OF course, Don Leonardo was amazed to see his friend, deeming him by this time either in an English prison or dead. He learned with amazement the part that Maud had performed, for Charles Bramble was forced to reveal to the father, who was eager to inquire after his daughter. Though Charles felt not the least compunctions of conscience as to the matter, yet he now fully realized the cause of all her enmity, though of this he said not a word to her father. Don Leonardo cheerfully joined the new-comer in completing his business arrangements, and Charles Bramble found himself the rightful owner of some eight thousand dollars in gold, the product of the goods which he had landed as his private venture, and he also took good care to forward true bills of credit to his owners in Cuba, for the specie which had been sent out by him to purchase slaves.
These business arrangements consummated, he now began to think seriously of once more revisiting the scenes of his childhood, Bramble Park. He doubted not that Helen and her mother would arrive at their own early home, which adjoined that of Bramble Park, and which, by the way, had been leased during their settlement in India, as early as he could himself procure conveyance which would enable him to reach the spot. With this idea, he eagerly scanned the horizon daily, hoping for the arrival of some craft, even a slaver, that might bear him away, either towards America or Europe, so that he might get into the course of travel.
One morning, when he had as usual gone up to the lookout and scanned the sea view far and near, he at last came down to the breakfast-room with his face quite speaking with inward satisfaction. He had seen a sail, evidently a large merchantman, and begged Don Leonardo to go up and see if together they could not make the stranger out more fully. Charles, himself, thought that she was heavy and evidently steering for the small bay on which the factory stood. But their curiosity was soon to be satisfied, for spar after spar gradually became more and more clearly defined, until at last the deck itself could be seen, and St. George's cross observed flying saucily in the breeze. The ship was a British sloop-of-war, and so it proved.
In an hour more, Captain Robert Bramble came on shore, accompanied by Helen and her mother, with Maud Leonardo. As it afterwards appeared, Maud desired to be brought back to her father, and the English ship was but performing its appointed duty in cruising on the coast; while Helen knowing that Charles had come hither, persuaded her mother that it was best to sail with Captain Bramble, rather than stop in Sierra Leone among utter strangers. For on ship-board they were under his care, and besides, as she admitted to her mother, she had good reason for supposing that Captain Will Ratlin, for thus the mother knew him still, was at Bay Salo, as Don Leonardo's factory was called on the coast. Thus it was that they were once more on this spot.
The brothers met before the collected members of the returning party and those on the shore, and regarded each other with a stern glance. It was the only token of recognition which passed between them; but Charles hastened to Helen's side, and pressing her hand tenderly, looked the words that he could not speak before others. Mrs. Huntington seemed overjoyed, too, at joining one whom she felt was a true friend to herself and daughter, and unhesitatingly evinced this feeling, while Maud and Captain Robert Bramble walked by themselves filled with bitter thoughts. Robert had at once presumed as to whither his brother had escaped, well knowing that he must here have left unsettled business accounts of great value and importance. He therefore was prepared for the meeting which took place as we have seen. The Quadroon saw Helen and Charles thus together, she saw the delight that this meeting caused to both, she was witness to the eloquent language of the eyes that beamed into each other, and then she hastened from the spot, crazed with bitterness of feeling, and fall of direful purpose. Had she been observed at that moment, it would have been seen that there was danger in her. To her father's kind salute, she turned a deaf ear, and hastened into the dwelling with headlong speed.
Charles and Helen had much to say to each other. Now that he had told his love, now that the dark veil had been removed from the past that had obscured his origin, he felt confidence, and spoke with manly cheer and a light heart. The most indifferent observer would have noticed this, and it waits not without its effect upon Helen, who looked brighter and happier than ever before, and the two succeeded at once in infusing a degree of cheerfulness all around them, reflected by Helen's mother and even Don Leonardo, with his heavy eyebrows and shaggy beard. Captain Robert Bramble and Maud alone seemed unhappy, and they were moody indeed.
It was towards the twilight hour on the very day of the arrival which we have referred to, that Charles and Helen arm in arm started away from the house to the adjacent jungle, where was a pleasant trysting-place, with a seat prepared for resort from the house. Breathing into each other's ears the glad and trusting accents of true love, they sauntered slowly hither and sat down there, Helen upon the rude, but comfortable seat, and Charles at her feet upon the ground. About them grew the rank, luxuriant foliage of Africa; fragrant flowers bloomed within reach of their hands, and luscious fruit greeted the eye in whichever direction it sought. The soft air of the afterpart of the day was ladened with sweetness, and they seemed to gather fresh incentive for tenderness and love in the peculiar surroundings of the spot.
"So, you have broken off all connection with this business, and have settled your accounts with Don Leonardo, have you not?" asked Helen, of him at her feet.
"Yes, dearest, all has been done, and I shall have no more to do with the trade of this inhospitable coast, you may be assured. My only hope and desire is once more to see you and your mother safe in England, where I can make you by sacred ties my own."
Helen looked the tender response that beat in her heart, but which her lips refused to pronounce. She was very, very happy, and they talked over olden times, childish recollections, and the memories of their early home.
While Charles and Helen were thus engaged, two other individuals closely connected with the plot of our story were not idle. Captain Robert Bramble was now satisfied that without physical force he could not intervene between his rival brother and Helen Huntington; he would gladly have done this, but policy prevented, for he saw that in doing so, he would but gratify his revenge without approaching a single step nearer the consummation of his wishes. It was nearly the appointed date for the sailing of his ship from the station for England, and he had made up his mind to return at once to Sierra Leone, and prepare to sail homeward.
He had already taken leave of Mrs. Huntington, and was seeking her daughter to say to her farewell; the wind was fair, he would sail within the hour, and on inquiring for Helen he was told by some one that she had been seen a few moments before walking towards the jungle. The informant did not say in the company of him she so evidently loved, and Robert Bramble hastened forward in hopes that he might meet her there alone; perhaps, even once more press that oft rejected suit; he even thought as he went what he could say to her, and wondered how she would receive him. It was difficult to say what it was in his bosom which caused him so tenaciously to pursue this vain desire; his was not the heart to die for love, it amounted almost to obstinacy. He was self-willed, and was accustomed to have his own way in all things; here he had been thwarted from the very outset.
Maud Leonardo, since her arrival home, was scarcely herself, she avoided all intercourse, spoke to no one, and locked herself in her chamber. But now she started forth intent on some purpose, as was evident from the direct and prompt step she pursued. Yes, from her window she had seen Charles, and Helen wander leisurely and affectionately together towards the jungle, and to the same point she now directed her steps, though by a circuitous path. She muttered to herself as she went, and walked with unwonted speed, as though she feared to lose one moment of time. At this quick pace, she was soon hidden in the paths of the thick undergrowth and forest land.
"Hark! what sound is that?" said Helen, suddenly turning and peering into the thick foliage which surrounded the spot.
"I hear nothing," replied Charles Bramble. "It was some bird perhaps, among these branches. But why do you look so pale, Helen?"
"It is so terrible. I thought the sound was like that of one of those terrible serpents that frequent these parts, the anaconda, creeping towards us."
"Nay, dearest, it was but your imagination; these reptiles avoid the near approach to human habitations, and would not be likely to be here."
"There! there it is again," she said convulsively, drawing closely to his side, while both looked towards the spot from whence at that moment a sound proceeded.
In a moment more there broke forth from the clustering vines and trees the figure of a man, with a drawn sword, who hastened with lowering brow towards them! It was Robert Bramble, incensed beyond endurance at the sight which met his vision through the vista of the foliage on his approaching the spot; he paused but for one single moment, then yielding to the power of his almost ungovernable temper, he drew his sword and rushed forward, determined to sacrifice his brother's life. Helen seeing plainly and instantly the state of affairs, threw herself with a scream of terror before Charles to protect him, unarmed as he was, from the keen weapon that gleamed in his brother's hand.
But strange are the ways of Providence, and past finding out. At that instant he staggered, reeled forward, and placing one hand to his forehead fell nearly at their feet!
Amazed at this, Charles and Helen both hastened to his side, but he was speechless, and ere he could be removed from the position in which he fell, life was wholly extinct. What was it that had so strangely, so suddenly sacrificed him in the midst of his fell intent? Hark! Charles starts as a shrill, low whizzing sound was heard close to his ear! The mystery is explained, a poisoned barb had killed his brother, entering the eye and piercing the brain, while this second one that had just whistled past his car, had been intended for him. He turned hastily to the direction from whence the missile had come, and there stood or rather staggered Maud Leonardo. He hastened now to her side as she gradually half knelt, half fell to the ground. Her eyes rolled madly in their pockets, her hands grasped vainly at the air, and she muttered incoherently.
"Maud, Maud, what have you done?" asked Charles, leaning over her.
"The barb was poisoned, it—it—was meant for you!" she half shrieked. "I—I—am dying, dying unrevenged—O, this scorching, burning pain!"
"What ails you, Maud—what can we do for you?" asked Charles, kindly.
"I—I am poisoned," groaned the Quadroon, holding up her lacerated hand which she had carelessly wounded with one of the barbs intended to have killed him.
The barb she had wounded and killed Robert with, was blown through a long, hollow reed, a weapon much used in Africa, and the barb had been dipped in poison so subtle, rapid and sure in its effect, that the wound the girl had received accidentally in her hand, was fast proving fatal to her. In Robert Bramble's case, it had reached a vital part at once, and had been almost instantly fatal in its effect. But Maud was dying!
"Poor, poor girl, what shall we say to your father?" asked Charles, for he knew full well the fatal poisons in which the negroes dip their tiny barbs; and he realized that the Quadroon, who was a victim to her own scheme of destruction, could not live but a few moments.
She seemed too far gone to speak now, and turned and writhed in an agony of pain upon the ground, while Helen strove to raise her head and to comfort her. The poison seemed to act upon her by spasms, and she would have a moment now and then, when she was comparatively at ease. The lowering darkness of her face was gone now, a serenity seemed to be gathering there, and leaning forward between the paroxysms, she held forth the hand which was not wounded towards Charles Bramble who stood tenderly over her, and said in a low, gentle voice:
"Forgive—forgive me! will you—will you not forgive me?"
"With all my heart, poor girl, I do sincerely forgive you," said Charles, earnestly.
All was not black in that human heart, the half effaced image of its Maker was there still; and Maud looked tenderly and penitently upon Helen and Charles. The former knelt by her side, and drawing the poor girl's hands together across her breast as she lay upon the ground, lifted her own hands heavenward, moving her lips in prayer as she bent over the sufferer. What little Maud knew of religious instruction, had been taught her in the form of the Episcopal church, and she now listened to the formal prayer from the litany appropriate to her situation. A sweet smile gathered over her face as Helen proceeded, and prayed for forgiveness for all sins committed; and as she paused at the close, three voices repeated the word Amen.
Charles and Helen rose to their feet, but the spirit of the Quadroon had fled!
THE events of the past few weeks seemed to Charles Bramble more like dream than reality; he could hardly compose his mind sufficiently to realize the serious bearings of his present situation. Of course, it was now useless longer to disguise his relationship to Robert, who had lost his life by means of the poisoned barb which Maud had intended for his brother. Charles took possession of his body, and informed all those necessary duties that his own feelings suggested, and form required. The second officer of the ship assumed the command vacated by Captain Robert's death, and as the time had now arrived for the return of the vessel to England, he sailed at once for Liverpool.
Though Charles was loth to be separated from Helen, yet he urged upon herself and mother to join the English man-of-war, in which they could secure the most comfortable and safest passage to Liverpool; while for himself, there was still left business matters which it was imperative for him to consummate before he left the region where he was. It was at last decided that the mother and daughter should improve this mode of conveyance home, and Helen reluctantly bade him she so tenderly loved a tearful farewell, and in secret they pledged to each other their hearts for life.
Charles Bramble watched the receding ship which contained her so dear to him, until it was a mere speck upon the waters, and then felt that it was possibly the last token he might ever see of her. The path before him was not one strewn with roses, he had serious dangers to encounter, a long voyage to make, and an unhealthy climate to endure; for he must cross the ocean, he found, in order to settle honorably with those men who had placed such unlimited faith in his integrity. But he had no ship or craft of any sort at his command, and must wait an opportunity for reaching the West Indies, doubtless, on board some vessel in the trade which he had just abandoned.
Don Leonardo seemed to little heed the death of his daughter. In fact, he did not trouble himself to inquire into its particulars, further than to understand the immediate cause. He was a sensual and intemperate man, half of whose life was passed under the effects of unnatural stimulus, and provided his appetite was not interfered with, cared little what befell others. Since the English man-of-war had sailed, his barracoons began to fill once more with negroes from the interior, and he was now prepared to ship a cargo by the first adventurer's vessel which should arrive. The funds which Charles Bramble had brought out from Cuba to Africa, were consigned to Don Leonardo, and he of course would do with the money as he pleased; he therefore proposed to charter the first vessel that came, and ship a cargo the same as he would have done in the "Sea Witch."
It was not long before one of those flat, low, dark clipper schooners hove in sight and ran into the bay. She was small, sat deep in the water, was scarcely three hundred tons burthen, but managed to stow three hundred and forty negroes with ease, and would have taken more had not intelligence from the lookouts been brought in, that a square rig was coming down the coast. Charles Bramble hesitated whether he should embark in this craft. It was consigned to his former owners, the very men he wished to meet. He might have to wait for months in order to obtain another chance, it was hardly a matter of choice with him, but became one of necessity, and he embarked accordingly.
Charles Bramble was no sooner fairly at sea than he was filled with amazement at the condition of matters on board the slaver. Himself accustomed to enforce the most rigid discipline, he here saw a perfect bedlam; a crew of some thirty people, composed of the vilest of the vile, who must have been shipped only with an eye to numbers, and no regard for character or stability. Added to this, the captain, though a man of some experience as a seaman, had no control of the crew, and was quite at a loss how to manage them. Twice was Charles Bramble obliged to interfere between the crew and the captain before they were three days at sea; and by his stern, calm will he succeeded in preventing open mutiny by the crew. The fact was, the most desperate part of the foremast hands knew very well that the money sent out to purchase slaves, was still on board in good golden doubloons, and they were secretly scheming to take the schooner, kill the officers and appropriate the gold.
Charles Bramble was accustomed to deal with such spirits; he was well-armed at all hours, and prepared for the very trouble which was to come, inasmuch as he had anticipated it. There were two mates and the captain, beside himself, who might be relied upon to stand by the vessel and the owners' rights, but they had fearful odds against them. There was also a lad who had gone out in the "Sea Witch" as cabin boy, whom Charles Bramble was now bringing back with him to his family in Cuba, the boy having escaped the massacre which occurred when the "Sea Witch" was burned, and who had been living at Leonardo's factory. On him also he felt he could rely. The boy soon discovered the mutiny that was hatching, and told the captain secretly that it would occur at the moment land was announced from the mast-head on making the islands of the West Indies.
This was all the information necessary for Charles Bramble, to whom the captain of the schooner gave up all control, to prepare for the emergency. He completely armed the four parties on whom he could rely, and bade them wait for orders from him, but when he gave those orders to act instantly and without pausing for further consideration. The crew were somewhat puzzled to see their chief officer give up even the sailing of the vessel to him who had come on board as a passenger, but they could not but also perceive that he who acted as the captain now, was a very different man to deal with, and one who knew his business. They saw that the schooner was made to sail better than ever before, that the crew were kept in their places and busy, an important thing at sea, and though they were still resolved to make the attempt, they did not like the appearance of matters.
Scarcely had the lookout after a short passage descried the first land, and hailed the deck with "land ho!" when a change was instantly observed among the crew. Captain Bramble, however, was on the watch, and so were his backers; and seeing this, he instantly called one of the ringleaders aft, and bade him sternly to lay his hand to a rope and pull it taut. The man instinctively obeyed at first, subdued by the calm, stern front of the man who addressed him, but in a moment more he ceased and turned towards the officer flatly declining duty, at the same time beckoning the hands forward to come to the quarter-deck. Captain Bramble paused one second of time and repeated his order. It was not obeyed, and in the next instant the man lay a corpse with a bullet through his brains at the feet of his officer!
This prompt punishment for a moment checked the action of the rest, but it was only for a moment when they moved aft in a body.
"Hold, where you are!" shouted the young but determined commander. "The man who advances another step dies!"
All paused, save two of the most daring of the rascals who continued to press on. Captain Ratlin now bade the mates to shoot the first man who came aft unbidden, while he marched a few paces forward, and once more bid them stand. They heeded him not, and the foremost one fell with a bullet though his heart! Captain Ratlin instantly drew a fresh weapon from his bosom and presented it at the other foremost man, "fall back, fall back, you imps of darkness, fall back, I say, or you die!"
The crew had not counted on this summary treatment, they were beaten and mastered; the culprit addressed sneaked back among the crew trembling with fear.
Captain Ratlin returned to the quarter-deck, received fresh arms from one of the mates, and then calmly began to issue orders for the sailing of the vessel, as though nothing had occurred to interfere with the business routine of the day. Those orders were promptly obeyed. The master spirit there had asserted its control, and established it, too; and a more orderly crew never moored a slave ship on the south side of Cuba, than were soon busily engaged in that duty after the set of sun on the day when this bold attempt at mutiny had occurred.
This little affair, which came very near to costing Charles Bramble his life, was in one sense a fortunate one, since it put him on the best of terms with the owners, who had entrusted him with the "Sea Witch," and who now pressed a gratuity of $2000 upon him for his part of the present voyage, and forwarded him safely without expense on his return voyage to England. This additional amount of funds to his already handsome sum of personal property, gave him some $10,000 dollars of ready money, which he took with him to his homestead at Bramble Park. The money enabled him not only to clear the estate of all encumbrances, but also to make his mother, now aged and bed-ridden, comfortable.
But he was soon married, and with Helen Huntington, whose estates joined those of Bramble Park, he obtained a large fortune; but best of all, he took to his arms a sweet, intelligent and loving wife. She with whom he had played in childhood amid these very scenes, she whom he had rescued upon the waters of the ocean, she who had loved and reformed him.
THE END.
IT was scarce past the meridian of a warm summer's day, when from the inn of old Gaspar Varni, underneath the heights of Sorento, might have been heard the sound of viols, and the deep notes of the bassoon ringing clear from amidst the clash of merry voices. Music and careless mirth, the never failing concomitants of an Italian holiday, were here in full ascendency; for the birthday of the portly host happening to fall on the anniversary of St. Geronimo, the yearly festival which served to celebrate the two in one, was a matter of no small interest to the villagers. The dining room was filled almost to suffocation, and it were a matter admitting of doubt, whether the chagrined few who chanced by lateness of arrival, or other causes, to be excluded from seats at table, were not to be envied rather than pitied in the endurance of their deprivation.
Such a doubt, perhaps, was entertained by an individual dressed in a peasant's frock and a slouched hat, who, pausing in the open doorway, regarded the mixed assembly with a half smile, not wanting a certain superciliousness which in other circumstances would have provoked instant observation. Now, however, the full swing of common enjoyment rendered every one blind to what the looker-on took no trouble to conceal. Nor did he at all lower his disdainful regard, when a veteran clad in a sort of military undress, arose from the opposite side of the tables, and waving a wine-cup in his hand, drew on himself the general attention.
"Comrades," he said, "I give to you, Napoleon! my noble master, who, six years ago, delivered me with his own hand the shoulder-knot of a sergeant of the guard. Napoleon!—the soldier's true friend, and the greatest man on earth. Green be his memory forever!"
The words were scarce out of his mouth, when a youth, some twenty years of age, sprang up and hastily replied:
"What right hast thou, Jean Maret, thus to celebrate in our midst, the praises of our tyrant? Dost thou deem our spirits dead to all generous emotion? A curse on the usurper who burned our country with fire, and poured out the blood of its children like water! May just Heaven pour down indignation on his head!"
This speech produced an instant commotion. Angry words were bandied back and forth, and bright steel already flashed in the light, when the sturdy voice of old Gaspar surmounted the din.
"What means this tumult?" he cried. "Shall a few wine-warmed words thus set you all agog, my merry men? Come, you forget yourselves in giving way to such causeless rage. And thou, Gulielmo, leave thy saucy quips. How darest thou thus spoil good cheer?"
The youth, with a grieved countenance, turned to go.
"'Tis not," he said, "that I fear for threats, especially from Master Jean. Yet since thou commandest, I needs must yield."
So saying, he passed out of the door, while the tumult having ceased, a whisper went round the room:
"Gaspar has a fine daughter; 'tis she who commands through him."
The mirth, for a moment rudely stayed, again proceeded. Goblets clinked and wine flowed merrily, till the host, striking his hand on the table, again addressed the company:
"Good people and neighbors all," he said, "I pledge you here my future son-in-law. Drink deep then; the wine is good, I trust, and at all events the toast merits our good will."
The wine was forthwith lifted to lip, and at the word, the generous liquid, blushing with deeper hue than even did the landlord's jolly nose, was drained to the uttermost drop, and the cups, turned bottom up, were replaced on the board. As the ring of the metal ceased, Master Jean, grizzle-haired and scarred with the marks of war, rose up and grimly smiled around.
"Mates," he said, "I am not apt at making fine speeches, though I can feel as many thanks as another. I'll give you then, our jolly host and his sweet daughter. Than he, no better rules the roast between here and the salt sea. And what maiden can compare with her in loveliness?"
This speech was received with the most decided applause by the rest of the company, who seemed eager to evince their approbation of all things at present said and done, by steadfast application to the festivities of the occasion.
Meantime, far removed from their boisterous cheer, sat within her little chamber the maiden, weeping at thought of the dreaded marriage-day, towards which the hours were rapidly hastening.
"O, Gulielmo!" such were the thoughts which she murmured, "shall I be able to support life forever removed from thee? Alas! the fate which so ruthlessly severs our mutual loves!"
Meanwhile, Gulielmo roamed the hills, his heart swelling with sadness. What use in longer adherence to home and the lowly shepherd's lot? No, he would no longer tamely submit to poverty and the contempt which it entailed on its victim. The moment was now arrived when he must bid adieu to Rosa, loved in vain, and to Sorento, spot hitherto so loved and lonely. Thus musing, he began to trace on the sandy soil a rude outline, which certainly bore a striking resemblance to Rosa's pretty features.
"Well done, Master Gulielmo!" suddenly exclaimed a strange voice.
The startled youth looked up, and in so doing cast his eye on a face which seemed not altogether unknown to his remembrance. The stranger possessed a visage bold and finely formed, a piercing eye, and a strongly-marked mouth set beneath a classic nose; while his tawny color told a life exposed to daily wind, and sun, and rain.
"Art thou a student of the art which is our country's pride?" continued the latter, "or does love inspire the skill which thou hast here displayed?"
"I am no student," Gulielmo replied; "and yet I daily try, in my unknowing way, to counterfeit the forms which I see."
"It were pity then," rejoined the other, "that such as thou should idly waste those talents which when duly trained would surely bring their owner fame and wealth. Suppose for instance that some great lord, or other noble patron of the arts, should send thee a couple of years to Rome;—but I forget. Perchance the maid whom thou hast pictured here, might interpose her pretty face to spoil so fair a plan?"
"Alas!" said Gulielmo, quickly, "she is not for me. And though I see that you are jesting, I tell you truly that I would go where any chance might lead me, so that I might never see her or Sorento again."
"I do not jest," answered the stranger. "Indeed, I know your story already. I was present just now at the inn, when you and Jean Maret fell at variance. And, friend Gulielmo, I know of a certain lord who I am confident will do you the office which your talents require. He is a Russian prince, of generous hand, although of a somewhat rough exterior. Take courage; perchance affairs may have a better turn. And if the Russian, as no doubt he will, shall take thee under his wing, mayhap old Gaspar's purpose may yield some grace to thy ill-prospered love. Hie home then, and wait a little for the flood of fortune. I've faith that thy ill-luck will shortly change to good."
The stranger turned away. Gulielmo, in mute surprise, watched his steps a while, and then hastened along the winding path which led him back to his own cottage door.
The moon hung high in silver light above the village and the quiet fields which lay beyond, when a gallant train came in order down the unfrequented street. Appareled gaily, each cavalier wore roquelaure and belt, and in their midst they bore a prisoner—the veteran Jean. Reaching at length the grassy market-place, they halted and formed a ring, in the midst of which they placed their captive. Some of the number drew from underneath their short cloaks instruments of music, while others cleared their throats as if about to sing. Presently there stepped apart a masked form, who thus gave command in a rude sort of rhyme:
"Hola, my merry mountaineers,Prepare a festive lay;Our gallant friend will measure tripWhile we a song essay."
Each other masker thereupon drew a rapier, and turned its point to centre.
"Unbind the captive, give him room;Now, friend, pray mind your play.Strike up, my lads, and heed your time,And merrily troll away."
At the word, the others commenced in deep, hoarse voices:
"An old graybeard a wooing came,"Ha! ha! ha!With plenty of brass, but little brain,Tira la la!
Merrily round we go,Merrily.All in a circle O,
Cheerily!Right joyful was the gaffer gray,La la la!And who so blithe as he I pray?Tira la la!
Merrily round we go.Alas! the change of time and tide,Ah! ha! ha!That gaffer's joy to grief should glide,Tira la la!
Merrily round we go."
"Trip on, friend Jean," the leader said; "thou laggest wretchedly. Let me spirit thee with this good steel rod; 'twill move thee most famously."
Jean Maret, in spite of himself, discovered great agility on this occasion. He could hardly have moved with more readiness in the rustic cotillon among the village lads and lasses. Nevertheless, not a few oaths escaped him, doubly provoked as he was by the composure of his tormentors, and the laughter of the surrounding spectators. But swifter still flew the brisk burden, "Tira la la."
"Good people all," the chief now said, "we have piped this man to play, and now that we the pipes have tuned, 'tis fair his purse should pay."
"Villain!" replied the veteran, testily, "ye shall not have a doit!"
"Good luck, our friend's not satisfied," returned the mask. "And yet we've done our best. Well then, Jean Maret, we will offer you a change. Doubtless you have seen the dance which is inspired by the bite of our famous black spider. Let us see if our good steel may not be able to supply the place of the spider. Come then, my lads, strike up 'La Tarantula.'"
Again Jean was forced to display his powers of agility, as flew the music and the accompanying voices, onward and still on, with ever-increasing rapidity. At length his obstinacy was overcome, as much by the absurdity of the affair as its personal inconvenience.
"Cease, cease," he cried; "have done with this, and the money you demand shall be forthcoming. A pack of fiends were better companions, I trow, than your blackamoor troop. Let me on, then, and I will lead you to my cash-box, and after you have there satisfied yourselves, I pray you to go your ways like honest thieves, as you are."
"Take heed what you say, Jean," replied the chief masker. "We are honest, that is true enough, and we only want a fair payment for our services. Our band never performs for a less price than a thousand crowns, nor will we ask more than this of a worthy soldier like yourself. So lead the way, my friend, we follow close on your steps."
With jingling steel and shrilly pipe, the troop retraced its course, till on arriving at the lodging-place of Jean Maret, the latter paid down the needful scot, indulging himself while counting out the coin in various hearty objurgations which seemed to add no little to the amusement of his hearers. Meanwhile, from mouth to mouth, among the villagers, who gathered round the scene, passed the whispered murmur:
"Sartello, the bandit chief, and his followers!"
The person thus indicated turned to the shrinking crowd, and lifting the mask from his face, he addressed them thus:
"Good friends, our play is finished. The players through me, desire to make you their most respectful bow, thanking you for your good company. We rejoice to see that you are pleased with our endeavors for your amusement, and will hope that when next we chance to meet, we may therein be as fortunate as now."
At the word, each of the troop made a low obeisance, and with their leader, quickly retreated from the village. By slow degrees, the streets were cleared, though here and there a few lingered along to talk over the occurrences of the night. It was not till near the dawn of morn that the village again became quiet, when in the early dew, a carriage drove swiftly up to the inn, the door of which the coachman, having leaped from his seat, banged with might and main. At length old Gaspar thrust his night-capped head from an upper window.
"What means this cursed din?" he angrily exclaimed.
"Come down—come down!" the coachman replied, in a gruff voice. "Here is Prince Reklovstt waiting at your door."
"Good Heaven!" exclaimed the landlord, withdrawing his head in a fluster. "It can be no common prince, this, with such a jaw-breaking name. Here Francesco, Rosa, wife, all of you! hurry, haste down stairs as quickly as you can!"
The household were quickly astir, the doors were unbarred, and Gaspar presented himself before the prince, who had just descended from the carriage. The Russian lord—for any one would have known him as such by his appearance—possessed a long beard, thick eyebrows, and eyes, whose look was chiefly a chilly and impenetrable stare.
"He must be monstrous rich," thought Gaspar; "he has such a bearish way with him."
The coachman, who seemed also to serve as interpreter, now addressed the host in tolerable Italian, easy enough to be understood, though interspersed now and then with some queer sounding words.
"The prince wishes to breakfast. Quick then! bring a turkey, a quart of brandy, a cup of fat, a good cheese pie, and a reindeer's tongue."
The landlord was filled with astonishment and respect.
"O, servant of a mighty lord!" he said, "our larder is to-day somewhat scant, for crowds of guests have scoured our house of all its choicest fare. But we will give you the very best we have, if you will deign to accept it."
The coachman seemed disturbed, but consulted the prince, who answered him with a frown and a growl of foreign words.
"Mine host!" rejoined the interpreter, "the prince doth condescend to accept. But be sure, whatever else fails, that the brandy is good."
The coachman and his master now engaged themselves in a harsh-sounding conversation, wherein one would have judged that the vowels were far less plentiful than the consonants. Near half an hour thus passed, when—wondrous speed!—a half cooked fowl was placed on the table, together with olives, grapes, and sour brown bread. The Russian lord upon seeing this rare repast spread before him, gave vent to what sounded very like a Sclavonic invective, but nevertheless plunged his knife into the midst of the fowl, and carved and growled, and growled and eat, apparently bent on the most murderous havoc. Meantime, his servant turned to Gaspar.
"The prince hath heard one of your village youths, by name, Gulielmo Massani, commended much for his high talent and great pictorial skill."
"Ah!" murmured Gaspar, to himself, "heard one ever such elegant discourse?"
"The prince last evening met upon the road an old acquaintance, who told him much concerning this lad; recounted his whole history, and told how he drew wonderful resemblances of birds, and beasts, and men."
"'Tis true," replied Gaspar. "Strange that I should never have thought of it before."
"So, therefore, the prince offers to patronize the gifted youth, and send him a couple of years or more to Rome, where he will be able to make himself a perfect artist, and get fortune at such a rate that he can soon roll in gold."
"San Dominic!" said the host; "surely Gulielmo's luck has turned. They say that Jean, last night, was robbed of more than half his store, and so, I do not know—but Rosa—"
"You're right," interrupted the other speaker. "Two hundred crowns are yours, provided Rosa waits two years against Gulielmo's safe return."
"Ahem!" exclaimed the somewhat surprised landlord. "How comes it that you know of this? And yet the girl grieves sorely. I will take you at your word."
The courier nodded and spake to his master, who, with a pompous air, told in his open hand the glittering gold, which was seen transferred to Gaspar's eager grasp.
"And now where is this same Gulielmo?" inquired the courier. "Bring him hither as quickly as possible. I doubt not, when he hears of his advancement, that he will leap for joy."
The youth presently arrived. The courier informed him of the matter in hand, while the prince nodded his head most graciously, and smiled so grim a smile that all the servants looked on dismayed.
"Haste," said the courier to Gulielmo, "pack up your knapsack as quickly as may be, and bid Rosa adieu, for it is time that we were on the road for Rome. There thou shalt undertake the painter's art, and work for fame and bread. And, if all works prosperously, you shall soon be able to wed the fairest maid of all the land."
An hour passed; the carriage drew up before the inn door, the host delivered his most obsequious bow, fair Rosa bade farewell to her lover, the prince and Gulielmo entered the stately vehicle, and, with a loud crack of the coachman's whip, the travellers set out for Rome.
THE two years had elapsed, when on a bright June afternoon, a weary pilgrim halted within a grove which overlooked the village of Sorento. He gazed around for a moment, as if in expectation of some one, and then sat down upon a mossy stone.
"It was here," said he, "that he bade me wait on my return. And yet—"
"He is with you," said Sartello, leaving the scraggy laurel behind which he had concealed himself. "What cheer brings thou from Rome, my gallant lad'? Certes, thy look is loftier and manlier now, whatever fortune thou hast had."
"Kind friend," replied the youth, "I may say that I have had both good and ill fortune; though mostly good, if thou dost agree with my opinion. I bring, through intercession of the pope, a pardon from our king. And thou and thine, if henceforth ye are pleased to remain at peace, will be accepted by the law which now holds your lives forfeit."
Sartello grasped with a vice-like pressure the hand which the youth held out.
"I am well repaid, Gulielmo, for what little I have done in thy behalf, since thou hast thus brought me my heart's desire. No more will we roam the land, outlaws from honest men. We will till and toil, and freely live, scathless and void of care. But of thyself, what speed? say quickly."
The youth frankly smiled.
"My pocket is rather low," he said, "although my hopes are not. I have gained some honor, whatever its worth may be. And now, how fares the gentle maid whom I so long to see?"
"Ah," replied Sartello, shaking his head sadly, "these women are indeed a puzzle. I fear much that Rosa's mind has changed since your departure. Absence, as the poets say, is love's worst bane. But let her go, Gulielmo; fairer charms than hers will soon ease your pain."
Gulielmo stood for a moment as colorless as marble.
"Is this the reward," he said, at length, "of all my weary toil?"
"Pray comfort yourself," replied his friend. "I may as well tell you the worst at once. They say that her wedding-dress is prepared. Jean Maret's gold, and the importunities of old Gaspar, have been too much, fancy, for her fickle resolution."
A single tear fell from Gulielmo, notwithstanding the proud compressure of his lips.
"Let it be so," said he. "I will make no words about it. Neither will I shun her sight. I will face it out, and shame them who think to flout me thus."
"Bravo, my lad!" exclaimed Sartello. "I find that you are of the true stuff. So come along; the hour is already near, when she is to change her name. I feared at first to tell you the tale, but am glad to learn that my fears were needless."
Gulielmo's burning cheek might have sown the pain which raged within his breast: but, nevertheless, he accompanied Sartello with a firm and confident stop till they reached the inn where the guests had already begun to assemble. In the porch, by the side of Jean Maret, sat Rosa, with a few flowers in her hair, her countenance as sweet to view as the first blush of a May morn. But when she met the fiery glance which Gulielmo cast upon her, she seemed abashed, and half turned toward her companion, with a silent appeal of the eyes. The priest now arrived, and all was made ready, Gulielmo looking on with a heated brain, and a feverish sickness gnawing at his heart. He was only able to see a single lovely face, in which a sudden sadness seemed to dim its former smiling grace.
"Why wait we?" bluffly exclaimed Jean Maret. "The priest awaits, the bride is ready. Gulielmo Massani, come forward; Rosa has chosen you as bridesman."
"Scoundrel!" replied Gulielmo, "dare no jests with me, else your life may fail you before your wedding is over."
"My wedding may be near at hand," returned Jean; "but I fear much that Rosa will hardly be my bride. Go, fair maid, and lead this stubborn youth hither. If all else fail, I think that thou wilt be able to hold him captive."
Rosa sprang from the porch to meet Gulielmo. Flinging her lily arms about his neck, her head reclining on his breast:
"Thou art mine," she said; "whether poor or rich, it is the same to me. Pardon this deceit; it was not my will to give thee needless pain."
"How is this?" Gulielmo was with difficulty able to say. "Your bridal—"
"Come, your place!" interrupted Jean. "There, take her hand. How dull you are! It seems to me that after all I should make the readiest groom of the two."
"Not so!" exclaimed Gulielmo. "But I must not allow you to be deceived, however little my tale may profit me."
"Hold then a moment," Sartello cried. "Your hand, friend Jean; I think you bear no ill-will. Or if you do, the settlement we'll postpone, till this present affair shall be concluded. Here, then, in this bag which I deliver you, you will find a thousand crowns, a forced loan to aid Gulielmo's studious years; and with the sum, five hundred crowns by way of interest. I enacted the Russian on a certain occasion,—a counterfeit lord,—and yet not altogether so, as you will own when you have heard my story. Four years ago, I held the title of Prince of Cornaro, where I, in the midst of a beautiful country, upheld the privileges of a lord. But one luckless day I joined a secret band, which sought to change the rule by which Italy was swayed. We failed, and I was forced to fly my native towers, to roam the mountain depths as the chief of lawless men. My wide estates were confiscated to the service of the crown. But this noble youth has now obtained for me a full pardon from the king for all past misdeeds. The sovereign also freely restores me to my former rank and possessions."
He ceased, and every voice was raised in applause.
"Hail, Prince of Cornaro!" was the general exclamation.
"Prince," cried Jean Maret, "I give you thanks for the thousand crowns. The odd five hundred I will give towards Rosa's dowry."
"Nay," rejoined the prince; "the half thou mayst; it is all that thou canst be permitted, for I desire to find some room to add to Rosa's store."
"Ha!" said old Gaspar, with a laugh. "Although not rich, her suitor is yet certain he brings her riches."
"Good sir," replied Gulielmo, "I can show you but little coin, it is true; yet you may perceive some gain will be mine if you but choose to read this obligation."
Thereupon he delivered a slip of parchment into the hand of the host, who turning it once or twice round in the vain attempt to decipher its intention, passed it to the prince, saying:
"I pray your excellency to read it. My eyes are somewhat weak, and indeed my scholarship is not so good as it once was."
"Know all (read the prince, after naming the date), that I will pay to order of Gulielmo Massani, or his lawful heirs, four thousand crowns, with interest, as soon hereafter as demand may be made. BENVOGLIO."
"The Cardinal Benvoglio," said the prince. "Indeed, the lad hath prospered well. But come, the wedding lags. First, let us tie this youthful pair, and after that we'll join the revel on the green, where Jean and I will teach you all how to dance 'LA TARANTULA.'"