--so innocent! Iwas picked up--her carriage drove on--her husband was not with her--hewould have acted differently. But it is no matter--I tell you shelaughed--and then I saw at once the likeness. "

"The likeness!" I exclaimed impatiently, for his story annoyed me. "What likeness?"

"Between her and my wife, " the dealer replied, fixing his cruel eyesupon me with increasing intensity of regard. "Oh, yes! I know what loveis. I know too that God had very little to do with the making of women. It was a long time before even He could find the Madonna. Yes--yes, Iknow! I tell you I married a thing as beautiful as a morning inspring-time--with a little head that seemed to droop like a flowerunder its weight of sunbeam hair--and eyes! ah--like those of a tinychild when it looks up and asks you for kisses. I was absent once--Ireturned and found her sleeping tranquilly--yes! on the breast of ablack-browed street-singer from Venice--a handsome lad enough and braveas a young lion. He saw me and sprung at my throat--I held him down andknelt upon his chest--she woke and gazed upon us, too terrified tospeak or scream--she only shivered and made a little moaning sound likethat of a spoiled baby. I looked down into her prostrate lover's eyesand smiled. 'I will not hurt you, ' I said. 'Had she not consented, youcould not have gained the victory. All I ask of you is to remain herefor a few moments longer. ' He stared, but was mute. I bound him handand foot so that he could not stir. Then I took my knife and went toher. Her blue eyes glared wide--imploringly she turned them uponme--and ever she wrung her small hands and shivered and moaned. Iplunged the keen bright blade deep through her soft white flesh--herlover cried out in agony--her heart's blood welled up in a crimsontide, staining with a bright hue the white garments she wore; she flungup her arms--she sank back on her pillows--dead. I drew the knife fromher body, and with it cut the bonds of the Venetian boy. I then gave itto him. 

"'Take it as a remembrance of her, ' I said. 'In a month she would havebetrayed you as she betrayed me. '"

"He raged like a madman. He rushed out and called the gendarmes. Ofcourse I was tried for murder--but it was not murder--it was justice. The judge found extenuating circumstances. Naturally! He had a wife ofhis own. He understood my case. Now you know why I hate that daintyjeweled woman up at the Villa Romani. She is just like that otherone--that creature I slew--she has just the same slow smile and thesame child-like eyes. I tell you again, I am sorry her husband isdead--it vexes me sorely to think of it. For he would have killed herin time--yes!--of that I am quite sure!"

CHAPTER VI. 

I listened to his narrative with a pained feeling at my heart, and ashuddering sensation as of icy cold ran through my veins. Why, I hadfancied that all who beheld Nina must, perforce, love and admire her. True, when this old man was accidentally knocked down by her horses (acircumstance she had never mentioned to me), it was careless of her notto stop and make inquiry as to the extent of his injuries, but she wasyoung and thoughtless; she could not be intentionally heartless. I washorrified to think that she should have made such an enemy as even thisaged and poverty-stricken wretch; but I said nothing. I had no wish tobetray myself. He waited for me to speak and grew impatient at mysilence. 

"Say now, my friend!" he queried, with a sort of childish eagerness, "did I not take a good vengeance? God himself could not have donebetter!"

"I think your wife deserved her fate, " I said, curtly, "but I cannotsay I admire you for being her murderer. "

He turned upon me rapidly, throwing both hands above his head with afrantic gesticulation. His voice rose to a kind of muffled shriek. 

"Murderer you call me--ha! ha! that is good. No, no! She murdered me! Itell you I died when I saw her asleep in her lover's arms--she killedme at one blow. A devil rose up in my body and took swift revenge; thatdevil is in me now, a brave devil, a strong devil! That is why I do notfear the plague; the devil in me frightens away death. Some day it willleave me"--here his smothered yell sunk gradually to a feeble, wearytone; "yes, it will leave me and I shall find a dark place where I cansleep; I do not sleep much now. " He eyed me half wistfully. 

"You see, " he explained, almost gently, "my memory is very good, andwhen one thinks of many things one cannot sleep. It is many years ago, but every night I see HER; she comes to me wringing her little whitehands, her blue eyes stare, I hear short moans of terror. Every night, every night!" He paused, and passed his hands in a bewildered wayacross his forehead. Then, like a man suddenly waking from sleep, hestared as though he saw me now for the first time, and broke into a lowchuckling laugh. 

"What a thing, what a thing it is, the memory!" he muttered. "Strange--strange! See, I remembered all that, and forgot you! But Iknow what you want--a suit of clothes--yes, you need them badly, and Ialso need the money for them. Ha, ha! And you will not have the finecoat of Milord Inglese! No, no! I understand. I will find yousomething--patience, patience!"

And he began to grope among a number of things that were thrown in aconfused heap at the back of the shop. While in this attitude he lookedso gaunt and grim that he reminded me of an aged vulture stooping overcarrion, and yet there was something pitiable about him too. In a way Iwas sorry for him; a poor half-witted wretch, whose life had been fullof such gall and wormwood. What a different fate was his to mine, Ithought. _I_ had endured but one short night of agony; how trifling itseemed compared to HIS hourly remorse and suffering! He hated Nina foran act of thoughtlessness; well, no doubt she was not the only womanwhose existence annoyed him; it was most probably that he was at enmitywith all women. I watched him pityingly as he searched among theworn-out garments which were his stock-in-trade, and wondered whyDeath, so active in smiting down the strongest in the city, should havethus cruelly passed by this forlorn wreck of human misery, for whom thegrave would have surely been a most welcome release and rest. He turnedround at last with an exulting gesture. 

"I have found it!" he exclaimed. "The very thing to suit you. Your areperhaps a coral-fisher? You will like a fisherman's dress. Here is one, red sash, cap and all, in beautiful condition! He that wore it wasabout your height it will fit you as well as it fitted him, and, lookyou! the plague is not in it, the sea has soaked through and throughit; it smells of the sand and weed. "

He spread out the rough garb before me. I glanced at it carelessly. 

"Did the former wearer kill HIS wife'" I asked, with a slight smile. 

The old rag-picker shook his head and made a sign with his outspreadfingers expressive of contempt. 

"Not he!--He was a fool--He killed himself"

"How was that? By accident or design?"

"Che! Che! He knew very well what he was doing. It happened only twomonths since. It was for the sake of a black-eyed jade, she lives andlaughs all day long up at Sorrento. He had been on a long voyage, hebrought her pearls for her throat and coral pins for her hair. She hadpromised to marry him. He had just landed, he met her on the quay, heoffered her the pearl and coral trinkets. She threw them back and toldhim she was tired of him. Just that--nothing more. He tried to softenher; she raged at him like a tiger-cat. Yes, I was one of the littlecrowd that stood round them on the quay, I saw it all. Her black eyesflashed, she stamped and bit her lips at him, her full bosom heaved asthough it would burst her laced bodice. She was only a market-girl, butshe gave herself the airs of a queen. 'I am tired of you!' she said tohim. 'Go! I wish to see you no more. ' He was tall and well-made, apowerful fellow; but he staggered, his face grew pale, his lipsquivered. He bent his head a little--turned--and before any hand couldstop him he sprung from the edge of the quay into the waves, theyclosed over his head, for he did not try to swim; he just sunk down, down, like a stone. Next day his body came ashore, and I bought hisclothes for two francs; you shall have them for four. "

"And what became of the girl?" I asked. 

"Oh, SHE! She laughs all day long, as I told you. She has a new loverevery week. What should SHE care?"

I drew out my purse. "I will take this suit, " I said. "You ask fourfrancs, here are six, but for the extra two you must show me someprivate corner where I can dress. "

"Yes, yes. But certainly!" and the old fellow trembled all over withavaricious eagerness as I counted the silver pieces into his witheredpalm. "Anything to oblige a generous stranger! There is the place Isleep in; it is not much, but there is a mirror--HER mirror--the onlything I keep of hers; come this way, come this way!"

And stumbling hastily along, almost falling over the disordered bundlesof clothing that lay about in all directions, he opened a little doorthat seemed to be cut in the wall, and led me into a kind of closecupboard, smelling most vilely, and furnished with a miserable palletbed and one broken chair. A small square pane of glass admitted lightenough to see all that there was to be seen, and close to thisextemporized window hung the mirror alluded to, a beautiful thing setin silver of antique workmanship, the costliness of which I at oncerecognized, though into the glass itself I dared not for the momentlook. The old man showed me with some pride that the door to thisnarrow den of his locked from within. 

"I made the lock and key, and fitted it all myself, " he said. "Look howneat and strong! Yes; I was clever once at all that work--it was mytrade--till that morning when I found her with the singer from Venice;then I forgot all I used to know--it went away somehow, I could neverunderstand why. Here is the fisherman's suit; you can take your time toput it on; fasten the door; the room is at your service. "

And he nodded several times in a manner that was meant to be friendly, and left me. I followed his advice at once and locked myself in. Then Istepped steadily to the mirror hanging on the wall, and looked at myown reflection. A bitter pang shot through me. The dealer's sight wasgood, he had said truly. I was old! If twenty years of suffering hadpassed over my head, they could hardly have changed me more terribly. My illness had thinned my face and marked it with deep lines of pain;my eyes had retreated far back into my head, while a certain wildnessof expression in them bore witness to the terrors I had suffered in thevault, and to crown all, my hair was indeed perfectly white. Iunderstood now the alarm of the man who had sold me grapes on thehighway that morning; my appearance was strange enough to startle anyone. Indeed, I scarcely recognized myself. Would my wife, would Guidorecognize me? Almost I doubted it. This thought was so painful to methat the tears sprung to my eyes. I brushed them away in haste. 

"Fy on thee, Fabio! Be a man!" I said, addressing myself angrily. "Ofwhat matter after all whether hairs are black or white? What matter howthe face changes, so long as the heart is true? For a moment, perhaps, thy love may grow pale at sight of thee; but when she knows of thysufferings, wilt thou not be dearer to her than ever? Will not one ofher soft embraces recompense thee for all thy past anguish, and sufficeto make thee young again?"

And thus encouraging my sinking spirits, I quickly arrayed myself inthe Neapolitan coral-fisher's garb. The trousers were very loose, andwere provided with two long deep pockets, convenient receptacles, whicheasily contained the leathern bags of gold and jewels I had taken fromthe brigand's coffin. When my hasty toilet was completed I took anotherglance at the mirror, this time with a half smile. True, I was greatlyaltered; but after all I did not look so bad. The fisherman'spicturesque costume became me well; the scarlet cap sat jauntily on thesnow-white curls that clustered so thickly over my forehead, and theconsciousness I had of approaching happiness sent a little of the oldfearless luster back into my sunken eyes. Besides, I knew I should notalways have this care-worn and wasted appearance; rest, and perhaps achange of air, would infallibly restore the roundness to my face andthe freshness to my complexion; even my white locks might return totheir pristine color, such things had been; and supposing they remainedwhite? well!--there were many who would admire the peculiar contrastbetween a young man's face and an old man's hair. 

Having finished dressing, I unlocked the door of the stuffy littlecabin and called the old rag-picker. He came shuffling along with hishead bent, but raising his eyes as he approached me, he threw up hishands in astonishment, exclaiming, "Santissima Madonna! But you are a fine man--a fine man! Eh, eh! HolyJoseph! What height and breadth! A pity--a pity you are old; you musthave been strong when you were young!"

Half in joke, and half to humor him in his fancy for mere muscularforce, I rolled up the sleeve of my jacket to the shoulder, saying, lightly, "Oh, as for being strong! There is plenty of strength in me still, yousee. "

He stared; laid his yellow fingers on my bared arm with a kind ofghoul-like interest and wonder, and felt the muscles of it withchildish, almost maudlin admiration. 

"Beautiful, beautiful!" he mumbled. "Like iron--just think of it! Yes, yes. You could kill anything easily. Ah! I used to be like that once. Iwas clever at sword-play. I could, with well-tempered steel, cutasunder a seven-times-folded piece of silk at one blow without frayingout a thread. Yes, as neatly as one cuts butter! You could do that tooif you liked. It all lies in the arm--the brave arm that kills at asingle stroke. "

And he gazed at me intently with his small blear eyes as though anxiousto know more of my character and temperament. I turned abruptly fromhim, and called his attention to my own discarded garments. 

"See, " I said, carelessly; "you can have these, though they are not ofmuch value. And, stay, here are another three francs for some socks andshoes, which I dare say you can find to suit me. "

He clasped his hands ecstatically, and poured out a torrent of thanksand praises for this additional and unexpected sum, and protesting byall the saints that he and the entire contents of his shop were at theservice of so generous a stranger, he at once produced the articles Iasked for. I put them on--and then stood up thoroughly equipped andready to make my way back to my own home when I chose. But I hadresolved on one thing. Seeing that I was so greatly changed, Idetermined not to go to the Villa Romani by daylight, lest I shouldstartle my wife too suddenly. Women are delicate; my unexpectedappearance might give her a nervous shock which perhaps would haveserious results. I would wait till the sun had set, and then go up tothe house by a back way I knew of, and try to get speech with one ofthe servants. I might even meet my friend Guido Ferrari, and he wouldbreak the joyful news of my return from death to Nina by degrees, andalso prepare her for my altered looks. While these thoughts flittedrapidly through my brain, the old ragpicker stood near me with his headon one side like a meditative raven, and regarded me intently. 

"Are you going far?" he asked at last, with a kind of timidity. 

"Yes, " I answered him, abruptly; "very far. "

He laid a detaining hand on my sleeve, and his eyes glittered--with amalignant expression. 

"Tell me, " he muttered, eagerly, "tell me--I will keep the secret. Areyou going to a woman?"

I looked down upon him, half in disdain, half in amusement. 

"Yes!" I said, quietly, "I am going to a woman. "

He broke into silent laughter--hideous laughter that contorted hisvisage and twisted his body in convulsive writhings. 

I glanced at him in disgust, and shaking off his hand from my arm, Imade my way to the door of the shop He hobbled quickly after me, wipingaway the moisture that his inward merriment had brought into his eyes. 

"Going to a woman!" he croaked "Ha, ha! You are not the first, nor willyou be the last, that has gone so! Going to a woman! that is well--thatis good! Go to her, go! You are strong, you have a brave arm! Go toher, find her out, and--KILL HER! Yes, yes--you will be able to do iteasily--quite easily! Go and kill her. '"

He stood at his low door mouthing and pointing, his stunted figure andevil face reminding me of one of Heinrich Heine's dwarf devils who aredepicted as piling fire on the heads of the saints. I bade him "Goodday" in an indifferent tone, but he made me no answer I walked slowlyaway. Looking back once I saw him still standing on the threshold ofhis wretched dwelling, his wicked mouth working itself into all mannerof grimaces, while with his crooked fingers he made signs in the air asif he caught an invisible something and throttled it. I went on downthe street and out of it into the broader thoroughfares, with his lastwords ringing in my ears, "go and kill her!"

CHAPTER VII. 

That day seemed very long to me I wandered aimlessly about the city, seeing few faces that I knew, for the wealthier inhabitants, afraid ofthe cholera, had either left the place together or remained closelyshut within their own houses. Everywhere I went something bore witnessto the terrible ravages of the plague. At almost every corner I met afuneral procession. Once I came upon a group of men who were standingin an open door way packing a dead body into a coffin too small for it. There was something truly revolting in the way they doubled up the armsand legs and squeezed in the shoulders of the deceased man--one couldhear the bones crack. I watched the brutal proceedings for a minute orso, and then I said aloud:

"You had better make sure he is quite dead, "

The beccamorti looked at me in surprise; one laughed grimly and swore. "By the body of God, if I thought he were not I would twist hisaccursed neck for him! But the cholera never fails, he is dead forcertain--see!" And he knocked the head of the corpse to and fro againstthe sides of the coffin with no more compunction than if it had been ablock of wood. Sickened at the sight, I turned away and said no more. On reaching one of the more important thoroughfares I perceived severalknots of people collected, who glanced at one another with eager yetshamed faces, and spoke in low voices. A whisper reached my ears, "Theking! the king!" All heads were turned in one direction; I paused andlooked also. Walking at a leisurely pace, accompanied by a fewgentlemen of earnest mien and grave deportment, I saw the fearlessmonarch, Humbert of Italy--he whom his subjects delight to honor. Hewas making a round of visits to all the vilest holes and corners of thecity, where the plague raged most terribly--he had not so much as acigarette in his mouth to ward off infection. He walked with the easyand assured step of a hero; his face was somewhat sad, as though thesufferings of his people had pressed heavily upon his sympatheticheart. I bared my head reverently as he passed, his keen kind eyeslighted on me with a smile. 

"A subject for a painting, yon white-haired fisherman!" I heard him sayto one of his attendants. Almost I betrayed myself. I was on the pointof springing forward and throwing myself at his feet to tell him mystory. It seemed to me both cruel and unnatural that he, my belovedsovereign, should pass me without recognition--me, to whom he hadspoken so often and so cordially. For when I visited Rome, as I wasaccustomed to do annually, there were few more welcome guests at theballs of the Quirinal Palace than Count Fabio Romani. I began to wonderstupidly who Fabio Romani was; the gay gallant known as such seemed nolonger to have any existence--a "white-haired fisherman" usurped hisplace. But though I thought these things I refrained from addressingthe king. Some impulse, however, led me to follow him at a respectfuldistance, as did also many others. His majesty strolled through themost pestilential streets with as much unconcern as though he woretaking his pleasure in a garden of roses; he stepped quietly into thedirtiest hovels where lay both dead and dying; he spoke words of kindlyencouragement to the grief-stricken and terrified mourners, who staredthrough their tears at the monarch with astonishment and gratitude;silver and gold were gently dropped into the hands of the sufferingpoor, and the very pressing cases received the royal benefactor'spersonal attention and immediate relief. Mothers with infants in theirarms knelt to implore the king's blessing--which to pacify them he gavewith a modest hesitation, as though he thought himself unworthy, andyet with a parental tenderness that was infinitely touching. Onewild-eyed, black-haired girl flung herself down on the ground right inthe king's path; she kissed his feet, and then sprung erect with agesture of triumph. 

"I am saved!" she cried; "the plague cannot walk in the same road withthe king!"

Humbert smiled, and regarded her somewhat as an indulgent father mightregard a spoiled daughter; but he said nothing, and passed on. Acluster of men and women standing at the open door of one of thepoorest-looking houses in the street next attracted the monarch'sattention. There was some noisy argument going on; two or threebeccamorti were loudly discussing together and swearing profusely--somewomen were crying bitterly, and in the center of the excited group acoffin stood on end as though waiting for an occupant. One of thegentlemen in attendance on the king preceded him and announced hisapproach, whereupon the loud clamor of tongues ceased, the men baredtheir heads, and the women checked their sobs. 

"What is wrong here, my friends?" the monarch asked with exceedinggentleness. 

There was silence for a moment; the beccamorti looked sullen andashamed. Then one of the women, with a fat good-natured face and eyesrimmed redly round with weeping, elbowed her way through the littlethrong to the front and spoke. 

"May the Holy Virgin and saints bless your majesty!" she cried, inshrill accents. "And as for what is wrong, it would soon be right ifthose shameless pigs, " pointing to the beccamorti, "would let us alone. They would kill a man rather than wait an hour--one little hour! Thegirl is dead, your majesty--and Giovanni, poor lad! will not leave her;he has his two arms round her tight--Holy Virgin!--think of it! and shea cholera corpse--and do what we can, he will not be parted from her, and they seek her body for the burial. And if we force him away, poverino, he will lose his head for certain. One little hour, yourmajesty, just one, and the reverend father will come and persuadeGiovanni better than we can. "

The king raised his hand with a slight gesture of command--the littlecrowd parted before him--and he entered the miserable dwelling whereinlay the corpse that was the cause of all the argument. His attendantsfollowed; I, too, availed myself of a corner in the doorway. The scenedisclosed was so terribly pathetic that few could look upon it withoutemotion--Humbert of Italy himself uncovered his head and stood silent. On a poor pallet bed lay the fair body of a girl in her first youth, her tender loveliness as yet untouched even by the disfiguring marks ofthe death that had overtaken her. One would have thought she slept, hadit not been for the rigidity of her stiffened limbs, and the wax-likepallor of her face and hands. Right across her form, almost covering itfrom view, a man lay prone, as though he had fallen therelifeless--indeed he might have been dead also for any sign he showed tothe contrary. His arms were closed firmly round the girl's corpse--hisface was hidden from view on the cold breast that would no more respondto the warmth of his caresses. A straight beam of sunlight shot like agolden spear into the dark little room and lighted up the wholescene--the prostrate figures on the bed--the erect form of thecompassionate king, and the grave and anxious faces of the little crowdof people who stood around him. 

"See! that is the way he has been ever since last night when she died, "whispered the woman who had before spoken; "and his hands are clinchedround her like iron--one cannot move a finger!"

The king advanced. He touched the shoulder of the unhappy lover. Hisvoice, modulated to an exquisite softness, struck on the ears of thelisteners like a note of cheerful music. 

"Figlio mio!"

There was no answer. The women, touched by the simple endearing wordsof the monarch, began to sob though gently, and even the men brushed afew drops from their eyes. Again the king spoke. 

"Figlio mio! I am your king. Have you no greeting for me?"

The man raised his head from its pillow on the breast of the belovedcorpse and stared vacantly at the royal speaker. His haggard face, tangled hair, and wild eyes gave him the appearance of one who had longwandered in a labyrinth of frightful visions from which there was noescape but self-murder. 

"Your hand, my son!" resumed the king in a tone of soldier-likeauthority. 

Very slowly--very reluctantly--as though he were forced to the actionby some strange magnetic influence which he had no power to withstand, he loosened his right arm from the dead form it clasped sopertinaciously, and stretched forth the hand as commanded. Humbertcaught it firmly within his own and held it fast--then looking the poorfellow full in the face, he said with grave steadiness and simplicity, "There is no death in love, my friend!"

The young man's eyes met his--his set mouth softened--and wresting hishand passionately from that of the king, he broke into a passion ofweeping. Humbert at once placed a protecting arm around him, and withthe assistance of one of his attendants raised him from the bed, andled him unresistingly away, as passively obedient as a child, thoughsobbing convulsively as he went. The rush of tears had saved hisreason, and most probably his life. A murmur of enthusiastic applausegreeted the good king as he passed through the little throng of personswho had witnessed what had taken place. Acknowledging it with a quietunaffected bow, he left the house, and signed to the beccamorti, whostill waited outside, that they were now free to perform theirmelancholy office. He then went on his way attended by more heart-feltblessings and praises than ever fell to the lot of the proudestconqueror returning with the spoils of a hundred battles. I lookedafter his retreating figure till I could see it no more--I felt that Ihad grown stronger for the mere presence of a hero--a man who indeedwas "every inch a king. " I am a royalist--yes. Governed by such asovereign, few men of calm reason would be otherwise. But royalistthough I am, I would assist in bringing about the dethronement anddeath of a mean tyrant, were he crowned king a hundred times over! Fewmonarchs are like Humbert of Italy--even now my heart warms when Ithink of him--in all the distraction of my sufferings, his figurestands out like a supreme embodied Beneficent Force surrounded by theclear light of unselfish goodness--a light in which Italia suns herfair face and smiles again with the old sweet smile of her happiestdays of high achievement--days in which he children were great, simplybecause they were EARNEST. The fault of all modern labor lies in thefact that there is no heart in anything we do--we seldom love our workfor work's sake--we perform it solely for what we can get by it. Therein lies the secret of failure. Friends will scarcely serve eachother unless they can also serve their own interests--true, there areexceptions to this rule, but they are deemed fools for their pains. 

As soon as the king disappeared I also left the scene of the foregoingincident. I had a fancy to visit the little restaurant where I had beentaken ill, and after some trouble I found it. The door stood open. Isaw the fat landlord, Pietro, polishing his glasses as though he hadnever left off; and there in the same corner was the very wooden benchon which I had lain--where I had--as was generally supposed--died. Istepped in. The landlord looked up and bade me good-day. I returned hissalutation, and ordered some coffee and rolls of bread. Seating myselfcarelessly at one of the little tables I turned over the newspaper, while he bustled about in haste to serve me. As he dusted and rubbed upa cup and saucer for my use, he said, briskly, "You have had a long voyage, amico? And successful fishing?"

For a moment I was confused and knew not what to answer, but gatheringmy wits together I smiled and answered readily in the affirmative. 

"And you?" I said, gayly. "How goes the cholera?"

The landlord shook his head dolefully. 

"Holy Joseph! do not speak of it. The people die like flies in ahoney-pot. Only yesterday--body of Bacchus!--who would have thought it?"

And he sighed deeply as he poured out the steaming coffee, and shookhis head more sorrowfully than before. 

"Why, what happened yesterday?" I asked, though I knew perfectly wellwhat he was going to say; "I am a stranger in Naples, and empty ofnews. "

The perspiring Pietro laid a fat thumb on the marble top of the table, and with it traced a pattern meditatively. 

"You never heard of the rich Count Romani?" he inquired. 

I made a sign in the negative, and bent my face over my coffee-cup. 

"Ah, well!" he went on with a half groan, "it does not matter--there isno Count Romani any more. It is all gone--finished! But he was rich--asrich as the king, they say--yet see how low the saints brought him! FraCipriano of the Benedictines carried him in here yesterday morning--hewas struck by the plague--in five hours he was dead, " here the landlordcaught a mosquito and killed it--"ah! as dead as that zinzara! Yes, helay dead on that very wooden bench opposite to you. They buried himbefore sunset. It is like a bad dream!"

I affected to be deeply engrossed with the cutting and Spreading of myroll and butter. 

"I see nothing particular about it, " I said, indifferently. "That hewas rich is nothing--rich and poor must die alike. "

"And that is true, very true, " assented Pietro, with another groan, "for not all his property could save the blessed Cipriano. "

I started, but quickly controlled myself. 

"What do you mean?" I asked, as carelessly as I could. "Are you talkingof some saint?"

"Well, if he were not canonized he deserves to be, " replied thelandlord; "I speak of the holy Benedictine father who brought hitherthe Count Romani in a dying condition. Ah I little he knew how soon thegood God would call him himself!"

I felt a sickening sensation at my heart. 

"Is he dead?" I exclaimed. 

"Dead as the martyrs!" answered Pietro. "He caught the plague, Isuppose, from the count, for he was bending over him to the last. Ay, and he sprinkled holy water over the corpse, and laid his own crucifixupon it in the coffin. Then up he went to the Villa Romani, taking withhim the count's trinkets, his watch, ring, and cigar-case--and nothingwould satisfy him but that he should deliver them himself to the youngcontessa, telling her how her husband died. "

My poor Nina!--I thought. "Was she much grieved?" I inquired, with avague curiosity. 

"How do I know?" said the landlord, shrugging his bulky shoulders. "Thereverend father said nothing, save that she swooned away. But what ofthat? Women swoon at everything--from a mouse to a corpse. As I said, the good Cipriano attended the count's burial--and he had scarcereturned from it when he was seized with the illness. And this morninghe died at the monastery--may his soul rest in peace! I heard the newsonly an hour ago. Ah! he was a holy man! He has promised me a warmcorner in Paradise, and I know he will keep his word as truly as St. Peter himself. "

I pushed away the rest of my meal untasted. The food choked me. I couldhave shed tears for the noble, patient life thus self-sacrificed. Onehero the less in this world of unheroic, uninspired persons! I satsilent, lost in sorrowful thought. The landlord looked at me curiously. 

"The coffee does not please you?" he said at last. "You have noappetite?" I forced a smile. 

"Nay--your words would take the edge off the keenest appetite ever bornof the breath of the sea. Truly Naples affords but sorry entertainmentto a stranger; is there naught to hear but stories of the dying and thedead?"

Pietro put on an air that was almost apologetic. 

"Well, truly!" he answered, resignedly--"very little else. But whatwould you, amico? It is the plague and the will of God. "

As he said the last words my gaze was caught and riveted by the figureof a man strolling leisurely past the door of the cafe. It was GuidoFerrari--my friend! I would have rushed out to speak to him--butsomething in his look and manner checked the impulse as it rose in me. He was walking very slowly, smoking a cigar as he went; there was asmile on his face, and in his coat he wore a freshly-gathered rose LaGloire de France, similar to those that grew in such profusion on theupper terrace of my villa. I stared at him as he passed--my feelingsunderwent a kind of shock. He looked perfectly happy and tranquil, happier indeed than ever I remembered to have seen him, and yet--andyet, according to HIS knowledge, I, his best friend, had died onlyyesterday! With this sorrow fresh upon him, he could smile like a mangoing to a festa, and wear a coral-pink rose, which surely was no signof mourning! For one moment I felt hurt, the next, I laughed at my ownsensitiveness. After all, what of the smile, what of the rose! A mancould not always be answerable for the expression of his countenance, and as for the flower, he might have gathered it en passent, withoutthinking, or what was still more likely, the child Stella might havegiven it to him, in which case he would have worn it to please her. Hedisplayed no badge of mourning? True!--but then consider--I had onlydied yesterday! There had been no time to procure all those outwardappurtenances of woe which social customs rendered necessary, but whichwere no infallible sign of the heart's sincerity. Satisfied with my ownself-reasoning I made no attempt to follow Guido in his walk--I let himgo on his way unconscious of my existence. I would wait, I thought, till the evening--then everything would be explained. 

I turned to the landlord. "How much to pay?" I asked. 

"What you will, amico" he replied--"I am never hard on the fisherfolk--but times are bad, or you would be welcome to a breakfast fornothing. Many and many a day have I done as much for men of your craft, and the blessed Cipriano who is gone used to say that St. Peter wouldremember me for it. It is true the Madonna gives a special blessing ifone looks after the fishers, because all the holy apostles were of thetrade; and I would be loth to lose her protection--yet-"

I laughed and tossed him a franc. He pocketed it at once and his eyestwinkled. 

"Though you have not taken half a franc's worth, " he admitted, with anhonesty very unusual in a Neapolitan--"but the saints will make it upto you, never fear!"

"I am sure of that!" I said, gayly. "Addio, my friend! Prosperity toyou and our Lady's favor!"

This salutation, which I knew to be a common one with Sicilianmariners, the good Pietro responded to with amiable heartiness, wishingme luck on my next voyage. He then betook himself anew to the polishingof his glasses--and I passed the rest of the day in strolling about theleast frequented streets of the city, and longing impatiently for thecrimson glory of the sunset, which, like a wide flag of triumph, was tobe the signal of my safe return to love and happiness. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

It came at last, the blessed, the longed-for evening. A soft breezesprung up, cooling the burning air after the heat of the day, andbringing with it the odors of a thousand flowers. A regal glory ofshifting colors blazed on the breast of heaven--the bay, motionless asa mirror, reflected all the splendid tints with a sheeny luster thatredoubled their magnificence. Pricked in every vein by the stinging ofmy own desires, I yet restrained myself; I waited till the sun sunkbelow the glassy waters--till the pomp and glow attending its departurehad paled into those dim, ethereal hues which are like delicatedraperies fallen from the flying forms of angels--till the yellow rimof the round full moon rose languidly on the edge of the horizon--andthen keeping back my eagerness no longer, I took the well-known roadascending to the Villa Romani, My heart beat high--my limbs trembledwith excitement--my steps were impatient and precipitate--never had theway seemed so long. At last I reached the great gate-way--it was lockedfast--its sculptured lions looked upon me frowningly. I heard thesplash and tinkle of the fountains within, the scents of the roses andmyrtle were wafted toward me with every breath I drew. Home at last! Ismiled--my whole frame quivered with expectancy and delight. It was notmy intention to seek admission by the principal entrance--I contentedmyself with one long, loving look, and turned to the left, where therewas a small private gate leading into an avenue of ilex and pine, interspersed with orange-trees. This was a favorite walk of mine, partly on account of its pleasant shade even in the hottestnoon--partly because it was seldom frequented by any member of thehousehold save myself. Guido occasionally took a turn with me there, but I was more often alone, and I was fond of pacing up and down in theshadow of the trees, reading some favorite book, or giving myself up tothe dolcefar niente of my own imaginings. The avenue led round to theback of the villa, and as I now entered it, I thought I would approachthe house cautiously by this means and get private speech with Assunta, the nurse who had charge of little Stella, and who was moreover an oldand tried family servant, in whose arms my mother had breathed her last. 

The dark trees rustled solemnly as I stepped quickly yet softly alongthe familiar moss-grown path. The place was very still--sometimes thenightingales broke into a bubbling torrent of melody, and then weresuddenly silent, as though overawed by the shadows of the heavyinterlacing boughs, through which the moonlight flickered, castingstrange and fantastic patterns on the ground. A cloud of lucciole brokefrom a thicket of laurel, and sparkled in the air like gems loosenedfrom a queen's crown. Faint odors floated about me, shaken from orangeboughs and trailing branches of white jasmine. I hastened on, myspirits rising higher the nearer I approached my destination. I wasfull of sweet anticipation and passionate longing--I yearned to claspmy beloved Nina in my arms--to see her lovely lustrous eyes lookingfondly into mine--I was eager to shake Guido by the hand--and as forStella, I knew the child would be in bed at that hour, but still, Ithought, I must have her wakened to see me. I felt that my happinesswould not be complete till I had kissed her little cherub face, andcaressed those clustering curls of hers that were like spun gold. Hush--hush! What was that? I stopped in my rapid progress as thoughsuddenly checked by an invisible hand. I listened with strained ears. That sound--was it not a rippling peal of gay sweet laughter? A shivershook me from head to foot. It was my wife's laugh--I knew the silverychime of it well! My heart sunk coldly--I paused irresolute. She couldlaugh then like that, while she thought me lying dead--dead and out ofher reach forever! All at once I perceived the glimmer of a white robethrough the trees; obeying my own impulse, I stepped softly aside--Ihid behind a dense screen of foliage through which I could see withoutbeing seen. The clear laugh rang out once again on the stillness--itsbrightness pierced my brain like a sharp sword! She was happy--she waseven merry--she wandered here in the moonlight joyous-hearted, whileI--I had expected to find her close shut within her room, or elsekneeling before the Mater Dolorosa in the little chapel, praying for mysoul's rest, and mingling her prayers with her tears! Yes--I hadexpected this--we men are such fools when we love women! Suddenly aterrible thought struck me. Had she gone mad? Had the shock and griefof my so unexpected death turned her delicate brain? Was she roamingabout, poor child, like Ophelia, knowing not whither she went, and washer apparent gayety the fantastic mirth of a disordered brain? Ishuddered at the idea--and bending slightly apart the boughs behindwhich I was secreted, I looked out anxiously. Two figures were slowlyapproaching--my wife and my friend, Guido Ferrari. Well--there wasnothing in that--it was as it should be--was not Guido as my brother?It was almost his duty to console and cheer Nina as much as lay in hispower. But stay! stay! did I see aright--was she simply leaning on hisarm for support--or--a fierce oath, that was almost a cry of torture, broke from my lips! Oh, would to God I had died! Would to God I hadnever broken open the coffin in which I lay at peace! What wasdeath--what were the horrors of the vault--what was anything I hadsuffered to the anguish that racked me now? The memory of it to thisday burns in my brain like inextinguishable fire, and my handinvoluntarily clinches itself in an effort to beat back the furiousbitterness of that moment! I know not how I restrained the murderousferocity that awoke within me--how I forced myself to remain motionlessand silent in my hiding-place. But I did. I watched the miserablecomedy out to its end. I looked dumbly on at my own betrayal! I saw myhonor stabbed to the death by those whom I most trusted, and yet I gaveno sign! They--Guido Ferrari and my wife--came so close to myhiding-place that I could note every gesture and hear every word theyuttered. They paused within three steps of me--his arm encircled herwaist--hers was thrown carelessly around his neck--her head rested onhis shoulder. Even so had she walked with me a thousand times! She wasdressed in pure white save for one spot of deep color near her heart--ared rose, as red as blood. It was pinned there with a diamond pin thatflashed in the moonlight. I thought wildly, that instead of that rose, there should be blood indeed--instead of a diamond pin there should bethe good steel of a straight dagger! But I had no weapon--I stared ather, dry-eyed and mute. She looked lovely--exquisitely lovely! No traceof grief marred the fairness of her face--her eyes were as languidlylimpid and tender as ever--her lips were parted in the child-like smilethat was so sweet--so innocently trustful! She spoke--ah, Heaven! theold bewitching music of her low voice made my heart leap and my brainreel. 

"You foolish Guido!" she said, in dreamily amused accents. "What wouldhave happened, I wonder, if Fabio had not died so opportunely. "

I waited eagerly for the answer. Guido laughed lightly. 

"He would never have discovered anything. You were too clever for him, piccinina! Besides, his conceit saved him--he had so good an opinion ofhimself that he would not have deemed it possible for you to care forany other man. "

My wife--flawless diamond-pearl of pure womanhood!--sighed halfrestlessly. 

"I am glad he is dead!" she murmured; "but, Guido mio, you areimprudent. You cannot visit me now so often--the servants will talk!Then I must go into mourning for at least six months--and there aremany other things to consider. "

Guide's hand played with the jeweled necklace she wore--he bent andkissed the place where its central pendant rested. Again--again, goodsir, I pray you! Let no faint scruples interfere with your rightfulenjoyment! Cover the white flesh with caresses--it is public property!a dozen kisses more or less will not signify! So I madly thought as Icrouched among the trees--the tigerish wrath within me making the bloodbeat in my head like a hundred hammer-strokes. 

"Nay then, my love, " he replied to her, "it is almost a pity Fabio isdead! While he lived he played an excellent part as a screen--he was anunconscious, but veritable duenna of propriety for both of us, as noone else could be!"

The boughs that covered me creaked and rustled. My wife started, andlooked uneasily round her. 

"Hush!" she said, nervously. "He was buried only yesterday--and theysay there are ghosts sometimes. This avenue, too--I wish we had notcome here--it was his favorite walk. Besides, " she added, with a slightaccent of regret, "after all he was the father of my child--you mustthink of that. "

"By Heaven!" exclaimed Guido, fiercely, "do I not think of it? Ay--andI curse him for every kiss he stole from your lips!"

I listened half stupefied. Here was a new phase of the marriage law!Husbands were thieves then--they "stole" kisses; only lovers werehonest in their embraces! Oh, my dear friend--my more than brother--hownear you were to death at that moment! Had you but seen my face peeringpallidly through the dusky leaves--could you have known the force ofthe fury pent up within me--you would not have valued your life at onebaiocco!

"Why did you marry him?" he asked, after a little pause, during whichhe toyed with the fair curls that floated against his breast. 

She looked up with a little mutinous pout, and shrugged her shoulders. 

"Why? Because I was tired of the convent, and all the stupid, solemnways of the nuns; also because he was rich, and I was horribly poor. Icannot bear to be poor! Then he loved me"--here her eyes glimmered withmalicious triumph--"yes--he was mad for me--and--"

"You loved him?" demanded Guido, almost fiercely. 

"Ma che!" she answered, with an expressive gesture. "I suppose Idid--for a week or two. As much as one ever loves a husband! What doesone marry for at all? For convenience--money--position--he gave methese things, as you know. "

"You will gain nothing by marrying me, then, " he said, jealously. 

She laughed, and laid her little white hand, glittering with rings, lightly against his lips. 

"Of course not! Besides--have I said I will marry you? You are veryagreeable as a lover--but otherwise--I am not sure! And I am freenow--I can do as I like; I want to enjoy my liberty, and--"

She was not allowed to complete her sentence, for Ferrari snatched herclose to his breast and held her there as in a vise. His face wasaflame with passion. 

"Look you, Nina, " he said, hoarsely, "you shall not fool me, by Heaven!you shall not! I have endured enough at your hands, God knows! When Isaw you for the first time on the day of your marriage with that poorfool, Fabio--I loved you, madly--ay, wickedly as I then thought, butnot for the sin of it did I repent. I knew you were woman, not angel, and I waited my time. It came--I sought you--I told you my story oflove ere three months of wedded life had passed ever your head. I foundyou willing--ready--nay, eager to hear me! You led me on; you know youdid! You tempted me by touch, word and look; you gave me all I sought!Why try to excuse it now? You are as much my wife as ever you wereFabio's--nay--you are more so, for you love me--at least you sayso--and though you lied to your husband, you dare not lie to me. I tellyou, you DARE NOT! I never pitied Fabio, never--he was too easilyduped, and a married man has no right to be otherwise than suspiciousand ever on his guard; if he relaxes in his vigilance he has onlyhimself to blame when his honor is flung like a ball from hand to hand, as one plays with a child's toy. I repeat to you, Nina, you are mine, and I swear you shall never escape me!"

The impetuous words coursed rapidly from his lips, and his deep musicalvoice had a defiant ring as it fell on the stillness of the eveningair. I smiled bitterly as I heard! She struggled in his arms halfangrily. 

"Let me go, " she said. "You are rough, you hurt me!"

He released her instantly. The violence of his embrace had crushed therose she wore, and its crimson leaves fluttered slowly down one by oneon the ground at her feet. Her eyes flashed resentfully, and animpatient frown contracted her fair level brows. She looked away fromhim in silence, the silence of a cold disdain. Something in herattitude pained him, for he sprung forward and caught her hand, covering it with kisses. 

"Forgive me, carina mia" he cried, repentantly. "I did not mean toreproach you. You cannot help being beautiful--it is the fault of Godor the devil that you are so, and that your beauty maddens me! You arethe heart of my heart, the soul of my soul! Oh, Nina mia, let us notwaste words in useless anger. Think of it, we are free--free! Free tomake life a long dream of delight--delight more perfect than angels canknow! The greatest blessing that could have befallen us is the death ofFabio, and now that we are all in all to each other, do not hardenyourself against me! Nina, be gentle with me--of all things in theworld, surely love is best!"

She smiled, with the pretty superior smile of a young empress pardoninga recreant subject, and suffered him to draw her again, but with moregentleness, into his embrace. She put up her lips to meet his--I lookedon like a man in a dream! I saw them cling together--each kiss theyexchanged was a fresh stab to my tortured soul. 

"You are so foolish, Guido mio" she pouted, passing her little jeweledfingers through his clustering hair with a light caress--"soimpetuous--so jealous! I have told you over and over again that I loveyou! Do you not remember that night when Fabio sat out on the balconyreading his Plato, poor fellow!"--here she laughed musically--"and wewere trying over some songs in the drawing--room--did I not say thenthat I loved you best of any one in the world? You know I did! Youought to be satisfied!"

Guido smiled, and stroked her shining golden curls. 

"I AM satisfied, " he said, without any trace of his former heatedimpatience--"perfectly satisfied. But do not expect to find lovewithout jealousy. Fabio was never jealous--I know--he trusted you tooimplicitly--he was nothing of a lover, believe me! He thought more ofhimself than of you. A man who will go away for days at a time onsolitary yachting and rambling excursions, leaving his wife to her owndevices--a man who reads Plato in preference to looking after HER, decides his own fate, and deserves to be ranked with those so-calledwise but most ignorant philosophers to whom Woman has always remainedan unguessed riddle. As for me--I am jealous of the ground you treadupon--of the air that touches you--I was jealous of Fabio while helived--and--by heaven!"--his eyes darkened with a somber wrath--"if anyother man dared now to dispute your love with me I would not rest tillhis body had served my sword as a sheath!"

Nina raised her head from his breast with an air of petulant weariness. 

"Again!" she murmured, reproachfully, "you are going to be angry AGAIN!"

He kissed her. 

"Not I, sweet one! I will be as gentle as you wish, so long as you loveme and only me. Come--this avenue is damp and chilly for you--shall wego in?"

My wife--nay, I should say OUR wife, as we had both shared herimpartial favors--assented. With arms interlaced and walking slowly, they began to retrace their steps toward the house. Once they paused. 

"Do you hear the nightingales?" asked Guido. 

Hear them! Who could not hear them? A shower of melody rained from thetrees on every side--the pure, sweet, passionate tones pierced the earlike the repeated chime of little golden bells--the beautiful, thetender, the God-inspired birds sung their love-stories simply and withperfect rapture--love-stories untainted by hypocrisy--unsullied bycrime--different, ah! so very different from the love-stones of selfishhumanity! The exquisite poetic idyl of a bird's life and love--is itnot a thing to put us inferior creatures to shame--for are we ever astrue to our vows as the lark to his mate?--are we as sincere in ourthanksgivings for the sunlight as the merry robin who sings as blithelyin the winter snow as in the flower-filled mornings of spring? Nay--notwe! Our existence is but one long impotent protest against God, combined with an insatiate desire to get the better of one another inthe struggle for base coin!

Nina listened--and shivered, drawing her light scarf more closely abouther shoulders. 

"I hate them, " she said, pettishly; "their noise is enough to pierceone's ears. And HE used to be so fond of them! he used to sing--whatwas it?

 'Ti salute, Rosignuolo, Nel tuo duolo, il saluto! Sei l'amante delta rosa Che morendo si fa sposa!'"

Her rich voice rippled out on the air, rivaling the songs of thenightingales themselves. She broke off with a little laugh--

"Poor Fabio! there was always a false note somewhere when he sung. Come, Guido!"

And they paced on quietly, as though their consciences were clean--asthough no just retribution dogged their steps--as though no shadow of aterrible vengeance loomed in the heaven of their pilfered happiness! Iwatched them steadily as they disappeared in the distance--I stretchedmy head eagerly out from between the dark boughs and gazed after theirretreating figures till the last glimmer of my wife's white robe hadvanished behind the thick foliage. They were gone--they would return nomore that night. 

I sprung out from my hiding-place. I stood on the spot where they hadstood. I tried to bring home to myself the actual truth of what I hadwitnessed. My brain whirled--circles of light swam giddily before me inthe air--the moon looked blood-red. The solid earth seemed unsteadybeneath my feet--almost I doubted whether I was indeed alive, orwhether I was not rather the wretched ghost of my past self, doomed toreturn from the grave to look helplessly upon the loss and ruin of allthe fair, once precious things of by-gone days. The splendid universearound me seemed no more upheld by the hand of God--no more a majesticmarvel; it was to me but an inflated bubble of emptiness--a mere ballfor devils to kick and spurn through space! Of what avail thesetwinkling stars--these stately leaf-laden trees--these cups offragrance we know as flowers--this round wonder of the eyes calledNature? of what avail was God Himself, I widely mused, since even Hecould not keep one woman true? She whom I loved--she as delicate ofform, as angel-like in face as the child-bride of Christ, St. Agnes--she, even she was--what? A thing lower than the beasts, a thingas vile as the vilest wretch in female form that sells herself for agold piece--a thing--great Heaven!--for all men to despise and makelight of--for the finger of Scorn to point out--for the foul hissingtongue of Scandal to mock at! This creature was my wife--the mother ofmy child--she had cast mud on her soul by her own free will andchoice--she had selected evil as her good--she had crowned herself withshame willingly, nay--joyfully; she had preferred it to honor. Whatshould be done? I tortured myself occasionally with this question. Istared blankly on the ground--would some demon spring from it and giveme the answer I sought? What should be done with HER--with HIM, mytreacherous friend, my smiling betrayer? Suddenly my eyes lighted onthe fallen rose-leaves--those that had dropped when Guido's embrace hadcrushed the flower she wore. There they lay on the path, curled softlyat the edges like little crimson shells. I stooped and picked themup--I placed them all in the hollow of my hand and looked at them. Theyhad a sweet odor--almost I kissed them--nay, nay, I could not--they hadtoo recently lain on the breast of an embodied Lie! Yes; she was that, a Lie, a living, lovely, but accursed Lie! "Go and kill her" Stay!where had I heard that? Painfully I considered, and at lastremembered--and then I thought moodily that the starved and miserablerag-picker was more of a man than I. He had taken his revenge at once;while I, like a fool, had let occasion slip. Yes, but not forever!There were different ways of vengeance; one must decide the best, thekeenest way--and, above all, the way that shall inflict the longest, the cruelest agony upon those by whom honor is wronged. True--it wouldbe sweet to slay sin in the act of sinning, but then--must a Romanibrand himself as a murderer in the sight of men? Not so; there wereother means--other roads, leading to the same end if the tired braincould only plan them out. Slowly I dragged my aching limbs to thefallen trunk of a tree and sat down, still holding the dyingrose-leaves in my clinched palm. There was a surging noise in myears--my mouth tasted of blood, my lips were parched and burning aswith fever. "A white-haired fisherman. " That was me! The king had saidso. Mechanically I looked down at the clothes I wore--the formerproperty of a suicide. "He was a fool, " the vender of them had said, "he killed himself. "

Yes, there was no doubt of it--he was a fool. I would not follow hisexample, or at least not yet. I had something to do first--somethingthat must be done if I could only see my way clear to it. Yes--if Icould only see my way and follow it straightly, resolutely, remorselessly! My thoughts were confused, like the thoughts of afever-stricken man in delirium--the scent of the rose-leaves I heldsickened me strangely--yet I would not throw them from me; no, I wouldkeep them to remind me of the embraces I had witnessed! I felt for mypurse! I found and opened it, and placed the withering red petalscarefully within it. As I slipped it again in my pocket I rememberedthe two leathern pouches I carried--the one filled with gold, the otherwith the jewels I had intended for--HER. My adventures in the vaultrecurred to me; I smiled as I recollected the dire struggle I had madefor life and liberty. Life and liberty!--of what use were they to menow, save for one thing--revenge? I was not wanted; I was not expectedback to refill my former place on earth--the large fortune I hadpossessed was now my wife's by the decree of my own last will andtestament, which she would have no difficulty in proving. But still, wealth was mine--the hidden stores of the brigands were sufficient tomake any man more than rich for the term of his natural life. As Iconsidered this, a sort of dull pleasure throbbed in my veins. Money!Anything could be done for money--gold would purchase even vengeance. But what sort of vengeance? Such a one as I sought must beunique--refined, relentless, and complete. I pondered deeply. Theevening wind blew freshly up from the sea; the leaves of the swayingtrees whispered mysteriously together; the nightingales warbled on withuntired sweetness; and the moon, like the round shield of an angelwarrior, shone brightly against the dense blue background of the sky. Heedless of the passing of hours, I sat still, lost in a bewilderedreverie. "There was always a false note somewhere when he sung!" So shehad said, laughing that little laugh of hers as cold and sharp as theclash of steel. True, true; by all the majesty of Heaven, most true!There was indeed a false note--jarring, not so much the voice as themusic of life itself. There is stuff in all of us that will weave, aswe desire it, into a web of stately or simple harmony; but let themeteor-like brilliancy of a woman's smile--a woman's touch--a woman'sLIE--intermingle itself with the strain, and lo! the false note isstruck, discord declares itself, and God Himself, the great Composer, can do nothing in this life to restore the old calm tune of peaceful, unspoiled days! So I have found; so all of you must find, long beforeyou and sorrow grow old together. 

"A white-haired fisherman!"

The words of the king repeated themselves over and over again in mytortured brain. Yes--I was greatly changed, I looked worn and old--noone would recognize me for my former self. All at once, with thisthought, an idea occurred to me--a plan of vengeance, so bold, so new, and withal so terrible, that I started from my seat as though stung byan adder. I paced up and down restlessly, with this lurid light offearful revenge pouring in on every nook and cranny of my darkenedmind. From whence had come this daring scheme? What devil, or ratherwhat angel of retribution, had whispered it to my soul? Dimly Iwondered--but amid all my wonder I began practically to arrange thedetails of my plot. I calculated every small circumstance that waslikely to occur in the process of carrying it out. My stupefied sensesbecame aroused from the lethargy of despair, and stood up like soldierson the alert armed to the teeth. Past love, pity, pardon, patience--pooh! what were all these resources of the world's weaknessto ME? What was it to me that the bleeding Christ forgave His enemiesin death? He never loved a woman! Strength and resolution returned tome. Let common sailors and rag-pickers resort to murder and suicide asfit outlets for their unreasoning brute wrath when wronged; but as forme, why should I blot my family scutcheon with a merely vulgar crime?Nay, the vengeance of a Romani must be taken with assured calmness andeasy deliberation--no haste, no plebeian fury, no effeminate fuss, noexcitement. I walked up and down slowly, meditating on every point ofthe bitter drama in which I had resolved to enact the chief part, fromthe rise to the fall of the black curtain. The mists cleared from mybrain--I breathed more easily--my nerves steadied themselves bydegrees--the prospect of what I purposed doing satisfied me and calmedthe fever in my blood. I became perfectly cool and collected. Iindulged in no more futile regrets for the past--why should I mourn theloss of a love I never possessed? It was not as if they had waited tillmy supposed sudden death--no! within three months of my marriage theyhad fooled me; for three whole years they had indulged in theircriminal amour, while I, blind dreamer, had suspected nothing. NOW Iknew the extent of my injury; I was a man bitterly wronged, vilelyduped. Justice, reason, and self-respect demanded that I should punishto the utmost the miserable tricksters who had played me false. Thepassionate tenderness I had felt for my wife was gone--I plucked itfrom my heart as I would have torn a thorn from my flesh--I flung itfrom me with disgust as I had flung away the unseen reptile that hadfastened on my neck in the vault. The deep warm friendship of years Ihad felt for Guido Ferrari froze to its very foundations--and in itsplace there rose up, not hate, but pitiless, immeasurable contempt. Astern disdain of myself also awoke in me, as I remembered theunreasoning joy with which, I had hastened--as I thought--home, full ofeager anticipation and Romeo-like ardor. An idiot leaping merrily tohis death over a mountain chasm was not more fool than I! But the dreamwas over--the delusion of my life was passed. I was strong to avenge--Iwould be swift to accomplish. So, darkly musing for an hour or more, Idecided on the course I had to pursue, and to make the decision final Idrew from my breast the crucifix that the dead monk Cipriano had laidwith me in my coffin, and kissing it, I raised it aloft, and swore bythat sacred symbol never to relent, never to relax, never to rest, tillI had brought my vow of just vengeance to its utmost fulfillment. Thestars, calm witnesses of my oath, eyed me earnestly from their judgmentthrones in the quiet sky--there was a brief pause in the singing of thenightingales, as though they too listened--the wind sighed plaintively, and scattered a shower of jasmine blossoms like snow at my feet. Evenso, I thought, fall the last leaves of my white days--days of pleasure, days of sweet illusion, days of dear remembrance; even so let themwither and perish utterly forever! For from henceforth my life must besomething other than a mere garland of flowers--it must be a chain offinely tempered steel, hard, cold, and unbreakable--formed into linksstrong enough to wind round and round two false lives and imprison themso closely as to leave no means of escape. This was what must bedone--and I resolved to do it. With a firm, quiet step I turned toleave the avenue. I opened the little private wicket, and passed intothe dusty road. A clanging noise caused me to look up as I went by theprincipal entrance of the Villa Romani. A man servant--my ownman-servant by the by--was barring the great gates for the night. Ilistened as he slid the bolts into their places, and turned the key. Iremembered that those gates had been thoroughly fastened before, when Icame up the road from Naples--why then had they been opened since? Tolet out a visitor? Of course! I smiled grimly at my wife's cunning! Sheevidently knew what she was about. Appearances must be kept up--theSignor Ferrari must be decorously shown out by a servant at the chiefentrance of the house. Naturally!--all very unsuspicious--looking andquite in keeping with the proprieties! Guido had just left her then? Iwalked steadily, without hurrying my pace, down the hill toward thecity, and on the way I overtook him. He was strolling lazily along, smoking as usual, and he held a spray of stephanotis in his hand--wellI knew who had given it to him! I passed him--he glanced up carelessly, his handsome face clearly visible in the bright moonlight--but therewas nothing about a common fisherman to attract his attention--his lookonly rested upon me for a second and was withdrawn immediately. Aninsane desire possessed me to turn upon him--to spring at histhroat--to wrestle with him and throw him in the dust at my feet--tospit at him and trample upon him--but I repressed those fierce anddangerous emotions. I had a better game to play--I had an exquisitetorture in store for him, compared to which a hand-to-hand fight wasmere vulgar fooling. Vengeance ought to ripen slowly in the strong heatof intense wrath, till of itself it falls--hastily snatched before itstime it is like unmellowed fruit, sour and ungrateful to the palate. SoI let my dear friend--my wife's consoler--saunter on his heedless waywithout interference--I passed, leaving him to indulge in amorousmusings to his false heart's content. I entered Naples, and found anight's lodging at one of the usual resorts for men of my supposedcraft, and, strange to say, I slept soundly and dreamlessly. Recentillness, fatigue, fear, and sorrow, all aided to throw me like anexhausted child upon the quiet bosom of slumber, but perhaps the mostpowerfully soothing opiate to my brain was the consciousness I had of apractical plan of retribution--more terrible perhaps than any humancreature had yet devised, so far as I knew. Unchristian you call me? Itell you again, Christ never loved a woman! Had He done so, He wouldhave left us some special code of justice. 

CHAPTER IX. 

I rose very early the next morning--I was more than ever strengthenedin my resolutions of the past night--my projects were entirely formed, and nothing remained now but for me to carry them out. Unobserved ofany one I took my way again to the vault. I carried with me a smalllantern, a hammer, and some strong nails. Arrived at the cemetery Ilooked carefully everywhere about me, lest some stray mourner orcurious stranger might possibly be in the neighborhood. Not a soul wasin sight. Making use of the secret passage, I soon found myself on thescene of my recent terrors and sufferings, all of which seemed now soslight in comparison with, the mental torture of my present condition. I went straight to the spot where I had left the coffined treasure--Ipossessed myself of all the rolls of paper money, and disposed them invarious small packages about my person and in the lining of my clothestill, as I stood, I was worth many thousand of francs. Then with thehelp of the tools I had brought, I mended the huge chest in the splitplaces where I had forced it open, and nailed it up fast so that itlooked as if it had never been touched. I lost no time over my task, for I was in haste. It was my intention to leave Naples for a fortnightor more, and I purposed taking my departure that very day. Beforeleaving the vault I glanced at the coffin I myself had occupied. ShouldI mend that and nail it up as though my body were still inside?No--better leave it as it was--roughly broken open--it would serve mypurpose better so. As soon as I had finished all I had to do, Iclambered through the private passage, closing it after me with extracare and caution, and then I betook myself directly to the Molo. Onmaking inquiries among the sailors who were gathered there, I heardthat a small coasting brig was on the point of leaving for Palermo. Palermo would suit me as well as any other place; I sought out thecaptain of the vessel. He was a brown-faced, merry-eyed mariner--heshowed his glittering white teeth in the most amiable of smiles when Iexpressed my desire to take passage with him, and consented to thearrangement at once for a sum which I thought extremely moderate, butwhich I afterward discovered to be about treble his rightful due. Butthe handsome rogue cheated me with such grace and exquisite courtesy, that I would scarcely have had him act otherwise than he did. I hear agood deal of the "plain blunt honesty" of the English. I dare say thereis some truth in it, but for my own part I would rather be cheated by afriendly fellow who gives you a cheery word and a bright look thanreceive exact value for my money from the "plain blunt" boor who seldomhas the common politeness to wish you a good-day. 

We got under way at about nine o'clock--the morning was bright, and theair, for Naples, was almost cool. The water rippling against the sidesof our little vessel had a gurgling, chatty murmur, as though it weretalking vivaciously of all the pleasant things it experienced betweenthe rising and the setting of the sun; of the corals and trailingsea-weed that grew in its blue depths, of the lithe glittering fishthat darted hither and thither between its little waves, of thedelicate shells in which dwelt still more delicate inhabitants, fantastic small creatures as fine as filmy lace, that peeped from thewhite and pink doors of their transparent habitations, and looked asenjoyingly on the shimmering blue-green of their ever-moving element aswe look on the vast dome of our sky, bespangled thickly with stars. Ofall these things, and many more as strange and sweet, the gossipingwater babbled unceasingly; it had even something to say to meconcerning woman and woman's love. It told me gleefully how many fairfemale bodies it had seen sunk in the cold embrace of the conqueringsea, bodies, dainty and soft as the sylphs of a poet's dream, yetwhich, despite their exquisite beauty, had been flung to and fro incruel sport by the raging billows, and tossed among pebbles for themonsters of the deep to feed upon. 

As I sat idly on the vessel's edge and looked down, down into the clearMediterranean, brilliantly blue as a lake of melted sapphires, Ifancied I could see her the Delilah of my life, lying prone on thegolden sand, her rich hair floating straightly around her like yellowweed, her hands clinched in the death agony, her laughing lips bluewith the piercing chilliness of the washing tide--powerless to move orsmile again. She would look well so, I thought--better to my mind thanshe looked in the arms of her lover last night. I fell into a train ofprofound meditation--a touch on my shoulder startled me. I looked up, the captain of the brig stood beside me. He smiled and held out acigarette. 

"The signor will smoke?" he said courteously. 

I accepted the little roll of fragrant Havanna half mechanically. 

"Why do you call me signor?" I inquired brusquely. "I am acoral-fisher. "

The little man shrugged his shoulders and bowed deferentially, yet withthe smile still dancing gayly in his eyes and dimpling his olive cheeks. 

"Oh, certainly! As the signor pleases--ma--" And he ended with anotherexpressive shrug and bow. 

I looked at him fixedly. "What do you mean?" I asked with somesternness. 

With that birdlike lightness and swiftness which were part of hismanner, the Sicilian skipper bent forward and laid a brown finger on mywrist. 

"Scusa, vi prego! But the hands are not those of a fisher of coral. "

I glanced down at them. True enough, their smoothness and pliant shapebetrayed my disguise--the gay little captain was sharp-witted enough tonote the contrast between them and the rough garb I wore, though no oneelse with whom I had come in contact had been as keen of observation ashe. At first I was slightly embarrassed by his remark--but after amoment's pause I met his gaze frankly, and lighting my cigarette Isaid, carelessly:

"Ebbene! And what then, my friend?"

He made a deprecatory gesture with his hands. 

"Nay, nay, nothing--but only this. The signor must understand he isperfectly safe with me. My tongue is discreet--I talk of things onlythat concern myself. The signor has good reasons for what he does--ofthat I am sure. He has suffered; it is enough to look in his face tosee that. Ah, Dio if there are so many sorrows in life; there is love, "he enumerated rapidly on his fingers--"there is revenge--there arequarrels--there is loss of money; any of these will drive a man fromplace to place at all hours and in all weathers. Yes; it is so, indeed--I know it! The signor has trusted himself in my boat--I desireto assure him of my best services. "

And he raised his red cap with so charming a candor that in my lonelyand morose condition I was touched to the heart. Silently I extended myhand--he caught it with an air in which respect, sympathy, and entirefriendliness were mingled. And yet he overcharged me for my passage, you exclaim! Ay--but he would not have made me the object ofimpertinent curiosity for twenty times the money! You cannot understandthe existence of such conflicting elements in the Italian character?No--I dare say not. The tendency of the calculating northerner underthe same circumstances would have been to make as much out of me aspossible by means of various small and contemptible items, and then togo with broadly honest countenance to the nearest police-station anddescribe my suspicious appearance and manner, thus exposing me to freshexpense besides personal annoyance. With the rare tact thatdistinguishes the southern races the captain changed the conversationby a reference to the tobacco we were both enjoying. 

"It is good, is it not?" he asked. 

"Excellent!" I answered, as indeed it was. 

His white teeth glittered in a smile of amusement. 

"It should be of the finest quality--for it is a present from one whowill smoke nothing but the choice brands. Ah, Dio! what a finegentleman spoiled is Carmelo Neri!"

I could not repress a slight start of surprise. What caprice of Fateassociated me with this famous brigand? I was actually smoking histobacco, and I owed all my present wealth to his stolen treasuressecreted in my family vault!

"You know the man, then?" I inquired with some curiosity. 

"Know him? As well as I know myself. Let me see, it is twomonths--yes--two months to-day since he was with me on board this veryvessel. It happened in this way--I was at Gaeta--he came to me and toldme the gendarmes were after him. He offered me more gold than I everhad in my life to take him to Termini, from whence he could get to oneof his hiding-places in the Montemaggiore. He brought Teresa with him;he found me alone on the brig, my men had gone ashore. He said, 'Takeus to Termini and I will give you so much; refuse and I will slit yourthroat. ' Ha! ha! ha! That was good. I laughed at him. I put a chair forTeresa on deck, and gave her some big peaches. I said, 'See, myCarmelo! what use is there in threats? You will not kill me, and Ishall not betray you. You are a thief, and a bad thief--by all thesaints you are--but I dare say you would not be much worse than thehotel-keepers, if you could only keep your hand off your knife. ' (Foryou know, signor, if you once enter a hotel you must pay almost aransom before you can get out again!) Yes--and I reasoned with Carmeloin this manner: I told him, 'I do not want a large fortune for carryingyou and Teresa across to Termini--pay me the just passage and we shallpart friends, if only for Teresa's sake. ' Well, he was surprised. Hesmiled that dark smile of his, which may mean gratitude or murder. Helooked at Teresa. She sprung up from her seat, and let her peaches fallfrom her lap on the deck. She put her little hands on mine--the tearswere in her pretty blue eyes. 'You are a good man, ' she said. 'Somewoman must love you very much!' Yes--she said that. And she was right. Our Lady be praised for it!"

And his dark eyes glanced upward with a devout gesture of thanksgiving. I looked at him with a sort of jealous hunger gnawing at my heart. Herewas another self deluded fool--a fond wretch feasting on theunsubstantial food of a pleasant dream--a poor dupe who believed in thetruth of woman!

"You are a happy man, " I said with a forced smile; "you have a guidingstar for your life as well as for your boat--a woman that loves you andis faithful? is it so?"

He answered me directly and simply, raising his cap slightly as he didso. 

"Yes, signor--my mother. "

I was deeply touched by his naive and unexpected reply--more deeplythan I cared to show. A bitter regret stirred in my soul--why, oh, whyhad my mother died so young! Why had I never known the sacred joy thatseemed to vibrate through the frame, and sparkle in the eyes of thiscommon sailor! Why must I be forever alone, with a curse of a woman'slie on my life, weighing me down to the dust and ashes of a desolatedespair! Something in my face must have spoken my thoughts, for thecaptain said, gently:

"The signor has no mother?"

"She died when I was but a child, " I answered, briefly. 

The Sicilian puffed lightly at his cigarette in silence--the silence ofan evident compassion. To relieve him of his friendly embarrassment, Isaid:

"You spoke of Teresa? Who is Teresa?"

"Ah, you may well ask, signor! No one knows who she is; she lovesCarmelo Neri, and there all is said. Such a little thing she is--sodelicate! like a foam-bell on the waves; and Carmelo--You have seenCarmelo, signor?"

I shook my head in the negative. 

"Ebbene! Carmelo is big and rough and black like a wolf of the forests, all hair and fangs; Teresa is, well! you have seen a little cloud inthe sky at night, wandering past the moon all flecked with palegold?--that is Teresa. She is, small and slight as a child; she hasrippling curls, and soft praying eyes, and tiny, weak, white hands, notstrong enough to snap a twig in two. Yet she can do anything withCarmelo--she is the one soft spot in his life. "

"I wonder if she is true to him, " I muttered, half to myself and halfaloud. 

The captain caught up my words with an accent of surprise. 

"True to him? Ah, Dio! but the signor does not know her. There was oneof Carmelo's own band, as bold and handsome a cut-throat as everlived--he was mad for Teresa--he followed her everywhere like a beatencur. One day he found her alone; he tried to embrace her--she snatcheda knife from his own girdle and stabbed him with it, like a littlefury! She did not kill him then, but Carmelo did afterward. To think ofa little woman like that with such a devil in her! It is her boast thatno man, save Carmelo, has ever touched so much as a ringlet of herhair. Ay; she is true to him--more's the pity. "

"Why--you would not have her false?" I asked. 

"Nay, nay--for a false woman deserves death--but still it is a pityTeresa should have fixed her love on Carmelo. Such a man! One day thegendarmes will have him, then he will be in the galleys for life, andshe will die. Yes--you may be sure of that! If grief does not kill herquickly enough, then she will kill herself, that is certain! She isslight and frail to look at as a flower, but her soul is strong asiron. She, will have her own way in death as well as in love--somewomen are made so, and it is generally the weakest-looking among themwho have the most courage. "

Our conversation was here interrupted by one of the sailors who camefor his master's orders. The talkative skipper, with an apologeticsmile and bow, placed his box of cigarettes beside me where I sat, andleft me to my own reflections. 

I was not sorry to be alone. I needed a little breathing time--a restin which to think, though my thoughts, like a new solar system, revolved round the red planet of one central idea, VENGEANCE. "A falsewoman deserves death. " Even this simple Sicilian mariner said so. "Goand kill her, go and kill her!" These words reiterated themselves overand over again in my ears, till I found myself almost uttering themaloud. My soul sickened at the contemplation of the woman Teresa--themistress of a wretched brigand whose name was fraught withhorror--whose looks were terrific--she, even SHE could keep herselfsacred from the profaning touch of other men's caresses--she was proudof being faithful to her wolf of the mountains, whose temper wasuncertain and treacherous--she could make lawful boast of her fidelityto her blood-stained lover--while Nina--the wedded wife of a noblewhose descent was lofty and unsullied, could tear off the fair crown ofhonorable marriage and cast it in the dust--could take the dignity ofan ancient family and trample upon it--could make herself so low andvile that even this common Teresa, knowing all, might and most probablywould, refuse to touch her hand, considering it polluted. Just God!what had Carmelo Neri done to deserve the priceless jewel of a truewoman's heart? what had I done to merit such foul deception as thatwhich I was now called upon to avenge? Suddenly I thought of my child. Her memory came upon me like a ray of light--I had almost forgottenher. Poor little blossom!--the slow hot tears forced themselves betweenmy eyelids, as I called up before my fancy the picture of the soft babyface--the young untroubled eyes--the little coaxing mouth alwaysbudding into innocent kisses! What should I do with her? When the planof punishment I had matured in my brain was carried out to its utmost, should I take her with me far, far away into some quiet corner of theworld, and devote my life to hers? Alas! alas! she, too, would be awoman and beautiful--she was a flower born of a poisoned tree, whocould say that there might not be a canker-worm hidden even in herheart, which waited but for the touch of maturity to commence its workof destruction! Oh, men! you that have serpents coiled round your livesin the shape of fair false women--if God has given you children bythem, the curse descends upon you doubly! Hide it as you will under thesociety masks we are all forced to wear, you know there is nothing morekeenly torturing than to see innocent babes look trustingly in thedeceitful eyes of an unfaithful wife, and call her by the sacred nameof "Mother. " Eat ashes and drink wormwood, you shall find them sweet incomparison to that nauseating bitterness! For the rest of the day I wasvery much alone. The captain of the brig spoke cheerily to me now andthen, but we were met by light contrary winds that necessitated hisgiving most of his attention to the management of his vessel, so thathe could not permit himself to yield to the love of gossip that wasinherent in him. The weather was perfect, and notwithstanding ourconstant shifting and tacking about to catch the erratic breeze, thegay little brig made merry and rapid way over the sparklingMediterranean, at a rate that promised our arrival at Palermo by thesunset of the following day. As the evening came on the wind freshened, and by the time the moon soared like a large blight bird into the sky, we were scudding along sideways, the edge of our vessel leaning over tokiss the waves that gleamed like silver and gold, flecked here andthere with phosphorescent flame. We skimmed almost under the bows of amagnificent yacht--the English flag floated from her mast--her sailsglittered purely white in the moonbeams, and she sprung over the waterlike a sea-gull. A man, whose tall athletic figure was shown off toadvantage by the yachting costume he wore, stood on deck, his armthrown round the waist of a girl beside him. We were but a minute ortwo passing the stately vessel, yet I saw plainly this loving group oftwo, and--I pitied the man! Why? He was English undoubtedly--the son ofa country where the very soil is supposed to be odorous ofvirtue--therefore the woman beside him must be a perfect pearl ofpurity; an Englishman never makes a mistake in these things! Never? Areyou sure? Ah, believe me, there is not much difference nowadays betweenwomen of opposite nations. Once there was--I am willing to admit thatpossibility. Once, from all accounts received, the English rose was thefitting emblem of the English woman, but now, since the world has grownso wise and made such progress in the art of running rapidly downhill, is even the aristocratic British peer quite easy in his mind regardinghis fair peeress? Can he leave her to her own devices with safety? Arethere not men, boastful too of their "blue blood, " who are perhapsready to stoop to the thief's trick of entering his house during hisabsence by means of private keys, and stealing away his wife'saffections?--and is not she, though a mother of three or four children, ready to receive with favor the mean robber of her husband's rights andhonor? Read the London newspapers any day and you will find that once"moral" England is running a neck and neck race with other lesshypocritical nations in pursuit of social vice. The barriers that onceexisted are broken down; "professional beauties" are received incircles where their presence formerly would have been the signal forall respectable women instantly to retire; ladies of title aresatisfied to caper on the boards of the theatrical stage, in costumesthat display their shape as undisguisedly as possible to the eyes ofthe grinning public, or they sing in concert halls for the pleasure ofshowing themselves off, and actually accept the vulgar applause ofunwashed crowds with a smile and a bow of gratitude! Ye gods! what hasbecome of the superb pride of the old regime--the pride which disdainedall ostentation and clung to honor more closely than life! What astriking sign of the times too, is this: let a woman taint her virtueBEFORE marriage, she is never forgiven--her sin is never forgotten; butlet her do what she will when she has a husband's name to screen her, and society winks its eyes at her crimes. Couple this fact with thegeneral spirit of mockery that prevails in fashionable circles--mockeryof religion, mockery of sentiment, mockery of all that is best andnoblest in the human heart--add to it the general spread of"free-thought, " and THEREFORE of conflicting and unstable opinions--letall these things together go on for a few years longer and England willstare at her sister nations like a bold woman in a domino--her featurespartly concealed from a pretense at shame, but her eyes glitteringcoldly through the mask, betraying to all who look at her how shesecretly revels in her new code of lawlessness coupled with greed. Forshe will always be avaricious--and the worst of it is, that her naturebeing prosaic, there will be no redeeming grace to cast a glamour abouther. France is unvirtuous enough, God knows, yet there is a sunshinysmile on her lips that cheers the heart. Italy is also unvirtuous, yether voice is full of bird-like melody, and her face is a dream ofperfect poetry! But England unvirtuous will be like a cautiouslycalculating, somewhat shrewish matron, possessed of unnatural andunbecoming friskiness, without either laugh, or song, or smile--her onegod, Gold, and her one commandment, the suggested eleventh, "Thou shallnot be found out!"

I slept that night on deck. The captain offered me the use of hislittle cabin, and was, in his kind-hearted manner, truly distressed atmy persistent refusal to occupy it. 

"It is bad to sleep in the moonlight, signor, " he said, anxiously. "Itmakes men mad, they say. "

I smiled. Had madness been my destiny, I should have gone mad lastnight, I thought!

"Have no fear!" I answered him, gently. "The moonlight is a joy tome--it has no impression on my mind save that of peace. I shall restwell here, my friend--do not trouble yourself about me. "

He hesitated and then abruptly left me, to return in the space of twoor three minutes with a thick rug of sheepskin. He insisted soearnestly on my accepting this covering as a protection from the nightair, that, to please him, I yielded to his entreaties and lay down, wrapped in its warm folds. The good-natured fellow then wished me a"Buon riposo, signor!" and descended to his own resting-place, humminga gay tune as he went. From my recumbent posture on the deck I staredupward at the myriad stars that twinkled softly in the warm violetskies--stared long and fixedly till it seemed to me that our ship hadalso become a star, and was sailing through space with its glitteringcompanions. What inhabitants peopled those fair planets, I wondered?Mere men and women who lived and loved and lied to one another asbravely as we do? or superior beings to whom the least falsehood isunknown? Was there one world among them where no women were born? Vaguefancies--odd theories--flitted through my brain, I lived over again theagony of my imprisonment in the vaults--again I forced myself tocontemplate the scene I had witnessed between my wife and herlover--again I meditated on every small detail requisite to thefulfillment of the terrible vengeance I had designed. I have oftenwondered how, in countries where divorce is allowed, a wronged husbandcan satisfy himself with so meager a compensation for his injuries asthe mere getting rid of the woman who has deceived him. It is nopunishment to her--it is what she wishes. There is not even any veryspecial disgrace in it according to the present standard of socialobservances. Were public whipping the recognized penalty for the crimeof a married woman's infidelity, there would be fewer of the likescandals--the divorce might follow the scourging. A daintily brought-upfeminine creature would think twice, nay, fifty times, before she wouldrun the risk of allowing her delicate body to be lashed by whipswielded by the merciless hands of a couple of her own sex--such aprospect of degradation, pain, shame, and outraged vanity would be moreeffectual to kill the brute in her than all the imposing ceremonials ofcourts of law and special juries. Think of it, kings, lords, andcommons! Whipping at the cart's tail was once a legal punishment--ifyou would stop the growing immorality and reckless vice of women youhad best revive it again--only apply it to rich as well as to poor, forit is most probable that the gay duchesses and countesses of your landswill need its sharp services more frequently than the work-worn wivesof your laboring men. Luxury, idleness, and love of dress are hot-bedsfor sin--look for it, therefore, not so much in the hovels of thestarving and naked as in the rose-tinted, musk-scented boudoirs of thearistocracy--look for it, as your brave physicians would search out theseeds of a pestilence that threatens to depopulate a great city, andtrample it out if you CAN and WILL--if you desire to keep the name ofyour countries glorious in the eyes of future history. Spare not therod because "my lady" forsooth! with her rich hair falling around herin beauteous dishevelment and her eyes bathed in tears, implores yourmercy--for by very reason of her wealth and station she deserves lesspity than the painted outcast who knows not where to turn for bread. Ahigh post demands high duty! But I talk wildly. Whipping is done awaywith, for women at least--we give a well-bred shudder of disgust at thethought of it. When do we shudder with equal disgust at our own socialenormities? Seldom or never. Meanwhile, in cases of infidelity, husbands and wives can separate and go on their different ways incomparative peace. Yes--some can and some do; but I am not one ofthese. No law in all the world can mend the torn flag of MY honor;therefore I must be a law to myself--a counsel, a jury, a judge, all inone and from my decision there can be no appeal! Then I must act asexecutioner--and what torture was ever so perfectly unique as the one Ihave devised? So I mused, lying broadly awake, with face upturned tothe heavens, watching the light of the moon pouring itself out on theocean like a shower of gold, while the water rushed gurgling softlyagainst the sides of the brig, and broke into the laughter of whitefoam as we scudded along. 

CHAPTER X. 

All the next day the wind was in our favor, and we arrived at Palermoan hour before sunset. We had scarcely run into harbor when a smallparty of officers and gendarmes, heavily laden with pistols andcarbines, came on board and showed a document authorizing them tosearch the brig for Carmelo Neri. I was somewhat anxious for the safetyof my good friend the captain--but he was in nowise dismayed; he smiledand welcomed the armed emissaries of the government as though they werehis dearest friends. 

"To give you my opinion frankly, " he said to them, as he opened a flaskof line Chianti for their behoof, "I believe the villain Carmelo issomewhere about Gaeta. I would not tell you a lie--why should I? Isthere not a reward offered, and am not I poor? Look you, I would do mybest to assist you!"

One of the men looked at him dubiously. 

"We received information, " he said, in precise, business-like tones, "that Neri escaped from Gaeta two months since, and was aided andabetted in his escape by one Andrea Luziani, owner of the coasting brig'Laura, ' journeying for purposes of trade between Naples and Palermo. You are Andrea Luziani, and this is the brig 'Laura, '--we are right inthis; is it not so?"

"As if you could ever be wrong, caro!" cried the captain withundiminished gayety, clapping him on the shoulder. "Nay, if St. Petershould have the bad taste to shut you out of heaven, you would becunning enough to find another and better entrance! Ah, Dio! I believeit! Yes, you are right about my name and the name of my brig, but inthe other things, "--here he shook his fingers with an expressive signof denial--"you are wrong--wrong--all wrong!" He broke into a gaylaugh. "Yes, wrong--but we will not quarrel about it! Have some moreChianti! Searching for brigands is thirsty work. Fill your glasses, amici--spare not the flask--there are twenty more below stairs!"

The officers smiled in spite of themselves, as they drank the profferedwine, and the youngest-looking of the party, a brisk, handsome fellow, entered into the spirit of the captain with ardor, though he evidentlythought he should trap him into a confession unawares, by the apparentcarelessness and bonhomie of his manner. 

"Bravo, Andrea!" he cried, merrily. "So! let us all be friendstogether! Besides, what harm is there in taking a brigand for apassenger--no doubt he would pay you better than most cargoes!"

But Andrea was not to be so caught. On the contrary; he raised hishands and eyes with an admirably feigned expression of shocked alarm. 

"Our Lady and the saints forgive you!" he exclaimed, piously, "forthinking that I, an honest marinaro, would accept one baiocco from anaccursed brigand! Ill-luck would follow me ever after! Nay, nay--therehas been a mistake; I know nothing of Carmelo Neri, and I hope thesaints will grant that I may never meet him!"

He spoke with so much apparent sincerity that the officers in commandwere evidently puzzled, though the fact of their being so did not deterthem from searching the brig thoroughly. Disappointed in theirexpectations, they questioned all on board, including myself, but wereof course unable to obtain any satisfactory replies. Fortunately theyaccepted my costume as a sign of my trade, and though they glancedcuriously at my white hair, they seemed to think there was nothingsuspicious about me. After a few more effusive compliments andcivilities on the part of the captain, they took their departure, completely baffled, and quite convinced that the information they hadreceived had been somehow incorrect. As soon as they were out of sight, the merry Andrea capered on his deck like a child in a play-ground, andsnapped his fingers defiantly. 

"Per Bacco!" he cried, ecstatically, "they should as soon make a priesttell confessional secrets, as force me, honest Andrea Luziani, tobetray a man who has given me good cigars! Let them run back to Gaetaand hunt in every hole and corner! Carmelo may rest comfortably in theMontemaggiore without the shadow of a gendarme to disturb him! Ah, signor!" for I had advanced to bid him farewell--"I am truly sorry topart company with you! You do not blame me for helping away a poordevil who trusts me?"

"Not I!" I answered him heartily. "On the contrary, I would there weremore like you. Addio I and with this, " here I gave him thepassage-money we had agreed upon, "accept my thanks. I shall not forgetyour kindness; if you ever need a friend, send to me. "

"But, " he said, with a naive mingling of curiosity and timidity, "howcan I do that if the signor does not tell me his name?"

I had thought of this during the past night. I knew it would benecessary to take a different name, and I had resolved on adopting thatof a school-friend, a boy to whom I had been profoundly attached in myearliest youth, and who had been drowned before my eyes while bathingin the Venetian Lido. So I answered Andrea's question at once andwithout effort. 

"Ask for the Count Cesare Oliva, " I said. "I shall return to Naplesshortly, and should you seek me, you will find me there. "

The Sicilian doffed his cap and saluted me profoundly. 

"I guessed well, " he remarked, smilingly, "that the Signor Conte'shands were not those of a coral-fisher. Oh, yes! I know a gentlemanwhen I see him--though we Sicilians say we are all gentlemen. It is agood boast, but alas! not always true! A rivederci, signor! Command mewhen you will--I am your servant!"

Pressing his hand, I sprung lightly from the brig on to the quay. 

"A rivederci!" I called to him. "Again, and yet again, a thousandthanks!"

"Oh! tropp' onore, signor--tropp' onore!" and thus I left him, standingstill bareheaded on the deck of his little vessel, with a kindly lighton his brown face like the reflection of a fadeless sunbeam. Good-hearted, merry rogue! His ideas of right and wrong were oddlymixed--yet his lies were better than many truths told us by our candidfriends--and you may be certain the great Recording Angel knows thedifference between a lie that saves and a truth that kills, and metesout Heaven's reward or punishment accordingly. 

My first care, when I found myself in the streets of Palermo, was topurchase clothes of the best material and make adapted to a gentleman'swear. I explained to the tailor whose shop I entered for this purposethat I had joined a party of coral-fishers for mere amusement, and hadfor the time adopted their costume. He believed my story the morereadily as I ordered him to make several more suits for me immediately, giving him the name of Count Cesare Oliva, and the address of the besthotel in the city. He served me with obsequious humility, and allowedme the use of his private back-room, where I discarded my fisher garbfor the dress of a gentleman--a ready-made suit that happened to fit mepassably well. Thus arrayed as became my station, I engaged rooms atthe chief hotel of Palermo for some weeks--weeks that were for me fullof careful preparation for the task of vengeful retribution that laybefore me. One of my principal objects was to place the money I hadwith me in safe hands. I sought out the leading banker in Palermo, andintroducing myself under my adopted name, I stated that I had newlyreturned to Sicily after some years' absence. He received me well, andthough he appeared astonished at the large amount of wealth I hadbrought, he was eager and willing enough to make satisfactoryarrangements with me for its safe keeping, including the bag of jewels, some of which, from their unusual size and luster, excited his genuineadmiration. Seeing this, I pressed on his acceptance a fine emerald andtwo large brilliants, all unset, and requested him to have a ring madeof them for his own wear. Surprised at my generosity, he at firstrefused--but his natural wish to possess such rare gems finallyprevailed, and he took them, overpowering me with thanks--while I wasperfectly satisfied to see that I had secured his services sothoroughly by my jeweled bribe, that he either forgot, or else saw nonecessity to ask me for personal references, which in my position wouldhave been exceeding difficult, if not impossible, to obtain. When thisbusiness transaction was entirely completed, I devoted myself to mynext consideration--which was to disguise myself so utterly that no oneshould possibly be able to recognize the smallest resemblance in me tothe late Fabio Romani, either by look, voice, or trick of manner. I hadalways worn a mustache--it had turned white in company with my hair. Inow allowed my beard to grow--it came out white also. But in contrastwith these contemporary signs of age, my face began to fill up and lookyoung again; my eyes, always large and dark, resumed their oldflashing, half-defiant look--a look, which it seemed to me, would makesome familiar suggestion to those who had once known me as I was beforeI died. Yes--they spoke of things that must be forgotten and unuttered;what should I do with these tell-tale eyes of mine?

I thought, and soon decided. Nothing was easier than to feign weaksight-sight that was dazzled by the heat and brilliancy of the southernsunshine, I would wear smoke-colored glasses. I bought them as soon asthe idea occurred to me, and alone in my room before the mirror I triedtheir effect. I was satisfied; they perfectly completed the disguise ofmy face. With them and my white hair and beard, I looked like awell-preserved man of fifty-five or so, whose only physical ailment wasa slight affection of the eyes. 

The next thing to alter was my voice. I had, naturally, a peculiarlysoft voice and a rapid, yet clear, enunciation, and it was my habit, asit is the habit of almost every Italian, to accompany my words with theexpressive pantomime of gesture. I took myself in training as an actorstudies for a particular part. I cultivated a harsh accent, and spokewith deliberation and coldness--occasionally with a sort of sarcasticbrusquerie, carefully avoiding the least movement of hands or headduring converse. This was exceedingly difficult of attainment to me, and took me an infinite deal of time and trouble; but I had for mymodel a middle-aged Englishman who was staying in the same hotel asmyself, and whose starched stolidity never relaxed for a singleinstant. He was a human iceberg--perfectly respectable, with that airof decent gloom about him which is generally worn by all the sons ofBritain while sojourning in a foreign clime. I copied his manners asclosely as possible; I kept my mouth shut with the same precise air ofnot-to-be-enlightened obstinacy--I walked with the same upright drilldemeanor--and I surveyed the scenery with the same superior contempt. Iknew I had succeeded at last, for I overheard a waiter speaking of meto his companion as "the white bear!"

One other thing I did. I wrote a courteous note to the editor of theprincipal newspaper published in Naples--a newspaper that I knew alwaysfound its way to the Villa Romani--and inclosing fifty francs, Irequested him to insert a paragraph for me in his next issue, Thisparagraph was worded somewhat as follows:

"The Signor Conte Cesare Oliva, a nobleman who has been for many yearsabsent from his native country, has, we understand, just returned, possessed of almost fabulous wealth, and is about to arrive in Naples, where he purposes making his home for the future. The leaders ofsociety here will no doubt welcome with enthusiasm so distinguished anaddition to the brilliant circles commanded by their influence. "

The editor obeyed my wishes, and inserted what I sent him, word forword as it was written. He sent me the paper containing it "with amillion compliments, " but was discreetly silent concerning the fiftyfrancs, though I am certain he pocketed them with unaffected joy. Had Isent him double the money, he might have been induced to announce me asa king or emperor in disguise. Editors of newspapers lay claim to behonorable men; they may be so in England, but in Italy most of themwould do anything for money. Poor devils! who can blame them, considering how little they get by their limited dealings in pen andink! In fact, I am not at all certain but that a few English newspapereditors might be found capable of accepting a bribe, if large enough, and if offered with due delicacy. There are surely one or twomagazines, for instance, in London, that would not altogether refuse toinsert an indifferently, even badly written article, if paid a thousandpounds down for doing it!

On the last day but one of my sojourn in Palermo I was reclining in aneasy-chair at the window of the hotel smoking-room, looking out on theshimmering waters of the gulf. It was nearly eight o'clock, and thoughthe gorgeous colors of the sunset still lingered in the sky, the breezeblew in from the sea somewhat coldly, giving warning of an approachingchilly night. The character I had adopted, namely that of a somewhatharsh and cynical man who had seen life and did not like it, had byconstant hourly practice become with me almost second nature--indeed, Ishould have had some difficulty in returning to the easy andthoughtless abandon of my former self. I had studied the art of beingchurlish till I really WAS churlish; I had to act the chief characterin a drama, and I knew my part thoroughly well. I sat quietly puffingat my cigar and thinking of nothing in particular--for, as far as myplans went, I had done with thought, and all my energies were strung upto action--when I was startled by a loud and increasing clamor, as ofthe shouting of a large crowd coming onward like an overflowing tide. Ileaned out of the window, but could see nothing, and I was wonderingwhat the noise could mean, when an excited waiter threw open the doorof the smoking-room and cried, breathlessly:

"Carmelo Neri, signor! Carmelo Neri! They have him, poverino! they havehim at last!"

Though almost as strongly interested in this news as the waiterhimself, I did not permit my interest to become manifest. I neverforgot for a second the character I had assumed, and drawing the cigarslowly from my lips I merely said:

"Then they have caught a great rascal. I congratulate the Government!Where is the fellow?"

"In the great square, " returned the garcon, eagerly. "If the signorwould walk round the corner he would see Carmelo, bound and fettered. The saints have mercy upon him! The crowds there are thick as fliesround a honeycomb! I must go thither myself--I would not miss the sightfor a thousand francs!"

And he ran off, as full of the anticipated delight of looking at abrigand as a child going to its first fair. I put on my hat andstrolled leisurely round to the scene of excitement. It was apicturesque sight enough; the square was black with a sea of eagerheads, and restless, gesticulating figures, and the center of thisswaying, muttering crowd was occupied by a compact band of mountedgendarmes with drawn swords flashing in the pale evening light--bothhorses and men nearly as motionless as though cast in bronze. They werestationed opposite the head-quarters of the Carabinieri, where thechief officer of the party had dismounted to make his formal reportrespecting the details of the capture before proceeding further. Between these armed and watchful guards, with his legs strapped to asturdy mule, his arms tied fast behind him, and his hands heavilymanacled, was the notorious Neri, as dark and fierce as a mountainthunder-storm. His head was uncovered--his thick hair, long andunkempt, hung in matted locks upon his shoulders--his heavy mustachiosand beard were so black and bushy that they almost concealed his coarseand forbidding features--though I could see the tiger-like glitter ofhis sharp white teeth as he bit and gnawed his under lip in impotentfury and despair--and his eyes, like leaping flames, blazed with awrathful ferocity from under his shaggy brows. He was a huge, heavyman, broad and muscular; his two hands clinched, tied and manacledbehind him, looked like formidable hammers capable of striking a mandown dead at one blow; his whole aspect was repulsive andterrible--there was no redeeming point about him--for even the apparentfortitude he assumed was mere bravado--meretricious courage--which thefirst week of the galleys would crush out of him as easily as onecrushes the juice out of a ripe grape. He wore a nondescript costume ofvari-colored linen, arranged in folds that would have been theadmiration of an artist. It was gathered about him by means of abrilliant scarlet sash negligently tied. His brawny arms were bare tothe shoulder--his vest was open, and displayed his strong brown throatand chest heaving with the pent-up anger and fear that raged withinhim. His dark grim figure was set off by a curious effect of color inthe sky--a long wide band of crimson cloud, as though the sun-god hadthrown down a goblet of ruby wine and left it to trickle along thesmooth blue fairness of his palace floor--a deep after-glow, whichburned redly on the olive-tinted eager faces of the multitude that wereeverywhere upturned in wonder and ill-judged admiration to the brutalblack face of the notorious murderer and thief, whose name had foryears been the terror of Sicily. I pressed through the crowd to obtaina nearer view, and as I did so a sudden savage movement of Neri's boundbody caused the gendarmes to cross their swords in front of his eyeswith a warning clash. The brigand laughed hoarsely. 

"Corpo di Cristo!" he muttered--"think you a man tied hand and foot canrun like a deer? I am trapped--I know it! But tell HIM, " and heindicated some person in the throng by a nod of his head "tell him tocome hither--I have a message for him. "

The gendarmes looked at one another, and then at the swaying crowdabout them in perplexity--they did not understand. 

Carmelo, without wasting more words upon them, raised himself asuprightly as he could in his strained and bound position, and calledaloud:

"Luigi Biscardi! Capitano! Oh he--you thought I could not see you! Dio!I should know you in hell! Come near, I have a parting word for you. "

At the sound of his strong harsh voice, a silence half of terror, halfof awe, fell upon the chattering multitude. There was a sudden stir asthe people made way for a young man to pass through their ranks--aslight, tall, rather handsome fellow, with a pale face and cold, sneering eyes. He was dressed with fastidious care and neatness in theuniform of the Bersagliere--and he elbowed his way along with the easyaudacity of a privileged dandy. He came close up to the brigand andspoke carelessly, with a slightly mocking smile playing round thecorners of his mouth. 

"Ebbene!" he said, "you are caught at last, Carmelo! You calledme--here I am. What do you want with me, rascal?"

Neri uttered a ferocious curse between his teeth, and looked for aninstant like a wild beast ready to spring. 

"You betrayed me, " he said in fierce yet smothered accents--"youfollowed me--you hunted me down! Teresa told me all. Yes--she belongsto you now--you have got your wish. Go and take her--she waits foryou--make her speak and tell you how she loves you--IF YOU CAN!"

Something jeering and withal threatening in the ruffian's look, evidently startled the young officer, for he exclaimed hastily:

"What do you mean, wretch? You have not--my God! you have not KILLEDher?"

Carmelo broke into a loud savage laugh. 

"She has killed herself!" he cried, exultingly. "Ha, ha, I thought youwould wince at that! She snatched my knife and stabbed herself with it!Yes--rather than see your lying white face again--rather than feel youraccursed touch! Find her--she lies dead and smiling up there in themountains and her last kiss was for ME--for ME--you understand! Now go!and may the devil curse you!"

Again the gendarmes clashed their swords suggestively--and the brigandresumed his sullen attitude of suppressed wrath and feignedindifference. But the man to whom he had spoken staggered and seemedabout to fall--his pale face grew paler--he moved away through thecurious open-eyed by-standers with the mechanical air of one who knowsnot whether he be alive or dead. He had evidently received anunexpected shock--a wound that pierced deeply and would be a long timehealing. 

I approached the nearest gendarme and slipped a five-franc piece intohis hand. 

"May one speak?" I asked, carelessly. The man hesitated. 

"For one instant, signor. But be brief. "

I addressed the brigand in a low clear-tone. 

"Have you any message for one Andrea Luziani? I am a friend of his. "

He looked at me and a dark smile crossed his features. 

"Andrea is a good soul. Tell him if you will that Teresa is dead. I amworse than dead. He will know that I did not kill Teresa. I could not!She had the knife in her breast before I could prevent her. It isbetter so. "

"She did that rather than become the property of another man?" Iqueried. 

Carmelo Neri nodded in acquiescence. Either my sight deceived me, orelse this abandoned villain had tears glittering in the depth of hiswicked eyes. 

The gendarme made me a sign, and I withdrew. Almost at the same momentthe officer in command of the little detachment appeared, his spursclinking with measured metallic music on the hard stones of thepavement--he sprung into his saddle and gave the word--the crowddispersed to the right and left--the horses were put to a quick trot, and in a few moments the whole party with the bulky frowning form ofthe brigand in their midst had disappeared. The people broke up intolittle groups talking excitedly of what had occurred, and scatteredhere and there, returning to their homes and occupations--and moreswiftly than one could have imagined possible, the great square wasleft almost empty. I paced up and down for awhile thinking deeply; Ihad before my mind's eye the picture of the slight fair Teresa asdescribed by the Sicilian captain, lying dead in the solitudes of theMontemaggiore with that self-inflicted wound in her breast which hadset her free of all men's love and persecution. There WERE some womenthen who preferred death to infidelity? Strange! very strange! commonwomen of course they must be--such as this brigand's mistress; yourdaintily fed, silk-robed duchess would find a dagger somewhat a vulgarconsoler--she would rather choose a lover, or better still a score oflovers. It is only brute ignorance that selects a grave instead ofdishonor--modern education instructs us more wisely, and teaches us notto be over-squeamish about such a trifle as breaking a given word orpromise. Blessed age of progress! Age of steady advancement when theapple of vice is so cunningly disguised and so prettily painted that wecan actually set it on a porcelain dish and hand it about among ourfriends as a valuable and choice fruit of virtue--and no one finds outthe fraud we are practicing, nay, we scarcely perceive it ourselves, itis such an excellent counterfeit!

As I walked to and fro, I found myself continually passing the headoffice of the Carabinieri, and, acting on a sudden impulse ofcuriosity, I at last entered the building, determined to ask for a fewparticulars concerning the brigand's capture. I was received by ahandsome and intelligent-looking man, who glanced at the card withwhich I presented myself, and saluted me with courteous affability. 

"Oh, yes!" he said, in answer to my inquiries, "Neri has given us agreat deal of trouble. But we had our suspicions that he had leftGaeta, where he was for a time in hiding. A few stray bits ofinformation gleaned here and there put us on the right track. "

"Was he caught easily, or did he show fight?"

"He gave himself up like a lamb, signor! It happened in this way. Oneof our men followed the woman who lived with Neri, one Teresa, andtraced her up to a certain point, the corner of a narrow mountainpass--where she disappeared. He reported this, and thereupon we sentout an armed party. These crept at midnight two by two, till they wereformed in a close ring round the place where Neri was judged to be. With the first beam of morning they rushed in upon him and took himprisoner. It appears that he showed no surprise--he merely said, 'Iexpected you!' He was found sitting by the dead body of his mistress;she was stabbed and newly bleeding. No doubt he killed her, though heswears the contrary--lies are as easy to him as breathing. "

"But where were his comrades? I thought he commanded a large band?"

"So he did, signor; and we caught three of the principals only afortnight ago, but of the others no trace can be found. I supposeCarmelo himself dismissed them and sent them far and wide through thecountry. At any rate, they are disbanded, and with these sort offellows, where there is no union there is no danger. "

"And Neri's sentence?" I asked. 

"Oh, the galleys for life of course; there is no possible alternative. "

I thanked my informant, and left the office. I was glad to have learnedthese few particulars, for the treasure I had discovered in my ownfamily vault was now more mine than ever. There was not the remotestchance of any one of the Neri band venturing so close to Naples insearch of it, and I thought with a grim smile that had the brigandchief himself known the story of my wrongs, he would most probably haverejoiced to think that his buried wealth was destined to aid me incarrying out so elaborate a plan of vengeance. All difficultiessmoothed themselves before me--obstacles were taken out of my path--myway was made perfectly clear--each trifling incident was a newfinger-post pointing out the direct road that led me to the one desiredend. God himself seemed on my side, as He is surely ever on the side ofjustice! Let not the unfaithful think that because they say longprayers or go regularly and devoutly to church with meek faces andpiously folded hands that the Eternal Wisdom is deceived thereby. Mywife could pray--she could kneel like a lovely saint in the dimreligious light of the sacred altars, her deep eyes upturned to theblameless, infinitely reproachful Christ--and look you! each word sheuttered was a blasphemy, destined to come back upon herself as a curse. Prayer is dangerous for liars--it is like falling willfully on anupright naked sword. Used as an honorable weapon the sworddefends--snatched up as the last resource of a coward it kills. 

CHAPTER XI. 

The third week of September was drawing to its close when I returned toNaples. The weather had grown cooler, and favorable reports of thegradual decrease of the cholera began to gain ground with the sufferingand terrified population. Business was resumed as usual, pleasure hadagain her votaries, and society whirled round once more in its giddywaltz as though it had never left off dancing. I arrived in the citysomewhat early in the day, and had time to make some preliminaryarrangements for my plan of action. I secured the most splendid suiteof apartments in the best hotel, impressing the whole establishmentwith a vast idea of my wealth and importance. I casually mentioned tothe landlord that I desired to purchase a carriage and horses--that Ineeded a first-class valet, and a few other trifles of the like sort, and added that I relied on his good advice and recommendation as to theplaces where I should best obtain all that I sought. Needless to say, he became my slave--never was monarch better served than I--the verywaiters hustled each other in a race to attend upon me, and reports ofmy princely fortune, generosity, and lavish expenditure, began to flitfrom mouth to month--which was the result I desired to obtain. 

And now the evening of my first day in Naples came, and I, the supposedConte Cesare Oliva, the envied and flattered noble, took the first steptoward my vengeance. It was one of the loveliest evenings possible, even in that lovely land--a soft breeze blew in from the sea--the skywas pearl-like and pure as an opal, yet bright with delicate shiftingclouds of crimson and pale mauve--small, fleecy flecks of Radiance, that looked like a shower of blossoms fallen from some far invisibleflower-land. The waters of the bay were slightly ruffled by the wind, and curled into tender little dark-blue waves tipped with light forgesof foam. After my dinner I went out and took my way to a well-known andpopular cafe which used to be a favorite haunt of mine in the days whenI was known as Fabio Romani, Guido Ferrari was a constant habitue ofthe place, and I felt that I should find him there. The brilliantrose-white and gold saloons were crowded, and owing to the pleasantcoolness of the air there were hundreds of little tables pushed far outinto the street, at which groups of persons were seated, enjoying ices, wine, or coffee, and congratulating each other on the agreeable news ofthe steady decrease of the pestilence that had ravaged the city. Iglanced covertly yet quickly round. Yes! I was not mistaken--there wasmy quondam friend, my traitorous foe, sitting at his ease, leaningcomfortably back in one chair, his feet put up on another. He wassmoking, and glancing now and then through the columns of the Paris"Figaro. " He was dressed entirely in black--a hypocritical livery, thesomber hue of which suited his fine complexion and perfectly handsomefeatures to admiration. On the little finger of the shapely hand thatevery now and then was raised to adjust his cigar, sparkled a diamondthat gave out a myriad scintillations as it flashed in the eveninglight--it was of exceptional size and brilliancy, and even at adistance I recognized it as my own property!

So!--a love-gift, signor, or an in memoriam of the dear and valuedfriend you have lost? I wondered--watching him in dark scorn thewhile--then recollecting myself, I sauntered slowly toward him, andperceiving a disengaged table next to his, I drew a chair to it and satdown He looked at me in differently over the top of his newspaper--butthere was nothing specially attractive in the sight of a white-hairedman wearing smoke-colored spectacles, and he resumed his perusal of the"Figaro" immediately. I rapped the end of my walking-cane on the tableand summoned a waiter from whom I ordered coffee. I then lighted acigar, and imitating Ferrari's easy posture, smoked also. Something inmy attitude then appeared to strike him, for he laid down his paper andagain looked at me, this time with more interest and something ofuneasiness. "Ca commence, mon ami!" I thought, but I turned my headslightly aside and feigned to be absorbed in the view. My coffee wasbrought--I paid for it and tossed the waiter an unusually largegratuity--he naturally found it incumbent upon him to polish my tablewith extra zeal, and to secure all the newspapers, pictorial orotherwise, that were lying about, for the purpose of obsequiouslydepositing them in a heap at my right hand. I addressed this amiablegarcon in the harsh and deliberate accents of my carefully disguisedvoice. 

"By the way, I suppose you know Naples well?"

"Oh, si, signor!"

"Ebbene, can you tell me the way to the house of one Count FabioRomani, a wealthy nobleman of this city?"

Ha! a good hit this time! Though apparently not looking at him I sawFerrari start as though he had been stung, and then compose himself inhis seat with an air of attention. The waiter meanwhile, in answer tomy question, raised his hands, eyes and shoulders all together with ashrug expressive of resigned melancholy. 

"Ah, gran Dio! e morto!"

"Dead!" I exclaimed, with a pretended start of shocked surprise. "Soyoung? Impossible!"

"Eh! what will you, signor? It was la pesta; there was no remedy. Lapesta cares nothing for youth or age, and spares neither rich nor poor. "

For a moment I leaned my head on my hand, affecting to be overcome bythe suddenness of the news. Then looking up, I said, regretfully:

"Alas! I am too late! I was a friend of his father's. I have been awayfor many years, and I had a great wish to meet the young Romani whom Ilast saw as a child. Are there any relations of his living--was hemarried?"

The waiter, whose countenance had assumed a fitting lugubriousness inaccordance with what he imagined were my feelings, brightened upimmediately as he replied eagerly:

"Oh, si, signor! The Contessa Romani lives up at the villa, though Ibelieve she receives no one since her husband's death. She is young andbeautiful as an angel. There is a little child too. "

A hasty movement on the part of Ferrari caused me to turn my eyes, orrather my spectacles, in his direction. He leaned forward, and raisinghis hat with the old courteous grace I knew so well, said politely:

"Pardon me, signor, for interrupting you! I knew the late young CountRomani well--perhaps better than any man in Naples. I shall bedelighted to afford you any information you may seek concerning him. "

Oh, the old mellow music of his voice--how it struck on my heart andpierced it like the refrain of a familiar song loved in the days of ouryouth. For an instant I could not speak--wrath and sorrow choked myutterance. Fortunately this feeling was but momentary--slowly I raisedmy hat in response to his salutation, and answered stiffly:

"I am your servant, signor. You will oblige me indeed if you can placeme in communication with the relatives of this unfortunate youngnobleman. The elder Count Romani was dearer to me than a brother--menhave such attachments occasionally. Permit me to introduce myself, " andI handed him my visiting-card with a slight and formal bow. He acceptedit, and as he read the name it bore he gave me a quick glance ofrespect mingled with pleased surprise. 

"The Conte Cesare Oliva!" he exclaimed. "I esteem myself most fortunateto have met you! Your arrival has already been notified to us by theavant-courier of the fashionable intelligence, so that we are wellaware, " here laughing lightly, "of the distinctive right you have to ahearty welcome in Naples. I am only sorry that any distressing newsshould have darkened the occasion of your return here after so long anabsence. Permit me to express the hope that it may at least be the onlycloud for you on our southern sunshine!"

And he extended his hand with that ready frankness and bonhomie whichare always a part of the Italian temperament, and were especially so ofhis. A cold shudder ran through my veins. God! could I take his hand inmine? I must--if I would act my part thoroughly--for should I refuse hewould think it strange--even rude--I should lose the game by one falsemove. With a forced smile I hesitatingly held out my hand also--it wasgloved, yet as he clasped it heartily in his own the warm pressureburned through the glove like fire. I could have cried out in agony, soexcruciating was the mental torture which I endured at that moment. Butit passed, the ordeal was over, and I knew that from henceforth Ishould be able to shake hands with him as often and as indifferently aswith any other man. It was only this FIRST time that it galled me tothe quick. Ferrari noticed nothing of my emotion--he was in excellentspirits, and turning to the waiter, who had lingered to watch us makeeach other's acquaintance, he exclaimed:

"More coffee, garcon, and a couple of glorias. " Then looking toward me, "You do not object to a gloria, conte? No? That is well. And here is MYcard, " taking one from his pocket and laying it on the table. "GuidoFerrari, at your service, an artist and a very poor one. We shallcelebrate our meeting by drinking each other's health!"

I bowed. The waiter vanished to execute his orders and Ferrari drew hischair closer to mine. 

"I see you smoke, " he said, gayly. "Can I offer you one of my cigars?They are unusually choice. Permit me, " and he proffered roe a richlyembossed and emblazoned silver cigar-case, with the Romani arms andcoronet and MY OWN INITIALS engraved thereon. It was mine, of course--Itook it with a sensation of grim amusement--I had not seen it since theday I died!

"A fine antique, " I remarked, carelessly, turning it over and over inmy hand, "curious and valuable. A gift or an heirloom?"

"It belonged to my late friend, Count Fabio, " he answered, puffing alight cloud of smoke in the air as he drew his cigar from his lips tospeak. "It was found in his pocket by the priest who saw him die. Thatand other trifles which he wore on his person were delivered to hiswife, and--"

"She naturally gave YOU the cigar-case as a memento of your friend, " Isaid, interrupting him. 

"Just so. You have guessed it exactly. Thanks, " and he took the casefrom me as I returned it to him with a frank smile. 

"Is the Countess Romani young?" I forced myself to inquire. 

"Young and beautiful as a midsummer morning!" replied Ferrari, withenthusiasm. "I doubt if sunlight ever fell on a more enchanting woman!If you were a young man, conte, I should be silent regarding hercharms--but your white hairs inspire one with confidence. I assure yousolemnly, though Fabio was my friend, and an excellent fellow in hisways, he was never worthy of the woman he married!"

"Indeed!" I said, coldly, as this dagger-thrust struck home to myheart. "I only knew him when he was quite a boy. He seemed to me thenof a warm and loving temperament, generous to a fault, perhapsover-credulous, yet he promised well. His father thought so, I confessI thought so too. Reports have reached me from time to time of the carewith which he managed the immense fortune left to him. He gave largesums away in charity, did he not? and was he not a lover of books andsimple pleasures?"

"Oh, I grant you all that!" returned Ferrari, with some impatience. "Hewas the most moral man in immoral Naples, if you care for that sort ofthing. Studious--philosophic--parfait gentilhomme--proud as the devil, virtuous, unsuspecting, and--withal--a fool!"

My temper rose dangerously--but I controlled it, and remembering mypart in the drama I had constructed, I broke into violent, harshlaughter. 

"Bravo!" I exclaimed. "One can easily see what a first-rate youngfellow YOU are! You have no liking for moral men--ha, ha! excellent! Iagree with you. A virtuous man and a fool are synonyms nowadays. Yes--Ihave lived long enough to know that! And here is our coffee--beholdalso the glorias! I drink your health with pleasure, SignorFerrari--you and I must be friends!"

For one moment he seemed startled by my sudden outburst of mirth--thenext, he laughed heartily himself, and as the waiter appeared with thecoffee and cognac, inspired by the occasion, he made an equivocal, slightly indelicate joke concerning the personal charms of a certainAntoinetta whom the garcon was supposed to favor with an eye tomatrimony. The fellow grinned, in nowise offended--and pocketing freshgratuities from both Ferrari and myself, departed on new errands forother customers, apparently in high good humor with himself, Antoinetta, and the world in general. Resuming the interruptedconversation I said:

"And this poor weak-minded Romani--was his death sudden?"

"Remarkably so, " answered Ferrari, leaning back in his chair, andturning his handsome flushed face up to the sky where the stars werebeginning to twinkle out one by ones "it appears from all accounts thathe rose early and went out for a walk on one of those insufferably hotAugust mornings, and at the furthest limit of the villa grounds he cameupon a fruit-seller dying of cholera. Of course, with his quixoticideas, he must needs stay and talk to the boy, and then run like amadman through the heat into Naples, to find a doctor for him. Insteadof a physician he met a priest, and he was taking this priest to theassistance of the fruit-seller (who by the bye died in the meantime andwas past all caring for) when he himself was struck down by the plague. He was carried then and there to a common inn, where in about fivehours he died--all the time shrieking curses on any one who should dareto take him alive or dead inside his own house. He showed good sense inthat at least--naturally he was anxious not to bring the contagion tohis wife and child. "

"Is the child a boy or a girl?" I asked, carelessly. 

"A girl. A mere baby--an uninteresting old-fashioned little thing, verylike her father. "

My poor little Stella. 

Every pulse of my being thrilled with indignation at the indifferentlychill way in which he, the man who had fondled her and pretended tolove her, now spoke of the child. She was, as far as he knew, fatherless; he, no doubt, had good reason to suspect that her mothercared little for her, and, I saw plainly that she was, or soon wouldbe, a slighted and friendless thing in the household. But I made noremark--I sipped my cognac with an abstracted air for a fewseconds--then I asked:

"How was the count buried? Your narrative interests me greatly. "

"Oh, the priest who was with him saw to his burial, and I believe, wasable to administer the last sacraments. At any rate, he had him laidwith all proper respect in his family vault--I myself was present atthe funeral. "

I started involuntarily, but quickly repressed myself. 

"YOU were present--YOU--YOU--" and my voice almost failed me. 

Ferrari raised his eyebrows with a look of surprised inquiry. 

"Of course! You are astonished at that? But perhaps you do notunderstand. I was the count's very closest friend, closer than abrother, I may say. It was natural, even necessary, that I shouldattend his body to its last resting place. "

By this time I had recovered myself. 

"I see--I see!" I muttered, hastily. "Pray excuse me--my age renders menervous of disease in any form, and I should have thought the fear ofcontagion might have weighed with you. "

"With ME!" and he laughed lightly. "I was never ill in my life, and Ihave no dread whatever of cholera. I suppose I ran some risk, though Inever thought about it at the time--but the priest--one of theBenedictine order--died the very next day. "

"Shocking!" I murmured over my coffee-cup. "Very shocking. And youactually entertained no alarm for yourself?"

"None in the least. To tell you the truth, I am armed againstcontagious illnesses, by a conviction I have that I am not doomed todie of any disease. A prophecy"--and here a cloud crossed hisfeatures--"an odd prophecy was made about me when I was born, which, whether it comes true or not, prevents me from panic in days of plague. "

"Indeed!" I said, with interest, for this was news to me. "And may oneask what this prophecy is?"

"Oh, certainly. It is to the effect that I shall die a violent death bythe hand of a once familiar friend. It was always an absurdstatement--an old nurse's tale--but it is now more absurd than ever, considering that the only friend of the kind I ever had or am likely tohave is dead and buried--namely, Fabio Romani. "

And he sighed slightly. I raised my head and looked at him steadily. 

CHAPTER XII. 

The sheltering darkness of the spectacles I wore prevented him fromnoticing the searching scrutiny of my fixed gaze. His face was shadowedby a faint tinge of melancholy; his eyes were thoughtful and almost sad. 

"You loved him well then in spite of his foolishness?" I said. 

He roused himself from the pensive mood into which he had fallen, andsmiled. 

"Loved him? No! Certainly not--nothing so strong as that! I liked himfairly--he bought several pictures of me--a poor artist has always somesort of regard for the man who buys his work. Yes, I liked him wellenough--till he married. "

"Ha! I suppose his wife came between you?" He flushed slightly, anddrank off the remainder of his cognac in haste. 

"Yes, " he replied, briefly, "she came between us. A man is never quitethe same after marriage. But we have been sitting a long timehere--shall we walk?"

He was evidently anxious to change the subject I rose slowly as thoughmy joints were stiff with age, and drew out my watch, a finely jeweledone, to see the time. It was past nine o'clock. 

"Perhaps, " I said, addressing him, "you will accompany me as far as myhotel. I am compelled to retire early as a rule--I suffer much from achronic complaint of the eyes as you perceive, " here touching myspectacles, "and I cannot endure much artificial light. We can talkfurther on our way. Will you give me a chance of seeing your pictures?I shall esteem myself happy to be one of your patrons. "

"A thousand thanks!" he answered, gayly. "I will show you my poorattempts with pleasure. Should you find anything among them to gratifyyour taste, I shall of course be honored. But, thank Heaven! I am notas greedy of patronage as I used to be--in fact I intended resigningthe profession altogether in about six months or so. "

"Indeed! Are you coming into a fortune?" I asked, carelessly. 

"Well--not exactly, " he answered, lightly. "I am going to marryone--that is almost the same thing, is it not?"

"Precisely! I congratulate you!" I said, in a studiously indifferentand slightly bored tone, though my heart pulsed fiercely with thetorrent of wrath pent up within it. I understood his meaning well. Insix months he proposed marrying my wife. Six months was the shortestpossible interval that could be observed, according to socialetiquette, between the death of one husband and the wedding of another, and even that was so short as to be barely decent. Six months--yet inthat space of time much might happen--things undreamed of andundesired--slow tortures carefully measured out, punishment sudden andheavy! Wrapped in these sombre musings I walked beside him in profoundsilence. The moon shone brilliantly; groups of girls danced on theshore with their lovers, to the sound of a flute and mandoline--far offacross the bay the sound of sweet and plaintive singing floated fromsome boat in the distance, to our ears--the evening breathed of beauty, peace and love. But I--my fingers quivered with restrained longing tobe at the throat of the graceful liar who sauntered so easily andconfidently beside me. Ah! Heaven, if he only knew! If he could haverealized the truth, would his face have worn quite so careless asmile--would his manner have been quite so free and dauntless?Stealthily I glanced at him; he was humming a tune softly under hisbreath, but feeling instinctively, I suppose, that my eyes were uponhim, he interrupted the melody and turned to me with the question:

"You have traveled far and seen much, conte!"

"I have. "

"And in what country have you found the most beautiful women!"

"Pardon me, young sir, " I answered, coldly, "the business of life hasseparated me almost entirely from feminine society. I have devotedmyself exclusively to the amassing of wealth, understanding thoroughlythat gold is the key to all things, even to woman's love; if I desiredthat latter commodity, which I do not. I fear that I scarcely know afair face from a plain one--I never was attracted by women, and now atmy age, with my settled habits, I am not likely to alter my opinionconcerning them--and I frankly confess those opinions are the reverseof favorable. "

Ferrari laughed. "You remind me of Fabio!" he said. "He used to talk inthat strain before he was married--though he was young and had none ofthe experiences which may have made you cynical, conte! But he alteredhis ideas very rapidly--and no wonder!"

"Is his wife so very lovely then?" I asked. 

"Very! Delicately, daintily beautiful. But no doubt you will see herfor yourself--as a friend of her late husband's father, you will callupon her, will you not?"

"Why should I?" I said, gruffly--"I have no wish to meet her! Besides, an inconsolable widow seldom cares to receive visitors--I shall notintrude upon her sorrows!"

Never was there a better move than this show of utter indifference Iaffected. The less I appeared to care about seeing the Countess Romani, the more anxious Ferrari was to introduce me--(introduce me!--to mywife!)--and he set to work preparing his own doom with assiduous ardor. 

"Oh, but you must see her!" he exclaimed, eagerly. "She will receiveyou, I am sure, as a special guest. Your age and your formeracquaintance with her late husband's family will win from her theutmost courtesy, believe me! Besides, she is not really inconsolable--"He paused suddenly. We had arrived at the entrance of my hotel. Ilooked at him steadily. 

"Not really inconsolable?" I repeated, in a tone of inquiry ferraribroke into a forced laugh, "Why no!" he said, "What would you? She is young andlight-hearted--perfectly lovely and in the fullness of youth andhealth. One cannot expect her to weep long, especially for a man shedid not care for. "

I ascended the hotel steps. "Pray come in!" I said, with an invitingmovement of my hand. "You must take a glass of wine before you leave. And so--she did not care for him, you say?"

Encouraged by my friendly invitation and manner, Ferrari became more atthis ease than ever, and hooking his arm through mine as we crossed thebroad passage of the hotel together, he replied in a confidential tone:

"My dear conte, how CAN a woman love a man who is forced upon her byher father for the sake of the money he gives her? As I told youbefore, my late friend was utterly insensible to the beauty of hiswife--he was cold as a stone, and preferred his books. Then naturallyshe had no love for him!"

By this time we had reached my apartments, and as I threw open thedoor, I saw that Ferrari was taking in with a critical eye the costlyfittings and luxurious furniture. In answer to this last remark, I saidwith a chilly smile:

"And as _I_ told YOU before, my dear Signor Ferarri, I know nothingwhatever about women, and care less than nothing for their loves orhatreds! I have always thought of them more or less as playful kittens, who purr when they are stroked the right way, and scream and scratchwhen their tails are trodden on. Try this Montepulciano!"

He accepted the glass I proffered him, and tasted the wine with the airof a connoisseur. 

"Exquisite!" he murmured, sipping it lazily. "You are lodged en princehere, conte! I envy you!"

"You need not, " I answered. "You have youth and health, and--as youhave hinted to me--love; all these things are better than wealth, sopeople say. At any rate, youth and health are good things--love I haveno belief in. As for me, I am a mere luxurious animal, loving comfortand ease beyond anything. I have had many trials--I now take my rest inmy own fashion. "

"A very excellent and sensible fashion!" smiled Ferrari, leaning hishead easily back on the satin cushions of the easy-chair into which hehad thrown himself. 

"Do you know, conte, now I look at you well, I think you must have beenvery handsome when you were young! You have a superb figure. '"

I bowed stiffly. "You flatter me, signor! I believe I never wasspecially hideous--but looks in a man always rank second to strength, and of strength I have plenty yet remaining. "

"I do not doubt it, " he returned, still regarding me attentively withan expression in which there was the faintest shadow of uneasiness. 

"It is an odd coincidence, you will say, but I find a mostextraordinary resemblance in the height and carriage of your figure tothat of my late friend Romani. "

I poured some wine out for myself with a steady hand, and drank it. 

"Really?" I answered. "I am glad that I remind you of him--if thereminder is agreeable! But all tall men are much alike so far as figuregoes, providing they are well made. "

Ferrari's brow was contracted in a musing frown and he answered not. Hestill looked at me, and I returned his look without embarrassment. Finally he roused himself, smiled, and finished drinking his glass ofMontepulciano. Then he rose to go. 

"You will permit me to mention your name to the Countess Romani, Ihope?" he said, cordially. "I am certain she will receive you, shouldyou desire it. "

I feigned a sort of vexation, and made an abrupt movement of impatience. 

"The fact is, " I said, at last, "I very much dislike talking to women. They are always illogical, and their frivolity wearies me. But you havebeen so friendly that I will give you a message for the countess--ifyou have no objection to deliver it. I should be sorry to trouble youunnecessarily--and you perhaps will not have an opportunity of seeingher for some days?"

He colored slightly and moved uneasily. Then with a kind of effort, hereplied:

"On the contrary, I am going to see her this very evening. I assure youit will be a pleasure to me to convey to her any greeting you maydesire to send. "

"Oh, it is no greeting, " I continued, calmly, noting the various signsof embarrassment in his manner with a careful eye. "It is a meremessage, which, however, may enable you to understand why I was anxiousto see the young man who is dead. In my very early manhood the elderCount Romani did me an inestimable service. I never forgot hiskindness--my memory is extraordinarily tenacious of both benefits andinjuries--and I have always desired to repay it in some suitablemanner. I have with me a few jewels of almost priceless value--I havemyself collected them, and I reserved them as a present to the son ofmy old friend, simply as a trifling souvenir or expression of gratitudefor past favors received from his family. His sudden death has deprivedme of the pleasure of fulfilling this intention--but as the jewels arequite useless to me, I am perfectly willing to hand them over to theCountess Romani, should she care to have them. They would have beenhers had her husband lived--they should be hers now. If you, signor, will report these facts to her and learn her wishes with respect to thematter, I shall be much indebted to you. "

"I shall be delighted to obey you, " replied Ferrari, courteously, rising at the same time to take his leave. "I am proud to be the bearerof so pleasing an errand. Beautiful women love jewels, and who shallblame them? Bright eyes and diamonds go well together! A rivederci, Signer Conte! I trust we shall meet often. "

"I have no doubt we shall, " I answered, quietly. 

He shook hands cordially--I responded to his farewell salutations withthe brief coldness which was now my habitual manner, and we parted. From the window of my saloon I could see him sauntering easily down thehotel steps and from thence along the street. How I cursed him as hestepped jauntily on--how I hated his debonair grace and easy manner! Iwatched the even poise of his handsome head and shoulders, I noted theassured tread, the air of conscious vanity--the whole demeanor of theman bespoke his perfect self-satisfaction and his absolute confidencein the brightness of the future that awaited him when that stipulatedsix months of pretended mourning for my untimely death should haveexpired. Once, as he walked on his way, he turned and paused--lookingback--he raised his hat to enjoy the coolness of the breeze on hisforehead and hair. The light of the moon fell full on his features andshowed them in profile, like a finely-cut cameo against the densedark-blue background of the evening sky. I gazed at him with a sort ofgrim fascination--the fascination of a hunter for the stag when itstands at bay, just before he draws his knife across its throat. He wasin my power--he had deliberately thrown himself in the trap I had setfor him. He lay at the mercy of one in whom there was no mercy. He hadsaid and done nothing to deter me from my settled plans. Had he shownthe least tenderness of recollection for me as Fabio Romani, his friendand benefactor--had he hallowed my memory by one generous word--had heexpressed one regret for my loss--I might have hesitated, I might havesomewhat changed my course of action so that punishment should havefallen more lightly on him than on her. For I knew well enough thatshe, my wife, was the worst sinner of the two. Had SHE chosen torespect herself, not all the forbidden love in the world could havetouched her honor. Therefore, the least sign of compunction oraffection from Ferrari for me, his supposed dead friend, would haveturned the scale in his favor, and in spite of his treachery, remembering how SHE must have encouraged him, I would at least havespared him torture. But no sign had been given, no word had beenspoken, there was no need for hesitation or pity, and I was glad of it!All this I thought as I watched him standing bareheaded in themoonlight, on his way to--whom? To my wife, of course. I knew that wellenough. He was going to console her widow's tears--to soothe her achingheart--a good Samaritan in very earnest! He moved, he passed slowly outof my sight. I waited till I had seen the last glimpse of hisretreating figure, and then I left the window satisfied with my day'swork. Vengeance had begun. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Quite early in the next day Ferrari called to see me. I was atbreakfast--he apologized for disturbing me at the meal. 

"But, " he explained, frankly, "the Countess Romani laid such urgentcommands upon me that I was compelled to obey. We men are the slaves ofwomen!"

"Not always, " I said, dryly, as I motioned him to take a seat--"thereare exceptions--myself for instance. Will you have some coffee?"

"Thanks, I have already breakfasted. Pray do not let me be in your way, my errand is soon done. The countess wishes me to say--"

"You saw her last night?" I interrupted him. 

He flushed slightly. "Yes--that is--for a few minutes only. I gave heryour message. She thanks you, and desires me to tell you that shecannot think of receiving the jewels unless you will first honor her bya visit. She is not at home to ordinary callers in consequence of herrecent bereavement--but to you, so old a friend of her husband'sfamily, a hearty welcome will be accorded. "

I bowed stiffly. "I am extremely flattered!" I said, in a somewhatsarcastical tone, "it is seldom I receive so tempting an invitation! Iregret that I cannot accept it--at least, not at present. Make mycompliments to the lady, and tell her so in whatever sugared form ofwords you may think best fitted to please her ears. "

He looked surprised and puzzled. 

"Do you really mean, " he said, with a tinge of hauteur in his accents, "that you will not visit her--that you refuse her request?"

I smiled. "I really mean, my dear Signor Ferrari, that, being alwaysaccustomed to have my own way, I can make no exception in favor ofladies, however fascinating they may be. I have business in Naples--itclaims my first and best attention. When it is transacted I maypossibly try a few frivolities for a change--at present I am unfit forthe society of the fair sex--an old battered traveler as you see, brusque, and unaccustomed to polite lying. But I promise you I willpractice suave manners and a court bow for the countess when I canspare time to call upon her. In the meanwhile I trust to you to makeher a suitable and graceful apology for my non-appearance. "

Ferrari's puzzled and vexed expression gave way to a smile--finally helaughed aloud. "Upon my word!" he exclaimed, gayly, "you are really aremarkable man, conte! You are extremely cynical! I am almost inclinedto believe that you positively hate women. "

"Oh, by no means! Nothing so strong as hatred, " I said, coolly, as Ipeeled and divided a fine peach as a finish to my morning's meal. "Hatred is a strong passion--to hate well one must first have loved. No, no--I do not find women worth hating--I am simply indifferent tothem. They seem to me merely one of the burdens imposed on man'sexistence--graceful, neatly packed, light burdens in appearance, but intruth, terribly heavy and soul-crushing. "

"Yet many accept such burdens gayly!" interrupted Ferrari, with asmile. I glanced at him keenly. 

"Men seldom attain the mastery over their own passions, " I replied;"they are in haste to seize every apparent pleasure that comes in theirway, Led by a hot animal impulse which they call love, they snatch at awoman's beauty as a greedy school-boy snatches ripe fruit--and whenpossessed, what is it worth? Here is its emblem"--and I held up thestone of the peach I had just eaten--"the fruit is devoured--whatremains? A stone with a bitter kernel. "

Ferrari shrugged his shoulders. 

"I cannot agree with you, count, " he said; "but I will not argue withyou. From your point of view you may be right--but when one is young, and life stretches before you like a fair pleasure-ground, love and thesmile of woman are like sunlight falling on flowers! You too must havefelt this--in spite of what you say, there must have been a time inyour life when you also loved!"

"Oh, I have had my fancies, of course!" I answered, with an indifferentlaugh. "The woman I fancied turned out to be a saint--I was not worthyof her--at least, so I was told. At any rate, I was so convinced of hervirtue and my own unworthiness--that--I left her. "

He looked surprised. "An odd reason, surely, for resigning her, was itnot?"

"Very odd--very unusual--but a sufficient one for me. Pray let us talkof something more interesting--your pictures, for instance. When may Isee them?"

"When you please, " he answered, readily--"though I fear they arescarcely worth a visit. I have not worked much lately. I really doubtwhether I have any that will merit your notice. "

"You underrate your powers, signor, " I said with formal politeness. "Allow me to call at your studio this afternoon. I have a few minutesto spare between three and four o'clock, if that time will suit you. "

"It will suit me admirably, " he said, with a look of gratification;"but I fear you will be disappointed. I assure you I am no artist. "

I smiled. I knew that well enough. But I made no reply to his remark--Isaid, "Regarding the matter of the jewels for the CountessRomani--would you care to see them?"

"I should indeed, " he answered; "they are unique specimens, I think?"

"I believe so, " I answered, and going to an escritoire in the corner ofthe room, I unlocked it and took out a massive carved oaken jewel-chestof square shape, which I had had made in Palermo. It contained anecklace of large rubies and diamonds, with bracelets to match, andpins of their hair--also a sapphire ring--a cross of finerose-brilliants, and the pearl pendant I had first found in the vault. All the gems, with the exception of this pendant, had been reset by askillful jeweler in Palermo, who had acted under mysuperintendence--and Ferrari uttered an exclamation of astonishment andadmiration as he lifted the glittering toys out one by one and notedthe size and brilliancy of the precious stones. 

"They are trifles, " I said, carelessly--"but they may please a woman'staste--and they amount to a certain fixed value. You would do me agreat service if you consented to take them to the Contessa Romani forme--tell her to accept them as heralds of my forthcoming visit. I amsure you will know how to persuade her to take what wouldunquestionably have been hers had her husband lived. They are reallyher property--she must not refuse to receive what is her own. "

Ferrari hesitated and looked at me earnestly. 

"You--WILL visit her--she may rely on your coming for a certainty, Ihope?"

I smiled. "You seem very anxious about it. May I ask why?"

"I think, " he replied at once, "that it would embarrass the countessvery much if you gave her no opportunity to thank you for so munificentand splendid a gift--and unless she knew she could do so, I am certainshe would not accept it. "

"Make yourself quite easy, " I answered. "She shall thank me to herheart's content. I give you my word that within a few days I will callupon the lady--in fact you said you would introduce me--I accept youroffer!"

He seemed delighted, and seizing my hand, shook it cordially. 

"Then in that case I will gladly take the jewels to her, " he exclaimed. "And I may say, count, that had you searched the whole world over, youcould not have found one whose beauty was more fitted to show them offto advantage. I assure you her loveliness is of a most exquisitecharacter!"

"No doubt!" I said, dryly. "I take your word for it. I am no judge of afair face or form. And now, my good friend, do not think me churlish ifI request you leave me in solitude for the present. Between three andfour o'clock I shall be at your studio. "

He rose at once to take his leave. I placed the oaken box of jewels inthe leathern case which had been made to contain it, strapped andlocked it, and handed it to him together with its key. He was profusein his compliments and thanks--almost obsequious, in truth--and Idiscovered another defect in his character--a defect which, as hisfriend in former days, I had guessed nothing of. I saw that very littleencouragement would make him a toady--a fawning servitor on thewealthy--and in our old time of friendship I had believed him to be farabove all such meanness, but rather of a manly, independent nature thatscorned hypocrisy. Thus we are deluded even by our nearest anddearest--and is it well or ill for us, I wonder, when we are at lastundeceived? Is not the destruction of illusion worse than illusionitself? I thought so, as my quondam friend clasped my hand in farewellthat morning. What would I not have given to believe in him as I oncedid! I held open the door of my room as he passed out, carrying the boxof jewels for my wife, and as I bade him a brief adieu, the well-wornstory of Tristram and Kind Mark came to my mind. He, Guido, likeTristram, would in a short space clasp the gemmed necklace round thethroat of one as fair and false as the fabled Iseulte, and I--should Ifigure as the wronged king? How does the English laureate put it in hisidyl on the subject?

"'Mark's way, ' said Mark, and clove him through the brain. "

Too sudden and sweet a death by far for such a traitor! The Cornishking should have known how to torture his betrayer! I knew--and Imeditated deeply on every point of my design, as I sat alone for anhour after Ferrari had left me. I had many things to do--I had resolvedon making myself a personage of importance in Naples, and I wroteseveral letters and sent out visiting-cards to certain well-establishedfamilies of distinction as necessary preliminaries to the result I hadin view. That day, too, I engaged a valet--a silent and discreet Tuscannamed Vincenzo Flamma. He was an admirably trained servant--he neverasked questions--was too dignified to gossip, and rendered me instantand implicit obedience--in fact he was a gentleman in his way, with farbetter manners than many who lay claim to that title. He entered uponhis duties at once, and never did I know him to neglect the mosttrifling thing that could add to my satisfaction or comfort. In makingarrangements with him, and in attending to various little matters ofbusiness, the hours slipped rapidly away, and in the afternoon, at thetime appointed, I made my way to Ferrari's studio. I knew it of old--Ihad no need to consult the card he had left with me on which theaddress was written. It was a queer, quaintly built little place, situated at the top of an ascending road--its windows commanded anextensive view of the bay and the surrounding scenery. Many and many ahappy hour had I passed there before my marriage reading some favoritebook or watching Ferrari as he painted his crude landscapes andfigures, most of which I good-naturedly purchased as soon as completed. The little porch over-grown with star-jasmine looked strangely andsorrowfully familiar to my eyes, and my heart experienced a sickeningpang of regret for the past, as I pulled the bell and heard the littletinkling sound to which I was so well accustomed. Ferrari himselfopened the door to me with eager rapidity--he looked excited andradiant. 

"Come in, come in!" he cried with effusive cordiality. "You will findeverything in confusion, but pray excuse it. It is some time since Ihad any visitors. Mind the steps, conte!--the place is rather dark justhere--every one stumbles at this particular corner. "

So talking, and laughing as he talked, he escorted me up the shortnarrow flight of stairs to the light airy room where he usually worked. Glancing round it, I saw at once the evidences of neglect anddisorder--he had certainly not been there for many days, though he hadmade an attempt to arrange it tastefully for my reception. On the tablestood a large vase of flowers grouped with artistic elegance--I feltinstinctively that my wife had put them there. I noticed that Ferrarihad begun nothing new--all the finished and unfinished studies I saw Irecognized directly. I seated myself in an easy-chair and looked at mybetrayer with a calmly critical eye. He was what the English would call"got up for effect. " Though in black, he had donned a velvet coatinstead of the cloth one he had worn in the morning--he had a singlewhite japonica in his buttonhole--his face was pale and his eyesunusually brilliant. He looked his best--I admitted it, and couldreadily understand how an idle, pleasure-seeking feminine animal mightbe easily attracted by the purely physical beauty of his form andfeatures. I spoke a part of my thoughts aloud. 

"You are not only an artist by profession, Signer Ferrari--you are onealso in appearance. "

He flushed slightly and smiled. 

"You are very amiable to say so, " he replied, his pleased vanitydisplaying itself at once in the expression of his face. "But I am wellaware that you flatter me. By the way, before I forget it, I must tellyou that I fulfilled your commission. "

"To the Countess Romani?"

"Exactly. I cannot describe to you her astonishment and delight at thesplendor and brilliancy of those jewels you sent her. It was reallypretty to watch her innocent satisfaction. "

I laughed. 

"Marguerite and the jewel song in 'Faust, ' I suppose, with new sceneryand effects?" I asked, with a slight sneer. He bit his lip and lookedannoyed. But he answered, quietly:

"I see you must have your joke, conte; but remember that if you placethe countess in the position of Marguerite, you, as the giver of thejewels, naturally play the part of Mephistopheles. "

"And you will be Faust, of course!" I said, gayly. "Why, we might mountthe opera with a few supernumeraries and astonish Naples by ourperformance! What say you? But let us come to business. I like thepicture you have on the easel there--may I see it more closely?"

He drew it nearer; it was a showy landscape with the light of thesunset upon it. It was badly done, but I praised it warmly, andpurchased it for five hundred francs. Four other sketches of a similarnature were then produced. I bought these also. By the time we gotthrough these matters, Ferrari was in the best of humors. He offered mesome excellent wine and partook of it himself; he talked incessantly, and diverted me extremely, though my inward amusement was not caused bythe witty brilliancy of his conversation. No, I was only excited to asense of savage humor by the novelty of the position in which we twomen stood. Therefore I listened to him attentively, applauded hisanecdotes--all of which I had heard before--admired his jokes, andfooled his egotistical soul till he had no shred of self-respectremaining. He laid his nature bare before me--and I knew what it was atlast--a mixture of selfishness, avarice, sensuality, and heartlessness, tempered now and then by a flash of good-nature and sympatheticattraction which were the mere outcomes of youth and physicalhealth--no more. This was the man I had loved--this fellow who toldcoarse stories only worthy of a common pot-house, and who reveled in awit of a high and questionable flavor; this conceited, empty-headed, muscular piece of humanity was the same being for whom I had cherishedso chivalrous and loyal a tenderness! Our conversation was broken inupon at last by the sound of approaching wheels. A carriage was heardascending the road--it came nearer--it stopped at the door. I set downthe glass of wine I had just raised to my lips, and looked at Ferraristeadily. 

"You expect other visitors?" I inquired. 

He seemed embarrassed, smiled, and hesitated. 

"Well--I am not sure--but--" The bell rang. With a word of apologyFerrari hurried away to answer it. I sprung from my chair--I knew--Ifelt who was coming. I steadied my nerves by a strong effort. Icontrolled the rapid beating of my heart; and fixing my dark glassesmore closely over my eyes, I drew myself up erect and waited calmly. Iheard Ferrari ascending the stairs--a light step accompanied hisheavier footfall--he spoke to his companion in whispers. Anotherinstant--and he flung the door of the studio wide open with the hasteand reverence due for the entrance of a queen. There was a soft rustleof silk--a delicate breath of perfume on the air--and then--I stoodface to face with my wife!

CHAPTER XIV. 

How dazzlingly lovely she was! I gazed at her with the same bewilderedfascination that had stupefied my reason and judgment when I beheld herfor the first time. The black robes she wore, the long crape veilthrown back from her clustering hair and mignonne face, all the sombershadows of her mourning garb only served to heighten and display herbeauty to greater advantage. A fair widow truly! I, her lately deceasedhusband, freely admitted the magnetic power of her charms! She pausedfor an instant on the threshold, a winning smile on her lips; shelooked at me, hesitated, and finally spoke in courteous accents:

"I think I cannot be mistaken! Do I address the noble Conte CesareOliva?"

I tried to speak, but could not. My mouth was dry and parched withexcitement, my throat swelled and ached with the pent-up wrath anddespair of my emotions. I answered her question silently by a formalbow. She at once advanced, extending both her hands with the coaxinggrace of manner I had so often admired. 

"I am the Countess Romani, " she said, still smiling. "I heard fromSignor Ferrari that you purposed visiting his studio this afternoon, and I could not resist the temptation of coming to express my personalacknowledgments for the almost regal gift you sent me. The jewels arereally magnificent. Permit me to offer you my sincere thanks!"

I caught her outstretched hands and wrung them hard--so hard that therings she wore must have dug into her flesh and hurt her, though shewas too well-bred to utter any exclamation. I had fully recoveredmyself, and was prepared to act out my part. 

"On the contrary, madame, " I said in a strong harsh voice, "the thanksmust come entirely from me for the honor you have conferred upon me byaccepting trifles so insignificant--especially at a time when the coldbrilliancy of mere diamonds must jar upon the sensitive feelings ofyour recent widowhood. Believe me, I sympathize deeply with yourbereavement. Had your husband lived, the jewels would have been hisgift to you, and how much more acceptable they would then have appearedin your eyes! I am proud to think you have condescended so far as toreceive them from so unworthy a hand as mine. "

As I spoke her face paled--she seemed startled, and regarded meearnestly. Sheltered behind my smoked spectacles, I met the gaze of herlarge dark eyes without embarrassment. Slowly she withdrew her slightfingers from my clasp. I placed an easy chair for her, she sunk softlyinto it with her old air of indolent ease, the ease of a spoiledempress or sultan's favorite, while she still continued to look up atme thoughtfully Ferrari, meanwhile, busied himself in bringing out morewine, he also produced a dish of fruit and some sweet cakes, and whileoccupied in these duties as our host he began to laugh. 

"Ha, ha! you are caught!" he exclaimed to me gayly. "You must know weplanned this together, madame and I, just to take you by surprise. There was no knowing when you would be persuaded to visit the contessa, and she could not rest till she had thanked you, so we arranged thismeeting. Could anything be better? Come, conte, confess that you arecharmed!"

"Of course I am!" I answered with a slight touch of satire in my tone. "Who would not be charmed in the presence of such youth and beauty! AndI am also flattered--for I know what exceptional favor the ContessaRomani extends toward me in allowing me to make her acquaintance at atime which must naturally be for her a secluded season of sorrow. "

At these words my wife's face suddenly assumed an expression of wistfulsadness and appealing gentleness. 

"Ah, poor unfortunate Fabio, " she sighed. "How terrible it seems thathe is not here to greet you! How gladly he would have welcomed anyfriend of his father's--he adored his father, poor fellow! I cannotrealize that he is dead. It was too sudden, too dreadful! I do notthink I shall ever recover the shock of his loss!"

And her eyes actually filled with tears; though the fact did notsurprise me in the least, for many women can weep at will. Very littlepractice is necessary--and we men are such fools, we never know how itis done; we take all the pretty feigned piteousness for real grief, andtorture ourselves to find methods of consolation for the femininesorrows which have no root save in vanity and selfishness. I glancedquickly from my wife to Ferrari: he coughed, and appearedembarrassed--he was not so good an actor as she was an actress. Studying them both, I know not which feeling gained the mastery in mymind--contempt or disgust. 

"Console yourself, madame, " I said, coldly. "Time should be quick toheal the wounds of one so young and beautiful as you are! Personallyspeaking, I much regret your husband's death, but I would entreat YOUnot to give way to grief, which, however sincere, must unhappily beuseless. Your life lies before you--and may happy days and as fair afuture await you as you deserve!"

She smiled, her tear-drops vanished like morning dew disappearing inthe heat. 

"I thank you for your good wishes, conte, " she said "but it rests withyou to commence my happy days by honoring me with a visit. You willcome, will you not? My house and all that it contains are at yourservice!"

I hesitated. Ferrari looked amused. 

"Madame is not aware of your dislike to the society of ladies, conte, "he said, and there was a touch of mockery in his tone. I glanced at himcoldly, and addressed my answer to my wife. 

"Signor Ferrari is perfectly right, " I said, bending over her, andspeaking in a low tone; "I am often ungallant enough to avoid thesociety of mere women, but, alas! I have no armor of defense againstthe smile of an angel. "

And I bowed with a deep and courtly reverence. Her face brightened--sheadored her own loveliness, and the desire of conquest awoke in herimmediately. She took a glass of wine from my hand with a languidgrace, and fixed her glorious eyes full on me with a smile. 

"That is a very pretty speech, " she said, sweetly, "and it means, ofcourse, that you will come to-morrow. Angels exact obedience! Gui--, Imean Signor Ferrari, you will accompany the conte and show him the wayto the villa?"

Ferrari bent his head with some stiffness. He looked slightly sullen. 

"I am glad to see, " he observed, with some petulance, "that yourpersuasions have carried more conviction to the Conte Oliva than mine. To me he was apparently inflexible. "

She laughed gayly. "Of course! It is only a woman who can always winher own way--am I not right, conte?" And she glanced up at me with anarch expression of mingled mirth and malice. What a love of mischiefshe had! She saw that Guido was piqued, and she took intense delight inteasing him still further. 

"I cannot tell, madame, " I answered her. "I know so little of yourcharming sex that I need to be instructed. But I instinctively feelthat YOU must be right, whatever you say. Your eyes would convert aninfidel!"

Again she looked at me with one of those wonderfully brilliant, seductive, arrowy glances--then she rose to take her leave. 

"An angel's visit truly, " I said, lightly, "sweet, but brief!"

"We shall meet to-morrow, " she replied, smiling. "I consider I haveyour promise; you must not fail me! Come as early as you like in theafternoon, then you will see my little girl Stella. She is very likepoor Fabio. Till to-morrow, adieu!"

She extended her hand. I raised it to my lips. She smiled as shewithdrew it, and looking at me, or rather at the glasses I wore, sheinquired:

"You suffer with your eyes?"

"Ah, madame, a terrible infirmity! I cannot endure the light. But Ishould not complain--it is a weakness common to age. "

"You do not seem to be old, " she said, thoughtfully. With a woman'squick eye she had noted, I suppose, the unwrinkled smoothness of myskin, which no disguise could alter. But I exclaimed with affectedsurprise:

"Not old! With these white hairs!"

"Many young men have them, " she said. "At any rate, they oftenaccompany middle age, or what is called the prime of life. And really, in your case, they are very becoming!"

And with a courteous gesture of farewell she moved to leave the room. Both Ferrari and myself hastened to escort her downstairs to hercarriage, which stood in waiting at the door--the very carriage andpair of chestnut ponies which I myself had given her as a birthdaypresent. Ferrari offered to assist her in mounting the step of thevehicle; she put his arm aside with a light jesting word and acceptedmine instead. I helped her in, and arranged her embroidered wraps abouther feet, and she nodded gayly to us both as we stood bareheaded in theafternoon sunlight watching her departure. The horses started at abrisk canter, and in a couple of minutes the dainty equipage was out ofsight. When nothing more of it could be seen than the cloud of duststirred up by its rolling wheels, I turned to look at my companion. Hisface was stern, and his brows were drawn together in a frown. Stungalready! I thought. Already the little asp of jealousy commenced itsbitter work! The trifling favor HIS light-o'-love and MY wife hadextended to me in choosing MY arm instead of HIS as a momentary supporthad evidently been sufficient to pique his pride. God! what blind batsmen are! With all their high capabilities and immortal destinies, withall the world before them to conquer, they can sink unnerved and beatendown to impotent weakness before the slighting word or insolent gestureof a frivolous feminine creature, whose best devotions are paid to themirror that reflects her in the most becoming light! How easy would bemy vengeance, I mused, as I watched Ferrari. I touched him on theshoulder; he started from his uncomfortable reverie and forced a smile. I held out a cigar-case. 

"What are you dreaming of?" I asked him, laughingly. "Hebe as shewaited on the gods, or Venus as she rose in bare beauty from the waves?Either, neither, or both? I assure you a comfortable smoke is aspleasant in its way as the smile of a woman. "

He took a cigar and lighted it, but made no answer. 

"You are dull, my friend, " I continued, gayly, hooking my arm throughhis and pacing him up and down on the turf in front of his studio. "Wit, they say, should be sharpened by the glance of a bright eye; howcomes it that the edge of your converse seems blunted? Perhaps yourfeelings are too deep for words? If so, I do not wonder at it, for thelady is extremely lovely. "

He glanced quickly at me. 

"Did I not say so?" he exclaimed. "Of all creatures under heaven she issurely the most perfect! Even you, conte, with your cynical ideas aboutwomen, even you were quite subdued and influenced by her; I could seeit!"

I puffed slowly at my cigar and pretended to meditate. 

"Was I?" I said at last, with an air of well-acted surprise. "Reallysubdued and influenced? I do not think so. But I admit I have neverseen a woman so entirely beautiful. "

He stopped in his walk, loosened his arm from mine, and regarded mefixedly. 

"I told you so, " he said, deliberately. "You must remember that I toldyou so. And now perhaps I ought to warn you. "

"Warn me!" I exclaimed, in feigned alarm. "Of what? against whom?Surely not the Contessa Romani, to whom you were so anxious tointroduce me? She has no illness, no infectious disorder? She is notdangerous to life or limb, is she?"

Ferrari laughed at the anxiety I displayed for my own bodily safety--ananxiety which I managed to render almost comic--but he looked somewhatrelieved too. 

"Oh, no, " he said, "I meant nothing of that kind. I only think it fairto tell you that she has very seductive manners, and she may pay youlittle attentions which would flatter any man who was not aware thatthey are only a part of her childlike, pretty ways; in short, theymight lead him erroneously to suppose himself the object of herparticular preference, and--"

I broke into a violent fit of laughter, and clapped him roughly on theshoulder. 

"Your warning is quite unnecessary, my good young friend, " I said. "Come now, do I look a likely man to attract the attention of an adoredand capricious beauty? Besides, at my age the idea is monstrous! Icould figure as her father, as yours, if you like, but in the capacityof a lover--impossible!"

He eyed me attentively

"She said you did not seem old, " he murmured, half to himself and halfto me. 

"Oh, I grant you she made me that little compliment, certainly, " Ianswered, amused at the suspicions that evidently tortured his mind;"and I accepted it as it was meant--in kindness. I am well aware what abattered and unsightly wreck of a man I must appear in her eyes whencontrasted with YOU, Sir Antinous!"

He flushed warmly. Then, with a half-apologetic air, he said:

"Well, you must forgive me if I have seemed overscrupulous. Thecontessa is like a--a sister to me; in fact, my late friend Fabioencouraged a fraternal affection between us, and now he is gone I feelit more than ever my duty to protect her, as it were, from herself. Sheis so young and light-hearted and thoughtless that--but you understandme, do you not?"

I bowed. I understood him perfectly. He wanted no more poachers on theland he himself had pilfered. Quite right, from his point of view! ButI was the rightful owner of the land after all, and I naturally had adifferent opinion of the matter. However, I made no remark, and feignedto be rather bored by the turn the conversation was taking. Seeingthis, Ferrari exerted himself to be agreeable; he became a gay andentertaining companion once more, and after he had fixed the hour forour visit to the Villa Romani the next afternoon, our talk turned uponvarious matters connected with Naples and its inhabitants and theirmode of life. I hazarded a few remarks on the general immorality andloose principles that prevailed among the people, just to draw mycompanion out and sound his character more thoroughly--though I thoughtI knew his opinions well. 

"Pooh, my dear conte, " he exclaimed, with a light laugh, as he threwaway the end of his cigar, and watched it as it burned dully like alittle red lamp among the green grass where it had fallen, "what isimmorality after all? Merely a matter of opinion. Take the hackneyedvirtue of conjugal fidelity. When followed out to the better end whatis the good of it--where does it lead? Why should a man be tied to onewoman when he has love enough for twenty? The pretty slender girl whomhe chose as a partner in his impulsive youth may become a fat, coarse, red-faced female horror by the time he has attained to the full vigorof manhood--and yet, as long as she lives, the law insists that thefull tide of passion shall flow always in one direction--always to thesame dull, level, unprofitable shore! The law is absurd, but it exists;and the natural consequence is that we break it. Society pretends to behorrified when we do--yes, I know; but it is all pretense. And thething is no worse in Naples than it is in London, the capital of themoral British race, only here we are perfectly frank, and make noeffort to hide our little sins, while there, they cover them upcarefully and make believe to be virtuous. It is the veriesthumbug--the parable of Pharisee and Publican over again. 

"Not quite, " I observed, "for the Publican was repentant, and Naples isnot. "

"Why should she be?" demanded Ferrari, gayly; "what, in the name ofHeaven, is the good of being penitent about anything? Will it mendmatters? Who is to be pacified or pleased by our contrition? God? Mydear conte, there are very few of us nowadays who believe in a Deity. Creation is a mere caprice of the natural elements. The best thing wecan do is to enjoy ourselves while we live; we have a very short timeof it, and when we die there is an end of all things so far as we areconcerned. "

"That is your creed?" I asked. 

"That is my creed, certainly. It was Solomon's in his heart of hearts. 'Eat, drink and be merry, for to-morrow we die. ' It is the creed ofNaples, and of nearly all Italy. Of course the vulgar still cling toexploded theories of superstitious belief, but the educated classes arefar beyond the old-world notions. "

"I believe you, " I answered, composedly. I had no wish to argue withhim; I only sought to read his shallow soul through and through that Imight be convinced of his utter worthlessness. "According to moderncivilization there is really no special need to be virtuous unless itsuits us. The only thing necessary for pleasant living is to avoidpublic scandal. "

"Just so!" agreed Ferrari; "and that can always be easily managed. Takea woman's reputation--nothing is so easily lost, we all know, beforeshe is actually married; but marry her well, and she is free. She canhave a dozen lovers if she likes, and if she is a good manager herhusband need never be the wiser. He has HIS amours, of course--whyshould she not have hers also? Only some women are clumsy, they areover-sensitive and betray themselves too easily; then the injuredhusband (carefully concealing his little peccadilloes) finds everythingout and there is a devil of a row--a moral row, which is the worst kindof row. But a really clever woman can always steer clear of slander ifshe likes. "

Contemptible ruffian! I thought, glancing at his handsome face andfigure with scarcely veiled contempt. With all his advantages ofeducation and his well-bred air he was yet ruffian to the core--as lowin nature, if not lower, than the half-savage tramp for whom no sociallaw has ever existed or ever will exist. But I merely observed:

"It is easy to see that you have a thorough knowledge of the world andits ways. I admire your perception! From your remarks I judge that youhave no sympathy with marital wrongs?"

"Not the least, " he replied, dryly; "they are too common and tooludicrous. The 'wronged husband, ' as he considers himself in suchcases, always cuts such an absurd figure. "

"Always?" I inquired, with apparent curiosity. 

"Well, generally speaking, he does. How can he remedy the matter? Hecan only challenge his wife's lover. A duel is fought in which neitherof the opponents are killed, they wound each other slightly, embrace, weep, have coffee together, and for the future consent to share thelady's affections amicably. "

"Veramente!" I exclaimed, with a forced laugh, inwardly cursing hisdetestable flippancy; "that is the fashionable mode of takingvengeance?"

"Absolutely the one respectable way of doing it, " he replied; "it isonly the canaille who draw heart's blood in earnest. "

Only the canaille! I looked at him fixedly. His smiling eyes met minewith a frank and fearless candor. Evidently he was not ashamed of hisopinions, he rather gloried in them. As he stood there with the warmsunlight playing upon his features he seemed the very type of youthfuland splendid manhood; an Apollo in exterior--in mind a Silenus. My soulsickened at the sight of him. I felt that the sooner this strongtreacherous life was crushed the better; there would be one traitorless in the world at any rate. The thought of my dread but just purposepassed over me like the breath of a bitter wind--a tremor shook mynerves. My face must have betrayed some sign of my inward emotion, forFerrari exclaimed:

"You are fatigued, conte? You are ill! Pray take my arm!"

He extended it as he spoke. I put it gently but firmly aside. 

"It is nothing, " I said, coldly; "a mere faintness which oftenovercomes me, the remains of a recent illness. " Here I glanced at mywatch; the afternoon was waning rapidly. 

"If you will excuse me, " I continued, "I will now take leave of you. Regarding the pictures you have permitted me to select, my servantshall call for them this evening to save you the trouble of sendingthem. "

"It is no trouble--" began Ferrari. 

"Pardon me, " I interrupted him; "you must allow me to arrange thematter in my own way. I am somewhat self-willed, as you know. "

He bowed and smiled--the smile of a courtier and sycophant--a smile Ihated. He eagerly proposed to accompany me back to my hotel, but Ideclined this offer somewhat peremptorily, though at the same timethanking him for his courtesy. The truth was I had had almost too muchof his society; the strain on my nerves began to tell; I craved to bealone. I felt that if I were much longer with him I should be temptedto spring at him and throttle the life out of him. As it was, I badehim adieu with friendly though constrained politeness; he was profusein his acknowledgments of the favor I had done him by purchasing hispictures. I waived all thanks aside, assuring him that my satisfactionin the matter far exceeded his, and that I was proud to be thepossessor of such valuable proofs of his genius. He swallowed myflattery as eagerly as a fish swallows bait, and we parted on excellentterms. He watched me from his door as I walked down the hilly road withthe slow and careful step of an elderly man; once out of his sight, however, I quickened my pace, for the tempest of conflicting sensationswithin me made it difficult for me to maintain even the appearance ofcomposure. On entering my apartment at the hotel the first thing thatmet my eyes was a large gilt osier basket, filled with fine fruit andflowers, placed conspicuously on the center-table. 

I summoned my valet. "Who sent this?" I demanded. 

"Madame the Contessa Romani, " replied Vincenzo with discreet gravity. "There is a card attached, if the eccelenza will be pleased to look. "

I did look. It was my wife's visiting-card, and on it was written inher own delicate penmanship--

"To remind the conte of his promised visit to-morrow. "

A sudden anger possessed me. I crumpled up the dainty glossy bit ofpasteboard and flung it aside. The mingled odors of the fruit andflowers offended my senses. 

"I care nothing for these trifles, " I said, addressing Vincenzo almostimpatiently. "Take them to the little daughter of the hotel-keeper; sheis a child, she will appreciate them. Take them away at once. "

Obediently Vincenzo lifted the basket and bore it out of the room. Iwas relieved when its fragrance and color had vanished. I, to receiveas a gift, the product of my own garden! Half vexed, half sore atheart, I threw myself into an easychair--anon I laughed aloud! So!Madame commences the game early, I thought. Already paying these markedattentions to a man she knows nothing of beyond that he is reported tobe fabulously wealthy. Gold, gold forever! What will it not do! It willbring the proud to their knees, it will force the obstinate to servilecompliance, it will conquer aversion and prejudice. The world is aslave to its yellow glitter, and the love of woman, that perishablearticle of commerce, is ever at its command. Would you obtain a kissfrom a pair of ripe-red lips that seem the very abode of honeyedsweetness? Pay for it then with a lustrous diamond; the larger the gemthe longer the kiss! The more diamonds you give, the more caresses youwill get. The jeunesse doree who ruin themselves and their ancestralhomes for the sake of the newest and prettiest female puppet on thestage know this well enough. I smiled bitterly as I thought of thelanguid witching look my wife had given me when she said, "You do notseem to be old!" I knew the meaning of her eyes; I had not studiedtheir liquid lights and shadows so long for nothing. My road to revengewas a straight and perfectly smooth line--almost too smooth. I couldhave wished for some difficulty, some obstruction; but there wasnone--absolutely none. The traitors walked deliberately into the trapset for them. Over and over again I asked myself quietly and in coldblood--was there any reason why I should have pity on them? Had theyshown one redeeming point in their characters? Was there any nobleness, any honesty, any real sterling good quality in either of them tojustify my consideration? And always the answer came, NO! Hollow to theheart's core, hypocrites both, liars both--even the guilty passion theycherished for one another had no real earnestness in it save thepursuit of present pleasure; for she, Nina, in that fatal interview inthe avenue where I had been a tortured listener, had hinted at thepossibility of tiring of her lover, and HE had frankly declared to methat very day that it was absurd to suppose a man could be true to onewoman all his life. In brief, they deserved their approaching fate. Such men as Guido and such women as my wife, are, I know, common enoughin all classes of society, but they are not the less perniciousanimals, meriting extermination as much, if not more, than the lessharmful beasts of prey. The poor beasts at any rate tell no lies, andafter death their skins are of some value; but who shall measure themischief done by a false tongue--and of what use is the corpse of aliar save to infect the air with pestilence? I used to wonder at thesuperiority of men over the rest of the animal creation, but I see nowthat it is chiefly gained by excess of selfish cunning. The bulky, good-natured, ignorant lion who has only one honest way of defendinghimself, namely with tooth and claw, is no match for the jumpingtwo-legged little rascal who hides himself behind a bush and fires agun aimed direct at the bigger brute's heart. Yet the lion's mode ofbattle is the braver of the two, and the cannons, torpedoes and otherimplements of modern warfare are proofs of man's cowardice and crueltyas much as they are of his diabolical ingenuity. Calmly comparing theordinary lives of men and beasts--judging them by their abstractvirtues merely--I am inclined to think the beasts the more respectableof the two!

CHAPTER XV. 

"Welcome to Villa Romani!"

The words fell strangely on my ears. Was I dreaming, or was I actuallystanding on the smooth green lawn of my own garden, mechanicallysaluting my own wife, who, smiling sweetly, uttered this cordialgreeting? For a moment or two my brain became confused; the familiarveranda with its clustering roses and jasmine swayed unsteadily beforemy eyes; the stately house, the home of my childhood, the scene of mypast happiness, rocked in the air as though it were about to fall. Achoking sensation affected my throat. Even the sternest men shed tearssometimes. Such tears too! wrung like drops of blood from the heart. And I--I could have wept thus. Oh, the dear old home! and how fair andyet how sad it seemed to my anguished gaze! It should have been inruins surely--broken and cast down in the dust like its master's peaceand honor. Its master, did I say? Who was its master? Involuntarily Iglanced at Ferrari, who stood beside me. Not he--not he; by Heaven heshould never be master! But where was MY authority? I came to the placeas a stranger and an alien. The starving beggar who knows not where tolay his head has no emptier or more desolate heart than I had as Ilooked wistfully on the home which was mine before I died! I noticedsome slight changes here and there; for instance, my deep easy-chairthat had always occupied one particular corner of the veranda was gone;a little tame bird that I had loved, whose cage used to hang up amongthe white roses on the wall, was also gone. My old butler, the servantwho admitted Ferrari and myself within the gates, had an expression ofweariness and injury on his aged features which he had not worn in mytime, and which I was sorry to see. And my dog, the noble black Scotchcolly, what had become of him, I wondered? He had been presented to meby a young Highlander who had passed one winter with me in Rome, andwho, on returning to his native mountains, had sent me the dog, aperfect specimen of its kind, as a souvenir of our friendlyintercourse. Poor Wyvis! I thought. Had they made away with him?Formerly he had always been visible about the house or garden; hisfavorite place was on the lowest veranda step, where he loved to baskin the heat of the sun. And now he was nowhere visible. I was mutelyindignant at his disappearance, but I kept strict watch over myfeelings, and remembered in time the part I had to play. 

"Welcome to Villa Romani!" so said my wife. Then, remarking my silenceas I looked about me, she added with a pretty coaxing air, "I am afraid after all you are sorry you have come to see me!"

I smiled. It served my purpose now to be as gallant and agreeable as Icould; therefore I answered:

"Sorry, madame! If I were, then should I be the most ungrateful of allmen! Was Dante sorry, think you, when he was permitted to beholdParadise?"

She blushed; her eyes drooped softly under their long curling lashes. Ferrari frowned impatiently--but was silent. She led the way into thehouse--into the lofty cool drawing-room, whose wide windows opened outto the garden. Here all was the same as ever with the exception of onething--a marble bust of myself as a boy had been removed. The grandpiano was open, the mandoline lay on a side-table, looking as though ithad been recently used; there were fresh flowers and ferns in all thetall Venetian glass vases. I seated myself and remarked on the beautyof the house and its surroundings. 

"I remember it very well, " I added, quietly. 

"You remember it!" exclaimed Ferrari, quickly, as though surprised. 

"Certainly. I omitted to tell you, my friend, that I used to visit thisspot often when a boy. The elder Conte Romani and myself played aboutthese grounds together. The scene is quite familiar to me. "

Nina listened with an appearance of interest. 

"Did you ever see my late husband?" she asked. 

"Once, " I answered her, gravely. "He was a mere child at the time, and, as far as I could discern, a very promising one. His father seemedgreatly attached to him. I knew his mother also. "

"Indeed, " she exclaimed, settling herself on a low ottoman and fixingher eyes upon me; "what was she like?"

I paused a moment before replying. Could I speak of that unstainedsacred life of wifehood and motherhood to this polluted though lovelycreature?

"She was a beautiful woman unconscious of her beauty, " I answered atlast. "There, all is said. Her sole aim seemed to be to forget herselfin making others happy, and to surround her home with an atmosphere ofgoodness and virtue. She died young. "

Ferrari glanced at me with an evil sneer in his eyes. 

"That was fortunate, " he said. "She had no time to tire of her husband, else--who knows?"

My blood rose rapidly to an astonishing heat, but I controlled myself. 

"I do not understand you, " I said, with marked frigidity. "The lady Ispeak of lived and died under the old regime of noblesse oblige. I amnot so well versed in modern social forms of morality as yourself. "

Nina hastily interposed. "Oh, my dear conte, " she said, laughingly, "pay no attention to Signor Ferrari! He is rash sometimes, and saysvery foolish things, but he really does not mean them. It is only hisway! My poor dear husband used to be quite vexed with him sometimes, though he WAS so fond of him. But, conte, as you know so much about thefamily, I am sure you will like to see my little Stella. Shall I sendfor her, or are you bored by children?"

"On the contrary, madame, I am fond of them, " I answered, with forcedcomposure, though my heart throbbed with mingled delight and agony atthe thought of seeing my little one again. "And the child of my oldfriend's son must needs have a double interest for me. "

My wife rang the bell, and gave orders to the maid who answered it tosend her little girl to her at once. Ferrari meanwhile engaged me inconversation, and strove, I could see, by entire deference to myopinions, to make up for any offense his previous remark might havegiven. A few moments passed--and then the handle of the drawing-roomdoor was timidly turned by an evidently faltering and unpracticed hand. Nina called out impatiently--"Come in, baby! Do not be afraid--comein!" With that the door slowly opened and my little daughter entered. Though I had been so short a time absent from her it was easy to seethe child had changed very much. Her face looked pinched andwoe-begone, its expression was one of fear and distrust. The laughterhad faded out of her young eyes, and was replaced by a serious look ofpained resignation that was pitiful to see in one of her tender years. Her mouth drooped plaintively at the corners--her whole demeanor had anappealing anxiety in it that spoke plainly to my soul and enlightenedme as to the way she had evidently been forgotten and neglected. Sheapproached us hesitatingly, but stopped half-way and looked doubtfullyat Ferrari. He met her alarmed gaze with a mocking smile. 

"Come along, Stella!" he said. "You need not be frightened! I will notscold you unless you are naughty. Silly child! you look as if I werethe giant in the fairy tale, going to eat you up for dinner. Come andspeak to this gentleman--he knew your papa. "

At this word her eyes brightened, her small steps grew more assured andsteady--she advanced and put her tiny hand in mine. The touch of thesoft, uncertain little fingers almost unmanned me. I drew her toward meand lifted her on my knee. Under pretense of kissing her I hid my facefor a second or two in her clustering fair curls, while I forced backthe womanish tears that involuntarily filled my eyes. My poor littledarling! I wonder now how I maintained my set composure before theinnocent thoughtfulness of her gravely questioning gaze! I had fanciedshe might possibly be scared by the black spectacles I wore--childrenare frightened by such things sometimes--but she was not. No; she saton my knee with an air of perfect satisfaction, though she looked at meso earnestly as almost to disturb my self-possession. Nina and Ferrariwatched her with some amusement, but she paid no heed to them--shepersisted in staring at me. Suddenly a slow sweet smile--the tranquilsmile of a contented baby, dawned all over her face; she extended herlittle arms, and, of her own accord, put up her lips to kiss me! Halfstartled at this manifestation of affection, I hurriedly caught her tomy heart and returned her caress, then I looked furtively at my wifeand Guido. Had they any suspicion? No! why should they have any? Hadnot Ferrari himself seen me BURIED? Reassured by this thought Iaddressed myself to Stella, making my voice as gratingly harsh as Icould, for I dreaded the child's quick instinct. 

"You are a very charming little lady!" I said, playfully. "And so yourname is Stella? That is because you are a little star, I suppose?"

She became meditative. "Papa said I was, " she answered, softly andshyly. 

"Papa spoiled you!" interposed Nina, pressing a filmy black-borderedhandkerchief to her eyes. "Poor papa! You were not so naughty to him asyou are to me. "

The child's lip quivered, but she was silent. 

"Oh, fy!" I murmured, half chidingly. "Are you ever naughty? Surelynot! All little stars are good--they never cry--they are always brightand calm. "

Still she remained mute--a sigh, deep enough for an older sufferer, heaved her tiny breast. She leaned her head against my arm and raisedher eyes appealingly. 

"Have you seen my papa?" she asked, timidly. "Will he come back soon?"

For a moment I did not answer her. Ferrari took it upon himself toreply roughly. "Don't talk nonsense, baby! You know your papa has goneaway--you were too naughty for him, and he will never come back again. He has gone to a place where there are no tiresome little girls totease him. "

Thoughtless and cruel words! I at once understood the secret grief thatweighed on the child's mind. Whenever she was fretful or petulant, theyevidently impressed it upon her that her father had left her because ofher naughtiness. She had taken this deeply to heart; no doubt she hadbrooded upon it in her own vague childish fashion, and had puzzled herlittle brain as to what she could possibly have done to displease herfather so greatly that he had actually gone away never to return. Whatever her thoughts were, she did not on this occasion give vent tothem by tears or words. She only turned her eyes on Ferrari with a lookof intense pride and scorn, strange to see in so little a creature--atrue Romani look, such as I had often noticed in my father's eyes, andsuch as I knew must be frequently visible in my own. Ferrari saw it, and burst out laughing loudly. 

"There!" he exclaimed. "Like that she exactly resembles her father! Itis positively ludicrous! Fabio, all over! She only wants one thing tomake the portrait perfect. " And approaching her, he snatched one of herlong curls and endeavored to twist it over her mouth in the form of amustache. The child struggled angrily, and hid her face against mycoat. The more she tried to defend herself the greater the malice withwhich Ferrari tormented her. Her mother did not interfere--she onlylaughed. I held the little thing closely sheltered in my embrace, andsteadying down the quiver of indignation in my voice, I said with quietfirmness:

"Fair play, signor! Fair play! Strength becomes mere bullying when itis employed against absolute weakness. "

Ferrari laughed again, but this time uneasily, and ceasing hismonkeyish pranks, walked to the window. Smoothing Stella's tumbledhair, I added with a sarcastic smile:

"This little donzella, will have her revenge when she grows up. Recollecting how one man teased her in childhood, she, in return, willconsider herself justified in teasing all men. Do you not agree withme, madame?" I said, turning to my wife, who gave me a sweetlycoquettish look as she answered:

"Well, really, conte, I do not know! For with the remembrance of oneman who teased her, must come also the thought of another who was kindto her--yourself--she will find it difficult to decide the justemilieu. "

A subtle compliment was meant to be conveyed in these words. Iacknowledged it by a silent gesture of admiration, which she quicklyunderstood and accepted. Was ever a man in the position of beingdelicately flattered by his own wife before? I think not! Generallymarried persons are like candid friends--fond of telling each othervery unpleasant truths, and altogether avoiding the least soupcon offlattery. Though I was not so much flattered as amused--considering theposition of affairs. Just then a servant threw open the door andannounced dinner. I set my child very gently down from my knee andwhisperingly told her that I would come and see her soon again. Shesmiled trustfully, and then in obedience to her mother's imperativegesture, slipped quietly out of the room. As soon as she had gone Ipraised her beauty warmly, for she was really a lovely littlething--but I could see my admiration of her was not very acceptable toeither my wife or her lover. We all went in to dinner--I, as guest, having the privilege of escorting my fair and spotless spouse! On ourreaching the dining-room Nina said--

"You are such an old friend of the family, conte, that perhaps you willnot mind sitting at the head of the table?"

"Tropp' onore, signora!" I answered, bowing gallantly, as I at onceresumed my rightful place at my own table, Ferrari placing himself onmy right hand, Nina on my left. The butler, my father's servant andmine, stood as of old behind my chair, and I noticed that each time hesupplied me with wine he eyed me with a certain timid curiosity--but Iknew I had a singular and conspicuous appearance, which easilyaccounted for his inquisitiveness. Opposite to where I sat, hung myfather's portrait--the character I personated permitted me to look atit fixedly and give full vent to the deep sigh which in very earnestbroke from my heart. The eyes of the picture seemed to gaze into minewith a sorrowful compassion--almost I fancied the firm-set lipstrembled and moved to echo my sigh. 

"Is that a good likeness?" Ferrari asked, suddenly. 

I started, and recollecting myself, answered: "Excellent! So true aresemblance that it arouses along train of memories in mymind--memories both bitter and sweet. Ah! what a proud fellow he was!"

"Fabio was also very proud, " chimed in my wife's sweet voice. "Verycold and haughty. "

Little liar! How dared she utter this libel on my memory! Haughty, Imight have been to others, but never to her--and coldness was no partof my nature. Would that it were! Would that I had been a pillar ofice, incapable of thawing in the sunlight of her witching smile! Hadshe forgotten what a slave I was to her? what a poor, adoring, passionate fool I became under the influence of her hypocriticalcaresses! I thought this to myself, but I answered aloud:

"Indeed! I am surprised to hear that. The Romani hauteur had ever to mymind something genial and yielding about it--I know my friend wasalways most gentle to his dependents. "

The butler here coughed apologetically behind his hand--an old trick ofhis, and one which signified his intense desire to speak. 

Ferrari laughed, as he held out his glass for more wine. 

"Here is old Giacomo, " he said, nodding to him lightly. "He remembersboth the Romanis--ask him HIS opinion of Fabio--he worshiped hismaster. "

I turned to my servant, and with a benignant air addressed him:

"Your face is not familiar to me, my friend, " I said. "Perhaps you werenot here when I visited the elder Count Romani?"

"No, eccellenza, " replied Giacomo, rubbing his withered hands nervouslytogether, and speaking with a sort of suppressed eagerness, "I cameinto my lord's service only a year before the countess died--I mean themother of the young count. "

"Ah! then I missed making your acquaintance, " I said, kindly, pityingthe poor old fellow, as I noticed how his lips trembled, and howaltogether broken he looked. "You knew the last count from childhood, then?"

"I did, eccellenza!" And his bleared eyes roved over me with a sort ofalarmed inquiry. 

"You loved him well?" I said, composedly, observing him withembarrassment. 

"Eccellenza, I never wish to serve a better master. He was goodnessitself--a fine, handsome, generous lad--the saints have his soul intheir keeping! Though sometimes I cannot believe he is dead--my oldheart almost broke when I heard it. I have never been the samesince--my lady will tell you so--she is often displeased with me. "

And he looked wistfully at her; there was a note of pleading in hishesitating accents. My wife's delicate brows drew together in a frown, a frown that I had once thought came from mere petulance, but which Iwas now inclined to accept as a sign of temper. "Yes, indeed, Giacomo, "she said, in hard tones, altogether unlike her usual musical voice. "You are growing so forgetful that it is positively annoying. You knowI have often to tell you the same thing several times. One commandought to be sufficient for you. "

Giacomo passed his hand over his forehead in a troubled way, sighed, and was silent. Then, as if suddenly recollecting his duty, he refilledmy glass, and shrinking aside, resumed his former position behind mychair. 

The conversation now turned on desultory and indifferent matters. Iknew my wife was an excellent talker, but on that particular evening Ithink she surpassed herself. She had resolved to fascinate me, THAT Isaw at once, and she spared no pains to succeed in her ambition. Graceful sallies, witty bon-mots tipped with the pungent sparkle ofsatire, gay stories well and briskly told, all came easily from herlips, so that though I knew her so well, she almost surprised me by hervariety and fluency. Yet this gift of good conversation in a woman isapt to mislead the judgment of those who listen, for it is seldom theresult of thought, and still more seldom is it a proof of intellectualcapacity. A woman talks as a brook babbles; pleasantly, but withoutdepth. Her information is generally of the most surface kind--she skimsthe cream off each item of news, and serves it up to you in her ownfashion, caring little whether it be correct or the reverse. And themore vivaciously she talks, the more likely she is to be dangerouslyinsincere and cold-hearted, for the very sharpness of her wit is apt tospoil the more delicate perceptions of her nature. Show me a brilliantwoman noted for turning an epigram or pointing a satire, and I willshow you a creature whose life is a masquerade, full of vanity, sensuality and pride. The man who marries such a one must be content totake the second place in his household, and play the character of thehenpecked husband with what meekness he best may. Answer me, ye longsuffering spouses of "society women" how much would you give to winback your freedom and self-respect? to be able to hold your head upunabashed before your own servants? to feel that you can actually givean order without its being instantly countermanded? Ah, my poorfriends! millions will not purchase you such joy; as long as yourfascinating fair ones are like Caesar's wife, "above suspicion" (andthey are generally prudent managers), so long must you dance in theirchains like the good-natured clumsy bears that you are, only givingvent to a growl now and then; a growl which at best only excitesridicule. My wife was of the true world worldly; never had I seen herreal character so plainly as now, when she exerted herself to entertainand charm me. I had thought her spirituelle, ethereal, angelic! neverwas there less of an angel than she! While she talked, I was quick toobserve the changes on Ferrari's countenance. He became more silent andsullen as her brightness and cordiality increased. I would not appearaware of the growing stiffness in his demeanor; I continued to draw himinto the conversation, forcing him to give opinions on various subjectsconnected with the art of which he was professedly a follower. He wasvery reluctant to speak at all; and when compelled to do so, hisremarks were curt and almost snappish, so much so that my wife made alaughing comment on his behavior. 

"You are positively ill-tempered, Guido!" she exclaimed, thenremembering she had addressed him by his Christian name, she turned tome and added--"I always call him Guido, en famille; you know he is justlike a brother to me. "

He looked at her and his eyes flashed dangerously, but he was mute. Nina was evidently pleased to see him in such a vexed mood; shedelighted to pique his pride, and as he steadily gazed at her in a sortof reproachful wonder, she laughed joyously. Then rising from thetable, she made us a coquettish courtesy. 

"I will leave you two gentlemen to finish your wine together, " shesaid, "I know all men love to talk a little scandal, and they must bealone to enjoy it. Afterward, will you join me in the veranda? You willfind coffee ready. "

I hastened to open the door for her as she passed out smiling; then, returning to the table, I poured out more wine for myself and Ferrari, who sat gloomily eying his own reflection in the broad polished rim ofa silver fruit-dish that stood near him. Giacomo, the butler, had longago left the room; we were entirely alone. I thought over my plans fora moment or two; the game was as interesting as a problem in chess. With the deliberation of a prudent player I made my next move. 

"A lovely woman!" I murmured, meditatively, sipping my wine, "andintelligent also. I admire your taste, signor!"

He started violently. "What--what do you mean?" he demanded, halffiercely. I stroked my mustache and smiled at him benevolently. 

"Ah, young blood! young blood!" I sighed, shaking my head, "it willhave its way! My good sir, why be ashamed of your feelings? I heartilysympathize with you; if the lady does not appreciate the affection ofso ardent and gallant an admirer, then she is foolish indeed! It is notevery woman who has such a chance of happiness. "

"You think--you imagine that--that--I--"

"That you are in love with her?" I said, composedly. "Ma--certamente!And why not? It is as it should be. Even the late conte could wish nofairer fate for his beautiful widow than that she should become thewife of his chosen friend. Permit me to drink your health! Success toyour love!" And I drained my glass as I finished speaking, Unfortunatefool! He was completely disarmed; his suspicions of me melted away likemist before the morning light. His face cleared--he seized my hand andpressed it warmly. 

"Forgive me, conte, " he said, with remorseful fervor; "I fear I havebeen rude and unsociable. Your kind words have put me right again. Youwill think me a jealous madman, but I really fancied that you werebeginning to feel an attraction for her yourself, and actually--(pardonme, I entreat of you!) actually I was making up my mind to--to killyou!"

I laughed quietly. "Veramente! How very amiable of you! It was a goodintention, but you know what place is paved with similar designs?"

"Ah, conte, it is like your generosity to take my confession solightly; but I assure you, for the last hour I have been absolutelywretched!"

"After the fashion of all lovers, I suppose, " I answered "torturingyourself without necessity! Well, well, it is very amusing! My youngfriend, when you come to my time of life, you will prefer the chink ofgold to the laughter and kisses of women. How often must I repeat toyou that I am a man absolutely indifferent to the tender passion?Believe it or not, it is true. "

He drank off his wine at one gulp and spoke with some excitement. 

"Then I will frankly confide in you. I DO love the contessa. Love! itis too weak a word to describe what I feel. The touch of her handthrills me, her very voice seems to shake my soul, her eyes burnthrough me! Ah! YOU cannot know--YOU could not understand the joy, thepain--"

"Calm yourself, " I said, in a cold tone, watching my victim as hispent-up emotion betrayed itself, "The great thing is to keep the headcool when the blood burns. You think she loves you?"

"Think! Gran Dio! She has--" here he paused and his face flusheddeeply--"nay! I have no right to say anything on that score. I know shenever cared for her husband. "

"I know that too!" I answered, steadily. "The most casual observercannot fail to notice it. "

"Well, and no wonder!" he exclaimed, warmly. "He was such anundemonstrative fool! What business had such a fellow as that to marryso exquisite a creature!"

My heart leaped with a sudden impulse of fury, but I controlled myvoice and answered calmly:

"Requiescat in pace! He is dead--let him rest. Whatever his faults, hiswife of course was true to him while he lived; she considered himworthy of fidelity--is it not so?"

He lowered his eyes as he replied in an indistinct tone:

"Oh, certainly!"

"And you--you were a most loyal and faithful friend to him, in spite ofthe tempting bright eyes of his lady?"

Again he answered huskily, "Why, of course!" But the shapely hand thatrested on the table so near to mine trembled. 

"Well, then, " I continued, quietly, "the love you bear now to his fairwidow is, I imagine, precisely what he would approve. Being, as yousay, perfectly pure and blameless, what can I wish otherwise thanthis--may it meet with the reward it deserves!"

While I spoke he moved uneasily in his chair, and his eyes roved to myfather's picture with restless annoyance. I suppose he saw in it thelikeness to his dead friend. After a moment or two of silence he turnedto me with a forced smile--

"And so you really entertain no admiration for the contessa?"

"Oh, pardon me, I DO entertain a very strong admiration for her, butnot of the kind you seem to suspect. If it will please you, I canguarantee that I shall never make love to the lady unless--"

"Unless what?" he asked, eagerly. 

"Unless she happens to make love to me, In which case it would beungallant not to reciprocate!"

And I laughed harshly. He stared at me in blank surprise. "SHE makelove to YOU!" he exclaimed, "You jest. She would never do such a thing. "

"Of course not!" I answered, rising and clapping him heavily on theshoulder. "Women never court men, it is quite unheard of; a reverse ofthe order of nature! You are perfectly safe, my friend; you willcertainly win the recompense you so richly merit. Come, let us go anddrink coffee with the fair one. "

And arm-in-arm we sauntered out to the veranda in the most friendly waypossible. Ferrari was completely restored to good humor, and Nina, Ithought, was rather relieved to see it. She was evidently afraid ofFerrari--a good point for me to remember. She smiled a welcome to us aswe approached, and began to pour out the fragrant coffee. It was aglorious evening; the moon was already high in the heavens, and thenightingales' voices echoed softly from the distant woods. As I seatedmyself in a low chair that was placed invitingly near that of myhostess, my ears were startled by a long melancholy howl, which changedevery now and then to an impatient whine. 

"What is that?" I asked, though the question was needless, for I knewthe sound. 

"Oh, it is that tiresome dog Wyvis, " answered Nina, in a vexed tone. "He belonged to Fabio. He makes the evening quite miserable with hismoaning. "

"Where is he?"

"Well, after my husband's death he became so troublesome, roaming allover the house and wailing; and then he would insist on sleeping inStella's room close to her bedside. He really worried me both day andnight, so I was compelled to chain him up. "

Poor Wyvis! He was sorely punished for his fidelity. 

"I am very fond of dogs, " I said, slowly, "and they generally take tome with extraordinary devotion. May I see this one of yours?"

"Oh, certainly! Guido, will you go and unfasten him?"

Guido did not move; he leaned easily back in his chair sipping hiscoffee. 

"Many thanks, " he answered, with a half laugh; "perhaps you forget thatlast time I did so he nearly tore me to pieces. If you do not object, Iwould rather Giacomo undertook the task. "

"After such an account of the animal's conduct, perhaps the conte willnot care to see him. It is true enough, " turning to me as she spoke, "Wyvis has taken a great dislike to Signor Ferrari--and yet he is agood-natured dog, and plays with my little girl all day if she goes tohim. Do you feel inclined to see him? Yes?" And, as I bowed in theaffirmative, she rang a little bell twice, and the butler appeared. 

"Giacomo, " she continued, "unloose Wyvis and send him here. "

Giacomo gave me another of those timid questioning glances, anddeparted to execute his order. In another five minutes, the howling hadsuddenly ceased, a long, lithe, black, shadowy creature came leapingwildly across the moonlighted lawn--Wyvis was racing at full speed. Hepaid no heed to his mistress or Ferrari; he rushed straight to me witha yelp of joy. His huge tail wagged incessantly, he panted thirstilywith excitement, he frisked round and round my chair, he abased himselfand kissed my feet and hands, he rubbed his stately head fondly againstmy knee. His frantic demonstrations of delight were watched by my wifeand Ferrari with utter astonishment. I observed their surprise, andsaid lightly:

"I told you how it would be! It is nothing remarkable, I assure you. All dogs treat me in the same way. "

And I laid my hand on the animal's neck with a commanding pressure; helay down at once, only now and then raising his large wistful browneyes to my face as though he wondered what had changed it so greatly. But no disguise could deceive his intelligence--the faithful creatureknew his master. Meantime I thought Nina looked pale; certainly thelittle jeweled white hand nearest to me shook slightly. 

"Are you afraid of this noble animal, madame?" I asked, watching herclosely. She laughed, a little forcedly. 

"Oh, no! But Wyvis is usually so shy with strangers, and I never sawhim greet any one so rapturously except my late husband. It is reallyvery odd!"

Ferrari, by his looks, agreed with her, and appeared to be uneasilyconsidering the circumstance. 

"Strange to say, " he remarked, "Wyvis has for once forgotten me. Henever fails to give me a passing snarl. "

Hearing his voice, the dog did indeed commence growling discontentedly;but a touch from me silenced him. The animal's declared enmity towardFerrari surprised me--it was quite a new thing, as before my burial hisbehavior to him had been perfectly friendly. 

"I have had a great deal to do with dogs in my time, " I said, speakingin a deliberately composed voice. "I have found their instinctmarvelous; they generally seem to recognize at once the persons who arefond of their society. This Wyvis of yours, contessa, has no doubtdiscovered that I have had many friends among his brethren, so thatthere is nothing strange in his making so much of me. "

The air of studied indifference with which I spoke, and the fact of mytaking the exuberant delight of Wyvis as a matter of course, graduallyreassured the plainly disturbed feelings of my two betrayers, for aftera little pause the incident was passed over, and our conversation wenton with pleasant and satisfactory smoothness. Before my departure thatevening, however, I offered to chain up the dog--"as, if I do this, " Iadded, "I guarantee he will not disturb your night's rest by hishowling. "

This suggestion met with approval, and Ferrari walked with me to showme where the kennel stood. I chained Wyvis, and stroked him tenderly;he appeared to understand, and he accepted his fate with perfectresignation, lying down upon his bed of straw without a sign ofopposition, save for one imploring look out of his intelligent eyes asI turned away and left him. 

On making my adieus to Nina, I firmly refused Ferrari's offeredcompanionship in the walk back to my hotel. 

"I am fond of a solitary moonlight stroll, " I said. "Permit me to havemy own way in the matter. "

After some friendly argument they yielded to my wishes. I bade themboth a civil "good-night, " bending low over my wife's hand and kissingit, coldly enough, God knows, and yet the action was sufficient to makeher flush and sparkle with pleasure. Then I left them, Ferrari himselfescorting me to the villa gates, and watching me pass out on the openroad. As long as he stood there, I walked with a slow and meditativepace toward the city, but the instant I heard the gate clang heavily asit closed, I hurried back with a cautious and noiseless step. Avoidingthe great entrance, I slipped round to the western side of the grounds, where there was a close thicket of laurel that extended almost up tothe veranda I had just left. Entering this and bending the boughssoftly aside as I pushed my way through, I gradually reached a positionfrom whence I could see the veranda plainly, and also hear anythingthat passed. Guido was sitting on the low chair I had just vacated, leaning his head back against my wife's breast; he had reached up onearm so that it encircled her neck, and drew her head down toward his. In this half embrace they rested absolutely silent for some moments. Suddenly Ferrari spoke:

"You are very cruel, Nina! You actually made me think you admired thatrich old conte. "

She laughed. "So I do! He would be really handsome if he did not wearthose ugly spectacles. And his jewels are lovely. I wish he would giveme some more!"

"And supposing he were to do so, would you care for him, Nina?" hedemanded, jealously. "Surely not. Besides, you have no idea howconceited he is. He says he will never make love to a woman unless shefirst makes love to him; what do you think of that?"

She laughed again, more merrily than before. 

"Think! Why, that he is very original--charmingly so! Are you comingin, Guido?"

He rose, and standing erect, almost lifted her from her chair andfolded her in his arms. 

"Yes, I AM coming in, " he answered; "and I will have a hundred kissesfor every look and smile you bestowed on the conte! You littlecoquette! You would flirt with your grandfather!"

She rested against him with apparent tenderness, one hand playing withthe flower in his buttonhole, and then she said, with a slight accentof fear in her voice--

"Tell me, Guido, do you not think he is a little like--like FABIO? Isthere not a something in his manner that seems familiar?"

"I confess I have fancied so once or twice, " he returned, musingly;"there is rather a disagreeable resemblance. But what of that? many menare almost counterparts of each other. But I tell you what I think. Iam almost positive he is some long-lost relation of the family--Fabio'suncle for all we know, who does not wish to declare his actualrelationship. He is a good old fellow enough, I believe, and iscertainly rich as Croesus; he will be a valuable friend to us both. Come, sposina mia, it is time to go to rest. "

And they disappeared within the house, and shut the windows after them. I immediately left my hiding-place, and resumed my way toward Naples. Iwas satisfied they had no suspicion of the truth. After all, it wasabsurd of me to fancy they might have, for people in general do notimagine it possible for a buried man to come back to life again. Thegame was in my own hands, and I now resolved to play it out with aslittle delay as possible. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Time flew swiftly on--a month, six weeks, passed, and during that shortspace I had established myself in Naples as a great personage--great, because of my wealth and the style in which I lived. No one in all thenumerous families of distinction that eagerly sought my acquaintancecared whether I had intellect or intrinsic personal worth; it sufficedto them that I kept a carriage and pair, an elegant and costlyequipage, softly lined with satin and drawn by two Arabian mares asblack as polished ebony. The value of my friendship was measured by theluxuriousness of my box at the opera, and by the dainty fittings of myyacht, a swift trim vessel furnished with every luxury, and having onboard a band of stringed instruments which discoursed sweet music whenthe moon emptied her horn of silver radiance on the rippling water. Ina little while I knew everybody who was worth knowing in Naples;everywhere my name was talked of, my doings were chronicled in thefashionable newspapers; stories of my lavish generosity were repeatedfrom mouth to mouth, and the most highly colored reports of my immenserevenues were whispered with a kind of breathless awe at every cafe andstreet corner. Tradesmen waylaid my reticent valet, Vincenzo, and gavehim douceurs in the hope he would obtain my custom for them--"tips"which he pocketed in his usual reserved and discreet manner, but whichhe was always honest enough to tell me of afterward. He would mostfaithfully give me the name and address of this or that particulartempter of his fidelity, always adding--"As to whether the rascal sellsgood things or bad our Lady only knows, but truly he gave me thirtyfrancs to secure your excellency's good-will. Though for all that Iwould not recommend him if your excellency knows of an honester man!"

Among other distinctions which my wealth forced upon me, were thelavish attentions of match-making mothers. The black spectacles which Ialways wore, were not repulsive to these diplomatic dames--on thecontrary, some of them assured me they were most becoming, so anxiouswere they to secure me as a son-in-law. Fair girls in their teens, blushing and ingenuous, were artfully introduced to me--or, I SHOULDsay, thrust forward like slaves in a market for my inspection--though, to do them justice, they were remarkably shrewd and sharp-witted fortheir tender years. Young as they were, they were keenly alive to theimportance of making a good match--and no doubt the pretty innocentslaid many dainty schemes in their own minds for liberty and enjoymentwhen one or the other of them should become the Countess Oliva and foolthe old black-spectacled husband to her heart's content. Needless tosay their plans were not destined to be fulfilled, though I ratherenjoyed studying the many devices they employed to fascinate me. Whatpretty ogling glances I received!--what whispered admiration of my"beautiful white hair! so distingue"--what tricks of manner, alternating from grave to gay, from rippling mirth to witching languor!Many an evening I sat at ease on board my yacht, watching with asatirical inward amusement, one, perhaps two or three of these fairschemers ransacking their youthful brains for new methods to entrap theold millionaire, as they thought me, into the matrimonial net. I usedto see their eyes--sparkling with light in the sunshine--grow liquidand dreamy in the mellow radiance of the October moon, and turn upon mewith a vague wistfulness most lovely to behold, and--most admirablyfeigned! I could lay my hand on a bare round white arm and not berepulsed--I could hold little clinging fingers in my own as long as Iliked without giving offense such are some of the privileges of wealth!

In all the parties of pleasure I formed, and these were many--my wifeand Ferrari were included as a matter of course. At first Ninademurred, with some plaintive excuse concerning her "recent terriblebereavement, " but I easily persuaded her out of this. I even told someladies I knew to visit her and add their entreaties to mine, as I said, with the benignant air of an elderly man, that it was not good for oneso young to waste her time and injure her health by useless grieving. She saw the force of this, I must admit, with admirable readiness, andspeedily yielded to the united invitations she received, though alwayswith a well-acted reluctance, and saying that she did so merely"because the Count Oliva was such an old friend of the family and knewmy poor dear husband as a child. "

On Ferrari I heaped all manner of benefits. Certain debts of hiscontracted at play I paid privately to surprise him--his gratitude wasextreme. I humored him in many of his small extravagances--I playedwith his follies as an angler plays the fish at the end of his line, and I succeeded in winning his confidence. Not that I ever couldsurprise him into a confession of his guilty amour--but he kept me wellinformed as to what he was pleased to call "the progress of hisattachment, " and supplied me with many small details which, while theyfired my blood and brain to wrath, steadied me more surely in my planof vengeance. Little did he dream in whom he was trusting!--little didhe know into whose hands he was playing! Sometimes a kind of awfulastonishment would come over me as I listened to his trivial talk, andheard him make plans for a future that was never to be. He seemed socertain of his happiness--so absolutely sure that nothing could orwould intervene to mar it. Traitor as he was he was unable to foreseepunishment--materialist to the heart's core, he had no knowledge of thedivine law of compensation. Now and then a dangerous impulse stirredme--a desire to say to him point-blank:

"You are a condemned criminal--a doomed man on the brink of the grave. Leave this light converse and frivolous jesting--and, while there istime, prepare for death!"

But I bit my lips and kept stern silence. Often, too, I felt disposedto seize him by the throat, and, declaring my identity, accuse him ofhis treachery to his face, but I always remembered and controlledmyself. One point in his character I knew well--I had known it ofold--this was his excessive love of good wine. I aided and abetted himin this weakness, and whenever he visited me I took care that he shouldhave his choice of the finest vintages. Often after a convivial eveningspent in my apartments with a few other young men of his class andcaliber, he reeled out of my presence, his deeply flushed face andthick voice bearing plain testimony as to his condition. On theseoccasions I used to consider with a sort of fierce humor how Nina wouldreceive him--for though she saw no offense in the one kind of vice sheherself practiced, she had a particular horror of vulgarity in anyform, and drunkenness was one of those low failings she speciallyabhorred. 

"Go to your lady-love, mon beau Silenus!" I would think, as I watchedhim leaving my hotel with a couple of his boon companions, staggeringand laughing loudly as he went, or singing the last questionablestreet-song of the Neapolitan bas-peuple. "You are in a would-beriotous and savage mood--her finer animal instincts will revolt fromyou, as a lithe gazelle would fly from the hideous gambols of arhinoceros. She is already afraid of you--in a little while she willlook upon you with loathing and disgust--tant pis pour vous, tant mieuxpour moi!"

I had of course attained the position of ami intime at the VillaRomani. I was welcome there at any hour--I could examine and read myown books in my own library at leisure (what a privilege was mine); Icould saunter freely through the beautiful gardens accompanied byWyvis, who attended me as a matter of course; in short, the house wasalmost at my disposal, though I never passed a night under its roof. Icarefully kept up my character as a prematurely elderly man, slightlyinvalided by a long and ardous career in far-off foreign lands, and Iwas particularly prudent in my behavior toward my wife before Ferrari. Never did I permit the least word or action on my part that couldarouse his jealousy or suspicion. I treated her with a sort of parentalkindness and reserve, but she--trust a woman for intrigue!--she wasquick to perceive my reasons for so doing. Directly Ferrari's back wasturned she would look at me with a glance of coquettish intelligence, and smile--a little mocking, half-petulant smile--or she would uttersome disparaging remark about him, combining with it a covertcompliment to me. It was not for me to betray her secrets--I saw nooccasion to tell Ferrari that nearly every morning she sent her maid tomy hotel with fruit and flowers and inquiries after my health--nor wasmy valet Vincenzo the man to say that he carried gifts and similarmessages from me to her. But at the commencement of November thingswere so far advanced that I was in the unusual position of beingsecretly courted by my own wife!--I reciprocating her attentions withequal secrecy! The fact of my being often in the company of otherladies piqued her vanity--she knew that I was considered a desirableparti--and--she resolved to win me. In this case I also resolved--to bewon! A grim courtship truly--between a dead man and his own widow!Ferrari never suspected what was going on; he had spoken of me as "thatpoor fool Fabio, he was too easily duped;" yet never was there one more"easily duped" than himself, or to whom the epithet "poor fool" morethoroughly applied. As I said before, he was SURE--too sure of his owngood fortune. I wished to excite his distrust and enmity sometimes, butthis I found I could not do. He trusted me--yes! as much as in the olddays I had trusted HIM. Therefore, the catastrophe for him must besudden as well as fatal--perhaps, after all, it was better so. 

During my frequent visits to the villa I saw much of my child Stella. She became passionately attached to me--poor little thing!--her lovewas a mere natural instinct, had she but known it. Often, too, hernurse, Assunta, would bring her to my hotel to pass an hour or so withme. This was a great treat to her, and her delight reached its climaxwhen I took her on my knee and told her a fairy story--her favorite onebeing that of a good little girl whose papa suddenly went away, and howthe little girl grieved for him till at last some kind fairies helpedher to find him again. I was at first somewhat afraid of oldAssunta--she had been MY nurse--was it possible that she would notrecognize me? The first time I met her in my new character I almostheld my breath in a sort of suspense--but the good old woman was nearlyblind, and I think she could scarce make out my lineaments. She was ofan entirely different nature to Giacomo the butler--she thoroughlybelieved her master to be dead, as indeed she had every reason to do, but strange to say, Giacomo did not. The old man had a fanatical notionthat his "young lord" could not have died so suddenly, and he grew soobstinate on the point that my wife declared he must be going crazy. Assunta, on the other hand, would talk volubly of my death and tell mewith assured earnestness:

"It was to be expected, eccellenza--he was too good for us, and thesaints took him. Of course our Lady wanted him--she always picks outthe best among us. The poor Giacomo will not listen to me, he growsweak and childish, and he loved the master too well--better, " and hereher voice would deepen into reproachful solemnity, "yes, betteractually than St. Joseph himself! And of course one is punished forsuch a thing. I always knew my master would die young--he was toogentle as a baby, and too kind-hearted as a man to stay here long. "

And she would shake her gray head and feel for the beads of her rosary, and mutter many an Ave for the repose of my soul. Much as I wished it, I could never get her to talk about her mistress--it was the onesubject on which she was invariably silent. On one occasion when Ispoke with apparent enthusiasm of the beauty and accomplishments of theyoung countess, she glanced at me with sudden and earnestscrutiny--sighed--but said nothing. I was glad to see how thoroughlydevoted she was to Stella, and the child returned her affection withinterest--though as the November days came on apaces my little onelooked far from strong. She paled and grew thin, her eyes lookedpreternaturally large and solemn, and she was very easily wearied. Icalled Assunta's attention to these signs of ill-health; she repliedthat she had spoken to the countess, but that "madam" had taken nonotice of the child's weakly condition. Afterward I mentioned thematter myself to Nina, who merely smiled gratefully up in my face andanswered:

"Really, my dear conte, you are too good! There is nothing the matterwith Stella, her health is excellent; she eats too many bonbons, perhaps, and is growing rather fast, that is all. How kind you are tothink of her! But, I assure you, she is quite well. "

I did not feel so sure of this, yet I was obliged to conceal myanxiety, as overmuch concern about the child would not have been inkeeping with my assumed character. 

It was a little past the middle of November, when a circumstanceoccurred that gave impetus to my plans, and hurried them to fullfruition. The days were growing chilly and sad even in Naples--yachtingexcursions were over, and I was beginning to organize a few dinners andballs for the approaching winter season, when one afternoon Ferrarientered my room unannounced and threw himself into the nearest chairwith an impatient exclamation, and a vexed expression of countenance. 

"What is the matter?" I asked, carelessly, as I caught a furtive glanceof his eyes. "Anything financial? Pray draw upon me! I will be a mostaccommodating banker!"

He smiled uneasily though gratefully. 

"Thanks, conte--but it is nothing of that sort--it is--gran Dio! whatan unlucky wretch I am!"

"I hope, " and here I put on an expression of the deepest anxiety, "Ihope the pretty contessa has not played you false? she has refused tomarry you?"

He laughed with a disdainful triumph in his laughter. 

"Oh, as far as that goes there is no danger! She dares not play mefalse. "

"DARES not! That is rather a strong expression, my friend!" And Istroked my beard and looked at him steadily. He himself seemed to thinkhe had spoken too openly and hastily--for he reddened as he said with alittle embarrassment:

"Well, I did not mean that exactly--of course she is perfectly free todo as she likes--but she cannot, I think, refuse me after showing me somuch encouragement. "

I waved my hand with an airy gesture of amicable agreement. 

"Certainly not, " I said, "unless she be an arrant coquette andtherefore a worthless woman, and you, who know so well her intrinsicgoodness and purity, have no reason to fear. But, if not love or money, what is it that troubles you? It must be serious, to judge from yourface. "

He played absently with a ring I had given him, turning it round andround upon his finger many times before replying. 

"Well, the fact is, " he said at last, "I am compelled to go away--toleave Naples for a time. "

My heart gave an expectant throb of satisfaction. Going away!--leavingNaples!--turning away from the field of battle and allowing me to gainthe victory! Fortune surely favored me. But I answered with feignedconcern:

"Going away! Surely you cannot mean it. Why?--what for? and where?"

"An uncle of mine is dying in Rome, " he answered, crossly. "He has mademe his heir, and I am bound for the sake of decency to attend his lastmoments. Rather protracted last moments they threaten to be too, butthe lawyers say I had better be present, as the old man may take itinto his head to disinherit me at the final gasp. I suppose I shall notbe absent long--a fortnight at most--and in the meanwhile--"

Here he hesitated and looked at me anxiously. 

"Continue, caro mio, continue!" I said with some impatience. "If I cando anything in your absence, you have only to command me. "

He rose from his chair, and approaching the window where I sat in ahalf-reclining position, he drew a small chair opposite mine, andsitting down, laid one hand confidingly on my wrist. 

"You can do much!" he replied, earnestly, "and I feel that I canthoroughly depend upon you. Watch over HER! She will have no otherprotector, and she is so beautiful and careless! You can guardher--your age, your rank and position, the fact of your being an oldfriend of the family--all these things warrant your censorship andvigilance over her, and you can prevent any other man from intrudinghimself upon her notice--"

"If he does, " I exclaimed, starting up from my seat with a mock tragicair, "I will not rest till his body serves my sword as a sheath!"

And I laughed loudly, clapping him on the shoulder as I spoke. Thewords were the very same he had himself uttered when I had witnessedhis interview with my wife in the avenue. He seemed to find somethingfamiliar in the phrase, for he looked confused and puzzled. Seeingthis, I hastened to turn the current of his reflections. Stoppingabruptly in my mirth, I assumed a serious gravity of demeanor, and said:

"Nay, nay! I see the subject is too sacred to be jested with--pardon mylevity! I assure you, my good Ferrari, I will watch over the lady withthe jealous scrutiny of a BROTHER--an elderly brother too, andtherefore one more likely to be a model of propriety. Though I franklyadmit it is a task I am not specially fitted for, and one that israther distasteful to me, still, I would do much to please you, andenable you to leave Naples with an easy mind I promise you"--here Itook his hand and shook it warmly--"that I will be worthy of your trustand true to it, with exactly the same fine loyalty and fidelity youyourself so nobly showed to your dead friend Fabio! History cannotfurnish me with a better example!"

He started as if he had been stung, and every drop of blood recededfrom his face, leaving it almost livid. He turned his eyes in a kind ofwondering doubt upon me, but I counterfeited an air of such good faithand frankness, that he checked some hasty utterance that rose to hislips, and mastering himself by a strong effort, said, briefly:

"I thank you! I know I can rely upon your honor. "

"You can!" I answered, decisively--"as positively as you rely upon yourown!" Again he winced, as though whipped smartly by an invisible lash. Releasing his hand, I asked, in a tone of affected regret, "And when must you leave us, carino?"

"Most unhappily, at once, " he answered "I start by the early trainto-morrow morning. "

"Well, I am glad I knew of this in time, " I said, glancing at mywriting-table, which was strewn with unsent invitation cards, andestimates from decorators and ball furnishers. "I shall not think ofstarting any more gayeties till you return. "

He looked gratefully at me "Really? It is very kind of you, but Ishould be sorry to interfere with any of your plans--"

"Say no more about it, amico" I interrupted him lightly "Everything canwait till you come back. Besides, I am sure you will prefer to think ofmadama as living in some sort of seclusion during your enforcedabsence--"

"I should not like her to be dull!" he eagerly exclaimed. 

"Oh, no!" I said, with a slight smile at his folly, as ifshe--Nina--would permit herself to be dull! "I will take care of that. Little distractions, such as a drive now and then, or a very quiet, select musical evening! I understand--leave it all to me! But thedances, dinners, and other diversions shall wait till your return. "

A delighted look flashed into his eyes. He was greatly flattered andpleased. 

"You are uncommonly good to me, conte!" he said, earnestly. "I cannever thank you sufficiently. "

"I shall demand a proof of your gratitude some day, " I answered. "Andnow, had you not better be packing your portmanteau? To-morrow willsoon be here. I will come and see you off in the morning. "

Receiving this assurance as another testimony of my friendship, he leftme. I saw him no more that day; it was easy to guess where he was! Withmy wife, of course!--no doubt binding her, by all the most sacred vowshe could think of or invent, to be true to him--as true as she had beenfalse to me. In fancy I could see him clasping her in his arms, andkissing her many times in his passionate fervor, imploring her to thinkof him faithfully, night and day, till he should again return to thejoy of her caresses! I smiled coldly, as this glowing picture camebefore my imagination. Ay, Guido! kiss her and fondle her now to yourheart's content--it is for the last time! Never again will thatwitching glance be turned to you in either fear or favor--never againwill that fair body nestle in your jealous embrace--never again willyour kisses burn on that curved sweet mouth; never, never again! Yourday is done--the last brief moments of your sin's enjoyment havecome--make the most of them!--no one shall interfere! Drink the lastdrop of sweet wine--MY hand shall not dash the cup from your lips onthis, the final night of your amour! Traitor, liar, and hypocrite! makehaste to be happy for the short time that yet remains to you--shut thedoor close, lest the pure pale stars behold your love ecstasies! butlet the perfumed lamps shed their softest artificial luster on all thatradiant beauty which tempted your sensual soul to ruin, and of whichyou are now permitted to take your last look! Let there be musictoo--the music of her voice, which murmurs in your ear such entrancingfalsehoods! "She will be true, " she says. You must believe her, Guido, as I did--and, believing her thus, part from her as lingeringly andtenderly as you will--part from her--FOREVER!

CHAPTER XVII. 

Next morning I kept my appointment and met Ferrari at the railwaystation. He looked pale and haggard, though he brightened a little onseeing me. He was curiously irritable and fussy with the portersconcerning his luggage, and argued with them about some petty triflesas obstinately and pertinaciously as a deaf old woman. His nerves wereevidently jarred and unstrung, and it was a relief when he at last gotinto his coupe. He carried a yellow paper-covered volume in his hand. Iasked him if it contained any amusing reading. 

"I really do not know, " he answered, indifferently, "I have only justbought it. It is by Victor Hugo. "

And he held up the title-page for me to see. 

"Le Dernier Jour d'un Condamne, " I read aloud with careful slowness. "Ah, indeed! You do well to read that. It is a very fine study!"

The train was on the point of starting, when he leaned out of thecarriage window and beckoned me to approach more closely. 

"Remember!" he whispered, "I trust you to take care of her!"

"Never fear!" I answered, "I will do my best to replace YOU!"

He smiled a pale uneasy smile, and pressed my hand. These were our lastwords, for with a warning shriek the train moved off, and in anotherminute had rushed out of sight. I was alone--alone with perfect freedomof action--I could do as I pleased with my wife now! I could even killher if I chose--no one would interfere. I could visit her that eveningand declare myself to her--could accuse her of her infidelity and stabher to the heart! Any Italian jury would find "extenuatingcircumstances" for me. But why? Why should I lay myself open to acharge of murder, even for a just cause? No! my original design wasperfect, and I must keep to it and work it out with patience, thoughpatience was difficult. While I thus meditated, walking from thestation homeward, I was startled by the unexpected appearance of myvalet, who came upon me quite suddenly. He was out of breath withrunning, and he carried a note for me marked "Immediate. " It was frommy wife, and ran briefly thus:

"Please come at once. Stella is very ill, and asks for you. "

"Who brought this?" I demanded, quickening my pace, and signing toVincenzo to keep beside me. 

"The old man, eccellenza--Giacomo. He was weeping and in greattrouble--he said the little donzella had the fever in her throat--it isthe diphtheria he means, I think. She was taken ill in the middle ofthe night, but the nurse thought it was nothing serious. This morningshe has been getting worse, and is in danger. "

"A doctor has been sent for, of course?"

"Yes, eccellenza. So Giacomo said. But--"

"But WHAT?" I asked, quickly. 

"Nothing, eccellenza! Only the old man said the doctor had come toolate. "

My heart sunk heavily, and a sob rose in my throat. I stopped in myrapid walk and bade Vincenzo call a carriage, one of the ordinaryvehicles that are everywhere standing about for hire in the principalthoroughfares of Naples. I sprung into this and told the driver to takeme as quickly as possible to the Villa Romani, and adding to Vincenzothat I should not return to the hotel all day, I was soon rattlingalong the uphill road. On my arrival at the villa I found the gatesopen, as though in expectation of my visit, and as I approached theentrance door of the house, Giacomo himself met me. 

"How is the child?" I asked him eagerly. 

He made no reply, but shook his head gravely, and pointed to a kindlylooking man who was at that moment descending the stairs--a man whom Iinstantly recognized as a celebrated English doctor resident in theneighborhood. To him I repeated my inquiry--he beckoned me into a sideroom and closed the door. 

"The fact is, " he said, simply, "it is a case of gross neglect. Thechild has evidently been in a weakly condition for some time past, andtherefore is an easy prey to any disease that may be lurking about. Shewas naturally strong--I can see that--and had I been called in when thesymptoms first developed themselves, I could have cured her. The nursetells me she dared not enter the mother's room to disturb her aftermidnight, otherwise she would have called her to see the child--it isunfortunate, for now I can do nothing. "

I listened like one in a dream. Not even old Assunta dared to enter hermistress's room after midnight--no! not though the child might beseriously ill and suffering. I knew the reason well--too well! And sowhile Ferrari had taken his fill of rapturous embraces and lingeringfarewells, my little one had been allowed to struggle in pain and feverwithout her mother's care or comfort. Not that such consolation wouldhave been much at its best, but I was fool enough to wish there hadbeen this one faint spark of womanhood left in her upon whom I hadwasted all the first and only love of my life. The doctor watched me asI remained silent, and after a pause he spoke again. 

"The child has earnestly asked to see you, " he said, "and I persuadedthe countess to send for you, though she was very reluctant to do so, as she said you might catch the disease. Of course there is always arisk--"

"I am no coward, monsieur, " I interrupted him, "though many of usItalians prove but miserable panic-stricken wretches in time ofplague--the more especially when compared with the intrepidity andpluck of Englishmen. Still there are exceptions--"

The doctor smiled courteously and bowed. "Then I have no more to say, except that it would be well for you to see my little patient at once. I am compelled to be absent for half an hour, but at the expiration ofthat time I will return. "

"Stay!" I said, laying a detaining hand on his arm. "Is there any hope?"

He eyed me gravely. "I fear not. "

"Can nothing be done?"

"Nothing--except to keep her as quiet and warm as possible. I have leftsome medicine with the nurse which will alleviate the pain. I shall beable to judge of her better when I return; the illness will have thenreached its crisis. " In a couple of minutes more he had left the house, and a young maid-servant showed me to the nursery. 

"Where is the contessa?" I asked in a whisper, as I trod softly up thestairs. 

"The contessa?" said the girl, opening her eyes in astonishment. "Inher own bedroom, eccellenza--madama would not think of leaving it;because of the danger of infection. " I smothered a rough oath thatroses involuntarily to my lips. Another proof of the woman's utterheartlessness, I thought!

"Has she not seen her child?"

"Since the illness? Oh, no, eccellenza!"

Very gently and on tiptoe I entered the nursery. The blinds werepartially drawn as the strong light worried the child, and by thelittle white bed sat Assunta, her brown face pale and almost rigid withanxiety. At my approach she raised her eyes to mine, muttering softly:

"It is always so. Our Lady will have the best of all, first the father, then the child; it is right and just--only the bad are left. "

"Papa!" moaned a little voice feebly, and Stella sat up among hertumbled pillows, with wide-opened wild eyes, feverish cheeks, andparted lips through which the breath came in quick, uneasy gasps. Shocked at the marks of intense suffering in her face, I put my armstenderly round her--she smiled faintly and tried to kiss me. I pressedthe poor parched little mouth and murmured, soothingly:

"Stella must be patient and quiet--Stella must lie down, the pain willbe better so; there! that is right!" as the child sunk back on her bedobediently, still keeping her gaze fixed upon me. I knelt at thebedside, and watched her yearningly--while Assunta moistened her lips, and did all she could to ease the pain endured so meekly by the poorlittle thing whose breathing grew quicker and fainter with every tickof the clock. "You are my papa, are you not?" she asked, a deeper flushcrossing her forehead and cheeks. I made no answer--I only kissed thesmall hot hand I held. Assunta shook her head. 

"Ah, poverinetta! The time is near--she sees her father. And why not?He loved her well--he would come to fetch her for certain if the saintswould let him. "

And she fell on her knees and began to tell over her rosary with greatdevotion. Meanwhile Stella threw one little arm round my neck--her eyeswere half shut--she spoke and breathed with increasing difficulty. 

"My throat aches so, papa!" she said, pitifully. "Can you not make itbetter?"

"I wish I could, my darling!" I murmured. "I would bear all the painfor you if it were possible!"

She was silent a minute. Then she said:

"What a long time you have been away! And now I am too ill to play withyou!" Then a faint smile crossed her features. "See poor To-to!" sheexclaimed, feebly, as her eyes fell on a battered old doll in thespangled dress of a carnival clown that lay at the foot of her bed. "Poor dear old To-to! He will think I do not love him any more, becausemy throat hurts me. Give him to me, papa!"

And as I obeyed her request she encircled the doll with one arm, whileshe still clung to me with the other, and added:

"To-to remembers you, papa; you know you brought him from Rome, and heis fond of you, too--but not as fond as I am!" And her dark eyesglittered feverishly. Suddenly her glance fell on Assunta, whose grayhead was buried in her hands as she knelt. 

"Assunta!"

The old woman looked up. 

"Bambinetta!" she answered, and her aged voice trembled. 

"Why are you crying?" inquired Stella with an air of plaintivesurprise. "Are you not glad to see papa?"

Her words were interrupted by a sharp spasm of pain which convulsed herwhole body--she gasped for breath--she was nearly suffocated. Assuntaand I raised her up gently and supported her against her pillows; theagony passed slowly, but left her little face white and rigid, whilelarge drops of sweat gathered on her brow. I endeavored to soothe her. 

"Darling, you must not talk, " I whispered, imploringly; "try to be verystill--then the poor throat will not ache so much. "

She looked at me wistfully. After a minute or two she said, gently:

"Kiss me, then, and I will be quite good. "

I kissed her fondly, and she closed her eyes. Ten, twenty, thirtyminutes passed and she did not stir. At the end of that time the doctorentered. He glanced at her, gave me a warning look, and remainedstanding quietly at the foot of the bed. Suddenly the child woke, andsmiled divinely on all three of us. 

"Are you in pain, my dear?" I softly asked. 

"No!" she answered in a tiny voice, so faint and far away that we heldour breath to listen to it; "I am quite well now. Assunta must dress mein my white frock again now papa is here. I knew he would come back!"

And she turned her eyes upon me with a look of bright intelligence. 

"Her brain wanders, " said the doctor, in a low, pitying voice; "it willsoon be over. "

Stella did not hear him; she turned and nestled in my arms, asking in asort of babbling whisper:

"You did not go away because I was naughty, did you, papa?"

"No darling!" I answered, hiding my face in her curls. 

"Why do you have those ugly black things on?" she asked, in thefeeblest and most plaintive tone imaginable, so weak that I myselfcould scarcely hear it; "has somebody hurt your eyes? Let me see youreyes!" I hesitated. Dare I humor her in her fancy? I glanced up. Thedoctor's head again was turned away, Assunta was on her knees, her faceburied in the bed-clothes, praying to her saints; quick as thought Islipped my spectacles slightly down, and looked over them full at mylittle one. She uttered a soft cry of delight--"Papa! papa!" andstretched out her arms, then a strong and terrible shudder shook herlittle frame. The doctor came closer--I replaced my glasses without myaction being noticed, and we both bent anxiously over the sufferingchild. Her face paled and grew livid--she made another effort tospeak--her beautiful eyes rolled upward and became fixed--shesighed--and sunk back on my shoulder--dying--dead! My poor little one!A hard sob stifled itself in my throat--I clasped the small lifelessbody close in my embrace, and my tears fell hot and fast. There was along silence in the room--a deep, an awe-struck, reverent silence, while the Angel of Death, noiselessly entering and departing, gatheredmy little white rose for his Immortal garden of flowers. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

After some little time the doctor's genial voice, slightly tremulousfrom kindly emotion, roused me from my grief-stricken attitude. 

"Monsieur, permit me to persuade you to come away. Poor little child!she is free from pain now. Her fancy that you were her father was afortunate delusion for her. It made her last moments happy. Pray comewith me--I can see this has been a shock to your feelings. "

Reverently I laid the fragile corpse back on the yet warm pillows. Witha fond touch I stroked the flaxen head; I closed the dark, upturned, and glazing eyes--I kissed the waxen cheeks and lips, and folded thetiny hands in an attitude of prayer. There was a grave smile on theyoung dead face--a smile of superior wisdom and sweetness, majestic inits simplicity. Assunta rose from her knees and laid her crucifix onthe little breast--the tears were running down her worn and witheredcountenance. As she strove to wipe them away with her apron, she saidtremblingly:--

"It must be told to madama. " A frown came on the doctor's face. He wasevidently a true Britisher, decisive in his opinions, and frank enoughto declare them openly. "Yes, " he said, curtly, "Madama, as you callher, should have been here. "

"The little angel did not once ask for her, " murmured Assunta. 

"True!" he answered. And again there was silence. We stood round thesmall bed, looking at the empty casket that had held the lostjewel--the flawless pearl of innocent childhood that had gone, according to a graceful superstition, to ornament the festal robes ofthe Madonna as she walked in all her majesty through heaven. A profoundgrief was at my heart--mingled with a sense of mysterious and awfulsatisfaction. I felt, not as though I had lost my child, but had rathergained her to be more entirely mine than ever. She seemed nearer to medead than she had been when living. Who could say what her future mighthave been? She would have grown to womanhood--what then? What is theusual fate that falls to even the best woman? Sorrow, pain, and pettyworry, unsatisfied longings, incompleted aims, the disappointment of animperfect and fettered life--for say what you will to the contrary, woman's inferiority to man, her physical weakness, her inability toaccomplish any great thing for the welfare of the world in which shelives, will always make her more or less an object of pity. If good, she needs all the tenderness, support, and chivalrous guidance of hermaster, man--if bad, she merits what she receives, his pitiless disdainand measureless contempt. From all dangers and griefs of the kind myStella had escaped--for her, sorrow no longer existed. I was glad ofit, I thought, as I watched Assunta shutting the blinds close, as asignal to outsiders that death was in the house. At a sign from thedoctor I followed him out of the room--on the stairs he turned roundabruptly, and asked:

"Will YOU tell the countess?"

"I would rather be excused, " I replied, decisively. "I am not at all inthe humor for a SCENE. "

"You think she will make a scene?" he said with an astonished upliftingof his eyebrows. "I dare say you are right though! She is an excellentactress. "

By this time we had reached the foot of the stairs. 

"She is very beautiful, " I answered evasively. 

"Oh, very! No doubt of that!" And here a strange frown contracted thedoctor's brow. "For my own taste, I prefer an ugly woman to SUCHbeauty. "

And with these words he left me, disappearing down the passage whichled to "madama's" boudoir. Left alone, I paced up and down thedrawing-room, gazing abstractedly on its costly fittings, its manyluxurious knickknacks and elegancies--most of which I had given to mywife during the first few months of our marriage. By and by I heard thesound of violent hysterical sobbing, accompanied by the noise ofhurrying footsteps and the rapid whisking about of female garments. Ina few moments the doctor entered with an expression of sardonicamusement on his face. "Yes!" he said in reply to my look of inquiry, "hysterics, lace handkerchiefs, eau-de-Cologne, and attempts atfainting. All very well done! I have assured the lady there is no fearof contagion, as under my orders everything will be thoroughlydisinfected. I shall go now. Oh, by the way, the countess requests thatyou will wait here a few minutes--she has a message for you--she willnot detain you long. I should recommend you to get back to your hotelas soon as you can, and take some good wine. A rivederci! Anything Ican do for you pray command me!"

And with a cordial shake of the hand he left me, and I heard the streetdoor close behind him. Again I paced wearily up and down, wrapped insorrowful musings. I did not hear a stealthy tread on the carpet behindme, so that when I turned round abruptly, I was startled to find myselfface to face with old Giacomo, who held out a note to me on a silversalver, and who meanwhile peered at me with his eager eyes in soinquisitive a manner that I felt almost uneasy. 

"And so the little angel is dead!" he murmured in a thin, quaveringvoice. "Dead! Ay, that is a pity, a pity! But MY master is notdead--no, no! I am not such an old fool as to believe that. "

I paid no heed to his rambling talk, but read the message Nina had sentto me through him. 

"I am BROKEN-HEARTED!" so ran the delicately penciled lines. "Will youkindly telegraph my DREADFUL loss to Signor Ferrari? I shall be muchobliged to you. " I looked up from the perfumed missive and down at theold butler's wrinkled visage; he was a short man and much bent, andsomething in the downward glance I gave him evidently caught andriveted his attention, for Tie clasped his hands together and mutteredsomething I could not hear. 

"Tell your mistress, " I said, speaking slowly and harshly, "that I willdo as she wishes. That I am entirely at her service. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes! I understand!" faltered Giacomo, nervously, "My master neverthought me foolish--I could always understand him--"

"Do you know, my friend, " I observed, in a purposely cold and cuttingtone, "that I have heard somewhat too much about your master? Thesubject is tiresome to me! Were your master alive, he would say youwere in your dotage! Take my message to the countess at once. "

The old man's face paled and his lips quivered--he made an attempt todraw up his shrunken figure with a sort of dignity as he answered"Eccellenza, my master would never speak to me so--never, never!" Thenhis countenance fell, and he muttered, softly--"Though it is just--I ama fool--I am mistaken--quite mistaken--there is no resemblance!" Aftera little pause he added, humbly, "I will take your message, eccellenza. " And stooping more than ever, he shambled out of the room. My heart smote me as he disappeared; I had spoken very harshly to thepoor old fellow--but I instinctively felt that it was necessary to doso. His close and ceaseless examination of me--his timidity when heapproached me--the strange tremors he experienced when I addressed him, were so many warnings to me to be on my guard with this devoteddomestic. Were he, by some unforeseen chance, to recognize me, my planswould all be spoiled. I took my hat and left the house. As I crossedthe upper terrace, I saw a small round object lying in the grass--itwas Stella's ball that she used to throw for Wyvis to catch and bringto her. I picked up the poor plaything tenderly and put it in mypocket--and glancing up once more at the darkened nursery windows, Iwaved a kiss of farewell to my little one lying there in her lastsleep. Then fiercely controlling all the weaker and softer emotionsthat threatened to overwhelm me, I hurried away. On my road to thehotel I stopped at the telegraph-office and dispatched the news ofStella's death to Guido Ferrari in Rome. He would be surprised, Ithought, but certainly not grieved--the poor child had always been inhis way. Would he come back to Naples to console the now childlesswidow? Not he!--he would know well that she stood in very small need ofconsolation--and that she took Stella's death as she had taken mine--asa blessing, and not a bereavement. On reaching my own rooms, I gaveorders to Vincenzo that I was not at home to any one who mightcall--and I passed the rest of the day in absolute solitude. I had muchto think of. The last frail tie between my wife and myself had beensnapped asunder--the child, the one innocent link in the long chain offalsehood and deception, no longer existed. Was I glad or sorry forthis? I asked myself the question a hundred times, and I admitted thetruth, though I trembled to realize it. I was GLAD--yes--GLAD! Gladthat my own child was dead! You call this inhuman perhaps? Why? She wasbound to have been miserable; she was now happy!

The tragedy of her parents' lives could be enacted without imbitteringand darkening her young days, she was out of it all, and I rejoiced toknow it. For I was absolutely relentless; had my little Stella lived, not even for her sake would I have relaxed in one detail of myvengeance--nothing seemed to me so paramount as the necessity forrestoring my own self-respect and damaged honor. In England I knowthese things are managed by the Divorce Court. Lawyers are paidexorbitant fees, and the names of the guilty and innocent are draggedthrough the revolting slums of the low London press. It may be anexcellent method--but it does not tend to elevate a man in his owneyes, and it certainly does not do much to restore his lost dignity. Ithas one advantage--it enables the criminal parties to have their waywithout further interference--the wronged husband is set free--left outin the cold--and laughed at by those who wronged him. An admirablearrangement no doubt--but one that would not suit me. Chacun a songout! It would be curious to know in matters of this kind whetherdivorced persons are really satisfied when they have got theirdivorce--whether the amount of red tape and parchment expended in theirinterest has done them good and really relieved their feelings. Whether, for instance, the betrayed husband is glad to have got rid ofhis unfaithful wife by throwing her (with the full authority andpermission of the law) into his rival's arms? I almost doubt it! Iheard of a strange case in England once. A man, moving in good society, having more than suspicions of his wife's fidelity, divorced her--thelaw pronounced her guilty. Some years afterward, he being free, met heragain, fell in love with her for the second time and remarried her. Shewas (naturally!) delighted at his making such a fool of himself--forhenceforth, whatever she chose to do, he could not reasonably complainwithout running the risk of being laughed at. So now the number andvariety of her lovers is notorious in the particular social circlewhere she moves--while he, poor wretch, is perforce tongue-tied, anddare not consider himself wronged. There is no more pitiable object inthe world than such a man--secretly derided and jeered at by hisfellows, he occupies an almost worse position than that of a galleyslave, while in his own esteem he has sunk so low that he dare not, even in secret, try to fathom the depth to which he has fallen. Somemay assert that to be divorced is a social stigma. It used to be soperhaps, but society has grown very lenient nowadays. Divorced womenhold their own in the best and most brilliant circles, and what isstrange is that they are very generally petted and pitied. 

"Poor thing!" says society, putting up its eyeglass to scan admiringlythe beautiful heroine of the latest aristocratic scandal--"she had sucha brute of a husband! No wonder she liked that DEAR Lord So-and-So!Very wrong of her, of course, but she is so young! She was married atsixteen--quite a child!--could not have known her own mind!"

The husband alluded to might have been the best and most chivalrous ofmen--anything but a "brute"--yet he always figures as such somehow, andgets no sympathy. And, by the way, it is rather a notable fact that allthe beautiful, famous, or notorious women were "married at sixteen. "How is this managed? I can account for it in southern climates, wheregirls are full-grown at sixteen and old at thirty--but I cannotunderstand its being the case in England, where a "miss" of sixteen isa most objectionable and awkward ingenue, without any of the "charmswherewith to charm, " and whose conversation is always vapid and sillyto the point of absolute exhaustion on the part of those who are forcedto listen to it. These sixteen-year-old marriages are, however, theonly explanation frisky English matrons can give for having suchalarmingly prolific families of tall sons and daughters, and it is ahappy and convenient excuse--one that provides a satisfactory reasonfor the excessive painting of their faces and dyeing of their hair. Being young (as they so nobly assert), they wish to look even younger. A la bonne heure! If men cannot see through the delicate fiction, theyhave only themselves to blame. As for me, I believe in the old, old, apparently foolish legend of Adam and Eve's sin and the curse whichfollowed it--the curse on man is inevitably carried out to this day. God said:

"BECAUSE" (mark that BECAUSE!) "thou hast hearkened unto the voice ofthy wife" (or thy WOMAN, whoever she be), "and hast eaten of the treeof which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it" (the treeor fruit being the evil suggested FIRST to man by woman), "cursed isthe ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days ofthy life!"

True enough! The curse is upon all who trust woman too far--the sorrowupon all who are beguiled by her witching flatteries. Of what avail herpoor excuse in the ancient story--"The serpent beguiled me and I dideat!" Had she never listened she could not have been beguiled. Theweakness, the treachery, was in herself, and is there still. Througheverything the bitterness of it runs. The woman tempts--the manyields--and the gate of Eden--the Eden of a clear conscience and anuntrammeled soul, is shut upon them. Forever and ever the Divinedenunciation re-echoes like muttering thunder through the clouds ofpassing generations; forever and ever we unconsciously carry it out inour own lives to its full extent till the heart grows sick and thebrain weary, and we long for the end of it all, which is death--death, that mysterious silence and darkness at which we sometimes shudder, wondering vaguely--Can it be worse than life?

CHAPTER XIX. 

More than ten days had passed since Stella's death. Her mother hadasked me to see to the arrangements for the child's funeral, declaringherself too ill to attend to anything. I was glad enough to accede toher request, for I was thus able to avoid the Romani vault as a placeof interment. I could not bear to think of the little cherished bodybeing laid to molder in that terrific place where I had endured suchfrantic horrors. Therefore, informing all whom it concerned that Iacted under the countess's orders, I chose a pretty spot in the openground of the cemetery, close to the tree where I had heard thenightingale singing in my hour of supreme misery and suffering. Here mylittle one was laid tenderly to rest in warm mother-earth, and I hadsweet violets and primroses planted thickly all about the place, whileon the simple white marble cross that marked the spot I had the wordsengraved--

 "Una Stella svanita, " [Footnote: A vanished star]

adding the names of her parents and the date of her birth and death. Since all this had been done I had visited my wife several times. Shewas always at home to me, though of course, for decency's sake, inconsequence of the child's death, she denied herself to everybody else. She looked lovelier than ever; the air of delicate languor she assumedsuited her as perfectly as its fragile whiteness suits a hot-houselily. She knew the power of her own beauty most thoroughly, andemployed it in arduous efforts to fascinate me. But I had changed mytactics; I paid very little heed to her, and never went to see herunless she asked me very pressingly to do so. All compliments andattentions from me to her had ceased. SHE courted me, and I acceptedher courtship in unresponsive silence. I played the part of a taciturnand reserved man, who preferred reading some ancient and abstrusetreatise on metaphysics to even the charms of her society--and often, when she urgently desired my company, I would sit in her drawing-room, turning over the leaves of a book and feigning to be absorbed in it, while she, from her velvet fauteuil, would look at me with a prettypensiveness made up half of respect, half of gentle admiration--acapitally acted facial expression, by the bye, and one that would docredit to Sarah Bernhardt. We had both heard from Guido Ferrari; hisletter to my wife I of course did not see; she had, however, told me hewas "much shocked and distressed to hear of Stella's death. " Theepistle he addressed to me had a different tale to tell. In it hewrote--"YOU can understand, my dear conte, that I am not much grievedto hear of the death of Fabio's child. Had she lived, I confess herpresence would have been a perpetual reminder to me of things I preferto forget. She never liked me--she might have been a great source oftrouble and inconvenience; so, on the whole, I am glad she is out ofthe way. "

Further on in the letter he informed me:

"My uncle is at death's door, but though that door stands wide open forhim, he cannot make up his mind to go in. His hesitation will not beallowed to last, so the doctors tell me--at any rate I fervently hope Ishall not be kept waiting too long, otherwise I shall return to Naplesand sacrifice my heritage, for I am restless and unhappy away fromNina, though I know she is safely guarded by your protecting care. "

I read this particular paragraph to my wife, watching her closely as Islowly enunciated the words contained in it. She listened, and a vividblush crimsoned her cheeks--a blush of indignation--and her browscontracted in the vexed frown I knew so well. Her lips parted in ahalf-sweet, half-chilly smile as she said, quietly:

"I owe you my thanks, conte, for showing me to what extent SignorFerrari's impertinence may reach. I am surprised at his writing to youin such a manner! The fact is, my late husband's attachment for him wasso extreme that he now presumes upon a supposed right that he has overme--he fancies I am really his sister, and that he can tyrannize, asbrothers sometimes do! I really regret I have been so patient withhim--I have allowed him too much liberty. "

True enough! I thought and smiled bitterly. I was now in the heat ofthe game--the moves must be played quickly--there was no more time forhesitation or reflection. 

"I think, madam, " I said, deliberately, as I folded Guido's letter andreplaced it in my pocket-book, "Signor Ferrari ardently aspires to besomething more than a brother to you at no very distant date. "

Oh, the splendid hypocrisy of women! No wonder they make such excellentpuppets on the theatrical stage--acting is their natural existence, sham their breath of life! This creature showed no sign ofembarrassment--she raised her eyes frankly to mine in apparentsurprise--then she gave a little low laugh of disdain. 

"Indeed!" she said. "Then I fear Signor Ferrari is doomed to have hisaspirations disappointed! My dear conte, " and here she rose and sweptsoftly across the room toward me with that graceful gliding step thatsomehow always reminded me of the approach of a panther, "do you reallymean to tell me that his audacity has reached such a heightthat--really it is TOO absurd!--that he hopes to marry me?" And sinkinginto a chair near mine she looked at me in calm inquiry. Lost inamazement at the duplicity of the Vroman, I answered, briefly:

"I believe so! He intimated as much to me. " She smiled scornfully. 

"I am too much honored! And did you, conte, think for a moment thatsuch an arrangement would meet with my approval?"

I was silent. My brain was confused--I found it difficult to meet withand confront such treachery as this. What! Had she no conscience? Wereall the passionate embraces, the lingering kisses, the vows offidelity, and words of caressing endearment as naught? Were they allblotted from her memory as the writing on a slate is wiped out by asponge! Almost I pitied Guido! His fate, in her hands, was evidently tobe the same as mine had been; yet after all, why should I be surprised?why should I pity? Had I not calculated it all? and was it not part ofmy vengeance?

"Tell me!" pursued my wife's dulcet voice, breaking in upon myreflections, "did you really imagine Signer Ferrari's suit might meetwith favor at my hands?"

I must speak--the comedy had to be played out. So I answered, bluntly:

"Madam, I certainly did think so. It seemed a natural conclusion todraw from the course of events. He is young, undeniably handsome, andon his uncle's death will be fairly wealthy--what more could youdesire? besides, he was your husband's friend--"

"And for that reason I would never marry him!" she interrupted me witha decided gesture. "Even if I liked him sufficiently, which I do not"(oh, miserable traitress), "I would not run the risk of what the worldwould say of such a marriage. "

"How, madam? Pardon me if I fail to comprehend you. "

"Do you not see, conte?" she went on in a coaxing voice, as of one thatbegged to be believed, "if I were to marry one that was known to havebeen my husband's most intimate friend, society is so wicked--peoplewould be sure to say that there had been something between us before myhusband's death--I KNOW they would, and I could not endure suchslander!"

"Murder will out" they say! Here was guilt partially declaring itself. A perfectly innocent woman could not foresee so readily thecondemnation of society. Not having the knowledge of evil she would beunable to calculate the consequences. The overprudish woman betraysherself; the fine lady who virtuously shudders at the sight of a nudestatue or picture, announces at once to all whom it may concern thatthere is something far coarser in the suggestions of her own mind thanthe work of art she condemns. Absolute purity has no fear of socialslander; it knows its own value, and that it must conquer in the end. My wife--alas! that I should call her so--was innately vicious andfalse; yet how particular she was in her efforts to secure the blindworld's good opinion! Poor old world! how exquisitely it is fooled, andhow good-naturedly it accepts its fooling! But I had to answer the fairliar, whose net of graceful deceptions was now spread to entrap me, therefore I said with an effort of courtesy:

"No one would dare to slander you, contessa, in my presence. " She bowedand smiled prettily. "But, " I went on, "if it is true that you have noliking for Signer Ferrari--"

"It is true!" she exclaimed with sudden emphasis. "He is rough andill-mannered; I have seen him the worse for wine, sometimes he isinsufferable! I am afraid of him!"

I glanced at her quietly. Her face had paled, and her hands, which werebusied with some silken embroidery, trembled a little. 

"In that case, " I continued, slowly, "though I am sorry for Ferrari, poor fellow! he will be immensely disappointed! I confess I am glad inother respects, because--"

"Because what?" she demanded, eagerly. "Why, " I answered, feigning alittle embarrassment, "because there will be more chance for other menwho may seek to possess the hand of the accomplished and beautifulContessa Romani. "

She shook her fair head slightly. A transient expression ofdisappointment passed over her features. 

"The 'other men' you speak of, conte, are not likely to indulge in suchan ambition, " she said, with a faint sigh; "more especially, " and hereyes flashed indignantly, "since Signor Ferrari thinks it his duty tomount guard over me. I suppose he wishes to keep me for himself--a mostimpertinent and foolish notion! There is only one thing to do--I shallleave Naples before he returns. "

"Why?" I asked. 

She flushed deeply. "I wish to avoid him, " she said, after a littlepause; "I tell you frankly, he has lately given me much cause forannoyance. I will not be persecuted by his attentions; and as I beforesaid to you, I am often afraid of him. Under YOUR protection I know Iam quite safe, but I cannot always enjoy that--"

The moment had come. I advanced a step or two. 

"Why not?" I said. "It rests entirely with yourself. "

She started and half rose from her chair--her work dropped from herhands. 

"What do you mean, conte?" she faltered, half timidly, yet anxiously;"I do not understand!"

"I mean what I say, " I continued in cool hard tones, and stooping, Ipicked up her work and restored it to her; "but pray do not exciteyourself! You say you cannot always enjoy my protection; it seems to methat you can--by becoming my wife. "

"Conte!" she stammered. I held up my hand as a sign to her to be silent. 

"I am perfectly aware, " I went on in business-like accents--"of thedisparity in years that exists between us. I have neither youth, health, or good looks to recommend me to you. Trouble and bitterdisappointment have made me what I am. But I have wealth which isalmost inexhaustible--I have position and influence--and beside thesethings"--and here I looked at her steadily, "I have an ardent desire todo justice to your admirable qualities, and to give you all youdeserve. If you think you could be happy with me, speak frankly--Icannot offer you the passionate adoration of a young man--my blood iscold and my pulse is slow--but what I CAN do, I will!"

Having spoken thus, I was silent--gazing at her intently. She paled andflushed alternately, and seemed for a moment lost in thought--then asudden smile of triumph curved her mouth--she raised her large lovelyeyes to mine, with a look of melting and wistful tenderness. She laidher needle-work gently down, and came close up to me--her fragrantbreath fell warm on my cheek--her strange gaze fascinated me, and asort of tremor shook my nerves. 

"You mean, " she said, with a tender pathos in her voice--"that you arewilling to marry me, but that you do not really LOVE me?"

And almost appealingly she laid her white hand on my shoulder--hermusical accents were low and thrilling--she sighed faintly. I wassilent--battling violently with the foolish desire that had sprung upwithin me, the desire to draw this witching fragile thing to my heart, to cover her lips with kisses--to startle her with the passion of myembraces! But I forced the mad impulse down and stood mute. She watchedme--slowly she lifted her hand from where it had rested, and passed itwith a caressing touch through my hair. 

"No--you do not really LOVE me, " she whispered--"but I will tell youthe truth--_I_ LOVE YOU!"

And she drew herself up to her full height and smiled again as sheuttered the lie. I knew it was a lie--but I seized the hand whosecaresses stung me, and held it hard, as I answered:

"YOU love ME? No, no--I cannot believe it--it is impossible!"

She laughed softly. "It is true though, " she said, emphatically, "thevery first time I saw you I knew I should love you! I never even likedmy husband, and though in some things you resemble him, you are quitedifferent in others--and superior to him in every way. Believe it ornot as you like, you are the only man in all the world I have everloved!"

And she made the assertion unblushingly, with an air of conscious prideand virtue. Half stupefied at her manner, I asked:

"Then you will be my wife?"

"I will!" she answered--"and tell me--your name is Cesare, is it not?"

"Yes, " I said, mechanically. 

"Then, CESARE" she murmured, tenderly, "I will MAKE you love me verymuch!"

And with a quick lithe movement of her supple figure, she nestledsoftly against me, and turned up her radiant glowing face. 

"Kiss me!" she said, and waited. As one in a whirling dream, I stoopedand kissed those false sweet lips! I would have more readily placed mymouth upon that of a poisonous serpent! Yet that kiss roused a sort offury in me. I slipped my arms round her half-reclining figure, drew hergently backward to the couch she had left, and sat down beside her, still embracing her. "You really love me?" I asked almost fiercely. 

"Yes!"

"And I am the first man whom you have really cared for?

"You are!"

"You never liked Ferrari?"

"Never!"

"Did he ever kiss you as I have done?"

"Not once!"

God! how the lies poured forth! a very cascade of them! and they wereall told with such an air of truth! I marveled at the ease and rapiditywith which they glided off this fair woman's tongue, feeling somewhatthe same sense of stupid astonishment a rustic exhibits when he seesfor the first time a conjurer drawing yards and yards of many-coloredribbon out of his mouth. I took up the little hand on which thewedding-ring _I_ had placed there was still worn, and quietly slippedupon the slim finger a circlet of magnificent rose-brilliants. I hadlong carried this trinket about with me in expectation of the momentthat had now come. She started from my arms with an exclamation ofdelight. 

"Oh, Cesare! how lovely! How good you are to me!"

And leaning toward me, she kissed me, then resting against my shoulder, she held up her hand to admire the flash of the diamonds in the light. Suddenly she said, with some anxiety in her tone:

"You will not tell Guido? not yet?"

"No, " I answered; "I certainly will not tell him till he returns. Otherwise he would leave Rome at once, and we do not want him back justimmediately, do we?" And I toyed with her rippling gold tresses halfmechanically, while I wondered within myself at the rapid success of myscheme. She, in the meantime grew pensive and abstracted, and for a fewmoments we were both silent. If she had known! I thought, if she couldhave imagined that she was encircled by the arm of HER OWN HUSBAND, theman whom she had duped and wronged, the poor fool she had mocked at anddespised, whose life had been an obstruction in her path, whose deathshe had been glad of! Would she have smiled so sweetly? Would she havekissed me then?

 * * * * *

She remained leaning against me in a reposeful attitude for somemoments, ever and anon turning the ring I had given her round and roundupon her finger. By and by she looked up. 

"Will you do me one favor?" she asked, coaxingly; "such a littlething--a trifle! but it would give me such pleasure!"

"What is it?" I asked; "it is you to command and I to obey!"

"Well, to take off those dark glasses just for a minute! I want to seeyour eyes. "

I rose from the sofa quickly, and answered her with some coldness. 

"Ask anything you like but that, mia bella. The least light on my eyesgives me the most acute pain--pain that irritates my nerves for hoursafterward. Be satisfied with me as I am for the present, though Ipromise you your wish shall be gratified--"

"When?" she interrupted me eagerly. I stooped and kissed her hand. 

"On the evening of our marriage day, " I answered. 

She blushed and turned away her head coquettishly. 

"Ah! that is so long to wait!" she said, half pettishly. 

"Not very long, I HOPE, " I observed, with meaning emphasis. "We are nowin November. May I ask you to make my suspense brief? to allow me tofix our wedding for the second month of the new year?"

"But my recent widowhood!--Stella's death!"--she objected faintly, pressing a perfumed handkerchief gently to her eyes. 

"In February your husband will have been dead nearly six months, " Isaid, decisively; "it is quite a sufficient period of mourning for oneso young as yourself. And the loss of your child so increases theloneliness of your situation, that it is natural, even necessary, thatyou should secure a protector as soon as possible. Society will notcensure you, you may be sure--besides, _I_ shall know how to silenceany gossip that savors of impertinence. "

A smile of conscious triumph parted her lips. 

"It shall be as you wish, " she said, demurely; "if you, who are knownin Naples as one who is perfectly indifferent to women like now tofigure as an impatient lover. I shall not object!"

And she gave me a quick glance of mischievous amusement from under thelanguid lids of her dreamy dark eyes. I saw it, but answered, stiffly:

"YOU are aware, contessa, and I am also aware that I am not a 'lover'according to the accepted type, but that I am impatient I readilyadmit. "

"And why?" she asked. 

"Because, " I replied, speaking slowly and emphatically; "I desire youto be mine and mine only, to have you absolutely in my possession, andto feel that no one can come between us, or interfere with my wishesconcerning you. "

She laughed gayly. "A la bonne heure! You ARE a lover without knowingit! Your dignity will not allow you to believe that you are actually inlove with me, but in spite of yourself you ARE--you know you are!"

I stood before her in almost somber silence. At last I said: "If YOUsay so, contessa, then it must be so. I have had no experience inaffairs of the heart, as they are called, and I find it difficult togive a name to the feelings which possess me; I am only conscious of avery strong wish to become the absolute master of your destiny. " Andinvoluntarily I clinched my hand as I spoke. She did not observe theaction, but she answered the words with a graceful bend of the head anda smile. 

"I could not have a better fortune, " she said, "for I am sure mydestiny will be all brightness and beauty with YOU to control and guideit!"

"It will be what you desire, " I half muttered; then with an abruptchange of manner I said: "I will wish you goodnight, contessa. It growslate, and my state of health compels me to retire to rest early. "

She rose from her seat and gave me a compassionate look. 

"You are really a great sufferer then?" she inquired tenderly. "I amsorry! But perhaps careful nursing will quite restore you. I shall beso proud if I can help you to secure better health. "

"Rest and happiness will no doubt do much for me, " I answered, "still Iwarn you, cara mia, that in accepting me as your husband you take abroken-down man, one whose whims are legion and whose chronic state ofinvalidism may in time prove to be a burden on your young life. Are yousure your decision is a wise one?"

"Quite sure!" she replied firmly. "Do I not LOVE you! And you will notalways be ailing--you look so strong. "

"I am strong to a certain extent, " I said, unconsciously straighteningmyself as I stood. "I have plenty of muscle as far as that goes, but mynervous system is completely disorganized. I--why, what is the matter?Are you ill?"

For she had turned deathly pale, and her eyes look startled andterrified. Thinking she would faint, I extended my arms to save herfrom falling, but she put them aside with an alarmed yet appealinggesture. 

"It is nothing, " she murmured feebly, "a sudden giddiness--Ithought--no matter what! Tell me, are you not related to the Romanifamily? When you drew yourself up just now you were so like--likeFABIO! I fancied, " and she shuddered, "that I saw his ghost!"

I supported her to a chair near the window, which I threw open for air, though the evening was cold. 

"You are fatigued and overexcited, " I said calmly, "your nature is tooimaginative. No; I am not related to the Romanis, though possibly I mayhave some of their mannerisms. Many men are alike in these things. Butyou must not give way to such fancies. Rest perfectly quiet, you willsoon recover. "

And pouring out a glass of water I handed it to her. She sipped itslowly, leaning back in the fauteuil where I had placed her, and insilence we both looked out on the November night. There was a moon, butshe was veiled by driving clouds, which ever and anon swept asunder toshow her gleaming pallidly white, like the restless spirit of adeceived and murdered lady. A rising wind moaned dismally among thefading creepers and rustled the heavy branches of a giant cypress thatstood on the lawn like a huge spectral mourner draped in black, apparently waiting for a forest funeral. Now and then a few big dropsof rain fell-sudden tears wrung as though by force from the black heartof the sky. My wife shivered. 

"Shut the window!" she said, glancing back at me where I stood behindher chair. "I am much better now. I was very silly. I do not know whatcame over me, but for the moment I felt afraid--horribly afraid!--ofYOU!"

"That was not complimentary to your future husband, " I remarked, quietly, as I closed and fastened the window in obedience to herrequest. "Should I not insist upon an apology?"

She laughed nervously, and played with her ring of rose-brilliants. 

"It is not yet too late, " I resumed, "if on second thoughts you wouldrather not marry me, you have only to say so. I shall accept my fatewith equanimity, and shall not blame you. "

At this she seemed quite alarmed, and rising, laid her hand pleadinglyon my arm. 

"Surely you are not offended?" she said. "I was not really afraid ofyou, you know--it was a stupid fancy--I cannot explain it. But I amquite well now, and I am only TOO happy. Why, I would not lose yourlove for all the world--you MUST believe me!"

And she touched my hand caressingly with her lips. I withdrew itgently, and stroked her hair with an almost parental tenderness; then Isaid quietly:

"If so, we are agreed, and all is well. Let me advise you to take along night's rest: your nerves are weak and somewhat shaken. You wishme to keep our engagement secret?"

She thought for a moment, then answered musingly:

"For the present perhaps it would be best. Though, " and she laughed, "it would be delightful to see all the other women jealous and enviousof my good fortune! Still, if the news were told to any of ourfriends--who knows?--it might accidentally reach Guido, and--"

"I understand! You may rely upon my discretion. Good-night, contessa!"

"You may call me Nina, " she murmured, softly. 

"NINA, then, " I said, with some effort, as I lightly kissed her. "Good-night!--may your dreams be of me!" She responded to this with agratified smile, and as I left the room she waved her hand in a partingsalute. My diamonds flashed on it like a small circlet of fire; thelight shed through the rose-colored lamps that hung from the paintedceiling fell full on her exquisite loveliness, softening it intoethereal radiance and delicacy, and when I strode forth from the houseinto the night air heavy with the threatening gloom of coming tempest, the picture of that fair face and form flitted before me like amirage--the glitter of her hair flashed on my vision like little snakesof fire--her lithe hands seemed to beckon me--her lips had left ascorching heat on mine. Distracted with the thoughts that tortured me, I walked on and on for hours. The storm broke at last; the rain pouredin torrents, but heedless of wind and weather, I wandered on like aforsaken fugitive. I seemed to be the only human being left alive in aworld of wrath and darkness. The rush and roar of the blast, the angrynoise of waves breaking hurriedly on the shore, the swirling showersthat fell on my defenseless head--all these things were unfelt, unheardby me. There are times in a man's life when mere physical feeling growsnumb under the pressure of intense mental agony-when the indignantsoul, smarting with the experience of some vile injustice, forgets fora little its narrow and poor house of clay. Some such mood was upon methen, I suppose, for in the very act of walking I was almostunconscious of movement. An awful solitude seemed to encompass me--asilence of my own creating. I fancied that even the angry elementsavoided me as I passed; that there was nothing, nothing in all the wideuniverse but myself and a dark brooding horror called Vengeance. Allsuddenly, the mists of my mind cleared; I moved no longer in a deaf, blind stupor. A flash of lightning danced vividly before my eyes, followed by a crashing peal of thunder, I saw to what end of a wildjourney I had come! Those heavy gates--that undefined stretch ofland--those ghostly glimmers of motionless white like spectralmile-stones emerging from the gloom--I knew it all too well--it was thecemetery! I looked through the iron palisades with the feverishinterest of one who watches the stage curtain rise on the last scene ofa tragedy. The lightning sprung once more across the sky, and showed mefor a brief second the distant marble outline of the Romani vault. There the drama began--where would it end? Slowly, slowly there flittedinto my thoughts the face of my lost child--the young, serious face asit had looked when the calm, preternaturally wise smile of Death hadrested upon it; and then a curious feeling of pity possessed me--pitythat her little body should be lying stiffly out there, not in thevault, but under the wet sod, in such a relentless storm of rain. Iwanted to take her up from that cold couch--to carry her to some homewhere there should be light and heat and laughter--to warm her to lifeagain within my arms; and as my brain played with these foolishfancies, slow hot tears forced themselves into my eyes and scalded mycheeks as they fell. These tears relieved me--gradually the tightlystrung tension of my nerves relaxed, and I recovered my usual composureby degrees. Turning deliberately away from the beckoning grave-stones, I walked back to the city through the thick of the storm, this timewith an assured step and a knowledge of where I was going. I did notreach my hotel till past midnight, but this was not late for Naples, and the curiosity of the fat French hall-porter was not so much excitedby the lateness of my arrival as by the disorder of my apparel. 

"Ah, Heaven!" he cried; "that monsieur the distinguished should havebeen in such a storm all unprotected! Why did not monsieur send for hiscarriage?" I cut short his exclamations by dropping five francs intohis ever-ready hand, assuring him that I had thoroughly enjoyed thenovelty of a walk in bad weather, whereat he smiled and congratulatedme as much as he had just commiserated me. On reaching my own rooms, myvalet Vincenzo stared at my dripping and disheveled condition, but wasdiscreetly mute. He quickly assisted me to change my wet clothes for awarm dressing-gown, and then brought a glass of mulled port wine, butperformed these duties with such an air of unbroken gravity that I wasinwardly amused while I admired the fellow's reticence. When I wasabout to retire for the night, I tossed him a napoleon. He eyed itmusingly and inquiringly; then he asked:

"Your excellency desires to purchase something?"

"Your silence, my friend, that is all!" I replied, with a laugh. "Understand me, Vincenzo, you will serve yourself and me best byobeying implicitly, and asking no questions. Fortunate is the servantwho, accustomed to see his master drunk every night, swears to alloutsiders that he has never served so sober and discreet a gentleman!That is your character, Vincenzo--keep to it, and we shall notquarrel. " He smiled gravely, and pocketed my piece of gold without aword--like a true Tuscan as he was. The sentimental servant, whose finefeelings will not allow him to accept an extra "tip, " is, you may besure, a humbug. I never believed in such a one. Labor can alwayscommand its price, and what so laborious in this age as to be honest?What so difficult as to keep silence on other people's affairs? Suchherculean tasks deserve payment! A valet who is generously bribed, inaddition to his wages, can be relied on; if underpaid, all heaven andearth will not persuade him to hold his tongue. Left alone at last inmy sleeping chamber, I remained for some time before actually going tobed. I took off the black spectacles which served me so well, andlooked at myself in the mirror with some curiosity. I never permittedVincenzo to enter my bedroom at night, or before I was dressed in themorning, lest he should surprise me without these appendages which weremy chief disguise, for in such a case I fancy even his studiedcomposure would have given way. For, disburdened of my smoke-coloredglasses, I appeared what I was, young and vigorous in spite of my whitebeard and hair. My face, which had been worn and haggard at first, hadfilled up and was healthily colored; while my eyes, the spokesmen of mythoughts, were bright with the clearness and fire of constitutionalstrength and physical well-being. I wondered, as I stared moodily at myown reflection, how it was that I did not look ill. The mentalsuffering I continually underwent, mingled though it was with a certaingloomy satisfaction, should surely have left more indelible traces onmy countenance. Yet it has been proved that it is not always thehollow-eyed, sallow and despairing-looking persons who are really insharp trouble--these are more often bilious or dyspeptic, and know nomore serious grief than the incapacity to gratify their appetites forthe high-flavored delicacies of the table. A man may be endowed withsuperb physique, and a constitution that is in perfect workingorder--his face and outward appearance may denote the most harmoniousaction of the life principle within him--and yet his nerves may be sofinely strung that he may be capable of suffering acuter agony in hismind than if his body were to be hacked slowly to pieces by jaggedknives, and it will leave no mark on his features while YOUTH still hashold on his flesh and blood. 

So it was with me; and I wondered what SHE--Nina--would say, could shebehold me, unmasked as it were, in the solitude of my own room. Thisthought roused another in my mind--another at which I smiled grimly. Iwas an engaged man! Engaged to marry my own wife; betrothed for thesecond time to the same woman! What a difference between this and myfirst courtship of her! THEN, who so great a fool as I--who so adoring, passionate and devoted! NOW, who so darkly instructed, who so cold, soabsolutely pitiless! The climax to my revenge was nearly reached. Ilooked through the coming days as one looks through a telescope out tosea, and I could watch the end approaching like a phantom ship--neitherslow nor fast, but steadily and silently. I was able to calculate eachevent in its due order, and I knew there was no fear of failure in thefinal result. Nature itself--the sun, moon and stars, the sweepingcircle of the seasons--all seem to aid in the cause of rightfuljustice. Man's duplicity may succeed in withholding a truth for a time, but in the end it must win its way. Once resolve, and then determine tocarry out that resolve, and it is astonishing to note with whatmarvelous ease everything makes way for you, provided there be noinnate weakness in yourself which causes you to hesitate. I hadformerly been weak, I knew, very weak--else I had never been fooled bywife and friend; but now, now my strength was as the strength of ademon working within me. My hand had already closed with an iron gripon two false unworthy lives, and had I not sworn "never to relax, neverto relent" till my vengeance was accomplished? I had! Heaven and earthhad borne witness to my vow, and now held me to its stern fulfillment. 

CHAPTER XX. 

Winter, or what the Neapolitans accept as winter, came on apace. Forsome time past the air had been full of that mild chill and vaporousmurkiness, which, not cold enough to be bracing, sensibly lowered thesystem and depressed the spirits. The careless and jovial temperamentof the people, however, was never much affected by the change ofseasons--they drank more hot coffee than usual, and kept their feetwarm by dancing from midnight up to the small hours of the morning. Thecholera was a thing of the past--the cleansing of the city, thesanitary precautions, which had been so much talked about andrecommended in order to prevent another outbreak in the coming year, were all forgotten and neglected, and the laughing populace trippedlightly over the graves of its dead hundreds as though they wereodorous banks of flowers. "Oggi! Oggi!" is their cry--to-day, to-day!Never mind what happened yesterday, or what will happento-morrow--leave that to i signori Santi and la Signora Madonna! Andafter all there is a grain of reason in their folly, for many of thebitterest miseries of man grow out of a fatal habit of looking back orlooking forward, and of never living actually in the full-facedpresent. Then, too, Carnival was approaching; Carnival, which, thoughdenuded of many of its best and brightest features, still reels throughthe streets of Naples with something of the picturesque madness that inold times used to accompany its prototype, the Feast of Bacchus. I wasreminded of this coming festivity on the morning of the 21st ofDecember, when I noted some unusual attempts on the part of Vincenzo tocontrol his countenance, that often, in spite of his efforts, broadenedinto a sunny smile as though some humorous thought had flitted acrosshis mind. He betrayed himself at last by asking me demurely whether Ipurposed taking any part in the carnival? I smiled and shook my head. Vincenzo looked dubious, but finally summoned up courage to say:

"Will the eccellenza permit--"

"You to make a fool of yourself?" I interrupted, "by all means! Takeyour own time, enjoy the fun as much as you please; I promise you Iwill ask no account of your actions. "

He was much gratified, and attended to me with even morepunctiliousness than usual. As he prepared my breakfast I asked him:

"By the way, when does the carnival begin?"

"On the 26th, " he answered, with a slight air of surprise. "Surely theeccellenza knows. "

"Yes, yes, " I said, impatiently. "I know, but I had forgotten. I am notyoung enough to keep the dates of these follies in my memory. Whatletters have you there?"

He handed me a small tray full of different shaped missives, some fromfair ladies who "desired the honor of my company, " others fromtradesmen, "praying the honor of my custom, " all from male and femaletoadies as usual, I thought contemptuously, as I turned them over, whenmy glance was suddenly arrested by one special envelope, square in formand heavily bordered with black, on which the postmark "Roma" stood outdistinctly. "At last!" I thought, and breathed heavily. I turned to myvalet, who was giving the final polish to my breakfast cup and saucer:

"You may leave the room, Vincenzo, " I said, briefly. He bowed, the dooropened and shut noiselessly--he was gone. 

Slowly I broke the seal of that fateful letter; a letter from GuidoFerrari, a warrant self-signed, for his own execution!

"My best friend, " so it ran, "you will guess by the 'black flag' on myenvelope the good news I have to give you. My uncle is dead AT LAST, thank God! and I am left his sole heir unconditionally. I am free, andshall of course return to Naples immediately, that is, as soon as sometrifling law business has been got through with the executors. Ibelieve I can arrange my return for the 23d or 24th instant, but willtelegraph to you the exact day, and, if possible, the exact hour. Willyou oblige me by NOT announcing this to the countess, as I wish to takeher by surprise. Poor girl! she will have often felt lonely, I am sure, and I want to see the first beautiful look of rapture and astonishmentin her eyes! You can understand this, can you not, amico, or does itseem to you a folly? At any rate, I should consider it very churlishwere I to keep YOU in ignorance of my coming home, and I know you willhumor me in my desire that the news should be withheld from Nina, Howdelighted she will be, and what a joyous carnival we will have thiswinter! I do not think I ever felt more light of heart; perhaps it isbecause I am so much heavier in pocket. I am glad of the money, as itplaces me on a more equal footing with HER, and though all her lettersto me have been full of the utmost tenderness, still I feel she willthink even better of me, now I am in a position somewhat nearer to herown. As for you, my good conte, on my return I shall make it my firstduty to pay back with interest the rather large debt I owe to you--thusmy honor will be satisfied, and you, I am sure, will have a betteropinion of

"Yours to command, "GUIDO FERRARI. "

This was the letter, and I read it over and over again. Some of thewords burned themselves into my memory as though they were livingflame. "All her letters to me have been full of the utmost tenderness!"Oh, miserable-dupe! fooled, fooled to the acme of folly even as I hadbeen! SHE, the arch-traitress, to prevent his entertaining theslightest possible suspicion or jealousy of her actions during hisabsence, had written him, no doubt, epistles sweet as honey brimmingover with endearing epithets and vows of constancy, even while she knewshe had accepted me as her husband--me--good God! What a devil's danceof death it was!

"On my return I shall make it my first duty to pay back with interestthe rather large debt I owe you" (rather large indeed, Guido, so largethat you have no idea of its extent!), "thus my honor will besatisfied" (and so will mine in part), "and you, I am sure, will have abetter opinion of yours to command. " Perhaps I shall, Guido--mine tocommand as you are--perhaps when all my commands are fulfilled to thebitter end, I may think more kindly of you. But not till then! In themeantime--I thought earnestly for a few minutes, and then sitting down, I penned the following note. 

"Caro amico! Delighted to hear of your good fortune, and still moreenchanted to know you will soon enliven us all with your presence! Iadmire your little plan of surprising the countess, and will respectyour wishes in the matter. But you, on your part, must do me a triflingfavor: we have been very dull since you left, and I purpose to startthe gayeties afresh by giving a dinner on the 24th (Christmas Eve), inhonor of your return--an epicurean repast for gentlemen only. Therefore, I ask you to oblige me by fixing your return for that day, and on arrival at Naples, come straight to me at this hotel, that I mayhave the satisfaction of being the first to welcome you as you deserve. Telegraph your answer and the hour of your train; and my carriage shallmeet you at the station. The dinner-hour can be fixed to suit yourconvenience of course; what say you to eight o'clock? After dinner youcan betake yourself to the Villa Romani when you please--your enjoymentof the lady's surprise and rapture will be the more keen for havingbeen slightly delayed. Trusting you will not refuse to gratify an oldman's whim, I am, "Yours for the time being, "CESARE OLIVA. "

This epistle finished and written in the crabbed disguised penmanshipit was part of my business to effect, I folded, sealed and addressedit, and summoning Vincenzo, bade him post it immediately. As soon as hehad gone on this errand, I sat down to my as yet untasted breakfast andmade some effort to eat as usual. But my thoughts were too active forappetite--I counted on my fingers the days--there were four, only four, between me and--what? One thing was certain--I must see my wife, orrather I should say my BETROTHED--I must see her that very day. I thenbegan to consider how my courtship had progressed since that eveningwhen she had declared she loved me. I had seen her frequently, thoughnot daily--her behavior had been by turns affectionate, adoring, timid, gracious and once or twice passionately loving, though the latterimpulse in her I had always coldly checked. For though I could bear agreat deal, any outburst of sham sentiment on her part sickened andfilled me with such utter loathing that often when she was more thanusually tender I dreaded lest my pent-up wrath should break loose andimpel me to kill her swiftly and suddenly as one crushes the head of apoisonous adder--an all-too-merciful death for such as she. I preferredto woo her by gifts alone--and her hands were always ready to takewhatever I or others chose to offer her. From a rare jewel to a commonflower she never refused anything--her strongest passions were vanityand avarice. Sparkling gems from the pilfered store of CarmeloNeri-trinkets which I had especially designed for her--lace, richembroideries, bouquets of hot-house blossoms, gilded boxes of costlysweets--nothing came amiss to her--she accepted all with a certaincovetous glee which she was at no pains to hide from me--nay, she madeit rather evident that she expected such things as her right. 

And after all, what did it matter to me--I thought--of what value wasanything I possessed save to assist me in carrying out the punishment Ihad destined for her? I studied her nature with critical coldness--Isaw its inbred vice artfully concealed beneath the affectation ofvirtue--every day she sunk lower in my eyes, and I wondered vaguely howI could ever have loved so coarse and common a thing! Lovely shecertainly was--lovely too are many of the wretched outcasts who sellthemselves in the streets for gold, and who in spite of their criminaltrade are less vile than such a woman as the one I had wedded. Merebeauty of face and form can be bought as easily as one buys aflower--but the loyal heart, the pure soul, the lofty intelligencewhich can make of woman an angel--these are unpurchasable ware, andseldom fall to the lot of man. For beauty, though so perishable, is asnare to us all--it maddens our blood in spite of ourselves--we men aremade so. How was it that I--even I, who now loathed the creature I hadonce loved--could not look upon her physical loveliness without afoolish thrill of passion awaking within me--passion that had somethingof the murderous in it--admiration that was almost brutal--feelingswhich I could not control though I despised myself for them while theylasted! There is a weak point in the strongest of us, and wicked womenknow well where we are most vulnerable. One dainty pin-prickwell-aimed--and all the barriers of caution and reserve are brokendown--we are ready to fling away our souls for a smile or a kiss. Surely at the last day when we are judged--and may be condemned--we canmake our last excuse to the Creator in the word? of the first misguidedman:

"The woman whom thou gavest to be with me--she tempted me, and I dideat!"

I lost no time that day in going to the Villa Romani. I drove there inmy carriage, taking with me the usual love-offering in the shape of alarge gilded osier-basket full of white violets. Their delicious odorreminded me of that May morning when Stella was born--and then quicklythere flashed into my mind the words spoken by Guido Ferrari at thetime. How mysterious they had seemed to me then--how clear theirmeaning now! On arriving at the villa I found my fiance in her ownboudoir, attired in morning deshabille, if a trailing robe of whitecashmere trimmed with Mechlin lace and swan's-down can be considereddeshabille. Her rich hair hung loosely on her shoulders, and she wasseated in a velvet easy-chair before a small sparkling wood fire, reading. Her attitude was one of luxurious ease and grace, but shesprung up as soon as her maid announced me, and came forward with herusual charming air of welcome, in which there was something imperial, as of a sovereign who receives a subject. I presented the flowers I hadbrought, with a few words of studied and formal compliment, uttered forthe benefit of the servant who lingered in the room--then I added in alower tone:

"I have news of importance--can I speak to you privately?"

She smiled assent, and motioning me by a graceful gesture of her handto take a seat, she at once dismissed her maid. As soon as the door hadclosed behind the girl I spoke at once and to the point, scarcelywaiting till my wife resumed her easy-chair before the fire. 

"I have had a letter from Signor Ferrari. "

She started slightly, but said nothing, she merely bowed her head andraised her delicately arched eyebrows with a look of inquiry as of onewho should say, "Indeed! in what way does this concern me?" I watchedher narrowly, and then continued, "He is coming back in two or threedays--he says he is sure, " and here I smiled, "that you will bedelighted to see him. "

This time she half rose from her seat, her lips moved as though shewould speak, but she remained silent, and sinking back again among herviolet velvet cushions, she grew very pale. 

"If, " I went on, "you have any reason to think that he may make himselfdisagreeable to you when he knows of your engagement to me, out ofdisappointed ambition, conceit, or self-interest (for of course YOUnever encouraged him), I should advise you to go on a visit to somefriends for a few days, till his irritation shall have somewhat passed. What say you to such a plan?"

She appeared to meditate for a few moments--then raising her lovelyeyes with a wistful and submissive look, she replied:

"It shall be as you wish, Cesare! Signor Ferrari is certainly rash andhot-tempered, he might be presumptuous enough to--But you do not thinkof yourself in the matter! Surely YOU also are in danger of beinginsulted by him when he knows all?"

"I shall be on my guard!" I said, quietly. "Besides, I can easilypardon any outburst of temper on his part--it will be perfectlynatural, I think! To lose all hope of ever winning such a love as yoursmust needs be a sore trial to one of his hot blood and fiery impulses. Poor fellow!" and I sighed and shook my head with benevolentgentleness. "By the way, he tells me he has had letters from you?"

I put this question carelessly, but it took her by surprise. She caughther breath hard and looked at me sharply, with an alarmed expression. Seeing that my face was perfectly impassive, she recovered hercomposure instantly, and answered:

"Oh, yes! I have been compelled to write to him once or twice onmatters of business connected with my late husband's affairs. Mostunfortunately, Fabio made him one of the trustees of his fortune incase of his death--it is exceedingly awkward for me that he shouldoccupy that position--it appears to give him some authority over myactions. In reality he has none. He has no doubt exaggerated the numberof times I have written to him? it would be like his impertinence to doso. "

Though this last remark was addressed to me almost as a question, I letit pass without response. I reverted to my original theme. 

"What think you, then?" I said. "Will you remain here or will youabsent yourself for a few days?"

She rose from her chair and approaching me, knelt down at my side, clasping her two little hands round my arm. "With your permission, " shereturned, softly, "I will go to the convent where I was educated. It issome eight or ten miles distant from here, and I think" (here shecounterfeited the most wonderful expression of ingenuous sweetness andpiety)--"I think I should like to make a 'RETREAT'--that is, devotesome time solely to the duties of religion before I enter upon a secondmarriage. The dear nuns would be so glad to see me--and I am sure youwill not object? It will be a good preparation for my future. "

I seized her caressing hands and held them hard, while I looked uponher kneeling there like the white-robed figure of a praying saint. 

"It will indeed!" I said in a harsh voice. "The best of all possiblepreparations! We none of us know what may happen--we cannot tellwhether life or death awaits us--it is wise to prepare for either bywords of penitence and devotion! I admire this beautiful spirit in you, carina! Go to the convent by all means! I shall find you there and willvisit you when the wrath and bitterness of our friend Ferrari have beensmoothed into silence and resignation. Yes--go to the convent, amongthe good and pious nuns--and when you pray for yourself, pray for thepeace of your dead husband's soul--and--for me! Such prayers, unselfishand earnest, uttered by pure lips like yours, fly swiftly to heaven!And as for young Guido--have no fear--I promise you he shall offend youno more!"

"Ah, you do not know him!" she murmured, lightly kissing my hands thatstill held hers; "I fear he will give you a great deal of trouble. "

"I shall at any rate know how to silence him, " I said, releasing her asI spoke, and watching her as she rose from her kneeling position andstood before me, supple and delicate as a white iris swaying in thewind. "You never gave him reason to hope--therefore he has no cause ofcomplaint. "

"True!" she replied, readily, with an untroubled smile. "But I am sucha nervous creature! I am always imagining evils that never happen. Andnow, Cesare, when do you wish me to go to the convent?"

I shrugged my shoulders with an air of indifference. 

"Your submission to my will, mia bella" I said, coldly, "is altogethercharming, and flatters me much, but I am not your master--not yet! Praychoose your own time, and suit your departure to your own pleasure. "

"Then, " she replied, with an air of decision, "I will go today. Thesooner the better--for some instinct tells me that Guido will play us atrick and return before we expect him. Yes--I will go to-day. "

I rose to take my leave. "Then you will require leisure to make yourpreparations, " I said, with ceremonious politeness. "I assure you Iapprove your resolve. If you inform the superioress of the convent thatI am your betrothed husband, I suppose I shall be permitted to see youwhen I call?"

"Oh, certainly!" she replied. "The dear nuns will do anything for me. Their order is one of perpetual adoration, and their rules are verystrict, but they do not apply them to their old pupils, and I am one oftheir great favorites. "

"Naturally!" I observed. "And will you also join in the service ofperpetual adoration?"

"Oh, yes!"

"It needs an untainted soul like yours, " I said, with a satiricalsmile, which she did not see, "to pray before the unveiled Host withoutbeing conscience-smitten! I envy you your privilege. _I_ could not doit--but YOU are probably nearer to the angels than we know. And so youwill pray for me?"

She raised her eyes with devout gentleness. "I will indeed!"

"I thank you!"--and I choked back the bitter contempt and disgust I hadfor her hypocrisy as I spoke--"I thank you heartily--most heartily!Addio!"

She came or rather floated to my side, her white garments trailingabout her and the gold of her hair glittering in the mingled glow ofthe firelight and the wintery sunbeams that shone through the window. She looked up--a witch-like languor lay in her eyes--her red lipspouted. 

"Not one kiss before you go?" she said. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

FOR a moment I lost my self-possession. I scarcely remember now what Idid. I know I clasped her almost roughly in my arms--I know that Ikissed her passionately on lips, throat and brow--and that in thefervor of my embraces, the thought of what manner of vile thing she wascame swiftly upon me, causing me to release her with such suddennessthat she caught at the back of a chair to save herself from falling. Her breath came and went in little quick gasps of excitement, her facewas flushed--she looked astonished, yet certainly not displeased. No, SHE was not angry, but I was--thoroughly annoyed--bitterly vexed withmyself, for being such a fool. 

"Forgive me, " I muttered. "I forgot--I--"

A little smile stole round the corners of her mouth. 

"You are fully pardoned!" she said, in a low voice, "you need notapologize. "

Her smile deepened; suddenly she broke into a rippling laugh, sweet andsilvery as a bell--a laugh that went through me like a knife. Was itnot the self-same laughter that had pierced my brain the night Iwitnessed her amorous interview with Guido in the avenue? Had not thecruel mockery of it nearly driven me mad? I could not endure it--Isprung to her side--she ceased laughing and looked at me in wide-eyedwonderment. 

"Listen!" I said, in an impatient, almost fierce tone. "Do not laughlike that! It jars my nerves--it--hurts me! I will tell you why. Once--long ago--in my youth--I loved a woman. She was NOT likeyou--no--for she was false! False to the very heart's core--false inevery word she uttered. You understand me? she resembled you innothing--nothing! But she used to laugh at me--she trampled on my lifeand spoiled it--she broke my heart! It is all past now, I never thinkof her, only your laughter reminded me--there!" And I took her handsand kissed them. "I have told you the story of my early folly--forgetit and forgive me! It is time you prepared for your journey, is it not?If I can be of service to you, command me--you know where to send forme. Good-bye! and the peace of a pure conscience be with you!"

And I laid my burning hand on her head weighted with its clusteringcurls of gold. SHE thought this gesture was one of blessing. _I_thought--God only knows what I thought--yet surely if curses can be sobestowed, my curse crowned her at that moment! I dared not trust myselflonger in her presence, and without another word or look I left her andhurried from the house. I knew she was startled and at the same timegratified to think she could thus have moved me to any display ofemotion--but I would not even turn my head to catch her parting glance. I could not--I was sick of myself and of her. I was literally tornasunder between love and hatred--love born basely of material feelingalone--hatred, the offspring of a deeply injured spirit for whose wrongthere could scarce be found sufficient remedy. Once out of theinfluence of her bewildering beauty, my mind grew calmer--and the driveback to the hotel in my carriage through the sweet dullness of theDecember air quieted the feverish excitement of my blood and restoredme to myself. It was a most lovely day--bright and fresh, with thesavor of the sea in the wind. The waters of the bay were of asteel-like blue shading into deep olive-green, and a soft haze lingeredabout the shores of Amalfi like a veil of gray, shot through withsilver and gold. Down the streets went women in picturesque garbcarrying on their heads baskets full to the brim of purple violets thatscented the air as they passed--children ragged and dirty ran along, pushing the luxuriant tangle of their dark locks away from theirbeautiful wild antelope eyes, and, holding up bunches of roses andnarcissi with smiles as brilliant as the very sunshine, implored thepassengers to buy "for the sake of the little Gesu who was soon coming!"

Bells clashed and clanged from the churches in honor of San Tommaso, whose festival it was, and the city had that aspect of gala gayetyabout it, which is in truth common enough to all continental towns, butwhich seems strange to the solemn Londoner who sees so much apparentlyreasonless merriment for the first time. He, accustomed to have hisreluctant laughter pumped out of him by an occasional visit to thetheater where he can witness the "original, " English translation of aFrench farce, cannot understand WHY these foolish Neapolitans shouldlaugh and sing and shout in the manner they do, merely because they areglad to be alive. And after much dubious consideration, he decideswithin himself that they are all rascals--the scum of the earth--andthat he and he only is the true representative of man at his best--themodel of civilized respectability. And a mournful spectacle he thusseems to the eyes of us "base" foreigners--in our hearts we are sorryfor him and believe that if he could manage to shake off the fetters ofhis insular customs and prejudices, he might almost succeed in enjoyinglife as much as we do!

As I drove along I saw a small crowd at one of the street corners--agesticulating, laughing crowd, listening to an "improvisatore" orwandering poet--a plump-looking fellow who had all the rhymes of Italyat his fingers' ends, and who could make a poem on any subject or anacrostic on any name, with perfect facility. I stopped my carriage tolisten to his extemporized verses, many of which were really admirable, and tossed him three francs. He threw them up in the air, one after theother, and caught them, as they fell, in his mouth, appearing to haveswallowed them all--then with an inimitable grimace, he pulled off histattered cap and said:

"Ancora affamato, excellenza!" (I am still hungry!) amid the renewedlaughter of his easily amused audience. A merry poet he was and withoutconceit--and his good humor merited the extra silver pieces I gave him, which caused him, to wish me--"Buon appetito e un sorriso dellaMadonna!"--(a good appetite to you and a smile of the Madonna!) Imaginethe Lord Laureate of England standing at the corner of Regent Streetswallowing half-pence for his rhymes! Yet some of the quaint conceitsstrung together by such a fellow as this improvisatore might furnishmaterial for many of the so called "poets" whose names are mysteriouslyhonored in Britain. 

Further on I came upon a group of red-capped coral fishers assembledround a portable stove whereon roasting chestnuts cracked their glossysides and emitted savory odors. The men were singing gayly to thethrumming of an old guitar, and the song they sung was familiar to me. Stay! where had I heard it?--let me listen!

 "Sciore limone Le voglio far mori de passione Zompa llari llira!" [Footnote: Neapolitan dialect. ]

Ha! I remembered now. When I had crawled out of the vault through thebrigand's hole of entrance--when my heart had bounded with gladanticipations never to be realized--when I had believed in the worth oflove and friendship--when I had seen the morning sun glittering on thesea, and had thought--poor fool!--that his long beams were like so manygolden flags of joy hung up in heaven to symbolize the happiness of myrelease from death and my restoration to liberty--then--then I hadheard a sailor's voice in the distance singing that "ritornello, " and Ihad fondly imagined its impassioned lines were all for me! Hatefulmusic--most bitter sweetness! I could have put my hands up to my earsto shut out the sound of it now that I thought of the time when I hadheard it last! For then I had possessed a heart--a throbbing, passionate, sensitive thing--alive to every emotion of tenderness andaffection--now that heart was dead and cold as a stone. Only its corpsewent with me everywhere, weighing me down with itself to the strangegrave it occupied, a grave wherein were also buried so many deardelusions--such plaintive regrets, such pleading memories, that surelyit was no wonder their small ghosts arose and haunted me, saying, "Wiltthou not weep for this lost sweetness?" "Wilt thou not relent beforesuch a remembrance?" or "Hast thou no desire for that past delight?"But to all such inward temptations my soul was deaf and inexorable;justice--stern, immutable justice was what I sought and what I meant tohave. 

May be you find it hard to understand the possibility of Scheming andcarrying out so prolonged a vengeance as mine? If you that read thesepages are English, I know it will seem to you well-nighincomprehensible. The temperate blood of the northerner, combined withhis open, unsuspicious nature, has, I admit, the advantage over us inmatters of personal injury. An Englishman, so I hear, is incapable ofnourishing a long and deadly resentment, even against an unfaithfulwife--he is too indifferent, he thinks it not worth his while. But weNeapolitans, we can carry a "vendetta" through a life-time--ay, throughgeneration after generation! This is bad, you say--immoral, unchristian. No doubt! We are more than half pagans at heart; we are asour country and our traditions have made us. It will need anothervisitation of Christ before we shall learn how to forgive those thatdespitefully use us. Such a doctrine seems to us a mere play uponwords--a weak maxim only fit for children and priests. Besides, didChrist himself forgive Judas? The gospel does not say so!

When I reached my own apartments at the hotel I felt worn out andfagged. I resolved to rest and receive no visitors that day. Whilegiving my orders to Vincenzo a thought occurred to me. I went to acabinet in the room and unlocked a secret drawer. In it lay a strongleather case. I lifted this, and bade Vincenzo unstrap and open it. Hedid so, nor showed the least sign of surprise when a pair of richlyornamented pistols was displayed to his view. 

"Good weapons?" I remarked, in a casual manner. 

My vallet took each one out of the case, and examined them bothcritically. 

"They need cleaning, eccellenza. "

"Good!" I said, briefly. "Then clean them and put them in good order. Imay require to use them. "

The imperturbable Vincenzo bowed, and taking the weapons, prepared toleave the room. 

"Stay!"

He turned. I looked at him steadily. 

"I believe you are a faithful fellow, Vincenzo, " I said. 

He met my glance frankly. 

"The day may come, " I went on, quietly, "when I shall perhaps put yourfidelity to the proof. "

The dark Tuscan eyes, keen and clear the moment before, flashedbrightly and then grew humid. 

"Eccellenza, you have only to command! I was a soldier once--I knowwhat duty means. But there is a better service--gratitude. I am yourpoor servant, but you have won my heart. I would give my life for youshould you desire it!"

He paused, half ashamed of the emotion that threatened to break throughhis mask of impassibility, bowed again and would have left me, but thatI called him back and held out my hand. 

"Shake hands, amico" I said, simply. 

He caught it with an astonished yet pleased look--and stooping, kissedit before I could prevent him, and this time literally scrambled out ofmy presence with an entire oblivion of his usual dignity. Left alone, Iconsidered this behavior of his with half-pained surprise. This poorfellow loved me it was evident--why, I knew not. I had done no more forhim than any other master might have done for a good servant. I hadoften spoken to him with impatience, even harshness; and yet I had "wonhis heart"--so he said. Why should he care for me? why should my poorold butler Giacoma cherish me so devotedly in his memory; why should myvery dog still love and obey me, when my nearest and dearest, my wifeand my friend, had so gladly forsaken me, and were so eager to forgetme! Perhaps fidelity was not the fashion now among educated persons?Perhaps it was a worn-out virtue, left to the bas-peuple--to thevulgar--and to animals? Progress might have attained this result--nodoubt it had. 

I sighed wearily, and threw myself clown in an arm-chair near thewindow, and watched the white-sailed boats skimming like flecks ofsilver across the blue-green water. The tinkling of a tambourine by andby attracted my wandering attention, and looking into the street justbelow my balcony I saw a young girl dancing. She was lovely to look at, and she danced with exquisite grace as well as modesty, but the beautyof her face was not so much caused by perfection of feature or outlineas by a certain wistful expression that had in it something of nobilityand pride. I watched her; at the conclusion of her dance she held upher tambourine with a bright but appealing smile. Silver and copperwere freely flung to her, I contributing my quota to the amount; butall she received she at once emptied into a leathern bag which wascarried by a young and handsome man who accompanied her, and who, alas!was totally blind. I knew the couple well, and had often seen them;their history was pathetic enough. The girl had been betrothed to theyoung fellow when he had occupied a fairly good position as a worker insilver filigree jewelry. His eyesight, long painfully strained over hisdelicate labors, suddenly failed him--he lost his place, of course, andwas utterly without resources. He offered to release his fiance fromher engagement, but she would not take her freedom--she insisted onmarrying him at once. She had her way, and devoted herself to him souland body--danced in the streets and sung to gain a living for herselfand him; taught him to weave baskets so that he might not feel himselfentirely dependent on her, and she sold these baskets for him sosuccessfully that he was gradually making quite a little trade of them. Poor child! for she was not much more than a child--what a bright faceshe had!--glorified by the self-denial and courage of her everydaylife. No wonder she had won the sympathy of the warmhearted andimpulsive Neapolitans--they looked upon her as a heroine of romance;and as she passed through the streets, leading her blind husbandtenderly by the hand, there was not a creature in the city, even amongthe most abandoned and vile characters, who would have dared to offerher the least insult, or who would have ventured to address herotherwise than respectfully. She was good, innocent, and true; how wasit, I wondered dreamily, that I could not have won a woman's heart likehers? Were the poor alone to possess all the old world virtues--honorand faith, love and loyalty? Was there something in a life of luxurythat sapped virtue at its root? Evidently early training had little todo with after results, for had not my wife been brought up among anorder of nuns renowned for simplicity and sanctity; had not her ownfather declared her to be "as pure as a flower on the altar of theMadonna;" and yet the evil had been in her, and nothing had eradicatedit; for even religion, with her, was a mere graceful sham, a kind oftheatrical effect used to tone down her natural hypocrisy. My ownthoughts began to harass and weary me. I took up a volume ofphilosophic essays and began to read, in an endeavor to distract mymind from dwelling on the one perpetual theme. The day wore on slowlyenough; and I was glad when the evening closed in, and when Vincenzo, remarking that the night was chilly, kindled a pleasant wood-fire in myroom, and lighted the lamps. A little while before my dinner was servedhe handed me a letter stating that it had just been brought by theCountess Romani's coachman. It bore my own seal and motto. I opened it;it was dated, "La Santissima Annunziata, " and ran as follows:

"Beloved! I arrived here safely; the nuns are delighted to see me, andyou will be made heartily welcome when you come. I think of youconstantly--how happy I felt this morning! You seemed to love me somuch; why are you not always so fond of your faithful

"NINA?"

I crumpled this note fiercely in my hand and flung it into the leapingflames of the newly lighted fire. There was a faint perfume about itthat sickened me--a subtle odor like that of a civet cat when it movesstealthily after its prey through a tangle of tropical herbage. Ialways detested scented note-paper--I am not the only man who does so. One is led to fancy that the fingers of the woman who writes upon itmust have some poisonous or offensive taint about them, which sheendeavors to cover by the aid of a chemical concoction. I would notpermit myself to think of this so "faithful Nina, " as she styledherself. I resumed my reading, and continued it even at dinner, duringwhich meal Vincenzo waited upon me with his usual silent gravity anddecorum, though I could feel that he watched me with a certainsolicitude. I suppose I looked weary--I certainly felt so, and retiredto rest unusually early. The time seemed to me so long--would the endNEVER come? The next day dawned and trailed its tiresome hours afterit, as a prisoner might trail his chain of iron fetters, until sunset, and then--then, when the gray of the wintry sky flashed for a briefspace into glowing red--then, while the water looked like blood and theclouds like flame--then a few words sped along the telegraph wires thatstilled my impatience, roused my soul, and braced every nerve andmuscle in my body to instant action. They were plain, clear, andconcise:

"From Guido Ferrari, Rome, to Il Conte Cesare Olfva, Naples. --Shall bewith you on the 24th inst. Train arrives at 6:30 P. M. Will come to youas you desire without fail. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

Christmas Eve! The day had been extra chilly, with frequent showers ofstinging rain, but toward five o'clock in the afternoon the weathercleared. The clouds, which had been of a dull uniform gray, began tobreak asunder and disclose little shining rifts of pale blue and brightgold; the sea looked like a wide satin ribbon shaken out and shimmeringwith opaline tints. Flower girls trooped forth making the air musicalwith their mellow cries of "Fiori! chi vuol fiori" and holding up theirtempting wares--not bunches of holly and mistletoe such as are known inEngland, but roses, lilies, jonquils, and sweet daffodils. The shopswere brilliant with bouquets and baskets of fruits and flowers; aglittering show of etrennes, or gifts to suit all ages and conditions, were set forth in tempting array, from a box of bonbons costing onefranc to a jeweled tiara worth a million, while in many of the windowswere displayed models of the "Bethlehem, " with babe Jesus lying in hismanger, for the benefit of the round-eyed children--who, after staringfondly at His waxen image for some time, would run off hand in hand tothe nearest church where the usual Christmas creche was arranged, andthere kneeling down, would begin to implore their "dear little Jesus, "their "own little brother, " not to forget them, with a simplicity ofbelief that was as touching as it was unaffected. 

I am told that in England the principle sight on Christmas-eve are theshops of the butchers and poulterers hung with the dead carcases ofanimals newly slaughtered, in whose mouths are thrust bunches ofprickly holly, at which agreeable spectacle the passers-by gape withgluttonous approval. Surely there is nothing graceful about such acommemoration of the birth of Christ as this? nothing picturesque, nothing poetic?--nothing even orthodox, for Christ was born in theEast, and the Orientals are very small eaters, and are particularlysparing in the use of meat. One wonders what such an unusual display ofvulgar victuals has to do with the coming of the Saviour, who arrivedamong us in such poor estate that even a decent roof was denied to Him. Perhaps, though, the English people read their gospels in a way oftheir own, and understood that the wise men of the East, who aresupposed to have brought the Divine Child symbolic gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, really brought joints of beef, turkeys, and"plum-pudding, " that vile and indigestible mixture at which an Italianshrugs his shoulders in visible disgust. There is something barbaric, Isuppose, in the British customs still--something that reminds one oftheir ancient condition when the Romans conquered them--when theirsupreme idea of enjoyment was to have an ox roasted whole before themwhile they drank "wassail" till they groveled under their own tables ina worse condition than overfed swine. Coarse and vulgar plenty is stillthe leading characteristic at the dinners of English or Americanparvenus; they have scarcely any idea of the refinements that can beimparted to the prosaic necessity of eating--of the many little gracesof the table that are understood in part by the French, but thatperhaps never reach such absolute perfection of taste and skill as atthe banquets of a cultured and clever Italian noble. Some of these areveritable "feasts of the gods, " and would do honor to the fabledOlympus, and such a one I had prepared for Guido Ferrari as a greetingto him on his return from Rome--a feast of welcome and--farewell!

All the resources of the hotel at which I stayed had been brought intorequisition. The chef, a famous cordon bleu, had transferred the workof the usual table d'hote to his underlings, and had bent the powers ofhis culinary intelligence solely on the production of the magnificentdinner I had ordered. The landlord, in spite of himself, broke intoexclamations of wonder and awe as he listened to and wrote down mycommands for different wines of the rarest kinds and choicest vintages. The servants rushed hither and thither to obey my various behests, withlooks of immense importance; the head waiter, a superb official whoprided himself on his artistic taste, took the laying-out of the tableunder his entire superintendence, and nothing was talked of or thoughtof for the time but the grandeur of my proposed entertainment. 

About six o'clock I sent my carriage down to the railway station tomeet Ferrari as I had arranged; and then, at my landlord's invitation, I went to survey the stage that was prepared for one important scene ofmy drama--to see if the scenery, side-lights, and general effects wereall in working order. To avoid disarranging my own apartments, I hadchosen for my dinner-party a room on the ground-floor of the hotel, which was often let out for marriage-breakfasts and other purposes ofthe like kind; it was octagonal in shape, not too large, and I had hadit most exquisitely decorated for the occasion. The walls were hungwith draperies of gold-colored silk and crimson velvet, interspersedhere and therewith long mirrors, which were ornamented with crystalcandelabra, in which twinkled hundreds of lights under rose-tintedglass shades. At the back of the room, a miniature conservatory wasdisplayed to view, full of rare ferns and subtly perfumed exotics, inthe center of which a fountain rose and fell with regular and melodiousmurmur. Here, later on, a band of stringed instruments and a choir ofboys' voices were to be stationed, so that sweet music might be heardand felt without the performers being visible. One, and one only, ofthe long French windows of the room was left uncurtained, it was simplydraped with velvet as one drapes a choice picture, and through it theeyes rested on a perfect view of the Bay of Naples, white with thewintery moonlight. 

The dinner-table, laid for fifteen persons, glittered with sumptuousappointments of silver, Venetian glass, and the rarest flowers; thefloor was carpeted with velvet pile, in which some grains of ambergrishad been scattered, so that in walking the feet sunk, as it were, intoa bed of moss rich with the odors of a thousand spring blossoms. Thevery chairs wherein my guests were to seat themselves were of aluxurious shape and softly stuffed, so that one could lean back in themor recline at ease--in short, everything was arranged with a lavishsplendor almost befitting the banquet of an eastern monarch, and yetwith such accurate taste that there was no detail one could have wishedomitted. 

I was thoroughly satisfied, but as I know what an unwise plan it is topraise servants too highly for doing well what they are expressly paidto do, I intimated my satisfaction to my landlord by a mere carelessnod and smile of approval. He, who waited on my every gesture withabject humility, received this sign of condescension with as muchdelight as though it had come from the king himself, and I could easilysee that the very fact of my showing no enthusiasm at the result of hislabors, made him consider me a greater man than ever. I now went to myown apartments to don my evening attire; I found Vincenzo brushingevery speck of dust from my dresscoat with careful nicety--he hadalready arranged the other articles of costume neatly on my bed readyfor wear. I unlocked a dressing-case and took from thence three studs, each one formed of a single brilliant of rare clearness and lusters andhanded them to him to fix in my shirt-front. While he was polishingthese admiringly on his coat-sleeve I watched him earnestly--then Isuddenly addressed him. 

"Vincenzo!" He started. 

"Eccellenza?"

"To-night you will stand behind my chair and assist in serving thewine. "

"Yes, eccellenza. "

"You will, " I continued, "attend particularly to Sigor Ferrari, whowill sit at my right hand. Take care that his glass is never empty. "

"Yes, eccellenza. "

"Whatever may be said or done, " I went on, quietly, "you will show nosign of alarm or surprise. From the commencement of dinner till I tellyou to move, remember your place is fixed by me. "

The honest fellow looked a little puzzled, but replied as before:

"Yes, eccellenza. "

I smiled, and advancing, laid my hand on his arm. 

"How about the pistols, Vincenzo?"

"They are cleaned and ready for use, eccellenza, " he replied. "I haveplaced them in your cabinet. "

"That is well!" I said with a satisfied gesture. "You can leave me andarrange the salon for the reception of my friends. "

He disappeared, and I busied myself with my toilet, about which I wasfor once unusually particular. The conventional dress-suit is not verybecoming, yet there are a few men here and there who look well in it, and who, in spite of similarity in attire, will never be mistaken forwaiters. Others there are who, passable in appearance when clad intheir ordinary garments, reach the very acme of plebeianism when theyclothe themselves in the unaccommodating evening-dress. Fortunately, Ihappened to be one of the former class--the sober black, the broadwhite display of starched shirt-front and neat tie became me, almosttoo well I thought. It would have been better for my purposes if Icould have feigned an aspect of greater age and weightier gravity. Ihad scarcely finished my toilet when the rumbling of wheels in thecourt-yard outside made the hot blood rush to my face, and my heartbeat with feverish excitement. I left my dressing-room, however, with acomposed countenance and calm step, and entered my private salon justas its doors were flung open and "Signor Ferrari" was announced. Heentered smiling--his face was alight with good humor and gladanticipation--he looked handsomer than usual. 

"Eccomi qua!" he cried, seizing my hands enthusiastically in his own. "My dear conte, I am delighted to see you! What an excellent fellow youare! A kind of amiable Arabian Nights genius, who occupies himself inmaking mortals happy. And how are you? You look remarkably well!"

"I can return the compliment, " I said, gayly. "You are more of anAntinous than ever. "

He laughed, well pleased, and sat down, drawing off his gloves andloosening his traveling overcoat. 

"Well, I suppose plenty of cash puts a man in good humor, and thereforein good condition, " he replied. "But my dear fellow, you are dressedfor dinner--quel preux chevalier! I am positively unfit to be in yourcompany! You insisted that I should come to you directly, on myarrival, but I really must change my apparel. Your man took my valise;in it are my dress-clothes--I shall not be ten minutes putting them on. "

"Take a glass of wine first, " I said, pouring out some of his favoriteMontepulciano. "There is plenty of time. It is barely seven, and we donot dine till eight. " He took the wine from my hand and smiled. Ireturned the smile, adding, "It gives me great pleasure to receive you, Ferrari! I have been impatient for your return--almost as impatientas--" He paused in the act of drinking, and his eyes flasheddelightedly. 

"As SHE has? Piccinina! How I long to see her again! I swear to you, amico, I should have gone straight to the Villa Romani had I obeyed myown impulse--but I had promised you to come here, and, on the whole, the evening will do as well"--and he laughed with a covert meaning inhis laughter--"perhaps better!"

My hands clinched, but I said with forced gayety:

"Ma certamente! The evening will be much better! Is it not Byron whosays that women, like stars, look best at night? You will find her thesame as ever, perfectly well and perfectly charming. It must be herpure and candid soul that makes her face so fair! It may be a relief toyour mind to know that I am the only man she has allowed to visit herduring your absence!"

"Thank God for that!" cried Ferrari, devoutly, as he tossed off hiswine. "And now tell me, my dear conte, what bacchanalians are comingto-night? Per Dio, after all I am more in the humor for dinner thanlove-making!"

I burst out laughing harshly. "Of course! Every sensible man prefersgood eating even to good women! Who are my guests you ask? I believeyou know them all. First, there is the Duca Filippo Marina. "

"By Heaven!" interrupted Guido. "An absolute gentleman, who by hismanner seems to challenge the universe to disprove his dignity! Can heunbend so far as to partake of food in public? My dear conte, youshould have asked him that question!"

"Then, " I went on, not heeding this interruption, "Signor Fraschettiand the Marchese Giulano. "

"Giulano drinks deep'. " laughed Ferrari, "and should he mix his wines, you will find him ready to stab all the waiters before the dinner ishalf over. "

"In mixing wines, " I returned, coolly, "he will but imitate yourexample, caro mio. "

"Ah, but I can stand it!" he said. "He cannot! Few Neapolitans are likeme!"

I watched him narrowly, and went on with the list of my invited guests. 

"After these, comes the Capitano Luigi Freccia. "

"What! the raging fire-eater?" exclaimed Guido. "He who at every secondword raps out a pagan or Christian oath, and cannot for his life tellany difference between the two!"

"And the illustrious gentleman Crispiano Dulci and Antonio Biscardi, artists like yourself, " I continued. 

He frowned slightly--then smiled. 

"I wish them good appetites! Time was when I envied their skill--now Ican afford to be generous. They are welcome to the whole field of artas far as I am concerned. I have said farewell to the brush andpalette--I shall never paint again. "

True enough! I thought, eying the shapely white hand with which he justthen stroked his dark mustache; the same hand on which my familydiamond ring glittered like a star. He looked up suddenly. 

"Go on, conte I am all impatience. Who comes next?"

"More fire-eaters, I suppose you will call them, " I answered, "andFrench fire-eaters, too. Monsieur le Marquis D'Avencourt, and le beauCapitaine Eugene de Hamal. "

Ferrari looked astonished. "Per Bacco!" he exclaimed. "Two noted Parisduelists! Why--what need have you of such valorous associates? Iconfess your choice surprises me. "

"I understood them to be YOUR friends, " I said, composedly. "If youremember, YOU introduced me to them. I know nothing of the gentlemenbeyond that they appear to be pleasant fellows and good talkers. As fortheir reputed skill I am inclined to set that down to a mere rumor, atany rate, my dinner-table will scarcely provide a field for the displayof swordsmanship. "

Guido laughed. "Well, no! but these fellows would like to make itone--why, they will pick a quarrel for the mere lifting of an eyebrow. And the rest of your company?"

"Are the inseparable brother sculptors Carlo and Francesco Respetti, Chevalier Mancini, scientist and man of letters, Luziano Salustri, poetand musician, and the fascinating Marchese Ippolito Gualdro, whoseconversation, as you know, is more entrancing than the voice of AdelinaPatti. I have only to add, " and I smiled half mockingly, "the name ofSignor Guido Ferrari, true friend and loyal lover--and the party iscomplete. "

"Altro! Fifteen in all including yourself, " said Ferrari, gayly, enumerating them on his fingers. "Per la madre di Dio! With such agoodly company and a host who entertains en roi we shall pass a merrytime of it. And did you, amico, actually organize this banquet, merelyto welcome back so unworthy a person as myself?"

"Solely and entirely for that reason, " I replied. 

He jumped up from his chair and clapped his two hands on my shoulders. 

"A la bonne heure! But why, In the name of the saints or the devil, have you taken such a fancy to me?"

"Why have I taken such a fancy to you?" I repeated, slowly. "My dearFerrari, I am surely not alone in my admiration for your highqualities! Does not every one like you? Are you not a universalfavorite? Do you not tell me that your late friend the Count Romaniheld you as the dearest to him in the world after his wife? Ebbene! Whyunderrate yourself?"

He let his hands fall slowly from my shoulders and a look of paincontracted his features. After a little silence he said:

"Fabio again! How his name and memory haunt me! I told you he was afool--it was part of his folly that he loved me too well--perhaps. Doyou know I have thought of him very much lately?"

"Indeed?" and I feigned to be absorbed in fixing a star-like japonicain my button-hole. "How is that?"

A grave and meditative look softened the usually defiant brilliancy ofhis eyes. 

"I saw my uncle die, " he continued, speaking in a low tone. "He was anold man and had very little strength left, --yet his battle with deathwas horrible--horrible! I see him yet--his yellow convulsed face--histwisted limbs--his claw-like hands tearing at the empty air--then theghastly grim and dropped jaw--the wide-open glazed eyes--pshaw! itsickened me!"

"Well, well!" I said in a soothing way, still busying myself with thearrangement of my button-hole, and secretly wondering what new emotionwas at work in the volatile mind of my victim. "No doubt it wasdistressing to witness--but you could not have been very sorry--he wasan old man, and, though it is a platitude not worth repeating--we mustall die. "

"Sorry!" exclaimed Ferrari, talking almost more to himself than to me. "I was glad! He was an old scoundrel, deeply dyed in every sort ofsocial villainy. No--I was not sorry, only as I watched him in hisfrantic struggle, fighting furiously for each fresh gasp of breath--Ithought--I know not why--of Fabio. "

Profoundly astonished, but concealing my astonishment under an air ofindifference, I began to laugh. 

"Upon my word, Ferrari--pardon me for saying so, but the air of Romeseems to have somewhat obscured your mind! I confess I cannot followyour meaning. "

He sighed uneasily. "I dare say not! I scarce can follow it myself. Butif it was so hard for an old man to writhe himself out of life, whatmust it have been for Fabio! We were students together; we used to walkwith our arms round each other's necks like school-girls, and he wasyoung and full of vitality--physically stronger, too, than I am. Hemust have battled for life with every nerve and sinew stretched toalmost breaking. " He stopped and shuddered. "By Heaven! death should bemade easier for us! It is a frightful thing!"

A contemptuous pity arose in me. Was he coward as well as traitor? Itouched him lightly on the arm. 

"Excuse me, my young friend, if I say frankly that your dismalconversation is slightly fatiguing. I cannot accept it as a suitablepreparation for dinner! And permit me to remind you that you have stillto dress. "

The gentle satire of my tone made him look up and smile. His facecleared, and he passed his hand over his forehead, as though he sweptit free of some unpleasant thought. 

"I believe I am nervous, " he said with a half laugh. "For the last fewhours I have had all sorts of uncomfortable presentiments andforebodings. "

"No wonder!" I returned carelessly, "with such a spectacle as you havedescribed before the eyes of your memory. The Eternal City savorssomewhat disagreeably of graves. Shake the dust of the Caesars fromyour feet, and enjoy your life, while it lasts!"

"Excellent advice!" he said, smiling, "and not difficult to follow. Nowto attire for the festival. Have I your permission?"

I touched the bell which summoned Vincenzo, and bade him wait on SignerFerrari's orders. Guido disappeared under his escort, giving me alaughing nod of salutation as he left the room. I watched his retiringfigure with a strange pitifulness--the first emotion of the kind thathad awakened in me for him since I learned his treachery. His allusionto that time when we had been students together--when we had walkedwith arms round each other's necks "like school-girls, " as he said, hadtouched me more closely than I cared to realize. It was true, we hadbeen happy then--two careless youths with all the world like anuntrodden race-course before us. SHE had not then darkened the heavenof our confidence; she had not come with her false fair face to make ofME a blind, doting madman, and to transform him into a liar andhypocrite. It was all her fault, all the misery and horror; she was theblight on our lives; she merited the heaviest punishment, and she wouldreceive it. Yet, would to God we had neither of us ever seen her! Herbeauty, like a sword, had severed the bonds of friendship that afterall, when it DOES exist between two men, is better and braver than thelove of woman. However, all regrets were unavailing now; the evil wasdone, and there was no undoing it. I had little time left me forreflection; each moment that passed brought me nearer to the end I hadplanned and foreseen. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

At about a quarter to eight my guests began to arrive, and one by onethey all came in save two--the brothers Respetti. While we wereawaiting them, Ferrari entered in evening-dress, with the conscious airof a handsome man who knows he is looking his best. I readily admittedhis charm of manner; had I not myself been subjugated and fascinated byit in the old happy, foolish days? He was enthusiastically greeted andwelcomed back to Naples by all the gentlemen assembled, many of whomwere his own particular friends. They embraced him in theimpressionable style common to Italians, with the exception of thestately Duca di Marina, who merely bowed courteously, and inquired ifcertain families of distinction whom he named had yet arrived in Romefor the winter season. Ferrari was engaged in replying to thesequestions with his usual grace and ease and fluency, when a note wasbrought to me marked "Immediate. " It contained a profuse and elegantlyworded apology from Carlo Respetti, who regretted deeply that anunforeseen matter of business would prevent himself and his brotherfrom having the inestimable honor and delight of dining with me thatevening. I thereupon rang my bell as a sign that the dinner need nolonger be delayed; and, turning to those assembled, I announced to themthe unavoidable absence of two of the party. 

"A pity Francesco could not have come, " said Captain Freccia, twirlingthe ends of his long mustachios. "He loves good wine, and, betterstill, good company. "

"Caro Capitano!" broke in the musical voice of the Marchese Gualdro, "you know that our Francesco goes nowhere without his beloved Carlo. Carlo CANNOT come--altro! Francesco WILL NOT. Would that all men weresuch brothers!"

"If they were, " laughed Luziano Salustri, rising from the piano wherehe had been playing softly to himself, "half the world would be thrownout of employment. You, for instance, " turning to the MarquisD'Avencourt, "would scarce know what to do with your time. "

The marquis smiled and waved his hand with a deprecatory gesture--thathand, by the by, was remarkably small and delicately formed--it lookedalmost fragile. Yet the strength and suppleness of D'Avencourt's wristwas reputed to be prodigious by those who had seen him handle thesword, whether in play or grim earnest. 

"It is an impossible dream, " he said, in reply to the remarks ofGualdro and Salustri, "that idea of all men fraternizing together inone common pig-sty of equality. Look at the differences of caste!Birth, breeding and education make of man that high-mettled, sensitiveanimal known as gentleman, and not all the socialistic theories in theworld can force him down on the same level with the rough boor, whoseflat nose and coarse features announce him as plebeian even before onehears the tone of his voice. We cannot help these things. I do notthink we WOULD help them even if we could. "

"You are quite right, " said Ferrari. "You cannot put race-horses todraw the plow. I have always imagined that the first quarrel--the Cainand Abel affair--must have occurred through some difference of caste aswell as jealousy--for instance, perhaps Abel was a negro and Cain awhite man, or vice versa; which would account for the antipathyexisting between the races to this day. "

The Duke di Marina coughed a stately cough, and shrugged his shoulders. 

"That first quarrel, " he said, "as related in the Bible, wasexceedingly vulgar. It must have been a kind of prize-fight. Ce n'etaitpas fin. "

Gualdro laughed delightedly. 

"So like you, Marina!" he exclaimed, "to say that! I sympathize withyour sentiments! Fancy the butcher Abel piling up his reeking carcassesand setting them on fire, while on the other side stood Cain thegreen-grocer frizzling his cabbages, turnips, carrots, and othervegetable matter! What a spectacle! The gods of Olympus would havesickened at it! However, the Jewish Deity, or rather, the well-fedpriest who represented him, showed his good taste in the matter; Imyself prefer the smell of roast meat to the rather disagreeable odorof scorching vegetables!"

We laughed--and at that moment the door was thrown open, and thehead-waiter announced in solemn tones befitting his dignity--

"Le diner de Monsieur le Conte est servi!"

I at once led the way to the banqueting-room--my guests followed gayly, talking and jesting among themselves. They were all in high good humor, none of them had as yet noticed the fatal blank caused by the absenceof the brothers Respetti. I had--for the number of my guests was nowthirteen instead of fifteen. Thirteen at table! I wondered if any ofthe company were superstitious? Ferrari was not, I knew--unless hisnerves had been latterly shaken by witnessing the death of his uncle. At any rate, I resolved to say nothing that could attract the attentionof my guests to the ill-omened circumstance; if any one should noticeit, it would be easy to make light of it and of all similarsuperstitions. I myself was the one most affected by it--it had for mea curious and fatal significance. I was so occupied with theconsideration of it that I scarcely attended to the words addressed tome by the Duke di Marina, who, walking beside me, seemed disposed toconverse with more familiarity than was his usual custom. We reachedthe door of the dining-room; which at our approach was thrown wideopen, and delicious strains of music met our ears as we entered. Lowmurmurs of astonishment and admiration broke from all the gentlemen asthey viewed the sumptuous scene before them. I pretended not to heartheir eulogies, as I took my seat at the head of the table, with GuidoFerrari on my right and the Duke di Manna on my left. The music soundedlouder and more triumphant, and while all the company were seatingthemselves in the places assigned to them, a choir of young freshvoices broke forth into a Neapolitan "madrigale"--which as far as I cantranslate it ran as follows:

 "Welcome the festal hour! Pour the red wine into cups of gold! Health to the men who are strong and bold! Welcome the festal hour! Waken the echoes with riotous mirth-- Cease to remember the sorrows of earth In the joys of the festal hour! Wine is the monarch of laughter and light, Death himself shall be merry to-night! Hail to the festal hour!"

An enthusiastic clapping of hands rewarded this effort on the part ofthe unseen vocalists, and the music having ceased, conversation becamegeneral. 

"By heaven!" exclaimed Ferrari, "if this Olympian carouse is meant as awelcome to me, amico, all I can say is that I do not deserve it. Why, it is more fit for the welcome of one king to his neighbor sovereign!"

"Ebbene!" I said. "Are there any better kings than honest men? Let ushope we are thus far worthy of each other's esteem. "

He flashed a bright look of gratitude upon me and was silent, listeningto the choice and complimentary phrases uttered by the Duke di Mannaconcerning the exquisite taste displayed in the arrangement of thetable. 

"You have no doubt traveled much in the East, conte, " said thisnobleman. "Your banquet reminds me of an Oriental romance I once read, called 'Vathek. '"

"Exactly '" exclaimed Guido "I think Oliva must be Vathek himself'"

"Scarcely!" I said, smiling coldly. "I lay no claim to supernaturalexperiences. The realities of life are sufficiently wonderful for me. "

Antonio Biscardi the painter, a refined, gentle-featured man, lookedtoward us and said modestly:

"I think you are right, conte. The beauties of nature and of humanityare so varied and profound that were it not for the inextinguishablelonging after immortality which has been placed in every one of us, Ithink we should be perfectly satisfied with this world as it is. "

"You speak like an artist and a man of even temperament, " broke in theMarchese Gualdro, who had finished his soup quickly in order to be ableto talk--talking being his chief delight. "For me, I am nevercontented. I never have enough of anything! That is my nature. When Isee lovely flowers, I wish more of them--when I behold a fine sunset, Idesire many more such sunsets--when I look upon a lovely woman--"

"You would have lovely women ad infinitum!" laughed the FrenchCapitaine de Hamal. "En verite, Gualdro, you should have been a Turk!"

"And why not?" demanded Gualdro. "The Turks are very sensiblepeople--they know how to make coffee better than we do. And what morefascinating than a harem? It must be like a fragrant hot-house, whereone is free to wander every day, sometimes gathering a gorgeous lily, sometimes a simple violet--sometimes--" "A thorn?" suggested Salustri. 

"Well, perhaps!" laughed the Marchese. "Yet one would run the risk ofthat for the sake of a perfect rose. "

Chevalier Mancini, who wore in his button-hole the decoration of theLegion d'Honneur, looked up--he was a thin man with keen eyes and ashrewd face which, though at a first glance appeared stern, could atthe least provocation break up into a thousand little wrinkles oflaughter. 

"There is undoubtedly something entrainant about the idea, " heobserved, in his methodical way. "I have always fancied that marriageas we arrange it is a great mistake. "

"And that is why you have never tried it?" queried Ferrari, lookingamused. 

"Certissimamente!" and the chevalier's grim countenance began to workwith satirical humor. "I have resolved that I will never be bound overby the law to kiss only one woman. As matters stand, I can kiss themall if I like. "

A shout of merriment and cries of "Oh! oh!" greeted this remark, whichFerrari, however, did not seem inclined to take in good part. 

"All?" he said, with a dubious air. "You mean all except the marriedones?"

The chevalier put on his spectacles, and surveyed him with a sort ofcomic severity. 

"When I said ALL, I meant all, " he returned--"the married ones inparticular. They, poor things, need such attentions--and often invitethem--why not? Their husbands have most likely ceased to be amorousafter the first months of marriage. "

I burst out laughing. "You are right, Mancini, " I said; "and even ifthe husbands are fools enough to continue their gallantries theydeserve to be duped--and they generally are! Come, amico. '" I added, turning to Ferrari, "those are your own sentiments--you have oftendeclared them to me. "

He smiled uncomfortably, and his brows contracted. I could easilyperceive that he was annoyed. To change the tone of the conversation Igave a signal for the music to recommence, and instantly the melody ofa slow, voluptuous Hungarian waltz-measure floated through the room. The dinner was now fairly on its way; the appetites of my guests werestimulated and tempted by the choicest and most savory viands, preparedwith all the taste and intelligence a first rate chef can bestow on hiswork, and good wine flowed freely. 

Vincenzo obediently following my instructions, stood behind my chair, and seldom moved except to refill Ferrari's glass, and occasionally toproffer some fresh vintage to the Duke di Marina. He, however, was anabstemious and careful man, and followed the good example shown by thewisest Italians, who never mix their wines. He remained faithful to thefirst beverage he had selected--a specially fine Chianti, of which hepartook freely without its causing the slightest flush to appear on hispale aristocratic features. Its warm and mellow flavor did but brightenhis eyes and loosen his tongue, inasmuch that he became almost aselegant a talker as the Marchese Gualdro. This latter, who scarce had ascudo to call his own, and who dined sumptuously every day at otherpeople's expense for the sake of the pleasure his company afforded, wasby this time entertaining every one near him by the most sparklingstories and witty pleasantries. 

The merriment increased as the various courses were served; shouts oflaughter frequently interrupted the loud buzz of conversation, minglingwith the clinking of glasses and clattering of porcelain. Every now andthen might be heard the smooth voice of Captain Freccia rolling out hisfavorite oaths with the sonority and expression of a primo tenore;sometimes the elegant French of the Marquis D'Avencourt, with his high, sing-song Parisian accent, rang out above the voices of the others; andagain, the choice Tuscan of the poet Luziano Salustri rolled forth inmelodious cadence as though he were chanting lines from Dante orAriosto, instead of talking lightly on indifferent matters. I acceptedmy share in the universal hilarity, though I principally divided myconversation between Ferrari and the duke, paying to both, butspecially to Ferrari, that absolute attention which is the greatestcompliment a host can bestow on those whom he undertakes to entertain. 

We had reached that stage of the banquet when the game was about to beserved--the invisible choir of boys' voices had just completed anenchanting stornello with an accompaniment of mandolines--when astillness, strange and unaccountable, fell upon the company--apause--an ominous hush, as though some person supreme in authority hadsuddenly entered the room and commanded "Silence!" No one seemeddisposed to speak or to move, the very footsteps of the waiters weremuffled in the velvet pile of the carpets--no sound was heard but themeasured plash of the fountain that played among the ferns and flowers. The moon, shining frostily white through the one uncurtained window, cast a long pale green ray, like the extended arm of an appealingghost, against one side of the velvet hangings--a spectral effect whichwas heightened by the contrast of the garish glitter of the waxentapers. Each man looked at the other with a sort of uncomfortableembarrassment, and somehow, though I moved my lips in an endeavor tospeak and thus break the spell, I was at a loss, and could find nolanguage suitable to the moment. Ferrari toyed with his wine-glassmechanically--the duke appeared absorbed in arranging the crumbs besidehis plate into little methodical patterns; the stillness seemed to lastso long that it was like a suffocating heaviness in the air. SuddenlyVincenzo, in his office of chief butler, drew the cork of achampagne-bottle with a loud-sounding pop! We all started as though apistol had been fired in our ears, and the Marchese Gualdro burst outlaughing. 

"Corpo di Baceo!" he cried. "At last you have awakened from sleep! Wereyou all struck dumb, amici, that you stared at the table-cloth sopersistently and with such admirable gravity? May Saint Anthony and hispig preserve me, but for the time I fancied I was attending a banqueton the wrong side of the Styx, and that you, my present companions, were all dead men!"

"And that idea made YOU also hold your tongue, which is quite anunaccountable miracle in its way, " laughed Luziano Salustri. "Have younever heard the pretty legend that attaches to such an occurrence as asudden silence in the midst of high festivity? An angel enters, bestowing his benediction as he passes through. "

"That story is more ancient than the church, " said Chevalier Mancini. "It is an exploded theory--for we have ceased to believe in angels--wecall them women instead. "

"Bravo, mon vieux gaillard!" cried Captain de Hamal. "Your sentimentsare the same as mine, with a very trifling difference. You believewomen to be angels--I know them to be devils--mas il n'y agu'un pasentre es deux? We will not quarrel over a word--a votre sante, moncher!"

And he drained his glass, nodding to Mancini, who followed his example. 

"Perhaps, " said the smooth, slow voice of Captain Freccia, "our silencewas caused by the instinctive consciousness of something wrong with ourparty--a little inequality--which I dare say our noble host has notthought it worth while to mention. "

Every head was turned in his direction. "What do you mean?" "Whatinequality?" "Explain yourself!" chorused several voices. 

"Really it is a mere nothing, " answered Freccia, lazily, as he surveyedwith the admiring air of a gourmet the dainty portion of pheasant justplaced before him. "I assure you, only the uneducated would care twoscudi about such a circumstance. The excellent brothers Respetti are toblame--their absence to-night has caused--but why should I disturb yourequanimity? I am not superstitious--ma, chi sa?--some of you may be. "

"I see what you mean!" interrupted Salustri, quickly. "We are thirteenat table!"

CHAPTER XXIV. 

At this announcement my guests looked furtively at each other, and Icould see they were counting up the fatal number for themselves. Theywere undeniably clever, cultivated men of the world, but thesuperstitious element was in their blood, and all, with the exceptionperhaps of Freccia and the ever-cool Marquis D'Avencourt, wereevidently rendered uneasy by the fact now discovered. On Ferrari it hada curious effect--he started violently and his face flushed. "Diabolo!"he muttered, under his breath, and seizing his never-empty glass, heswallowed its contents thirstily and quickly at one gulp as thoughattacked by fever, and pushed away his plate with a hand that tremblednervously. I, meanwhile, raised my voice and addressed my guestscheerfully!

"Our distinguished friend Salustri is perfectly right, gentlemen. Imyself noticed the discrepancy in our number some time ago--but I knewthat you were all advanced thinkers, who had long since liberatedyourselves from the trammels of superstitious observances, which arethe result of priestcraft, and are now left solely to the vulgar. Therefore I said nothing. The silly notion of any misfortune attendingthe number thirteen arose, as you are aware, out of the story of theLast Supper, and children and women may possibly still give credence tothe fancy that one out of thirteen at table must be a traitor anddoomed to die. But we men know better. None of us here to-night havereason to put ourselves in the position of a Christ or a Judas--we areall good friends and boon companions, and I cannot suppose for a momentthat this little cloud can possibly affect you seriously. Remember alsothat this is Christmas-eve, and that according to the world's greatestpoet, Shakespeare, "'Then no planet strikes, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallowed and so gracious is the time. '"

A murmur of applause and a hearty clapping of hands rewarded thislittle speech, and the Marchese Gualdro sprung to his feet--

"By Heaven!" he exclaimed, "we are not a party of terrified old womento shiver on the edge of a worn-out omen! Fill your glasses, signori!More wine, garcon! Per bacco! if Judas Iscariot himself had such afeast as ours before he hanged himself, he was not much to be pitied!Hola amici! To the health of our noble host, Conte Cesare Oliva!"

He waved his glass in the air three times--every one followed hisexample and drank the toast with enthusiasm. I bowed my thanks andacknowledgments--and the superstitious dread which at first badundoubtedly seized the company passed away quickly--the talking, themerriment, and laughter were resumed, and soon it seemed as though theuntoward circumstance were entirely forgotten. Only Guido Ferrariseemed still somewhat disturbed in his mind--but even his uneasinessdissipated itself by degrees, and heated by the quantity of wine he hadtaken, he began to talk with boastful braggartism of his manysuccessful gallantries, and related his most questionable anecdotes insuch a manner as to cause some haughty astonishment in the mind of theDuke di Marina, who eyed him from time to time with ill-disguisedimpatience that bordered on contempt. I, on the contrary, listened toeverything he said with urbane courtesy--I humored him and drew him outas much as possible--I smiled complacently at his poor jokes and vulgarwitticisms--and when he said something that was more than usuallyoutrageous, I contented myself with a benevolent shake of my head, andthe mild remark:

"Ah! young blood! young blood!" uttered in a bland sotto-voce. 

The dessert was now served, and with it came the costly wines which Ihad ordered to be kept back till then. Priceless "Chateau Yquem, " "ClosVougeot, " of the rarest vintages, choice "Valpulcello" and anexceedingly superb "Lacrima Cristi"--one after the other, these weretasted, criticised, and heartily appreciated. There was also a veryunique brand of champagne costing nearly forty francs a bottle, whichwas sparkling and mellow to the palate, but fiery in quality. Thisparticular beverage was so seductive in flavor that every one partookof it freely, with the result that the most discreet among the partynow became the most uproarious. Antonio Biscardi, the quiet andunobtrusive painter, together with his fellow-student, Crispiano Dulci, usually the shyest of young men, suddenly grew excited, and utteredblatant nothings concerning their art. Captain Freccia argued theniceties of sword-play with the Marquis D'Avencourt, both speakersillustrating their various points by thrusting their dessert-knivesskillfully into the pulpy bodies of the peaches they had on theirplates. Luziano Salustri lay back at ease in his chair, his classichead reclining on the velvet cushions, and recited in low and measuredtones one of his own poems, caring little or nothing whether hisneighbors attended to him or not. The glib tongue of the MarcheseGualdro ran on smoothly and incessantly, though he frequently lost thethread of his anecdotes and became involved in a maze of contradictoryassertions. The rather large nose of the Chevalier Mancini reddenedvisibly as he laughed joyously to himself at nothing in particular--inshort, the table had become a glittering whirlpool of excitement andfeverish folly, which at a mere touch, or word out of season, mightrise to a raging storm of frothy dissension. The Duke di Marina andmyself alone of all the company were composed as usual--he had resistedthe champagne, and as for me, I had let all the splendid wines go pastme, and had not taken more than two glasses of a mild Chianti. 

I glanced keenly round the riotous board--I noted the flushed faces andrapid gesticulations of my guests, and listened to the Babel ofconflicting tongues. I drew a long breath as I looked--I calculatedthat in two or three minutes at the very least I might throw down thetrump card I had held so patiently in my hand all the evening. 

I took a close observation of Ferrari. He had edged his chair a littleaway from mine, and was talking confidentially to his neighbor, Captainde Hamal--his utterance was low and thick, but yet I distinctly heardhim enumerating in somewhat coarse language the exterior charms of awoman--what woman I did not stop to consider--the burning idea struckme that he was describing the physical perfections of my wife to thisDe Hamal, a mere spadaccino, for whom there was nothing sacred inheaven or earth. My blood rapidly heated itself to boiling point--tothis day I remember how it throbbed in my temples, leaving my hands andfeet icy cold. I rose in my seat, and tapped on the table to call forsilence and attention--but for some time the noise of argument and theclatter of tongues were so great that I could not make myself heard. The duke endeavored to second my efforts, but in vain. At lastFerrari's notice was attracted--he turned round, and seizing a dessertknife beat with it on the table and on his own plate so noisily andpersistently that the loud laughter and conversation ceased suddenly. The moment had come--I raised my head, fixed my spectacles more firmlyover my eyes, and spoke in distinct and steady tones, first of allstealing a covert glance toward Ferrari. He had sunk back again lazilyin his chair and was lighting a cigarette. 

"My friends, " I said, meeting with a smile the inquiring looks thatwere directed toward me, "I have presumed to interrupt your mirth for amoment, not to restrain it, but rather to give it a fresh impetus. Iasked you all here to-night, as you know, to honor me by your presenceand to give a welcome to our mutual friend, Signor Guido Ferrari. " HereI was interrupted by a loud clapping of hands and ejaculations ofapproval, while Ferrari himself murmured affably between two puffs ofhis cigarette. "Tropp' onore, amico, tropp' onore!" I resumed, "Thisyoung and accomplished gentleman, who is, I believe, a favorite withyou all, has been compelled through domestic affairs to absent himselffrom our circle for the past few weeks, and I think he must himself beaware how much we have missed his pleasant company. It will, however, be agreeable to you, as it has been for me, to know that he hasreturned to Naples a richer man than when he left it--that fortune hasdone him justice, and that with the possession of abundant wealth he isat last called upon to enjoy the reward due to his merits!"

Here there was more clapping of hands and exclamations of pleasure, while those who were seated near Ferrari raised their glasses and drankto his health with congratulations, all of which courtesies heacknowledged by a nonchalant, self-satisfied bow. I glanced at himagain--how tranquil he looked!--reclining among the crimson cushions ofhis chair, a brimming glass of champagne beside him, the cigarettebetween his lips, and his handsome face slightly upturned, though hiseyes rested half drowsily on the uncurtained window through which theBay of Naples was seen glittering in the moonlight. 

I continued: "It was, gentlemen, that you might welcome andcongratulate Signor Ferrari as you have done, that I assembled you hereto-night--or rather, let me say it was PARTLY the object of our presentfestivity--but there is yet another reason which I shall now have thepleasure of explaining to you--a reason which, as it concerns myselfand my immediate happiness, will, I feel confident, secure yoursympathy and good wishes. "

This time every one was silent, intently following my words. 

"What I am about to say, " I went on, calmly, "may very possiblysurprise you. I have been known to you as a man of few words, and, Ifear, of abrupt and brusque manners"--cries of "No, no!" mingled withvarious complimentary assurances reached my ears from all sides of thetable. I bowed with a gratified air, and when silence was restored--"Atany rate you would not think me precisely the sort of man to take alady's fancy. " A look of wonder and curiosity was now exchanged amongmy guests. Ferrari took his cigarette out of his mouth and stared at mein blank astonishment. 

"No, " I went on, meditatively, "old as I am, and a half-blind invalidbesides, it seems incredible that any woman should care to look at memore than twice en passant. But I have met--let me say with theChevalier Mancini--an angel--who has found me not displeasing to her, and--in short--I am going to marry!"

There was a pause. Ferrari raised himself slightly from his recliningposition and seemed about to speak, but apparently changing his mind heremained silent--his face had somewhat paled. The momentary hesitationamong my guests passed quickly. All present, except Guido, broke outinto a chorus of congratulations, mingled with good-humored jesting andlaughter. 

"Say farewell to jollity, conte!" cried Chevalier Mancini; "once drawnalong by the rustling music of a woman's gown, no more such feasts aswe have had to-night!"

And he shook his head with tipsy melancholy. 

"By all the gods!" exclaimed Gualdro, "your news has surprised me! Ishould have thought you were the last man to give up liberty for thesake of a woman. ONE woman, too! Why, man, freedom could give youtwenty!"

"Ah!" murmured Salustri, softly and sentimentally, "but the one perfectpearl--the one flawless diamond--"

"Bah! Salustri, caro mio, you are half asleep!" returned Gualdro. "'Tisthe wine talks, not you. Thou art conquered by the bottle, amico. You, the darling of all the women in Naples, to talk of one! Buona notte, bambino!"

I still maintained my standing position, leaning my two hands on thetable before me. 

"What our worthy Gualdro says, " I went on, "is perfectly true. I havebeen noted for my antipathy to the fair sex. I know it. But when one ofthe loveliest among women comes out of her way to tempt me--when sheherself displays the matchless store of her countless fascinations formy attraction--when she honors me by special favors and makes meplainly aware that I am not too presumptuous in venturing to aspire toher hand in marriage--what can I do but accept with a good grace thefortune thrown to me by Providence? I should be the most ungrateful ofmen were I to refuse so precious a gift from Heaven, and I confess Ifeel no inclination to reject what I consider to be the certainty ofhappiness. I therefore ask you all to fill your glasses, and do me thefavor to drink to the health and happiness of my future bride. "

Gualdro sprung erect, his glass held high in the air; every manfollowed his example, Ferrari rose to his feet with some unsteadiness, while the hand that held his full champagne glass trembled. 

The Duke di Marina, with a courteous gesture, addressed me: "You will, of course, honor us by disclosing the name of the fair lady whom we areprepared to toast with all befitting reverence?"

"I was about to ask the same question, " said Ferrari, in hoarseaccents--his lips were dry, and he appeared to have some difficulty inspeaking. "Possibly we are not acquainted with her?"

"On the contrary, " I returned, eying him steadily with a cool smile. "You all know her name well! Illustrissimi Signori!" and my voice rangout clearly--"to the health of my betrothed wife, the Contessa Romani!"

"Liar!" shouted Ferrari--and with all a madman's fury he dashed hisbrimming glass of champagne full in my face! In a second the wildestscene of confusion ensued. Every man left his place at table andsurrounded us. I stood erect and perfectly calm--wiping with myhandkerchief the little runlets of wine that dripped from myclothing--the glass had fallen at my feet, striking the table as itfell and splitting itself to atoms. 

"Are you drunk or mad, Ferrari?" cried Captain de Hamal, seizing him bythe arm--"do you know what you have done?"

Ferrari glared about him like a tiger at bay--his face was flushed andswollen like that of a man in apoplexy--the veins in his forehead stoodout like knotted cords--his breath came and went hard as though he hadbeen running. He turned his rolling eyes upon me. "Damn you!" hemuttered through his clinched teeth--then suddenly raising his voice toa positive shriek, he cried, "I will have your blood if I have to tearyour heart for it!"--and he made an effort to spring upon me. TheMarquis D'Avencourt quietly caught his other arm and held it as in avise. 

"Not so fast, not so fast, mon cher" he said, coolly. "We are notmurderers, we! What devil possesses you, that you offer suchunwarrantable insult to our host?"

"Ask HIM!" replied Ferrari, fiercely, struggling to release himselffrom the grasp of the two Frenchmen--"he knows well enough! Ask HIM!"

All eyes were turned inquiringly upon me. I was silent. 

"The noble conte is really not bound to give any explanation, " remarkedCaptain Freccia--"even admitting he were able to do so. "

"I assure you, my friends, " I said, "I am ignorant of the cause of thisfracas, except that this young gentleman had pretensions himself to thehand of the lady whose name affects him so seriously!"

For a moment I thought Ferrari would have choked. 

"Pretensions--pretensions!" he gasped. "Gran Dio! Hear him!--hear themiserable scoundrel!"

"Ah, basta!" exclaimed Chevalier Mancini, scornfully--"Is that all? Amere bagatelle! Ferrari, you were wont to be more sensible! What!quarrel with an excellent friend for the sake of a woman who happens toprefer him to you! Ma che! Women are plentiful--friends are few. "

"If, " I resumed, still methodically wiping the stains of wine from mycoat and vest--"if Signor Ferrari's extraordinary display of temper isa mere outcome of natural disappointment, I am willing to excuse it. Heis young and hotblooded--let him apologize, and I shall freely pardonhim. "

"By my faith!" said the Duke di Marina with indignation, "suchgenerosity is unheard of, conte! Permit me to remark that it isaltogether exceptional, after such ungentlemanly conduct. "

Ferrari looked from one to the other in silent fury. His face had grownpale as death. He wrenched himself from the grasp of D'Avencourt and DeHamal. 

"Fools! let me go!" he said, savagely. "None of you are on my side--Isee that!" He stepped to the table, poured out a glass of water anddrank it off. He then turned and faced me--his head thrown back, hiseyes blazing with wrath and pain. 

"Liar!" he cried again, "double-faced accursed liar! You have stolenHER--you have fooled ME--but, by G-d, you shall pay for it with yourlife!"

"Willingly!" I said, with a mocking smile, restraining by a gesture thehasty exclamations of those around me who resented this freshattack--"most willingly, caro signor! But excuse me if I fail to seewherein you consider yourself wronged. The lady who is now my fianceehas not the slightest affection for you--she told me so herself. Hadshe entertained any such feelings I might have withdrawn myproposals--but as matters stand, what harm have I done you?"

A chorus of indignant voices interrupted me. "Shame on you, Ferrari!"cried Gualdro. "The count speaks like a gentleman and a man of honor. Were I in his place you should have had no word of explanationwhatever. I would not have condescended to parley with you--by Heaven Iwould not!"

"Nor I!" said the duke, stiffly. 

"Nor I!" said Mancini. 

"Surely, " said Luziana Salustri, "Ferrari will make the amendehonorable. "

There was a pause. Each man looked at Ferrari with some anxiety. Thesuddenness of the quarrel had sobered the whole party more effectuallythan a cold douche. Ferrari's face grew more and more livid till hisvery lips turned a ghastly blue--he laughed aloud in bitter scorn. Then, walking steadily up to me, with his eyes full of baffledvindictiveness, he said, in a low clear tone:

"You say that--you say she never cared for me--YOU! and I am toapologize to you! Thief, coward, traitor--take that for my apology!"And he struck me across the mouth with his bare hand so fiercely thatthe diamond ring he wore (my diamond ring) cut my flesh and slightlydrew blood. A shout of anger broke from all present! I turned to theMarquis D'Avencourt. 

"There can be but one answer to this, " I said, with indifferentcoldness. "Signor Ferrari has brought it on himself. Marquis, will youdo me the honor to arrange the affair?"

The marquis bowed, "I shall be most happy!"

Ferrari glared about him for a moment and then said, "Freccia, you willsecond me?"

Captain Freccia shrugged his shoulders. "You must positively excuseme, " he said. "My conscience will not permit me to take up such aremarkably wrong cause as yours, cara mio! I shall be pleased to actwith D'Avencourt for the count, if he will permit me. " The marquisreceived him with cordiality, and the two engaged in earnestconversation. Ferrari next proffered his request to his quondam friendDe Hamal, who also declined to second him, as did every one among thecompany. He bit his lips in mortification and wounded vanity, andseemed hesitating what to do next, when the marquis approached him withfrigid courtesy and appeared to offer him some suggestions in a lowtone of voice--for after a few minutes' converse, Ferrari suddenlyturned on his heel and abruptly left the room without another word orlook. At the same instant I touched Vincenzo, who, obedient to hisorders, had remained an impassive but evidently astonished spectator ofall that had passed, and whispered--"Follow that man and do not let himsee you. " He obeyed so instantly that the door had scarcely closed uponFerrari when Vincenzo had also disappeared. The Marquis D'Avencourt nowcame up to me. 

"Your opponent has gone to find two seconds, " he said. "As youperceived, no one here would or could support him. It is a mostunfortunate affair. "

"Most unfortunate, " chorused De Hamal, who, though not in it, appearedthoroughly to enjoy it. 

"For my part, " said the Duke di Marina, "I wonder how our noble friendcould be so lenient with such a young puppy. His conceit isinsufferable!"

Others around me made similar remarks, and were evidently anxious toshow how entirely they were on my side. I however remained silent, lestthey should see how gratified I was at the success of my scheme. Themarquis addressed me again:

"While awaiting the other seconds, who are to find us here, " he said, with a glance at his watch, "Freccia and I have arranged a fewpreliminaries. It is now nearly midnight. We propose that the affairshould come off in the morning at six precisely. Will that suit you?"

I bowed. 

"As the insulted party you have the choice of weapons. Shall we say--"

"Pistols, " I replied briefly. 

"A la bonne heure! Then, suppose we fix upon the plot of open groundjust behind the hill to the left of the Casa Ghirlande--between thatand the Villa Romani--it is quiet and secluded, and there will be nofear of interruption. "

I bowed again. 

"Thus it stands, " continued the marquis, affably--"the hour of six--theweapons pistols--the paces to be decided hereafter when the otherseconds arrive. "

I professed myself entirely satisfied with these arrangements, andshook hands with my amiable coadjutor. I then looked round at the restof the assembled company with a smile at their troubled faces. 

"Gentlemen, " I said, "our feast has broken up in a rather disagreeablemanner--and I am sorry for it, the more especially as it compels me topart from you. Receive my thanks for your company, and for thefriendship you have displayed toward me! I do not believe that this isthe last time I shall have the honor of entertaining you--but if itshould be so, I shall at any rate carry a pleasant remembrance of youinto the next world! If on the contrary I should survive the combat ofthe morning, I hope to see you all again on my marriage-day, whennothing shall occur to mar our merriment. In the meantime--good-night!"

They closed round me, pressing my hands warmly and assuring me of theirentire sympathy with me in the quarrel that had occurred. The duke wasespecially cordial, giving me to understand that had the others failedin their services, he himself, in spite of his dignity and peace-lovingdisposition, would have volunteered as my second. I escaped from themall at last and reached the quiet of my own apartments. There I satalone for more than an hour, waiting for the return of Vincenzo, whom Ihad sent to track Ferrari. I heard the departing footsteps of my guestsas they left the hotel by twos and threes--I heard the equable voicesof the marquis and Captain Freccia ordering hot coffee to be served tothem in a private room where they were to await the other seconds--nowand then I caught a few words of the excited language of the waiterswho were volubly discussing the affair as they cleared away the remainsof the superb feast at which, though none knew it save myself, deathhad been seated. Thirteen at table! One was a traitor and one must die. I knew which one. No presentiment lurked in my mind as to the doubtfulresult of the coming combat. It was not my lot to fall--my time had notcome yet--I felt certain of that! No! All the fateful forces of theuniverse would help me to keep alive till my vengeance was fulfilled. Oh, what bitter shafts of agony Ferrari carried in his heart at thatmoment, I thought. HOW he had looked when I said she never cared forhim! Poor wretch! I pitied him even while I rejoiced at his torture. Hesuffered now as I had suffered--he was duped as I had been duped--andeach quiver of his convulsed face and tormented frame had been fraughtwith satisfaction to me! Each moment of his life was now a pang to him. Well! it would soon be over--thus far at least I was merciful. I drewout pens and paper and commenced to write a few last instructions, incase the result of the fight should be fatal to me. I made them veryconcise and brief--I knew, while writing, that they would not beneeded. Still--for the sake of form I wrote--and sealing the document, I directed it to the Duke di Marina. I looked at my watch--it was pastone o'clock and Vincenzo had not yet returned. I went to the window, and drawing back the curtains, surveyed the exquisitely peaceful scenethat lay before me. The moon was still high and bright--and herreflection made the waters of the bay appear like a warrior's coat ofmail woven from a thousand glittering links of polished steel. Here andthere, from the masts of anchored brigs and fishing-boats gleamed a fewred and green lights burning dimly like fallen and expiring stars. There was a heavy unnatural silence everywhere--it oppressed me, and Ithrew the window wide open for air. Then came the sound of bellschiming softly. People passed to and fro with quiet footsteps--somepaused to exchange friendly greetings. I remembered the day with a sortof pang at my heart. The night was over, though as yet there was nosign of dawn--and--it was Christmas morning!

CHAPTER XXV. 

The opening of the room door aroused me from my meditations. Iturned--to find Vincenzo standing near me, hat in hand--he had justentered. 

"Ebbene!" I said, with a cheerful air--"what news?"

"Eccellenza, you have been obeyed. The young Signor Ferrari is now athis studio. "

"You left him there?"

"Yes, eccellenza"--and Vincenzo proceeded to give me a graphic accountof his adventures. On leaving the banqueting-room, Ferrari had taken acarriage and driven straight to the Villa Romani--Vincenzo, unperceived, had swung himself on to the back of the vehicle and hadgone also. 

"Arriving there, " continued my valet, "he dismissed the fiacre--andrang the gate-bell furiously six or seven times. No one answered. I hidmyself among the trees and watched. There were no lights in the villawindows--all was darkness. He rang it again--he even shook the gate asthough he would break it open. At last the poor Giacomo came, halfundressed and holding a lantern in his hand--he seemed terrified, andtrembled so much that the lantern jogged up and down like acorpse-candle on a tomb. 

"'I must see the contessa, ' said the young signor, Giacomo blinked likean owl, and coughed as though the devil scratched in his throat. 

"'The contessa!' he said. 'She is gone!'

"The signor then threw himself upon Giacomo and shook him to and fro asthough he were a bag of loose wheat. 

"'Gone!' and he screamed like a madman! 'WHERE? Tell me WHERE, dolt!idiot! driveler! before I twist your neck for you!'

"Truly, eccellenza, I would have gone to the rescue of the poorGiacomo, but respect for your commands kept me silent. 'A thousandpardons, signor!' he whispered, out of breath with his shaking. ' I willtell you instantly--most instantly. She is at the Convento dell'Annunziata--ten miles from here--the saints know I speak the truth--sheleft two days since. '

"The Signor Ferrari then flung away the unfortunate Giacomo with somuch force that he fell in a heap on the pavement and broke his lanternto pieces. The old man set up a most pitiful groaning, but the signorcared nothing for that. He was mad, I think. 'Get to bed!' he cried, 'and sleep--sleep till you die! Tell your mistress when you see herthat I came to kill her! My curse upon this house and all who dwell init!' And with that he ran so quickly through the garden into thehigh-road that I had some trouble to follow him. There after walkingunsteadily for a few paces, he suddenly fell down, senseless. "

Vincenzo paused. "Well, " I said, "what happened next?"

"Eccellenza, I could not leave him there without aid. I drew my cloakwell up to my mouth and pulled my hat down over my eyes so that hecould not recognize me. Then I took water from the fountain close byand dashed it on his face. He soon came to himself, and, taking me fora stranger, thanked me for my assistance, saying that he had a suddenshock. He then drank greedily from the fountain and went on his way. "

"You followed?"

"Yes, eccellenza--at a little distance. He next visited a common tavernin one of the back streets of the city and came out with two men. Theywere well dressed--they had the air of gentlemen spoiled by badfortune. The signor talked with them for some time--he seemed muchexcited. I could not hear what they said except at the end, when thesetwo strangers consented to appear as seconds for Signor Ferrari, andthey at once left him, to come straight to this hotel. And they arearrived, for I saw them through a half-opened door as I came in, talking with the Marquis D'Avencourt. "

"Well!" I said, "and what of Signor Ferrari when he was left alone byhis two friends?"

"There is not much more to tell, eccellenza. He went up the little hillto his own studio, and I noticed that he walked like a very old manwith his head bent. Once he stopped and shook his fist in the air asthough threatening some one. He let himself in at his door with aprivate key--and I saw him no more. I felt that he would not come outagain for some time. And as I moved away to return here, I heard asound as of terrible weeping. "

"And that is all, Vincenzo?"

"That is all, eccellenza. "

I was silent. There was something in the simple narration that touchedme, though I remained as determinately relentless as ever. After a fewmoments I said:

"You have done well, Vincenzo. You are aware how grossly this young manhas insulted me--and that his injurious treatment can only be wiped outin one way. That way is already arranged. You can set out those pistolsyou cleaned. "

Vincenzo obeyed--but as he lifted the heavy case of weapons and setthem on the table, he ventured to remark, timidly:

"The eccellenza knows it is now Christmas-day?"

"I am quite aware of the fact, " I said somewhat frigidly. 

In nowise daunted he went on, "Coming back just now I saw the bigNicolo--the eccellenza has doubtless seen him often?--he is avine-grower, and they say he is the largest man in Naples--three monthssince he nearly killed his brother--ebbene! To-night that same bigNicolo is drinking Chianti with that same brother, and both shoutedafter me as I passed, 'Hola! Vincenzo Flamma! all is well between usbecause it is the blessed Christ's birthday. '" Vincenzo stopped andregarded me wistfully. 

"Well!" I said, calmly, "what has the big Nicolo or his brother to dowith me?"

My valet hesitated--looked up--then down--finally he said, simply, "Maythe saints preserve the eccellenza from all harm!"

I smiled gravely. "Thank you, my friend! I understand what you mean. Have no fear for me. I am now going to lie down and rest till fiveo'clock or thereabouts--and I advise you to do the same. At that timeyou can bring me some coffee. "

And I nodded kindly to him as I left him and entered my sleepingapartment, where I threw myself on the bed, dressed as I was. I had nointention of sleeping--my mind was too deeply engrossed by all I hadgone through. I could enter into Guido's feelings--had I not sufferedas he was now suffering?--nay! more than he--for HE, at any rate, wouldnot be buried alive! I should take care of that! HE would not have toendure the agony of breaking loose from the cold grasp of the grave tocome back to life and find his name slandered, and his vacant placefilled up by a usurper. Do what I would, I could not torture him asmuch as I myself had been tortured. That was a pity--death, sudden andalmost painless, seemed too good for him. I held up my hand in the halflight and watched it closely to see if it trembled ever so slightly. No! it was steady as a rock--I felt I was sure of my aim. I would notfire at his heart, I thought but just above it--for I had to rememberone thing--he must live long enough to recognize me before he died. THAT was the sting I reserved for his last moments! The sick dreamsthat had bewildered my brain when I was taken ill at the aubergerecurred to me. I remembered the lithe figure, so like Guido, that hadglided in the Indian canoe toward me and had plunged a dagger threetimes in my heart? Had it not been realized? Had not Guido stabbed methrice?--in his theft of my wife's affections--in his contempt for mylittle dead child--in his slanders on my name? Then why such foolishnotions of pity--of forgiveness, that were beginning to steal into mymind? It was too late now for forgiveness--the very idea of it onlyrose out of a silly sentimentalism awakened by Ferrari's allusion toour young days--days for which, after all, he really cared nothing. Meditating on all these things, I suppose I must have fallen byimperceptible degrees into a doze which gradually deepened till itbecame a profound and refreshing sleep. From this I was awakened by aknocking at the door. I arose and admitted Vincenzo, who enteredbearing a tray of steaming coffee. 

"Is it already so late?" I asked him. 

"It wants a quarter to five, " replied Vincenzo--then looking at me insome surprise, he added, "Will not the eccellenza change hisevening-dress?"

I nodded in the affirmative--and while I drank my coffee my valet setout a suit of rough tweed, such as I was accustomed to wear every day. He then left me, and I quickly changed my attire, and while I did so Iconsidered carefully the position of affairs. Neither the MarquisD'Avencourt nor Captain Freccia had ever known me personally when I wasFabio Romani--nor was it at all probable that the two tavern companionsof Ferrari had ever seen me. A surgeon would be on the field--mostprobably a stranger. Thinking over these points, I resolved on a boldstroke--it was this--that when I turned to face Ferrari in the combat, I would do so with uncovered eyes--I would abjure my spectaclesaltogether for the occasion. Vaguely I wondered what the effect wouldbe upon him. I was very much changed even without these disguisingglasses--my white beard and hair had seemingly altered my aspect--yet Iknew there was something familiar in the expression of my eyes thatcould not fail to startle one who had known me well. My seconds wouldconsider it very natural that I should remove the smoke-coloredspectacles in order to see my aim unencumbered--the only person likelyto be disconcerted by my action was Ferrari himself. The more I thoughtof it the more determined I was to do it. I had scarcely finisheddressing when Vincenzo entered with my overcoat, and informed me thatthe marquis waited for me, and that a close carriage was in attendanceat the private door of the hotel. 

"Permit me to accompany you, eccellenza!" pleaded the faithful fellow, with anxiety in the tone of his voice. 

"Come then, amico!" I said, cheerily. "If the marquis makes noobjection I shall not. But you must promise not to interrupt any of theproceedings by so much as an exclamation. "

He promised readily, and when I joined the marquis he followed, carrying my case of pistols. 

"He can be trusted, I suppose?" asked D'Avencourt, glancing keenly athim while shaking hands cordially with me. 

"To the death!" I replied, laughingly. "He will break his heart if heis not allowed to bind up my wounds!"

"I see you are in good spirits, conte, " remarked Captain Freccia, as wetook our seats in the carriage. "It is always the way with the man whois in the right. Ferrari, I fear, is not quite so comfortable. "

And he proffered me a cigar, which I accepted. Just as we were about tostart, the fat landlord of the hotel rushed toward us, and laying holdof the carriage door--"Eccellenza, " he observed in a confidentialwhisper, "of course this is only a matter of coffee and glorias? Theywill be ready for you all on your return. I know--I understand!" And hesmiled and nodded a great many times, and laid his finger knowingly onthe side of his nose. We laughed heartily, assuring him that hisperspicuity was wonderful, and he stood on the broad steps in high goodhumor, watching us as our vehicle rumbled heavily away. 

"Evidently, " I remarked, "he does not consider a duel as a seriousaffair. "

"Not he!" replied Freccia. "He has known of too many sham fights to beable to understand a real one. D'Avencourt knows something about thattoo, though he always kills his man. But very often it is sufficient toscratch one another with the sword-point so as to draw a quarter of adrop of blood, and honor is satisfied! Then the coffee and glorias arebrought, as suggested by our friend the landlord. "

"It is a ridiculous age, " said the marquis, taking his cigar from hismouth, and complacently surveying his small, supple white hand, "thoroughly ridiculous, but I determined it should never make a fool ofME. You see, my dear conte, nowadays a duel is very frequently decidedwith swords rather than pistols, and why? Because cowards fancy it ismuch more difficult to kill with the sword. But not at all. Long ago Imade up my mind that no man should continue to live who dared to insultme. I therefore studied swordplay as an art. And I assure you it is asimple matter to kill with the sword--remarkably simple. My opponentsare astonished at the ease with which I dispatch them!"

Freccia laughed. "De Hamal is a pupil of yours, marquis, is he not?"

"I regret to say yes! He is marvelously clumsy. I have often earnestlyrequested him to eat his sword rather than handle it so boorishly. Yethe kills his men, too, but in a butcher-like manner--totally withoutgrace or refinement. I should say he was about on a par with our twoassociates, Ferrari's seconds. "

I roused myself from a reverie into which I had fallen. 

"What men are they?" I inquired. 

"One calls himself the Capitano Ciabatti, the other Cavaliere Dursi, atyour service, " answered Freccia, indifferently. "Good swearers both andhard drinkers--filled with stock phrases, such as 'our distinguisheddear friend, Ferrari, 'wrongs which can only be wiped out byblood'--all bombast and braggadocio! These fellows would as soon be onone side as the other. "

He resumed his smoking, and we all three lapsed into silence. The driveseemed very long, though in reality the distance was not great. At lastwe passed the Casa Ghirlande, a superb chateau belonging to adistinguished nobleman who in former days had been a friendly neighborto me, and then our vehicle jolted down a gentle declivity which slopedinto a small valley, where there was a good-sized piece of smooth flatgreensward. From this spot could be faintly discerned the castellatedturrets of my own house, the Villa Romani. Here we came to astandstill. Vincenzo jumped briskly down from his seat beside thecoachman, and assisted us to alight. The carriage then drove off to aretired corner behind some trees. We surveyed the ground, and saw thatas yet only one person beside ourselves had arrived. This was thesurgeon, a dapper good-humored little German who spoke bad French andworse Italian, and who shook hands cordially with us all. On learningwho I was he bowed low and smiled very amiably. "The best wish I canoffer to you, signor, " he said, "is that you may have no occasion formy services. You have reposed yourself? That is well--sleep steadiesthe nerves. Ach! you shiver! True it is, the morning is cold. "

I did indeed experience a passing shudder, but not because the air waschilly. It was because I felt certain--so terribly certain, of killingthe man I had once loved well. Almost I wished I could also feel thatthere was the slightest possibility of his killing me; but no!--all myinstincts told me there was no chance of this. I had a sort of sickpain at my heart, and as I thought of HER, the jewel-eyed snake who hadwrought all the evil, my wrath against her increased tenfold. Iwondered scornfully what she was doing away in the quiet convent wherethe sacred Host, unveiled, glittered on the altar like a star of themorning. No doubt she slept; it was yet too early for her to practiceher sham sanctity. She slept, in all probability most peacefully, whileher husband and her lover called upon death to come and decide betweenthem. The slow clear strokes of a bell chiming from the city tolledsix, and as its last echo trembled mournfully on the wind there was aslight stir among my companions. I looked and saw Ferrari approachingwith his two associates. He walked slowly, and was muffled in a thickcloak; his hat was pulled over his brows, and I could not see theexpression of his face, as he did not turn his head once in mydirection, but stood apart leaning against the trunk of a leaflesstree. The seconds on both sides now commenced measuring the ground. 

"We are agreed as to the distance, gentlemen, " said the marquis. "Twenty paces, I think?"

"Twenty paces, " stiffly returned one of Ferrari's friends--abattered-looking middle-aged roue with ferocious mustachios, whom Ipresumed was Captain Ciabatti. 

They went on measuring carefully and in silence. During the pause Iturned my back on the whole party, slipped off my spectacles and putthem in my pocket. Then I lowered the brim of my hat slightly so thatthe change might not be observed too suddenly--and resuming my firstposition, I waited. It was daylight though not full morning--the sunhad not yet risen, but there was an opaline luster in the sky, and onepale pink streak in the east like the floating pennon from the lance ofa hero, which heralded his approach. There was a gentle twittering ofawakening birds--the grass sparkled with a million tiny drops of frostydew. A curious calmness possessed me. I felt for the time as though Iwere a mechanical automaton moved by some other will than my own. I hadno passion left. 

The weapons were now loaded--and the marquis, looking about him with acheerful business-like air, remarked:

"I think we may now place our men?"

This suggestion agreed to, Ferrari left his place near the tree againstwhich he had in part inclined as though fatigued, and advanced to thespot his seconds pointed out to him. He threw off his hat and overcoat, thereby showing that he was still in his evening-dress. His face washaggard and of a sickly paleness--his eyes had dark rings of pain roundthem, and were full of a keen and bitter anguish. He eagerly graspedthe pistol they handed to him, and examined it closely with vengefulinterest. I meanwhile also threw off my hat and coat--the marquisglanced at me with careless approval. 

"You look a much younger man without your spectacles, conte, " heremarked as he handed me my weapon. I smiled indifferently, and took upmy position at the distance indicated, exactly opposite Ferrari. He wasstill occupied in the examination of his pistol, and did not at oncelook up. 

"Are we ready, gentlemen?" demanded Freccia, with courteous coldness. 

"Quite ready, " was the response. The Marquis D'Avencourt took out hishandkerchief. Then Ferrari raised his head and faced me fully for thefirst time. Great Heaven! shall I ever forget the awful change thatcame over his pallid countenance--the confused mad look of hiseyes--the startled horror of his expression! His lips moved as thoughhe were about to utter an exclamation--he staggered. 

"One!" cried D'Avencourt. 

We raised our weapons. 

"Two!"

The scared and bewildered expression of Ferrari's face deepened visiblyas he eyed me steadily in taking aim. I smiled proudly--I gave him backglance for glance--I saw him waver--his hand shook. 

"Three!" and the white handkerchief fluttered to the ground. Instantly, and together, we fired. Ferrari's bullet whizzed past me, merelytearing my coat and grazing my shoulder. The smoke cleared--Ferraristill stood erect, opposite to me, staring straight forward with thesame frantic faroff look--the pistol had dropped from his hand. Suddenly he threw up his arms--shuddered--and with a smothered groanfell, face forward, prone on the sward. The surgeon hurried to his sideand turned him so that he lay on his back. He was unconscious--thoughhis dark eyes were wide open, and turned blindly upward to the sky. Thefront of his shirt was already soaked with blood. We all gathered roundhim. 

"A good shot?" inquired the marquis, with the indifference of apracticed duelist. 

"Ach! a good shot indeed!" replied the little German doctor, shakinghis head as he rose from his examination of the wound. "Excellent! Hewill be dead in ten minutes. The bullet has passed through the lungsclose to the heart. Honor is satisfied certainly!"

At that moment a deep anguished sigh parted the lips of the dying man. Sense and speculation returned to those glaring eyes so awfullyupturned. He looked upon us all doubtfully one after the other--tillfinally his gaze rested upon me. Then he grew strangely excited--hislips moved--he eagerly tried to speak. The doctor, watchful of hismovements, poured brandy between his teeth. The cordial gave himmomentary strength--he raised himself by a supreme effort. 

"Let me speak, " he gasped faintly, "to HIM!" And he pointed to me--thenhe continued to mutter like a man in a dream--"tohim--alone--alone!--to him alone!"

The others, slightly awed by his manner, drew aside out of ear-shot, and I advanced and knelt beside him, stooping my face between his andthe morning sky. His wild eyes met mine with a piteous beseechingterror. 

"In God's name, " he whispered, thickly, "WHO ARE YOU?"

"You know me, Guido!" I answered, steadily. "I am Fabio Romani, whomyou once called friend! I am he whose wife you stole!--whose name youslandered!--whose honor you despised! Ah! look at me well! your ownheart tells you who I am!"

He uttered a low moan and raised his hand with a feeble gesture. 

"Fabio? Fabio?" he gasped. "He died--I saw him in his coffin--"

I leaned more closely over him. "I was BURIED ALIVE, " I said withthrilling distinctness. "Understand me, Guido--buried alive! Iescaped--no matter how. I came home--to learn your treachery and my owndishonor! Shall I tell you more?"

A terrible shudder shook his frame--his head moved restlessly to andfro, the sweat stood in large drops upon his forehead. With my ownhandkerchief I wiped his lips and brow tenderly--my nerves were strungup to an almost brittle tension--I smiled as a woman smiles when on theverge of hysterical weeping. 

"You know the avenue, " I said, "the dear old avenue, where thenightingales sing? I saw you there, Guido--with HER!--on the very nightof my return from death--SHE was in your arms--you kissed her--youspoke of me--you toyed with the necklace on her white breast!"

He writhed under my gaze with a strong convulsive movement. 

"Tell me--quick!" he gasped. "Does--SHE--know you?"

"Not yet!" I answered, slowly. "But soon she will--when I have marriedher!"

A look of bitter anguish filled his straining eyes. "Oh, God, God!" heexclaimed with a groan like that of a wild beast in pain. "This ishorrible, too horrible! Spare me--spare--" A rush of blood choked hisutterance. His breathing grew fainter and fainter; the livid hue ofapproaching dissolution spread itself gradually over his countenance. Staring wildly at me, he groped with his hands as though he searchedfor some lost thing. I took one of those feebly wandering hands withinmy own, and held it closely clasped. 

"You know the rest, " I said gently; "you understand my vengeance! Butit is all over, Guido--all over, now! She has played us both false. MayGod forgive you as I do!"

He smiled--a soft look brightened his fast-glazing eyes--the old boyishlook that had won my love in former days. 

"All over!" he repeated in a sort of plaintive babble. "All over now!God--Fabio--forgive!--" A terrible convulsion wrenched and contortedhis limbs and features, his throat rattled, and stretching himself outwith a long shivering sigh--he died! The first beams of the rising sun, piercing through the dark, moss-covered branches of the pine-trees, fell on his clustering hair, and lent a mocking brilliancy to hiswide-open sightless eyes: there was a smile on the closed lips! Aburning, suffocating sensation rose in my throat, as of rebellioustears trying to force a passage. I still held the hand of my friend andenemy--it had grown cold in my clasp. Upon it sparkled my familydiamond--the ring SHE had given him. I drew the jewel off: then Ikissed that poor passive hand as I laid it gently down--kissed ittenderly, reverently. Hearing footsteps approaching, I rose from mykneeling posture and stood erect with folded arms, looking tearlesslydown on the stiffening clay before me. The rest of the party came up;no one spoke for a minute, all surveyed the dead body in silence. Atlast Captain Freccia said, softly in half-inquiring accents:

"He is gone, I suppose?"

I bowed. I could not trust myself to speak. 

"He made you his apology?" asked the marquis. 

I bowed again. There was another pause of heavy silence. The rigidsmiling face of the corpse seemed to mock all speech. The doctorstooped and skillfully closed those glazed appealing eyes--and then itseemed to me as though Guido merely slept and that a touch would wakenhim. The Marquis D'Avencourt took me by the arm and whispered, "Getback to the city, amico, and take some wine--you look positively ill!Your evident regret does you credit, considering the circumstances--butwhat would you?--it was a fair fight. Consider the provocation you had!I should advise you to leave Naples for a couple of weeks--by that timethe affair will be forgotten. I know how these things aremanaged--leave it all to me. "

I thanked him and shook his hand cordially and turned to depart. Vincenzo was in waiting with the carriage. Once I looked back, as withslow steps I left the field; a golden radiance illumined the sky justabove the stark figure stretched so straightly on the sward; whilealmost from the very side of that pulseless heart a little bird rosefrom its nest among the grasses and soared into the heavens, singingrapturously as it flew into the warmth and glory of the living, breathing day. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Entering the fiacre, I drove in it a very little way toward the city. Ibade the driver stop at the corner of the winding road that led to theVilla Romani, and there I alighted. I ordered Vincenzo to go on to thehotel and send from thence my own carriage and horses up to the villagates, where I would wait for it. I also bade him pack my portmanteauin readiness for my departure that evening, as I proposed going toAvellino, among the mountains, for a few days. He heard my commands insilence and evident embarrassment. Finally he said:

"Do I also travel with the eccellenza?"

"Why, no!" I answered with a forced sad smile. "Do you not see, amico, that I am heavy-hearted, and melancholy men are best left tothemselves. Besides--remember the carnival--I told you you were free toindulge in its merriment, and shall I not deprive you of your pleasure?No, Vincenzo; stay and enjoy yourself, and take no concern for me. "

Vincenzo saluted me with his usual respectful bow, but his featureswore an expression of obstinacy. 

"The eccellenza must pardon me, " he said, "but I have just looked atdeath, and my taste is spoiled for carnival. Again--the eccellenza issad--it is necessary that I should accompany him to Avellino. "

I saw that his mind was made up, and I was in no humor for argument. 

"As you will, " I answered, wearily, "only believe me, you make afoolish decision. But do what you like; only arrange all so that weleave to-night. And now get back quickly--give no explanation at thehotel of what has occurred, and lose no time in sending on my carriage. I will wait alone at the Villa Romani till it comes. "

The vehicle rumbled off, bearing Vincenzo seated on the box beside thedriver. I watched it disappear, and then turned into the road that ledme to my own dishonored home. The place looked silent and deserted--nota soul was stirring. The silken blinds of the reception-rooms were allclosely drawn, showing that the mistress of the house was absent; itwas as if some one lay dead within. A vague wonderment arose in mymind. WHO was dead? Surely it must be I--I the master of the household, who lay stiff and cold in one of those curtained rooms! This terriblewhite-haired man who roamed feverishly up and down outside the wallswas not me--it was some angry demon risen from the grave to wreakpunishment on the guilty. _I_ was dead--_I_ could never have killed theman who had once been my friend. And he also was dead--the samemurderess had slain us both--and SHE lived! Ha! that was wrong--shemust now die--but in such torture that her very soul shall shrink andshrivel under it into a devil's flame for the furnace of hell!

With my brain full of hot whirling thoughts like these I looked throughthe carved heraldic work of the villa gates. Here had Guido stood, poorwretch, last night, shaking these twisted wreaths of iron in impotentfury. There on the mosaic pavement he had flung the trembling oldservant who had told him of the absence of his traitress. On this veryspot he had launched his curse, which, though he knew it not, was thecurse of a dying man. I was glad he had uttered it--such maledictionscling! There was nothing but compassion for him in my heart now that hewas dead. He had been duped and wronged even as I; and I felt that hisspirit, released from its grosser clay, would work with mine and aid inher punishment. 

I paced round the silent house till I came to the private wicket thatled into the avenue; I opened it and entered the familiar path. I hadnot been there since the fatal night on which I had learned my ownbetrayal. How intensely still were those solemn pines--how gaunt anddark and grim! Not a branch quivered--not a leaf stirred. A cold dewthat was scarcely a frost glittered on the moss at my feet, No bird'svoice broke the impressive hush of the wood-lands morning dream. Nobright-hued flower unbuttoned its fairy cloak to the breeze; yet therewas a subtle perfume everywhere--the fragrance of unseen violets whosepurple eyes were still closed in slumber. 

I gazed on the scene as a man may behold in a vision the spot where heonce was happy. I walked a few paces, then paused with a strangebeating at my heart. A shadow fell across my path--it flitted beforeme, it stopped--it lay still. I saw it resolve itself into the figureof a man stretched out in rigid silence, with the light beating full onits smiling, dead face, and also on a deep wound just above his heart, from which the blood oozed redly, staining the grass on which he lay. Mastering the sick horror which seized me at this sight, I sprungforward--the shadow vanished instantly--it was a mere optical delusion, the result of my overwrought and excited condition. I shudderedinvoluntarily at the image my own heated fancy had conjured up; shouldI always see Guido thus, I thought, even in my dreams?

Suddenly a ringing, swaying rush of sound burst joyously on thesilence--the slumbering trees awoke, their leaves moved, their darkbranches quivered, and the grasses lifted up their green lilliputiansword-blades. Bells!--and SUCH bells!--tongues of melody that stormedthe air with sweetest eloquence--round, rainbow bubbles of music thatburst upon the wind, and dispersed in delicate broken echoes. 

"Peace on earth, good will to men!Peace--on--earth--good--will--to--men!" they seemed to say over andover again, till my ears ached with the repetition. Peace! What had Ito do with peace or good-will? The Christ Mass could teach me nothing. I was as one apart from human life-an alien from its customs andaffections--for me no love, no brotherhood remained. The swinging songof the chimes jarred my nerves. Why, I thought, should the wild erringworld, with all its wicked men and women, presume to rejoice at thebirth of the Saviour?--they, who were not worthy to be saved! I turnedswiftly away; I strode fiercely past the kingly pines that, nowthoroughly awakened, seemed to note me with a stern disdain as thoughthey said among themselves: "What manner of small creature is this thattorments himself with passions unknown to US in our calm converse withthe stars?"

I was glad when I stood again on the high-road, and infinitely relievedwhen I heard the rapid trot of horses rumbling of wheels, and saw myclosed brougham, drawn by its prancing black Arabians, approaching. Iwalked to meet it; the coachman seeing me drew up instantly, I bade himtake me to the Convento dell'Annunziata, and entering the carriage, Iwas driven rapidly away. 

The convent was situated, I knew, somewhere between Naples andSorrento. I guessed it to be near Castellamare, but it was fully threemiles beyond that, and was a somewhat long drive of more than twohours. It lay a good distance out of the direct route, and was onlyattained by a by-road, which from its rough and broken condition wasevidently not much frequented. The building stood apart from all otherhabitations in a large open piece of ground, fenced in by a high stonewall spiked at the top. Roses climbed thickly among the spikes, andalmost hid their sharp points from view, and from a perfect nest ofgreen foliage, the slender spire of the convent chapel rose into thesky like a white finger pointing to heaven. My coachman drew up beforethe heavily barred gates. I alighted, and bade him take the carriage tothe principal hostelry at Castellamare, and wait for me there. As soonas he had driven off, I rang the convent bell. A little wicket fixed inthe gate opened immediately, and the wrinkled visage of a very old andugly nun looked out. She demanded in low tones what I sought. I handedher my card, and stated my desire to see the Countess Romani, ifagreeable to the superioress. While I spoke she looked at mecuriously--my spectacles, I suppose, excited her wonder--for I hadreplaced these disguising glasses immediately on leaving the scene ofthe duel--I needed them yet a little while longer. After peering at mea minute or two with her bleared and aged eyes, she shut the wicket inmy face with a smart click and disappeared. While I awaited her returnI heard the sound of children's laughter and light footsteps runningtrippingly on the stone passage within. 

"Fi donc, Rosie!" said the girl's voice in French; "la bonne MereMarguerite sera tres tres fachee avec toi. "

"Tais-toi, petite sainte!" cried another voice more piercing andsilvery in tone. "Je veux voir qui est la! C'est un homme je saisbien--parceque la vieille Mere Laura a rougi!" and both young voicesbroke into a chorus of renewed laughter. 

Then came the shuffling noise of the old nun's footsteps returning; sheevidently caught the two truants, whoever they were, for I heard herexpostulating, scolding and apostrophizing the saints all in a breath, as she bade them go inside the house and ask the good little Jesus toforgive their naughtiness. A silence ensued, then the bolts and bars ofthe huge gate were undone slowly--it opened, and I was admitted. Iraised my hat as I entered, and walked bareheaded through a long, coldcorridor, guided by the venerable nun, who looked at me no more, buttold her beads as she walked, and never spoke till she had led me intothe building, through a lofty hall glorious with sacred paintings andstatues, and from thence into a large, elegantly furnished room, whosewindows commanded a fine view of the grounds. Here she motioned me totake a seat, and without lifting her eyelids, said:

"Mother Marguerite will wait upon you instantly, signor. "

I bowed, and she glided from the room so noiselessly that I did noteven hear the door close behind her. Left alone in what I rightlyconcluded was the reception-room for visitors, I looked about me withsome faint interest and curiosity. I had never before seen the interiorof what is known as an educational convent. There were many photographson the walls and mantelpiece--portraits of girls, some plain of faceand form, others beautiful--no doubt they had all been sent to the nunsas souvenirs of former pupils. Rising from my chair I examined a few ofthem carelessly, and was about to inspect a fine copy of Murillo'sVirgin, when my attention was caught by an upright velvet framesurmounted with my own crest and coronet. In it was the portrait of mywife, taken in her bridal dress, as she looked when she married me. Itook it to the light and stared at the features dubiously. This wasshe--this slim, fairy-like creature clad in gossamer white, with themarriage veil thrown back from her clustering hair and child-likeface--this was the THING for which two men's lives had been sacrificed!With a movement of disgust I replaced the frame in its former position;I had scarcely done so when the door opened quietly and a tall woman, clad in trailing robes of pale blue with a nun's band and veil of finewhite cashmere, stood before me. I saluted her with a deep reverence;she responded by the slightest possible bend of her head. Her outwardmanner was so very still and composed that when she spoke her colorlesslips scarcely moved, her very breathing never stirred the silvercrucifix that lay like a glittering sign-manual on her quiet breast. Her voice, though low, was singularly clear and penetrating. 

"I address the Count Oliva?" she inquired. 

I bowed in the affirmative. She looked at me keenly: she had dark, brilliant eyes, in which the smoldering fires of many a conqueredpassion still gleamed. 

"You would see the Countess Romani, who is in retreat here?"

"If not inconvenient or out of rule--" I began. 

The shadow of a smile flitted across the nun's pale, intellectual face;it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. 

"Not at all, " she replied, in the same even monotone. "The CountessNina is, by her own desire, following a strict regime, but to-day beinga universal feast-day all rules are somewhat relaxed. The reverendmother desires me to inform you that it is now the hour for mass--shehas herself already entered the chapel. If you will share in ourdevotions, the countess shall afterward be informed of your presencehere. "

I could do no less than accede to this proposition, though in truth itwas unwelcome to me. I was in no humor for either prayers or praise; Ithought moodily how startled even this impassive nun might have been, could she have known what manner of man it was that she thus invited tokneel in the sanctuary. However, I said no word of objection, and shebade me follow her. As we left the room I asked:

"Is the countess well?"

"She seems so, " returned Mere Marguerite; "she follows her religiousduties with exactitude, and makes no complaint of fatigue. "

We were now crossing the hall. I ventured on another inquiry. 

"She was a favorite pupil of yours, I believe?"

The nun turned her passionless face toward me with an air of mildsurprise and reproof. 

"I have no favorites, " she answered, coldly. "All the children educatedhere share my attention and regard equally. "

I murmured an apology, and added with a forced smile:

"You must pardon my apparent inquisitiveness, but as the future husbandof the lady who was brought up under your care, I am naturallyinterested in all that concerns her. "

Again the searching eyes of the religieuse surveyed me; she sighedslightly. 

"I am aware of the connection between you, " she said, in rather apained tone. "Nina Romani belongs to the world, and follows the ways ofthe world. Of course, marriage is the natural fulfillment of most younggirls' destinies, there are comparatively few who are called out of theranks to serve Christ. Therefore, when Nina married the estimable CountRomani, of whom report spoke ever favorably, we rejoiced greatly, feeling that her future was safe in the hands of a gentle and wiseprotector. May his soul rest in peace! But a second marriage for her iswhat I did not expect, and what I cannot in my conscience approve. Yousee I speak frankly. "

"I am honored that you do so, madame!" I said, earnestly, feeling acertain respect for this sternly composed yet patient-featured woman;"yet, though in general you may find many reasonable objections to it, a second marriage is I think, in the Countess Romani's case almostnecessary. She is utterly without a protector--she is very young andhow beautiful!"

The nun's eyes grew solemn and almost mournful. 

"Such beauty is a curse, " she answered, with emphasis; "a fatal--afearful curse! As a child it made her wayward. As a woman it keeps herwayward still. Enough of this, signor!" and she bowed her head; "excusemy plain speaking. Rest assured that I wish you both happiness. "

We had by this time reached the door of the chapel, through which thesound of the pealing organ poured forth in triumphal surges of melody. Mere Marguerite dipped her fingers in the holy water, and signingherself with the cross, pointed out a bench at the back of the churchas one that strangers were allowed to occupy. I seated myself, andlooked with a certain soothed admiration at the picturesque scenebefore me. There was the sparkle of twinkling lights--the bloom andfragrance of flowers. There were silent rows of nuns blue-robed andwhite-veiled, kneeling and absorbed in prayer. Behind these a littlecluster of youthful figures in black, whose drooped heads were entirelyhidden in veils of flowing white muslin. Behind these again, onewoman's slight form arrayed in heavy mourning garments; her veil wasblack, yet not so thick but that I could perceive the sheeny glitter ofgolden hair--that was my wife, I knew. Pious angel! how devout shelooked! I smiled in dreary scorn as I watched her; I cursed her afreshin the name of the man I had killed. And above all, surrounded with theluster of golden rays and incrusted jewels, the uncovered Host shoneserenely like the gleam of the morning star. The stately service wenton--the organ music swept through and through the church as though itwere a strong wind striving to set itself free--but amid it all I satas one in a dark dream, scarcely seeing, scarcely hearing--inflexibleand cold as marble. The rich plaintive voice of one of the nuns in thechoir, singing the Agnus Dei, moved me to a chill sort of wonder. "Quitollis peccata mundi--Who takest away the sin of the world. " No, no!there are some sins that cannot be taken away--the sins of faithlesswomen, the "LITTLE" sins as they are called nowadays--for we have grownvery lenient in some things, and very severe in others. We willimprison the miserable wretch who steals five francs from our pockets, but the cunning feminine thief who robs us of our prestige, our nameand honorable standing among our fellow-men, escapes almost scot-free;she cannot be put in prison, or sentenced to hard labor--not she! Apity it is that Christ did not leave us some injunction as to what wasto be done with such women--not the penitent Magdalenes, but thecreatures whose mouths are full of lies even when they pretend topray--they who would be capable of trying to tempt the priest who comesto receive their last confessions--they who would even act out a shamrepentance on their deathbeds in order to look well. What can be donewith devils such as these? Much has been said latterly of the wrongsperpetrated on women by men; will no one take up the other side of thequestion? We, the stronger sex, are weak in this--we are toochivalrous. When a woman flings herself on our mercy we spare her andare silent. Tortures will not wring her secrets out of us; somethingholds us back from betraying her. I know not what it can be--perhaps itis the memory of our mothers. Whatever it is, it is certain that many aman allows himself to be disgraced rather than he will disgrace awoman. But a time is at hand when this foolish chivalry of ours willdie out. On changera tout cela! When once our heavy masculine brainsshall have grasped the novel idea that woman has by her own wish andchoice resigned all claim on our respect or forbearance, we shall haveour revenge. We are slow to change the traditions of our forefathers, but no doubt we shall soon manage to quench the last spark of knightlyreverence left in us for the female sex, as this is evidently the pointthe women desire to bring us to. We shall meet them on that lowplatform of the "equality" they seek for, and we shall treat them withthe unhesitating and regardless familiarity they so earnestly invite!

Absorbed in thought, I knew not when the service ended. A hand touchedme, and looking up I saw Mere Marguerite, who whispered:

"Follow me, if you please. "

I rose and obeyed her mechanically. Outside the chapel door she said:

"Pray excuse me for hurrying you, but strangers are not permitted tosee the nuns and boarders passing out. "

I bowed, and walked on beside her. Feeling forced to say something, Iasked:

"Have you many boarders at this holiday season?"

"Only fourteen, " she replied, "and they are children whose parents livefar away. Poor little ones!" and the set lines of the nun's stern facesoftened into tenderness as she spoke. "We do our best to make themhappy, but naturally they feel lonely. We have generally fifty or sixtyyoung girls here, besides the day scholars. "

"A great responsibility, " I remarked. 

"Very great indeed!" and she sighed; "almost terrible. So much of awoman's after life depends on the early training she receives. We doall we can, and yet in some cases our utmost efforts are in vain; evilcreeps in, we know not how--some unsuspected fault spoils a characterthat we judged to be admirable, and we are often disappointed in ourmost promising pupils. Alas! there is nothing entirely without blemishin this world. "

Thus talking, she showed me into a small, comfortable-looking room, lined with books and softly carpeted. 

"This is one of our libraries, " she explained. "The countess willreceive you here, as other visitors might disturb you in thedrawing-room. Pardon me, " and her steady gaze had something ofcompassion in it, "but you do not look well. Can I send you some wine?"

I declined this offer with many expressions of gratitude, and assuredher I was perfectly well. She hesitated, and at last said, anxiously:

"I trust you were not offended at my remark concerning Nina Romani'smarriage with you? I fear I was too hasty?"

"Not so, madame, " I answered, with all the earnestness I felt. "Nothingis more pleasant to me than a frank opinion frankly spoken. I have beenso accustomed to deception--" Here I broke off and added hastily, "Praydo not think me capable of judging you wrongly. "

She seemed relieved, and smiling that shadowy, flitting smile of hers, she said:

"No doubt you are impatient, signor; Nina shall come to you directly, "and with a slight salutation she left me. 

Surely she was a good woman, I thought, and vaguely wondered about herpast history--that past which she had buried forever under a mountainof prayers. What had she been like when young--before she had shutherself within the convent walls--before she had set the crucifix likea seal on her heart? Had she ever trapped a man's soul and strangled itwith lies? I fancied not--her look was too pure and candid; yet whocould tell? Were not Nina's eyes trained to appear as though they heldthe very soul of truth? A few minutes passed. I heard the fresh voicesof children singing in the next room:

 "D'ou vient le petit Gesu? Ce joli bouton de rose Qui fleurit, enfant cheri Sur le coeur de notre mere Marie. "

Then came a soft rustle of silken garments, the door opened, and mywife entered. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

She approached with her usual panther-like grace and supple movement, her red lips parted in a charming smile. 

"So good of you to come!" she began, holding out her two hands asthough she invited an embrace; "and on Christmas morning too!" Shepaused, and seeing that I did not move or speak, she regarded me withsome alarm. "What is the matter?" she asked, in fainter tones; "hasanything happened?"

I looked at her. I saw that she was full of sudden fear, I made noattempt to soothe her, I merely placed a chair. 

"Sit down, " I said, gravely. "I am the bearer of bad news. "

She sunk into the chair as though unnerved, and gazed at me withterrified eyes. She trembled. Watching her keenly, I observed all theseoutward signs of trepidation with deep satisfaction. I saw plainly whatwas passing in her mind. A great dread had seized her--the dread that Ihad found out her treachery. So indeed I had, but the time had not yetcome for her to know it. Meanwhile she suffered--suffered acutely withthat gnawing terror and suspense eating into her soul. I said nothing, I waited for her to speak. After a pause, during which her cheeks hadlost their delicate bloom, she said, forcing a smile as she spoke--

"Bad news? You surprise me! What can it be? Some unpleasantness withGuido? Have you seen him?"

"I have seen him, " I answered in the same formal and serious tone; "Ihave just left him. He sends you THIS, " and I held out my diamond ringthat I had drawn off the dead man's finger. 

If she had been pale before, she grew paler now. All the brilliancy ofher complexion faded for the moment into an awful haggardness. She tookthe ring with fingers that shook visibly and were icy cold. There wasno attempt at smiling now. She drew a sharp quick breath; she thought Iknew all. I was again silent. She looked at the diamond signet with abewildered air. 

"I do not understand, " she murmured, petulantly. "I gave him this as aremembrance of his friend, my husband, why does he return it?"

Self-tortured criminal! I studied her with a dark amusement, butanswered nothing. Suddenly she looked up at me and her eyes filled withtears. 

"Why are you so cold and strange, Cesare?" she pleaded, in a sort ofplaintive whimper. "Do not stand there like a gloomy sentinel; kiss meand tell me at once what has happened. "

Kiss her! So soon after kissing the dead hand of her lover! No, I couldnot and would not. I remained standing where I was, inflexibly silent. She glanced at me again, very timidly, and whimpered afresh. 

"Ah, you do not love me!" she murmured. "You could not be so stern andsilent if you loved me! If there is indeed any bad news, you ought tobreak it to me gently and kindly. I thought you would always makeeverything easy for me--"

"Such has been my endeavor, madame, " I said interrupting her complaint. "From your own statement, I judged that your adopted brother GuidoFerrari had rendered himself obnoxious to you. I promised that I wouldsilence him--you remember! I have kept my word. He ISsilenced--forever!"

She started. 

"Silenced? How? You mean--"

I moved away from my place behind her chair, and stood so that I facedher as I spoke. 

"I mean that he is dead. "

She uttered a slight cry, not of sorrow but of wonderment. 

"DEAD!" she exclaimed. "Not possible! Dead! You have killed him?"

I bent my head gravely. "I killed him--yes! But in open combat, openlywitnessed. Last night he insulted me grossly; we fought this morning. We forgave each other before he died. "

She listened attentively. A little color came back into her cheeks. 

"In what way did he insult you?" she asked, in a low voice. 

I told her all, briefly. She still looked anxious. 

"Did he mention my name?" she said. 

I glanced at her troubled features in profound contempt. She feared thedying man might have made some confession to me! I answered:

"No; not after our quarrel. But I hear he went to your house to killyou! Not finding you there, he only cursed you. "

She heaved a sigh of relief. She was safe now, she thought!

Her red lips widened into a cruel smile. 

"What bad taste!" she said, coldly. "Why he should curse me I cannotimagine! I have always been kind to him--TOO kind. "

Too kind indeed! kind enough to be glad when the object of all herkindness was dead! For she WAS glad! I could see that in the murderousglitter of her eyes. 

"You are not sorry?" I inquired, with an air of pretended surprise. 

"Sorry? Not at all! Why should I be? He was a very agreeable friendwhile my husband was alive to keep him in order, but after my poorFabio's death, his treatment of me was quite unbearable. "

Take care, beautiful hypocrite! take care! Take care lest your "poorFabio's" fingers should suddenly nip your slim throat with a convulsivetwitch that means death! Heaven only knows how I managed to keep myhands off her at that moment! Why, any groveling beast of the field hadmore feeling than this wretch whom I had made my wife! Even for Guido'ssake--such are the strange inconsistencies of the human heart--I couldhave slain her then. But I restrained my fury; I steadied my voice andsaid calmly: "Then I was mistaken? I thought you would be deeplygrieved, that my news would shock and annoy you greatly, hence mygravity and apparent coldness. But it seems I have done well?"

She sprung up from her chair like a pleased child and flung her armsround my neck. 

"You are brave, you are brave!" she exclaimed, in a sort of exultation. "You could not have done otherwise! He insulted you and you killed him. That was right! I love you all the more for being such a man of honor!"

I looked down upon her in loathing and disgust. Honor! Its very namewas libeled coming from HER lips. She did not notice the expression ofmy face--she was absorbed, excellent actress as she was, in the partshe had chosen to play. 

"And so you were dull and sad because you feared to grieve me! PoorCesare!" she said, in child-like caressing accents, such as she couldassume when she chose. "But now that you see I am not unhappy, you willbe cheerful again? Yes? Think how much I love you, and how happy wewill be! And see, you have given me such lovely jewels, so many of themtoo, that I scarcely dare offer you such a trifle as this; but as itreally belonged to Fabio, and to Fabio's father, whom you knew, I thinkyou ought to have it. Will you take it and wear it to please me?" andshe slipped on my finger the diamond signet--my own ring!

I could have laughed aloud! but I bent my head gravely as I accepted it. 

"Only as a proof of your affection, cara mia, " I said, "though it has aterrible association for me. I took it from Ferrari's hand when--"

"Oh, yes, I know!" she interrupted me with a little shiver; "it musthave been trying for you to have seen him dead. I think dead peoplelook so horrid--the sight upsets the nerves! I remember when I was atschool here, they WOULD take me to see a nun who died; it sickened meand made me ill for days. I can quite understand your feelings. But youmust try and forget the matter. Duels are very common occurrences, after all!"

"Very common, " I answered, mechanically, still regarding the fairupturned face, the lustrous eyes, the rippling hair; "but they do notoften end so fatally. The result of this one compels me to leave Naplesfor some days. I go to Avellino to-night. "

"To Avellino?" she exclaimed, with interest. "Oh, I know it very well. I went there once with Fabio when I was first married. "

"And were you happy there?" I inquired, coldly. 

I remembered the time she spoke of--a time of such unreasoning, foolishjoy!

"Happy? Oh, yes; everything was so new to me then. It was delightful tobe my own mistress, and I was so glad to be out of the convent. "

"I thought you liked the nuns?" I said. 

"Some of them--yes. The reverend mother is a dear old thing. But MereMarguerite, the Vicaire as she is called--the one that receivedyou--oh, I do detest her!"

"Indeed! and why?"

The red lips curled mutinously. 

"Because she is so sly and silent. Some of the children here adore her;but they MUST have something to love, you know, " and she laughedmerrily. 

"Must they?"

I asked the question automatically, merely for the sake of sayingsomething. 

"Of course they must, " she answered, gayly. "You foolish Cesare! Thegirls often play at being one another's lovers, only they are carefulnot to let the nuns know their game. It is very amusing. Since I havebeen here they have what is called a 'CRAZE' for me. They give meflowers, run after me in the garden, and sometimes kiss my dress, andcall me by all manner of loving names. I let them do it because itvexes Madame la Vicaire; but of course it is very foolish. "

I was silent. I thought what a curse it was--this necessity of loving. Even the poison of it must find its way into the hearts ofchildren--young things shut within the walls of a secluded convent, andguarded by the conscientious care of holy women. 

"And the nuns?" I said, uttering half my thoughts aloud. "How do theymanage without love or romance?"

A wicked little smile, brilliant and disdainful, glittered in her eyes. 

"DO they always manage without love or romance?" she asked, halfindolently. "What of Abelard and Heloise, or Fra Lippi?"

Roused by something in her tone, I caught her round the waist, and heldher firmly while I said, with some sternness:

"And you--is it possible that YOU have sympathy with, or find amusementin, the contemplation of illicit and dishonorable passion--tell me?"

She recollected herself in time; her white eyelids drooped demurely. 

"Not I!" she answered, with a grave and virtuous air; "how can youthink so? There is nothing to my mind so horrible as deceit; no goodever comes of it. "

I loosened her from my embrace. 

"You are right, " I said, calmly; "I am glad your instincts are socorrect! I have always hated lies. "

"So have I!" she declared, earnestly, with a frank and open look; "Ihave often wondered why people tell them. They are so sure to be foundout!"

I bit my lips hard to shut in the burning accusations that my tonguelonged to utter. Why should I damn the actress or the play before thecurtain was ready to fall on both? I changed the subject of converse. 

"How long do you propose remaining here in retreat?" I asked. "There isnothing now to prevent your returning to Naples. "

She pondered for some minutes before replying, then she said:

"I told the superioress I came here for a week. I had better stay tillthat time is expired. Not longer, because as Guido is really dead, mypresence is actually necessary in the city. "

"Indeed! May I ask why?"

She laughed a little consciously. 

"Simply to prove his last will and testament, " she replied. "Before heleft for Rome, he gave it into my keeping. "

A light flashed on my mind. 

"And its contents?" I inquired. 

"Its contents make ME the owner of everything he died possessed of!"she said, with an air of quiet yet malicious triumph. 

Unhappy Guido! What trust he had reposed in this vile, self-interested, heartless woman! He had loved her, even as I had loved her--she who wasunworthy of any love! I controlled my rising emotion, and merely saidwith gravity:

"I congratulate you! May I be permitted to see this document?"

"Certainly; I can show it to you now. I have it here, " and she drew aRussia-leather letter-case from her pocket, and opening it, handed me asealed envelope. "Break the seal!" she added, with childish eagerness. "He closed it up like that after I had read it. "

With reluctant hand, and a pained piteousness at my heart, I opened thepacket. It was as she had said, a will drawn up in perfectly legalform, signed and witnessed, leaving everything UNCONDITIONALLY to"Nina, Countess Romani, of the Villa Romani, Naples. " I read it throughand returned it to her. 

"He must have loved you!" I said. 

She laughed. 

"Of course, " she said, airily. "But many people love me--that isnothing new; I am accustomed to be loved. But you see, " she went on, reverting to the will again, "it specifies, 'EVERYTHING HE DIESPOSSESSED OF;' that means all the money left to him by his uncle inRome, does it not?"

I bowed. I could not trust myself to speak. 

"I thought so, " she murmured, gleefully, more to herself than to me;"and I have a right to all his papers and letters. " There she pausedabruptly and checked herself. 

I understood her. She wanted to get back her own letters to the deadman, lest her intimacy with him should leak out in some chance way forwhich she was unprepared. Cunning devil! I was almost glad she showedme to what a depth of vulgar vice she had fallen. There was no questionof pity or forbearance in HER case. If all the tortures invented bysavages or stern inquisitors could be heaped upon her at once, suchpunishment would be light in comparison with her crimes--crimes forwhich, mark you, the law gives you no remedy but divorce. Tired of thewretched comedy, I looked at my watch. 

"It is time for me to take my leave of you, " I said, in the stiff, courtly manner I affected. "Moments fly fast in your enchantingcompany! But I have still to walk to Castellamare, there to rejoin mycarriage, and I have many things to attend to before my departure thisevening. On my return from Avellino shall I be welcome?"

"You know it, " she returned, nestling her head against my shoulder, while for mere form's sake I was forced to hold her in a partialembrace. "I only wish you were not going at all. Dearest, do not staylong away--I shall be so unhappy till you come back!"

"Absence strengthens love, they say, " I observed, with a forced smile. "May it do so in our case. Farewell, cara mia! Pray for me; I supposeyou DO pray a great deal here?"

"Oh, yes, " she replied, naively; "there is nothing else to do. "

I held her hands closely in my grasp. The engagement ring on herfinger, and the diamond signet on my own, flashed in the light like thecrossing of swords. 

"Pray then, " I said, "storm the gates of heaven with sweet-voicedpleadings for the repose of poor Ferrari's soul! Remember he loved you, though YOU never loved him. For YOUR sake he quarreled with me, hisbest friend--for YOUR sake he died! Pray for him--who knows, " and Ispoke in thrilling tones of earnestness--"who knows but that histoo-hastily departed spirit may not be near us now--hearing our voices, watching our looks?"

She shivered slightly, and her hands in mine grew cold. 

"Yes, yes, " I continued, more calmly; "you must not forget to pray forhim--he was young and not prepared to die. "

My words had some of the desired effect upon her--for once her readyspeech failed--she seemed as though she sought for some reply and foundnone. I still held her hands. 

"Promise me!" I continued; "and at the same time pray for your deadhusband! He and poor Ferrari were close friends, you know; it will bepious and kind of you to join their names in one petition addressed toHim 'from whom no secrets are hid, ' and who reads with unerring eyesthe purity of your intentions. Will you do it?"

She smiled, a forced, faint smile. 

"I certainly will, " she replied, in a low voice; "I promise you. "

I released her hands--I was satisfied. If she dared to pray thus Ifelt--I KNEW that she would draw down upon her soul the redoubled wrathof Heaven; for I looked beyond the grave! The mere death of her bodywould be but a slight satisfaction to me; it was the utter destructionof her wicked soul that I sought. She should never repent, I swore; sheshould never have the chance of casting off her vileness as a serpentcasts its skin, and, reclothing herself in innocence, presume to askadmittance into that Eternal Gloryland whither my little child hadgone--never, never! No church should save her, no priest should absolveher--not while _I_ lived!

She watched me as I fastened my coat and began to draw on my gloves. 

"Are you going now?" she asked, somewhat timidly. 

"Yes, I am going now, cara mia, " I said. "Why! what makes you look sopale?"

For she had suddenly turned very white. 

"Let me see your hand again, " she demanded, with feverish eagerness, "the hand on which I placed the ring!"

Smilingly and with readiness I took off the glove I had just put on. 

"What odd fancy possesses you now, little one?" I asked, with an air ofplayfulness. 

She made no answer, but took my hand and examined it closely andcuriously. Then she looked up, her lips twitched nervously, and shelaughed a little hard mirthless laugh. 

"Your hand, " she murmured, incoherently, "with--that--signet--on it--isexactly like--like Fabio's!"

And before I had time to say a word she went off into a violent fit ofhysterics--sobs, little cries, and laughter all intermingled in thatwild and reasonless distraction that generally unnerves the strongestman who is not accustomed to it. I rang the bell to summon assistance;a lay-sister answered it, and seeing Nina's condition, rushed for aglass of water and summoned Madame la Vicaire. This latter, enteringwith her quiet step and inflexible demeanor, took in the situation at aglance, dismissed the lay-sister, and possessing herself of the tumblerof water, sprinkled the forehead of the interesting patient, and forcedsome drops between her clinched teeth. Then turning to me she inquired, with some stateliness of manner, what had caused the attack?

"I really cannot tell you, madame, " I said, with an air of affectedconcern and vexation. "I certainly told the countess of the unexpecteddeath of a friend, but she bore the news with exemplary resignation. The circumstance that appears to have so greatly distressed her is thatshe finds, or says she finds, a resemblance between my hand and thehand of her deceased husband. This seems to me absurd, but there is noaccounting for ladies' caprices. "

And I shrugged my shoulders as though I were annoyed and impatient. 

Over the pale, serious face of the nun there flitted a smile in whichthere was certainly the ghost of sarcasm. 

"All sensitiveness and tenderness of heart, you see!" she said, in herchill, passionless tones, which, icy as they were, somehow conveyed tomy ear another meaning than that implied by the words she uttered. "Wecannot perhaps understand the extreme delicacy of her feelings, and wefail to do justice to them. "

Here Nina opened her eyes, and looked at us with piteous plaintiveness, while her bosom heaved with those long, deep sighs which are thefinishing chords of the Sonata Hysteria. 

"You are better, I trust?" continued the nun, without any sympathy inher monotonous accents, and addressing her with some reserve. "You havegreatly alarmed the Count Oliva. "

"I am sorry--" began Nina, feebly. 

I hastened to her side. 

"Pray do not speak of it!" I urged, forcing something like a lover'sardor into my voice. "I regret beyond measure that it is my misfortuneto have hands like those of your late husband! I assure you I am quitemiserable about it. Can you forgive me?"

She was recovering quickly, and she was evidently conscious that shehad behaved somewhat foolishly. She smiled a weak pale smile; but shelooked very scared, worn and ill. She rose from her chair slowly andlanguidly. 

"I think I will go to my room, " she said, not regarding MereMarguerite, who had withdrawn to a little distance, and who stoodrigidly erect, immovably featured, with her silver crucifix glitteringcoldly on her still breast. 

"Good-bye, Cesare! Please forget my stupidity, and write to me fromAvellino. "

I took her outstretched hand, and bowing over it, touched it gentlywith my lips. She turned toward the door, when suddenly a mischievousidea seemed to enter her mind. She looked at Madame la Vicaire and thencame back to me. 

"Addio, amor mio!" she said, with a sort of rapturous emphasis, andthrowing her arms round my neck she kissed me almost passionately. 

Then she glanced maliciously at the nun, who had lowered her eyes tillthey appeared fast shut, and breaking into a low peal of indolentlyamused laughter, waved her hand to me, and left the room. 

I was somewhat confused. The suddenness and warmth of her caress hadbeen, I knew, a mere monkeyish trick, designed to vex the religiousscruples of Mere Marguerite. I knew not what to say to the statelywoman who remained confronting me with downcast eyes and lips thatmoved dumbly as though in prayer. As the door closed after my wife'sretreating figure, the nun looked up; there was a slight flush on herpallid cheeks, and to my astonishment, tears glittered on her darklashes. 

"Madame, " I began, earnestly, "I assure you--"

"Say nothing, signor, " she interrupted me with a slight deprecatorygesture; "it is quite unnecessary. To mock a religieuse is a commonamusement with young girls and women of the world. I am accustomed toit, though I feel its cruelty more than I ought to do. Ladies like theCountess Romani think that we--we, the sepulchers ofwomanhood--sepulchers that we have emptied and cleansed to the best ofour ability, so that they may more fittingly hold the body of thecrucified Christ; these grandes dames, I say, fancy that WE areignorant of all they know--that we cannot understand love, tendernessor passion. They never reflect--how should they?--that we also have hadour histories--histories, perhaps, that would make angels weep forpity! I, even I--" and she struck her breast fiercely, then suddenlyrecollecting herself, she continued coldly: "The rule of our convent, signer, permits no visitor to remain longer than one hour--that hourhas expired. I will summon a sister to show you the way out. "

"Wait one instant, madame, " I said, feeling that to enact my partthoroughly I ought to attempt to make some defense of Nina's conduct;"permit me to say a word! My fiancee is very young and thoughtless. Ireally cannot think that her very innocent parting caress to me hadanything in it that was meant to purposely annoy you. "

The nun glanced at me--her eyes flashed disdainfully. 

"You think it was all affection for you, no doubt, signor? verynatural supposition, and--I should be sorry to undeceive you. "

She paused a moment and then resumed:

"You seem an earnest man--may be you are destined to be the means ofsaving Nina; I could say much--yet it is wise to be silent. If you loveher do not flatter her; her overweening vanity is her ruin. A firm, wise, ruling master-hand may perhaps--who knows?" She hesitated andsighed, then added, gently, "Farewell, signor! Benedicite!" and makingthe sign of the cross as I respectfully bent my head to receive herblessing, she passed noiselessly from the room. 

One moment later, and a lame and aged lay-sister came to escort me tothe gate. As I passed down the stone corridor a side door opened a verylittle way, and two fair young faces peeped out at me. For an instant Isaw four laughing bright eyes; I heard a smothered voice say, "Oh!c'est un vieux papa!" and then my guide, who though lame was not blind, perceived the opened door and shut it with an angry bang, which, however, did not drown the ringing merriment that echoed from within. On reaching the outer gates I turned to my venerable companion, andlaying four twenty-franc pieces in her shriveled palm, I said:

"Take these to the reverend mother for me, and ask that mass may besaid in the chapel to-morrow for the repose of the soul of him whosename is written here. "

And I gave her Guido Ferrari's visiting-card, adding in lower and moresolemn tones:

"He met with a sudden and unprepared death. Of your charity, pray alsofor the man who killed him!"

The old woman looked startled, and crossed herself devoutly; but shepromised that my wishes should be fulfilled, and I bade her farewelland passed out, the convent gates closing with a dull clang behind me. I walked on a few yards, and then paused, looking back. What a peacefulhome it seemed; how calm and sure a retreat, with the white Noisetteroses crowning its ancient gray walls! Yet what embodied curses werepent up in there in the shape of girls growing to be women; women forwhom all the care, stern training and anxious solicitude of the nunswould be unavailing; women who would come forth from even that abode ofsanctity with vile natures and animal impulses, and who wouldhereafter, while leading a life of vice and hypocrisy, hold up thisvery strictness of their early education as proof of theirunimpeachable innocence and virtue! To such, what lesson is learned bythe daily example of the nuns who mortify their flesh, fast, pray andweep? No lesson at all--nothing save mockery and contempt. To a girl inthe heyday of youth and beauty the life of a religieuse seemsridiculous. "The poor nuns!" she says, with a laugh; "they are soignorant. Their time is over--mine has not yet begun. " Few, very few, among the thousands of young women who leave the scene of their quietschooldays for the social whirligig of the world, ever learn to takelife in earnest, love in earnest, sorrow in earnest. To most of themlife is a large dressmaking and millinery establishment; love aquestion of money and diamonds; sorrow a solemn calculation as to howmuch or how little mourning is considered becoming or fashionable. Andfor creatures such as these we men work--work till our hairs are grayand our backs bent with toil--work till all the joy and zest of livinghas gone from us, and our reward is--what? Happiness?--seldom. Infidelity?--often. Ridicule? Truly we ought to be glad if we are onlyridiculed and thrust back to occupy the second place in our own houses;our lady-wives call that "kind treatment. " Is there a married womanliving who does not now and then throw a small stone of insolent satireat her husband when his back is turned? What, madame? You, who readthese words--you say with indignation: "Certainly there is, and _I_ amthat woman!" Ah, truly? I salute you profoundly!--you are, no doubt, the one exception!

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Avellino is one of those dreamy, quiet and picturesque towns which havenot as yet been desecrated by the Vandal tourist. Persons holding"through tickets" from Messrs. Cook or Gaze do not stop there--thereare no "sights" save the old sanctuary called Monte Virgine standingaloft on its rugged hill, with all the memories of its ancient daysclinging to it like a wizard's cloak, and wrapping it in a sort ofmysterious meditative silence. It can look back through a vista ofeventful years to the eleventh century, when it was erected, so thepeople say, on the ruins of a temple of Cybele. But what do the sheepand geese that are whipped abroad in herds by the drovers Cook and Gazeknow of Monte Virgine or Cybele? Nothing--and they care less; and quietAvellino escapes from their depredations, thankful that it is notmarked on the business map of the drovers' "RUNS. " Shut in by the loftyApennines, built on the slope of the hill that winds gently down into agreen and fruitful valley through which the river Sabato rushes andgleams white against cleft rocks that look like war-worn and desertedcastles, a drowsy peace encircles it, and a sort of stateliness, which, compared with the riotous fun and folly of Naples only thirty milesaway, is as though the statue of a nude Egeria were placed in rivalrywith the painted waxen image of a half-dressed ballet-dancer. Fewlovelier sights are to be seen in nature than a sunset from one of thesmaller hills round Avellino--when the peaks of the Apennines seem tocatch fire from the flaming clouds, and below them, the valleys arefull of those tender purple and gray shadows that one sees on thecanvases of Salvator Rosa, while the town itself looks like a bronzedcarving on an old shield, outlined clearly against the dazzling lusterof the sky. To this retired spot I came--glad to rest for a time frommy work of vengeance--glad to lay down my burden of bitterness for abrief space, and become, as it were, human again, in the sight of thenear mountains. For within their close proximity, things common, thingsmean seem to slip from the soul--a sort of largeness pervades thethoughts, the cramping prosiness of daily life has no room to assertits sway--a grand hush falls on the stormy waters of passion, and likea chidden babe the strong man stands, dwarfed to an infinite littlenessin his own sight, before those majestic monarchs of the landscape whoselarge brows are crowned with the blue circlet of heaven. 

I took up my abode in a quiet, almost humble lodging, living simply, and attended only by Vincenzo. I was tired of the ostentation I hadbeen forced to practice in Naples in order to attain my ends--and itwas a relief to me to be for a time as though I were a poor man. Thehouse in which I found rooms that suited me was a ramblingly built, picturesque little place, situated on the outskirts of the town, andthe woman who owned it, was, in her way, a character. She was a Roman, she told me, with pride flashing in her black eyes--I could guess thatat once by her strongly marked features, her magnificently moldedfigure, and her free, firm tread--that step which is swift withoutbeing hasty, which is the manner born of Rome. She told me her historyin a few words, with such eloquent gestures that she seemed to livethrough it again as she spoke: her husband had been a worker in amarble quarry--one of his fellows had let a huge piece of the rock fallon him, and he was crushed to death. 

"And well do I know, " she said, "that he killed my Toni purposely, forhe would have loved me had he dared. But I am a common woman, seeyou--and it seems to me one cannot lie. And when my love's poor bodywas scarce covered in the earth, that miserable one--the murderer--cameto me--he offered marriage. I accused him of his crime--he deniedit--he said the rock slipped from his hands, he knew not how. I struckhim on the mouth, and bade him leave my sight and take my curse withhim! He is dead now--and surely if the saints have heard me, his soulis not in heaven!"

Thus she spoke with flashing eyes and purposeful energy, while with herstrong brown arms she threw open the wide casement of the sitting-roomI had taken, and bade me view her orchard. It was a fresh green stripof verdure and foliage--about eight acres of good land, plantedentirely with apple-trees. 

"Yes, truly!" she said, showing her white teeth in a pleased smile as Imade the admiring remark she expected. "Avellino has long had a namefor its apples--but, thanks to the Holy Mother, I think in the seasonthere is no fruit in all the neighborhood finer than mine. The produceof it brings me almost enough to live upon--that and the house, when Ican find signori willing to dwell with me. But few strangers comehither; sometimes an artist, sometimes a poet--such as these are soontired of gayety, and are glad to rest. To common persons I would notopen my door--not for pride, ah, no! but when one has a girl, onecannot be too careful. "

"You have a daughter, then?"

Her fierce eyes softened. 

"One--my Lilla. I call her my blessing, and too good for me. Often Ifancy that it is because she tends them that the trees bear so well, and the apples are so sound and sweet! And when she drives the load offruit to market, and sits so smilingly behind the team, it seems to methat her very face brings luck to the sale. "

I smiled at the mother's enthusiasm, and sighed. I had no fair faithsleft--I could not even believe in Lilla. My landlady, Signora Monti asshe was called, saw that I looked fatigued, and left me to myself--andduring my stay I saw very little of her, Vincenzo constituting himselfmy majordomo, or rather becoming for my sake a sort of amiable slave, always looking to the smallest details of my comfort, and studying mywishes with an anxious solicitude that touched while it gratified me. Ihad been fully three days in my retreat before he ventured to enterupon any conversation with me, for he had observed that I always soughtto be alone, that I took long, solitary rambles through the woods and, across the hills--and, not daring to break through my taciturnity, hehad contented himself by merely attending to my material comforts insilence. One afternoon, however, after clearing away the remains of mylight luncheon, he lingered in the room. 

"The eccellenza has not yet seen Lilla Monti?" he asked, hesitatingly. 

I looked at him in some surprise. There was a blush on his olive-tintedcheeks and an unusual sparkle in his eyes. For the first time Irealized that this valet of mine was a handsome young fellow. 

"Seen Lilla Monti!" I repeated, half absently; "oh, you mean the childof the landlady? No, I have not seen her. Why do you ask?"

Vincenzo smiled. "Pardon, eccellenza! but she is beautiful, and thereis a saying in my province: Be the heart heavy as stone, the sight of afair face will lighten it!"

I gave an impatient gesture. "All folly, Vincenzo! Beauty is the curseof the world. Read history, and you shall find the greatest conquerorsand sages ruined and disgraced by its snares. "

He nodded gravely. He probably thought of the announcement I had madeat the banquet of my own approaching marriage, and strove to reconcileit with the apparent inconsistency of my present observation. But hewas too discreet to utter his mind aloud--he merely said:

"No doubt you are right, eccellenza. Still one is glad to see the rosesbloom, and the stars shine, and the foam-bells sparkle on the waves--soone is glad to see Lilla Monti. "

I turned round in my chair to observe him more closely--the flushdeepened on his cheek as I regarded him. I laughed with a bittersadness. 

"In love, amico, art thou? So soon!--three days--and thou hast fallen aprey to the smile of Lilla! I am sorry for thee!"

He interrupted me eagerly. 

"The eccellenza is in error! I would not dare--she is too innocent--sheknows nothing! She is like a little bird in the nest, so soft andtender--a word of love would frighten her; I should be a coward toutter it. "

Well, well! I thought, what was the use of sneering at the poor fellow!Why, because my own love had turned to ashes in my grasp, should I mockat those who fancied they had found the golden fruit of the Hesperides?Vincenzo, once a soldier, now half courier, half valet, was somethingof a poet at heart; he had the grave meditative turn of mind common toTuscans, together with that amorous fire that ever burns under theirlightly worn mask of seeming reserve. 

I roused myself to appear interested. 

"I see, Vincenzo, " I said, with a kindly air of banter, "that the sightof Lilla Monti more than compensates you for that portion of theNeapolitan carnival which you lose by being here. But why you shouldwish me to behold this paragon of maidens I know not, unless you wouldhave me regret my own lost youth. "

A curious and perplexed expression flitted over his face, At last hesaid firmly, as though his mind were made up:

"The eccellenza must pardon me for seeing what perhaps I ought not tohave seen, but--"

"But what?" I asked. 

"Eccellenza, you have not lost your youth. "

I turned my head toward him again--he was looking at me in somealarm--he feared some outburst of anger. 

"Well!" I said, calmly. "That is your idea, is it? and why?"

"Eccellenza, I saw you without your spectacles that day when you foughtwith the unfortunate Signor Ferrari. I watched you when you fired. Youreyes are beautiful and terrible--the eyes of a young man, though yourhair is white. "

Quietly I took off my glasses and laid them on the table beside me. 

"As you have seen me once without them, you can see me again, " Iobserved, gently. "I wear them for a special purpose. Here in Avellinothe purpose does not hold. Thus far I confide in you. But beware howyou betray my confidence. "

"Eccellenza!" cried Vincenzo, in truly pained accents, and with agrieved look. 

I rose and laid my hand on his arm. 

"There! I was wrong--forgive me. You are honest; you have served yourcountry well enough to know the value of fidelity and duty. But whenyou say I have not lost my youth, you are wrong, Vincenzo! I HAVE lostit--it has been killed within me by a great sorrow. The strength, thesuppleness of limb, the brightness of eye these are mere outwardthings: but in the heart and soul are the chill and drear bitterness ofdeserted age. Nay, do not smile; I am in truth very old--so old that Itire of my length of days; yet again, not too old to appreciate youraffection, amico, and"--here I forced a faint smile--"when I see themaiden Lilla, I will tell you frankly what I think of her. "

Vincenzo stooped his head, caught my hand within his own, and kissedit, then left the room abruptly, to hide the tears that my words hadbrought to his eyes. He was sorry for me, I could see, and I judged himrightly when I thought that the very mystery surrounding me increasedhis attachment. On the whole, I was glad he had seen me undisguised, asit was a relief to me to be without my smoked glasses for a time, andduring all the rest of my stay at Avellino I never wore them once. 

One day I saw Lilla. I had strolled up to a quaint church situated on arugged hill and surrounded by fine old chestnut-trees, where there wasa picture of the Scourging of Christ, said to have been the work of FraAngelico. The little sanctuary was quite deserted when I entered it, and I paused on the threshold, touched by the simplicity of the placeand soothed by the intense silence. I walked on my tiptoe up to thecorner where hung the picture I had come to see, and as I did so a girlpassed me with a light step, carrying a basket of fragrant winternarcissi and maiden-hair fern. Something in her graceful, noiselessmovements caused me to look after her; but she had turned her back tome and was kneeling at the shrine consecrated to the Virgin, havingplaced her flowers on the lowest step of the altar. She was dressed inpeasant costume--a simple, short blue skirt and scarlet bodice, relieved by the white kerchief that was knotted about her shoulders;and round her small well-shaped head the rich chestnut hair was coiledin thick shining braids. 

I felt that I must see her face, and for that reason went back to thechurch door and waited till she should pass out. Very soon she cametoward me, with the same light timid step that I had often beforenoticed, and her fair young features were turned fully upon me. Whatwas there in those clear candid eyes that made me involuntarily bow myhead in a reverential salutation as she passed? I know not. It was notbeauty--for though the child was lovely I had seen lovelier; it wassomething inexplicable and rare--something of a maidenly composure andsweet dignity that I had never beheld on any woman's face before. Hercheeks flushed softly as she modestly returned my salute, and when shewas once outside the church door she paused, her small white fingersstill clasping the carven brown beads of her rosary. She hesitated amoment, and then spoke shyly yet brightly:

"If the eccellenza will walk yet a little further up the hill he willsee a finer view of the mountains. "

Something familiar in her look--a sort of reflection of her mother'slikeness--made me sure of her identity. I smiled. 

"Ah! you are Lilla Monti?"

She blushed again. 

"Si, signor. I am Lilla. "

I let my eyes dwell on her searchingly and almost sadly. Vincenzo wasright: the girl was beautiful, not with the forced hot-house beauty ofthe social world and its artificial constraint, but with the lovelinessand fresh radiance which nature gives to those of her cherished oneswho dwell with her in peace. I had seen many exquisite women--women ofJuno-like form and face--women whose eyes were basilisks to draw andcompel the souls of men--but I had never seen any so spiritually fairas this little peasant maiden, who stood fearlessly yet modestlyregarding me with the innocent inquiry of a child who suddenly seessomething new, to which it is unaccustomed. She was a little flutteredby my earnest gaze, and with a pretty courtesy turned to descend thehill. I said gently:

"You are going home, fauciulla mia?"

The kind protecting tone in which I spoke reassured her. She answeredreadily:

"Si signor. My mother waits for me to help her with the eccellenza'sdinner. "

I advanced and took the little hand that held the rosary. 

"What!" I exclaimed, playfully, "do you still work hard, little Lilla, even when the apple season is over?"

She laughed musically. 

"Oh! I love work. It is good for the temper. People are so cross whentheir hands are idle. And many are ill for the same reason. Yes, truly!" and she nodded her head with grave importance, "it is often so. Old Pietro, the cobbler, took to his bed when he had no shoes tomend--yes; he sent for the priest and said he would die, not for wantof money--oh no! he has plenty, he is quite rich--but because he hadnothing to do. So my mother and I found some shoes with holes, and tookthem to him; he sat up in bed to mend them, and now he is as well asever! And we are careful to give him something always. "

She laughed again, and again looked grave. 

"Yes, yes!" she said, with a wise shake of her little glossy head, "onecannot live without work. My mother says that good women are nevertired, it is only wicked persons who are lazy. And that reminds me Imust make haste to return and prepare the eccellenza's coffee. "

"Do you make my coffee, little one?" I asked, "and does not Vincenzohelp you?"

The faintest suspicion of a blush tinged her pretty cheeks. 

"Oh, he is very good, Vincenzo, " she said, demurely, with downcasteyes; "he is what we call buon' amico, yes, indeed! But he is oftenglad when I make coffee for him also; he likes it so much! He says I doit so well! But perhaps the eccellenza will prefer Vincenzo?"

I laughed. She was so naive, so absorbed in her little duties--such achild altogether. 

"Nay, Lilla, I am proud to think you make anything for me. I shallenjoy it more now that I know what kind hands have been at work. Butyou must not spoil Vincenzo--you will turn his head if you make hiscoffee too often. "

She looked surprised. She did not understand. Evidently to her mindVincenzo was nothing but a good-natured young fellow, whose palatecould be pleased by her culinary skill; she treated him, I dare say, exactly as she would have treated one of her own sex. She seemed tothink over my words, as one who considers a conundrum, then sheapparently gave it up as hopeless, and shook her head lightly as thoughdismissing the subject. 

"Will the eccellenza visit the Punto d'Angelo?" she said brightly, asshe turned to go. 

I had never heard of this place, and asked her to what she alluded. 

"It is not far from here, " she explained, "it is the view I spoke ofbefore. Just a little further up the hill you will see a flat grayrock, covered with blue gentians. No one knows how they grow--they arealways there, blooming in summer and winter. But it said that one ofGod's own great angels comes once in every month at midnight to blessthe Monte Vergine, and that he stands on that rock. And of coursewherever the angels tread there are flowers, and no storm can destroythem--not even an avalanche. That is why the people call it the Puntod'Angelo. It will please you to see it, eccellenza--it is but a walk ofa little ten minutes. "

And with a smile, and a courtesy as pretty and as light as a flowermight make to the wind, she left me, half running, half dancing downthe hill, and singing aloud for sheer happiness and innocence of heart. Her pure lark-like notes floated upward toward me where I stood, wistfully watching her as she disappeared. The warm afternoon sunshinecaught lovingly at her chestnut hair, turning it to a golden bronze, and touched up the whiteness of her throat and arms, and brightened thescarlet of her bodice, as she descended the grassy slope, and was atlast lost to my view amid the foliage of the surrounding trees. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

I sighed heavily as I resumed my walk. I realized all that I had lost. This lovely child with her simple fresh nature, why had I not met sucha one and wedded HER instead of the vile creature who had been mysoul's undoing? The answer came swiftly. Even if I HAD seen her when Iwas free, I doubt if I should have known her value. We men of the worldwho have social positions to support, we see little or nothing in thepeasant type of womanhood; we must marry "ladies, " so-called--educatedgirls who are as well versed in the world's ways as ourselves, if notmore so. And so we get the Cleopatras, the Du Barrys, the Pompadours, while unspoiled maidens such as Lilla too often become the householddrudges of common mechanics or day-laborers, living and dying in theone routine of hard work, and often knowing and caring for nothingbetter than the mountain-hut, the farm-kitchen, or the covered stall inthe market-place. Surely it is an ill-balanced world--so many mistakesare made; Fate plays us so many apparently unnecessary tricks, and weare all of us such blind madmen, knowing not whither we are going fromone day to another! I am told that it is no longer fashionable tobelieve in a devil--but I care nothing for fashion! A devil there is Iam sure, who for some inscrutable reason has a share in the ruling ofthis planet--a devil who delights in mocking us from the cradle to thegrave. And perhaps we are never so hopelessly, utterly fooled as in ourmarriages!

Occupied in various thoughts, I scarcely saw where I wandered, till aflashing glimmer of blue blossoms recalled me to the object of my walk. I had reached the Punto d'Angelo. It was, as Lilla had said, a flatrock bare in every place save at the summit, where it was thicklycovered with the lovely gentians, flowers that are rare in this part ofItaly. Here then the fabled angel paused in his flight to bless thevenerable sanctuary of Monte Vergine. I stopped and looked around me. The view was indeed superb--from the leafy bosom of the valley, thegreen hills like smooth, undulating billows rolled upward, till theiremerald verdure was lost in the dense purple shadows and tall peaks ofthe Apennines; the town of Avellino lay at my feet, small yet clearlydefined as a miniature painting on porcelain; and a little furtherbeyond and above me rose the gray tower of the Monte Vergine itself, the one sad and solitary-looking object in all the luxuriant riantelandscape. 

I sat down to rest, not as an intruder on the angel'sflower-embroidered throne, but on a grassy knoll close by. And then Ibethought me of a packet I had received from Naples that morning--apacket that I desired yet hesitated to open. It had been sent by theMarquis D'Avencourt, accompanied by a courteous letter, which informedme that Ferrari's body had been privately buried with all the lastreligious rites in the cemetery, "close to the funeral vault of theRomani family, " wrote D'Avencourt, "as, from all we can hear ordiscover, such seems to have been his own desire. He was, it appears, asort of adopted brother of the lately deceased count, and on beinginformed of this circumstance, we buried him in accordance with thesentiments he would no doubt have expressed had he considered thepossible nearness of his own end at the time of the combat. "

With regard to the packet inclosed, D'Avencourt continued--"Theaccompanying letters were found in Ferrari's breast-pocket, and onopening the first one, in the expectation of finding some clew as tohis last wishes, we came to the conclusion that you, as the futurehusband of the lady whose signature and handwriting you will hererecognize, should be made aware of the contents, not only for your ownsake, but in justice to the deceased. If all the letters are of thesame tone as the one I unknowingly opened, I have no doubt Ferrariconsidered himself a sufficiently injured man. But of that you willjudge for yourself, though, if I might venture so far in the way offriendship, I should recommend you to give careful consideration to theinclosed correspondence before tying the matrimonial knot to which youalluded the other evening. It is not wise to walk on the edge of aprecipice with one's eyes shut! Captain Ciabatti was the first toinform me of what I now know for a fact--namely, that Ferrari left awill in which everything he possessed is made over unconditionally tothe Countess Romani. You will of course draw your own conclusions, andpardon me if I am guilty of trop de zele in your service. I have nowonly to tell you that all the unpleasantness of this affair is passingover very smoothly and without scandal--I have taken care of that. Youneed not prolong your absence further than you feel inclined, and I, for one, shall be charmed to welcome you back to Naples. With everysentiment of the highest consideration and regard, I am, my dear conte, "Your very true friend and servitor, "PHILIPPE D'AVENCOURT. "

I folded this letter carefully and put it aside. The little package hehad sent me lay in my hand--a bundle of neatly folded letters tiedtogether with a narrow ribbon, and strongly perfumed with the faintsickly perfume I knew and abhorred. I turned them over and over; theedges of the note-paper were stained with blood--Guido's blood--asthough in its last sluggish flowing it had endeavored to obliterate alltraces of the daintily penned lines that now awaited my perusal. SlowlyI untied the ribbon. With methodical deliberation I read one letterafter the other. They were all from Nina--all written to Guido while hewas in Rome, some of them bearing the dates of the very days when shehad feigned to love ME--me, her newly accepted husband. One veryamorous epistle had been written on the self-same evening she hadplighted her troth to me! Letters burning and tender, full of the mostpassionate protestations of fidelity, overflowing with the sweetestterms of endearment; with such a ring of truth and love throughout themthat surely it was no wonder that Guido's suspicions were allunawakened, and that he had reason to believe himself safe in hisfool's paradise. One passage in this poetical and romanticcorrespondence fixed my attention: it ran thus:

"Why do you write so much of marriage to me, Guido mio? it seems to mymind that all the joy of loving will be taken from us when once thehard world knows of our passion. If you become my husband you willassuredly cease to be my lover, and that would break my heart. Ah, mybest beloved! I desire you to be my lover always, as you were whenFabio lived--why bring commonplace matrimony into the heaven of such apassion as ours?"

I studied these words attentively. Of course I understood their drift. She had tried to feel her way with the dead man. She had wanted tomarry me, and yet retain Guido for her lonely hours, as "her loveralways!" Such a pretty, ingenious plan it was! No thief, no murdererever laid more cunning schemes than she, but the law looks afterthieves and murderers. For such a woman as this, law says, "Divorceher--that is your best remedy. " Divorce her! Let the criminal goscot-free! Others may do it that choose--I have different ideas ofjustice!

Tying up the packet of letters again, with their sickening perfume andtheir blood-stained edges, I drew out the last graciously wordedmissive I had received from Nina. Of course I heard from her everyday--she was a most faithful correspondent! The same affectionateexpressions characterized her letters to me as those that had deludedher dead lover--with this difference, that whereas she inveighed muchagainst the prosiness of marriage to Guido, to me she drew the muchtouching pictures of her desolate condition: how lonely she had feltsince her "dear husband's" death, how rejoiced she was to think thatshe was soon again to be a happy wife--the wife of one so noble, sotrue, so devoted as I was! She had left the convent and was now athome--when should she have the happiness of welcoming me, her bestbeloved Cesare, back to Naples? She certainly deserved some credit forartistic lying; I could not understand how she managed it so well. Almost I admired her skill, as one sometimes admires a cool-headedburglar, who has more skill, cunning, and pluck than his comrades. Ithought with triumph that though the wording of Ferrari's will enabledher to secure all other letters she might have written to him, this onelittle packet of documentary evidence was more than sufficient for MYpurposes. And I resolved to retain it in my own keeping till the timecame for me to use it against her. 

And how about D'Avencourt's friendly advice concerning the matrimonialknot? "A man should not walk on the edge of a precipice with his eyesshut. " Very true. But if his eyes are open, and he has his enemy by thethroat, the edge of a precipice is a convenient position for hurlingthat enemy down to death in a quiet way, that the world need knownothing of! So for the present I preferred the precipice to walking onlevel ground. 

I rose from my seat near the Punto d'Angelo. It was growing late in theafternoon. From the little church below me soft bells rang out theAngelus, and with them chimed in a solemn and harsher sound from theturret of the Monte Vergine. I lifted my hat with the customaryreverence, and stood listening, with my feet deep in the grass andscented thyme, and more than once glanced up at the height whereon thevenerable sanctuary held its post, like some lonely old god of memorybrooding over vanished years. There, according to tradition, was oncecelebrated the worship of the many-breasted Cybele; down that veryslope of grass dotted with violets had rushed the howling, nakedpriests beating their discordant drums and shrinking their laments forthe loss of Atys, the beautiful youth, their goddess's paramour. Infidelity again!--even in this ancient legend, what did Cybele carefor old Saturn, whose wife she was? Nothing, less than nothing!--andher adorers worshiped not her chastity, but her faithlessness; it isthe way of the world to this day!

The bells ceased ringing; I descended the hill and returned homewardthrough a shady valley, full of the odor of pines and bog-myrtle. Onreaching the gate of the Signora Monti's humble yet picturesquedwelling, I heard the sound of laughter and clapping of hands, andlooking in the direction of the orchard, I saw Vincenzo hard at work, his shirt-sleeves rolled up to the shoulder, splitting some goodly logsof wood, while Lilla stood beside him, merrily applauding andencouraging his efforts. He seemed quite in his element, and wieldedhis ax with a regularity and vigor I should scarcely have expected froma man whom I was accustomed to see performing the somewhat effeminateduties of a valet-de-chambre. I watched him and the fair girl besidehim for a few moments, myself unperceived. 

If this little budding romance were left alone it would ripen into aflower, and Vincenzo would be a happier man than his master. He was atrue Tuscan, from the very way he handled his wood-ax; I could see thathe loved the life of the hills and fields--the life of a simple farmerand fruit-grower, full of innocent enjoyments, as sweet as the ripeapples in his orchard. I could foresee his future with Lilla besidehim. He would have days of unwearying contentment, rendered beautifulby the free fresh air and the fragrance of flowers--his evenings wouldslip softly by to the tinkle of the mandolin, and the sound of his wifeand children's singing. 

What fairer fate could a man desire?--what life more certain to keephealth in the body and peace in the mind? Could I not help him to hishappiness, I wondered? I, who had grown stern with long brooding uponmy vengeance--could I not aid in bringing joy to others! If I could, mymind would be somewhat lightened of its burden--a burden grown heaviersince Guide's death, for from his blood had sprung forth a new group ofFuries, that lashed me on to my task with scorpion whips of redoubledwrath and passionate ferocity. Yet if I could do one good actionnow--would it not be as a star shining in the midst of my soul's stormand darkness? Just then Lilla laughed--how sweetly!--the laugh of avery young child. What amused her now? I looked, and saw that she hadtaken the ax from Vincenzo, and lifting it in her little hands, wasendeavoring bravely to imitate his strong and telling stroke; hemeanwhile stood aside with an air of smiling superiority, mingled witha good deal of admiration for the slight active figure arrayed in theblue kirtle and scarlet bodice, on which the warm rays of the late sunfell with so much amorous tenderness. Poor little Lilla! A penknifewould have made as much impression as her valorous blows produced onthe inflexible, gnarled, knotty old stump she essayed to split intwain. Flushed and breathless with her efforts, she looked prettierthan ever, and at last, baffled, she resigned her ax to Vincenzo, laughing gayly at her incapacity for wood-cutting, and daintily shakingher apron free from the chips and dust, till a call from her mothercaused her to run swiftly into the house, leaving Vincenzo working awayas arduously as ever. I went up to him; he saw me approaching, andpaused in his labors with an air of slight embarrassment. 

"You like this sort of work, amico?" I said, gently. 

"An old habit, eccellenza--nothing more. It reminds me of the days ofmy youth, when I worked for my mother. Ah! a pleasant place it was--theold home just above Fiesole. " His eyes grew pensive and sad. "It is allgone now--finished. That was before I became a soldier. But one thinksof it sometimes. "

"I understand. And no doubt you would be glad to return to the life ofyour boyhood?"

He looked a little startled. 

"Not to leave YOU, eccellenza!"

I smiled rather sadly. "Not to leave ME? Not if you wedded Lilla Monti?"

His olive cheek flushed, but he shook his head. 

"Impossible! She would not listen to me. She is a child. "

"She will soon be a woman, believe me! A little more of your companywill make her so. But there is plenty of time. She is beautiful, as yousaid: and something better than that, she is innocent--think of that, Vincenzo! Do you know how rare a thing innocence is--in a woman?Respect it as you respect God; let her young life be sacred to you. "

He glanced upward reverently. 

"Eccellenza, I would as soon tear the Madonna from her altars as vex orfrighten Lilla!"

I smiled and said no more, but turned into the house. From that momentI resolved to let this little love-idye have a fair chance of success. Therefore I remained at Avellino much longer than I had at firstintended, not for my own sake, but for Vincenzo's. He served mefaithfully; he should have his reward. I took a pleasure in noticingthat my efforts to promote his cause were not altogether wasted. Ispoke with Lilla often on indifferent matters that interested her, andwatched her constantly when she was all unaware of my observant gaze. With me she was as frank and fearless as a tame robin; but after somedays I found that she grew shy of mentioning the name of Vincenzo, thatshe blushed when he approached her, that she was timid of asking him todo anything for her; and from all these little signs I knew her mind, as one knows by the rosy streaks in the sky that the sunrise is near. 

One afternoon I called the Signora Monti to my room. She came, surprised, and a little anxious. Was anything wrong with the service? Ireassured her housewifely scruples, and came to the point at once. 

"I would speak to you of your child, the little Lilla, " I said, kindly. "Have you ever thought that she may marry?"

Her dark bold eyes filled with tears and her lips quivered. 

"Truly I have, " she replied with a wistful sadness; "but I have prayed, perhaps foolishly, that she would not leave me yet. I love her so well;she is always a babe to me, so small and sweet! I put the thought ofher marriage from me as a sorrowful thing. "

"I understand your feeling, " I said. "Still, suppose your daughterwedded a man who would be to you as a son, and who would not part herfrom you?--for instance, let us say Vincenzo?"

Signora Monti smiled through her tears. 

"Vincenzo! He is a good lad, a very good lad, and I love him; but hedoes not think of Lilla--he is devoted to the eccellenza. "

"I am aware of his devotion, " I answered. "Still I believe you willfind out soon that he loves your Lilla. At present he says nothing--hefears to offend you and alarm her; but his eyes speak--so do hers. Youare a good woman, a good mother; watch them both, you will soon tellwhether love is between them or no. And see, " here I handed her asealed envelope, "in this you will find notes to the amount of fourthousand francs. " She uttered a little cry of amazement. "It is Lilla'sdowry, whoever she marries, though I think she will marry Vincenzo. Nay--no thanks, money is of no value to me; and this is the onepleasure I have had for many weary months. Think well of Vincenzo--heis an excellent fellow. And all I ask of you is, that you keep thislittle dowry a secret till the day of your fair child's espousals. "

Before I could prevent her the enthusiastic woman had seized my handand kissed it. Then she lifted her head with the proud free-borndignity of a Roman matron; her broad bosom heaved, and her strong voicequivered with suppressed emotion. 

"I thank you, signor, " she said, simply, "for Lilla's sake! Not that mylittle one needs more than her mother's hands have toiled for, thanksbe to the blessed saints who have had us both in their keeping! Butthis is a special blessing of God sent through your hands, and I shouldbe unworthy of all prosperity were I not grateful. Eccellenza, pardonme, but my eyes are quick to see that you have suffered sorrow. Goodactions lighten grief! We will pray for your happiness, Lilla and I, till the last breath leaves our lips. Believe it--the name of ourbenefactor shall be lifted to the saints night and morning, and whoknows but good may come of it!"

I smiled faintly. 

"Good will come of it, my excellent signora, though I am all unworthyof your prayers. Rather pray, " and I sighed heavily, "for the dead, 'that they may be loosed from their sins. '"

The good woman looked at me with a sort of kindly pity mingled withawe, then murmuring once more her thanks and blessing, she left theroom. A few minutes afterward Vincenzo entered. I addressed himcheerfully. 

"Absence is the best test of love, Vincenzo; prepare all for ourdeparture! We shall leave Avellino the day after to-morrow. "

And so we did. Lilla looked slightly downcast, but Vincenzo seemedsatisfied, and I augured from their faces, and from the mysterioussmile of Signor Monti, that all was going well. I left the beautifulmountain town with regret, knowing I should see it no more. I touchedLilla's fair cheek lightly at parting, and took what I knew was my lastlook into the sweet candid young face. Yet the consciousness that I haddone some little good gave my tired heart a sense of satisfaction andrepose--a feeling I had not experienced since I died and rose againfrom the dead. 

On the last day of January I returned to Naples, after an absence ofmore than a month, and was welcomed back by all my numerousacquaintance with enthusiasm. The Marquis D'Avencourt had informed merightly--the affair of the duel was a thing of the past--an almostforgotten circumstance. The carnival was in full riot, the streets werescenes of fantastic mirth and revelry; there was music and song, dancing and masquerading, and feasting. But I withdrew from the tumultof merriment, and absorbed myself in the necessary preparations for--mymarriage. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Looking back on the incidents of those strange feverish weeks thatpreceded my wedding-day, they seemed to me like the dreams of a dyingman. Shifting colors, confused images, moments of clear light, hours oflong darkness--all things gross, refined, material, and spiritual wereshaken up in my life like the fragments in a kaleidoscope, everchanging into new forms and bewildering patterns. My brain was clear;yet I often questioned myself whether I was not going mad--whether allthe careful methodical plans I formed were but the hazy fancies of ahopelessly disordered mind? Yet no; each detail of my scheme was toocomplete, too consistent, too business-like for that. A madman may havea method of action to a certain extent, but there is always some slightslip, some omission, some mistake which helps to discover hiscondition. Now, _I_ forgot nothing--I had the composed exactitude of acareful banker who balances his accounts with the most elaborateregularity. I can laugh to think of it all now; but THEN--then I moved, spoke, and acted like a human machine impelled by stronger forces thanmy own--in all things precise, in all things inflexible. 

Within the week of my return from Avellino my coming marriage with theCountess Romani was announced. Two days after it had been made public, while sauntering across the Largo del Castello, I met the MarquisD'Avencourt. I had not seen him since the morning of the duel, and hispresence gave me a sort of nervous shock. He was exceedingly cordial, though I fancied he was also slightly embarrassed After a fewcommonplace remarks he said, abruptly:

"So your marriage will positively take place?"

I forced a laugh. 

"Ma! certamente! Do you doubt it?"

His handsome face clouded and his manner grew still more constrained. 

"No; but I thought--I had hoped--"

"Mon cher, " I said, airily, "I perfectly understand to what you allude. But we men of the world are not fastidious--we know better than to payany heed to the foolish love-fancies of a woman before her marriage, solong as she does not trick us afterward. The letters you sent me weretrifles, mere trifles! In wedding the Contessa Romani I assure you Ibelieve I secure the most virtuous as well as the most lovely woman inEurope!" And I laughed again heartily. 

D'Avencourt looked puzzled; but he was a punctilious man, and knew howto steer clear of a delicate subject. He smiled. 

"A la bonne heure, " he said--"I wish you joy with all my heart! You arethe best judge of your own happiness; as for me--vive la liberte!"

And with a gay parting salute he left me. No one else in the cityappeared to share his foreboding scruples, if he had any, about myforthcoming marriage. It was everywhere talked of with as much interestand expectation as though it were some new amusement invented toheighten the merriment of carnival. Among other things, I earned thereputation of being a most impatient lover, for now I would consent tono delays. I hurried all the preparations on with feverishprecipitation. I had very little difficulty in persuading Nina that thesooner our wedding took place the better; she was to the full as eageras myself, as ready to rush on her own destruction as Guido had been. Her chief passion was avarice, and the repeated rumors of my supposedfabulous wealth had aroused her greed from the very moment she hadfirst met me in my assumed character of the Count Oliva. As soon as herengagement to me became known in Naples, she was an object of envy toall those of her own sex who, during the previous autumn, had laid outtheir store of fascinations to entrap me in vain--and this made herperfectly happy. Perhaps the supremest satisfaction a woman of thissort can attain to is the fact of making her less fortunate sistersdiscontented and miserable! I loaded her, of course, with the costliestgifts, and she, being the sole mistress of the fortune left her by her"late husband, " as well as of the unfortunate Guido's money, set nolimits to her extravagance. She ordered the most expensive andelaborate costumes; she was engaged morning after morning withdressmakers, tailors, and milliners, and she was surrounded by acertain favored "set" of female friends, for whose benefit shedisplayed the incoming treasures of her wardrobe till they were readyto cry for spite and vexation, though they had to smile and hold intheir wrath and outraged vanity beneath the social mask of complacentcomposure. And Nina loved nothing better than to torture the poor womenwho were stinted of pocket-money with the sight of shimmering satins, soft radiating plushes, rich velvets, embroidery studded with realgems, pieces of costly old lace, priceless scents, and articles ofbijouterie; she loved also to dazzle the eyes and bewilder the brainsof young girls, whose finest toilet was a garb of simplest white stuffunadorned save by a cluster of natural blossoms, and to send them awaysick at heart, pining for they knew not what, dissatisfied witheverything, and grumbling at fate for not permitting them to deckthemselves in such marvelous "arrangements" of costume as thosepossessed by the happy, the fortunate future Countess Oliva. 

Poor maidens! had they but known all they would not have envied her!Women are too fond of measuring happiness by the amount of fine clothesthey obtain, and I truly believe dress is the one thing that neverfails to console them. How often a fit of hysterics can be cut short bythe opportune arrival of a new gown!

My wife, in consideration of her approaching second nuptial, had thrownoff her widow's crape, and now appeared clad in those soft subduedhalf-tints of color that suited her fragile, fairy-like beauty toperfection. All her old witcheries and her graceful tricks of mannerand speech were put forth again for my benefit. I knew them all sowell! I understood the value of her light caresses and languishinglooks so thoroughly! She was very anxious to attain the full dignity ofher position as the wife of so rich a nobleman as I was reputed to be, therefore she raised no objection when I fixed the day of our marriagefor Giovedi Grasso. Then the fooling and mumming, the dancing, shrieking, and screaming would be at its height; it pleased my whim tohave this other piece of excellent masquerading take place at the sametime. 

The wedding was to be as private as possible, owing to my wife's"recent sad bereavements, " as she herself said with a pretty sigh andtearful, pleading glance. It would take place in the chapel of SanGennaro, adjoining the cathedral. We were married there before! Duringthe time that intervened, Nina's manner was somewhat singular. To meshe was often timid, and sometimes half conciliatory. Now and then Icaught her large dark eyes fixed on me with a startled, anxious look, but this expression soon passed away. She was subject, too, to wildfits of merriment, and anon to moods of absorbed and gloomy silence. Icould plainly see that she was strung up to an extreme pitch of nervousexcitement and irritability, but I asked her no questions. If--Ithought--if she tortured herself with memories, all the better--if shesaw, or fancied she saw, the resemblance between me and her "dear deadFabio, " it suited me that she should be so racked and bewildered. 

I came and went to and fro from the villa as I pleased. I wore my darkglasses as usual, and not even Giacomo could follow me with hispeering, inquisitive gaze; for since the night he had been hurled sofiercely to the ground by Guido's reckless and impatient hand, the poorold man had been paralyzed, and had spoken no word. He lay in an upperchamber, tended by Assunta, and my wife had already written to hisrelatives in Lombardy, asking them to send for him home. 

"Of what use to keep him?" she had asked me. 

True! Of what use to give even roof-shelter to a poor old humancreature, maimed, broken, and useless for evermore? After long years offaithful service, turn him out, cast him forth! If he die of neglect, starvation, and ill-usage, what matter?--he is a worn-out tool, his dayis done--let him perish. I would not plead for him--why should I? I hadmade my own plans for his comfort--plans shortly to be carried out; andin the mean time Assunta nursed him tenderly as he lay speechless, withno more strength than a year-old baby, and only a bewildered pain inhis upturned, lack-luster eyes. One incident occurred during these lastdays of my vengeance that struck a sharp pain to my heart, togetherwith a sense of the bitterest anger. I had gone up to the villasomewhat early in the morning, and on crossing the lawn I saw a darkform stretched motionless on one of the paths that led directly up tothe house. I went to examine it, and started back in horror--it was mydog Wyvis shot dead. His silky black head and forepaws were dabbled inblood--his honest brown eyes were glazed with the film of his dyingagonies. Sickened and infuriated at the sight, I called to a gardenerwho was trimming the shrubbery. 

"Who has done this?" I demanded. 

The man looked pityingly at the poor bleeding remains, and said, in alow voice:

"It was madama's order, signor. The dog bit her yesterday; we shot himat daybreak. "

I stooped to caress the faithful animal's body, and as I stroked thesilky coat my eyes were dim with tears. 

"How did it happen?" I asked in smothered accents. "Was your lady hurt?"

The gardener shrugged his shoulders and sighed. 

"Ma!--no! But he tore the lace on her dress with his teeth and grazedher hand. It was little, but enough. He will bite no more--poverabestia!"

I gave the fellow five francs. 

"I liked the dog, " I said briefly, "he was a faithful creature. Buryhim decently under that tree, " and I pointed to the giant cypress onthe lawn, "and take this money for your trouble. "

He looked surprised but grateful, and promised to do my bidding. Oncemore sorrowfully caressing the fallen head of perhaps the truest friendI ever possessed, I strode hastily into the house, and met Nina comingout of her morning-room, clad in one of her graceful trailing garments, in which soft lavender hues were blended like the shaded colors of lateand early violets. 

"So Wyvis has been shot?" I said, abruptly. 

She gave a slight shudder. 

"Oh, yes; is it not sad? But I was compelled to have it done. YesterdayI went past his kennel within reach of his chain, and he sprungfuriously at me for no reason at all. See!" And holding up her smallhand she showed me three trifling marks in the delicate flesh. "I feltthat you would be so unhappy if you thought I kept a dog that was atall dangerous, so I determined to get rid of him. It is always painfulto have a favorite animal killed; but really Wyvis belonged to my poorhusband, and I think he has never been quite safe since his master'sdeath, and now Giacomo is ill--"

"I see!" I said, curtly, cutting her explanations short. 

Within myself I thought how much more sweet and valuable was the dog'slife than hers. Brave Wyvis--good Wyvis! He had done his best--he hadtried to tear her dainty flesh; his honest instincts had led him toattempt rough vengeance on the woman he had felt was his master's foe. And he had met his fate, and died in the performance of duty. But Isaid no more on the subject. The dog's death was not alluded to againby either Nina or myself. He lay in his mossy grave under the cypressboughs--his memory untainted by any lie, and his fidelity enshrined inmy heart as a thing good and gracious, far exceeding theself-interested friendship of so-called Christian humanity. 

The days passed slowly on. To the revelers who chased the flying stepsof carnival with shouting and laughter, no doubt the hours were brief, being so brimful of merriment; but to me, who heard nothing save themeasured ticking of my own timepiece of revenge, and who saw naughtsave its hands, that every second drew nearer to the last and fatalfigure on the dial, the very moments seemed long and laden withweariness. I roamed the streets of the city aimlessly, feeling morelike a deserted stranger than a well-known envied nobleman, whosewealth made him the cynosure of all eyes. The riotous glee, the music, the color that whirled and reeled through the great street of Toledo atthis season bewildered and pained me. Though I knew and was accustomedto the wild vagaries of carnival, yet this year they seemed to be outof place, distracting, senseless, and all unfamiliar. 

Sometimes I escaped from the city tumult and wandered out to thecemetery. There I would stand, dreamily looking at the freshly turnedsods above Guido Ferrari's grave. No stone marked the spot as yet, butit was close to the Romani vault--not more than a couple of yards awayfrom the iron grating that barred the entrance to that dim and fatalcharnel-house. I had a drear fascination for the place, and more thanonce I went to the opening of that secret passage made by the brigandsto ascertain if all was safe and undisturbed. Everything was as I hadleft it, save that the tangle of brush-wood had become thicker, andweeds and brambles had sprung up, making it less visible than before, and probably rendering it more impassable. By a fortunate accident Ihad secured the key of the vault. I knew that for family burial-placesof this kind there are always two keys--one left in charge of thekeeper of the cemetery, the other possessed by the person or persons towhom the mausoleum belongs, and this other I managed to obtain. 

On one occasion, being left for some time alone in my own library atthe villa, I remembered that in an upper drawer of an old oakenescritoire that stood there, had always been a few keys belonging tothe doors of cellars and rooms in the house. I looked, and found themlying there as usual; they all had labels attached to them, signifyingtheir use, and I turned them over impatiently, not finding what Isought. I was about to give up the search, when I perceived a largerusty iron key that had slipped to the back of the drawer; I pulled itout, and to my satisfaction it was labeled "Mausoleum. " I immediatelytook possession of it, glad to have obtained so useful and necessary animplement; I knew that I should soon need it. The cemetery was quitedeserted at this festive season--no one visited it to lay wreaths offlowers or sacred mementoes on the last resting-places of theirfriends. In the joys of the carnival who thinks of the dead? In myfrequent walks there I was always alone; I might have opened my ownvault and gone down into it without being observed, but I did not; Icontented myself with occasionally trying the key in the lock, andassuring myself that it worked without difficulty. 

Returning from one of these excursions late on a mild afternoon towardthe end of the week preceding my marriage, I bent my steps toward theMolo, where I saw a picturesque group of sailors and girls dancing oneof those fantastic, graceful dances of the country, in whichimpassioned movement and expressive gesticulation are everything. Theirsteps were guided and accompanied by the sonorous twanging of afull-toned guitar and the tinkling beat of a tambourine. Theirhandsome, animated faces, their flashing eyes and laughing lips, theirgay, many-colored costumes, the glitter of beads on the brown necks ofthe maidens, the red caps jauntily perched on the thick black curls ofthe fishermen--all made up a picture full of light and life thrown upinto strong relief against the pale gray and amber tints of theFebruary sky and sea; while shadowing overhead frowned the stern darkwalls of the Castel Nuovo. 

It was such a scene as the English painter Luke Fildes might love todepict on his canvas--the one man of to-day who, though born of theland of opaque mists and rain-burdened clouds, has, notwithstandingthese disadvantages, managed to partly endow his brush with theexhaustless wealth and glow of the radiant Italian color. I watched thedance with a faint sense of pleasure--it was full of so much harmonyand delicacy of rhythm. The lad who thrummed the guitar broke out nowand then into song--a song in dialect that fitted into the music of thedance as accurately as a rosebud into its calyx. I could notdistinguish all the words he sung, but the refrain was always the same, and he gave it in every possible inflection and variety of tone, fromgrave to gay, from pleading to pathetic. 

 "Che bella cosa e de morire acciso, Nnanze a la porta de la nnamorata!" [Footnote: Neapolitan dialect. ]

meaning literally--"How beautiful a thing to die, suddenly slain at thedoor of one's beloved!"

There was no sense in the thing, I thought half angrily--it was astupid sentiment altogether. Yet I could not help smiling at theragged, barefooted rascal who sung it: he seemed to feel such agratification in repeating it, and he rolled his black eyes withlovelorn intensity, and breathed forth sighs that sounded through hismusic with quite a touching earnestness. Of course he was onlyfollowing the manner of all Neapolitans, namely, acting his song; theyall do it, and cannot help themselves. But this boy had a peculiarlyroguish way of pausing and crying forth a plaintive "Ah!" before headded "Che bella cosa, " etc. , which gave point and piquancy to hisabsurd ditty. He was evidently brimful of mischief--his expressionbetokened it; no doubt he was one of the most thorough little scampsthat ever played at "morra, " but there was a charm about his handsomedirty face and unkempt hair, and I watched him amusedly, glad to bedistracted for a few minutes from the tired inner workings of my ownunhappy thoughts. In time to come, so I mused, this very boy mightlearn to set his song about the "beloved" to a sterner key, and mightfind it meet, not to be slain himself, but to slay HER! Such athing--in Naples--was more than probable. By and by the dance ceased, and I recognized in one of the breathless, laughing sailors my oldacquaintance Andrea Luziani, with whom I had sailed to Palermo. Thesight of him relieved me from a difficulty which had puzzled me forsome days, and as soon as the little groups of men and women hadpartially dispersed, I walked up to him and touched him on theshoulder. He started, looked round surprised, and did not appear torecognize me. I remembered that when he had seen me I had not grown abeard, neither had I worn dark spectacles. I recalled my name to him;his face cleared and he smiled. 

"Ah! buon giorno, eccellenza!" he cried. "A thousand pardons that I didnot at first know you! Often have I thought of you! often have I heardyour name--ah! what a name! Rich, great, generous!--ah! what a gladlife! And on the point of marrying--ah, Dio! love makes all thetroubles go--so!" and taking his cigar from his mouth, he puffed a ringof pale smoke into the air and laughed gayly. Then suddenly lifting hiscap from his clustering black hair, he added, "All joy be with you, eccellenza!"

I smiled and thanked him. I noticed he looked at me curiously. 

"You think I have changed in appearance, my friend?" I said. 

The Sicilian looked embarrassed. 

"Ebbene! we must all change, " he answered, lightly, evading my glance. "The days pass on--each day takes a little bit of youth away with it. One grows old without knowing it!"

I laughed. 

"I see, " I observed. "You think I have aged somewhat since you saw me?"

"A little, eccellenza, " he frankly confessed. 

"I have suffered severe illness, " I said, quietly, "and my eyes arestill weak, as you perceive, " and I touched my glasses. "But I shallget stronger in time. Can you come with me for a few moments? I wantyour help in a matter of importance. "

He nodded a ready assent and followed me. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

We left the Molo, and paused at a retired street corner leading fromthe Chiaja. 

"You remember Carmelo Neri?" I asked. 

Andrea shrugged his shoulders with an air of infinite commiseration. 

"Ah! povero diavolo! Well do I remember him! A bold fellow and brave, with a heart in him, too, if one did but know where to find it. And nowhe drags the chain! Well, well, no doubt it is what he deserves; but Isay, and always will maintain, there are many worse men than Carmelo. "

I briefly related how I had seen the captured brigand in the square atPalermo and had spoken with him. "I mentioned you, " I added, "and hebade me tell you Teresa had killed herself. "

"Ah! that I well know, " said the little captain, who had listened to meintently, and over whose mobile face flitted a shadow of tender pity, as he sighed. "Poverinetta! So fragile and small! To think she had theforce to plunge the knife in her breast! As well imagine a little birdflying down to pierce itself on an uplifted bayonet. Ay, ay! women willdo strange things--and it is certain she loved Carmelo. "

"You would help him to escape again if you could, no doubt?" I inquiredwith a half smile. 

The ready wit of the Sicilian instantly asserted itself. 

"Not I, eccellenza, " he replied, with an air of dignity and mostvirtuous honesty. "No, no, not now. The law is the law, and I, AndreaLuziani, am not one to break it. No, Carmelo must take his punishment;it is for life they say--and hard as it seems, it is but just. When thelittle Teresa was in the question, look you, what could I do? butnow--let the saints that choose help Carmelo, for I will not. "

I laughed as I met the audacious flash of his eyes; I knew, despite hisprotestations, that if Carmelo Neri ever did get clear of the galleys, it would be an excellent thing for him if Luziani's vessel chanced tobe within reach. 

"You have your brig the 'Laura' still?" I asked him. 

"Yes, eccellenza, the Madonna be praised! And she has been newly riggedand painted, and she is as trig and trim a craft as you can meet within all the wide blue waters of the Mediterranean. "

"Now you see, " I sad, impressively, "I have a friend, a relative, whois in trouble: he wishes to get away from Naples quietly and in secret. Will you help him? You shall be paid whatever you think proper todemand. "

The Sicilian looked puzzled. He puffed meditatively at his cigar andremained silent. 

"He is not pursued by the law, " I continued, noting his hesitation. "Heis simply involved in a cruel difficulty brought upon him by his ownfamily--he seeks to escape from unjust persecution. "

Andrea's brow cleared. 

"Oh, if that is the case, eccellenza, I am at your service. But wheredoes your friend desire to go?"

I paused for a moment and considered. 

"To Civita Vecchia, " I said at last, "from that port he can obtain aship to take him to his further destination. "

The captain's expressive face fell--he looked very dubious. 

"To Civita Vecchia is a long way, a very long way, " he said, regretfully; "and it is the bad season, and there are cross currentsand contrary winds. With all the wish in the world to please you, eccellenza, I dare not run the 'Laura' so far; but there is anothermeans--"

And interrupting himself he considered awhile in silence. I waitedpatiently for him to speak. 

"Whether it would suit your friend I know not, " he said at last, layinghis hand confidentially on my arm, "but there is a stout brig leavinghere for Civita Vecchia on Friday morning next--"

"The day after Giovedi Grasso?" I queried, with a smile he did notunderstand. He nodded. 

"Exactly so. She carries a cargo of Lacrima Cristi, and she is a swiftsailer. I know her captain--he is a good soul; but, " and Andrea laughedlightly, "he is like the rest of us--he loves money. You do not countthe francs--no, they are nothing to you--but we look to the soldi. Now, if it please you I will make him a certain offer of passage money, aslarge as you shall choose, also I will tell him when to expect his onepassenger, and I can almost promise you that he will not say no!"

This proposal fitted in so excellently with my plans that I acceptedit, and at once named an exceptionally munificent sum for the passagerequired. Andrea's eyes glistened as he heard. 

"It is a little fortune!" he cried, enthusiastically. "Would that Icould earn as much in twenty voyages! But one should not bechurlish--such luck cannot fall in all men's way. "

I smiled. 

"And do you think, amico, I will suffer you to go unrewarded?" I said. And placing two twenty-franc pieces in his brown palm I added, "As yourightly said, francs are nothing to me. Arrange this little matterwithout difficulty, and you shall not be forgotten. You can call at myhotel to-morrow or the next day, when you have settled everything--hereis the address, " and I penciled it on my card and gave it to him; "butremember, this is a secret matter, and I rely upon you to explain it assuch to your friend who commands the brig going to Civita Vecchia. Hemust ask no questions of his passenger--the more silence the morediscretion--and when once he has landed him at his destination he willdo well to straightway forget all about him. You understand?"

Andrea nodded briskly. 

"Si, si, signer. He has a bad memory as it is--it shall grow worse atyour command! Believe it!"

I laughed, shook hands, and parted with the friendly little fellow, hereturning to the Molo, and I slowly walking homeward by way of theVilla Reale. An open carriage coming swiftly toward me attracted myattention; as it drew nearer I recognized the prancing steeds and thefamiliar liveries. A fair woman clad in olive velvets and Russiansables looked out smiling, and waved her hand. 

It was my wife--my betrothed bride, and beside her sat the Duchess diMarina, the most irreproachable of matrons, famous for her piety notonly in Naples but throughout Italy. So immaculate was she that it wasdifficult to imagine her husband daring to caress that upright, well-dressed form, or venturing to kiss those prim lips, colder thanthe carven beads of her jeweled rosary. Yet there was a story about hertoo--an old story that came from Padua--of how a young and handsomenobleman had been found dead at her palace doors, stabbed to the heart. Perhaps--who knows--he also might have thought--

 "Che bella cosa e de morire accisa, Nnanze a la porta de la nnamorata!"

Some said the duke had killed him; but nothing could be proved, nothingwas certain. The duke was silent, so was is duchess; and Scandalherself sat meekly with closed lips in the presence of this stately andaugust couple, whose bearing toward each other in society was a lessonof complete etiquette to the world. What went on behind the scenes noone could tell. I raised my hat with the profoundest deference as thecarriage containing the two ladies dashed by; I knew not which was thecleverest hypocrite of the two, therefore I did equal honor to both. Iwas in a meditative and retrospective mood, and when I reached theToledo the distracting noises, the cries of the flower-girls, andvenders of chestnuts and confetti, the nasal singing of thestreet-rhymers, the yells of punchinello, and the answering laughter ofthe populace, were all beyond my endurance. To gratify a sudden whimthat seized me, I made my way into the lowest and dirtiest quarters ofthe city, and roamed through wretched courts and crowded alleys, tryingto discover that one miserable street which until now I had alwaysavoided even the thought of, where I had purchased the coral-fisher'sclothes on the day of my return from the grave. I went in many wrongdirections, but at last I found it, and saw at a glance that the oldrag-dealer's shop was still there, in its former condition ofheterogeneous filth and disorder. A man sat at the door smoking, butnot the crabbed and bent figure I had before seen--this was a youngerand stouter individual, with a Jewish cast of countenance, and dark, ferocious eyes. I approached him, and seeing by my dress and mannerthat I was some person of consequence, he rose, drew his pipe from hismouth, and raised his greasy cap with a respectful yet suspicious air. 

"Are you the owner of this place?" I asked. 

"Si, signor!"

"What has become of the old man who used to live here?"

He laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and drew his pipe-stem across histhroat with a significant gesture. 

"So, signor!--with a sharp knife! He had a good deal of blood, too, forso withered a body. To kill himself in that fashion was stupid: hespoiled an Indian shawl that was on his bed, worth more than a thousandfrancs. One would not have thought he had so much blood. "

And the fellow put back his pipe in his mouth and smoked complacently. I heard in sickened silence. 

"He was mad, I suppose?" I said at last. 

The long pipe was again withdrawn. 

"Mad? Well, the people say so. I for one think he was veryreasonable--all except that matter of the shawl--he should have takenthat off his bed first. But he was wise enough to know that he was ofno use to anybody--he did the best he could! Did you know him, signor?"

"I gave him money once, " I replied, evasively; then taking out a fewfrancs I handed them to this evil-eyed, furtive-looking son of Israel, who received the gift with effusive gratitude. 

"Thank you for your information, " I said coldly. "Good-day. "

"Good-day to you, signor, " he replied, resuming his seat and watchingme curiously as I turned away. 

I passed out of the wretched street feeling faint and giddy. The end ofthe miserable rag-dealer been told to me briefly and brutallyenough--yet somehow I was moved to a sense of regret and pity. Abjectlypoor, half crazy, and utterly friendless, he had been a brother of minein the same bitterness and irrevocable sorrow. I wondered with a halfshudder--would my end be like his? When my vengeance was completedshould I grow shrunken, and old, and mad, and one lurid day draw asharp knife across my throat as a finish to my life's history? I walkedmore rapidly to shake off the morbid fancies that thus insidiouslycrept in on my brain; and as before, the noise and glitter of theToledo had been unbearable, so now I found it a relief and adistraction. Two maskers bedizened in violet and gold whizzed past melike a flash, one of them yelling a stale jest concerning lannamorata--a jest I scarcely heard, and certainly had no heart or witto reply to. A fair woman I knew leaned out of a gayly draped balconyand dropped a bunch of roses at my feet; out of courtesy I stooped topick them up, and then raising my hat I saluted the dark-eyed donor, but a few paces on I gave them away to a ragged child. Of all flowersthat bloom, they were, and still are, the most insupportable to me. What is it the English poet Swinburne says--

 "I shall never be friends again with roses!"

My wife wore them always: even on that night when I had seen herclasped in Guido's arms, a red rose on her breast had been crushed inthat embrace--a rose whose withered leaves I still possess. In theforest solitude where I now dwell there are no roses--and I am glad!The trees are too high, the tangle of bramble and coarse brushwood toodense--nothing grows here but a few herbs and field flowers--weedsunfit for wearing by fine ladies, yet to my taste infinitely sweeterthan all the tenderly tinted cups of fragrance, whose colors and odorsare spoiled to me forever. I am unjust, say you? the roses are innocentof evil? True enough, but their perfume awakens memory, and--I strivealways to forget!

I reached my hotel that evening to find that I was an hour late fordinner, an unusual circumstance, which had caused Vincenzo somedisquietude, as was evident from the relieved expression of his facewhen I entered. For some days the honest fellow had watched me withanxiety; my abstracted moods, the long solitary walks I was in thehabit of taking, the evenings I passed in my room writing, with thedoors locked--all this behavior on my part exercised his patience, Ihave no doubt, to the utmost limit, and I could see he had much ado toobserve his usual discretion and tact, and refrain from askingquestions. On this particular occasion I dined very hastily, for I hadpromised to join my wife and two of her lady friends at the theaterthat night. 

When I arrived there, she was already seated in her box, lookingradiantly beautiful. She was attired in some soft, sheeny, clingingprimrose stuff, and the brigand's jewels I had given her throughGuido's hands, flashed brilliantly on her uncovered neck and arms. Shegreeted me with her usual child-like enthusiasm as I entered, bearingthe customary offering--a costly bouquet, set in a holder ofmother-of-pearl studded with turquois, for her acceptance. I bowed toher lady friends, both of whom I knew, and then stood beside herwatching the stage. The comedietta played there was the airiesttrifle--it turned on the old worn-out story--a young wife, an aged, doting husband, and a lover whose principles were, of course, of the"noblest" type. The husband was fooled (naturally), and the chiefamusement of the piece appeared to consist in his being shut out of hisown house in dressing-gown and slippers during a pelting storm of rain, while his spouse (who was particularly specified as "pure") enjoyed aluxurious supper with her highly moral and virtuous admirer. My wifelaughed delightedly at the poor jokes and the stale epigrams, andspecially applauded the actress who successfully supported the chiefrole. This actress, by the way, was a saucy, brazen-faced jade, who hada trick of flashing her black eyes, tossing her head, and heaving herample bosom tumultuously whenever she hissed out the words Vecchiacciomaladetto [Footnote: Accursed, villainous old monster. ] at herdiscomfited husband, which had an immense effect on the audience--anaudience which entirely sympathized with her, though she wasindubitably in the wrong. I watched Nina in some derision as she noddedher fair head and beat time to the music with her painted fan. I bentover her. 

"The play pleases you?" I asked, in a low tone. 

"Yes, indeed!" she answered, with a laughing light in her eyes. "Thehusband is so droll! It is all very amusing. "

"The husband is always droll!" I remarked, smiling coldly. "It is not atemptation to marry when one knows that as a husband one must alwayslook ridiculous. "

She glanced up at me. 

"Cesare! You surely are not vexed? Of course it is only in plays thatit happens so!"

"Plays, cara mia, are often nothing but the reflex of real life, " Isaid. "But let us hope there are exceptions, and that all husbands arenot fools. "

She smiled expressively and sweetly, toyed with the flowers I had givenher, and turned her eyes again to the stage. I said no more, and was asomewhat moody companion for the rest of the evening. As we all leftthe theater one of the ladies who had accompanied Nina said lightly:

"You seem dull and out of spirits, conte?"

I forced a smile. 

"Not I, signora! Surely you do not find me guilty of such ungallantry?Were I dull in YOUR company I should prove myself the most ungratefulof my sex. "

She sighed somewhat impatiently. She was very young and very lovely, and, as far as I knew, innocent, and of a more thoughtful and poeticaltemperament than most women. 

"That is the mere language of compliment, " she said, looking straightlyat me with her clear, candid eyes. "You are a true courtier! Yet oftenI think your courtesy is reluctant. "

I looked at her in some surprise. 

"Reluctant? Signora, pardon me if I do not understand!"

"I mean, " she continued, still regarding me steadily, though a faintblush warmed the clear pallor of her delicate complexion, "that you donot really like us women; you say pretty things to us, and you try tobe amiable in our company, but you are in truth averse to our ways--youare sceptical--you think we are all hypocrites. "

I laughed a little coldly. 

"Really, signora, your words place me in a very awkward position. WereI to tell you my real sentiments--"

She interrupted me with a touch of her fan on my arm, and smiledgravely. 

"You would say, 'Yes, you are right, signora. I never see one of yoursex without suspecting treachery. ' Ah, Signor Conte, we women areindeed full of faults, but nothing can blind our instinct!" She paused, and her brilliant eyes softened as she added gently, "I pray yourmarriage may be a very happy one. "

I was silent. I was not even courteous enough to thank her for thewish. I was half angered that this girl should have been able to probemy thoughts so quickly and unerringly. Was I so bad an actor after all?I glanced down at her as she leaned lightly on my arm. 

"Marriage is a mere comedietta, " I said, abruptly and harshly. "We haveseen it acted to-night. In a few days I shall play the part of thechief buffoon--in other words, the husband. "

And I laughed. My young companion looked startled, almost frightened, and over her fair face there flitted an expression of something likeaversion. I did not care--why should I?--and there was no time for morewords between us, for we had reached the outer vestibule of the theater. 

My wife's carriage was drawn up at the entrance--my wife herself wasstepping into it. I assisted her, and also her two friends, and thenstood with uncovered head at the door wishing them all the "felicissimanotte. " Nina put her tiny jeweled hand through the carriage window--Istooped and kissed it lightly. Drawing it back quickly, she selected awhite gardenia from her bouquet and gave it to me with a bewitchingsmile. 

Then the glittering equipage dashed away with a whirl and clatter ofprancing hoofs and rapid wheels, and I stood alone under the wideportico of the theater--alone, amid the pressing throngs of the peoplewho were still coming out of the house--holding the strongly scentedgardenia in my hand as vaguely as a fevered man who finds a strangeflower in one of his sick dreams. 

After a minute or two I suddenly recollected myself, and throwing theblossom on the ground, I crushed it savagely beneath my heel--thepenetrating odor rose from its slain petals as though a vessel ofincense had been emptied at my feet. There was a nauseating influencein it; where had I inhaled that subtle perfume last? Iremembered--Guido Ferrari had worn one of those flowers in his coat atmy banquet--it had been still in his buttonhole when I killed him!

I strode onward and homeward; the streets were full of mirth and music, but I heeded none of it. I felt, rather than saw, the quiet sky bendingabove me dotted with its countless millions of luminous worlds; I wasfaintly conscious of the soft plash of murmuring waves mingling withthe dulcet chords of deftly played mandolins echoing from somewheredown by the shore; but my soul was, as it were, benumbed--my mind, always on the alert, was for once utterly tired out--my very limbsached, and when I at last flung myself on my bed, exhausted, my eyesclosed instantly, and I slept the heavy, motionless sleep of a manweary unto death. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

"Tout le monde vient a celui qui sait attendre. " So wrote the greatNapoleon. The virtue of the aphorism consists in the little words 'quisait'. All the world comes to him who KNOWS HOW to wait, _I_ knew this, and I had waited, and my world--a world of vengeance--came to me atlast. 

The slow-revolving wheel of Time brought me to the day before mystrange wedding--the eve of my remarriage with my own wife! All thepreparations were made--nothing was left undone that could add to thesplendor of the occasion. For though the nuptial ceremony was to besomewhat quiet and private in character, and the marriage breakfast wasto include only a few of our more intimate acquaintances, theproceedings were by no means to terminate tamely. The romance of theseremarkable espousals was not to find its conclusion in bathos. No; thebloom and aroma of the interesting event were to be enjoyed in theevening, when a grand supper and ball, given by me, the happy andmuch-to-be-envied bridegroom, was to take place in the hotel which Ihad made my residence for so long. No expense was spared for this, thelast entertainment offered by me in my brilliant career as a successfulCount Cesare Oliva. After it, the dark curtain would fall on theplayed-out drama, never to rise again. 

Everything that art, taste, and royal luxury could suggest was includedin the arrangements for this brilliant ball, to which a hundred andfifty guests had been invited, not one of whom had refused to attend. 

And now--now, in the afternoon of this, the last of my self-imposedprobation--I sat alone with my fair wife in the drawing-room of theVilla Romani, conversing lightly on various subjects connected with thefestivities of the coming morrow. The long windows were open--the warmspring sunlight lay like a filmy veil of woven gold on the tender greenof the young grass, birds sung for joy and flitted from branch tobranch, now poising hoveringly above their nests, now soaring with allthe luxury of perfect liberty into the high heaven of cloudlessblue--the great creamy buds of the magnolia looked ready to burst intowide and splendid flower between their large, darkly shining leaves, the odor of violets and primroses floated on every delicious breath ofair, and round the wide veranda the climbing white china roses hadalready unfurled their little crumpled rosette-like blossoms to thebalmy wind. It was spring in Southern Italy--spring in the land where, above all other lands, spring is lovely--sudden and brilliant in itsbeauty as might be the smile of a happy angel. Gran Dio!--talk ofangels! Had I not a veritable angel for my companion at that moment?What fair being, even in Mohammed's Paradise of Houris, could outshinesuch charms as those which it was my proud privilege to gaze uponwithout rebuke--dark eyes, rippling golden hair, a dazzling and perfectface, a form to tempt the virtue of a Galahad, and lips that an emperormight long to touch--in vain? Well, no!--not altogether in vain: if hisimperial majesty could offer a bribe large enough--let us say a diamondthe size of a pigeon's egg--he might possibly purchase one, nay!--perhaps two kisses from that seductive red mouth, sweeter thanthe ripest strawberry. I glanced at her furtively from time to timewhen she was not aware of my gaze; and glad was I of the shelteringprotection of the dark glasses I wore, for I knew and felt that therewas a terrible look in my eyes--the look of a half-famished tiger readyto spring on some long-desired piece of prey. She herself wasexceptionally bright and cheerful; with her riante features and agilemovements, she reminded me of some tropical bird of gorgeous plumageswaying to and fro on a branch of equally gorgeous blossom. 

"You are like a prince in a fairy tale, Cesare, " she said, with alittle delighted laugh; "everything you do is superbly done! Howpleasant it is to be so rich--there is nothing better in all the world. "

"Except love!" I returned, with a grim attempt to be sentimental. 

Her large eyes softened like the pleading eyes of a tame fawn. 

"Ay, yes!" and she smiled with expressive tenderness, "except love. Butwhen one has both love and wealth, what a paradise life can be!"

"So great a paradise, " I assented, "that it is hardly worth whiletrying to get into heaven at all! Will you make earth a heaven for me, Nina mia, or will you only love me as much--or as little--as you lovedyour late husband?"

She shrugged her shoulders and pouted like a spoilt child. 

"Why are you so fond of talking about my late husband, Cesare?" sheasked, peevishly; "I am so tired of his name! Besides, one does notalways care to be reminded of dead people--and he died so horribly too!I have often told you that I did not love him at all. I liked him alittle, and I was quite ill when that dreadful monk, who looked like aghost himself, came and told me he was dead. Fancy hearing such a pieceof news suddenly, while I was actually at luncheon with Gui--SignoreFerrari! We were both shocked, of course, but I did not break my heartover it. Now I really DO love YOU--"

I drew nearer to her on the couch where she sat, and put one arm roundher. 

"You really DO?" I asked, in a half-incredulous tone; "you are quitesure?"

She laughed and nestled her head on my shoulder. 

"I am quite sure! How many times have you asked me that absurdquestion? What can I say, what can I do--to make you believe me?"

"Nothing, " I answered, and answered truly, for certainly nothing shecould say or do would make me believe her for a moment. "But HOW do youlove me--for myself or for my wealth?"

She raised her head with a proud, graceful gesture. 

"For yourself, of course! Do you think mere wealth could ever win MYaffection? No, Cesare! I love you for your own sake--your own meritshave made you dear to me. "

I smiled bitterly. She did not see the smile. I slowly caressed hersilky hair. 

"For that sweet answer, carissima mia, you shall have your reward. Youcalled me a fairy prince just now--perhaps I merit that title more thanyou know. You remember the jewels I sent you before we ever met?"

"Remember them!" she exclaimed. "They are my choicest ornaments. Such aparure is fit for an empress. "

"And an empress of beauty wears them!" I said, lightly. "But they aremere trifles compared to other gems which I possess, and which I intendto offer for your acceptance. "

Her eyes glistened with avarice and expectancy. 

"Oh, let me see them!" she cried. "If they are lovelier than those Ialready have, they must be indeed magnificent! And are they all for me?"

"All for you!" I replied, drawing her closer, and playing with thesmall white hand on which the engagement-ring I had placed theresparkled so bravely. "All for my bride. A little hoard of brighttreasures; red rubies, ay--as red as blood-diamonds as brilliant as theglittering of crossed daggers--sapphires as blue as thelightning--pearls as pure as the little folded hands of a deadchild--opals as dazzlingly changeful as woman's love! Why do youstart?" for she had moved restlessly in my embrace. "Do I use badsimiles? Ah, cara mia, I am no poet! I can but speak of things as theyseem to my poor judgment. Yes, these precious things are for you, bellissima; you have nothing to do but to take them, and may they bringyou much joy!"

A momentary pallor had stolen over her face while I wasspeaking--speaking in my customary hard, harsh voice, which I strove torender even harder and harsher than usual--but she soon recovered fromwhatever passing emotion she may have felt, and gave herself up to thejoys of vanity and greed, the paramount passions of her nature. 

"I shall have the finest jewels in all Naples!" she laughed, delightedly. "How the women will envy me! But where are thesetreasures? May I see them now--immediately?"

"No, not quite immediately, " I replied, with a gentle derision thatescaped her observation. "To-morrow night--our marriage night--youshall have them. And I must also fulfill a promise I made to you. Youwish to see me for once without these, " and I touched my darkglasses--"is it not so?"

She raised her eyes, conveying into their lustrous depths an expressionof melting tenderness. 

"Yes, " she murmured; "I want to see you as you ARE!"

"I fear you will be disappointed, " I said, with some irony, "for myeyes are not pleasant to look at. "

"Never mind, " she returned, gayly. "I shall be satisfied if I see themjust once, and we need not have much light in the room, as the lightgives you pain. I would not be the cause of suffering to you--no, notfor all the world!"

"You are very amiable, " I answered, "more so than I deserve. I hope Imay prove worthy of your tenderness! But to return to the subject ofthe jewels. I wish you to see them for yourself and choose the bestamong them. Will you come with me to-morrow night? and I will show youwhere they are. "

She laughed sweetly. 

"Are you a miser, Cesare?--and have you some secret hiding-place fullof treasure like Aladdin?"

I smiled. 

"Perhaps I have, " I said. "There are exceptional cases in which onefears to trust even to a bank. Gems such as those I have to offer youare almost priceless, and it would be unwise, almost cruel to placesuch tempting toys within the reach of even an honest man. At any rate, if I have been something of a miser, it is for your sake, for your sakeI have personally guarded the treasure that is to be your bridal gift. You cannot blame me for this?"

In answer she threw her fair arms round my neck and kissed me. Striveagainst it as I would, I always shuddered at the touch of her lips--amingled sensation of loathing and longing possessed me that sickenedwhile it stung my soul. 

"Amor mio!" she murmured. "As if _I_ could blame you! You have nofaults in my estimation of you. You are good, brave and generous--thebest of men; there is only one thing I wish sometimes--" Here shepaused, and her brow knitted itself frowningly, while a puzzled, painedexpression came into her eyes. 

"And that one thing is?" I inquired. 

"That you did not remind me so often of Fabio, " she said, abruptly andhalf angrily. "Not when you speak of him, I do not mean that. What Imean is, that you have ways like his. Of course I know there is noactual resemblance, and yet--" She paused again, and again lookedtroubled. 

"Really, carina mia, " I remarked, lightly and jestingly, "you embarrassme profoundly! This fancy of yours is a most awkward one for me. At theconvent where I visited you, you became quite ill at the contemplationof my hand, which you declared was like the hand of your deceasedhusband; and now--this same foolish idea is returning, when I hoped ithad gone, with other morbid notions of an oversensitive brain, forever. Perhaps you think I am your late husband?"

And I laughed aloud! She trembled a little, but soon laughed also. 

"I know I am very absurd, " she said, "perhaps I am a little nervous andunstrung: I have had too much excitement lately. Tell me more about thejewels. When will you take me to see them?"

"To-morrow night, " I answered, "while the ball is going on, you and Iwill slip away together--we shall return again before any of ourfriends can miss us. You will come with me?"

"Of course I will, " she replied, readily, "only we must not be longabsent, because my maid will have to pack my wedding-dress, and thenthere will be the jewels also to put in my strong box. Let me see! Westay the night at the hotel, and leave for Rome and Paris the firstthing in the morning, do we not?"

"That is the arrangement, certainly, " I said, with a cold smile. 

"The little place where you have hidden your jewels, you droll Cesare, is quite near then?" she asked. 

"Quite near, " I assented, watching her closely. 

She laughed and clapped her hands. 

"Oh, I must have them, " she exclaimed. "It would be ridiculous to go toParis without them. But why will you not get them yourself, Cesare, andbring them here to me?"

"There are so many, " I returned, quietly, "and I do not know which youwould prefer. Some are more valuable than others. And it will give me aspecial satisfaction--one that I have long waited for--to see youmaking your own choice. "

She smiled half shyly, half cunningly. 

"Perhaps I will make no choice, " she whispered, "perhaps I will takethem ALL, Cesare. What will you say then?"

"That you are perfectly welcome to them, " I replied. 

She looked slightly surprised. 

"You are really too good to me, caro mio, " she said; "you spoil me. "

"CAN you be spoiled?" I asked, half jestingly. "Good women are likefine brilliants--the more richly they are set the more they shine. "

She stroked my hand caressingly. 

"No one ever made such pretty speeches to me as you do!" she murmured. 

"Not even Guido Ferrari?" I suggested, ironically. 

She drew herself up with an inimitably well-acted gesture of loftydisdain. 

"Guido Ferrari!" she exclaimed. "He dared not address me save with thegreatest respect! I was as a queen to him! It was only lately that hebegan to presume on the trust left him by my husband, and then hebecame too familiar--a mistake on his part, for which YOU punishedhim--as he deserved!"

I rose from my seat beside her. I could not answer for my own composurewhile sitting so close to the actual murderess of MY friend and HERlover. Had she forgotten her own "familiar" treatment of the deadman--the thousand nameless wiles and witcheries and tricks of hertrade, by which she had beguiled his soul and ruined his honor?

"I am glad you are satisfied with my action in that affair, " I said, coldly and steadily. "I myself regret the death of the unfortunateyoung man, and shall continue to do so. My nature, unhappily, is anoversensitive one, and is apt to be affected by trifles. But now, miabella, farewell until to-morrow--happy to-morrow!--when I shall callyou mine indeed!"

A warm flush tinted her cheeks; she came to me where I stood, andleaned against me. 

"Shall I not see you again till we meet in the church?" she inquired, with a becoming bashfulness. 

"No. I will leave you this last day of your brief widowhood alone. Itis not well that I should obtrude myself upon your thoughts or prayers. Stay!" and I caught her hand which toyed with the flower in mybuttonhole. "I see you still wear your former wedding-ring. May I takeit off?"

"Certainly. " And she smiled while I deftly drew off the plain goldcirclet I had placed there nearly four years since. 

"Will you let me keep it?"

"If you like. _I_ would rather not see it again. "

"You shall not, " I answered, as I slipped it into my pocket. "It willbe replaced by a new one to-morrow--one that I hope may be the symbolof more joy to you than this has been. "

And as her eyes turned to my face in all their melting, perfidiouslanguor, I conquered my hatred of her by a strong effort, and stoopedand kissed her. Had I yielded to my real impulses, I would have crushedher cruelly in my arms, and bruised her delicate flesh with the brutalferocity of caresses born of bitterest loathing, not love. But no signof my aversion escaped me--all she saw was her elderly looking admirer, with his calmly courteous demeanor, chill smile, and almost parentaltenderness; and she judged him merely as an influential gentleman ofgood position and unlimited income, who was about to make her one ofthe most envied women in all Italy. 

The fugitive resemblance she traced in me to her "dead" husband wascertainly attributed by her to a purely accidental likeness common tomany persons in this world, where every man, they say, has his double, and for that matter every woman also. Who does not remember thetouching surprise of Heinrich Heine when, on visiting thepicture-gallery of the Palazzo Durazzo in Genoa, he was brought face toface with the portrait, as he thought, of a dead woman he hadloved--"Maria la morte. " It mattered not to him that the picture wasvery old, that it had been painted by Giorgio Barbarelli centuriesbefore his "Maria" could have lived; he simply declares: "Il estvraiment d une ressemblance admirable, ressemblant jusqu'au silence dela mort!"

Such likenesses are common enough, and my wife, though my resemblanceto myself (!) troubled her a little, was very far from imagining thereal truth of the matter, as indeed how should she? What woman, believing and knowing, as far as anything can be known, her husband tobe dead and fast buried, is likely to accept even the idea of hispossible escape from the tomb! Not one!--else the disconsolate widowswould indeed have reason to be more inconsolable than they appear!

When I left her that morning I found Andrea Luziani waiting for me atmy hotel. He was seated in the outer entrance hall; I bade him followme into my private salon. He did so. Abashed at the magnificence of theapartment, he paused at the doorway, and stood, red cap in hand, hesitating, though with an amiable smile on his sunburned merrycountenance. 

"Come in, amico, " I said, with an inviting gesture, "and sit down. Allthis tawdry show of velvet and gilding must seem common to your eyes, that have rested so long on the sparkling pomp of the foaming waves, the glorious blue curtain of the sky, and the sheeny white of the sailsof the 'Laura' gleaming in the gold of the sun. Would I could live sucha life as yours, Andrea!--there is nothing better under the width ofheaven. "

The poetical temperament of the Sicilian was caught and fired by mywords. He at once forgot the splendid appurtenances of wealth and thecostly luxuries that surrounded him; he advanced without embarrassment, and seated himself on a velvet and gold chair with as much ease asthough it were a coil of rough rope on board the "Laura. "

"You say truly, eccellenza, " he said, with a gleam of his white teeththrough his jet-black mustache, while his warm southern eyes flashedfire, "there is nothing sweeter than the life of the marinaro. Andtruly there are many who say to me, 'Ah, ah! Andrea! buon amico, thetime comes when you will wed, and the home where the wife and childrensit will seem a better thing to you than the caprice of the wind andwaves. ' But I--see you!--I know otherwise. The woman I wed must lovethe sea; she must have the fearless eyes that can look God's storms inthe face--her tender words must ring out all the more clearly for thesound of the bubbling waves leaping against the 'Laura' when the windis high! And as for our children, " he paused and laughed, "per laSantissima Madonna! if the salt and iron of the ocean be not in theirblood, they will be no children of mine!"

I smiled at his enthusiasm, and pouring out some choice Montepulciano, bade him taste it. He did so with a keen appreciation of its flavor, such as many a so-called connoisseur of wines does not possess. 

"To your health, eccellenza!" he said, "and may you long enjoy yourlife!"

I thanked him; but in my heart I was far from echoing the kindly wish. 

"And are you going to fulfill the prophecy of your friends, Andrea?" Iasked. "Are you about to marry?"

He set down his glass only partly emptied, and smiled with an air ofmystery. 

"Ebbene! chi sa!" he replied, with a gay little shrug of his shoulders, yet with a sudden tenderness in his keen eyes that did not escape me. "There is a maiden--my mother loves her well--she is little and fair asCarmelo Neri's Teresa--so high, " and he laid his brown hand lightly onhis breast, "her head touches just here, " and he laughed. "She looks asfrail as a lily, but she is hardy as a sea-gull, and no one loves thewild waves more than she. Perhaps, in the month of the Madonna, whenthe white lilies bloom--perhaps!--one can never tell--the old song maybe sung for us--

 "Chi sa fervente amar Solo e felice!"

And humming the tune of the well-known love-ditty under his breath, heraised his glass of wine to his lips and drained it off with a relish, while his honest face beamed with gayety and pleasure. Always the samestory, I thought, moodily. Love, the tempter--Love, thedestroyer--Love, the curse! Was there NO escape possible from thisbewildering snare that thus caught and slew the souls of men?

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

He soon roused himself from his pleasant reverie, and drawing his chaircloser to mine, assumed an air of mystery. 

"And for your friend who is in trouble, " he said, in a confidentialtone, then paused and looked at me as though waiting permission toproceed. 

I nodded. 

"Go on, amico. What have you arranged?"

"Everything!" he announced, with an air of triumph. "All is smoothsailing. At six o'clock on Friday morning the 'Rondinella, ' that is thebrig I told you of, eccellenza, will weigh anchor for Civita Vecchia. Her captain, old Antonio Bardi, will wait ten minutes or even a quarterof an hour if necessary for the--the--"

"Passenger, " I supplemented. "Very amiable of him, but he will not needto delay his departure for a single instant beyond the appointed hour. Is he satisfied with the passage money?"

"Satisfied!" and Andrea swore a good-natured oath and laughed aloud. "By San Pietro! if he were not, he would deserve to drown like a dog onthe voyage! Though truly, it is always difficult to please him, hebeing old and cross and crusty. Yes; he is one of those men who haveseen so much of life that they are tired of it. Believe it! even thestormiest sea is a tame fish-pond to old Bardi. But he is satisfiedthis time, eccellenza, and his tongue and eyes are so tied up that Ishould not wonder if your friend found him to be both dumb and blindwhen he steps on board. "

"That is well, " I said, smiling. "I owe you many thanks, Andrea. Andyet there is one more favor I would ask of you. "

He saluted me with a light yet graceful gesture. 

"Eccellenza, anything I can do--command me. "

"It is a mere trifle, " I returned. "It is merely to take a small valisebelonging to my friend, and to place it on board the 'Rondmella' underthe care of the captain. Will you do this?"

"Most willingly. I will take it now if it so please you. "

"That is what I desire. Wait here and I will bring it to you. "

And leaving him for a minute or two, I went into my bedroom and tookfrom a cupboard I always kept locked a common rough leather bag, whichI had secretly packed myself, unknown to Vincenzo, with such things asI judged to be useful and necessary. Chief among them was a bulky rollof bank-notes. These amounted to nearly the whole of the remainder ofthe money I had placed in the bank at Palermo. I had withdrawn it bygradual degrees, leaving behind only a couple of thousand francs, forwhich I had no special need. I locked and strapped the valise; therewas no name on it and it was scarcely any weight to carry. I took it toAndrea, who swung it easily in his right hand and said, smilingly:

"Your friend is not wealthy, eccellenza, if this is all his luggage!"

"You are right, " I answered, with a slight sigh; "he is truly verypoor--beggared of everything that should be his through the treacheryof those whom he has benefited. " I paused; Andrea was listeningsympathetically. "That is why I have paid his passage-money, and havedone my best to aid him. "

"Ah! you have the good heart, eccellenza, " murmured the Sicilian, thoughtfully. "Would there were more like you! Often when fortune givesa kick to a man, nothing will suit but that all who see him must kickhim also. And thus the povero diavolo dies of so many kicks, often!This friend of yours is young, senza dubbio?"

"Yes, quite young, not yet thirty. "

"It is as if you were a father to him!" exclaimed Andrea, enthusiastically. "I hope he may be truly grateful to you, eccellenza. "

"I hope so too, " I said, unable to resist a smile. "And now, amico, take this, " and I pressed a small sealed packet into his hand. "It isfor yourself. Do not open it till you are at home with the mother youlove so well, and the little maiden you spoke of by your side. If itscontents please you, as I believe they will, think that _I_ am alsorendered happier by your happiness. "

His dark eyes sparkled with gratitude as I spoke, and setting thevalise he held down on the ground, he stretched out his hand halftimidly, half frankly. I shook it warmly and bade him farewell. 

"Per Bacco!" he said, with a sort of shamefaced eagerness, "the verydevil must have caught my tongue in his fingers! There is something Iought to say to you, eccellenza, but for my life I cannot find theright words. I must thank you better when I see you next. "

"Yes, " I answered, dreamily and somewhat wearily, "when you see menext, Andrea, you shall thank me if you will; but believe me, I need nothanks. "

And thus we parted, never to meet again--he to the strong glad lifethat is born of the wind and sea, and I to--. But let me notanticipate. Step by step through the labyrinths of memory let me goover the old ground watered with blood and tears, not missing one sharpstone of detail on the drear pathway leading to the bitter end. 

That same evening I had an interview with Vincenzo. He was melancholyand taciturn--a mood which was the result of an announcement I hadpreviously made to him--namely, that his services would not be requiredduring my wedding-trip. He had hoped to accompany me and to occupy theposition of courier, valet, major-domo, and generally confidentialattendant--a hope which had partially soothed the vexation he hadevidently felt at the notion of my marrying at all. 

His plans were now frustrated, and if ever the good-natured fellowcould be ill-tempered, he was assuredly so on this occasion. He stoodbefore me with his usual respectful air, but he avoided my glance, andkept his eyes studiously fixed on the pattern of the carpet. Iaddressed him with an air of gayety. 

"Ebbene, Vincenzo! Joy comes at last, you see, even to me! To-morrow Ishall wed the Countess Romani--the loveliest and perhaps the richestwoman in Naples!"

"I know it, eccellenza. "

This with the same obstinately fixed countenance and downward look. 

"You are not very pleased, I think, at the prospect of my happiness?" Iasked, banteringly. 

He glanced up for an instant, then as quickly down again. 

"If one could be sure that the illustrissimo eccellenza was indeedhappy, that would be a good thing, " he answered, dubiously. 

"And are you not sure?"

He paused, then replied firmly:

"No; the eccellenza does not look happy. No, no, davvero! He has theair of being sorrowful and ill, both together. "

I shrugged my shoulders indifferently. 

"You mistake me, Vincenzo. I am well--very well--and happy! Gran Dio!who could be happier? But what of my health or happiness?--they arenothing to me, and should be less to you. Listen; I have something Iwish you to do for me. "

He gave me a sidelong and half-expectant glance. I went on:

"To-morrow evening I want you to go to Avellino. "

He was utterly astonished. 

"To Avellino!" he murmured under his breath, "to Avellino!"

"Yes, to Avellino, " I repeated, somewhat impatiently. "Is thereanything so surprising in that? You will take a letter from me to theSignora Monti. Look you, Vincenzo, you have been faithful and obedientso far, I expect implicit fidelity and obedience still. You will not beneeded here to-morrow after the marriage ball has once begun; you cantake the nine o'clock train to Avellino, and--understand me--you willremain there till you receive further news from me. You will not haveto wait long, and in the mean time, " here I smiled, "you can make loveto Lilla. "

Vincenzo did not return the smile. 

"But--but, " he stammered, sorely perplexed--"if I go to Avellino Icannot wait upon the eccellenza. There is the portmanteau to pack--andwho will see to the luggage when you leave on Friday morning for Rome?And--and--I had thought to see you to the station--" He stopped, hisvexation was too great to allow him to proceed. 

I laughed gently. 

"How many more trifles can you think of, my friend, in opposition to mywishes? As for the portmanteau, you can pack it this very day if you soplease--then it will be in readiness. The rest of your duties can foronce be performed by others. It is not only important, but imperativethat you should go to Avellino on my errand. I want you to take thiswith you, " and I tapped a small square iron box, heavily made andstrongly padlocked, which stood an the table near me. 

He glanced at the box, but still hesitated, and the gloom on hiscountenance deepened. I grew a little annoyed. 

"What is the matter with you?" I said at last with some sternness. "Youhave something on your mind--speak out!"

The fear of my wrath startled him. He looked up with a bewildered painin his eyes, and spoke, his mellow Tuscan voice vibrating with his owneloquent entreaty. 

"Eccellenza!" he exclaimed, eagerly, "you must forgive me--yes, forgiveyour poor servant who seems too bold, and who yet is true to you--yes, indeed, so true!--and who would go with you to death if there wereneed! I am not blind, I can see your sufferings, for you do suffer, 'lustrissimo, though you hide it well. Often have I watched you whenyou have not known it. I feel that you have what we call a wound in theheart, bleeding, bleeding always. Such a thing means death often, asmuch as a straight shot in battle. Let me watch over you, eccellenza;let me stay with you! I have learned to love you! Ah, mio signor, " andhe drew nearer and caught my hand timidly, "you do not know--how shouldyou?--the look that is in your face sometimes, the look of one who isstunned by a hard blow. I have said to myself 'That look will kill meif I see it often. ' And your love for this great lady, whom you willwed to-morrow, has not lightened your soul as love should lighten it. No! you are even sadder than before, and the look I speak of comes everagain and again. Yes, I have watched you, and lately I have seen youwriting, writing far into the night, when you should have slept. Ah, signor! you are angry, and I know I should not have spoken; but tellme, how can I look at Lilla and be happy when I feel that you are aloneand sad?"

I stopped the flood of his eloquence by a mute gesture and withdrew myhand from his clasp. 

"I am not angry, " I said, with quiet steadiness, and yet with somethingof coldness, though my whole nature, always highly sensitive, wasdeeply stirred by the rapid, unstudied expressions of affection thatmelted so warmly from his lips in the liquid music of the mellow Tuscantongue. "No, I am not angry, but I am sorry to have been the object ofso much solicitude on your part. Your pity is misplaced, Vincenzo, itis indeed! Pity an emperor clad in purples and seated on a throne ofpure gold, but do not pity ME! I tell you that, to-morrow, yes, to-morrow, I shall obtain all that I have ever sought--my greatestdesire will be fulfilled. Believe it. No man has ever been sothoroughly satiated with--satisfaction--as I shall be!"

Then seeing him look still sad and incredulous, I clapped my hand onhis shoulder and smiled. 

"Come, come, amico, wear a merrier face for my bridal day, or you willnot deserve to wed Lilla. I thank you from my heart, " and I spoke moregravely, "for your well meant care and kindness, but I assure you thereis nothing wrong with me. I am well--perfectly well--and happy. It isunderstood that you go to Avellino to-morrow evening?"

Vincenzo sighed, but was passive. 

"It must be as the eccellenza pleases, " he murmured, resignedly. 

"That is well, " I answered, good-humoredly; "and as you know mypleasure, take care that nothing interferes with your departure. And--one word more--you must cease to watch me. Plainly speaking, I donot choose to be under your surveillance. Nay--I am not offended, farfrom it, fidelity and devotion are excellent virtues, but in thepresent case I prefer obedience--strict, implicit obedience. Whatever Imay do, whether I sleep or wake, walk or sit still--attend to YOURduties and pay no heed to MY actions. So will you best serve me--youunderstand?"

"Si, signor!" and the poor fellow sighed again, and reddened with hisown inward confusion. "You will pardon me, eccellenza, for my freedomof speech? I feel I have done wrong--"

"I pardon you for what in this world is never pardoned--excess oflove, " I answered, gently. "Knowing you love me, I ask you to obey mein my present wishes, and thus we shall always be friends. "

His face brightened at these last words, and his thoughts turned in anew direction. He glanced at the iron box I had before pointed out tohim. 

"That is to go to Avellino, eccellenza?" he asked, with more alacritythan he had yet shown. 

"Yes, " I answered. "You will place it in the hands of the good SignoraMonti, for whom I have a great respect. She will take care of ittill--I return. "

"Your commands shall be obeyed, signor, " he said, rapidly, as thougheager to atone for his past hesitation. "After all, " and he smiled, "itwill be pleasant to see Lilla; she will be interested, too, to hear theaccount of the eccellenza's marriage. "

And somewhat consoled by the prospect of the entertainment hisunlooked-for visit would give to the charming little maiden of hischoice, he left me, and shortly afterward I heard him humming a popularlove-song softly under his breath, while he busied himself in packingmy portmanteau for the honeymoon trip--a portmanteau destined never tobe used or opened by its owner. 

That night, contrary to my usual habit, I lingered long over my dinner;at its close I poured out a full glass of fine Lacrima Cristi, andsecretly mixing with it a dose of a tasteless but powerful opiate, Icalled my valet and bade him drink it and wish me joy. He did soreadily, draining the contents to the last drop. It was a tempestuousnight; there was a high wind, broken through by heavy sweeping gusts ofrain. Vincenzo cleared the dinner-table, yawning visibly as he did so, then taking my out-door paletot on his arm, he went to his bedroom, asmall one adjoining mine, for the purpose of brushing it, according tohis customary method. I opened a book, and pretending to be absorbed inits contents, I waited patiently for about half an hour. 

At the expiration of that time I stole softly to his door and lookedin. It was as I had expected; overcome by the sudden and heavy actionof the opiate, he had thrown himself on his bed, and was slumberingprofoundly, the unbrushed overcoat by his side. Poor fellow! I smiledas I watched him; the faithful dog was chained, and could not follow mysteps for that night at least. 

I left him thus, and wrapping myself in a thick Almaviva that muffledme almost to the eyes, I hurried out, fortunately meeting no one on myway--out into the storm and darkness, toward the Campo Santo, the abodeof the all-wise though speechless dead. I had work to do there--workthat must be done. I knew that if I had not taken the precaution ofdrugging my too devoted servitor, he might, despite his protestations, have been tempted to track me whither I went. As it was, I felt myselfsafe, for four hours must pass, I knew, before Vincenzo could awakefrom his lethargy. And I was absent for some time. 

Though I performed my task as quickly as might be, it took me longerthan I thought, and filled me with more loathing and reluctance than Ihad deemed possible. It was a grewsome, ghastly piece of work--a workof preparation--and when I had finished it entirely to my satisfaction, I felt as though the bony fingers of death itself had been plunged intomy very marrow. I shivered with cold, my limbs would scarce bear meupright, and my teeth chattered as though I were seized by strong ague. But the fixity of my purpose strengthened me till all was done--tillthe stage was set for the last scene of the tragedy. Or comedy? Whatyou will! I know that in the world nowadays you make a husband'sdishonor more of a whispered jest than anything else--you and yourheavy machinery of the law. But to me--I am so strangelyconstituted--dishonor is a bitterer evil than death. If all those whoare deceived and betrayed felt thus, then justice would need to becomemore just. It is fortunate--for the lawyers--that we are not allhonorable men!

When I returned from my dreary walk in the driving storm I foundVincenzo still fast asleep. I was glad of this, for had he seen me inthe plight I was, he would have had good reason to be alarmedconcerning both my physical and mental condition. Perceiving myself inthe glass, I recoiled as from an image of horror. I saw a man withhaunted, hungry eyes gleaming out from under a mass of disordered whitehair, his pale, haggard face set and stern as the face of a mercilessinquisitor of old Spain, his dark cloak dripping with glitteringraindrops, his hands and nails stained as though he had dug them intothe black earth, his boots heavy with mire and clay, his whole aspectthat of one who had been engaged in some abhorrent deed, too repulsiveto be named. I stared at my own reflection thus and shuddered; then Ilaughed softly with a sort of fierce enjoyment. Quickly I threw off allmy soiled habiliments, and locked them out of sight, and arrayingmyself in dressing-gown and slippers, I glanced at the time. It washalf-past one--already the morning of my bridal. I had been absentthree hours and a half. I went into my salon and remained therewriting. A few minutes after two o'clock had struck the door openednoiselessly, and Vincenzo, looking still very sleepy, appeared with anexpression of inquiring anxiety. He smiled drowsily, and seemedrelieved to see me sitting quietly in my accustomed place at thewriting-table. I surveyed him with an air of affected surprise. 

"Ebbene, Vincenzo! What has become of you all this while?"

"Eccellenza, " he stammered, "it was the Lacrima; I am not used to wine!I have been asleep. "

I laughed, pretended to stifle a yawn on my own account, and rose frommy easy-chair. 

"Veramente, " I said, lightly, "so have I, very nearly! And if I wouldappear as a gay bridegroom, it is time I went to bed. Buona notte. "

"Buona notte, signor. "

And we severally retired to rest, he satisfied that I had been in myown room all the evening, and I, thinking with a savage joy at my heartof what I had prepared out there in the darkness, with no witnesses ofmy work save the whirling wind and rain. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

My marriage morning dawned bright and clear, though the high wind ofthe past night still prevailed and sent the white clouds scuddingrapidly, like ships running a race, across the blue fairness of thesky. The air was strong, fresh, and exhilarating, and the crowds thatswarmed into the Piazza del Popolo, and the Toledo, eager to begin theriot and fun of Giovedi Grasso, were one and all in the highest goodhumor. As the hours advanced, many little knots of people hurriedtoward the cathedral, anxious, if possible, to secure places in or nearthe Chapel of San Gennaro, in order to see to advantage the brilliantcostumes of the few distinguished persons who had been invited towitness my wedding. The ceremony was fixed to take place at eleven, andat a little before half past ten I entered my carriage, in company withthe Duke di Marina as best man, and drove to the scene of action. Cladin garments of admirable cut and fit, with well-brushed hair and beard, and wearing a demeanor of skillfully mingled gravity and gayety, I borebut little resemblance to the haggard, ferocious creature who had facedme in the mirror a few hours previously. 

A strange and secret mirth too possessed me, a sort of half-frenziedmerriment that threatened every now and then to break through the maskof dignified composure it was necessary for me to wear. There weremoments when I could have laughed, shrieked, and sung with the fury ofa drunken madman. As it was, I talked incessantly; my conversation wasflavored with bitter wit and pungent sarcasm, and once or twice myfriend the duke surveyed me with an air of wondering inquiry, as thoughhe thought my manner forced or unnatural. My coachman was compelled todrive rather slowly, owing to the pressing throngs that swarmed atevery corner and through every thoroughfare, while the yells of themasqueraders, the gambols of street clowns, the firing of toy guns, andthe sharp explosion of colored bladders, that were swung to and fro andtossed in the air by the merry populace, startled my spirited horsesfrequently, and caused them to leap and prance to a somewhat dangerousextent, thus attracting more than the customary attention to myequipage. As it drew up at last at the door of the chapel, I wassurprised to see what a number of spectators had collected there. Therewas a positive crowd of loungers, beggars, children, and middle-classpersons of all sorts, who beheld my arrival with the utmost interestand excitement. 

In accordance with my instructions a rich crimson carpet had been laiddown from the very edge of the pavement right into the church as far asthe altar; a silken awning had also been erected, under which bloomed aminiature avenue of palms and tropical flowers. All eyes were turnedupon me curiously as I stepped from my carriage and entered the chapel, side by side with the duke, and murmurs of my vast wealth andgenerosity were audibly whispered as I passed along. One old crone, hideously ugly, but with large, dark piercing eyes, the fading lamps ofa lost beauty, chuckled and mumbled as she craned her skinny throatforward to observe me more closely. "Ay, ay! The saints know he need berich and generous--pover'uomo to fill HER mouth. A little red cruelmouth always open, that swallows money like macaroni, and laughs at thesuffering poor! Ah! that is bad, bad! He need be rich to satisfy HER!"

The Duke di Marina caught these words and glanced quickly at me, but Iaffected not to have heard. Inside the chapel there were a great numberof people, but my own invited guests, not numbering more than twenty orthirty, were seated in the space apportioned to them near the altar, which was divided from the mere sight-seers by means of a silken ropethat crossed the aisle. I exchanged greetings with most of thesepersons, and in return received their congratulations; then I walkedwith a firm deliberate step up to the high altar and there waited. Themagnificent paintings on the wall round me seemed endowed withmysterious life--the grand heads of saints and martyrs were turned uponme as though they demanded--"MUST thou do this thing? Hast thou noforgiveness?"

And ever my stern answer, "Nay; if hereafter I am tortured in eternalflame for all ages, yet now--now while I live, I will be avenged!"

A bleeding Christ suspended on His cross gazed at me reproachfully withlong-enduring eyes of dreadful anguish--eyes that seemed to say, "Oh, erring man, that tormentest thyself with passing passions, shall notthine own end approach speedily?--and what comfort wilt thou have inthy last hour?"

And inwardly I answered, "None! No shred of consolation can ever againbe mine--no joy, save fulfilled revenge! And this I will possess thoughthe heavens should crack and the earth split asunder! For once awoman's treachery shall meet with punishment--for once such strangeuncommon justice shall be done!"

And my spirit wrapped itself again in somber meditative silence. Thesunlight fell gloriously through the stained windows--blue, gold, crimson, and violet shafts of dazzling radiance glittered in lustrousflickering patterns on the snowy whiteness of the marble altar, andslowly, softly, majestically, as though an angel stepped forward, thesound of music stole on the incense-laden air. The unseen organistplayed a sublime voluntary of Palestrina's, and the round harmoniousnotes came falling gently on one another like drops from a fountaintrickling on flowers. 

I thought of my last wedding-day, when I had stood in this very place, full of hope, intoxicated with love and joy, when Guido Ferrari hadbeen by my side, and had drunk in for the first time the poisoneddraught of temptation from the loveliness of my wife's face and form;when I, poor fool! would us soon have thought that God could lie, asthat either of these whom I adored could play me false. I drew thewedding-ring from my pocket and looked at it--it was sparklingly brightand appeared new. Yet it was old--it was the very same ring I had drawnoff my wife's finger the day before; it had only been burnished afreshby a skilled jeweler, and showed no more marks of wear than if it hadbeen bought that morning. 

The great bell of the cathedral boomed out eleven, and as the laststroke swung from the tower, the chapel doors were flung more widelyopen: then came the gentle rustle of trailing robes, and turning, Ibeheld my wife. She approached, leaning lightly on the arm of the oldChevalier Mancini, who, true to his creeds of gallantry, had acceptedwith alacrity the post of paternal protector to the bride on thisoccasion; and I could not well wonder at the universal admiration thatbroke in suppressed murmurs from all assembled, as this most fairmasterpiece of the devil's creation paced slowly and gracefully up theaisle. She wore a dress of clinging white velvet made with the greatestsimplicity--a lace veil, priceless in value and fine as gossamer, draped her from head to foot--the jewels I had given her flashed abouther like scintillating points of light, in her hair, at her waist, onher breast and uncovered arms. 

Being as she deemed herself, a widow, she had no bride-maids; her trainwas held up by a handsome boy clad in the purple and gold costume of asixteenth century page--he was the youngest son of the Duke di Marina. Two tiny girls of five and six years of age went before, strewing whiteroses and lilies, and stepping daintily backward as though inattendance on a queen; they looked like two fairies who had slipped outof a midnight dream, in their little loose gowns of gold-colored plush, with wreaths of meadow daffodils on their tumbled curly hair. They hadbeen well trained by Nina herself, for on arrival at the altar theystood demurely, one on each side of her, the pretty page occupying hisplace behind, and still holding up the end of the velvet train with acharming air of hauteur and self-complacency. 

The whole cortege was a picture in its way, as Nina had meant it to be:she was fond of artistic effects. She smiled languishingly upon me asshe reached the altar, and sunk on her knees beside me in prayer. Themusic swelled forth with redoubled grandeur, the priests and acolytesappeared, the marriage service commenced. As I placed the ring on thebook I glanced furtively at the bride; her fair head was bentdemurely--she seemed absorbed in holy meditations. The priest havingperformed the ceremony of sprinkling it with holy water, I took itback, and set it for the second time on my wife's soft white littlehand--set it in accordance with the Catholic ritual, first on thethumb, then on the second finger, then on the third, and lastly on thefourth, where I left it in its old place, wondering as I did so, andmurmured, "In Nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, Amen!" whethershe recognized it as the one she had worn so long! But it was evidentshe did not; her calm was unbroken by even so much as a start ortremor; she had the self-possession of a perfectly satisfied, beautiful, vain, and utterly heartless woman. 

The actual ceremony of marriage was soon over; then followed the Mass, in which we, the newly-wedded pair, were compelled, in submission tothe rule of the Church, to receive the Sacrament. I shuddered as thevenerable priest gave me the Sacred Host. What had I to do with theinward purity and peace this memento of Christ is supposed to leave inour souls? Methought the Crucified Image in the chapel regarded meafresh with those pained eyes, and said, "Even so dost thou seal thineown damnation!" Yet SHE, the true murderess, the arch liar, receivedthe Sacrament with the face of a rapt angel--the very priest himselfseemed touched by those upraised, candid, glorious eyes, the sweet lipsso reverently parted, the absolute, reliable peace that rested on thatwhite brow, like an aureole round the head of a saint!

"If _I_ am damned, then is SHE thrice damned!" I said to myself, recklessly. "I dare say hell is wide enough for us to live apart whenwe get there. "

Thus I consoled my conscience, and turned resolutely away from thepainted appealing faces on the wall--the faces that in their variousexpressions of sorrow, resignation, pain, and death seemed now to beall pervaded by another look, that of astonishment--astonishment, so Ifancied, that such a man as I, and such a woman as she, should be foundin the width of the whole world, and should be permitted to kneel atGod's altar without being struck dead for their blasphemy!

Ah, good saints, well may you be astonished! Had you lived in our dayyou must have endured worse martyrdoms than the boiling oil or thewrenching rack! What you suffered was the mere physical pain of tornmuscles and scorching flesh, pain that at its utmost could not lastlong; but your souls were clothed with majesty and power, and wereglorious in the light of love, faith, hope, and charity with all men. WE have reversed the position YOU occupied! We have partly learned, andare still learning, how to take care of our dearly beloved bodies, howto nourish and clothe them and guard them from cold and disease; butour souls, good saints, the souls that with you were everything--THESEwe smirch, burn, and rack, torture and destroy--these we stamp upontill we crush out God's image therefrom--these we spit and jeer at, crucify and drown! THERE is the difference between you, the strong andwise of a fruitful olden time, and we, the miserable, puny weaklings ofa sterile modern age. 

Had you, sweet St. Dorothy, or fair child-saint Agnes, lived in thisday, you would have felt something sharper than the executioner'ssword; for being pure, you would have been dubbed the worst ofwomen--being prayerful, you would have been called hypocrites--beingfaithful, you would have been suspected of all vileness--being loving, you would have been mocked at more bitterly than the soldiers ofPontius Pilate mocked Christ; but you would have been FREE--free toindulge your own opinions, for ours is the age of liberty. Yet how muchbetter for you to have died than have lived till now!

Absorbed in strange, half-morose, half-speculative fancies, I scarcelyheard the close of the solemn service. I was roused by a delicate touchfrom my wife, and I woke, as it were, with a start, to hear thesonorous, crashing chords of the wedding-march in "Lohengrin"thundering through the air. All was over: my wife was MINE indeed--minemost thoroughly--mine by the exceptionally close-tied knot of a doublemarriage--mine to do as I would with "TILL DEATH SHOULD US PART. " Howlong, I gravely mused, how long before death could come to do us thisgreat service? And straightway I began counting, counting certainspaces of time that must elapse before--I was still absorbed in thismental arithmetic, even while I mechanically offered my arm to my wifeas we entered the vestry to sign our names in the marriage register. Sooccupied was I in my calculations that I nearly caught myself murmuringcertain numbers aloud. I checked this, and recalling my thoughts by astrong effort, I strove to appear interested and delighted, as I walkeddown the aisle with my beautiful bride, through the ranks of admiringand eager spectators. 

On reaching the outer doors of the chapel several flower-girls emptiedtheir full and fragrant baskets at our feet; and in return, I bade oneof my servants distribute a bag of coins I had brought for the purpose, knowing from former experience that it would be needed. To tread acrosssuch a heap of flowers required some care, many of the blossomsclinging to Nina's velvet train--we therefore moved forward slowly. 

Just as we had almost reached the carriage, a young girl, with largelaughing eyes set like flashing jewels in her soft oval face, threwdown in my path a cluster of red roses. A sudden fury of impotentpassion possessed me, and I crushed my heel instantly and savagely uponthe crimson blossoms, stamping upon them again and again so violentlythat my wife raised her delicate eyebrows in amazement, and thepressing people who stood round us, shrugged their shoulders, and gazedat one another with looks of utter bewilderment--while the girl who hadthrown them shrunk back in terror, her face paling as she murmured, "Santissima Madonna! mi fa paura!" I bit my lip with vexation, inwardlycursing the weakness of my own behavior. I laughed lightly in answer toNina's unspoken, half-alarmed inquiry. 

"It is nothing--a mere fancy of mine. I hate red roses! They look to melike human blood in flower!"

She shuddered slightly. 

"What a horrible idea! How can you think of such a thing?"

I made no response, but assisted her into the carriage with elaboratecare and courtesy; then entering it myself, we drove together back tothe hotel, where the wedding breakfast awaited us. 

This is always a feast of general uneasiness and embarrassmenteverywhere, even in the sunny, pleasure-loving south; every one is gladwhen it is over, and when the flowery, unmeaning speeches andexaggerated compliments are brought to a fitting and happy conclusion. Among my assembled guests, all of whom belonged to the best and mostdistinguished families in Naples, there was a pervading atmosphere ofundoubted chilliness: the women were dull, being rendered jealous ofthe bride's beauty and the richness of her white velvets and jewels;the men were constrained, and could scarcely force themselves into eventhe appearance of cordiality--they evidently thought that, with suchwealth as mine, I would have done much better to remain a bachelor. Intruth, Italians, and especially Neapolitans, are by no meansenthusiastic concerning the supposititious joys of marriage. They areapt to shake their heads, and to look upon it as a misfortune ratherthan a blessing. "L'altare e la tomba dell' amore, " is a very commonsaying with us, and very commonly believed. 

It was a relief to us all when we rose from the splendidly appointedtable, and separated for a few hours. We were to meet again at theball, which was fixed to commence at nine o'clock in the evening. Thecream of the event was to be tasted THEN--the final toasting of thebride was to take place THEN--THEN there would be music, mirth anddancing, and all the splendor of almost royal revelry. I escorted mywife with formal courtesy to a splendid apartment which had beenprepared for her, for she had, as she told me, many things to do--as, for instance, to take off her bridal robes, to study every detail ofher wondrous ball costume for the night, and to superintend her maid inthe packing of her trunks for the next day's journey. THE NEXT DAY! Ismiled grimly--I wondered how she would enjoy her trip! Then I kissedher hand with the most profound respect and left her to repose--torefresh and prepare herself for the brilliant festivity of the evening. 

Our marriage customs are not as coarse as those of some countries; abridegroom in Italy thinks it scarcely decent to persecute his bridewith either his presence or his caresses as soon as the Church has madeher his. On the contrary, if ardent, he restrains his ardor--heforbears to intrude, he strives to keep up the illusion, therose-colored light, or rather mist, of love as long as possible, and hehas a wise, instinctive dread of becoming overfamiliar; well knowingthat nothing kills romance so swiftly and surely as the bare bluntprose of close and constant proximity. And I, like other gentlemen ofmy rank and class, gave my twice-wedded wife her liberty--the lasthours of liberty she would ever know. I left her to busy herself withthe trifles she best loved--trifles of dress and personal adornment, for which many women barter away their soul's peace and honor, anddivest themselves of the last shred of right and honest principlemerely to outshine others of their own sex, and sow broadcastheart-burnings, petty envies, mean hatreds and contemptible spites, where, if they did but choose, there might be a widely differentharvest. 

It is easy to understand the feelings of Marie Stuart when she arrayedherself in her best garments for her execution: it was simply theheroism of supreme vanity, the desire to fascinate if possible the veryheadsman. One can understand any beautiful woman being as brave as she. Harder than death itself would it have seemed to her had she beencompelled to appear on the scaffold looking hideous. She was resolvedto make the most of her charms so long as life lasted. I thought ofthat sweet-lipped, luscious-smiling queen as I parted from my wife fora few brief hours: royal and deeply injured lady though she was, shemerited her fate, for she was treacherous--there can be no doubt ofthat. Yet most people reading her her story pity her--I know not why. It is strange that so much of the world's sympathy is wasted on falsewomen!

I strolled into one of the broad loggie of the hotel, from whence Icould see a portion of the Piazza del Popolo, and lighting a cigar, Ileisurely watched the frolics of the crowd. The customary foolingproper to the day was going on, and no detail of it seemed to pall onthe good-natured, easily amused folks who must have seen it all sooften before. Much laughter was being excited by the remarks of avender of quack medicines, who was talking with extreme volubility to anumber of gayly dressed girls and fishermen. I could not distinguishhis words, but I judged he was selling the "elixir of love, " from hisabsurd amatory gestures--an elixir compounded, no doubt, of a littleharmless eau sucre. 

Flags tossed on the breeze, trumpets brayed, drums beat; improvisatorestwanged their guitars and mandolins loudly to attract attention, andfailing in their efforts, swore at each other with the utmost jovialityand heartiness; flower-girls and lemonade-sellers made the air ringwith their conflicting cries: now and then a shower of chalky confettiflew out from adjacent windows, dusting with white powder the coats ofthe passers-by; clusters of flowers tied with favors of gay-coloredribbon were lavishly flung at the feet of bright-eyed peasant girls, who rejected or accepted them at pleasure, with light words of badinageor playful repartee; clowns danced and tumbled, dogs barked, churchbells clanged, and through all the waving width of color and movementcrept the miserable, shrinking forms of diseased and loathly beggarswhining for a soldo, and clad in rags that barely covered theirhalting, withered limbs. 

It was a scene to bewilder the brain and dazzle the eyes, and I wasjust turning away from it out of sheer fatigue, when a sudden cessationof movement in the swaying, whirling crowd, and a slight hush, causedme to look out once more. I perceived the cause of the momentarystillness--a funeral cortege appeared, moving at a slow and solemnpace; as it passed across the square, heads were uncovered, and womencrossed themselves devoutly. Like a black shadowy snake it coiledthrough the mass of shifting color and brilliance--another moment, andit was gone. The depressing effect of its appearance was sooneffaced--the merry crowds resumed their thousand and one freaks offolly, their shrieking, laughing and dancing, and all was as before. Why not?

The dead are soon forgotten; none knew that better than I! Leaning myarms lazily on the edge of the balcony, I finished smoking my cigar. That glimpse of death in the midst of life had filled me with a certainsatisfaction. Strangely enough, my thoughts began to busy themselveswith the old modes of torture that used to be legal, and that, afterall, were not so unjust when practiced upon persons professedly vile. For instance, the iron coffin of Lissa--that ingeniously contrived boxin which the criminal was bound fast hand and foot, and then was forcedto watch the huge lid descending slowly, slowly, slowly, half an inchat a time, till at last its ponderous weight crushed into a flat andmangled mass the writhing wretch within, who had for long agonizedhours watched death steadily approaching. Suppose that _I_ had such acoffin now! I stopped my train of reflection with a slight shudder. No, no; she whom I sought to punish was so lovely, such a softly colored, witching, gracious body, though tenanted by a wicked soul--she shouldkeep her beauty! I would not destroy that--I would be satisfied with myplan as already devised. 

I threw away the end of my smoked-out cigar and entered my own rooms. Calling Vincenzo, who was now resigned and even eager to go toAvellino, I gave him his final instructions, and placed in his chargethe iron cash-box, which, unknown to him, contained 12, 000 francs innotes and gold. This was the last good action I could do: it was asufficient sum to set him up as a well-to-do farmer and fruit-grower inAvellino with Lilla and her little dowry combined. He also carried asealed letter to Signora Monti, which I told him she was not to opentill a week had elapsed; this letter explained the contents of the boxand my wishes concerning it; it also asked the good woman to send tothe Villa Romani for Assunta and her helpless charge, poor oldparalyzed Giacomo, and to tend the latter as well as she could till hisdeath, which I knew could not be far off. 

I had thought of everything as far as possible, and I could alreadyforesee what a happy, peaceful home there would be in the littlemountain town guarded by the Monte Vergine. Lilla and Vincenzo wouldwed, I knew; Signora Monti and Assunta would console each other withtheir past memories and in the tending of Lilla's children; for somelittle time, perhaps, they would talk of me and wonder sorrowfullywhere I had gone; then gradually they would forget me, even as Idesired to be forgotten. 

Yes; I had done all I could for those who had never wronged me. I hadacquitted myself of my debt to Vincenzo for his affection and fidelity;the rest of my way was clear. I had no more to do save the ONE THING, the one deed which had clamored so long for accomplishment. Revenge, like a beckoning ghost, had led me on step by step for many weary daysand months, which to me had seemed cycles of suffering; but now itpaused--it faced me--and turning its blood-red eyes upon my soul said, "Strike!"

CHAPTER XXXV. 

The ball opened brilliantly. The rooms were magnificently decorated, and the soft luster of a thousand lamps shone on a scene of splendoralmost befitting the court of a king. Some of the stateliest nobles inall Italy were present, their breasts glittering with jeweled ordersand ribbons of honor; some of the loveliest women to be seen anywherein the world flitted across the polished floors, like poets' dreams ofthe gliding sylphs that haunt rivers and fountains by moonlight. 

But fairest where all were fair, peerless in the exuberance of hertriumphant vanity, and in the absolute faultlessness of her delicatecharms, was my wife--the bride of the day, the heroine of the night. Never had she looked so surpassingly beautiful, and I, even I, felt mypulse beat quicker, and the blood course more hotly through my veins, as I beheld her, radiant, victorious, and smiling--a veritable queen ofthe fairies, as dainty as a drop of dew, as piercing to the eye as aflash of light. Her dress was some wonderful mingling of misty lace, with the sheen of satin and glimmering showers of pearl; diamondsglittered on her bodice like sunlight on white foam; the brigand'sjewels flashed gloriously on her round white throat and in her tinyshell-like ears, while the masses of her gold hair were coiled to thetop of her small head and there caught by a priceless circlet ofrose-brilliants--brilliants that I well remembered--they had belongedto my mother. Yet more lustrous than the light of the gems she wore wasthe deep, ardent glory of her eyes, dark as night and luminous asstars; more delicate than the filmy robes that draped her was the pure, pearl-like whiteness of her neck, which was just sufficiently displayedto be graceful without suggesting immodesty. 

For Italian women do not uncover their bosoms for the casual inspectionof strangers, as is the custom of their English and German sisters;they know well enough that any lady venturing to wear a decollete dresswould find it impossible to obtain admittance to a court ball at thePalazzo Quirinale. She would be looked upon as one of a questionableclass, and no matter how high her rank and station, would run the riskof ejection from the doors, as on one occasion did unfortunately happento an English peeress, who, ignorant of Italian customs, went to anevening reception in Rome arrayed in a very low bodice with strapsinstead of sleeves. Her remonstrances were vain; she was politely butfirmly refused admittance, though told she might gain her point bychanging her costume, which I believe she wisely did. 

Some of the grandes dames present at the ball that night wore dressesthe like of which are seldom or never seen out of Italy--robes sownwith jewels, and thick with wondrous embroidery, such as have beenhanded down from generation to generation through hundreds of years. Asan example of this, the Duchess of Marina's cloth of gold train, stitched with small rubies and seed-pearls, had formerly belonged tothe family of Lorenzo de Medici. Such garments as these, when they arepart of the property of a great house, are worn only on particularoccasions, perhaps once in a year; and then they are laid carefully byand sedulously protected from dust and moths and damp, receiving asmuch attention as the priceless pictures and books of a famoushistorical mansion. Nothing ever designed by any great modern tailor ormilliner can hope to compete with the magnificent workmanship anddurable material of the festa dresses that are locked preciously awayin the old oaken coffers of the greatest Italian families--dresses thatare beyond valuation, because of the romances and tragedies attached tothem, and which, when worn, make all the costliest fripperies of to-daylook flimsy and paltry beside them, like the attempts of a servant todress as tastefully as her mistress. 

Such glitter of gold and silver, such scintillations from the burningeyes of jewels, such cloud-like wreaths of floating laces, such subtleodors of rare and exquisite perfume, all things that most keenly prickand stimulate the senses were round me in fullest force thisnight--this one dazzling, supreme and terrible night, that was destinedto burn into my brain like a seal of scorching fire. Yes; till I die, that night will remain with me as though it were a breathing, sentientthing; and after death, who knows whether it may not uplift itself insome tangible, awful shape, and confront me with its flashingmock-luster, and the black heart of its true meaning in its menacingeyes, to take its drear place by the side of my abandoned soul throughall eternity! I remember now how I shivered and started out of thebitter reverie into which I had fallen at the sound of my wife's low, laughing voice. 

"You must dance, Cesare, " she said, with a mischievous smile. "You areforgetting your duties. You should open the ball with me!"

I rose at once mechanically. 

"What dance is it?" I asked, forcing a smile. "I fear you will find mebut a clumsy partner. "

She pouted. 

"Oh, surely not! You are not going to disgrace me--you really must tryand dance properly just this once. It will look so stupid if you makeany mistake. The band was going to play a quadrille; I would not haveit, and told them to strike up the Hungarian waltz instead. But Iassure you I shall never forgive you if you waltz badly--nothing looksso awkward and absurd. "

I made no answer, but placed my arm round her waist and stood ready tobegin. I avoided looking at her as much as possible, for it was growingmore and more difficult with each moment that passed to hold themastery over myself. I was consumed between hate and love. Yes, love!--of an evil kind, I own, and in which there was no shred ofreverence--filled me with a sort of foolish fury, which mingled itselfwith another and manlier craving, namely, to proclaim her vileness thenand there before all her titled and admiring friends, and to leave hershamed in the dust of scorn, despised and abandoned. Yet I knew wellthat were I to speak out--to declare my history and hers before thatbrilliant crowd--I should be accounted mad, and that for a woman suchas she there existed no shame. 

The swinging measure of the slow Hungarian waltz, that most witching ofdances, danced perfectly only by those of the warm-blooded southerntemperament, now commenced. It was played pianissimo, and stole throughthe room like the fluttering breath of a soft sea wind. I had alwaysbeen an excellent waltzer, and my step had fitted in with that of Ninaas harmoniously as the two notes of a perfect chord. She found it so onthis occasion, and glanced up with a look of gratified surprise as Ibore her lightly with languorous, dreamlike ease of movement throughthe glittering ranks of our guests, who watched us admiringly as wecircled the room two or three times. 

Then--all present followed our lead, and in a couple of minutes theball-room was like a moving flower-garden in full bloom, rich withswaying colors and rainbow-like radiance; while the music, growingstronger, and swelling out in marked and even time, echoed forth likethe sound of clear-toned bells broken through by the singing of birds. My heart beat furiously, my brain reeled, my senses swam as I felt mywife's warm breath on my cheek; I clasped her waist more closely, Iheld her little gloved hand more firmly. She felt the double pressure, and, lifting her white eyelids fringed with those long dark lashes thatgave such a sleepy witchery to her eyes, her lips parted in a littlesmile. 

"At last you love me!" she whispered. 

"At last, at last, " I muttered, scarce knowing what I said. "Had I notloved you at first, bellissima, I should not have been to you what I amto-night. "

A low ripple of laughter was her response. 

"I knew it, " she murmured again, half breathlessly, as I drew her withswifter and more voluptuous motion into the vortex of the dancers. "Youtried to be cold, but I knew I could make you love me--yes, love mepassionately--and I was right. " Then with an outburst of triumphantvanity she added, "I believe you would die for me!"

I bent over her more closely. My hot quick breath moved the featherygold of her hair. 

"I HAVE died for you, " I said; "I have killed my old self for yoursake. "

Dancing still, encircled by my arms, and gliding along like a sea-nymphon moonlighted foam, she sighed restlessly. 

"Tell me what you mean, amor mio, " she asked, in the tenderest tone inthe world. 

Ah, God! that tender seductive cadence of her voice, how well I knewit!--how often had it lured away my strength, as the fabled siren'ssong had been wont to wreck the listening mariner. 

"I mean that you have changed me, sweetest!" I whispered, in fierce, hurried accents. "I have seemed old--for you to-night I will be youngagain--for you my chilled slow blood shall again be hot and quick aslava--for you my long-buried past shall rise in all its pristine vigor;for you I will be a lover, such as perhaps no woman ever had or everwill have again!"

She heard, and nestled closer to me in the dance. My words pleased her. Next to her worship of wealth her delight was to arouse the passions ofmen. She was very panther-like in her nature--her first tendency was todevour, her next to gambol with any animal she met, though her sleek, swift playfulness might mean death. She was by no means exceptional inthis; there are many women like her. 

As the music of the waltz grew slower and slower, dropping down to asweet and persuasive conclusion, I led my wife to her fauteuil, andresigned her to the care of a distinguished Roman prince who was hernext partner. Then, unobserved, I slipped out to make inquiriesconcerning Vincenzo. He had gone; one of the waiters at the hotel, afriend of his, had accompanied him and seen him into the train forAvellino. He had looked in at the ball-room before leaving, and hadwatched me stand up to dance with my wife, then "with tears in hiseyes"--so said the vivacious little waiter who had just returned fromthe station--he had started without daring to wish me good-bye. 

I heard this information of course with an apparent kindlyindifference, but in my heart I felt a sudden vacancy, a drear, strangeloneliness. With my faithful servant near me I had felt conscious ofthe presence of a friend, for friend he was in his own humble, unobtrusive fashion; but now I was alone--alone in a loneliness beyondall conceivable comparison--alone to do my work, without prevention ordetection. I felt, as it were, isolated from humanity, set apart withmy victim on some dim point of time, from which the rest of the worldreceded, where the searching eye of the Creator alone could behold me. Only she and I and God--these three were all that existed for me in theuniverse; between these three must justice be fulfilled. 

Musingly, with downcast eyes, I returned to the ball-room. At the doora young girl faced me--she was the only daughter of a great Neapolitanhouse. Dressed in pure white, as all such maidens are, with a crown ofsnow-drops on her dusky hair, and her dimpled face lighted withlaughter, she looked the very embodiment of early spring. She addressedme somewhat timidly, yet with all a child's frankness. 

"Is not this delightful? I feel as if I were in fairy-land! Do you knowthis is my first ball?"

I smiled wearily. 

"Ay, truly? And you are happy?"

"Oh, happiness is not the word--it is ecstasy! How I wish it could lastforever! And--is it not strange?--I did not know I was beautiful tillto-night. "

She said this with perfect simplicity, and a pleased smile radiated herfair features. I glanced at her with cold scrutiny. 

"Ah! and some one has told you so. "

She blushed and laughed a little consciously. 

"Yes; the great Prince de Majano. And he is too noble to say what isnot true, so I MUST be 'la piu bella donzella, ' as he said, must I not?"

I touched the snow-drops that she wore in a white cluster at her breast. 

"Look at your flowers, child, " I said, earnestly. "See how they beginto droop in this heated air. The poor things! How glad they would feelcould they again grow in the cool wet moss of the woodlands, wavingtheir little bells to the wholesome, fresh wind! Would they revive now, think you, for your great Prince de Majano if he told them they werefair? So with your life and heart, little one--pass them through thescorching fire of flattery, and their purity must wither even as thesefragile blossoms. And as for beauty--are you more beautiful than SHE?"

And I pointed slightly to my wife, who was at that moment courtesyingto her partner in the stately formality of the first quadrille. 

My young companion looked, and her clear eyes darkened enviously. 

"Ah, no, no! But if I wore such lace and satin and pearls, and had suchjewels, I might perhaps be more like her!"

I sighed bitterly. The poison had already entered this child's soul. Ispoke brusquely. 

"Pray that you may never be like her, " I said, with somber sternness, and not heeding her look of astonishment. "You are young--you cannotyet have thrown off religion. Well, when you go home to-night, andkneel beside your little bed, made holy by the cross above it and yourmother's blessing--pray--pray with all your strength that you may neverresemble in the smallest degree that exquisite woman yonder! So may yoube spared her fate. "

I paused, for the girl's eyes were dilated in extreme wonder and fear. I looked at her, and laughed abruptly and harshly. 

"I forgot, " I said; "the lady is my wife--I should have thought ofthat! I was speaking of--another whom you do not know. Pardon me! whenI am fatigued my memory wanders. Pay no attention to my foolishremarks. Enjoy yourself, my child, but do not believe all the prettyspeeches of the Prince de Majano. A rivederci!"

And smiling a forced smile I left her, and mingled with the crowd of myguests, greeting one here, another there, jesting lightly, payingunmeaning compliments to the women who expected them, and striving todistract my thoughts with the senseless laughter and foolish chatter ofthe glittering cluster of society butterflies, all the whiledesperately counting the tedious minutes, and wondering whether mypatience, so long on the rack, would last out its destined time. As Imade my way through the brilliant assemblage, Luziano Salustri, thepoet, greeted me with a grave smile. 

"I have had little time to congratulate you, conte, " he said, in thosemellifluous accents of his which were like his own improvised music, "but I assure you I do so with all my heart. Even in my most fantasticdreams I have never pictured a fairer heroine of a life's romance thanthe lady who is now the Countess Oliva. "

I silently bowed my thanks. 

"I am of a strange temperament, I suppose, " he resumed. "To-night thisravishing scene of beauty and splendor makes me sad at heart, I knownot why. It seems too brilliant, too dazzling. I would as soon go homeand compose a dirge as anything. "

I laughed satirically. 

"Why not do it?" I said. "You are not the first person who, beingpresent at a marriage, has, with perverse incongruity, meditated on afuneral!"

A wistful look came into his brilliant poetic eyes. 

"I have thought once or twice, " he remarked in a low tone, "of thatmisguided young man Ferrari. A pity, was it not, that the quarreloccurred between you?"

"A pity indeed!" I replied, brusquely. Then taking him by the arm Iturned him round so that he faced my wife, who was standing not faroff. "But look at the--the--ANGEL I have married! Is she not a faircause for a dispute even unto death? Fy on thee, Luziano!--why think ofFerrari? He is not the first man who has been killed for the sake of awoman, nor will he be the last!"

Salustri shrugged his shoulders, and was silent for a minute or two. Then he added with his own bright smile:

"Still, amico, it would have been much better if it had ended in coffeeand cognac. Myself, I would rather shoot a man with an epigram than aleaden bullet! By the do you remember our talking of Cain and Abel thatnight?"

"Perfectly. "

"I have wondered since, " he continued half merrily, half seriously, "whether the real cause of their quarrel has ever been rightly told. Ishould not be at all surprised if one of these days some savant doesnot discover a papyrus containing a missing page of Holy Writ, whichwill ascribe the reason of the first bloodshed to a love affair. Perhaps there were wood nymphs in those days, as we are assured therewere giants, and some dainty Dryad might have driven the first pair ofhuman brothers to desperation by her charms! What say you?"

"It is more than probable, " I answered, lightly. "Make a poem of it, Salustri; people will say you have improved on the Bible!"

And I left him with a gay gesture to join other groups, and to take mypart in the various dances which were now following quickly on oneanother. The supper was fixed to take place at midnight. At the firstopportunity I had, I looked at the time. Quarter to eleven!--my heartbeat quickly, the blood rushed to my temples and surged noisily in myears. The hour I had waited for so long and so eagerly had come! Atlast! at last!

 * * * * *

Slowly and with a hesitating step I approached my wife. She was restingafter her exertions in the dance, and reclined languidly in a lowvelvet chair, chatting gayly with that very Prince de Majano whosehoneyed compliments had partly spoiled the budding sweet nature of theyoungest girl in the room. Apologizing for interrupting theconversation, I lowered my voice to a persuasive tenderness as Iaddressed her. 

"Cara, sposina mia! permit me to remind you of your promise. "

What a radiant look she gave me!

"I am all impatience to fulfill it! Tell me when--and how?"

"Almost immediately. You know the private passage through which weentered the hotel this morning on our return from church?"

"Perfectly. "

"Well, meet me there in twenty minutes. We must avoid being observed aswe pass out. But, " and I touched her delicate dress, "you will wearsomething warmer than this?"

"I have a long sable cloak that will do, " she replied, brightly. "Weare not going far?"

"No, not far. "

"We shall return in time for supper, of course?"

I bent my head. 

"Naturally!"

Her eyes danced mirthfully. 

"How romantic it seems! A moonlight stroll with you will be charming!Who shall say you are not a sentimental bridegroom? Is there a brightmoon?"

"I believe so. "

"Cosa bellissima!" and she laughed sweetly. "I look forward to thetrip! In twenty minutes then I shall be with you at the place you name, Cesare; in the meanwhile the Marchese Gualdro claims me for thismazurka. "

And she turned with her bewitching grace of manner to the marchese, whoat that moment advanced with his courteous bow and fascinating smile, and I watched them as they glided forward together in the first figureof the elegant Polish dance, in which all lovely women look theirloveliest. 

Then, checking the curse that rose to my lips, I hurried away. Up to myown room I rushed with feverish haste, full of impatience to be rid ofthe disguise I had worn so long. 

Within a few minutes I stood before my mirror, transformed into my oldself as nearly as it was possible to be. I could not alter the snowywhiteness of my hair, but a few deft quick strokes of the razor soondivested me of the beard that had given me so elderly an aspect, andnothing remained but the mustache curling slightly up at the corners ofthe lip, as I had worn it in past days. I threw aside the dark glasses, and my eyes, densely brilliant, and fringed with the long lashes thathad always been their distinguishing feature, shone with all the lusterof strong and vigorous youth. I straightened myself up to my fullheight, I doubled my fist and felt it hard as iron; I laughed aloud inthe triumphant power of my strong manhood. I thought of the oldrag-dealing Jew--"You could kill anything easily. " Ay, so Icould!--even without the aid of the straight swift steel of theMilanese dagger which I now drew from its sheath and regardedsteadfastly, while I carefully felt the edge of the blade from hilt topoint. Should I take it with me? I hesitated. Yes! it might be needed. I slipped it safely and secretly into my vest. 

And now the proofs--the proofs! I had them all ready to my hand, andgathered them quickly together; first the things that had been buriedwith me--the gold chain on which hung the locket containing theportraits of my wife and child, the purse and card-case which Ninaherself had given me, the crucifix the monk had laid on my breast inthe coffin. The thought of that coffin moved me to a stern smile--thatsplintered, damp, and moldering wood must speak for itself by and by. Lastly I look the letters sent me by the Marquis D'Avencourt--thebeautiful, passionate love epistles she had written to Guido Ferrari inRome. 

Now, was that all? I thoroughly searched both my rooms, ransackingevery corner. I had destroyed everything that could give the smallestclew to my actions; I left nothing save furniture and small valuables, a respectable present enough in their way, to the landlord of the hotel. 

I glanced again at myself in the mirror. Yes; I was once more FabioRomani, in spite of my white hair; no one that had ever known meintimately could doubt my identity. I had changed my evening dress fora rough, every-day suit, and now over this I threw my long Almavivacloak, which draped me from head to foot. I kept its folds well upabout my mouth and chin, and pulled on a soft slouched hat, with thebrim far down over my eyes. There was nothing unusual in such acostume; it was common enough to many Neapolitans who have learned todread the chill night winds that blow down from the lofty Apennines inearly spring. Thus attired, too, I knew my features would be almostinvisible to HER more especially as the place of our rendezvous was along dim entresol lighted only by a single oil-lamp, a passage that ledinto the garden, one that was only used for private purposes, havingnothing to do with the ordinary modes of exit and entrance to and fromthe hotel. 

Into this hall I now hurried with an eager step; it was deserted; shewas not there. Impatiently I waited--the minutes seemed hours! Soundsof music floated toward me from the distant ball-room--the dreamy, swinging measure of a Viennese waltz. I could almost hear the flyingfeet of the dancers. I was safe from all observation where I stood--theservants were busy preparing the grand marriage supper, and all theinhabitants of the hotel were absorbed in watching the progress of thebrilliant and exceptional festivities of the night. 

Would she never come? Suppose, after all, she should escape me! Itrembled at the idea, then put it from me with a smile at my own folly. No, her punishment was just, and in her case the Fates were inflexible. So I thought and felt. I paced up and down feverishly; I could countthe thick, heavy throbs of my own heart. How long the moments seemed!Would she never come? Ah! at last! I caught the sound of a rustlingrobe and a light step--a breath of delicate fragrance was wafted on theair like the odor of falling orange-blossoms. I turned, and saw herapproaching. With swift grace she ran up to me as eagerly as a child, her heavy cloak of rich Russian sable falling back from her shouldersand displaying her glittering dress, the dark fur of the hoodheightening by contrast the fairness of her lovely flushed face, sothat it looked like the face of one of Correggio's angels framed inebony and velvet. She laughed, and her eyes flashed saucily. 

"Did I keep you waiting, caro mio?" she whispered; and standing ontiptoe she kissed the hand with which I held my cloak muffled about me. "How tall you look in that Almaviva! I am so sorry I am a little late, but that last waltz was so exquisite I could not resist it; only I wishYOU had danced it with me. "

"You honor me by the wish, " I said, keeping one arm about her waist anddrawing her toward the door that opened into the garden. "Tell me, howdid you manage to leave the ball-room?"

"Oh, easily. I slipped away from my partner at the end of the waltz, and told him I should return immediately. Then I ran upstairs to myroom, got my cloak--and here I am. "

And she laughed again. She was evidently in the highest spirits. 

"You are very good to come with me at all, mia bella, " I murmured asgently as I could; "it is kind of you to thus humor my fancy. Did yousee your maid? does she know where you are going?"

"She? Oh, no, she was not in my room at all. She is a great coquette, you know; I dare say she is amusing herself with the waiters in thekitchen. Poor thing! I hope she enjoys it. "

I breathed freely; we were so far undiscovered. No one had as yetnoticed our departure--no one had the least clew to my intentions, Iopened the door of the passage noiselessly, and we passed out. Wrappingmy wife's cloak more closely about her with much apparent tenderness, Iled her quickly across the garden. There was no one in sight--we wereentirely unobserved. On reaching the exterior gate of the inclosure Ileft her for a moment, while I summoned a carriage, a common fiacre. She expressed some surprise on seeing the vehicle. 

"I thought we were not going far?" she said. 

I reassured her on this point, telling her that I only desired to spareher all possible fatigue. Satisfied with this explanation, she sufferedme to assist her into the carriage. I followed her, and calling to thedriver, "A la Villa Guarda, " we rattled away over the rough unevenstones of the back streets of the city. 

"La Villa Guarda!" exclaimed Nina. "Where is that?"

"It is an old house, " I replied, "situated near the place I spoke toyou of, where the jewels are. "

"Oh!"

And apparently contented, she nestled back in the carriage, permittingher head to rest lightly on my shoulder. I drew her closer to me, myheart beating with a fierce, terrible joy. 

"Mine--mine at last!" I whispered in her ear. "Mine forever!"

She turned her face upward and smiled victoriously; her cool fragrantlips met my burning, eager ones in a close, passionate kiss. Yes, Ikissed her now--why should I not? She was as much mine as any purchasedslave, and merited less respect than a sultan's occasional female toy. And as she chose to caress me, I let her do so: I allowed her to thinkme utterly vanquished by the battery of her charms. Yet whenever Icaught an occasional glimpse of her face as we drove along in thesemi-darkness, I could not help wondering at the supreme vanity of thewoman! Her self-satisfaction was so complete, and, considering herapproaching fate, so tragically absurd!

She was entirely delighted with herself, her dress, and herconquest--as she thought--of me. Who could measure the height of thedazzling visions she indulged in; who could fathom the depths of herutter selfishness!

Seeing one like her, beautiful, wealthy, and above all--society knows Ispeak the truth--WELL DRESSED, for by the latter virtue alone is awoman allowed any precedence nowadays--would not all the less fortunateand lovely of her sex feel somewhat envious? Ah, yes; they would andthey do; but believe me, the selfish feminine thing, whose only sincereworship is offered at the shrines of Fashion and Folly, is of allcreatures the one whose life is to be despised and never desired, andwhose death makes no blank even in the circles of her so-called bestfriends. 

I knew well enough that there was not a soul in Naples who was reallyattached to my wife--not one who would miss her, no, not even aservant--though she, in her superb self-conceit, imagined herself to bethe adored beauty of the city. Those who had indeed loved her she haddespised, neglected, and betrayed. Musingly I looked down upon her asshe rested back in the carriage, encircled by my arm, while now andthen a little sigh of absolute delight in herself broke from herlips--but we spoke scarcely at all. Hate has almost as little to say aslove!

The night was persistently stormy, though no rain fell--the gale hadincreased in strength, and the white moon only occasionally glared outfrom the masses of white and gray cloud that rushed like flying armiesacross the sky, and her fitful light shone dimly, as though she were aspectral torch glimmering through a forest of shadow. Now and againbursts of music, or the blare of discordant trumpets, reached our earsfrom the more distant thoroughfares where the people were stillcelebrating the feast of Giovedi Grasso, or the tinkle of passingmandolins chimed in with the rolling wheels of our carriage; but in afew moments we were out of reach of even such sounds as these. 

We passed the outer suburbs of the city and were soon on the open road. The man I had hired drove fast; he knew nothing of us, he was probablyanxious to get back quickly to the crowded squares and illuminatedquarters where the principal merriment of the evening was going on, andno doubt thought I showed but a poor taste in requiring to be drivenaway, even for a short distance, out of Naples on such a night offeasting and folly. He stopped at last; the castellated turrets of thevilla I had named were faintly visible among the trees; he jumped downfrom his box and came to us. 

"Shall I drive up to the house?" he asked, looking as though he wouldrather be spared this trouble. 

"No, " I answered, indifferently, "you need not. The distance is short, we will walk. "

And I stepped out into the road and paid him his money. 

"You seem anxious to get back to the city, my friend, " I said, halfjocosely. 

"Si, davvero!" he replied, with decision, "I hope to get many a goodfare from the Count Oliva's marriage-ball to-night. "

"Ah! he is a rich fellow, that count, " I said, as I assisted my wife toalight, keeping her cloak well muffled round her so that this commonfellow should not perceive the glitter of her costly costume; "I wish Iwere he!"

The man grinned and nodded emphatically. He had no suspicion of myidentity. He took me, in all probability, for one of those "gaygallants" so common in Naples, who, on finding at some publicentertainment a "dama" to their taste, hurry her off, carefully cloakedand hooded, to a mysterious nook known only to themselves, where theycan complete the romance of the evening entirely to their ownsatisfaction. Bidding me a lively buona notte, he sprung on his boxagain, jerked his horse's head violently round with a volley of oaths, and drove away at a rattling pace. Nina, standing on the road besideme, looked after him with a bewildered air. 

"Could he not have waited to take us back?" she asked. 

"No, " I answered, brusquely; "we shall return by a different route. Come. "

And passing my arm round her, I led her onward. She shivered slightly, and there was a sound of querulous complaint in her voice as she said:

"Have we to go much further, Cesare?"

"Three minutes, walk will bring us to our destination, " I replied, briefly, adding in a softer tone, "Are you cold?"

"A little, " and she gathered her sables more closely about her andpressed nearer to my side. The capricious moon here suddenly leapedforth like the pale ghost of a frenzied dancer, standing tiptoe on theedge of a precipitous chasm of black clouds. Her rays, pallidly greenand cold, fell full on the dreary stretch of land before us, touchingup with luminous distinctness those white mysterious milestones of theCampo Santo which mark where the journeys of men, women, and childrenbegan and where they left off, but never explain in what new directionthey are now traveling. My wife saw and stopped, trembling violently. 

"What place is this?" she asked, nervously. 

In all her life she had never visited a cemetery--she had too great ahorror of death. 

"It is where I keep all my treasures, " I answered, and my voice soundedstrange and harsh in my own ears, while I tightened my grasp of herfull, warm waist. "Come with me, my beloved!" and in spite of myefforts, my tone was one of bitter mockery. "With me you need have nofear! Come. "

And I led her on, too powerless to resist my force, too startled tospeak--on, on, on, over the rank dewy grass and unmarked ancientgraves--on, till the low frowning gate of the house of my deadancestors faced me--on, on, on, with the strength of ten devils in myarm as I held her--on, on, on, to her just doom!

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

The moon had retreated behind a dense wall of cloud, and the landscapewas enveloped in semi-darkness. Reaching the door of the vault, Iunlocked it; it opened instantly, and fell back with a sudden clang. She whom I held fast with my iron grip shrunk back, and strove torelease herself from my grasp. 

"Where are you going?" she demanded, in a faint tone. "I--I am afraid!"

"Of what?"--I asked, endeavoring to control the passionate vibrationsof my voice and to speak unconcernedly. "Because it is dark? We shallhave a light directly--you will see--you--you, " and to my own surpriseI broke into a loud and violent laugh. "You have no cause to befrightened! Come!"

And I lifted her swiftly and easily over the stone step of the entranceand set her safely inside. INSIDE at last, thank Heaven! I shut thegreat gate upon us both and locked it! Again that strange undesiredlaugh broke from my lips involuntarily, and the echoes of the charnelhouse responded to it with unearthly and ghastly distinctness. Ninaclung to me in the dense gloom. 

"Why do you laugh like that?" she cried, loudly and impatiently. "Itsounds horrible. "

I checked myself by a strong effort. 

"Does it? I am sorry--very sorry! I laugh because--because, cara mia, our moonlight ramble is so pleasant--and amusing--is it not?"

And I caught her to my heart and kissed her roughly. "Now, " Iwhispered, "I will carry you--the steps are too rough for your littlefeet--dear, dainty, white little feet! I will carry you, you armful ofsweetness!--yes, carry you safely down into the fairy grotto where thejewels are--SUCH jewels, and all for you--my love, my wife!"

And I raised her from the ground as though she were a young, frailchild. Whether she tried to resist me or not I cannot now remember. Ibore her down the moldering stairway, setting my foot on each crookedstep with the firmness of one long familiar with the place. But mybrain reeled--rings of red fire circled in the darkness before my eyes;every artery in my body seemed strained to bursting; the pent-up agonyand fury of my soul were such that I thought I should go mad or dropdown dead ere I gained the end of my long desire. As I descended I felther clinging to me; her hands were cold and clammy on my neck, asthough she were chilled to the blood with terror. At last I reached thelowest step--I touched the floor of the vault. I set my precious burdendown. Releasing my clasp of her, I remained for a moment inactive, breathing heavily. She caught my arm--she spoke in a hoarse whisper. 

"What place is this? Where is the light you spoke of?"

I made no answer. I moved from her side, and taking matches from mypocket, I lighted up six large candles which I had fixed in variouscorners of the vault the night previously. Dazzled by the glare afterthe intense darkness, she did not at once perceive the nature of theplace in which she stood. I watched her, myself still wrapped in theheavy cloak and hat that so effectually disguised my features. What asight she was in that abode of corruption! Lovely, delicate, and fullof life, with the shine of her diamonds gleaming from under the foldsof rich fur that shrouded her, and the dark hood falling back as thoughto display the sparkling wonder of her gold hair. 

Suddenly, and with a violent shock, she realized the gloom of hersurroundings--the yellow flare of the waxen torches showed her thestone niches, the tattered palls, the decaying trophies of armor, thedrear shapes of worm-eaten coffins, and with a shriek of horror sherushed to me where I stood, as immovable as a statue clad in coat ofmail, and throwing her arms about me clung to me in a frenzy of fear. 

"Take me away, take me away!" she moaned, hiding her face against mybreast. "'Tis a vault--oh, Santissima Madonna!--a place for the dead!Quick--quick! take me out to the air--let us go home--home--"

She broke off abruptly, her alarm increasing at my utter silence. Shegazed up at me with wild wet eyes. 

"Cesare! Cesare! speak! What ails you? Why have you brought me here?Touch me--kiss me! say something--anything--only speak!"

And her bosom heaved convulsively; she sobbed with terror. 

I put her from me with a firm hand. I spoke in measured accents, tingedwith some contempt. 

"Hush, I pray you! This is no place for an hysterical scena. Considerwhere you are! You have guessed aright--this is a vault--your ownmausoleum, fair lady!--if I mistake not--the burial-place of the Romanifamily. "

At these words her sobs ceased, as though they had been frozen in herthroat; she stared at me in speechless fear and wonder. 

"Here, " I went on with methodical deliberation, "here lie all the greatancestors of your husband's family, heroes and martyrs in their day. Here will your own fair flesh molder. Here, " and my voice grew deeperand more resolute, "here, six months ago, your husband himself, FabioRomani, was buried. "

She uttered no sound, but gazed at me like some beautiful pagan goddessturned to stone by the Furies. Having spoken thus far I was silent, watching the effect of what I had said, for I sought to torture thevery nerves of her base soul. At last her dry lips parted--her voicewas hoarse and indistinct. 

"You must be mad!" she said, with smothered anger and horror in hertone. 

Then seeing me still immovable, she advanced and caught my hand halfcommandingly, half coaxingly. I did not resist her. 

"Come, " she implored, "come away at once!" and she glanced about herwith a shudder. "Let us leave this horrible place; as for the jewels, if you keep them here, they may stay here; I would not wear them forthe world! Come. "

I interrupted her, holding her hand in a fierce grasp; I turned herabruptly toward a dark object lying on the ground near us--my owncoffin broken asunder. I drew her close to it. 

"Look!" I said in a thrilling whisper, "what is this? Examine it well:it is a coffin of flimsiest wood, a cholera coffin! What says thispainted inscription? Nay, do not start! It bears your husband's name;he was buried in it. Then how comes it to be open? WHERE IS HE?"

I felt her sway under me; a new and overwhelming terror had takeninstant possession of her, her limbs refused to support her, she sunkon her knees. Mechanically and feebly she repeated the words after me--

"WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS HE?"

"Ay!" and my voice rang out through the hollow vault, its passionrestrained no more. "WHERE IS HE?--the poor fool, the miserable, credulous dupe, whose treacherous wife played the courtesan under hisvery roof, while he loved and blindly trusted her? WHERE IS HE? Here, here!" and I seized her hands and forced her up from her kneelingposture. "I promised you should see me as I am! I swore to grow youngto-night for your sake!--Now I keep my word! Look at me, Nina!--look atme, my twice-wedded wife!--Look at me!--do you not know your HUSBAND?"

And throwing my dark habiliments from me, I stood before herundisguised! As though some defacing disease had swept over her at mywords and look, so her beauty suddenly vanished. Her face became drawnand pinched and almost old--her lips turned blue, her eyes grew glazed, and strained themselves from their sockets to stare at me; her veryhands looked thin and ghost-like as she raised them upward with afrantic appealing gesture; there was a sort of gasping rattle in herthroat as she drew herself away from me with a convulsive gesture ofaversion, and crouched on the floor as though she sought to sinkthrough it and thus avoid my gaze. 

"Oh, no, no, no!" she moaned, wildly, "not Fabio!--no, it cannotbe=-Fabio is dead--dead! And you!--you are mad!--this is some crueljest of yours--some trick to frighten me!"

She broke off breathlessly, and her large, terrified eyes wandered tomine again with a reluctant and awful wonder. She attempted to arisefrom her crouching position; I approached, and assisted her to do sowith ceremonious politeness. She trembled violently at my touch, andslowly staggering to her feet, she pushed back her hair from herforehead and regarded me fixedly with a searching, anguished look, first of doubt, then of dread, and lastly of convinced and hopelesscertainty, for she suddenly covered her eyes with her hands as thoughto shut out some repulsive object and broke into a low wailing soundlike that of one in bitter physical pain. I laughed scornfully. 

"Well, do you know me at last?" I cried. "'Tis true I have somewhataltered. This hair of mine was black, if you remember--it is whiteenough now, blanched by the horrors of a living death such as youcannot imagine, but which, " and I spoke more slowly and impressively, "you may possibly experience ere long. Yet in spite of this change Ithink you know me! That is well. I am glad your memory serves you thusfar!"

A low sound that was half a sob and half a cry broke from her. 

"Oh, no, no!" she muttered, again, incoherently--"it cannot be! It mustbe false--it is some vile plot--it cannot be true! True! Oh, Heaven! itwould be too cruel, too horrible!"

I strode up to her. I drew her hands away from her eyes and graspedthem tightly in my own. 

"Hear me!" I said, in clear, decisive tones. "I have kept silence, Godknows, with a long patience, but now--now I can speak. Yes! you thoughtme dead--you had every reason to think so, you had every proof tobelieve so. How happy my supposed death made you! What a relief it wasto you!--what an obstruction removed from your path! But--I was buriedalive!" She uttered a faint shriek of terror, and looking wildly abouther, strove to wrench her hands from my clasp. I held them moreclosely. "Ay, think of it, wife of mine!--you to whom luxury has beensecond nature, think of this poor body straightened in a helplessswoon, packed and pressed into yonder coffin and nailed up fast, shutout from the blessed light and air, as one would have thought, forever!Who could have dreamed that life still lingered in me--life stillstrong enough to split asunder the boards that inclosed me, and leavethem shattered, as you see them now!"

She shuddered and glanced with aversion toward the broken coffin, andagain tried to loosen her hands from mine. She looked at me with aburning anger in her face. 

"Let me go!" she panted. "Madman! liar!--let me go!"

I released her instantly and stood erect, regarding her fixedly. 

"I am no madman, " I said, composedly; "and you know as well as I dothat I speak the truth. When I escaped from that coffin I found myselfa prisoner in this very vault--this house of my perished ancestry, where, if old legends could be believed, the very bones that are storedup here would start and recoil from YOUR presence as pollution to thedead, whose creed was HONOR. "

The sound of her sobbing breath ceased suddenly; she fixed her eyes onmine; they glittered defiantly. 

"For one long awful night, " I resumed, "I suffered here. I might havestarved--or perished of thirst. I thought no agony could surpass what Iendured! But I was mistaken: there was a sharper torment in store forme. I discovered a way of escape; with grateful tears I thanked God formy rescue, for liberty, for life! Oh, what a fool was I! How could Idream that my death was so desired!--how could I know that I had betterfar have died than have returned to SUCH a home!"

Her lips moved, but she uttered no word; she shivered as though withintense cold. I drew nearer to her. 

"Perhaps you doubt my story?"

She made no answer. A rapid impulse of fury possessed me. 

"Speak!" I cried, fiercely, "or by the God above us I will MAKE you!Speak!" and I drew the dagger I carried from my vest. "Speak the truthfor once--'twill be difficult to you who love lies--but this time Imust be answered! Tell me, do you know me? DO you or do you NOT believethat I am indeed your husband--your living husband, Fabio Romani?"

She gasped for breath. The sight of my infuriated figure--the glitterof the naked steel before her eyes--the suddenness of my action, thehorror of her position, all terrified her into speech. She flungherself down before me in an attitude of abject entreaty. She found hervoice at last. 

"Mercy! mercy!" she cried. "Oh, God! you will not kill me?Anything--anything but death; I am too young to die! Yes, yes; I knowyou are Fabio--Fabio, my husband, Fabio, whom I thoughtdead--Fabio--oh!" and she sobbed convulsively. "You said you loved meto-day--when you married me! Why did you marry me? I was your wifealready--why--why? Oh, horrible, horrible! I see--I understand it allnow! But do not, do not kill me, Fabio--I am afraid to die!"

And she hid her face at my feet and groveled there. As quickly calmedas I had been suddenly furious, I put back the dagger. I smoothed myvoice and spoke with mocking courtesy. 

"Pray do not alarm yourself, " I said, coolly. "I have not the slightestintention of killing you! I am no vulgar murderer, yielding to merebrute instincts. You forget: a Neapolitan has hot passions, but he alsohas finesse, especially in matters of vengeance. I brought you here totell you of my existence, and to confront you with the proofs of it. Rise, I beg of you, we have plenty of time to talk; with a littlepatience I shall make things clear to you--rise!"

She obeyed me, lifting herself up reluctantly with a long, shudderingsigh. As she stood upright I laughed contemptuously. 

"What! no love words for me?" I cried, "not one kiss, not one smile, not one word of welcome? You say you know me--well!--are you not gladto see your husband?--you, who were such an inconsolable widow?"

A strange quiver passed over her face--she wrung her hands togetherhard, but she said no word. 

"Listen!" I said, "there is more to tell. When I broke loose from thegrasp of death, when I came HOME--I found my vacant post alreadyoccupied. I arrived in time to witness a very pretty pastoral play. Thescene was the ilex avenue--the actors, you, my wife, and Guido, myfriend!"

She raised her head and uttered a low exclamation of fear. I advanced astep or two and spoke more rapidly. 

"You hear? There was moonlight, and the song of nightingales--yes; thestage effects were perfect! _I_ watched the progress of thecomedy--with what emotions you may imagine. I learned much that wasnews to me. I became aware that for a lady of your large heart andsensitive feelings ONE husband was not sufficient"--here I laid my handon her shoulder and gazed into her face, while her eyes, dilated withterror, stared hopelessly up to mine--"and that within three littlemonths of your marriage to me you provided yourself with another. Nay, no denial can serve you! Guido Ferrari was husband to you in all thingsbut the name. I mastered the situation--I rose to the emergency. Trickfor trick, comedy for comedy! You know the rest. As the Count Oliva youcan not deny that I acted well! For the second time I courted you, butnot half so eagerly as YOU courted ME! For the second time I havemarried you! Who shall deny that you are most thoroughly mine--mine, body and soul, till death do us part!"

And I loosened my grasp of her: she writhed from me like someglittering wounded serpent. The tears had dried on her cheeks, herfeatures were rigid and wax-like as the features of a corpse; only herdark eyes shone, and these seemed preternaturally large, and gleamedwith an evil luster. I moved a little away, and turning my own coffinon its side, I sat down upon it as indifferently as though it were aneasy-chair in a drawing-room. Glancing at her then, I saw a waveringlight upon her face. Some idea had entered into her mind. She movedgradually from the wall where she leaned, watching me fearfully as shedid so. I made no attempt to stir from the seat I occupied. 

Slowly, slowly, still keeping her eyes on me, she glided step by steponward and passed me--then with a sudden rush she reached the stairwayand bounded up it with the startled haste of a hunted deer. I smiled tomyself. I heard her shaking the iron gateway to and fro with all herfeeble strength; she called aloud for help several times. Only thesullen echoes of the vault answered her, and the wild whistle of thewind as it surged through the trees of the cemetery. At last shescreamed furiously, as a savage cat might scream--the rustle of hersilken robes came swiftly sweeping down the steps, and with a springlike that of a young tigress she confronted me, the blood now burningwrathfully in her face, and transforming it back to something of itsold beauty. 

"Unlock that door!" she cried, with a furious stamp of her foot. "Assassin! traitor! I hate you! I always hated you! Unlock the door, Itell you! You dare not disobey me; you have no right to murder me!"

I looked at her coldly; the torrent of her words was suddenly checked, something in my expression daunted her; she trembled and shrunk back. 

"No right!" I said, mockingly. "I differ from you! A man ONCE marriedhas SOME right over his wife, but a man TWICE married to the same womanhas surely gained a double authority! And as for 'DARE NOT!' there isnothing I 'dare not' do to-night. "

And with that I rose and approached her. A torrent of passionateindignation boiled in my veins; I seized her two white arms and heldher fast. 

"You talk of murder!" I muttered, fiercely. "YOU--you who haveremorselessly murdered two men! Their blood be on your head! For thoughI live, I am but the moving corpse of the man I was--hope, faith, happiness, peace--all things good and great in me have been slain byYOU. And as for Guido--"

She interrupted me with a wild sobbing cry. 

"He loved me! Guido loved me!"

"Ay, he loved you, oh, devil in the shape of a woman! he loved you!Come here, here!" and in a fury I could not restrain I dragged her, almost lifted her along to one corner of the vault, where the light ofthe torches scarcely illumined the darkness, and there I pointedupward. "Above our very heads--to the left of where we stand--the bravestrong body of your lover lies, festering slowly in the wet mould, thanks to you!--the fair, gallant beauty of it all marred by thered-mouthed worms--the thick curls of hair combed through by thecrawling feet of vile insects--the poor frail heart pierced by a gapingwound--"

"You killed him; you--you are to blame, " she moaned, restlessly, striving to turn her face away from me. 

"_I_ killed him? No, no, not I, but YOU! He died when he learned yourtreachery--when he knew you were false to him for the sake of wedding asupposed wealthy stranger--my pistol-shot but put him out of torment. You! you were glad of his death--as glad as when you thought of mine!YOU talk of murder! Oh, vilest among women! if I could murder youtwenty times over, what then? Your sins outweigh all punishment!"

And I flung her from me with a gesture of contempt and loathing. Thistime my words had struck home. She cowered before me in horror--hersables were loosened and scarcely protected her, the richness of herball costume was fully displayed, and the diamonds on her bosom heavedrestlessly up and down as she panted with excitement, rage and fear. 

"I do not see, " she muttered, sullenly, "why you should blame ME! I amno worse than other women!"

"No worse! no worse!" I cried. "Shame, shame upon you that thus outrageyour sex! Learn for once what MEN think of unfaithful wives--for may beyou are ignorant. The novels you have read in your luxurious, idlehours have perhaps told you that infidelity is no sin--merely a littlesocial error easily condoned, or set right by the divorce court. Yes!modern books and modern plays teach you so: in them the world swervesupside down, and vice looks like virtue. But _I_ will tell you what mayseem to you a strange and wonderful thing! There is no mean animal, noloathsome object, no horrible deformity of nature so utterly repulsiveto a true man as a faithless wife! The cowardly murderer who lies inwait for his victim behind some dark door, and stabs him in the back ashe passes by unarmed--he, I say, is more to be pardoned than the womanwho takes a husband's name, honor, position, and reputation among hisfellows, and sheltering herself with these, passes her beautypromiscuously about like some coarse article of commerce, that goes tothe highest bidder! Ay, let your French novels and books of their typesay what they will--infidelity is a crime, a low, brutal crime, as badif not worse than murder, and deserves as stern a sentence!"

A sudden spirit of defiant insolence possessed her. She drew herselferect, and her level brows knitted in a dark frown. 

"Sentence!" she exclaimed, imperiously. "How dare you judge me! Whatharm have I done? If I am beautiful, is that my fault? If men arefools, can _I_ help it? You loved me--Guido loved me--could _I_ preventit? I cared nothing for him, and less for you!"

"I know it, " I said, bitterly. "Love was never part of YOUR nature! Ourlives were but cups of wine for your false lips to drain; once theflavor pleased you, but now--now, think you not the dregs tastesomewhat cold?"

She shrunk at my glance--her head drooped, and drawing near aprojecting stone in the wall, she sat down upon it, pressing one handto her heart. 

"No heart, no conscience, no memory!" I cried. "Great Heaven! that sucha thing should live and call itself woman! The lowest beast of thefield has more compassion for its kind! Listen: before Guido died heknew me, even as my child, neglected by you, in her last agony knew herfather. She being innocent, passed in peace; but he!--imagine if youcan, the wrenching torture in which he perished, knowing all! How hisparted spirit must curse you!"

She raised her hands to her head and pushed away the light curls fromher brow. There was a starving, hunted, almost furious look in hereyes, but she fixed them steadily on me. 

"See, " I went on--"here are more proofs of the truth of my story. Thesethings were buried with me, " and I threw into her lap as she sat beforeme the locket and chain, the card-case and purse she herself had givenme. "You will no doubt recognize them. This--" and I showed her themonk's crucifix--"this was laid on my breast in the coffin. It may beuseful to you--you can pray to it presently!"

She interrupted me with a gesture of her hand; she spoke as though in adream. 

"You escaped from this vault?" she said, in a low tone, looking fromright to left with searching eagerness. "Tell me how--and--where?"

I laughed scornfully, guessing her thoughts. 

"It matters little, " I replied. "The passage I discovered is now closedand fast cemented. I have seen to that myself! No other living creatureleft here can escape as I did. Escape is impossible. "

A stifled cry broke from her; she threw herself at my feet, letting thethings I had given her as proofs of my existence fall heedlessly on thefloor. 

"Fabio! Fabio!" she cried, "save me, pity me! Take me out to thelight--the air--let me live! Drag me through Naples--let all the crowdsee me dishonored, brand me with the worst of names, make of me acommon outcast--only let me feel the warm life throbbing in my veins! Iwill do anything, say anything, be anything--only let me live! I loaththe cold and darkness--the horrible--horrible ways of death!" Sheshuddered violently and clung to me afresh. "I am so young! and afterall, am I so vile? There are women who count their lovers by the score, and yet they are not blamed; why should I suffer more than they?"

"Why, why?" I echoed, fiercely. "Because for once a husband takes thelaw into his own hands--for once a wronged man insists on justice--foronce he dares to punish the treachery that blackens his honor! Werethere more like me there would be fewer like you! A score of lovers!'Tis not your fault that you had but one! I have something else to saywhich concerns you. Not content with fooling two men, you tried thesame amusement on a supposed third. Ay, you wince at that! While youthought me to be the Count Oliva--while you were betrothed to me inthat character, you wrote to Guido Ferrari in Rome. Very charmingletters! here they are, " and I flung them down to her. "I have nofurther use for them--I have read them all!"

She let them lie where they fell; she still crouched at my feet, andher restless movements loosened her cloak so far that it hung back fromher shoulders, showing the jewels that flashed on her white neck andarms like points of living light. I touched the circlet of diamonds inher hair--I snatched it from her. 

"These are mine!" I cried, "as much as this signet I wear, which wasyour love-gift to Guido Ferrari, and which you afterward returned tome, its rightful owner. These are my mother's gems--how dared you wearthem? The stones _I_ gave you are your only fitting ornaments--they arestolen goods, filched by the blood-stained hands of the blackestbrigand in Sicily! I promised you more like them; behold them!"--and Ithrew open the coffin-shaped chest containing the remainder of CarmeloNeri's spoils. It occupied a conspicuous position near where I stood, and I had myself arranged its interior so that the gold ornaments andprecious stones should be the first things to meet her eyes. "You seenow, " I went on, "where the wealth of the supposed Count Oliva camefrom. I found this treasure hidden here on the night of myburial--little did I think then what dire need I should have for itsusage! It has served me well; it is not yet exhausted; the remainder isat your service!"

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

At these words she rose from her knees and stood upright. Making aneffort to fasten her cloak with her trembling hands, she movedhesitatingly toward the brigand's coffin and leaned over it, looking inwith a faint light of hope as well as curiosity in her haggard face. Iwatched her in vague wonderment--she had grown old so suddenly. Thepeach-like bloom and delicacy of her flesh had altogetherdisappeared--her skin appeared drawn and dry as though parched intropical heat. Her hair was disordered, and fell about her inclustering showers of gold--that, and her eyes, were the only signs ofyouth about her. A sudden wave of compassion swept over my soul. 

"Oh wife!" I exclaimed--"wife that I so ardently loved--wife that Iwould have died for indeed, had you bade me!--why did you betray me? Ithought you truth itself--ay! and if you had but waited for one dayafter you thought me dead, and THEN chosen Guido for your lover, I tellyou, so large was my tenderness, I would have pardoned you! Thoughrisen from the grave, I would have gone away and made no sign--yes ifyou had waited--if you had wept for me ever so little! But when yourown lips confessed your crime--when I knew that within three months ofour marriage-day you had fooled me--when I learned that my love, myname, my position, my honor, were used as mere screens to shelter yourintrigue with the man I called friend!--God! what creature of mortalflesh and blood could forgive such treachery? I am no more thanothers--but I loved you--and in proportion to my love, so is thegreatness of my wrongs!"

She listened--she advanced a little toward me--a faint smile dawned onher pallid lips--she whispered:

"Fabio! Fabio!"

I looked at her--unconsciously my voice dropped into a cadence ofintense melancholy softened by tenderness. 

"Ay--Fabio! What wouldst thou with a ghost of him? Does it not seemstrange to thee--that hated name?--thou, Nina, whom I loved as few menlove women--thou who gavest me no love at all--thou, who hast broken myheart and made me what I am!"

A hard, heavy sob rose in my throat and choked my utterance. I wasyoung; and the cruel waste and destruction of my life seemed at thatmoment more than I could bear. She heard me, and the smile brightenedmore warmly on her countenance. She came close to me--half timidly yetcoaxingly she threw one arm about my neck--her bosom heaved quickly. 

"Fabio, " she murmured--"Fabio, forgive me! I spoke in haste--I do nothate thee! Come! I will make amends for all thy suffering--I will lovethee--I will be true to thee, I will be all thine! See! thou knowest Ihave not lost my beauty!"

And she clung to me with passion, raising her lips to mine, while withher large inquiring eyes she searched my face for the reply to herwords. I gazed down upon her with sorrowful sternness. 

"Beauty? Mere food for worms--I care not for it! Of what avail is afair body tenanted by a fiendish soul? Forgiveness?--you ask too late!A wrong like mine can never be forgiven. "

There ensued a silence. She still embraced me, but her eyes roved overme as though she searched for some lost thing. The wind tore furiouslyamong the branches of the cypresses outside, and screamed through thesmall holes and crannies of the stone-work, rattling the iron gate atthe summit of the stairway with a clanking sound, as though the famousbrigand chief had escaped with all his chains upon him, and wereclamoring for admittance to recover his buried property. Suddenly herface lightened with an expression of cunning intensity--and before Icould perceive her intent--with swift agility she snatched from my vestthe dagger I carried!

"Too late!" she cried, with a wild laugh. "No; not too late!Die--wretch!"

For one second the bright steel flashed in the wavering light as shepoised it in act to strike--the next, I had caught her murderous handand forced it down, and was struggling with her for the mastery of theweapon. She held it with a desperate grip--she fought with mebreathlessly, clinging to me with all her force--she reminded me ofthat ravenous unclean bird with which I had had so fierce a combat onthe night of my living burial. For some brief moments she was possessedof supernatural strength--she sprung and tore at my clothes, keepingthe poniard fast in her clutch. At last I thrust her down, panting andexhausted, with fury flashing in her eyes--I wrenched the steel fromher hand and brandished it above her. 

"Who talks of murder NOW?" I cried, in bitter derision. "Oh, what a joyyou have lost! What triumph for you, could you have stabbed me to theheart and left me here dead indeed! What a new career of lies wouldhave been yours! How sweetly you would have said your prayers with thestain of my blood upon your soul! Ay! you would have fooled the worldto the end, and died in the odor of sanctity. And you dared to ask myforgiveness--"

I stopped short--a strange, bewildered expression suddenly passed overher face--she looked about her in a dazed, vague way--then her gazebecame suddenly fixed, and she pointed toward a dark corner andshuddered. 

"Hush--hush!" she said, in a low, terrified whisper. "Look! how stillhe stands! how pale he seems! Do not speak--do not move--hush! he mustnot hear your voice--I will go to him and tell him all--all--" She roseand stretched out her arms with a gesture of entreaty:

"Guido! Guido!"

With a sudden chilled awe at my heart I looked toward the spot thatthus riveted her attention--all was shrouded in deep gloom. She caughtmy arm. 

"Kill him!" she whispered, fiercely--"kill him, and then I will loveyou! Ah!" and with an exclamation of fear she began to retire swiftlybackward as though confronted by some threatening figure. "He iscoming--nearer! No, no, Guido! You shall not touch me--you darenot--Fabio is dead and I am free--free!" She paused--her wild eyesgazed upward--did she see some horror there? She put up both hands asthough to shield herself from some impending blow, and uttering a loudcry she fell prone on the stone floor insensible. Or dead? I balancedthis question indifferently, as I looked down upon her inanimate form. The flavor of vengeance was hot in my mouth, and filled me withdelirious satisfaction. True, I had been glad, when my bullet whizzingsharply through the air had carried death to Guido, but my gladness hadbeen mingled with ruthfulness and regret. NOW, not one throb of pitystirred me--not the faintest emotion of tenderness, Ferrari's sin wasgreat, but SHE tempted him--her crime outweighed his. And now--thereshe lay white and silent--in a swoon that was like death--that might bedeath for aught I knew--or cared! Had her lover's ghost indeed appearedbefore the eyes of her guilty conscience? I did not doubt it--I shouldscarcely have been startled had I seen the poor pale shadow of him bymy side, as I musingly gazed upon the fair fallen body of the traitresswho had wantonly wrecked both our lives. 

"Ay, Guido, " I muttered, half aloud--"dost see the work? Thou artavenged, frail spirit--avenged as well as I--part thou in peace fromearth and its inhabitants!--haply thou shalt cleanse in pure fire thesins of thy lower nature, and win a final pardon; but for her--is hellitself black enough to match HER soul?"

And I slowly moved toward the stairway; it was time, I thought, with agrim resolve--TO LEAVE HER! Possibly she was dead--if not--why then shesoon would be! I paused irresolute--the wild wind battered ceaselesslyat the iron gateway, and wailed as though with a hundred voices ofaerial creatures, lamenting. The torches were burning low, the darknessof the vault deepened. Its gloom concerned me little--I had grownfamiliar with its unsightly things, its crawling spiders, its strangeuncouth beetles, the clusters of blue fungi on its damp walls. Thescurrying noises made by bats and owls, who, scared by the lightedcandles, were hiding themselves in holes and corners of refuge, startled me not at all--I was well accustomed to such sounds. In mythen state of mind, an emperor's palace were less fair to me than thisbrave charnel house--this stone-mouthed witness of my struggle back tolife and all life's misery. The deep-toned bell outside the cemeterystruck ONE! We had been absent nearly two hours from the brilliantassemblage left at the hotel. No doubt we were being searched foreverywhere--it mattered not! they would not come to seek us HERE. Iwent on resolutely toward the stair--as I placed my foot on the firmstep of the ascent, my wife stirred from her recumbent position--herswoon had passed. She did not perceive me where I stood, ready todepart--she murmured something to herself in a low voice, and taking inher hand the falling tresses of her own hair she seemed to admire itscolor and texture, for she stroked it and restroked it and finallybroke into a gay laugh--a laugh so out of all keeping with hersurroundings, that it startled me more than her attempt to murder me. 

She presently stood up with all her own lily-like grace and fairymajesty; and smiling as though she were a pleased child, she began toarrange her disordered dress with elaborate care. I paused wonderinglyand watched her. She went to the brigand's chest of treasure andproceeded to examine its contents--laces, silver and gold embroideries, antique ornaments, she took carefully in her hands, seeming mentally tocalculate their cost and value. Jewels that were set as necklaces, bracelets and other trinkets of feminine wear she put on, one after theother, till her neck and arms were loaded--and literally blazed withthe myriad scintillations of different-colored gems. I marveled at herstrange conduct, but did not as yet guess its meaning. I moved awayfrom the staircase and drew imperceptibly nearer to her--Hark! what wasthat? A strange, low rumbling like a distant earthquake, followed by asharp cracking sound; I stopped to listen attentively. A furious gustof wind rushed round the mausoleum shrieking wildly like some devil inanger, and the strong draught flying through the gateway extinguishedtwo of the flaring candles. My wife, entirely absorbed in counting overCarmelo Neri's treasures, apparently saw and heard nothing. Suddenlyshe broke into another laugh--a chuckling, mirthless laugh such asmight come from the lips of the aged and senile. The sound curdled theblood in my veins--it was the laugh of a mad-woman! With an earnest, distinct voice I called to her:

"Nina! Nina!"

She turned toward me still smiling--her eyes were bright, her face hadregained its habitual color, and as she stood in the dim light, withher rich tresses falling about her, and the clustering gems massedtogether in a glittering fire against her white skin, she lookedunnaturally, wildly beautiful. She nodded to me, half graciously, halfhaughtily, but gave me no answer. Moved with quick pity I called again:

"Nina!"

She laughed again--the same terrible laugh. 

"Si, si! Son' bella, son' bellissima!" she murmured. "E tu, Guido mio?Tu m'ami?"

Then raising one hand as though commanding attention she cried:

"Ascolta!" and began to sing clearly though feebly:

 "Ti saluto, Rosignuolo! Nel tuo duolo--ti saluto! Sei l'amante della rosa Che morendo si fa sposa!"

As the old familiar melody echoed through the dreary vault, my bitterwrath against her partially lessened; with the swiftness of my southerntemperament a certain compassion stirred my soul. She was no longerquite the same woman who had wronged and betrayed me--she had thehelplessness and fearful innocence of madness--in that condition Icould not have hurt a hair of her head. I stepped hastily forward--Iresolved to take her out of the vault--after all I would not leave herthus--but as I approached, she withdrew from me, and with an angrystamp of her foot motioned me backward, while a dark frown knitted herfair brows. 

"Who are you?" she cried, imperiously. "You are dead, quite dead! Howdare you come out of your grave!"

And she stared at me defiantly--then suddenly clasping her hands asthough in ecstasy, and seeming to address some invisible being at herside, she said, in low, delighted tones:

"He is dead, Guido! Are you not glad?" She paused, apparently expectingsome reply, for she looked about her wonderingly, and continued--"Youdid not answer me--are you afraid? Why are you so pale and stern? Haveyou just come back from Rome? What have you heard? That I amfalse?--oh, no! I will love you still--Ah! I forgot! you also are dead, Guido! I remember now--you cannot hurt me any more--I am free--andquite happy!"

Smiling, she continued her song:

 "Ti saluto, Sol di Maggio Col two raggio ti saluto! Sei l'Apollo del passato Sei l'amore incoronato!"

Again--again!--that hollow rumbling and crackling sound overhead. Whatcould it be?

"L'amore incoronato!" hummed Nina fitfully, as she plunged her round, jeweled arm down again into the chest of treasure. "Si, si! Che morendosi fa sposa--che morendo si fa sposa--ah!"

This last was an exclamation of pleasure; she had found some toy thatcharmed her--it was the old mirror set in its frame of pearls. Thepossession of this object seemed to fill her with extraordinary joy, and she evidently retained no consciousness of where she was, for shesat down on the upturned coffin, which had held my living body, withabsolute indifference. Still singing softly to herself, she gazedlovingly at her own reflection, and fingered the jewels she wore, arranging and rearranging them in various patterns with one hand, whilein the other she raised the looking-glass in the flare of the candleswhich lighted up its quaint setting. A strange and awful picture shemade there--gazing with such lingering tenderness on the portrait ofher own beauty--while surrounded by the moldering coffins that silentlyannounced how little such beauty was worth--playing with jewels, thefoolish trinkets of life, in the abode of skeletons, where the passwordis death! Thinking thus, I gazed at her, as one might gaze at a deadbody--not loathingly any more, but only mournfully. My vengeance wassatiated. I could not wage war against this vacantly smiling madcreature, out of whom the spirit of a devilish intelligence and cunninghad been torn, and who therefore was no longer the same woman. Her lossof wit should compensate for my loss of love. I determined to try andattract her attention again. I opened my lips to speak--but before thewords could form themselves, that odd rumbling noise again broke on myears--this time with a loud reverberation that rolled overhead like thethunder of artillery. Before I could imagine the reason of it--before Icould advance one step toward my wife, who still sat on the upturnedcoffin, smiling at herself in the mirror--before I could utter a wordor move an inch, a tremendous crash resounded through the vault, followed by a stinging shower of stones, dust, and pulverized mortar! Istepped backward amazed, bewildered--speechless--instinctively shuttingmy eyes--when I opened them again all was darkness--all was silence!Only the wind howled outside more frantically than ever--a sweepinggust whirled through the vault, blowing some dead leaves against myface, and I heard the boughs of trees creaking noisily in the fury ofthe storm. Hush!--was that a faint moan? Quivering in every limb, andsick with a nameless dread, I sought in my pocket for matches--I foundthem. Then with an effort, mastering the shuddering revulsion of mynerves, I struck a light. The flame was so dim that for an instant Icould see nothing. I called loudly:

"Nina!" There was no answer. 

One of the extinguished candles was near me; I lighted it withtrembling hands and held it aloft--then I uttered a wild shriek ofhorror! Oh, God of inexorable justice, surely Thy vengeance was greaterthan mine! An enormous block of stone, dislodged by the violence of thestorm, had fallen from the roof of the vault; fallen sheer down overthe very place where SHE had sat a minute or two before, fantasticallysmiling! Crushed under the huge mass--crushed into the very splintersof my own empty coffin, she lay--and yet--and yet--I could see nothing, save one white hand protruding--the hand on which the marriage-ringglittered mockingly! Even as I looked, that hand quiveredviolently--beat the ground--and then--was still! It was horrible. Indreams I see that quivering white hand now, the jewels on it sparklingwith derisive luster. It appeals, it calls, it threatens, it prays! andwhen my time comes to die, it will beckon me to my grave! A portion ofher costly dress was visible--my eyes lighted on this--and I saw a slowstream of blood oozing thickly from beneath the stone--the ponderousstone that no man could have moved an inch--the stone that sealed herawful sepulcher! Great Heaven! how fast the crimson stream of lifetrickled!--staining the snowy lace of her garment with a dark anddreadful hue! Staggering feebly like a drunken man--half delirious withanguish--I approached and touched that small white hand that laystiffly on the ground--I bent my head--I almost kissed it, but somestrange revulsion rose in my soul and forbade the act!

In a stupor of dull agony I sought and found the crucifix of the monkCipriano that had fallen to the floor--I closed the yet warmfinger-tips around it and left it thus; an unnatural, terrible calmnessfroze the excitement of my strained nerves. 

"'Tis all I can do for thee!" I muttered, incoherently. "May Christforgive thee, though I cannot!"

And covering my eyes to shut out the sight before me I turned away. Ihurried in a sort of frenzy toward the stairway--on reaching the loweststep I extinguished the torch I carried. Some impulse made me glanceback--and I saw what I see now--what I shall always see till I die! Anaperture had been made through the roof of the vault by the fall of thegreat stone, and through this the fitful moon poured down a longghostly ray. The green glimmer, like a spectral lamp, deepened thesurrounding darkness, only showing up with fell distinctness oneobject--that slender protruding wrist and hand, whiter than Alpinesnow! I gazed at it wildly--the gleam of the jewels down there hurt myeyes--the shine of the silver crucifix clasped in those little waxenfingers dazzled my brain-and with a frantic cry of unreasoning terror, I rushed up the steps with a maniac speed--opened the iron gate throughwhich SHE would pass no more, and stood at liberty in the free air, face to face with a wind as tempestuous as my own passions. With whatfurious haste I shut the entrance to the vault! with what fierceprecaution I locked and doubled-locked it! Nay, so little did I realizethat she was actually dead, that I caught myself sayingaloud--"Safe--safe at last! She cannot escape--I have closed the secretpassage--no one will hear her cries--she will struggle a little, but itwill soon be over--she will never laugh any more--never kiss--neverlove--never tell lies for the fooling of men!--she is buried as Iwas--buried alive!"

Muttering thus to myself with a sort of sobbing incoherence, I turnedto meet the snarl of the savage blast of the night, with my brainreeling, my limbs weak and trembling--with the heavens and earthrocking before me like a wild sea--with the flying moon staring aghastthrough the driving clouds--with all the universe, as it were, in abroken and shapeless chaos about me; even so I went forth to meet myfate--and left her!

 * * * * *

Unrecognized, untracked, I departed from Naples. Wrapped in my cloak, and stretched in a sort of heavy stupor on the deck of the"Rondinella, " my appearance apparently excited no suspicion in the mindof the skipper, old Antonio Bardi, with whom my friend Andrea had madeterms for my voyage, little aware of the real identity of the passengerhe recommended. 

The morning was radiantly beautiful--the sparkling waves rose high ontiptoe to kiss the still boisterous wind--the sunlight broke in a widesmile of springtide glory over the world! With the burden of my agonyupon me--with the utter exhaustion of my overwrought nerves, I beheldall things as in a feverish dream--the laughing light, the azure rippleof waters--the receding line of my native shores--everything wasblurred, indistinct, and unreal to me, though my soul, Argus-eyed, incessantly peered down, down into those darksome depths where SHE lay, silent forever. For now I knew she was dead. Fate had killed her--notI. All unrepentant as she was, triumphing in her treachery to the last, even in her madness, still I would have saved her, though she strove tomurder me. 

Yet it was well the stone had fallen--who knows!--if she had lived--Istrove not to think of her, and drawing the key of the vault from mypocket, I let it drop with a sudden splash into the waves. All wasover--no one pursued me--no one inquired whither I went. I arrived atCivita Vecchia unquestioned; from thence I travelled to Leghorn, whereI embarked on board a merchant trading vessel bound for South America. Thus I lost myself to the world; thus I became, as it were, buriedalive for the second time. I am safely sepulchered in these wild woods, and I seek no escape. 

Wearing the guise of a rough settler, one who works in common withothers, hewing down tough parasites and poisonous undergrowths in orderto effect a clearing through these pathless solitudes, none can tracein the strong stern man, with the care-worn face and white hair, anyresemblance to the once popular and wealthy Count Oliva, whosedisappearance, so strange and sudden, was for a time the talk of allItaly. For, on one occasion when visiting the nearest town, I saw anarticle in a newspaper, headed "Mysterious Occurrence in Naples, " and Iread every word of it with a sensation of dull amusement. 

From it I learned that the Count Oliva was advertised for. His abruptdeparture, together with that of his newly married wife, formerlyContessa Romani, on the very night of their wedding, had created theutmost excitement in the city. The landlord of the hotel where hestayed was prosecuting inquiries--so was the count's former valet, oneVincenzo Flamma. Any information would be gratefully received by thepolice authorities. If within twelve months no news were obtained, theimmense properties of the Romani family, in default of existingkindred, would be handed over to the crown. 

There was much more to the same effect, and I read it with the utmostindifference. Why do they not search the Romani vault?--I thoughtgloomily--they would find some authentic information there! But I knowthe Neapolitans well; they are timorous and superstitious; they wouldas soon hug a pestilence as explore a charnel house. One thinggladdened me; it was the projected disposal of my fortune. The crown, the Kingdom of Italy, was surely as noble an heir as a man could have!I returned to my woodland hut with a strange peace on my soul. 

As I told you at first, I am a dead man--the world, with its busy lifeand aims, has naught to do with me. The tall trees, the birds, thewhispering grasses are my friends and my companions--they, and theyonly, are sometimes the silent witnesses of the torturing fits of agonythat every now and then overwhelm me with bitterness. For I sufferalways. That is natural. Revenge is sweet!--but who shall paint thehorrors of memory? My vengeance now recoils upon my own head. I do notcomplain of this--it is the law of compensation--it is just. I blame noone--save Her, the woman who wrought my wrong. Dead as she is I do notforgive her; I have tried to, but I cannot! Do men ever truly forgivethe women who ruin their lives? I doubt it. As for me, I feel that theend is not yet--that when my soul is released from its earthly prison, I shall still be doomed in some drear dim way to pursue her treacherousflitting spirit over the black chasms of a hell darker thanDante's--she in the likeness of a wandering flame--I as her hauntingshadow; she, flying before me in coward fear--I, hasting after her inrelentless wrath--and this forever and ever!

But I ask no pity--I need none. I punished the guilty, and in doing sosuffered more than they--that is as it must always be. I have no regretand no remorse; only one thing troubles me--one little thing--a merefoolish fancy! It conies upon me in the night, when the large-facedmoon looks at me from heaven. For the moon is grand in this climate;she is like a golden-robed empress of all the worlds as she sweeps inlustrous magnificence through the dense violet skies. I shut out herradiance as much as I can; I close the blind at the narrow window of mysolitary forest cabin; and yet do what I will, one wide ray creeps inalways--one ray that eludes all my efforts to expel it. Under the doorit comes, or through some unguessed cranny in the wood-work. I have invain tried to find the place of its entrance. 

The color of the moonlight in this climate is of a mellow amber--so Icannot understand why that pallid ray that visits me so often, shouldbe green--a livid, cold, watery green; and in it, like a lily in anemerald pool, I see a little white hand on which the jewels clusterthick like drops of dew! The hand moves--it lifts itself--the smallfingers point at me threateningly--they quiver--and then--they beckonme slowly, solemnly, commandingly onward!--onward!--to some infiniteland of awful mysteries where Light and Love shall dawn for me no more. 

The End