"It is such a long story, Hugo," said Beltrami, a trifle maliciously, "that we must really have some wine."
"I do not want wine; I want 'The Thousand and Second Night.'"
"Bene! you shall have both."
The Marchese arose and summoned his servant, who brought up a bottle of Barbera, that rough-tasting wine which is so pleasant and cool in hot weather. For the sake of companionship I took some with Beltrami, and haying thus attended to the duties of hospitality, he signed to his servant to withdraw, and without further preamble began his tale.
"Eh, Hugo, mon ami," he said, settling himself comfortably in his chair, "this would be a charming story for M. Bourget, that modern Balzac, who analyses the hearts of the ladies of this generation in so masterly a fashion. Dame! I would like to give him Madame Morone's to dissect--he'd find some strange things there. Yet--would you believe it?--this woman, worthy to be a sister of Lucrezia Borgia, came out of a convent to marry my poor friend Morone."
"You knew him then?"
"Ma foi! I should think so, for many years. People said he was mad, but the only mad action he committed, to my mind, was in marrying Giulietta Rossana."
"Yet you propose to do the same thing?"
"True, but I possess a means of taming this tigress of which the unfortunate Giorgio Morone knew nothing. He was a great chemist, this poor Count, and particularly fond of toxicology, a dangerous science with such a wife, as he found out to his cost. Cospetto! I would not care myself about forging weapons for another to use against me, but that is exactly what Morone did."
"She poisoned him?"
"Eh! nobody says so, yet everybody thinks so. For my part, I believe the Contessa capable of anything. At all events, Morone died very suddenly, and was duly buried in that old ancestral vault to which his devoted wife, a year after his death, paid a visit. Well, before he died, Morone grew suspicious of the Contessa, and as he had just invented or rediscovered a poison which left no trace of having been used, and also an antidote to the same, he determined not to give the Signora an opportunity of exercising it on him, so this toxicological secret was buried with him."
"Ah! I see now why she went to the graveyard. It was to get this poison."
"Exactly! Whether it was put in the coffin of the dead man, or merely hidden in the vault, I don't know, but we will go and see."
"To what end? She has the poison!"
"Certainly! I believe that, after seeing it exercised upon Pallanza; but she has not got the antidote."
"How do you know that, Beltrami."
"Because the Contessa knows nothing of the existence of the antidote. Morone talked enough about the poison itself, but he only mentioned the antidote to one man, and that was myself. You see, Hugo, he thought madame might try a little of his own poison on himself, in which case I would be able to give him the antidote."
"Couldn't he have taken it himself?"
"No! this poison does not kill unless given in a large quantity; five drops make you feel chill and listless; ten drops take away your senses and converts you into what I may paradoxically call a breathing corpse; but fifteen drops kill. So, if madame had given her husband fifteen drops he would have lapsed into a stupor and died, unless the antidote was given, so that is why he bestowed it on me."
"Well, but she killed him after all?"
"Yes, but with another poison not of home manufacture. Eh! what would you, Hugo, the Contessa was not going to be thwarted by a husband who kept his laboratory locked. However, he tricked her over this particular poison, for he either gave instructions that it was to be put into his coffin without the knowledge of his dear wife, or he hid it himself in the vault, as he hinted to me one day he intended to do."
"There's no doubt then that the Contessa went to the vault for the poison; but what about the antidote? Is it in your possession?"
"Unfortunately, no, mon ami. I was ordered away from Verona, and gave back the antidote to the Count; but on my return here, I heard casually that he had left a letter for me, to be delivered after his death. I went to Rome, where the Contessa was one of the ornaments of the Court, and asked for the letter. Of course she denied ever having heard of it."
"And what do you think was in this letter?"
"Eh! ma foi, I believe it told me where the poison was hidden in the vault, and that our dear Contessa found the letter, went to the vault on the night you saw her and obtained the poison."
"Also the antidote?"
"Dame! I'm not so sure of that. I knew about the antidote so well that I don't think Morone would have mentioned it in the letter, in case it should meet the eye of his wife. No! No! mon ami! she has the poison, of course; but the antidote, I believe it is still in the vault, where we will look for it."
"For what reason?"
"Diamine! to revive this devil of a tenor who has had the misfortune to take ten drops of the Signora Morone's mixture."
"But where is Pallanza?"
"All in good time, Hugo, all in good time. I must tell you the rest of the story first."
"I am all impatience, Beltrami."
The Marchese, I saw, was enjoying this conversation, as the subject-matter was of an involved and difficult character which appealed to the subtleties of his Italian nature; and the chance of playing a part in this intrigue, worthy of the Court of Lorenzo di Medici, delighted him beyond measure. He was, as I have said before, an anachronism, and this everyday, commonplace life of the nineteenth century offered no field for the exercise of his cunning brain and delicate diplomacy, which revelled in those bizarre complications, full of sophistry and double meanings, which distinguished the intricate statecraft of the Italian republics.
"You wonder," continued the Marchese reflectively; "you wonder, no doubt, after hearing my opinions about the Contessa Morone, that I should care to marry her; but, as I told you before, there are reasons. I am poor, she is rich, and I marry her for her money. This is brutal is it not? but then you see I look at the matter from a Latin point of view, you from an English. As Euclid---whom, by the way, I always hated--says, 'Two parallel straight lines cannot meet,' it is no use our arguing over this point, as neither of us would convince the other. It is a question of race, Hugo, nothing more. Ebbene! my other reason is that I wish to tame this woman with the heart of a tigress. I am wearied of the dulness of this present life, and the task of fencing with Signora Morone will be a perpetual excitement, particularly as I know it will not be unattended with danger. This is also a question of race, and the theory of straight lines applies, so again we will not argue; but you can see one thing plainly, that I want to marry the Contessa?"
"Yes, I can see that, and I wonder at your daring."
"Straight lines, for the third time, Signor Hugo. Ebbene! Although I wanted to marry the Contessa, she hating and detesting me with her whole soul, as a friend of her late husband, would not listen to me at all, so as she would not go to the altar willingly, I determined to force her there. I made it my business to find out all about her life, and a devil of a life it is, I can tell you. Pallanza is not the first lover this daughter of Venus has smiled on."
"Oh!" I broke out in disgust, "how can you think of marrying this infamous woman--a murderess, a poisoner, a fiend in human form?"
"Dio! I have given you my reasons, and you, straitlaced Englishman that you are, cannot understand them. However, we will talk of this again; meantime to continue. The Contessa was so madly in love with Pallanza, who I grant you is a handsome fellow with a charming voice, that I foresaw when he attempted to leave her there would be trouble. I discovered that he was engaged to some Signorina of Milan, that she was at Verona, and that Pallanza was going to sing at Verona; so when he did arrive I was in nowise astonished at the appearance of Madame Morone at the Ezzelino. Things were coming to a climax, so I watched for the bursting of the storm. The rendezvous of these lovers would be, I knew, at the deserted Palazzo Morone. How did I know? Mon cher ami, you are simplicity itself. Have I not told you that I knew the Contessa when she lived at Verona with her husband, and--and--well it is not the first time she has used that palazzo and played at Boccaccian stories in that room. You know she fancies herself like Lucrezia Borgia, and tries to imitate those picturesque feasts to which Ferrara's Duchess was so addicted--yes, even to the use of poison. Dame! I thought I was at the opera when I saw that supper the other night."
"How did you get into the palazzo?"
"Ah, that is an adventure worthy of Gil Bias. I filed through a bar in the gate and wrenched it out."
"I thought so, for I entered the same way!"
"I guessed as much, my friend. Ebbene! I watched the palace from the time Madame Morone arrived in Verona, and my patience was rewarded on Monday night by seeing our picturesque tenor use his key and enter by the side door. I was not alone, for I greatly mistrusted Madame Morone should she discover me in that lonely palazzo; so, as I had two men absolutely devoted to me, I took them with me."
"They were very brave to go near that ghastly palace, considering the reputation it has."
"Ma foi, they are Florentines, and know nothing about Verona. Their ancestors have been in the service of mine for many years, and in their eyes a Beltrami can do no wrong. Now is that not wonderful in this present age of ducats and steam-engines?"
"So wonderful, Marchese, that I can hardly believe it!"
"Cospetto! it is true I tell you. These men are absolutely devoted to me, and think me a much greater man than Umberto of Savoy. Ebbene! I posted my two men in a dark corner of the palazzo with instructions not to move until I told them; then I went after our tenor, and found him strumming on the mandolin while he awaited the arrival of the Contessa."
"Ah! she had gone to the burial-ground."
"Yes! I did not know that until you told me. However, I hid myself behind the tapestry in the outer room and waited. The Contessa arrived, and, to my surprise, you also appeared. I caught a glimpse of you at the door before that torch went out, but, of course, I did not recognise you, and was puzzled to account for your presence there. Luckily, I had a bottle of chloroform in my pocket, which I took with me to the palace in case of accidents----"
"But what good would chloroform do?"
"Dame! have you ever seen Madame Morone in a rage?"
"No!"
"Then it is not a pretty sight, I can tell you. That woman is a devil, and, for all I know, might have had some one in the palace to do her bidding. If I had been found there, and taken at a disadvantage, I might have occupied that delightful pillar and never been seen again. Ah! you smile, mon ami, but remember this is Italy, not England, and with a woman like the Contessa, who recalls the Borgia times so admirably, it is always well to be prepared If she had discovered me, my chloroform might have come in useful."
"It certainly did in my case!"
"Ma foi, I've told you before I did not know it was you. I only beheld a stranger, and thinking that the stranger might interfere with my plans, I stole across the ante-chamber, and when you fell back--well, I used my chloroform. Then I left you lying hidden behind the tapestry, and went on watching Madame Morone at her Borgian supper. She was dragging Pallanza's body to the pillar, and, having safely shut him up there, departed with a satisfied smile on her face; so I was left alone with two apparently dead men--Pallanza in the pillar, and you behind the tapestry."
"A sufficiently dramatic situation I think, Marchese."
"Eh! no doubt. There is more drama in life---especially in Italian life--than people think, and there are even stranger events than this comedy of the Palazzo Morone take place in our midst."
"From what I have seen of your people, Luigi, I quite believe it. Well, about this dramatic situation--what did you do next?"
"Cospetto! I played my part on the stage with great judgment, I can tell you. When I was sure that Madame Morone had left the palazzo I re-lighted the candles, and went to see what appearance my man behind the tapestry presented. To my surprise I recognised Signor Hugo Cranston, and you may fancy I was considerably astonished, as I could not understand how you had become mixed up in this Boccaccian adventure. Friendship said, 'Revive him and apologize.' Caution remarked, 'Remove him from the palazzo, and let him think the events of the night a dream.'"
"Oh! and you adopted the advice of caution?"
"Diavolo! what else could I do? You might have interfered with my plans; and, besides, I always intended to give you an explanation when the Contessa became the Marchesa Beltrami. Circumstances, however, have brought about the explanation sooner than I intended."
"So I see," I replied drily. "However, you removed me from the palace."
"Yes! I called up my two men, and, telling them you were--well--overcome by Bacchus, ordered them to take you to the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele and leave you there. Ecco!"
"Oh, Beltrami."
"Eh, you reproach me. Well, I no doubt deserve your reproaches, but it was the best excuse I could think of, as it doesn't do to trust servants too much. Ebbene! they took you away and left you in the Piazza, where you awoke in the morning?"
"I did, with a confounded headache."
"Ma foi! that was the chloroform, no doubt. Having thus arranged your little matter I went to the pillar and released Guiseppe Pallanza."
"He was not dead, then?"
"No! She gave him ten drops, I tell you. So that, although he was not actually dead, he had all the appearance of a corpse. I could not revive him as I had not the antidote; so, when my two men returned, I had him brought here."
"Here! In this house?"
"Precisely! he is in the next room. We will go and look at him presently. But to continue: the next day I called upon the Contessa, and told her I had seen all, suppressing, however, the fact that I had carried off this unfortunate lover."
"Which accounted for her surprise to-day on seeing the pillar empty?"
"Of course; she never dreamed that I would meddle with her work. Well, I gave her a choice of either explaining her little adventure to the authorities, and thus run a chance of being imprisoned for life, or of becoming my wife. Of these two evils she chose the least; so now I am engaged to marry her, and she will become the Marchesa Beltrami next month. Interesting, is it not, Hugo?"
It was no use arguing with this man, who, as he said himself, looked at the affair in a totally different light from what I did, and I did not know whether to loathe his brutal candour, to despise his mercenary designs, or to admire his undoubted courage in marrying this woman. However, I reflected that his subtle intriguing would undoubtedly be sufficiently punished by his marriage with this tigress of a Contessa, and as my only desire was to restore Pallanza to the arms of Bianca, I neither condemned nor praised Beltrami's singular conduct, which seemed admirable in his own eyes, but simply complimented him on his adroitness in following the precepts of Niccolo Machiavelli. He listened to my cold remarks with a disbelieving smile on his face, and laughed mockingly when I ceased speaking.
"Eh! Hugo, you do not approve of my ideas? Well, I do not wonder at that Fire and water are not more different than an Italian and an Englishman. Your cool blood comes from generations of church-going, straight-laced ancestors, whose beliefs ruled their lives in a simple manner; but my fiery blood burned in the veins of those condottieri of the Renaissance who were at war with King and Pope and Republic, who constantly stood on the verge of unseen precipices, and who needed all their craft, their courage, and their iron nerve to preserve their lives and fortunes. Dame! let us talk no more of such contrasts, but come with me, and I will show you this missing lover of Madame Morone."
I acquiesced eagerly in this proposal, and followed Beltrami, who led me into his bedroom, and, having unlocked a door in the opposite wall, ushered me into a small, bare apartment, containing a bed on which lay the still form of Guiseppe Pallanza. There he was dressed the same as on that fatal night, with his eyes closed, a frozen look on his white face, and his hands crossed on his breast. Lying thus in his antique garb he put me in mind of one of those coloured statues which adorn the tombs of great men; where the face, the hair, and the vestments are all tinted so as to produce the semblance of life. But was life here, in the body of this young man, who lay so passively before me with closed eyes as though he were indeed buried in some sepulchre of the dead?
"Oh! he is alive," said Beltrami, guessing my thought as I shrank back from the bed; "it is a case of suspended animation."
"But lasting three---four days?"
"Dame, yes! It would last much longer, I have no doubt. Ten drops produce this life-in-death state which you see, fifteen drops the same thing; but the one ends in death after a certain time, the other does not."
"But why did you not go to the vault and find this antidote at once?"
"Well, to tell you the truth, Hugo, I thought it would be a useless errand, as I do not know where to look for it. I fancied that Madame Morone might have found another bottle of this damnable poison, but it never struck me until I heard your story that she had read the letter addressed by Morone to me, and gone to the vault for the poison."
"And what are we to do now?"
"Go to the vault, to be sure, and look for this antidote."
"But, the vault is locked!"
"True, I forgot that," said Beltrami, with a thoughtful frown, "however, I think I can procure the key."
"From Madame Morone?"
"Dame! No! that would put her on her guard at once. I want her to think Pallanza is still in this cataleptic state, otherwise she won't marry me, as my power over her will be gone. I'll get the key somehow; if not, one of my men knows something about picking locks, so we will take him with us."
"A reputable servant, truly!"
"Eh! What would you!" said Beltrami carelessly, as he led the way out of the room and locked the door. "Even lock-picking is useful on occasions--witness the present one. Well, are you ready to go to the vault with me to-night?"
"At night, Beltrami?"
"Most certainly. If we went in the daytime all Verona would be in commotion. No! we must go at midnight when no one is about. Have you the courage?"
"I think so! but I hope Madame Morone will not be there!"
"There's no fear of that, as she has no reason to pay a second visit to the remains of her husband. She has got the poison, and knows nothing about the antidote, so make yourself easy on that score. Ecco!"
"What are you going to do now, Marchesa!"
"See if I can obtain that key. If I fail to obtain it, I will bring Matteo with me. As for you, my friend, go and take something to eat, and meet me on the Ponte Aleardi at midnight."
"I will be there, Beltrami. Good-bye for the present."
"À revederci, Hugo; I am obliged for your confidence, as it has solved the difficulty of knowing what to do with Signor Cupid."
We both went different ways; Beltrami to search for his key, and myself to hasten home to my hotel, and prepare myself for the fatigues of this midnight excursion, which, however much it appealed to the Marchese's sense of the romantic, was certainly not relished by me.
Do you know that gruesome old ballad, with its sombre refrain of "Down! Down! Down among the dead men?" A friend of mine with a deep bass voice, used to sing it in order to display his lower notes, upon which--and not without reason--he flattered himself greatly; but in after years, I never heard it sung without a shudder, so vividly did it recall to my mind the grotesque horror of that midnight visit to the Tomb of the Morone, in that old burial-ground of Verona. Of late I had been so much mixed up with ghosts, vaults, ghouls and crimes, that I was by no means anxious to continue the category, and would have infinitely preferred to have let Beltrami, who liked such uncomfortable things, go alone; but being an Englishman, I had to uphold the honour of my country, so never thought for a moment of showing the white feather. Besides, the only chance of saving Pallanza was by obtaining possession of the antidote, and in spite of my repugnance to the errand, I fully made up my mind to be on the Ponte Aleardi at the appointed time.
Meanwhile I fortified myself against possible horrors by having an excellent dinner, supplemented by a small bottle of champagne. I could not afford that luxurious wine, and it was sinfully extravagant of me to waste my small stock of money upon such a thing, but in the face of this midnight adventure I really felt that a little stimulant would comfort me under the circumstances. The result was admirable, for all my nervous apprehensions disappeared, and I sat in the smoking-room puffing at my after-dinner pipe in a very contented frame of mind, considering what awaited me at twelve o'clock p.m. Was I a coward? I don't think so. Many men who have no physical fear, and would ride gaily enough into battle, shrink with superstitious awe from the eerie neighbourhood of the dead, and I, owing to the causes I have stated before, am of this class. Come, then, ye dauntless scoffers, who would dare anything--in the broad daylight, and let me see if you would contemplate a midnight visit to an antique vault with equanimity! I think not, for however brave a man may be, it is the law of Nature that he should thrill with fear at the approach of the supernatural.
I sat smoking and thinking in the twilight, which was a bad preparation for the event, as twilight thoughts are invariably mournful, and my own dear dead ones seemed to throng in the dusky shadow of the room, reproaching me in voiceless grief for the intention I had of profaning the sanctity of the Tomb. To rid myself of these melancholy reflections, and banish from my brain the mute crowd of ghosts, I went out for a walk, intending to call at the Casa Angello, in order to ask after the Signorina Bianca.
Petronella told me that the poor child was much better, but exhausted by the shock she had sustained at the Palazzo Morone, and had fallen into a deep sleep which would do her more good than all the drugs of the doctor. The worthy domestic was very wrathful at me, and wanted to know what I had told her "piccola," but I put her off with some excuse, as I had no desire that she should know the events of that day. On taking my departure I gave Petronella a note for the Signorina, which contained only three words, "Wait and hope," with instructions that it was to be delivered to her when she woke up. Petronella, somewhat mollified by my assurance that all would be right, promised to fulfil this commission, and I returned to my hotel very contented with the present aspect of affairs.
On regaining my bedroom I lay down about eight o'clock, in order to get a little sleep, but the remedy was worse than the disease, for when my eyes were closed the phantoms of waking hours reappeared still more vividly to my inner senses. However, I fought against the dread which threatened to overwhelm me, and fell into a comparatively dreamless slumber, from which I awoke shortly after eleven. Rising from the bed upon which I had thrown myself half dressed, I hurriedly completed my toilette, and bathed my burning face in cold water. On my arrival in Milan, I had bought one of those picturesque Italian cloaks which one only sees in England on the operatic stage, and throwing this around me; I put on a soft black wide-awake, so that what with the mantle draped around me, and my naturally dark face, I looked very much like a native of Italy. Lighting a cigarette, I took my heavy stick, and thus prepared, went out to keep my appointment with Luigi Beltrami on the Ponte Aleardi.
To the hot day had succeeded the hot night, but a strong dry wind was blowing which drove the filmy clouds across the face of the haggard-looking moon. A few stars peeped out here and there through the frail woof, and the chill moonlight waxed and waned with the appearing and disappearing of the pale planet, almost lost amid the wild confluence of drifting clouds. A misty circle round the moon was prophetic of rain, and under this wild, wind-vexed sky lay the sleeping city, dark and sombre, with the rough blasts sweeping drearily down the lonely streets.
In spite of the heat, so eerie was the aspect of the night that I drew my cloak around me with a shiver of nervous fear, and leaving the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, hastened along the Via Pallone, in the direction of the Ponte Aleardi. I arrived there just as the clock of St. Fermo sounded the three-quarters, and as Beltrami was not yet at the meeting place, I leaned on the balustrade of the bridge and watched the grey waters swirling under the fitful light of the moon. I could not help thinking of the strange events which had taken place since I had last occupied the same position--the antique chamber with its associations of love and crime--the Teatro Ezzelino, where I had beheld the phantom of Lucrezia Borgia--the grief and pain of poor little Bianca, and the extraordinary-conversation I had held with Beltrami a few hours before. It was all most unreal and feverish, this mediaeval intrigue into which I had been drawn; and I question if any student of singing had ever before been involved in such a bizarre adventure--an adventure which I hoped and prayed and trusted would end to-night.
Buried in these sombre reflections I did not hear the sound of approaching footsteps, and it was only when I felt a hand on my shoulder that I turned round, with a sudden start, to see the Marchesa standing beside me wrapped in his military cloak, and accompanied by a man who waited a little way off in respectful silence.
"Bravo, Signor Hugo!" cried the Marchesa in a cheerful tone, "you have been waiting long?"
"About a quarter of an hour. So you have not obtained the key, Beltrami?"
"Unfortunately I have not! However, here is Matteo, and I daresay we shall manage to get the door open in some way. Come, Caro," continued Beltrami, taking my arm, "we have no time to lose. Ecco!"
I do not believe Beltrami had any nerves, for the whole way to the burial-ground he chatted cheerfully about the antidote, the Contessa and the tenor, not appearing to be at all impressed with the solemnity of the affair. What Matteo felt I do not know, as he never opened his mouth, but glided after us like a shadow, until we arrived at the broken wall.
The Marchesa climbed over first, his long sabre clashing heavily against the stones as he jumped down on the other side. I followed without delay, and Matteo, having joined us, we went on through the dense shade of the cypress trees, until we arrived at the forbidding-looking tomb, the sight of which put me in mind of my uncanny adventure.
Beltrami, undeterred by the flaming sword of the guardian angel, tried the iron door, on the chance that it might be unlocked; but finding it fast closed, signed to Matteo to get to work at once. Without a word the man obeyed, and as the moon was now shining down in her full splendour, he could see perfectly well, without the aid of artificial light, for, although he carried a torch, Beltrami did not wish it lighted, in case the glare should attract attention.
While Matteo was working away at the lock I took my seat on the fallen stone near the door, and Beltrami, throwing off his cloak, flung himself down on the grass beside me.
"Dio, how hot I am!" he exclaimed, wiping his brow.
"And how very imprudent, Luigi. Remember, you are in uniform."
"Ma foi, I'm never in anything else," retorted the Marchese gaily; "don't trouble yourself, Hugo, no one will dare to come near the cemetery, at this hour, so, uniform or no uniform, I'm safe from observation. Will you have a cigar?"
"No, thank you. But you surely do not intend to smoke now?"
"Why not?" said Beltrami, lighting his cigar; "it cannot harm the Signori Morone, and I've no wish to go down into that evil-smelling vault without taking some precaution against fever. Ecco!"
"Oh, well, do as you will," I replied, indifferently, beginning myself to grow callous; "but I want to ask you something, Luigi."
"Ebbene!"
"Was Count Giorgio Morone really mad?"
"Eh! I'm not sure. Every one said he was, but I did not think so. Dame! they call every man mad who has brains above his fellows, and Morone was a clever man. Though, to be sure, it was curious his hiding this poison in the vault, instead of destroying it altogether."
"That would certainly have been the wisest plan."
"Very likely, but you see, my wise Englishman, Morone had a tenderness for this child of his brain, and he could not bear to destroy his work. Oh! inventors are wonderful egotists, I assure you."
At this moment Matteo, who had been working in silence for some considerable time, approached his master.
"Eccellenza, it is open!"
"Bene!" cried Beltrami, springing to his feet, and wrapping his cloak around him again, "give me the torch. Come, Signor Hugo, let us go down, and you, Matteo, stay at the door, and see that we are not interrupted."
"Si, Eccellenza!"
Beltrami stepped cautiously into the tomb, and I followed him, then half closing the iron door so that the light might not attract attention, he fired the torch, the flame of which shot upward with a red flare and resinous odour of smoke, showing us that we stood on the top of a flight of steep steps which led downward into the darkness. A chill, humid atmosphere pervaded this abode of the dead, and seemed to penetrate into my very bones, notwithstanding the heavy cloak I wore.
For a moment we paused on the height, looking downward into the thick gloom; then Beltrami descended the steps slowly, tossing the flaring torch up and down, to and fro, in order to illuminate the darkness, and as I followed him the smoke, with its pungent odour, streamed backward towards my face. A bat, startled by the glare, flew round our heads with a rapid sweep of its noiseless wings, then vanished through the half-open door into the night beyond, like some escaping spectre of the tomb.
At last we reached the floor of the vault, which was paved with broad black marble slabs, so highly polished that the crimson blaze of the torch was reflected therein. All around in niches were innumerable coffins, some covered with tattered velvet palls, while others stood out grim and bare in their leaden hideousness, the coverings having long since mouldered away. In the gloom, there every no w and then could be perceived the glimmer of some white figure sculptured on the massive wall, the glitter of tarnished silver ornaments, and the outlines of painted devices, while the smoky torch with its angry flame cast strange gleams upon these mouldy splendours of the dead.
In the centre, on a square stone hidden by a rich pall of black velvet, embroidered with armorial devices in silver braid, rested the gorgeous coffin of the last Morone, which I presume was to remain there until the death of the Contessa, when it would be removed to its already-prepared niche to make way for the sole survivor of the proud race.
The Marchesa at once advanced to the coffin, and waving the torch above it, examined the decorations closely. True to his determination he was smoking, and it gave me an unpleasant shock to see this cloaked figure behaving so disrespectfully in the solemn presence of the dead.
"Bene!" he said at length in a satisfied tone, "there is one thing certain. It is notinthe coffin!"
"How do you know that, Beltrami?"
"Because the lid is screwed down, and the Contessa, who as you say was alone, could not have taken that off. Besides, even if she did, Madame Morone knows the value of time too well to waste it in replacing the lid. No, it is not in the coffin, but it's somewhere about the coffin."
"What makes you think so, Luigi?"
"All this elaborate silver work! There's too much of it to be there without some reason. Caro, Hugo, just hold the torch and I will make an examination."
I took the torch in silence and watched his actions with great curiosity. The coffin, as he said, was most elaborately adorned with silver work representing the arms of the Morone family, interspersed with wreaths of flowers and tangled seaweed. On the lid was a broad silver plate similarly adorned, setting forth the name, titles, and date of death of the deceased, and round the oblong sides of this shell ran another broad wreath of flowers, shells, crests, and seaweeds, designed in the same style as the decorations on the lid. Beltrami, who was a clever prestidigitateur and could perform the most marvellous tricks with cards, had a wonderfully delicate sense of touch, and trusting to this more than to his eyes he ran his slender fingers rapidly over the raised silver ornaments on the lid of the coffin.
I saw at once that he suspected this useless silver ornamentation concealed some secret hiding-place in which the bottles of the poison and its antidote were hidden, and I could not help admiring the wonderful cleverness of the man in thinking of such an extraordinary idea, particularly as I saw at once that if the poison were anywhere it would be in some such ingenious hiding-place.
After running his hands twice or thrice over the lid, he shook his head with an angry ejaculation, and desisted from his apparently useless task.
"Dame! it's not on the top, that's certain," he said, stamping his foot with vexation. "My fingers never, deceive me, and I'm sure I haven't missed anything. From what I've told you I don't think it can be within the coffin. Ecco! let us try the sides."
He carefully wiped the tips of his fingers with his handkerchief, and beginning at the side nearest the head ran his fingers delicately along the cold silver work. Nothing was discoverable at the side, but when he came to the end of the coffin at the feet of the corpse he gave a cry of triumph which brought me at once to his side.
"Bravo, Hugo! what did I tell you! The poison-bottle was in the silver work. Behold, infidel, how truly I speak. Ecco!"
The decoration at this narrow end was a heart-shape shield, bearing the arms of the Morone family and wreathed with flowers, but this shield, which curved outward had a spring at the top. In touching this, the whole shield fell downward, working on a single hinge, and there was a cavity in which a small bottle might easily be concealed.
"I see the hiding-place, Beltrami; but where is the poison!"
"Eh! have you forgotten the visit of the Contessa, mon ami?"
"No, no! of course not! She, no doubt, took the poison away, and, I daresay, the antidote with it."
"Mon cher, I will never make anything of you," cried the Marchese in despair; "what did I tell you about that letter?"
"You said that no doubt as the Count was afraid of it being found by his wife he would only mention where the poison was concealed, and keep silent about the antidote."
"Ebbene! The Contessa knew nothing of the existence of the antidote, so when she found the poison she thought she had found all. Is that not so, you stupid Englishman?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Good! Well I, knowing of the existence of the antidote not mentioned in the letter, and only finding the poison at the feet, would naturally look for the antidote--where?"
"I daresay at the head," I suggested, after a pause; upon which Beltrami laughed, and walked to the other end of the coffin.
"Of course; it would be the most natural thing to do. Behold, mon ami!"
He touched the top of a similar shield at the head of the coffin; it fell stiffly outward, and lo! in the hollow of the curve, lay a small bottle, which Beltrami took in his hand, and then restored the shield to its former position.
"Luigi, you are a most wonderful man!" I cried, with a burst of genuine admiration at the clever way in which he had guessed this riddle.
"I only use my brains," he replied, with a gratified laugh. "The poison being at the feet, it was not difficult to guess the antidote was at the head; particularly as the decorations on both ends of the coffin are the same precisely. Dame! if the Contessa had only known the antidote was in existence she would have argued in the same way as I have done, and carried it off as she had done the poison."
"Well, we can now restore that unfortunate Pallanza to life."
"Yes, I suppose so," said the Marchese, slipping the bottle containing the antidote into his pocket; "though he certainly does not deserve to have another chance of existence. But as it is inconvenient keeping him in my house, I suppose I must send him away on his legs. Ecco! But come along, Hugo. We have what we desire, and I care not for this abode of death."
We went up the stairs and out of the iron door, where we found Matteo still keeping guard. It was quite a relief to get out of the fetid atmosphere of the tomb into the cool, fresh air again, and I felt like a released prisoner who was free for the first time after many years. The Marchese, however, man of iron as he was, did not seem to be affected in any way, but wrapping his cloak round him, prepared to go.
"Can you close that door again, Matteo?"
"Eccellenza! it is done!"
"Bene! Let us go!"
In fact the moment we emerged, Matteo, knowing our task was concluded, had reclosed the door by some trick known to himself; so we all three climbed over the broken wall, and took our way to the Ponte Aleardi.
"And when are you going to give Pallanza the antidote?" I asked, as we walked along arm-in-arm.
"Eh! Signor Hugo, to-morrow!"
"Why not to-night?"
"Ma foi! I am tired. A few hours will not make much difference; besides, I want a doctor to be present. The antidote will revive the poor devil, but he will be so weak after going without food all these days that the doctor will have to take charge of him."
"Well, then, I will see you to-morrow, Marchese. At what hour?"
"Two and a half in the afternoon. I attend to my military duties in the morning. Buona sera, Hugo!"
"Good-night, Beltrami."
We parted with a hearty shake of the hand, and I suppose after all I had gone through, nature was thoroughly tired out; for I went straight to bed and slept soundly without dreams, visions, or phantoms of any kind coming to disturb my rest.
For the first time during the week I had a good night's rest, for ever since my adventure the events in connection therewith had succeeded one another so rapidly that my brain was kept in too active a state to admit of slumber, but now that everything seemed to be at an end, that the antidote had been found, and that Pallanza would be restored to Bianca Angello, my mind was relieved of the strain upon it, and I slept soundly till morning. In fact, I did not waken till nearly eleven o'clock, and having taken my bath I dressed myself slowly, made a good meal at midday, and altogether felt better than I had done for the last week.
As my appointment with Beltrami was for half-past two I did not go to Casa Angello for my usual singing lesson, not wishing to see the Signorina until I could tell her the good news that her lover was alive and well. It was true Beltrami had asserted that the antidote would awaken the young man from his death-like slumber, but remembering that he had now been in this state of catalepsy for nearly a week, I felt doubtful as to the success of the experiment. However, a few hours would now decide the fate of Pallanza for life or death, and in the event of the antidote acting according to the expectations of the Marchese, I promised myself I should be the first to carry the joyful news of this wonderful resurrection to the Signorina Bianca.
When two o'clock struck I could no longer restrain my impatience, but set off without further delay to see Beltrami at his apartments. He had just returned from the barracks, and was taking some biscuits and wine when I was announced, but jumped up when he saw me and came forward with outstretched hand,--
"Eh! mon ami, I am delighted to see you! Sit down, while I finish this small meal. Will you have a glass of wine?"
"No, thank you, Marchese!"
"Then take a cigarette, there are some on that table."
The Marchese returned to his wine and biscuits, while I lighted a cigarette, and lay down On the sofa.
"Excuse me lying down, Luigi, but our last night's experience has knocked me up terribly."
"You would never do for a soldier, Signor Hugo! I've been drilling some stupid recruits all the morning, and I feel perfectly fresh. Ecco! I'm glad to see you, however, as I have some news to tell you."
"About Pallanza?"
"Eh? No! About Madame Morone."
"Ah! she has found out we were at the vault?"
"Dame! not a bit of it. She left Verona by the five o'clock train last night."
"Left Verona!" I cried, rising hastily from my recumbent position. "Why has she gone away?"
"Eh! who knows?" replied Beltrami, shrugging his shoulders. "She didn't even leave a message for me, her promised husband. I think, myself, the empty pillar of yesterday startled her. She evidently thought everything was discovered, therefore has gone to Rome so that she Can appeal to the King in case of trouble."
"And what are you going to do, Marchese?"
"The best thing I can do under the circumstances. I have applied for, and obtained, leave of absence, so I will give this infernal tenor the antidote to-day, and start for Rome by the night train."
"But when you arrive at Rome?"
"I will see Madame Morone, and tell her that I removed the body of Pallanza from the pillar."
"The body, Beltrami! You forget Pallanza is alive!"
"Of course he is, but I'm not going to tell her that. Cospetto! if she discovered that this devil of a tenor was still in existence my power over her would be gone, and she would not marry me. Ecco!"
"But as Pallanza will sing again, she is bound to find it out sooner or later."
"Eh! no doubt, Signor Hugo; but by the time she finds out I hope to be married. In that case it does not matter. Besides, I am going to make Pallanza promise not to sing anywhere for a month."
"Suppose he refuses?"
"He won't refuse. Dame! he owes me something for bringing him into existence again."
"And what about the doctor?"
"He will soon be here," said Beltrami, glancing at his watch; "I expect him every minute."
"Will he keep this affair quiet?"
"Per Bacco! I should think so, mon ami. I ascertained that before I told him anything. Not that I told him much, ma foi, no! I invented a delightful story about Pallanza, which he swallowed as easily as I do this wine."
"And the story?"
"I have not the time to tell it to you, but it is a beautiful story, worthy of Boccaccio. Oh, he will keep his mouth shut, I promise you, Hugo. He is a great friend of mine, and I never associate with those who talk of other people's business."
"Have you the antidote, Marchese?"
"Here it is," said Beltrami, rising and taking the small bottle from his desk near the window; "and, ma foi! here is the doctor coming up the street."
"How fond you are of French," I remarked, laughingly. "Parisian ejaculations are never out of your mouth."
"One must ejaculate in some language, Hugo, and I've been so often in Paris that I've got into the trick in some way."
"What about London?"
"Your city of fogs! Eh! You know I cannot master your tongue, Signor Hugo. 'You are a beautiful mees; I loove you'--Dio! what a difficulty I had in learning those two sentences."
"Which are perfectly useless."
"I have not found them so. But here is Signor Avenza, the doctor I spoke of. Good-day, for the second time, my friend. Permit me to introduce Signor Hugo Cranston, an Englishman."
The doctor, a fat little man with a round smiling face and two twinkling black eyes, executed an elaborate bow, for which purpose he brought his feet smartly together in military fashion, and, having thus saluted me, rashly entered into a contest with the English language, which vanquished him at once.
"I spik Inglis," he said, mincingly. Then, with a gigantic effort, "Gif me your tongue! Ah! he is bad. Dis writing is your cure. Goot-day! I vil taake a leetle valk wis you agin."
Signor Avenza had evidently learned these choice English phrases for the purposes of his profession.
While this lesson in philology was going on the Marchese had opened the door leading into the room where Pallanza was concealed, and called to us to enter. Both the doctor and myself, obeying the summons, went through the bedroom, and soon found ourselves by the couch, whereon lay the still form of the young man, with that terrible death-in-life look on his white face.
"See, Avenza, this is what I spoke about," said Beltrami, holding up a small phial filled with a red liquid. "It is the antidote to the poison which this Pallanza was foolish enough to take."
"And all through a love disappointment," replied Avenza, lifting his eyes. "Ah! the poor young man!"
I now began to see the kind of story Beltrami had told Avenza to account for the condition of Pallanza, and I must say it did credit to his powers of invention.
"The amount of the poison he took was ten drops." went on Beltrami, uncorking the bottle, "so it will require ten drops of this antidote to revive him, but when the life is once more in him I suppose he will be weak."
"Most certainly," answered Avenza, nodding his head, "since you say he has been like this for nearly a week. But proceed, Marchese, I am anxious to see the result of this antidote."
Beltrami bent over the face of the unconscious man, and forced the teeth slightly apart with a spoon he held in his left hand. Having done this, he poised the bottle over the pale lips, and began to pour the red liquid drop by drop into the mouth.
Both Avenza and myself bent forward eagerly to watch the operation, and held our breaths with anxiety as the Marchese counted, slowly,--
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!"
The body made no movement, and Beltrami drew back, looking somewhat anxious.
"Dio! I am afraid ten drops are not enough!"
"Wait," said Avenza, taking his watch out of his pocket, and placing his fingers on the pulse of the seemingly-dead man. "You cannot expect this antidote to act at once."
The minutes passed slowly, and we all three remained with our eyes eagerly watching for some sign of life on that still face, while Avenza occasionally glanced at his chronometer.
"His pulse beats," he said at length in a low voice, "faintly, it is true, but still it beats."
I heaved a sigh of relief, but Beltrami remained silently looking at the face of Pallanza with an anxious frown.
"She cannot have given him fifteen," he muttered under his breath, "if So, he would have been dead by this time; but his pulse beats, so he is alive."
He looked irresolutely at the phial in his hand, and then turned to Avenza, who Was still counting the feeble pulsation of the blood.
"Doctor, I will give him three more drops!"
"Eh! and why not?" replied Avenza, raising his eye-brows; "as that is an antidote a few drops more or less cannot kill him after the dose of poison he has taken."
The Marchese made no further remark, but, bending forward again, he held the phial over the half-open mouth for the second time.
"One, two, three!"
This time the effect was magical; for after an interval of about two or three minutes, we saw a shudder run through the rigid body, the left arm jerked upward in a spasmodic manner, the face flushed crimson with the rush of blood once more flowing freely through the arteries, and at last the heavy eyelids lifted slowly. Pallanza gazed at us with a dazed, unseeing expression, then some tremendous force seemed to take possession of the body, for a spasm of pain passed over his face, a choking cry issued from his lips, and in a moment he was shrieking, writhing, twisting, rolling and plunging about the bed like a demoniac. All the nerves and muscles which had been dead and inert for so many days were now waking again to life, and the agony which racked his frame from head to foot must have been truly terrible. Both Beltrami and myself made a step forward to hold down this agonized body, but Avenza stopped us.
"The antidote is doing its work," he said rapidly; "the dead body is renewing its life throughout every particle. Wait! wait! the paroxysm will soon pass away."
The doctor was right, for in a short time the writhing stopped, the cries grew fainter, and at last, with a heavy sigh, the young man sank back on the pillows in a state of exhaustion, on seeing which, both Beltrami and the doctor ran out of the room to get some brandy, leaving me alone with this new Lazarus. During their absence he opened his eyes, to which the light of sanity had now returned, and spoke in a feeble voice,--
"Where am I?"
"With friends."
"And the Contessa?"
"She is not here! You are quite safe! Hush! do not speak, I beg of you."
Pallanza gave me a look of gratitude, then, closing his eyes, relapsed into silence. Avenza returned with a glass of weak brandy and water, which he gave to the young man in spoonfuls, 'while I went back into the sitting-room to see Beltrami, whom I found standing by the window with a frown on his face.
"Ebbene?" he asked, turning round.
"He is much better, and I think will soon be all right."
"That's a blessing. But what a nuisance! I want to go to Rome to-night by the five o'clock train, but Avenza tells me that Pallanza will have to sleep for a few hours, so I won't have an opportunity of speaking to him."
"Go with a light heart, my dear Beltrami; I will arrange everything."
"You will?"
"Yes; Pallanza can sleep in that room for an hour or two, then I will get a fiacre and take him to his lodgings. No one shall come near him but myself, and when he is quite sensible I will make him promise all you want."
"Bene! you are a good friend, my dear Hugo," said the Marchese, in a tone of relief; "but do you think he will do what you ask?"
"Most certainly! I can force him to obey me."
"How so?"
"By threatening to tell Signorina Angello about his affair with Madame Morone. She knows nothing as yet, and Pallanza is afraid of her knowing. Witness the lie he told about that note at the Ezzelino, asking him to come to the Palazzo!"
Beltrami, with his cynical estimate of the Contessa's character, was not at all disturbed by this somewhat blunt speech, but laughed cheerfully.
"Eh! Hugo. I think I will make you. Italian after all. Your plan is a good one, mon ami, so make Pallanza promise not to sing anywhere for a month, to leave Verona and keep quiet. By that time I will be married to the Contessa, and all will be well."
"I will arrange everything as you desire, Luigi."
"Excellent! Then that trouble is off my mind."
At this moment the doctor entered, rubbing his fat hands together with an expression of glee.
"Eh, he sleeps, this young man," he said in a satisfied tone, "he will sleep for one, two, three hours, then, if you like, Marchese, you can send him to his own house."
"Signor Hugo will attend to all that, Avenza."
"Bene! Well, Marchese, à revederci! And you, Signor."
"Wait a moment, Signor Avenza; I am coming too."
"Where are you going! Hugo?" asked Beltrami, looking at me in some surprise, and nodding his head in the direction of Pallanza. I crossed over to him, and while Avenza was getting his hat, whispered in his ear,--
"I am going to the Ezzelino to find out Pallanza's address, so as to know where to take him."
"Ah! a good idea! I will wait here till you return."
I accompanied Signor Avenza to the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, where we parted. I then went to the Teatro Ezzelino and found out Pallanza's address from the stage-door keeper. While I was returning to Beltrami's rooms I saw Peppino, and arranged with him to be at the Via Cartoni at seven o'clock that evening to take a sick gentleman away. At first Peppino objected, being, like all Italians, terribly afraid of disease, but I soon quieted his objections, and he promised to call as directed.
On returning to Beltrami I found him packing up, and at five o'clock he took his departure for Rome, promising to write me immediately he arrived, and in return I assured him I would let him know everything as soon as I arranged matters with Pallanza.
That young man slept until nearly seven, when he woke up and began to ask me questions as to where he was. I insisted upon his keeping quiet, telling him I was a doctor, and when Peppino arrived with his fiacre I wrapped him up in his cloak so as to hide his stage costume, and helped him downstairs to the carriage. We soon arrived at his lodgings, where, dismissing Peppino, I made Pallanza go to bed at once, and gave him a light supper, together with some weak brandy and water. After this he fell asleep, and I sat watching by his bed all night, wondering why I was such a fool as to do all this for a cynical man of the world like Beltrami, who would probably laugh at my good nature when all was over. Yet there was something about Luigi Beltrami which I liked; and in spite of his affected cynicism and his extraordinarily loose notions of right and wrong, I believe that he had a sincere regard for me, which regard I considered not the least curious part of his whimsical nature, seeing that my character was the antithesis of his own in every way. Perhaps it was by the law of contrast, or illustrated inversely the saying that "like draws to like;" but whatever was the reason, though we had nothing in common either in nationality or character, yet we were friends, and I leave this problem to be worked out by those who deny that such an enigma can exist.