Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf

by George W. M. Reynolds

  Appareled in handsome garments, and with the rich carnation glow of health and animation on her cheeks, and with her eyes flashing the fires of hope, but with the vermilion lips compressed, Nisida now stood on the strand where so oft she had wandered like a naiad, feeling no shame at her semi-nudity.

  During the time occupied by her toilet, the fleet of seven ships had approached much nearer to the island, and now they were not more than three miles distant. The hulls, which at first had seemed quite black, shone, as they drew closer, with the gay colors in which they were painted, the gorgeous sunlight playing vividly on the gilding of the prows, the streaks of red and white along the sides, and the splendid decorations of the poop lanterns. Noble and mighty ships they were—ships of size such as Nisida had never seen before, and in comparison with which all the merchant-vessels she had beheld at Leghorn were but mere boats. There was no need to raise a signal to invite them to approach—for that fleet was evidently steering toward the island. Whence did this fleet come? whither was it bound? to what nation did it belong? and would those on board treat her with attention and respect?

  Such were the thoughts which flashed across her brain—and her heart beat with anxiety for the arrival of the moment which should solve those questions. Absorbed as she was in the contemplation of the noble ships—those mighty but graceful swans of the ocean—she did not forget to cast, from time to time, a rapid glance around, to see if Fernand were retracing his way toward her. Alas! no—he came not—and she must quit the isle without embracing him—without assuring him of her constant love—without renewing her oft-repeated promise to return. Ah! a thought struck her: she would leave a note for him in the hut! No sooner was the project determined on than she set about its execution; for there were writing materials amidst the stores saved from the corsair-wreck. A brief but tender letter was hastily penned, and then secured in a place where she knew he must find it should he revisit the rude tenement in which they had so often slept in each other’s arms. And that he would revisit it she both fondly hoped and firmly believed—revisit it so soon as the excitement and the terror, under the influence of which he had parted from her, should have subsided. Her mind was now much easier, and her beauty was wonderfully enhanced by the glow of animation which suffused itself over her countenance, giving additional light to her ever brilliant eyes, and rendering her noble aquiline face resplendent to gaze upon.

  The ships came to anchor at a distance of about two miles from the shore: and though the banners of each were fluttering in the breeze, yet Nisida was not well skilled enough in discriminating the flags of different nations to be able immediately to satisfy herself to which country that fleet belonged. But as she stood with her eyes fixed on the foremost vessel, which was also the largest, she observed that there was a gilt crescent in the middle of the blood-red standard that floated over her central poop-lantern; and a chill struck to her heart—for the thought of African pirates flashed to her mind! This alarm was, however, as evanescent as it was poignant; for another moment’s reflection convinced her that none of the princes of Africa could send so proud a fleet to sea. Following up the chain of reasoning thus suggested, and calling to her aid all the accounts she had read of naval fights between the Christians and the Moslems, she at length remembered that the blood-red banner, with the gilt crescent in the middle, denoted the presence of the Kapitan-Pasha, or Lord High Admiral of the Ottoman Empire. Confidently believing that peace existed between Italy and Turkey, she had now no longer any fears as to the treatment she was likely to experience at the hands of the Mohammedans; and it was with unfeigned joy that she beheld a boat, which had put off from the admiral’s ship, at length approaching the shore.

  As the magnificently painted and gorgeously gilt barge, which twenty-four white-turbaned rowers urged along with almost horse-race speed, neared the strand, Nisida observed, beneath a velvet canopy in the stern, a personage, who by his splendid apparel, his commanding demeanor, and the respect paid to him by the slaves accompanying him, was evidently of exalted rank. She accordingly conceived that this must be the kapitan-pasha himself. But she was mistaken. Her delight at the approach of the barge, which she fondly hoped would prove the means of her deliverance from the island, was only equaled by the surprise of those on board at beholding a beautiful and elegantly dressed lady, unattended and alone, on the seashore, as if awaiting their arrival. And, during the few minutes which now elapsed ere the barge touched the strand, it was evident that the high functionary seated beneath the canopy surveyed Nisida with increasing wonder and admiration; while she, on her side, could not help noticing that he was remarkably handsome, very young, and possessing a countenance rather of an Italian than a Turkish cast of features.

  Meantime a profound silence, broken only by the slight and uniform sounds produced by the oars, prevailed: and when the boat touched the strand, a long and wide plank, covered with velvet, was so placed as to enable the high functionary before alluded to to land conveniently. Attended by two slaves, who followed at a respectful distance, the Mussulman chief advanced toward Nisida, whom he saluted in a manner which strengthened her suspicion that he was not of Turkish origin, although habited in the richest Oriental costume she had ever seen, and evidently holding some very superior office among the Ottomans. She returned his salutation with a graceful bow and a sweet smile: and he immediately addressed her in the Italian tongue—her own dear and delightful language, saying, “Lady, art thou the queen of this land? or art thou, as appearances would almost lead one to conjecture, a solitary inhabitant here?”

  For he saw that she was alone—beheld no traces of culture; and there was but one miserable dwelling, and that such as she might have built up with her own hands. Nisida shook her head mournfully, making signs that she was deaf and dumb. The Mussulman chief uttered an ejaculation of mingled surprise and grief, and surveyed the lady with additional interest and admiration. But in a few moments his countenance assumed a sudden expression of astonishment, as if a light had broken in upon him, suggesting something more than a mere suspicion—nay, indeed, a positive conviction; and having examined her features with the most earnest attention, he abruptly took his tablets from the folds of his garment, and wrote something on them. He then handed them to Nisida; and it was now her turn to experience the wildest surprise—for on the page opened to her view were these words, traced in a beautiful style of calligraphy, and in the Italian language: “Is it possible that your ladyship can be the Donna Nisida of Riverola?”

  Nisida’s eyes wandered in astonishment from the tablets to the countenance of him who had penciled that question; but his features were certainly not familiar to her—and yet she thought that there was something in the general expression of that handsome face not altogether unknown to her. As soon as she had partially recovered from the surprise and bewilderment produced by finding that she at least was known to the Ottoman functionary, she wrote beneath his question the following reply: “I am indeed Nisida of Riverola, who for seven long months have been the only inhabitant of this island, whereon I was shipwrecked, and I am now anxious to return to Italy—or at all events to the first Christian port at which your fleet may touch. Have mercy upon me, then; and take me hence! But who are you, signor, that I should prove no stranger to you?”

  The Ottoman chief read these words, and hastened to reply in the following manner: “I have the honor to be the grand vizier of his imperial highness the glorious Sultan Solyman, and my name is Ibrahim. A few months ago I encountered your brother Francisco, Count of Riverola, who was then in command of a body of Tuscan auxiliaries, raised to assist in defending Rhodes against the invading arms of the mighty Solyman. Your brother became my prisoner, but I treated him worthily. He informed me with bitter tears of the strange and mysterious disappearance of his well-beloved sister, who had the misfortune to be deprived of the faculties of hearing and speech. Your brother was soon set free, after the fall of Rhodes, and he returned to his native city. But from all he told me of thee,
lady, it was natural that I should ere now conjecture who thou must be.”

  Ibrahim did not choose to add that he had remembered to have seen Nisida occasionally in their native city of Florence, and that he was indeed the brother of her late dependent, Flora Francatelli. But the explanation which he did give was quite sufficient to renew her deepest surprise, as she now learnt for the first time that during her absence her brother had been engaged in the perils of warfare. The grand vizier gently withdrew from Nisida’s hand the tablets on which her eyes were positively riveted; but it was only to trace a few lines to afford her additional explanations. When he returned the tablets to her again she read as follows: “By a strange coincidence the glorious fleet which has wafted me hither to deliver you from this lonely isle, and which is under the command of the kapitan-pasha in person, is bound for the western coast of Italy. Its mission is at present known only to myself and a faithful Greek dependent; but your ladyship shall receive worthy attention and be duly conveyed to Leghorn. The squadron has been driven from its course by a tempest which assailed us off the island of Candia; our pilot lost his reckonings, and when land was descried this morning, it was believed to be the coast of Sicily. Hast thou, lady, any means of enlightening us as to the geographical position of this island?”

  Nisida answered in the ensuing manner: “I have not the least notion of the geographical position of the island. An eternal summer appears to prevail in this clime, which would be a terrestrial paradise were not the forests infested by hideous serpents of an enormous size.”

  Ibrahim Pasha, having read this reply, summoned from the barge the officer in command: and to him he communicated the intelligence which he had just received from Nisida. That officer’s countenance immediately underwent a dreadful change; and, falling on his knees at Ibrahim’s feet, he made some strong appeal, the nature of which Nisida could only divine by its emphatic delivery and the terrified manner of the individual. Ibrahim smiled contemptuously, and motioned the officer with an imperious gesture to rise and return to the barge. Then, again, having recourse to the tablets, he conveyed the following information to Nisida: “Lady, it appears that this is the Isle of Snakes, situated in the Gulf of Sictra, on the African coast. Horrible superstitions are attached to this clime: and I dare not remain longer on its shore, lest I should seriously offend the prejudices of those ignorant sailors. Come, then, lady, you shall receive treatment due to your rank, your beauty, and your misfortunes.”

  In the meantime the officer had returned to the barge, where whispers speedily circulated in respect to the land on which that boat had touched; and the reader may imagine the extent of the loathing which the mere name of the isle was calculated to inspire in the breasts of the superstitious Mussulmans, when we observe that the existence of that island was well known to the Turks and also to the Africans, but was left uninhabited, and was never visited knowingly by any of their ships. Nisida saw that the grand vizier was in haste to depart, not through any ridiculous fears on his part, because he was too enlightened to believe in the fearful tales of mermaids, genii, ghouls, vampires, and other evil spirits by which the island was said to be haunted, but because his renegadism had been of so recent a date that he dared not, powerful and altered as he was, afford the least ground for suspecting that the light of Christianity triumphed in his soul over the dark barbarism of his assumed creed. Seeing, then, that Ibrahim Pasha was anxious to yield to the superstitious feelings of the sailors, Nisida intimated, with a graceful bend of the head, her readiness to accompany him. But, as she advanced toward the boat, she cast a rapid and searching glance behind her. Alas! Wagner appeared not.

  A feeling of uneasiness, amounting almost to a pang of remorse, took possession of her, as she placed her foot upon the velvet-covered plank; and for an instant she hesitated to proceed.

  Could she abandon Fernand to the solitude of that isle? Could she renounce the joys which his love had taught her to experience? And might she not be enabled to persuade him to make that sacrifice which would invest him with a power that she herself would direct and wield according to her own pleasure and suitably to her own interests? But, oh! that hesitation lasted not more than a moment; for her feet were on the plank leading to the barge, and at a short distance floated the ship that would bear her away from the isle.

  One longing, lingering look upon the shore of that island where she had enjoyed so much happiness, even if she had experienced so much anxiety; one longing, lingering look, and she hesitated no more. Ibrahim escorted her to a seat beneath the velvet canopy; the officer in command gave the signal, the barge was shoved off, the rowers plied their oars, and the island was already far behind, ere Nisida had the courage to glance toward it again!

  CHAPTER LVII.

  Let us now return to Fernand Wagner, whom we left flying from his Nisida, flying in horror and alarm from her whom he nevertheless loved so tenderly and devotedly. He fled as if from the brink of the yawning pit of hell, into which the malignant fiend who coveted his soul was about to plunge him. Nor once did he look back. Absorbed as his feelings were in the full conviction of the tremendous peril from which he had just escaped, he still found room for the reflection that were he to turn and catch but one glimpse of the beauteous, oh! too beauteous creature from whom he had torn himself away, he should be lost. His mind was bent upon the salvation of his immortal soul; and he knew that the enemy of mankind was assailing him with a power and with an energy which nothing save the assistance of Heaven could enable him to resist. He knew also that Heaven helps only those who are willing and anxious to help themselves; and of this doctrine he had received a striking and triumphant proof in the sudden and evanescent appearance of his guardian angel at the instant when, overpowered by the strong, the earnest, and the pathetic pleading of the siren Nisida, he was about to proclaim his readiness to effect the crowning sacrifice. And it was to avoid the chance of that direful yielding—to fly from a temptation which became irresistible when embellished with all the eloquence of a woman on whom he doted, that Wagner sped with lightning rapidity toward the mountains.

  But the beauteous form of Nisida met not now his eyes; and deeply, profoundly, ardently as he still loved her, and felt that he must ever love her, yet, to speak soothly, he deplored not that she was no longer there. The vision of the previous night had so firmly established hope in his soul, that he had prepared and tutored himself, during his journey across the mountains, to sacrifice all his happiness on earth to insure the eternal felicity of heaven.

  No. Nisida was not there. But as he drew closer to the shore, he beheld, to his ineffable joy, the dark spot gradually assume that defined shape which left no room to doubt the truth of his vision, even were he inclined to be skeptical. For there, indeed, touching the strand, but still so far in the water that a slight exertion would send it completely afloat, was a large boat, curiously shaped, and painted in a variety of fantastic colors. It had a mast standing, but the sail was lowered and, on a closer inspection, the boat proved to be altogether unimpaired.

  “Heaven delights to effect its wise intentions by natural means,” thought Wagner within himself. “But surely it could not have been through the agency of Nisida that this boat was left upon the shore? No,” he added aloud, after a still closer inspection; “the rope fastened to the prow has been snapped asunder! Doubtless the boat became detached from one of the ships which appeared off the island yesterday, and which,” he said in a low murmuring voice, and with an ill-subdued sigh, “have afforded Nisida the means of departure hence.”

  He sat down, exhausted; and as he found leisure for recollection—as his thoughts composed themselves and settled down into something like collected calmness—he felt a sensation of indescribable joy at having triumphed over the appalling temptations which had beset him. And in his soul a voice seemed to be singing an anthem of delight and gratitude; and he soon experienced a serenity of mind such as he had not known for many hours past! When man, having yielded to temptation, succeeds in esc
aping the perils of the consequences, he beholds a strong motive for self-gratulation;—but how ineffably more sweet is it to be able to reflect that the temptation itself has been avoided in the first instance, and that the dangers of the results have never even been risked.

  Thus thought Wagner:—but not for a moment did he attribute to any strength of mind on his own part, the escape which had just been effected from the snares set by the evil one. No; he acknowledged within himself, and with all due humility, that the hand of the Almighty had sustained him in his most trying moments of peril; and ere he thought of resuming his journey to that side of the island on which Nisida was not, he knelt in fervent prayer. Rising from his knees, his eyes accidentally swept the sea:—and he was riveted to the spot from which he was about to turn away—for the white sails of the Ottoman fleet met his astonished view. He remained gazing on those objects for some time, until he was convinced they were nearing the island. For a few moments a deep regret took possession of him:—he should lose his Nisida irrevocably! But his next impulse was to wrestle with this feeling—to combat this weakness. How could he have hoped ever to rejoin her without rendering himself again liable to the witchery of her siren tongue—the eloquence of her silver-toned voice—the persuasiveness of her graceful manners? No; it were better that she should depart; it were preferable that he should lose her and preserve his immortal soul. Thus reasoned he;—and that reasoning was effectual. He waited only long enough to assure himself that the fleet was positively approaching the island:—he then knew that she would depart;—and, without permitting himself to yield again to the weakness which had for a few moments threatened to send him back within the sphere of Nisida’s fatal influence, he tore himself away from that point amongst the heights which commanded the view of the side of the island where she was. Hastening around the base of the volcano, he reached the defiles leading to that part of the isle where he had periodically fulfilled his dreadful destiny as a Wehr-Wolf. Carefully avoiding the outskirts of the forest and the knots of large trees, he proceeded toward the shore; and his heart was rent with feelings of deep anguish as he everywhere beheld the traces of destruction left behind him by his recent run in the horrible form of a savage monster. Then, too, when melancholy thoughts had once again entered his soul, the image of Nisida appeared to flit before him in the most tempting manner; and the more he endeavored to banish from his memory the recollection of her charms, the more vividly delineated did they become.