CHAPTER XLII.
Under a wide-spreading and drooping fig-tree in the lower part of thegardens of the villa on the hill was seated a man who kept his eyessteadily fixed upon a certain spot at the end of the terrace farabove. The distance in a direct line to the object toward which hiseyes were turned was some two hundred and fifty yards; it might be alittle more, but at all events, he could see distinctly all thatpassed above.
At first it seemed as if there was but little to be seen. Alady was seated, reading, in a small plot or garden, close by ahighly-ornamented doorway which led into the interior of the villa. Itwas in an angle of the building, where a large mass of architectureprotruded beyond the general fa?ade. Thus, when the sun was in thewest, a deeper shade was cast there than upon any other point of theterrace. It was, perhaps, that the sun had nearly reached the horizon,and that the shades of night were coming fast, which caused the ladyto lay the manuscript book upon her knee, and, looking up to the sky,seem to contemplate a flight of tinted clouds, which looked like theleaves of a shedding rose blown over a garden by the rifling wind.
But hark! what is that sound that strikes his ear? the fast footfallsof horses coming along the road beneath the stone walls of the garden.They pause close by him.
"Here! hold the horse, and wait till I return," said a voice, and thenext moment a cavalier vaulted over the wall, and stood within twentyyards of where the watcher sat.
For a moment the stranger seemed uncertain which way to turn, but thenhe forced his way through the vines to a path which led up to the mainentrance of the villa on the terrace. He looked up and around fromtime to time as he ascended; but suddenly an object seemed to meet hiseyes to the right, and, striking away from the path, he took a coursedirect toward it, regardless of any obstacle. The watcher kept his eyeupon him while he climbed the hill, mounted the steps of the terrace,and stood by the lady's side.
Who can tell what words were spoken? Who can tell what feelings wereexpressed! Who can tell what memories were re-awakened? Who can tellwhat passions had power in that hour?
The watcher saw him stand beside her talking for several minutes, thencast himself down on the ground by her side. A moment after, his armglided round her; and one could almost fancy that wafted on the aircame the words, "One--one kiss before we part."
Their lips evidently met, and God forgive them if it was a sin! Thenext instant Leonora rose from her seat, and, hand in hand, theyentered the building by the door which led to her own saloon.
"Ha! ha!" said the watcher, with a bitter laugh. But two minutes hadnot elapsed before lights flashed from the windows of that very room,and the shadows of three figures passed across.
"What means this?" said the man who sat beneath the fig-tree; and,creeping forth from his concealment, he stole up the hill. He reachedthe terrace at some distance from the little garden, and then walkedalong in the direction of the spot where he had seen Lorenzo andLeonora. His sandalled foot made very little noise; and he kept soclose to the building that his gown brushed against the stone-work.When he reached the first window of Leonora's saloon, he paused for aninstant, and by an effort--for he was short of stature--raised himselfsufficiently to look in. It was enough. Seated side by side were thosewhom the Count de Rouvri had well termed the two most beautifulpersons in Italy. But at the farther side of the saloon was one ofLeonora's maids busily plying the needle.
Had Eve refused to taste the forbidden fruit in Eden, Satan couldhardly have felt more rancorous disappointment than that friarexperienced at what he saw.
That night passed, and the following day; but when evening came, thevilla on the hill blazed with lights; the gardens were illuminated,and gay groups were seen in the long saloons and on the terrace, andin many a part of the gardens. Many a tale of love was told thatnight, and many a whispered word was spoken that decided fates forever. There was much pleasure, much joy, some happiness; but therewere pains and heartburning also.
It was toward the end of the entertainment that Eloise, passing alongwith the young Marquis de Vibraye at her side, came suddenly upon herhusband leaning against one of the pillars of the door which led outupon the terrace. De Vibraye was one of those peculiarly obnoxious toLorenzo, for there was a braggart spirit in him which sported withwoman's fame in the society of men with little heed of truth orprobability. There was a look of triumph on his face as he passedLorenzo with hardly an inclination of the head. But he went not far;for his foot was not on the terrace ere Lorenzo's hand was on hisshoulder.
"A word with you, seigneur," said the young prefect, and drew him tosome distance.
"Well, my lord," said De Vibraye, with a cheek somewhat pale, "what doyou want with me?"
"But little," replied Lorenzo. "I gave you a sufficient hint in Romethat your society was not desired within my doors. I find you here. Ifyou are in Imola to-morrow at noon, I will out off your ears, and turnyou out of the gates as a worthless cur. You had better go while youare safe."
He waited no answer, but returned to the side of his wife, who greetedhim in a fretful tone, saying--
"Well, this is courteous in you two gentlemen to leave me standinghere alone like a chambermaid!"
"Madame, you shall be alone no longer," answered Lorenzo, drawing herarm through his, and leading her back into the great saloon.
She did not venture to resist, for he spoke in a tone she had heardonce before, and she knew that when he used it he would bear noopposition. But a few minutes after, a cry ran through the rooms thatthe Countess Visconti had fainted.
"Bear her to my daughter's saloon!" cried Ramiro d'Orco, as Lorenzocaught up Eloise in his arms; "bear her to my daughter's saloon! Shewill soon recover. Here, follow me--make way, gentlemen! All the ladyrequires is cooler air; the rooms are too crowded."
"This way, Signor Visconti," said Leonora; and in a few moments Eloisewas laid upon a couch, and the door closed to prevent the intrusion ofthe crowd.
It was very like death; and Lorenzo and Leonora looked upon her withstrange and mingled sensations. There lay the only obstacle to theirhappiness, pale and ashy as a faded flower. Seldom has the slumber ofthe grave been better mocked; and yet the sight had a saddening andheart-purifying effect on both. So young--so beautiful--so sweet andinnocent-looking in that still sleep! They could not, they did notwish that so bright a link in the chain which bound both to the pillarof an evil destiny should be rudely severed. The maids who had beencalled tried in vain to bring her back to consciousness; and Ramirod'Orco, who had been gazing too with sensations differing from any inthe breasts of those around him, called the girls aside, and bade themseek the friar.
"He is skilled in medicinal arts," he said; "fetch him instantly."
Leonora pointed to the inanimate form of her lover's wife, and said ina low tone--
"Look there, Lorenzo! Is it not sad? There is but one thing to bedone. I will take refuge in a convent, lest evil dreams should comeinto our hearts."
"O forbear! forbear yet awhile!" said Lorenzo; but, ere he could addmore, Ramiro d'Orco had returned to their side; and a few minutesafter, Friar Peter was in the room. He approached the couch with aquiet, stealthy step, gazed on the face of Eloise, laid his hand uponthe pulse, and, taking a cup of water from one of the maids, droppedsome pale fluid into it from a phial, and, raising the head of hispatient, poured it into her mouth.
"She will revive in a moment," he said; "that is a sovereign cure forsuch affections of this bodily frame. Oppression of the spirit may beharder to reach, and, I should think, in this case there is somethingweighing heavy on the heart or mind."
Lorenzo kept silence, though he thought that the friar had perhapsdivined aright.
At all events, his remedy, whatever it was, proved effectual. Afterabout a minute, Eloise opened her eyes, and looked around her faintly."Where am I?" she said. "Oh, is that you, Leonora?"
"How are you, madame," said Ramiro d'Orco; "you have swooned from thecrowded rooms and overheated air. I trust you will be quite wellshortly."
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"I am better," she said, "much better, but very weak; I would fain gohome. Let some one bring my litter."
"I will go with you," said Lorenzo. "I beseech you, signor, have myhorses ordered. But, ere we go, I must thank this good friar for hismost serviceable aid. That for your convent, father," he said, drawinghim aside and giving him money. "I thank you for your skilful tendanceon my wife; but I think that perhaps your counsels might, as youhinted even now, be as good for her mental condition as your drugshave been for her bodily health. I will pray you, therefore, goodfather, visit her tomorrow towards noon. You can explain your comingas a visit to a patient rather than a penitent; but if you can inspireher with somewhat more careful thought regarding her demeanour in theworld, you will do well."
"But the lady knows not yet that I tended on her," said Mardocchi;"let me speak with her again before she goes."
He then approached the side of Eloise, and once more laid his fingerson her pulse.
"Not quite recovered yet," he said, with a grave air; "give me somewater. A few more drops will, I trust, complete the cure, daughter;"and he took the phial from his gown.
"Not here, friar--not here!" whispered Ramiro d'Orco.
But Mardocchi put him back with his hand, dropped out some more of theliquid, and gave it to Eloise, saying:
"This will restore you perfectly for to-night. To-morrow I will seeyou again, to know how you are then."
It was on the following day toward noon that Friar Peter entered theEpiscopal Square, and approached the palace which had been hired forLorenzo Visconti. He walked with downcast eyes and a thoughtful look,but none of the townspeople who passed him attributed any very high orholy meditations to the friar; for the Italians, especially of thelower class, are the most clear-sighted persons in the world into thedepths of human character. "What is he calculating?" they thought;"what is he scheming now?"
With a quiet, almost noiseless step, he approached the wide gates ofthe palazzo, and asked for the signora.
"She is in the hall above with some French cavaliers, father," repliedthe janitore; "you can go up."
"I would rather see her alone," answered the friar; "I attended uponher last night when she fainted at the Villa Ramiro, and wish to speakto her about her health. Can you not call her out of the hall for amoment?"
The porter led him to the door of the hall, and, leaving him there,entered alone. He was gone but a moment, and then returning, led thefriar up another flight of stairs to Eloise's chamber, where he lefthim, saying that his lady would be up in a few minutes.
He closed the door when he departed, and Mardocchi gazed around himwith no small curiosity and interest. There were many ornamentsscattered round the room--little works of art, beautiful trifles andinvaluable gems. Mardocchi remarked all, examined all, and handled nota few. Among the rest he took up the small picture of Lorenzo'smother, which the young prefect had left there on the night of hisarrival. He gazed at the face for a moment or two, seeming to havesome faint remembrance of the features, and then examined the casewith some curiosity. He was not long in discovering the spring bywhich the back opened, and the powders and inscription were exposed toview.
"A cure for the ills of life!" he said: and then, as if somethingwhich required thought suddenly struck him, he seated himself, andwith his eyes fixed upon the case, fell into profound meditation.
The reader will remember that there was a smaller chamber next to thatof Eloise; and a door of communication between the two. As the friarsat there thinking, that door moved slightly on its hinges, and achink appeared through which one might have passed a Spanish crownpiece,--no larger.
A few minutes after, the countess entered. Mardocchi had the picturewith the case still open in his hand; but he laid it not down as mighthave been expected. On the contrary, he rose from his seat, and,bowing his head, said, with a humble air:
"I have committed a great indiscretion, Madonna, I took up thisbeautiful portrait to look at it, when suddenly, I know not how, itcame open as you see."
"Oh! that is the picture of my husband's mother," said Eloisecarelessly; "I found it here two or three days ago. I cannot tell howit came here, for he carries it usually in his bosom. But what is thatlittle box behind? I was puzzling over these powders and theinscription only yesterday, but could make nothing of them."
"Let me see," said Mardocchi, carrying the case to the window, as iffor a better light.
He remained for a moment or two with his back to the lady, apparentlyexamining the powders, and then brought the case back, saying:
"They are apparently love powders."
"Then I will take one of them," said Eloise, laughing; "I am sure Ineed them."
"For Heaven's sake, forbear, Madonna," said Mardocchi; "I don't, knowwhat they are--I only guess. God help us! they may contain poison, inthis wicked age."
"Well, well, I will put the case back in his dressing-room," saidEloise; but the friar stayed her, saying, "Better leave them where heleft them, my daughter. I have but a few moments to stay, and I wishto inquire after your health.
"Oh! my health in excellent, good father," replied the lady, lightly,"thanks to your skill; I believe it never was better."
"Permit me to feel your pulse, Madonna," said Mardocchi. "Let me see.This is the ninth day of the moon; and, from the eighth to thefourteenth, some mild and calming remedies are useful. Your pulse issomewhat agitated."
"Well it may be," said Eloise; "my husband is in a mighty sweethumour, father. He takes offence at the slightest trifles; and, on mylife, if I did not know him noble at heart, I should think, as yousaid, that these papers contained poisons, and that he had left themhere that I might try their virtues myself."
"That were easily tested," said Mardocchi, with an eager look. "Giveone of them to some of your maids; bid them put it in a piece of meat,and throw it to a dog. If they be venomous, the venom will soon do itswork. Here, give her this one at the top;" and, taking one of thepowders out of the case, he laid it down on the table.
"And, now again, Madonna, as to your health," continued Mardocchi;"you are not so well as you think yourself. A malady affects youproceeding from some shock to the spirits, which will return atintervals of sixteen hours, unless you do something to arrest itscourse. It may be very violent indeed, and attended with sore painsand terrible suffering; but I can prevent its having any fatal effect.Let me calculate. Last night you had the first slight attack at aboutten o'clock; a stronger one will seize you at two to-day. It is nowtoo late to avert it entirely; but if in an hour's time, you will takethis powder which I now give you--mind! do not confound it with theother, which is to be tried upon the dog--you will find the paroxysmsmuch mitigated. Do not be alarmed, though you may suffer much, for atthe moment when the convulsion seems most strong, it will suddenlycease, and you will sleep quietly."
Eloise gazed at him with surprise and even alarm.
"I feel quite well," she thought; "what can this mean? And yet I feltquite well five minutes before I fainted last night. Well, the monksoon cured me then, and I will follow his counsel now. In an hour,father, did you say?" she asked aloud.
"Ay, in an hour," replied the friar; "that will just give me time totry one of those other powders on a dog. I shall like to hear theresult, and will see you again to-morrow, when I trust I shall findthis malady is quite vanquished. You then can tell whether those inthe case are safe. They are probably very idle drugs."
"I will have them tried, good father," replied Eloise; "and nowfarewell."
"Shall I send one of your women to you, Madonna?" asked the friar; andthen he added with apparently a sudden change of thought, "It may beas well not to say how you came by the powders, or why you wish thistrial made. It might lead to injurious suspicious."
"True--true," said Eloise, in an absent tone. "I will say nothing.Send one of them here. You will find them in the end room of thesuite. Farewell."
Mardocchi left her, and speedily found the chamber where her womenwere at work. His quick ey
e glanced over them, and fixed upon one hethought suited to his purpose.
"I wish to speak to you, signora," he said, beckoning her into thecorridor; and when she laid down her work and followed him, he addedin a low tone, "The countess wants you in her chamber. She may saylittle to you in her present mood, and therefore I wish to warn you tobe careful what you do. Her husband has left her some powders to take.She is doubtful of what they are, and wishes to have one of them triedupon a dog before she swallows them. Give it in some meat, and don'tlose sight of the animal till you see the effect. Then return to yourlady, and tell her what you have seen. But talk with her as little aspossible, for she is unwell."
In the meanwhile, Eloise sat alone in somewhat sad and solemnmeditations. If there be sympathies between the beings of this mortalworld and those unclogged with clay--if there be warnings conveyedwithout voice, or impulses given from a higher sphere, it is naturalto suppose that they are more clearly heard, more keenly felt, when weare approaching near the world from which they come. Eloise was verysad--the lightness of her character was gone. She was serious now foronce, and thoughts unwonted, undesired, had full possession of her.
Who is there that can review even a few years of his past life withoutfinding many things to regret? And oh! what a sad retrospect did thelast two years afford to Eloise Visconti! How many an act worthy ofpenitence, if not remorse--how many a blessing cast away--how many anopportunity neglected!
She tried to shake off that painful, self-reproachful mood; but itclung to her; and when the woman entered, she hardly saw her.
"What are your commands, Madonna?" asked the girl.
Eloise started, and then, taking one of two small packets whichlay at some distance from each other on the table, she held it out,saying--
"Put that in a piece of meat, and give it to one of the dogs. Comeback and tell me if it lives or dies."
The girl took the paper and departed, but not without remarking thatthere was another packet of much the same shape and size upon thetable.
Eloise fell into thought again, and was soon as completely absorbed inmeditation as ever. She knew not how long the girl was absent; but atlength she returned, saying, with a look of some consternation--
"Madam, the poor dog fell into great agonies and died in about threeminutes."
"Ha!" said the young countess; "thank God! I now know what they are."
"I thank God too, Madonna," answered the girl; "how can any one be socruel?"
"Cruel or kind, as the case may be, Giovanetta," replied her mistress,"when life is a burden, he is kind who takes it off our shoulders."
"But oh! Madonna, for a husband to----!" said the girl.
But Eloise waved her away, saying, "Go, girl, go; you know not whatyou talk of. Leave me!"
The girl went unwillingly, for she liked not the change fromlight-hearted mirth to stern sadness in her gay mistress; and shewould fain have taken the other powder with her, but she dared notdisobey.
"What means this deep gloom that is upon me?" said Eloise to herself,as soon as the girl was gone. "It must be the approach of the attackthe friar mentioned. It is time to take the medicine--nay, more thantime, I fear. I will swallow it at once, though I love not drugs. Thisat least has life in it--not death;" and, with that conviction, shemixed the powder Mardocchi had left with some water, and drank it.
"It is very sweet," she said, "but it burns my throat;" and, seatingherself, she took up a book of prayers and began to read.
Ten minutes after the silver bell rang violently once and again, forthe maids heard not the first summons. At the second, Giovenettastarted up and ran to the chamber of her mistress; but, as sheapproached, she heard the sound of a heavy fall, and when the door wasopened, she and another who followed found Eloise upon the floor instrong convulsions.
"Oh, she is poisoned!" cried Giovanetta, wringing her hands.
"My husband! my husband!" murmured Eloise, with a terrible effort: "myhusband; tell him I never sinned against him as he thought--tell him Ihave been faithful to him--oh, girls, raise me up! I am choked--Icannot breathe."
They raised her and laid her on her bed, and for a moment or two sheseemed relieved; but then a still more terrible paroxysm succeeded,and, ere any assistance could be sought, the light, thoughtless spiritpassed away to seek mercy at the throne of God.
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