A pause of some minutes ensued: the Marquis could not trust himself to speak. Silence was for a time the only safeguard against a relapse into those wildly-expressed doubts, adjurations, and frantic wanderings which had ere now denoted and thrown a light upon the real condition of his mind.
“It is then decided—and I must prepare for death!” he at length said, in a low and measured tone. “With a candour equal to that which you have already shown, doctor, tell me how long I may hope yet to live?”
“Do not press me, my lord, on that head——”
“Nay: now you are yourself adopting the very means to excite me,” interrupted the Marquis, angrily. “I am nerved to hear the worst: but I wish that the worst may be communicated to me. Speak, doctor—speak fearlessly—and say how long I may expect yet to live?”
The two physicians consulted each other with a rapid interchange of glances; and both thereby intimating an affirmative, the elder one said, “Your lordship might probably survive four-and-twenty hours.”
“Four-and-twenty hours!” repeated the Marquis, the bed actually shaking with the cold shudder that passed through his frame at this appalling announcement; “four-and-twenty hours!” he said a second time: “that is a very short reprieve, indeed! Has your skill no means, doctor, of prolonging my existence for a few days—for a few hours, even, longer than the amount which you have named?”
“There is no hope of accomplishing such a result, my lord,” was the reply.
“No hope!” murmured the Marquis: then after another short pause, he said in a tone which it cost him a dreadful effort to render firm, “Have the kindness to direct that my solicitor may be sent for without delay.”
This desire was immediately complied with; and as the lawyer lived in the neighbourhood, scarcely half an hour elapsed ere he was ushered into the presence of the Marquis.
The physicians were desired to remain in the room; and the solicitor, seating himself by the nobleman’s directions at the table near the bed, prepared his writing materials.
The Marquis of Holmesford then gave instructions relative to the disposal of his property; and the lawyer drew up the will in due form.
Having detailed various bequests and legacies, and disposed of the great bulk of his fortune, the Marquis, who spoke in a firm and distinct tone of voice, addressed the lawyer in the following manner:—
“And now, sir, have the kindness to insert the words which I am about to dictate to you:—‘Also I will and bequeath to Katherine Bazzano, half-sister of his Highness Richard Prince of Montoni, the sum of fifty thousand pounds, as a proof of the sincere contrition and deep regret which I experience on account of certain proceedings on my part, whereby the mother of the said Katherine Bazzano endured grievous wrongs and great affliction, although perfectly innocent of any evil thought or deed in respect to her husband, the deceased father of the above-mentioned Richard Prince of Montoni.’—Have you written to my dictation?”
“I have followed your lordship as accurately as the introduction of a few necessary legal technicalities into that last clause would permit,” was the solicitor’s reply.
“Then naught now remains for me but to sign the will,” said the Marquis; and he sate up in the bed, apparently with but little exertion.
He affixed his name with a firm hand to the document, and requested the physicians to witness it.
The ceremony was then completed; and the solicitor took his departure.
So soon as he had left the room, the Marquis addressed himself to the physicians in these terms:—
“My good friends, the ordeal which I most dreaded has been accomplished; and I feel as if a considerable weight were taken off my mind. What I now require is that you give me some powerful medicament or a strong cordial, that will endow me with sufficient energy to rise from this bed and proceed—alone and unattended—to another room in the house,—a room which I must visit—or I should not die in peace! And as a reward for this last service, I desire you to divide equally between you the amount which you will find in yonder writing-desk. That sum consists of a few thousands, and will, I hope, amply repay the kindness which I now expect at your hands.”
“While I thank your lordship for this instance of your bounty towards me and my colleague,” said the elder physician, “I am convinced that I express his feelings as well as my own, in stating that we cannot possibly allow you to quit your couch. The excitement might prove almost immediately fatal.”
“I have no time to waste in hearing or answering objections,” said the Marquis, his glazing eyes lighting up with the fever of impatience, and a hectic flush appearing on his sallow, sunken, withered cheeks. “Do what I request—or leave me this moment: give me such a cordial as you may think suitable to the purpose—or my valet will supply me with a bumper of champagne.”
“My dear Marquis——”
“My lord—my lord——”
“In one word, do as I desire—or leave me,” exclaimed the nobleman, cutting short the ejaculations of the two physicians by an imperious wave of his skeleton-like hand: “there shall be no other master save myself in this house, until the breath be out of my body.”
The physicians essayed farther remonstrances—but in vain. The Marquis grew fearfully irritated with their opposition, and then fell back so exhausted upon his pillow, that the medical attendants were compelled to administer as a restorative the cordial which he had demanded as an artificial stimulant a few minutes previously.
The effect of the cordial was really surprising: that old man, whom its influence had just snatched—but snatched only for a time—from the outstretched arms of death, sate up in his bed, smiled, and seemed to bid defiance to the destroying angel.
“You must humour me now, my friends,” he said, in a jocose manner, which contrasted awfully with the inevitable peril of his condition: “go to the writing-desk in yonder corner, and let me be assured you have possessed yourselves of that token of my good feeling which I bequeathe to you.”
The physicians, rather to please their obstinate patient than to gratify any avaricious longing on their part, did as they were desired: but, scarcely had they opened the desk, where they observed a bundle of Bank-notes, when a low chuckle met their ears.
They turned and beheld the Marquis, clad in a long dressing-gown and with slippers on his feet, hurrying out of the room by a small door near the foot of his bed.
To hasten after him was their first and most natural impulse; but the key was turned on the other side ere they even reached the door.
Without losing a moment, they hastened from the room by a door at the opposite extremity; but in the adjoining passage they were met by the nobleman’s principal valet.
“Gentlemen,” said the domestic, “his lordship desires me to inform you that he has no farther need of your services.”
“But, my good fellow,” exclaimed the younger physician, “your master is dying—he cannot live another day; and this excitement—this rash proceeding——”
“Is sheer madness!” added the senior medical attendant. “Whither has your master gone?”
The valet whispered a few words to the physicians: they understood him full well, and exchanged looks of mingled disgust and horror.
“The unnatural excitement of this proceeding,” at length observed the elder physician,—“will kill the Marquis within an hour!”
CHAPTER CCLII.
DEATH OF THE MARQUIS OF HOLMESFORD.
We have described at great length, in a former portion of our narrative, the voluptuous attractions of that department of Holmesford House which may very properly be denominated “the harem.”
The reader doubtless remembers the vast and lofty room which we depicted as being furnished in the most luxurious oriental style, and which was embellished with pictures representing licentious scenes from the mythology of the ancients.
To that apartment we must now once more direct attention.
Grouped together upon two ottomans drawn close to each other, five beautiful women were conversing in a tone so low that it almost sank to a whisper; while their charming countenances wore an expression of mingled suspense and sorrow.
They were all in deshabillée, though it was now past four o’clock in the afternoon.
This negligence, however, extended only to their attire; for each of those lovely creatures had bathed her beauteous form in a perfumed bath, and had arranged her hair in the manner best calculated to set off its luxuriance to advantage and at the same time to enhance the charms of that countenance which it enclosed.
But farther than this the toilette of those five fascinating girls had not progressed; and the loose morning-wrappers which they wore, left revealed all the glowing beauties of each voluptuous bust.
There was the Scotch charmer, with her brilliant complexion, her auburn hair, and her red cherry lips:—there was the English girl—the pride of Lancashire—with her brown hair, and her robust but exquisitely modelled proportions:—and next to her, on the same ottoman, sate the Irish beauty, whose sparkling black eyes denoted all the fervour of sensuality.
On the sofa facing these three women, sate the French wanton, her taper fingers playing with the gold chain which, in the true spirit of coquetry, she had thrown negligently round her neck, and the massive links of which made not the least indentation upon the plump fullness of her bosom. By her side was the Spanish houri, her long black ringlets flowing on the white drapery which set off her transparent olive skin to such exquisite advantage.
This group formed an assemblage of charms which would have raised palpitations and excited mysterious fires in the heart of the most heaven-devoted anchorite that ever vowed a life of virgin-purity.
And the picture was the more fascinating—the more dangerous, inasmuch as its voluptuousness was altogether unstudied at this moment, and those beauteous creatures noticed not, in their sisterly confidence towards each other, that their glowing and half-naked forms were thus displayed almost as it might have seemed in a spirit of competition and rivalry.
But what is the topic of their discourse? and wherefore has a shade of melancholy displaced those joyous smiles that were wont to play upon lips of coral opening above teeth of pearls?
Let us hear them converse.
“This illness is the more unfortunate for us,” said the Scotch girl, “because it arrived so suddenly.”
“And before the Marquis had made his will,” added the French-woman.
“Yes,” observed the English beauty,—“it was only yesterday afternoon that he assured us he should not fail to take good care of us all whenever he did make his will.”
“And now he will die intestate, as the lawyers say,” murmured the Scotch girl; “and we shall be sent forth into the world without resources.”
“Oh! how shocking to think of!” cried the Spaniard. “I am sure I should die if I were forced to quit this charming place.”
“Nay—now you talk too absurdly, my dear friend,” interposed the French charmer; “for, beautiful as we all are, we need not be apprehensive of the future.”
“After all, the Marquis may make his will,” said the English girl.
“Or recover,” added the Irish beauty. “And for my part, I would sooner that he should do that than be snatched away from us so suddenly; for, old as he is, the Marquis is very agreeable—very amiable.”
“From what our maids told us just now,” remarked the Scotch girl, “there does not appear to be any chance of his lordship’s recovery. Besides, he is much older than he ever chose to admit to us; and his life has been a long career of pleasure and enjoyment.”
“Alas! poor old nobleman,” said the Irish beauty, Kathleen; “his often-expressed wish does not appear destined to be fulfilled! How frequently has he declared that he should die contented if surrounded by ourselves, and with a goblet of champagne at his lips!”
Scarcely were these words uttered, when the door of the apartment opened abruptly; and the Marquis made his appearance.
The five women started from their seats, uttering exclamations of joy.
The Marquis bolted the door with great caution, and then advanced towards his ladies with a smile upon his haggard, pale, and death-like countenance.
Indeed, it was with the greatest difficulty that the young women could restrain a murmur of surprise—almost of disgust—when, as he drew nearer towards them, they beheld the fearful ravages which a few hours’ illness had made upon his face. The extent of those inroads was moreover enhanced by the absence of his false teeth, which he had not time to fix in his mouth ere he escaped from the thraldom of his physicians: so that the thinness of his cheeks was rendered almost skeleton-like by the sinking in of his mouth.
The superb dressing-gown seemed a mockery of the shrivelled and wasted form which it loosely wrapped; and as the old nobleman staggered towards his mistresses, whose first ebullition of joy at his appearance was so suddenly shocked by the ghastly hideousness of his aspect, they had not strength nor presence of mind to hasten to meet him.
Kathleen was the first to conquer her aversion and dismay; and she caught the Marquis in her arms just at the instant when, overcome by the exertions of the last few minutes, he was about to sink beneath the weight of sheer exhaustion.
Then the other women crowded forward to lend their aid; and the old nobleman was placed upon one of the luxurious ottomans.
He closed his eyes, and seemed to breathe with great difficulty.
“Oh! my God—he is dying!” exclaimed Kathleen: “ring for aid—for the physicians——”
“No—no!” murmured the Marquis, in a faint tone; and, opening his eyes once more, he gazed around him—vacantly at first, then more steadily,—until he seemed to recover visual strength sufficient to distinguish the charming countenances that were fixed upon him with mournful interest: “no, my dear girls,” he continued, his voice becoming a trifle more powerful; “the doors of this room must not be opened again so long as the breath remains in my body—for I am come,” he added with a smile the ghastliness of which all his efforts could not subdue,—“I am come to die amongst you!”
“To die—here—amongst us!” ejaculated all the women (save Kathleen), shrinking back in terror and dismay.
“Yes, my dear girls,” returned the Marquis: “and thus will my hope and my prophecy be fulfilled. But let us not trifle away the little time that remains to me. Kathleen, my charmer—I am faint—my spirit seems to be sinking:—give me wine!”
“Wine, my lord?” she repeated, in a tone of kind remonstrance.
“Yes—wine—delicious, sparkling wine!” cried the nobleman, raising himself partially up on the cushions of the sofa. “Delay not—give me champagne!”
The French and Spanish girls hastened to a splendid buffet near the stage at the end of the room, and speedily returned to the vicinity of the ottoman, bearing between them a massive silver salver laden with bottles and glasses.
The wine was poured forth: the Marquis desired Kathleen to steady his hand as he conveyed the nectar to his lips; and he drained the glass of its contents.
A hectic tinge appeared upon his cheeks; his eyes were animated with a partial fire; and he even seemed happy, as he commanded his ladies to drink bumpers of champagne all round.
“Consider that I am going on a long journey, my dear girls,” he exclaimed, with a smile; “and do not let our parting be sorrowful. Kathleen, my sweet one, come nearer: there—place yourself so that I may recline my head on your bosom—and now throw that warm, plump, naked arm over my shoulder. Oh! this is paradise!”
And for a few minutes the hoary voluptuary, whose licentious passions were dominant even in death, closed his eyes and seemed to enjoy wi
th intense gratification all the luxury of his position.
It was a painful and disgusting sight to behold the shrivelled, haggard, and attenuated countenance of the dying sensualist, pressing upon that full and alabaster globe so warm with health, life, and glowing passions;—painful and disgusting, too, to see that thin, emaciated, and worn-out frame reclining in the arms of a lovely girl in the vigour and strength of youth:—hideous—hideous to view that contiguity of a sapless, withered trunk and a robust and verdant tree!
“Girls,” said the Marquis, at length opening his eyes, but without changing his position, “it is useless to attempt to conceal the truth from you: you know that I am dying! Well—no matter: sooner or later Death must come to all! My life has been a joyous—a happy one; and to you who solace me in my dissolution, I am not ungrateful. Anna, dearest—thrust your hand into the pocket of my dressing-gown.”
The French-woman obeyed this command, and drew forth a sealed packet, addressed to the five ladies by their christian and surnames.
“Open it,” said the Marquis. “Two months ago I made this provision for you, my dear girls—because, entertaining foolish apprehensions relative to making my will, I felt the necessity of at least taking care of you.”
While the nobleman was yet speaking, Anna had opened the packet, whence she drew forth a number of Bank-notes.
There were ten—each for a thousand pounds; and a few words written within the envelope specified that the amount was to be equally divided amongst the five ladies.
“Oh! my dear Marquis, how liberal!” exclaimed the French girl, her countenance becoming radiant with joy.
“How generous!” cried the English beauty.
“How noble!” ejaculated the Scotch charmer.
“It is more than generous and noble—it is princely!” said the Spanish houri.
Kathleen simply observed, “My dear lord, I thank you most unfeignedly for this kind consideration on your part.”
The Mysteries of London, Vol. II [Unabridged & Illustrated] (Valancourt Classics) Page 129