The arrangements so happily come to and so amicably digested, were now to be carried into effect. The expectant bridegroom accordingly took a temporary leave of the vizier, Flora and the aunt, and returned to the city to seek his friend Fernand Wagner, it being understood that those whom he had just left should meet him at that signor’s mansion by mid-day.
The morning was now breaking: and every roof top in Florence was crowded with persons anxious to obtain a view of the encampment, as we have stated at the close of the preceding chapter.
CHAPTER LXIII.
THE MANUSCRIPT.
In accordance with the plans detailed in the preceding chapter, Francisco and Flora, accompanied by the good dame Francatelli, and preceded by a suitable guard, now departed from the gorgeous pavilion of the grand vizier, on their way to the mansion of Wagner.
On arriving at the walls of the city, the Ottoman guard left them, and retraced their steps to the Turkish encampment, while our little party proceeded on its way through the now crowded streets, and soon arrived at the residence of Wagner.
With many congratulations did Fernand receive them; and being informed of the purport of their visit, hastened to acquaint his chaplain of the duties that were required of him; and before the sun was an hour higher in the heavens, Francisco, Count of Riverola, and Flora Francatelli were joined together in the indissoluble bonds of wedlock.
It was now, for the first time since his recovery, that the recollection of the solemn oath Francisco had made to his dying father came across his mind—that on that day and that hour in which he was married, he and his bride should visit the secret chamber: and he hurriedly told Wagner that it was of the utmost importance that he should be at the Riverola palace within the hour; and at the same time he requested his kind friend to accompany him.
On arriving at the Riverola palace, the party were instantly admitted, notwithstanding that the Turkish soldiers placed there by the grand vizier still guarded the gates: and Francisco proceeded alone to his sister’s apartment, where he found her sitting, busied in conjecturing the cause of her recent detention—for Ibrahim, on the completion of the marriage ceremony, of which he had been an unseen observer, had given orders to free her from all restraint on her person.
On perceiving Francisco, Nisida tenderly embraced him; and by signs he informed her that a person wished to be admitted to her presence. Having signified her acquiescence, Francisco retired, and in a few moments returned, leading by the hand his blushing bride, while Wagner followed, a few paces in the rear.
No sooner had Nisida’s eyes fallen on the form of Flora, than she started from her seat, her eyes flashing with concentrated hate, and her haughty lip curled in withering contempt, for well she guessed the purport of her visit: but the next moment her eyes fell on the advancing form of her adored Wagner—and those eyes, lit up as with the fires of hell, lost their demoniac glare in the beams of love which gleamed in their dark depths; and her lip of scorn was changed into an enchanting smile of the sweetest welcome—a transition from hate to love, a change of feelings as well as features of which woman, loving woman, alone is capable—and the next moment, regardless of the presence of Francisco and Flora, she rushed into the arms of her long-lost, her adored Wagner.
*****
Nisida was now acquainted with the marriage of her brother, the secret chamber had been visited, the manuscript brought forth to be read; but one of the party that but a few moments before occupied that room was no more—Fernand Wagner was dead! True to the letter were the words of the founder of the order of the Rosy Cross, that “the spell which the Evil One hath cast upon thee, Fernand Wagner, shall be broken only on that day and that hour when thine eyes shall behold the bleached skeletons of two innocent victims suspended to the same beam.”
Flora and Francisco had visited the secret chamber alone, but the scream of horror which came from the bride on seeing the spectacle which there presented itself to her, brought Wagner and Nisida to their side. Instantly on seeing the skeletons, the prophecy of Rosencrux rushed on the mind of Wagner; a complete revolution came over his whole frame, beautiful visions floated before his eyes, as of angels waiting to receive him and herald him to eternal glory; then stretching forth his arms, as if to embrace something immaterial, he fell heavily to the earth, and in a few moments he had breathed his last in the arms of Nisida.
*****
We will now proceed to the reading of the manuscript, and pass over a detail of the indescribable agony that rent the heart of Nisida on seeing her beloved Wagner a corpse, and the revulsion of her feelings on beholding the loathsome change that came over the face and form of the once god-like Fernand, a repetition of which would grate too harshly on the feelings of the reader.
THE MANUSCRIPT.
“In order that you, Francisco—and she who as your bride, shall accompany you on your visit to the secret cabinet wherein you are destined to find this manuscript—in order, I say, that you may both fully comprehend the meaning of the strange and frightful spectacle there prepared to meet your eyes, it is necessary that I should enter into a full and perfect detail of certain circumstances, the study of which will, I hope, prove beneficial to the lady whom you may honor with the proud name of Riverola.
“In the year 1494 I visited Naples on certain pecuniary business, an intimation of which I found amongst the private papers of my father, who had died about ten months previously. I was then just one-and-twenty, and had not as yet experienced the influence of the tender passion. I had found the ladies of Florence so inveterately given to intrigue, and had seen so many instances in which the best and most affectionate of husbands were grossly deceived by their wives, that I had not only conceived an abhorrence at the idea of linking my fortunes with one of my own countrywomen, but even made a solemn vow that if ever I married, my choice should not fall upon a Tuscan. It was with such impressions as these that I quitted Florence on the business to which I have alluded: and I cared not if I never returned thither—so shallow, heartless, and superficial did its gay society appear to me.
“On my arrival at Naples I assumed the name of Cornari, and, representing myself as a young man of humble birth and moderate fortune, mixed in the best society that would receive a stranger of such poor pretensions. I had already learned at Florence that the fair sex are invariably dazzled by titles and riches; and I had a curiosity to try whether I should be at all sought after when apparently unpossessed of such qualifications. Not that I had any serious thoughts of matrimony; for I was far from being so romantic as to suppose that any beautiful lady of high birth would fall in love with me so long as I passed for plain Signor Cornari. No; it was merely a whim of mine—would that I had never undertaken to gratify it.
“I was altogether unattended by any retinue, having quitted Florence with only a single valet, who died of sudden illness on the road. Thus did I enter Naples alone, with my package of necessaries fastened to the saddle of the steed that bore me. I put up at a small, but respectable hostel; and the first few days of my residence at the Neapolitan capital were passed in making inquiries concerning the individual whose large debt to my deceased father had been the principal cause of my journey thither.
“I found him, at length, but perceiving that he was totally unable to liquidate the claim upon him, I did not discover my real name, and took my leave, resolving to think no more of the matter.
“Returning to the inn, I happened to pass through one of the most squalid and miserable parts of the city, when my attention was suddenly fixed upon the most charming female figure I had ever seen in my life. The object of my interest was respectably but plainly clad; indeed, she appeared to belong to the class of petty tradespeople. Her form was most perfect in its symmetry; her gait was peculiarly graceful, and her manners were evidently modest and reserved: for she looked neither to the right nor to the left, but pursued her way with all the unobtrusiveness of strict propriety. I longed to behold her face; and, quickening my steps, presently passed her. I the
n had an opportunity of beholding the most beautiful countenance that ever adorned a woman. Heaven seemed to smile through the mirror of her mild black eyes; and there was such an indescribable sweetness in the general expression of her face, that it might have served a limner to copy for the countenance of an angel! She saw that I gazed intently upon her, and instantly turned aside into another street; for I should observe that females of the lower orders in Naples are not permitted to wear veils.
“I stood looking after her until she was lost to my view; and then I went slowly back to the inn, my mind full of the image of the beautiful unknown.
“Day after day did I rove through that same quarter of the city in the hope of meeting her again; and every evening did I return to my lonely chamber, chagrined and disappointed. My spirits sank, my appetite fled, and I grew restless and melancholy. At length I one morning beheld her in the flower-market, and I stood gazing on her with such enthusiastic, and yet such respectful admiration, that though she turned away, still methought it was not with a feeling of resentment.
“I was transfixed to the spot for some minutes, and it was not until she had disappeared amidst the crowd gathered in that quarter, that I could so collect my scattered thoughts as to curse my folly for having omitted such an opportunity of accosting her. I however inquired of an old woman of whom she had purchased some flowers, who she was; but all the information I could glean was, that she had recently been in the habit of buying a few flowers every Wednesday of that same old woman. I went away more contented than I had felt for many days, because I now felt certain that I knew where to meet the lovely creature again. Nevertheless, during the six succeeding days I rambled about the flower market and the squalid quarter of the city where I had first seen her, but my search was unsuccessful; and the greater the disappointment I experienced, the more powerful grew my love. Yes, it was indeed love which I now felt, for the first time, and for a being to whom I had never spoken—whom I had only seen twice, and on these occasions only for a few minutes, and whom I knew, by her garb, to belong to the poorer class. But on the following Wednesday I saw her for the third time; and when she beheld me standing near the old woman’s flower stall, she appeared vexed and surprised, and was about to turn away. I however approached her, besought her to accept of the choicest nosegay which I had been able to find, and continued to speak to her in so ardent, yet respectful a manner, that she no longer viewed me with resentment, but with something approaching to interest. And if I had been charmed by her beauty when as yet I had seen her at a comparative distance, how enraptured was I now by a nearer contemplation of that heavenly countenance.
“I assured her that her image had never been absent from my heart since first I saw her, that I should never know peace or happiness again until she would give me some hope, and that I would sooner die than have her construe my words into an insult. She was touched by the earnestness and evident sincerity of my manner; and, encouraged by her silence, I proceeded hastily to inform her that my name was Cornari, that I was a young man of humble birth, but that I possessed a modest competency, and was my own master. I then pressed her to accept my nosegay; but, suddenly bursting into tears, she exclaimed—
“‘O, signor, you know not whom you have thus honored with your notice,’ and hurried away, leaving me absolutely stupefied with astonishment and grief. It immediately struck me that she was a lost and degraded creature, who dared not respond to a virtuous love. But a few moments’ reflection told me that such innocence, such artlessness, such candor never could be assumed—never feigned; no, they were most natural! And this conviction, added to the intense curiosity which now inspired me to fathom the mystery of her singular remark, rendered me more anxious than ever to meet with her again. Several weeks passed without seeing the gratification of my wish; and I was becoming seriously ill with disappointment and defeated hope, when accident led me to encounter her once more. She would have avoided me, but I absolutely compelled her to stop. Seizing her hand, I said,—
“‘Look at me—behold to what I am reduced—mark these pale and sunken cheeks, and have pity on me!’
“‘And I, too,’ she murmured, ‘have been very miserable since we last met.’
“‘Then you have thought of me?’ I exclaimed, retaining her hand still in mine, and reading love in the depths of her large dark eyes.
“‘I have,’ she answered bitterly, withdrawing her hand at the same time; then in a tone of deep anguish she added, ‘I implore you to let me proceed on my way; and if you value your own happiness you will never seek to see me more.’
“‘But my happiness depends on seeing you often,’ I exclaimed; ‘and if the offer of an honest heart be acceptable, I have that to give.’
“She shuddered dreadfully from head to foot.
“‘Surely you are not married already?’ I said, rendered desperate by her strange and incomprehensible manner.
“‘I married!’ she absolutely shrieked forth. Then perceiving that I was perfectly amazed and horrified by the wild vehemence of her ejaculations, she said in a subdued, melancholy tone, ‘I adjure you to think of me no more.’
“‘Listen, beauteous stranger,’ I exclaimed; ‘I love and adore you. My happiness is at stake. Repeat that cruel adjuration, and you inflict a death-blow. If I be loathsome to your sight, tell me so; but leave me not a prey to the most horrible suspense. If you have a father, I will accompany you to him and make honorable proposals.’
“‘My father!’ she murmured, while her countenance was suddenly swept by a passing expression of anguish so intense that I began to tremble for her reason.
“I implored her to speak candidly and openly, and not in brief sentences of such ominous mystery. She scarcely appeared to listen to my words, but seemed totally absorbed in the mental contemplation of a deeply seated woe. At length she suddenly turned her large dark eyes upon me, and said in a low, plaintive, profoundly touching tone:
“‘Signor Cornari, again I adjure you to think of me no more. But for my own sake I would not have you believe that unmaidenly conduct on my part is the cause of the solemn prayer I thus make to you. No, no; I have naught wherewith I can reproach myself; but there are reasons of terrible import that compel me to address you in this manner. Nevertheless,’ she added, more slowly and hesitatingly, ‘if you really should continue to entertain so deep an interest in me as to render you desirous to hear the last explanation from my lips, then may you rely upon meeting me on this spot, and at the same hour, fifteen days hence.’
“She then hurried away. How that fortnight passed I can scarcely tell. To me it appeared an age. I was deeply, madly enamored of that strange, beautiful, and apparently conscientious being; and the mystery which involved her threw around her a halo of interest that fanned the flame of my passion. I was prepared to make any sacrifice rather than abandon all hope of calling her my own. The proud title of Riverola was as nothing in my estimation when weighed in the balance against her charms—her bewitching manner—her soft, retiring modesty. I moreover flattered myself that I was not indifferent to her; and I loved her all the more sincerely because I reflected that if she gave her heart to me, it would be to the poor and humble Cornari, and not to the rich and mighty Lord of Riverola.
“At length the day—the memorable day—came; and she failed not to keep her appointment. She was pale—very pale—but exquisitely beautiful; and she smiled in spite of herself when she beheld me. She endeavored to conceal her emotions, but she could not altogether subdue the evidence of that gratification which my presence caused her.
“‘You have disregarded my most earnest prayer,’ she said, in a low and agitated tone.
“‘My happiness depends upon you,’ I answered; ‘in the name of Heaven keep me not in suspense; but tell me, can you and will you be mine?’
“‘I could be thine, but I dare not,’ she replied, in a voice scarcely audible.
“‘Reveal to me the meaning of this strange contradiction, I implore you!’ said I, again a
prey to the most torturing suspense. ‘Do you love another?’
“‘Did I love another,’ she exclaimed, withdrawing the hand which I had taken, ‘I should not be here this day.’
“‘Pardon me,’ I cried; ‘I would not offend you for worlds! If you do not love another, can you love me?’
“Again she allowed me to take her hand; and this concession, together with the rapid but eloquent glance she threw upon me, was the answer to my question.
“‘Then, if you can love me,’ I urged, ‘why cannot you be mine?’
“‘Because,’ she replied, in that tone of bitterness which did me harm to hear it, ‘you are born of parents whose name and whose calling you dare mention; whereas you would loathe me as much as you now declare that you love me, were you to learn who my father is! For mother, alas! I have none; she has been dead many years!’ And tears streamed down her cheeks. I also wept, so deeply did I sympathize with her.
“‘Beloved girl,’ I exclaimed, ‘you wrong me! What is it to me if your father be the veriest wretch, the greatest criminal that crawls upon the face of the earth, so long as you are pure and innocent?’”
“‘No, no,’ she cried hastily, ‘you misunderstand me. There breathes not a more upright man than my father.’
“‘Then wherefore should I be ashamed to own my marriage with his daughter?’ I asked in an impassioned manner.
“‘Because,’ she said, in a tone of such intense anguish that it rent my heart as she began to speak; ‘because,’ she repeated slowly and emphatically, ‘he is viewed with abhorrence by that world which is so unjust; for that which constitutes the stigma is hereditary office in his family—an office that he dares not vacate under pain of death; and now you can too well comprehend that my sire is the Public Executioner of Naples!’
“This announcement came upon me like a thunderbolt. I turned sick at heart—my eyes grew dim—my brain whirled—I staggered and should have fallen had I not come in contact with a wall. It appeared to me afterward that sobs of ineffable agony fell upon my ears, while I was yet in a state of semi-stupefaction—and methought likewise that a delicate, soft hand pressed mine convulsively for a moment. Certain it was, that when I recovered my presence of mind, when I was enabled to collect my scattered thoughts, the executioner’s daughter was no longer near me. I was in despair at the revelation which had been made—overwhelmed with grief, too, at having suffered her thus to depart—for I feared that I should never see her more. Before me was my hopeless love, behind me, like an evil dream, was the astounding announcement which still rang in my ears, though breathed in such soft and plaintive tones! Three or four minutes were wasted in the struggles of conflicting thoughts, ere I was sufficiently master of myself to remember that I might still overtake the maiden who had fled from me. It struck me that her father’s dwelling must be near the criminal prison; and this was in the squalid quarter of the town where I had first encountered her. Thither I sped—into the dark streets, so perilous after dusk, I plunged; and at length I overtook the object of my affection, just as she was skirting the very wall of the prison. I seized her by the hand and implored her to forgive me for the manner in which I had received the last explanation to which I had urged her.
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