It was scarcely eight o'clock in the morning when Signor Deodati was on his way to the residence of Mr. Van de Werve.
The old merchant was walking very slowly, with his eyes cast down. From time to time he shook his head, as if disturbed by painful thoughts. His countenance expressed dissatisfaction rather than sorrow; indeed, it might even be said to indicate angry and bitter feelings.
The servant who opened the door ushered him into a parlor and went to call his master. Deodati threw himself into a chair, covered his face with his hands, and was so absorbed in thought that he was not aware of Mr. Van de Werve's entrance.
"Good morning, signor," said the Flemish noble, saluting him. "Your early visit encourages me to hope that you have news of our poor Geronimo."
"Bad news, Mr. Van de Werve, bad news," said the old man, with tearful eyes. "Sit down near me, for I have not power to raise my voice."
"I notice, signor, that you are very pale. Are you ill?"
"My emotion has its origin in something worse than illness. Day before yesterday Signor Turchi asserted in your presence that Geronimo had lost a considerable sum at play, and that he had fled the country to escape my just indignation. Great as was my confidence in Turchi, I could not credit the truth of this revelation. I determined to seek in my nephew's accounts the marks of his ingratitude, or rather the proofs of his innocence. I passed a portion of the night in calculating over and over again; for the invariable result was so frightful that my mind and heart refused to accept the evidence of my senses. The sum lost in gambling by my nephew is incredible."
"What!" exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve, "then the Signor Turchi was not mistaken in his suspicions?"
"Ten thousand crowns!" said Deodati sighing.
"Ten thousand crowns!" replied Mr. Van de Werve. "Impossible! That is a fortune of itself."
"And yet it is true. There is a deficit of ten thousand crowns in the money vault of the house, and there are exactly ten thousand crowns unaccounted for on the books. Not a line, not a mark refers in any manner to the employment or destination of this sum. Evidently it must have been used otherwise than in the business transactions of the house, and as Geronimo himself told the Signor Turchi that he had lost a considerable amount at play, I am forced in spite of myself to admit the painful truth. Ten thousand crowns! Can neither virtue nor fidelity be found upon earth? A child whom I treated as my own son, whom I loved with blind affection, and over whose welfare I would have watched as long as I lived. And this is the return for all my love! Ah! signor, this ingratitude is like a dagger in my heart."
Mr. Van de Werve gazed abstractedly as if in deep thought. Then he said, seriously:
"You are truly unhappy, signor, and I commiserate your sorrow. How can it be possible? All is deceit and perfidy. Geronimo seemed the soul of virtue and loyalty; he lived with so much economy and conducted himself so honorably, that to those who knew him not he might have appeared either a poor man or a precocious miser. And this tranquil, modest, prudent young man loses at the gaming-table ten thousand crowns, the property of his benefactor! His laudable course of conduct was but a base hypocrisy!"
"And nevertheless," murmured the old Deodati, "my unfortunate nephew had a pure and loving heart! Might not his blindness have been the effect of one solitary and momentary error? Perhaps so. Man sometimes meets fatal temptations which attract him irresistibly, but to which he yields only once in his life."
"Why then did he fly, and thus acknowledge his guilt? No, signor, no excuse can palliate such misdeeds. I burn with indignation at the thought that such signal favors have met with such cold and base ingratitude. The idea of your affliction restrains me from speaking of the outrage done my daughter. Fortunately, the reputation and social position of my family is such as to screen it from the consequences of such an act. But, signor, I hope you will agree with me that there can no longer be a question of an alliance between my daughter and your nephew. He may return and obtain your pardon, but that will not change my determination. From this day forward the Signor Geronimo is as a stranger whom we have never known."
Deodati regarded the irritated nobleman with tearful eyes, and seemed to deprecate the inflexible decree.
Mr. Van de Werve took his hand, and said in a calmer manner:
"Be reasonable, signor, and do not let yourself be blinded by affection. What a dishonor to my name, were I to permit a man with so tarnished a reputation to enter my family! Could I confide the happiness of my good and noble child to one who was not withdrawn from a culpable love of play by life-long benefits? Could I accept as my son a man whom I could not esteem, whom on the contrary I would despise for his ingratitude to you? Acknowledge with me that such a union is impossible, and let us talk no more of it. Be still my friend, however, as long as you remain at Antwerp."
The merchant shook his head, and after a few moments' silence, he replied:
"Alas! I ought to admit that there is no hope of realizing this honorable alliance. What happiness Geronimo has staked on the cast of a die! I thank you, Mr. Van de Werve, for your proffered friendship, but I shall not remain at Antwerp. To-day I shall beg Signor Turchi to settle up the affairs of the house in this city. Now that I have no one in the world to care for, none for whom to work and amass money, I shall retire from commerce. I have ordered theIl Salvatoreto be provisioned, and I shall set sail by the first favorable wind."
"You are right, signor. By returning to your own beautiful country, you will the sooner forget this misfortune."
"God knows when I will revisit my country!" replied the old man.
"Are you not going to Italy?" demanded Mr. Van de Werve.
"No, sir; but to England."
"In search of your nephew? Signor Turchi led us to suppose that he had sought refuge in that island. I admire your unbounded love for a man so little deserving of it; but, signor, you require rest. Follow my advice: go to Italy, and do not shorten your life by the sorrows which may await you in England."
"The advice is no doubt good," replied Deodati; "but I cannot follow it. However guilty he may be, Geronimo is the only son of my deceased brother, whom I promised on his death-bed to watch over his child as if he were my own. Were I to abandon Geronimo entirely, he might be pushed by want and misery into the path of vice, perhaps of infamy. I will fulfil my duty to the last. If I love him less than formerly, at least I will save him from utter ruin."
"What generosity!" exclaimed Mr. Van de Werve, in admiration. "You travel about in search of your nephew; you endanger your health. I foresee that he has but to speak to obtain pardon. And this great sacrifice, this magnanimous affection meets with such a return! It is frightful!"
"No, sir," replied Deodati, "I will not pardon Geronimo. He will never be the same to me. Should I find him, or should he return to me, I will give him an income sufficient to keep him from want; that being done, I shall renounce the world and retire into a cloister, to await there in solitude and peace the time when it may please God to call me to himself."
Mr. Van de Werve heard the street-door open, and said eagerly to the old merchant:
"Signor, my daughter is at church and may return at any moment. I beg you not to speak of these things in her presence. Since the disappearance of Geronimo, she does nothing but weep and pray; no consideration alleviates her sorrow, nothing consoles her. If she were suddenly to lose all hope, it might cause her death. Heavens! Signor Turchi, what has happened to him?"
He arose hastily and regarded in astonishment Simon Turchi, who entered and attempted to speak, but the words seemed to die upon his lips; for he stood trembling in the centre of the room, uttering unintelligible sounds. He was pale as death.
Deodati arose also, and looked inquiringly at Turchi.
The latter said, hurriedly:
"I went to the house of the bailiff; he was not at home. He has been sent for, and he will be here immediately with his officers to accompany me to my garden. Oh! I have terrible news to communicate; but my mind wanders, I am losing my senses. I can tell nothing, particularly to you, Signor Deodati. Unhappy old man! Why did God reserve such a trial for your old age?"
"Another misfortune? Speak, Simon, speak," said Deodati, in suppliant tones, and trembling from anxiety.
Turchi fell, as if from exhaustion, upon a chair, and said, in a voice broken by sobs:
"No, signor, ask me nothing; I could not break your heart by such stunning tidings. Alas! alas! who anticipated such a misfortune? My unhappy friend! my poor Geronimo!"
A torrent of tears fell from his eyes, and while Deodati and Mr. Van de Werve begged him to tell the cause of big extraordinary emotion, he stammered:
"Oh! let me be silent; despair tortures my heart. I can tell no one but the bailiff; he will soon be here. If I could but doubt! But no, it is too true; there is no more hope! May the God of mercy receive his poor soul into heaven!"
"Of whom do you speak?" exclaimed Deodati. "His soul? Whose soul?Geronimo's?"
Steps were heard in the vestibule. Simon Turchi went to the door, and said:
"Here is the bailiff! He will know the secret which is breaking my heart."
The bailiff entered the room, looked around in surprise, and at last said to Simon Turchi, who continued to talk confusedly:
"You have sent for me in all haste, in order to make a terrible revelation; I am here with my officers. Have you discovered Geronimo's assassins? Speak, Simon, and tell us what you know."
"So horrible is this secret, messire, that my tongue refuses to tell it.Ah! if I could forever—"
"Calm yourself, signor," said the bailiff, with perfect self-possession."What have you learned?"
"But—but I must be alone with you. The news I have to communicate must not be revealed before Signor Deodati."
The old man said, with tearful eyes:
"You are cruel, Signor Simon! What could you say more terrible? You speak of Geronimo's soul; you announce his death, and yet you leave me in this horrible doubt. Speak, I conjure you."
All that Simon Turchi had said was only a deception practised upon his auditors, in order to make them believe that grief had affected his mind, and to prepare the way for his revelation.
At last he appeared to yield to necessity, and said:
"God grant that the frightful news may not afflict you as it did me! Listen! you know that two days ago my servant Julio left my service because I severely reproved his irregularities. This disquieted me, because I had noticed that he was pursued by some secret remorse. Just now, hardly a half hour ago, I left my residence, and was going towards the Dominican church to pray for my poor friend. On the way I thought of my servant Julio, and feared that in his despair he might have taken his life. When I was near the bridge, I heard my own name timidly pronounced. I turned and saw Julio. I commenced to reproach him with his absence, but putting his finger on his lips, he whispered:
"'Signor, I beg you to follow me; I have a secret to reveal to you.'
"His manner and tone of voice were so peculiar that I accompanied him to a retired spot. His revelation caused me such intense grief that I could hardly stand, and I was obliged to support myself against the wall as I received the confession of the penitent assassin."
A cry of horror escaped Deodati. Eager to hear the remainder, Mr. Van de Werve gazed fixedly upon the narrator. The bailiff was more calm—he listened attentively and nodded his head, as if he foresaw the conclusion of Turchi's narrative.
"I hardly dare continue," he said. "My soul revolts—but I must disregard my feelings," and in a more tranquil manner, he resumed:
"Shuddering with horror, I heard Julio say:
"'Master, I have committed a frightful murder. Remorse pursues me as a malediction from God. I shall put an end to my guilty life. In an hour I shall be in eternal torments, but I wish the body of my victim to be buried in holy ground. Go to your pavilion. In the lowest cellar, at the extremity of the subterranean passage, you will find the corpse of Signor Geronimo buried.'"
Tears fell fast from the eyes of Signor Deodati, and sobs convulsed his frame.
Turchi continued:
"'Signor Geronimo!' I exclaimed, in terror. 'Have you killed my poor friend?'
"'Yes, I put to death Signor Geronimo. I needed money to spend at the taverns, and you would not give it to me. I killed him in order to get the money he might have about him. Adieu! This very day all will be over with me.' Before I had sufficiently recovered from the shock to think of seizing Julio, he had disappeared. Probably, to-day—"
"Heavens!" exclaimed Simon Turchi, "I hear Miss Van de Werve."
"For the love of God, not a word in her presence," said Mr. Van de Werve.
Mary entered the room, looking around anxiously. She had seen the officers at the door, and she seemed to inquire of her father the cause of their presence.
She remarked her father's pallor and embarrassment. Simon Turchi looked down, as if in despair. Deodati covered his face with his hands.
A cry of anguish escaped the young girl, and she glanced in turns at her father, Deodati, Turchi, and the bailiff; but they each seemed anxious to avoid her eye.
"Go to your room, Mary," said Mr. Van de Werve.
"Give me this proof of affection. Ask nothing."
The young girl, struck by these evidences of some misfortune, ran to her father and exclaimed, joining her hands:
"Speak, father, and tell me what has happened. Leave me not in this terrible suspense. Tell me that they have not found Geronimo's dead body. Alas! he is dead! Is it not so?"
Throwing her arms around her father's neck, she wept bitterly, conjuring him to tell her the cause of their emotion.
Without giving her any explanation, Mr. Van de Werve attempted to lead his daughter out of the room; but she, like one crazed by grief, released her hand from her father's, fell upon her knees before Turchi, and exclaimed:
"By the love you bore him, signor, take pity on me and tell me what has happened to him. Let me not leave the room under the frightful conviction that he is dead!"
Turchi remained silent, gazing upon her with an expression of profound sadness.
"You, too, are implacable, inexorable!" she said, rising.
"But you, at least—his uncle, his father—will be more merciful."
She ran to the weeping merchant, gently forced his hands from his face, and conjured him, in piteous accents, to give her some information which would relieve the torturing suspense.
The old Deodati, still weeping, threw his arms around her neck, and murmured:
"God bless you, my child, for your love. Let us pray for him!"
Mr. Van de Werve had left the room to call Petronilla. He returned with her, and said to his daughter:
"Mary, go with your duenna. You must not remain here longer."
The young girl seemed not to hear her father's words, for she was immovable as if petrified by grief.
He added, in an impatient, severe tone:
"Mary, leave the room. I wish it; I command it. Obey me."
She arose and walked slowly towards the door. Tears flowed down her cheeks; she supported her trembling limbs by leaning on the arm of her duenna. Mr. Van de Werve feared she would lose consciousness before reaching her own apartment.
All, with the exception of the perfidious Turchi, were moved by compassion for the unhappy young girl.
As the duenna opened the door to let her mistress pass out, strange sounds were heard in the vestibule.
Mary started, and stepped back into the room, as though in presence of some apparition.
"It is his ghost, his spirit," she exclaimed, "arisen from the grave to demand vengeance upon his murderers!"
She gazed with intense emotion, then added, in accents of the wildest joy:
"He smiles upon me; it is himself! He lives! It is Geronimo!"
Pronouncing this cherished name, she fell insensible in the arms of her attendant, who, assisted by the bailiff, carried her to an armchair.
Signor Geronimo entered. His face was as pale and fleshless as that of a skeleton. The wound he had received in his neck appeared like a large spot of clotted blood—his garments were disordered, soiled, and blood stained. He seemed really a spectre just arisen from the tomb.
As soon as Turchi recognized his victim, he recoiled, uttering a cry of terror; and imagining that God had permitted a miracle in order to punish his crime, he extended his trembling hands to Geronimo, as if to implore pardon.
The young man cast upon him a look of disgust and contempt, and exclaimed:
"You here, assassin? Tremble, for the Supreme Judge will demand of you an account of my blood and of Julio's death."
A murmur of surprise and terror ran through the room; all eyes were fixed on Simon Turchi, who seemed crushed by Geronimo's words.
Having thus addressed Turchi, Geronimo rushed into his uncle's arms and embraced him in a transport of joy.
"Oh, unexpected happiness!" he exclaimed. "It is permitted me to see my uncle again in this world! I know you have suffered; you have suffered as a father deprived of his only child! No more sorrow now. I will repay you for your tender affection; I will love you; I will show my gratitude; I will venerate you. Ah! bless the God of mercy, who has saved me from the fangs of that tiger thirsting for my blood! But Mary, where is Mary? Ah! there she is! My beloved friend, what has happened?"
He ran to the insensible young girl, knelt before her, and endeavored to recall her to consciousness by every endearing epithet.
In the meantime Mr. Van de Werve aided the duenna in her exertions to restore animation. Taking advantage of this, Simon Turchi walked towards the door with the intention of making his escape; but the bailiff discovering his design, drew his sword and placed himself in the doorway.
Then Simon Turchi understood the fate awaiting him. He bowed his head and covered his face with his hands. He trembled in every limb, and his breast heaved with sighs of anguish. Every expectation of escape by flight, or by making an appeal for pardon, vanished as he beheld the indignant expression of the bailiff.
Mary at last recovered from the faint into which she had fallen. She looked around her in surprise, as if ignorant of what had happened; but when Geronimo's voice fell in joyous accents on her ear, a bright smile irradiated her countenance, and she exclaimed:
"It is not a dream! He lives! I see him once more! Geronimo! Geronimo!"
The young noble was too overpowered to do more than call the name of his beloved.
Only a few minutes had elapsed since Geronimo's entrance; all were too much moved to express their surprise in words. But the bailiff resolved to put an end to this harrowing scene by the performance of a painful duty.
He said, in an imperative manner:
"Signor Geronimo, be pleased to interrupt for a moment the expression of your happiness. By the authority of the law I ask you what has happened, and why you stigmatize the Signor Turchi as an assassin. Approach, and obey my order."
Turchi, foreseeing that his frightful crime was about to be revealed, writhed convulsively and was covered with shame and confusion. He dared not look upon his accuser.
"Declare the truth," ordered the bailiff.
"Five or six weeks ago," said Geronimo, "Simon Turchi told me that unforeseen circumstances made it an imperative necessity for him to raise the sum of ten thousand crowns, adding that if he did not succeed in obtaining it immediately, the credit of his house would be gone, and that he himself would be irretrievably ruined. He needed the sum, he said, only for one month. I lent him the ton thousand crowns, and at his earnest solicitation, in order to conceal the knowledge of this loan from the clerks, I made no entry upon the books of the transaction, but was satisfied with an acknowledgment in writing of the debt."
Old Deodati made an exclamation of joy, ran to his nephew, and embraced him affectionately.
"God be praised! Dear Geronimo, you restore me to life. That wicked man tried to persuade me that you had lost ten thousand crowns at play. You were too virtuous, too grateful for that, my beloved boy!"
"Observe the respect due the law, Signor Deodati. Continue your statement,Signor Geronimo."
"What an odious falsehood!" said the young man.
Then turning to the bailiff, he continued:
"When we last met in this house, Signor Turchi told me that a foreign merchant, who wished to remain unknown, would repay me the ten thousand crowns. I was to go to his country-house alone, and secretly to return the note I held, and receive reliable bills of exchange upon Italy. When I went, Julio, Simon Turchi's servant, pushed me into a chair prepared as a trap, in which my body was caught and held immovable by steel springs. Then Simon entered with a dagger in his hand; he took from me the note, and destroyed it in my presence. He attempted to stab me in the breast, but the blow was warded off by a copper amulet which I wore around my neck. I then received in my neck what I considered a mortal wound; I felt my blood flowing freely, and I bade, as I supposed, an eternal adieu to life."
Old Deodati, without being aware of it, had drawn his sword from the scabbard as if he were about to pierce Turchi to the heart; but he was restrained by a look of severity from the bailiff, although he continued playing with the hilt, and muttering in an undertone menaces against the murderer.
"I awoke to consciousness," continued Geronimo, "in a dark dungeon; I was lying beside a grave which had been dug to receive my remains. When Julio returned to bury my corpse, he found me living. He was about to kill me, but he recognized the amulet I wore around my neck, and I was saved. The old blind woman who gave me the amulet as a recompense for delivering her from the hands of the Moslems was Julio's mother. Last night Signor Turchi gave poisoned wine to Julio, who died in my arms, declaring to me that Signor Turchi hired Bufferio to assassinate me. I labored for hours before I succeeded in obtaining egress from the garden. Now behold me saved from a frightful death through the miraculous protection of God, and restored to all that is dear to me on earth!"
The bailiff's voice was heard, issuing his commands, in the vestibule. Turchi comprehended the order. He cast himself on his knees, extended his hands, and weeping, cried out:
"Oh! Messire Van Schoonhoven,—Geronimo,—I have been guilty of a frightful crime. I deserve your hatred, your contempt and death; but have pity on me! Spare me the shame of the scaffold; do not cover my family with eternal infamy. Exile me to the ends of the earth; but pardon, pardon, deliver me not to the executioner!"
Five officers of justice appeared at the door.
"What are your commands?" asked the chief.
"Bind the signor's hands behind his back!"
"Heavens! bind my hands like a thief!" exclaimed Turchi.
"Bind the hands of a nobleman?" repeated the chief in surprise.
"Execute my order immediately! This nobleman is an infamous robber and a cowardly assassin. Cast him in the deepest dungeon; he shall pay the penalty of his crime upon the scaffold."
The command was promptly obeyed, and Turchi, in spite of his resistance, was dragged from the room followed by the bailiff.
Mary and Geronimo wept with joy. Deodati claimed their attention saying:
"My dear children, let us fulfil a sacred duty of gratitude. God has so visibly protected innocence that the feeling of His presence in our midst overpowers me. Your hopes will become a reality. Let us pray!"
He knelt before the crucifix, bowed his head and joined his hands.
Geronimo and Mary knelt beside the old man, Mr. Van de Werve behind them.
For a long time they lifted their grateful hearts in thanksgiving to theGod of goodness.
It was six o'clock in the morning.
The height of the sun indicated that the warm season of summer had replaced the mild month of May. It was apparently a festival day at Antwerp, for through all the gates people poured from the surrounding country into the city. The streets were filled with persons of all ages, who, talking and laughing, hastened to the centre of the city, as though they anticipated some magnificent spectacle.
Before Mr. Van de Werve's residence was a compact mass of citizens who seemed impatient at the delay. Through a sentiment of respect, they were perfectly quiet, speaking in very low tones, and making way to afford a passage through the crowd every time that a cavalier or any notable personage presented himself for admission into the house.
The attraction to the centre of the city must have been very powerful, for the greater part of those who passed neither stopped nor turned their heads. Some approached, and learning upon inquiry as to the cause of the gathering, that Miss Van de Werve was about to leave for Italy, they immediately resumed their walk, as if the sight of this departure were no equivalent to the imposing spectacle they were going to witness. A few, however, remained in order to discover the real object of so large a concourse of people.
An old gray-headed peasant, after having listened to the conversation going on among the peasants, recognized in the crowd a man from his own village, who had been residing for some time in the city, near the church of Saint James, and who consequently, he thought, must be better informed than the others in regard to Miss Van de Werve.
He elbowed his way through the crowd until he reached his friend, struck him on the shoulder, and said:
"What is going on here, Master John, to collect such an assembly? I heard some one say that Miss Van de Werve was about to leave for Italy."
"Ah! Master Stephen," said the other, "call her Madame Geronimo Deodati."
"Is she married?"
"One would say, Master Stephen, that our village is at the other end of the world. Even the children of Antwerp bless this marriage as a striking proof of God's justice."
"I did hear, friend John, that God had visibly avenged virtue and punished crime. The assassin dies by a frightful death, and the victim becomes the husband of the noblest and wealthiest young lady in the marquisate. Do you know her, Master John?"
"Do I know her? She passes my house twice every day in going to church. I furnish the family with bread, and I have frequent opportunities of speaking with this amiable young lady."
"I would like to see her," said the old man, "but if I wait, I shall arrive too late at the public square."
"You need not fear," replied Master John. "The executioner's car will not leave the prison for an hour to come."
The peasant hesitated as to what he should do.
"Are you sure that the young lady will leave at once?"
"Immediately, Master Stephen. Mr. Van de Werve urges the departure—he wishes to be out of the city before the executioner commences his work."
"Why," said the peasant, "did they wait until to-day? In their place I would have gone long ago."
"Ah!" replied Master John, "here is another evidence of God's intervention in these terrible affairs. The vessel which bears them to Italy has been ready to sail for a week. During all that time the wind blew constantly from the south-west; it changed to the east only last night, so that their departure before was impossible. But the tide is high now and will commence to ebb at the very hour fixed for the death of the assassin. You see that God himself willed Mr. Van de Werve to remain here until his vengeance was accomplished."
"Does she go to Italy to reside?"
"Oh, no; she only goes on a wedding trip. She will return in the course of a year, when the impression of the perfidy and cruelty of Simon Turchi will be less painful. Back, back, Master Stephen, they are coming!"
From the crowd arose a joyous shout. Each was anxious to approach Madame Deodati. Those who did not know her desired to see the noble young woman whose name was so painfully connected with the bloody history of Simon Turchi, and who was esteemed a model of pure virtue, fervent piety, and ideal beauty. The neighbors and those who had the honor of knowing her collected in order to salute her, to bid her a respectful and cordial adieu, and to wish her a happy voyage.
Mary Van de Werve, now Madame Geronimo Deodati, appeared at the door accompanied by her husband. As soon as the people perceived her, loud and long acclamations greeted her; they waved their caps, clapped their hands, rent the air with their cries of joy, and strove to obtain a glance of the angelic features of the beautiful lady and the noble countenance of her husband, who had been so miraculously preserved, by the providence of God, from the hands of his cruel enemy, Simon Turchi.
Mr. Van de Werve walked by his daughter's side; the old Deodati was near his beloved nephew Geronimo. Then followed Mary's two married brothers and a large number of her father's near relatives and friends, as well as many Italians, Portuguese, and Spaniards, who wished to escort Geronimo to the ship.
When Mary heard the benedictions and joyous shouts of the people, and saw all eyes fixed upon her with looks of love, the blood mantled to her cheeks, and she modestly cast down her eyes. But immediately raising them, she saluted the crowd as a mark of her gratitude for their kindness. The multitude, at a sign from Mr. Van de Werve, opened a passage for the party, and they proceeded to the Scheldt amid acclamations testifying the love and respect they inspired. Their drive resembled a triumphal procession. The old Deodati was deeply moved. He seemed rejuvenated. A sweet smile was upon his lips, and he looked proudly upon Geronimo. Thus full of the thought of their future happiness, they reached the dock-yard. In the middle of the Scheldt was theIl Salvatore, decked with flags and rocking upon the waves as if conscious of the precious treasure about to be confided to it.
A part of the sailors were occupied in unmooring the vessel; even the harsh grating sound of the capstan could be heard on the wharf. The rest of the crew manned the masts, and they waved their caps in the air, shouting:
"Benvenuto! benvenuto! Viva, viva la nostra signora!"
At the same time the sound of five or six cannon from theIl Salvatoreboomed over the waters, prolonged by the echoes from either side as it floated down the river. The multitude replied by three cheers, and the last reverberation of the cannon was lost in thevivasof those on the shore and ships.
In the meantime parents and friends were bidding adieu. Many tears were shed, and it was with tearful eyes that Mary Van de Werve received upon her brow her brothers' kiss.
TheIl Salvatoreweighed anchor; the sails caught the wind, and the vessel floated majestically down the river with the tide.
Mr. Van de Werve, Deodati, and their two happy children, entered the bark which awaited them. Petronilla seated herself beside her mistress. They exchanged a last adieu, and the eight oars fell simultaneously in the water. The bark, under the strokes of the robust oarsmen, cut the waves in a rapid course.
At this moment Geronimo's eyes were filled with tears. Lifting his eyes to heaven, he said:
"Blessed be Thou, my God, for all the sufferings Thou hast sent me; blessed be Thou for Thy infinite goodness. I thank Thee for the wife it has pleased Thee to give me; she will be my companion in my much loved country. A thousand thanks for all Thy benefits!"
The bark had reached the galley. A ladder was lowered, and, aided by the sailors, the party ascended the deck. The pilot gave the signal, the sails were unfurled, the ship rocked for a moment as if courting the breeze, and then it rapidly cleaved the waves.
The cannon again boomed from theIl Salvatore, and again the acclamations of the crowd rent the air.
* * * * *
The sounds had hardly died away when the spectators, as if impelled by one thought, immediately retired, and made all speed to reach the central part of the city.
The crowd which left the wharf so precipitately soon arrived at the grand square, but they found it already occupied by so compact a mass of human beings, that it was impossible for them to penetrate it. As far as the eye could reach, there was a sea of heads; all the windows were crowded with women and even children; the roofs swarmed with curious spectators; the iron balustrades seemed to bend under the weight of the children who had climbed upon them.
A solemn silence reigned in the midst of the vast multitude. Not a sound was heard save the slow and mournful tolling of the death-bell, and at intervals a scream so piercing, so frightful, that those who listened to it turned pale and trembled. Every eye was fixed upon a particular spot, whence clouds of smoke curled in the air, and from which escaped the cries of distress.
What passed that day on the grand square of Antwerp is thus related by Matthew Bandello, Bishop of Agen, who lived at that period, and who wrote from the testimony of an eye-witness:
* * * * *
"Upon the appointed day, Simon Turchi was enclosed in the same chair and driven on a wagon through the streets of Antwerp, the good priest accompanying him and exhorting him. When they reached the grand square, the chair was removed from the wagon. The executioners lighted a slow fire, which they kept alive with wood, but in such a manner that the flames should not rise too high, but sufficed to roast slowly the unhappy Turchi. The priest remained as near to him as the heat permitted, and frequently said to him:
"'Simon, this is the hour for repentance!'
"And Simon, as long as he could speak, replied:
"'Yes, father.'"
* * * * *
Simon Turchi evinced great repentance and much patience, and he accepted with resignation the painful and infamous death to which he was condemned. When it was certain that he was dead, his body, partially consumed, was conveyed outside the city gates and attached to a stake by an iron chain. The dagger with which he had stabbed Geronimo was thrust into his side. The stake was so placed on the public road that it could be seen by all who passed, in order that the punishment inflicted for murder might serve as a warning to others, and prevent the commission of infamous crimes.
[Footnote 1: "All the foreign merchants who resided at Bruges, with the exception of a few Spaniards, established themselves here about the year 1516, to the great disadvantage of Bruges and to the advantage of Antwerp."—Le Guicciardini,Description of the Low Countries. Arnhem, 1617, p. 113.]
[Footnote 2: C. Schibanius, in hisOrigines Antwerpien Sum, says that he has often seen in the Scheldt twenty-five hundred vessels, many of which were detained at anchor for two or three weeks before being able to approach the wharf.]
[Footnote 3: The stables, and coach-houses used by this company for transportation still exist at Antwerp. Although they are now occupied as barracks, they preserve their original name—Hessenhaus.]
[Footnote 4: See the statistics of population given by Schibanius in theHistory of Antwerp, by Mertens & Torfo, Part IV., ch. v.]
[Footnote 5: The inhabitants of Antwerp are experienced and skilled in commercial affairs, and although they may not have left their own country the greater part of them, even the women, can speak four, five, and sometimes seven different languages.]
[Footnote 6: "The nobles of Netherlands do not engage in commerce like theItalian noblemen from Venice, Florence, Genoa, and Lucca."—L.Guiccardini,Description of the Low Countries, p. 140.]
[Footnote 7: "Two well-known Italian merchants, both of noble birth, natives of Lucca, who were great friends." Van Mertens,History of the Low Countries, Vol. I.]
[Footnote 8: The bailiff (schoat) was the representative of the prince in the prosecution of crimes. He alone, and his agents by his orders, could make arrests, except in cases of flagrant crime or of persons lying in wait. This high functionary was also called themargrave, because the margrave of the Low Countries was, in virtue of that office, the bailiff of the city of Antwerp.]
[Footnote 9: "It is estimated that three thousand new houses were either erected by himself, or by others through his assistance."—Mertens & Torfo,History of Antwerp.]
[Footnote 10: This church was demolished at the commencement of this century. The spot upon which it stood is now called the "Plain of Saint Walburga."]
[Footnote 11: In theHistory of Antwerp, by Mertens & Torfo, Part IV., chapter iii., is found a view of the city, from the banks of the Scheldt, as it was in 1556, and details concerning the principal edifices.]
[Footnote 12: "Geronimo went to Simon and demanded payment of the sum lent, and for which he held a note. Turchi made various excuses, and put off payment from day to day."—Matteo Bandello.]
[Footnote 13: "A fierce desire of vengeance took possession of Simon, and he sought to kill Geronimo."—Matieo Bandello.]
[Footnote 14: A measure of four pints.]
[Footnote 15: "One night, when passing through the streets, he received from the hands of an enemy an ugly wound in the face. He suspected Geronimo of having inflicted it; in which he was mistaken, for the author of the attack was afterwards discovered."—Matteo Bandello.]
[Footnote 16: "After Simon Turchi had determined to revenge himself, and after long consideration, he ordered a large wooden arm-chair, to which were attached two iron bars, so arranged that whoever should sit down in it would be caught by the legs below the knees, and would be unable to move."—Van Meteren,History of the Low Countries.]
[Footnote 17: "Geronimo, a merchant from Lyons desires to see you, but as he does not wish to be known at Antwerp now, he is concealed in my garden. He begs that you will meet him there."—Matteo Bandello.]
[Footnote 18: "This chair being made, he told one of his servants, namedJulio, who was proscribed in Italy, and under sentence of death."—VanMeteren,History of the Low Countries.]
[Footnote 19: "And the said Julio pushed Geronimo into a large arm-chair, which sprang and closed."—Origin and Genealogy of the Dukes and Duchesses of Brabant. Antwerp, 1565; p. 308.]
[Footnote 20: "In the cellar … in a grave which had been prepared by the said Julio to bury Geronimo after the commission of the murder."—Origin and Genealogy of the Dukes and Duchesses of Brabant.]
[Footnote 21:Order and Proclamation of Messire Van Schoonhoven, bailiff, and of the Burgomaster, Constables, and Council of the city of Antwerp:
"It having come to the knowledge of the bailiff, burgomaster, and constables of this city that Geronimo Deodati, a merchant of Lucca, went out yesterday afternoon, about four o'clock, from his residence in this city, near the Convent of the Dominicans, and that he was seen for the last time beyond the Square of Meir, and since then he has not been heard of, and we know not what has become of him, so that there is great suspicion that the said Geronimo has been maltreated, or even put to death; therefore, the magistrates of the same city do proclaim that he who first will give information as to what has become of the said Geronimo, will receive the sum of three hundred florins."—Extract from the "Book of Laws of the City of Antwerp."]
[Footnote 22: "The bailiff said that the magistrates had determined to search all the stables, cellars, and gardens, to discover whether the ground in any of these places had been recently dug."—E. Van Meteren,History of the Low Countries.]
[Footnote 23: "Simon Turchi was known to be a perverse and immoral man; in a word, he was a compound of every vice and every evil inclination."—Matteo Bandello.]
[Footnote 24: "Go and do what I have commanded you. Disinter the body, take it on your shoulders and cast it into the sewer which is in the square where the three streets meet."—Simon Turchi.—Matteo Bandello.]
[Footnote 25: "I will send Bernardo to help you, and I will order him to obey you, whatever you may command. When you have thrown the body into the sewer, you can, by a quick movement, push Bernardo in also. The sewer is deep, and whoever falls into it is immediately drowned."—Matteo Bandello.]
[Footnote 26: "Simon Turchi begged Julio to take the crime upon himself."—Van Meteren,History of the Low Countries.]