“Ah!” said the old woman, “it was but last week that I lost my dear son, who was every thing to me: he died by a fever which he caught by his too great exertions in obtaining a livelihood for me; and I came to the market yesterday, for the first time since my son’s death, hoping to find some peasant who would fill his place, when chance threw you in my way.
“I had hoped that he would have outlived me, as I am quickly hastening to the grave, to which I look forward as to the coming of a friend, who would relieve me from those cares which, alas! but increase with my years.”
Verezzi’s heart was touched with compassion for the forlorn situation of Claudine. He tenderly told her that he would not forsake her; but if any opportunity occurred for ameliorating her situation, she should no longer continue in poverty.
CHAPTER IV.
But let us return to . — He had walked with Ugo on the heath, and had returned late. He was surprised to see no light in the cottage. He advanced to the door — he rapped violently — no one answered. “Very strange!” exclaimed Zastrozzi, as he burst open the door with his foot. He entered the cottage — no one was there: he searched it, and at last saw Bernardo lying, seemingly lifeless, at the foot of the staircase. Zastrozzi advanced to him, and lifted him from the ground: he had been but in a trance, and immediately recovered.
As soon as his astonishment was dissipated, he told what had happened.
“What!” exclaimed , interrupting him, “Verezzi escaped! Hell and furies! Villain, you deserve instant death; but thy life is at present necessary to me. Arise, go instantly to Rosenheim, and bring three of my horses from the inn there — make haste! begone!”
Bernardo trembling arose, and obeying ‘s commands, crossed the heath quickly towards Rosenheim, a village about half a league distant on the north.
Whilst he was gone, , agitated by contending passions, knew scarcely what to do. With hurried strides he paced the cottage. He sometimes spoke lowly to himself. The feelings of his soul flashed from his eyes — his frown was terrible.
“Would I had his heart reeking on my dagger, Signor!” said Ugo. “Kill him when you catch him, which you soon will, I am sure.”
“Ugo,” said , “you are my friend; you advise me well. — But, no! he must not die. — Ah! by what horrible fetters am I chained — fool that I was — Ugo! he shall die — die by the most hellish torments. I give myself up to fate: — I will taste revenge; for revenge is sweeter than life: and even were I to die with him, and, as the punishment of my crime, be instantly plunged into eternal torments, I should taste superior joy in recollecting the sweet moment of his destruction. O! would that destruction could be eternal!”
The clattering of hoofs was heard, and was now interrupted by the arrival of Bernardo — they instantly mounted, and the high-spirited steeds bore them swiftly across the heath.
Rapidly, for some time, were and his companions borne across the plain. They took the same road as Verezzi had. They passed the pines where he reposed. They hurried on.
The fainting horses were scarce able to bear their guilty burthens. No one had spoken since they had left the clustered pines.
Bernardo’s horse, overcome by excessive fatigue, sank on the ground; that of scarce appeared in better condition. — They stopped.
“What!” exclaimed , “must we give up the search! Ah! I am afraid we must; our horses can proceed no farther — curse on the horses.
“But let us proceed on foot — Verezzi shall not escape me — nothing shall now retard the completion of my just revenge.”
As he thus spoke, ‘s eye gleamed with impatient revenge; and, with rapid steps, he advanced towards the south of the heath.
Day-light at length appeared; still were the villain’s efforts to find Verezzi inefficient. Hunger, thirst, and fatigue, conspired to make them relinquish the pursuit — they lay at intervals upon the stony soil.
“This is but an uncomfortable couch, Signor,” muttered Ugo.
, whose whole thoughts were centred in revenge, heeded him not, but nerved anew by impatient vengeance, he started from the bosom of the earth, and muttering curses upon the innocent object of his hatred, proceeded onwards. The day passed as had the morning and preceding night. Their hunger was scantily allayed by the wild berries which grew amid the heathy shrubs; and their thirst but increased by the brackish pools of water which alone they met with. They perceived a wood at some distance. “That is a likely place for Verezzi to have retired to, for the day is hot, and he must want repose as well as ourselves,” said Bernardo. “True,” replied Zastrozzi, as he advanced towards it. They quickly arrived at its borders: it was not a wood, but an immense forest, which stretched southward as far as Schauffhausen. They advanced into it.
The tall trees rising above their heads warded off the meridian sun; the mossy banks beneath invited repose: but , little recking a scene so fair, hastily scrutinised every recess which might afford an asylum to Verezzi.
Useless were all his researches — fruitless his endeavours: still, however, though faint with hunger, and weary with exertion, he nearly sank upon the turf. His mind was superior to corporeal toil; for that, nerved by revenge, was indefatigable.
Ugo and Bernardo, overcome by the extreme fatigue which they had undergone, and strong as the assassins were, fell fainting on the earth.
The sun began to decline; at last it sank beneath the western mountain, and the forest-tops were tinged by its departing ray. The shades of night rapidly thickened.
sat a while upon the decayed trunk of a scathed oak.
The sky was serene; the blue ether was spangled with countless myriads of stars: the tops of the lofty forest-trees waved mournfully in the evening wind; and the moon-beam penetrating at intervals, as they moved, through the matted branches, threw dubious shades upon the dark underwood beneath.
Ugo and Bernardo, conquered by irresistible torpor, sank to rest upon the dewy turf.
A scene so fair — a scene so congenial to those who can reflect upon their past lives with pleasure, and anticipate the future with the enthusiasm of innocence, ill accorded with the ferocious soul of , which at one time agitated by revenge, at another by agonising remorse, or contending passions, could derive no pleasure from the past — anticipate no happiness in futurity.
sat for some time immersed in heart-rending contemplations; but though conscience for a while reflected his past life in images of horror, again was his heart steeled by fiercest vengeance; and, aroused by images of insatiate revenge, he hastily arose, and, waking Ugo and Bernardo, pursued his course.
The night was calm and serene — not a cloud obscured the azure brilliancy of the spangled concave above — not a wind ruffled the tranquillity of the atmosphere below.
, Ugo, and Bernardo, advanced into the forest. They had tasted no food, save the wild berries of the wood, for some time, and were anxious to arrive at some cottage, where they might procure refreshments. For some time the deep silence which reigned was uninterrupted.
“What is that?” exclaimed , as he beheld a large and magnificent building, whose battlements rose above the lofty trees. It was built in the Gothic style of architecture, and appeared to be inhabited.
The building reared its pointed casements loftily to the sky: their treillaged ornaments were silvered by the clear moon-light, to which the dark shades of the arches beneath formed a striking contrast. A large portico jutted out: they advanced towards it, and attempted to open the door.
An open window on one side of the casement arrested ‘s attention. “Let us enter that,” said he. — They entered. It was a large saloon, with many windows. Every thing within was arranged with princely magnificence. — Four ancient and immense sofas in the apartment invited repose.
Near one of the windows stood a table, with an escrutoire on it; a paper lay on the ground near it.
, as he passed, heedlessly took up the paper. He advanced nearer to the window, thinking his senses had deceived him when he read, “La Contessa di Lauren
tini;” but they had not done so, for La Contessa di Laurentini still continued on the paper. He hastily opened it; and the letter, though of no importance, convinced him that this must have been the place to which Matilda said that she had removed.
Ugo and Bernardo lay sleeping on the sofas. , leaving them as they were, opened an opposite door — it led into a vaulted hall — a large flight of stairs rose from the opposite side — he ascended them — He advanced along a lengthened corridor — a female in white robes stood at the other end — a lamp burnt near her on the balustrade. She was in a reclining attitude, and had not observed his approach. Zastrozzi recognised her for Matilda. He approached her, and beholding Zastrozzi before her, she started back with surprise. For a while she gazed on him in silence, and at last exclaimed, “Zastrozzi! ah! are we revenged on Julia? am I happy? Answer me quickly. Well by your silence do I perceive that our plans have been put into execution. Excellent Zastrozzi! accept my most fervent thanks, my eternal gratitude.”
“Matilda!” returned , “would I could say that we were happy! but, alas! it is but misery and disappointment that causes this my so unexpected visit. I know nothing of the Marchesa di Strobazzo — less of Verezzi. I fear that I must wait till age has unstrung my now so fervent energies; and when time has damped your passion, perhaps you may gain Verezzi’s love. Julia is returned to Italy — is even now in Naples; and, secure in the immensity of her possessions, laughs at our trifling vengeance. But it shall not be always thus,” continued Zastrozzi, his eyes sparkling with inexpressible brilliancy; “I will accomplish my purpose; and, Matilda, thine shall likewise be effected. But, come, I have not tasted food for these two days.”
“Oh! supper is prepared below,” said Matilda. Seated at the supper-table, the conversation, enlivened by wine, took an animated turn. After some subjects, irrelevant to this history, being discussed, Matilda said, “Ha! but I forgot to tell you, that I have done some good: I have secured that diabolical Paulo, Julia’s servant, who was of great service to her, and, by penetrating our schemes, might have even discomfited our grand design. I have lodged him in the lowest cavern of those dungeons which are under this building — will you go and see him?” answered in the affirmative, and seizing a lamp which burnt in a recess of the apartment, followed Matilda.
The rays of the lamp but partially dissipated the darkness as they advanced through the antiquated passages. They arrived at a door: Matilda opened it, and they quickly crossed a grass-grown court-yard.
The grass which grew on the lofty battlements waved mournfully in the rising blast, as Matilda and entered a dark and narrow casement. — Cautiously they descended the slippery and precipitous steps. The lamp, obscured by the vapours, burnt dimly as they advanced. They arrived at the foot of the staircase. “Zastrozzi!” exclaimed Matilda. Zastrozzi turned quickly, and, perceiving a door, obeyed Matilda’s directions.
On some straw, chained to the wall, lay Paulo.
“O pity! stranger, pity!” exclaimed the miserable Paulo.
No answer, save a smile of most expressive scorn, was given by . They again ascended the narrow staircase, and, passing the court-yard, arrived at the supper-room.
“But,” said , again taking his seat, “what use is that fellow Paulo in the dungeon? why do you keep him there?”
“Oh!” answered Matilda, “I know not; but if you wish” —
She paused, but her eye expressively filled up the sentence.
poured out an overflowing goblet of wine. He summoned Ugo and Bernardo—”Take that,” said Matilda, presenting them a key — One of the villains took it, and in a few moments returned with the hapless Paulo.
“Paulo!” exclaimed loudly, “I have prevailed on La Contessa to restore your freedom: here,” added he, “take this; I pledge you to your future happiness.”
Paulo bowed low — he drank the poisoned potion to the dregs, and, overcome by sudden and irresistible faintness, fell at ‘s feet. Sudden convulsions shook his frame, his lips trembled, his eyes rolled horribly, and, uttering an agonised and lengthened groan, he expired.
“Ugo! Bernardo! take that body and bury it immediately,” cried . “There, Matilda, by such means must Julia die: you see, that the poisons which I possess are quick in their effect.”
A pause ensued, during which the eyes of and Matilda spoke volumes to each guilty soul.
The silence was interrupted by Matilda. Not shocked at the dreadful outrage which had been committed, she told to come out into the forest, for that she had something for his private ear.
“Matilda,” said , as they advanced along the forest, “I must not stay here, and waste moments in inactivity, which might be more usefully employed: I must quit you to-morrow — I must destroy Julia.”
“,” returned Matilda, “I am so far from wishing you to spend your time here in ignoble listlessness, that I will myself join your search. You shall to Italy — to Naples — watch Julia’s every movement, attend her every step, and in the guise of a friend destroy her: but beware, whilst you assume the softness of the dove, to forget not the cunning of the serpent. On you I depend for destroying her, my own exertions shall find Verezzi; I myself will gain his love — Julia must die, and expiate the crime of daring to rival me, with her hated blood.”
Whilst thus they conversed, whilst they planned these horrid schemes of destruction, the night wore away.
The moon-beam darting her oblique rays from under volumes of louring vapour, threatened an approaching storm. The lurid sky was tinged with a yellowish lustre — the forest-tops rustled in the rising tempest — big drops fell — a flash of lightning, and, instantly after, a peal of bursting thunder, struck with sudden terror the bosom of Matilda. She, however, immediately overcame it, and regarding the battling element with indifference, continued her discourse with .
They wore out the night in many visionary plans for the future, and now and then a gleam of remorse assailed Matilda’s heart. Heedless of the storm, they had remained in the forest late. Flushed with wickedness, they at last sought their respective couches, but sleep forsook their pillow.
In all the luxuriance of extravagant fancy, Matilda portrayed the symmetrical form, the expressive countenance, of Verezzi; whilst , who played a double part, anticipated, with ferocious exultation, the torments which he she loved was eventually fated to endure, and changed his plan, for a sublimer mode of vengeance was opened to his view.
Matilda passed a night of restlessness and agitation: her mind was harassed by contending passions, and her whole soul wound up to deeds of horror and wickedness. ‘s countenance, as she met him in the breakfast-parlour, wore a settled expression of determined revenge—”I almost shudder,” exclaimed Matilda, “at the sea of wickedness on which I am about to embark! But still, Verezzi — ah! for him would I even lose my hopes of eternal happiness. In the sweet idea of calling him mine, no scrupulous delicacy, no mistaken superstitious fear, shall prevent me from deserving him by daring acts — No! I am resolved,” continued Matilda, as, recollecting his graceful form, her soul was assailed by tenfold love —
“And I am likewise resolved,” said ; “I am resolved on revenge — my revenge shall be gratified. Julia shall die, and Verezzi—”
paused; his eye gleamed with a peculiar expression, and Matilda thought he meant more than he had said — she raised her eyes — they encountered his.
The guilt-bronzed cheek of was tinged with a momentary blush, but it quickly passed away, and his countenance recovered its wonted firm and determined expression.
“!” exclaimed Matilda,—”should you be false — should you seek to deceive me — But, no, it is impossible. — Pardon, my friend — I meant not what I said — my thoughts are crazed—”
“Tis well,” said , haughtily.
“But you forgive my momentary, unmeaning doubt?” said Matilda, and fixed her unmeaning eyes on his countenance.
“It is not for us to dwell on vain, unmeaning expressions, which the soul dictates not,” returned ;
“and I sue for pardon from you, for having, by ambiguous expressions, caused the least agitation: but, believe me, Matilda, we will not forsake each other; your cause is mine; distrust between us is foolish. — But, farewell for the present; I must order Bernardo to go to Passau, to purchase horses.”
The day passed on; each waited with impatience for the arrival of Bernardo.—”Farewell, Matilda,” exclaimed , as he mounted the horses which Bernardo brought; and, taking the route of Italy, galloped off.
CHAPTER V.
Her whole soul wrapped up in one idea, the guilty Matilda threw herself into a chariot which waited at the door, and ordered the equipage to proceed towards Passau.
Left to indulge reflection in solitude, her mind recurred to the object nearest her heart — to Verezzi.
Her bosom was scorched by an ardent and unquenchable fire; and while she thought of him, she even shuddered at the intenseness of her own sensations.
“He shall love me — he shall be mine — mine for ever,” mentally ejaculated Matilda.
The streets of Passau echoed to La Contessa di Laurentini’s equipage, before, roused from her reverie, she found herself at the place of destination; and she was seated in her hotel in that city, before she had well arranged her unsettled ideas. She summoned Ferdinand, a trusty servant, to whom she confided every thing.—”Ferdinand,” said she, “you have many claims on my gratitude: I have never had cause to reproach you with infidelity in executing my purposes — add another debt to that which I already owe you: find Il Conte Verezzi within three days, and you are my best friend.” Ferdinand bowed, and prepared to execute her commands. Two days passed, during which Matilda failed not to make every personal inquiry, even in the suburbs of Passau.
Alternately depressed by fear, and revived by hope, for three days was Matilda’s mind in a state of disturbance and fluctuation. The evening of the third day, of the day on which Ferdinand was to return, arrived. Matilda’s mind, wound up to the extreme of impatience, was the scene of conflicting passions. — She paced the room rapidly.
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