The Contessa's Vendetta

by Sichirollo Patzer, Mirella

  “Perfectly.”

  “I have wondered ever since whether the real cause of their disagreement has ever been rightly told. I would not be at all surprised if one of these days someone does not discover a papyrus containing a missing page of Holy Writ, which will ascribe the reason of the first bloodshed to be over a love affair. Perhaps a woman drove the first pair of human brothers to desperation by her charms! What do you think?”

  “It is more than probable,” I answered, lightly. “Make a poem of it, Luciana and people might say you have improved on the Bible!”

  I left her to join other groups, and to take my part in the various dances which were now following quickly one after the another. The supper was to take place at midnight. At my first opportunity, I looked at the time. Quarter to eleven! My heart raced, and blood rushed to my temples and surged noisily in my ears. The hour I had waited for so long and so eagerly had come! At last!

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Slowly, with a hesitating step, I approached my husband. He faced a young woman who leaned against the wall. With his right palm on the wall beside her head, he was leaning forward prepared to kiss her. We had only been married for a few hours and already he was ready to betray me.

  I swallowed down my fury and pasted a false smile onto my face. “Why there you are, Dario. I have been looking for you everywhere.”

  He turned swiftly around, his face red with embarrassment.

  The young woman, her face scarlet, gave me a quick curtsey and with a rustle of her skirts, disappeared into a crowd of people.

  I gave Dario my coldest, most stern look. “Permit me to remind you of your promise to come with me to see where I keep my treasures.”

  His angry frown at being interrupted disappeared as he recalled our previous discussion. He gave me a warm smile. “And I am impatient to fulfill it! Do we go now?”

  “Now, if you wish. You know the private passage through which we entered here on our return from church?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “Meet me there in twenty minutes. We must avoid being observed as we leave. But, make sure you wear something warm. In your room you will find a new cloak trimmed in sable. A small wedding gift.”

  “I am the most fortunate of men to have found such a considerate bride.” He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. “Are we going far?”

  “No, not far.”

  “We will be back in time for the late meal, I hope?”

  I bent my head. “Naturally!”

  He grinned. “I am delighted with your mystery tonight, cara. A moonlight stroll with my bride! There is even a bright moon to light our way.”

  “Yes there is.” I gave him a seductive look as I ran my finger teasingly across his lips. “I promised to reveal everything to you this night – wealth, jewels, and your bride without glasses. You must trust me, for I promise you will not be disappointed. It will be a night to remember for the rest of your life.”

  He took my hand and kissed my palm with a lingering kiss emphasized by the heat in his eyes. “Then I look forward to our jaunt. I will meet you in twenty minutes at the passage you described. I promised the next dance to a young woman, and then I will leave to prepare to meet you.”

  And he turned his attention back to the dance floor where his eyes met with the same woman whom he had been about to kiss, who at that moment met his gaze and cast him a encouraging smile.

  I watched him make his way to her, and sweep her into his arms as they glided onto the dance floor. Dance, Dario, dance, now while you still can. Biting back the curse that rose to my lips, I hurried away. Up to my own room I rushed with feverish haste, full of impatience to be rid of the disguise I had worn so long.

  Within a few minutes I stood before my mirror, transformed into my old self as nearly as possible. I could not alter the snowy whiteness of my hair, but I restyled it to the way I used to wear it in the days before I was deemed to be dead with the plague. Because of the mask I had worn, my glasses had not been needed, and my eyes, densely brilliant, and fringed with the long lashes that had always been a distinguishing feature, shone with all the lustre of a strong and vigorous young woman. I straightened myself up to my full height, and studied my lithe, shapely body. I laughed aloud in the triumph of my womanhood. I thought of the old rag-dealing woman who had said, You could kill anything easily. And so I could, even without the the aid of a swift stiletto, which I now drew from its sheath and stared down at while I carefully felt the edge of the blade from hilt to point. Should I take it with me? I hesitated. Si! It might be needed. I slipped it safely and secretly into my purse.

  And now the items of proof. I had them all ready and gathered them quickly together. First the items that had been buried with me: the gold chain upon which hung the medallion with Dario and Chiara’s initials, the purse and card-case which Dario had given me, the crucifix the monk had laid on my breast in the coffin. The thought of that coffin moved me to a stern smile. That splintered, damp, and moldering piece of wood would speak for itself shortly. Lastly I look the letters sent me by the Gilda D’Avencorta, those beautiful, passionate love letters Dario had written to Beatrice Cardano when she was in Rome.

  Now, was that all? I thoroughly searched both my rooms, ransacking every corner. I had destroyed everything that could give the smallest clue to my actions. I left nothing behind except furniture and small valuables, a respectable gift to the landlord.

  I glanced again at myself in the mirror. Si, in spite of my white hair, I was once more Carlotta Mancini. No one that had ever known me intimately could doubt my identity. I had changed my fancy ball gown for a simple everyday one. I placed my mask back on too. Over this I threw my long fur-lined cloak, which draped me from head to foot. I pulled its hood well over my head and over my eyes. There was nothing unusual in such a costume; it was common enough to many Vicenzians who have learned to dread the chill night winds that blow down from the Alps in early spring. Thus attired, I knew my features would be almost invisible to him, especially since our meeting place was the long dim passage lighted only by a single oil-lamp that led into a private garden, and far from any other entrances or exits to and from the building.

  Into this hall I now hurried with an eager step. It was deserted. He was not there yet. Impatiently, I waited. The minutes seemed hours! Sounds of music floated toward me from the distant ballroom; a dreamy waltz. I could almost hear the dancers’ steps. I was safe from all observation where I stood. The servants were busy preparing the marriage supper, and all the inhabitants of the hotel were absorbed in watching the festivities.

  Would he never come? Suppose, after all my planning and scheming, he should escape me? I trembled at the idea, then put it from me with a smile at my own folly. No, his punishment was just, and in his case, fate would be inflexible. So I thought and felt.

  I paced up and down feverishly. I could count the thick, heavy throbs of my own heart. How long the moments seemed! Would he never come? At last! I heard a rustling and a heavy step. A wisp of his spicy cologne wafted on the air. I turned, and saw him approaching. He came to me eagerly, his heavy cloak trimmed with rich Russian sable falling back from his shoulders and displaying a glimpse of his elegant clothes beneath. He resembled a Roman god, framed in ebony and velvet.

  He laughed, and his eyes flashed saucily. “Did I keep you waiting, cara?” he whispered and kissed the hand with which I held my cloak muffled about me. “I am so sorry I am a little late, but that last waltz was so exquisite I could not resist it; only I wish you had danced it with me.”

  “You honor me with that wish,” I said, as he put an arm around my waist and drew me close to him.

  I led us toward the door that opened into the garden. “Tell me, how did you manage to leave the ballroom?” I asked, unclenching my teeth.

  “Oh, easily, like I’ve done many times before. I slipped away from my partner at the end of the waltz, and told her I would return soon. Then I ran upstairs to my room, got my cloak, and here I a
m.” He laughed, evidently in the highest spirits.

  “I am glad you have agreed to come with me at all,” I murmured as gently as I could. “It is kind of you to humour me in this little journey. Did you see your valet? Does he know where you are going?”

  “He? Oh, no, he was not in my room at all. I dare say he is amusing himself with the kitchen maids. I hope he enjoys himself.”

  I breathed freely. So, no one would know of our whereabouts. We would be undiscovered. No one had as yet noticed our departure. No one had the least clue to my intentions. I gestured toward the door that led into the passage. Dario opened it and we passed through noiselessly. He paused to wrap my cloak more closely about me with feigned tenderness. I led him quickly across the garden. There was no one in sight. We were entirely unobserved. On reaching the exterior gate of the enclosure I asked Dario to summon a carriage.

  “I thought we were walking because it was not far,” he said with surprise.

  “It isn’t far, but I wanted to spare us any fatigue. It has been a long day, and it will be a long night,” I reassured.

  Satisfied with this explanation, he assisted me into the carriage and followed me.

  “To Villa Guarda,” I said as we rattled away over the rough uneven stones of the back streets of the city.

  “Villa Guarda?” exclaimed Dario. “Where is that?”

  “It is an old house,” I replied, “situated near the place I spoke to you of, where my jewels are.”

  “Oh!”

  And apparently contented, he nestled back in the carriage, and put his arm around me, permitting my head to lightly on his shoulder. He drew me closer to him and my heart beat with a fierce, terrible joy.

  “Mine at last!” I whispered to him. “Mine forever!”

  He turned his face upward and smiled victoriously. His cool lips met mine in a close, passionate kiss. Si, I kissed him. Why should I not? He was as much mine as any purchased slave, but he deserved far less respect. He caressed me and I let him do so. I allowed him to think me utterly vanquished by his charms. Yet whenever I caught an occasional glimpse of his face as we drove along in the semi-darkness, I could not help wondering at his supreme vanity. His self-satisfaction was so complete, and, considering his approaching fate, so tragically absurd!

  He was entirely delighted with himself, his fashionable clothing, and his conquest of me. Who could measure the height of the dazzling visions he indulged in? Who could fathom the depths of his utter selfishness?

  Seeing someone like him, handsome, wealthy, and powerful, would not all less fortunate men feel somewhat envious? Si, they would and they do, but believe me, selfish males whose only cares are womanizing, gambling, and running carefree amongst society, should be despised and never desired. Their death has little impact, even in the circles of his so-called best friends.

  I knew there was not a soul in Vicenza who was attached to my husband. Not one would miss him, no, not even a servant, though he, in his superb self-conceit, imagined himself to be the adored lord of the entire city. Those who had indeed loved him, he had despised, neglected, and betrayed. Musingly, I looked up at him as he rested back in the carriage, his arm encircling me, while now and then a sigh of absolute delight in himself broke from his lips, but we spoke scarcely at all. Hate has almost as little to say as love!

  The night was persistently stormy, though no rain fell. The gale had increased in strength, and the white moon only occasionally glared out from behind masses of white and gray cloud that rushed across the sky. Moon rays shone dimly, like a spectral torch glimmering through a forest of shadow. Now and again bursts of music, or the blare of trumpets, reached our ears from the more distant streets where the people were still celebrating Fat Tuesday, or the tinkle of passing mandolins chimed in with the rolling wheels of our carriage. But in a few moments we were out of reach of even these sounds.

  We passed the outer suburbs of the city and were soon on the open road. The man we had hired drove fast. He knew nothing about us, and was probably anxious to get back to the crowded squares and illuminated quarters where the principal merriment of the evening was going on. No doubt he thought we showed poor taste in requiring to be driven out of Vicenza on such a night of feasting and folly. He stopped at last. The turrets of the villa were faintly visible among the trees. He jumped down from his box and came to us.

  “Shall I drive up to the house?” he asked, looking as though he would rather be spared this trouble.

  “The distance is short, we will walk,” I responded indifferently.

  And I stepped out into the road and handed Dario the money with which to pay for our fare.

  “You seem anxious to get back to the city,” I said, half teasingly to the driver.

  “Si, that is very true!” he replied. “I hope to get many a good fare from the contessa’s marriage ball tonight.”

  “The contessa is very rich,” I said as Dario assisted me to alight. He kept his cloak well muffled round him so that the driver would not notice the elegance of his smartly tailored clothes. “I wish I were her!”

  The man grinned and nodded emphatically. He had no suspicion of my identity. He took us for a couple who had found each other at some public entertainment, and then hurried off carefully cloaked and hooded, to a mysterious nook known only to ourselves to complete our romantic escape. Bidding us a lively buona notte, he sprung onto his box again, jerked his horse’s head violently round with a volley of oaths, and drove away at a rattling pace. Dario, standing on the road beside me, watched him drive away with a bewildered air.

  “Could he not have waited to take us back?” he asked.

  “No,” I answered, brusquely. “We will be returning by a different route. Come.” And taking him by the hand, I led him onward.

  “Have we much further to go?” There was an irritable tone in his voice.

  “A three minute walk will bring us to our destination,” I replied.

  He grumbled something indiscernible as he walked. The moon suddenly leaped forth through the clouds. Its rays spilled pallidly green and cold on the dreary stretch of land before us, casting a grim light upon the white tombstones of the campo santo, the cemetery.

  My husband noticed them too and stopped suddenly. “A cemetary?”

  In all his life he had never visited a cemetery. He had always had too great a horror of death.

  “It is where I keep all my treasures,” I answered, and my voice sounded strange and harsh in my own ears, while I tightened my grasp on his arm. “Come with me,” and in spite of my efforts, my tone was one of bitter mockery. “If I, an old woman, am not afraid, then you, a strong man, should not be.”

  And I led him on, unable to resist my determined pace, too startled to speak. On and on over the rank dewy grass and unmarked ancient graves. On till the low frowning gate of the house of my dead ancestors faced me. On, on, on, with the strength of ten devils in my hand as I gripped his arm. On, on, on, to his awaiting doom!

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  As quickly as it had appeared, the moon retreated behind a dense wall of cloud. Semi-darkness once more enveloped the landscape. Reaching the gate of the vault, I unlocked it. It opened instantly, and fell back with a sudden clang. He whose arm I held with my iron grip shrunk back, and strove to release himself from my grasp.

  “Where are you going?” he demanded, in a faint tone. “This is madness! Aren’t you afraid?”

  “Of what?” I asked, endeavoring to control my voice and to speak without a shred of concern. “Because it is dark? Bah, we will have light very shortly, you will see.” And to my own surprise I broke into a loud and coarse laugh. “You have no cause to be frightened! Come!” And I stepped swiftly and easily over the stone step of the entrance, pulling him along behind me.

  Inside at last, thank Heaven! I shut the gate behind us and locked it. Again that strange undesired laugh broke from my lips involuntarily, and the echoes of the charnel house responded to it with unearthly and ghastly distinctness. Dar
io stood perfectly still in the dense gloom.

  “Why do you laugh like that?” he demanded loudly and impatiently. “It sounds horrible.”

  It took all my effort to keep myself in check. “Does it? I am very sorry. I laugh because our moonlight ramble is so mysterious and amusing, is it not?” And I stepped into his arms and kissed him deeply. “Now,” I whispered, “Step carfully for the steps are rough. We are going down into the grotto where all my jewels and money are. And it is all ours, yours and mine, my love, my husband!”

  And I led him down into the deep vault. Whether he tried to resist me or not I cannot now remember. I pulled him down the moldering stairway, setting my foot on each crooked step with the firmness of someone long familiar with the place.

  But my brain reeled. Rings of red fire circled in the darkness before my eyes. Every artery in my body seemed strained to bursting. The pent-up agony and fury of my soul were such that I thought I should go mad or drop down dead before I could see my plan to its completion. As I descended I felt his hand turn cold and clammy in mine, as though he were chilled to the blood with terror. At last I reached the lowest step and my foot touched the floor of the vault. I released my grasp of his arm and I remained still for a moment, breathing heavily.

  He caught my arm and and gripped it. “What place is this? Where is the light you spoke of?”

  I gave him no answer as I moved from his side. With the tinderbox from my purse, I lighted up a brazier and one of six candles that I had earlier placed in various corners of the vault the previous night. The light was minimal and the vault was still cast in gloom. I did not yet want him to understand the nature of the place in which he stood. Still wrapped in my heavy cloak and hood that disguised my features, I watched him. What a sight he was in that abode of corruption! Striking, hale, and full of life, with the shine of gold gleaming from under the folds of rich fur that shrouded him. His gaze never left mine as I came to stand before him. With my hand, I gently brushed his cheek. With my fingers, I sensually traced his lips.