What could I reply to such speeches? I looked at him with a stupefied air. I was amazed that I still considered him handsome and lovable; that I still felt in his presence the same emotion, the same desire for his caresses, the same gratitude for his love. His degradation left no trace on his noble brow; and when his great black eyes flashed their flame upon mine, I was dazzled, intoxicated as always; all his blemishes disappeared, everything was blotted out, even the stains of Henryet's blood. I forgot everything else to bind myself to him by blind vows, by oaths and insane embraces. Then in very truth his love was rekindled or rather renewed, as he had prophesied. He gradually abandoned the Princess Zagarolo and passed all the time of my convalescence at my feet, with the same loving attentions and the delicate tokens of affection which had made me so happy in Switzerland; I can say, indeed, that these proofs of affection were even more ardent and caused me more pride, that was the happiest period of my whole life, and that Leoni was never dearer to me. I was convinced of the truth of all that he had told me; nor could I fear that he clung to me from self-interest, as I had nothing more in the world to give him, and was thenceforth a burden to him and dependent upon the hazards of his fortunes. However I felt a sort of pride in not falling short of what he expected from my generosity, and his gratitude seemed to me greater than my sacrifices.
One evening he came home in a state of great excitement, and said, pressing me to his heart again and again:
"My Juliette, my sister, my wife, my angel, you must be as kind and indulgent as God himself, you must give me a fresh proof of your adorable sweetness and your heroism; you must come and live with me at the Princess Zagarolo's."
I recoiled, surprised beyond words; and, as I realized that it was no longer in my power to deny him anything, I turned pale and began to tremble like a condemned man at the gallows' foot.
"Listen," he said, "the princess is horribly ill. I have neglected her on your account; she has grieved so that her disease has become seriously aggravated and the doctors give her only a month to live. Since you know everything, I can speak to you about that infernal will. It is a matter of several millions, and I am in competition with a family on the alert to take advantage of my mistakes and turn me out at the decisive moment. The will in my favor is in existence, in proper form, but a moment's anger may destroy it. We are ruined, we have no other resource. You will have to go to the hospital and I become a leader of brigands, if it escapes us."
"Omon Dieu!" I said, "we lived so inexpensively in Switzerland! Why is wealth a necessity to us? Now that we love each other so well, can we not live happily without committing any new villainy?"
He answered by a frown which expressed the disappointment, the annoyance and the dread which my reproaches caused him. I said nothing more in that connection, but asked him wherein I was necessary to the success of his enterprise.
"Because the princess, in a fit of jealousy not without some foundation, has demanded to see you and question you. My enemies have taken pains to inform her that I pass all my mornings with a young and pretty woman who came to Milan after me. For a long time I succeeded in making her believe that you were my sister; but, during this month that I have neglected her altogether, she has conceived doubts, and refuses to believe in your illness, which I alleged as an excuse for my neglect.—'If your sister is sick too, and can't do without you,' she said, 'have her brought to my house; my women and my doctors will take care of her. You can see her at any time; and if she is really your sister, I will love her as if she were my sister too.'—I tried in vain to fight against this strange whim. I told her that you were very poor and very proud, that nothing in the world would induce you to accept her hospitality, and that it would, in fact, be exceedingly unseemly and indelicate for you to come to live in the house of your brother's mistress. She would listen to no excuse and replied to all my objections with: 'I see that you are deceiving me; she is not your sister.'—If you refuse, we are lost. Come, come, come; I implore you, my child, come!"
I took my hat and shawl without replying. While I was dressing, tears rolled slowly down my cheeks. As we left my chamber, Leoni wiped them away with his lips and embraced me again and again, calling me his benefactress, his guardian angel and his only friend.
I passed with trembling limbs through the princess's vast apartments. When I saw the magnificence of the house, I had an indescribable feeling of oppression at my heart, and I remembered Henryet's harsh words: "When she is dead, you will be rich, Juliette; you will inherit her splendor, you will sleep in her bed and you can wear her gowns."—I hung my head as I passed the servants; it seemed to me that they glared at me with hatred and envy; and I felt far beneath them. Leoni pressed my arm in his, feeling my body tremble and my legs give way.
"Courage! courage!" he whispered to me.
We reached the bedroom at last. The princess was lying in an invalid's chair and seemed to be awaiting us impatiently. She was a woman of about thirty years, very thin, with a yellow face, and magnificently dressed, althoughen déshabillé. She must have been very beautiful in her early days, and she still had a charming face. The thinness of her cheeks exaggerated the size of her eyes, the whites of which, vitrified by consumption, resembled mother of pearl. Her fine, smooth hair was of a glistening black and seemed dry and sickly like her whole person. When she saw me, she uttered a faint exclamation of joy and held out a long, tapering hand, of a bluish tinge, which I fancy that I can see at this moment. I understood, by a glance from Leoni, that I was expected to kiss that hand, and I resigned myself to the necessity.
Leoni was undoubtedly ill at ease, and yet his self-possession and the tranquillity of his manners confounded me. He spoke of me to his mistress as if there were no possibility of her discovering his knavery, and expressed his affection for her before me, as if it were impossible for me to feel any grief or anger. The princess seemed to have fits of distrust from time to time, and I could see, by her glances and her words, that she was studying me in order to destroy her suspicions or confirm them. As my natural mildness of disposition made it impossible for her to hate me, she soon began to have confidence in me; and, jealous as she was, to the point of frenzy, she thought that it was impossible for any woman to consent to take the part I was playing. An adventuress might have done it, but my manners and my face gave the lie to any such conjecture as to my character. The princess became passionately fond of me. She would hardly allow me to leave her bedroom, she overwhelmed me with gifts and caresses. I was a little humiliated by her generosity and I longed to refuse her gifts; but the fear of displeasing Leoni made me endure this additional mortification. What I had to suffer during the first days, and the efforts that I made to bend my pride to that extent, are beyond belief. However, the suffering gradually became less keen, and my mental plight became endurable. Leoni manifested in secret a passionate gratitude and delirious fondness. The princess, despite her whims, her impatience, and all the torture that her love for Leoni caused me, became agreeable and almost dear to me. Her heart was ardent rather than loving, and her nature lavish rather than generous. But she had an irresistible charm of manner; the wit with which her language sparkled in the midst of her most intense agony, the ingeniously kind and caressing words with which she thanked me for my attentions or begged me to forget her outbreaks of temper, her little cajoleries, her shrewd observations, the coquetry which attended her to the grave; in short, everything about her had an originality, a nobility, a refinement by which I was the more deeply impressed because I had never seen a woman of her rank at close quarters, and was not accustomed to the great charm which they owe to their familiarity with the best society. She possessed that charm to such a degree that I could not resist it and allowed myself to be swayed by it at her pleasure; she was so coy and fascinating with Leoni that I imagined that he was really in love with her, and ended by becoming accustomed to see them kiss, and to listen to their insipid speeches without being revolted by them. Indeed, there were days when they were so charming and so witty that I really enjoyed listening to them; and Leoni found means to say such sweet things to me that I was happy even in my unspeakable degradation.
The ill-will which the servants and underlings displayed toward me at first was speedily allayed, thanks to the pains I took to turn over to them all the little gifts their mistress gave me. I even enjoyed the affection and confidence of the nephews and cousins; a very pretty little niece, whom the princess obstinately refused to see, was smuggled into her presence by my assistance, and pleased her exceedingly. Thereupon, I begged her to allow me to give the child a pretty casket which she had forced upon me that morning; and this display of generosity led her to give the child a much more valuable present. Leoni, in whose greed there was nothing paltry or petty, was pleased to see this bounty bestowed on a poor orphan, and the other relations began to believe that they had nothing to fear from us, and that our friendship for the princess was purely noble and disinterested. The essays at tale-bearing against me ceased entirely, and for two months we led a very tranquil life. I was astonished to find that I was almost happy.
The only thing that disturbed me seriously was the constant presence of the Marquis de ——. He had obtained an introduction to the princess, on what pretext I have no idea, and amused her by his caustic, ill-natured chatter. Then he would draw Leoni into another room and have long interviews with him, from which Leoni always came with a gloomy brow.
"I hate and despise Lorenzo," he often said to me; "he is the vilest cur I know; he is capable of anything."
Thereupon, I would urge him to break with him; but he always replied:
"It is impossible, Juliette; don't you know that when two rascals have acted together, they never fall out except to send each other to the scaffold?"
These ominous words sounded so strangely in that beautiful palace, amid the peaceful life we were leading, and almost within hearing of that gracious and trustful princess, that a shudder ran through my veins when I heard them.
Meanwhile, our dear invalid's suffering increased from day to day, and the moment soon came when she must inevitably give up the struggle. We saw that she was failing gradually; but she did not lose her presence of mind for an instant, nor cease her jests and her kind speeches.
"How sorry I am," she said to Leoni, "that Juliette is your sister! Now that I am going to the other world, I must renounce you. I can neither demand nor desire that you remain faithful to me after my death. Unfortunately, you are certain to make a fool of yourself and throw yourself at the head of some woman who is unworthy of you. I know nobody in the world but your sister who is good enough for you; she is an angel, and no one but you is worthy of her."
I could not resist this kindly flattery, and my affection for the princess became warmer and warmer as death slowly took her from us. I could not believe it possible that she would be taken away with all her faculties, all her tranquillity, and when we were all so happy together. I asked myself how we could possibly live without her, and I could not think of her great gilded armchair standing unoccupied, between Leoni and myself, without my eyes filling with tears.
One evening, when I was reading to her while Leoni sat on the carpet warming her feet in a muff, she received a letter, read it through hastily, uttered a loud shriek and fainted. While I flew to her assistance, Leoni picked up the letter and ran his eye over it. Although the writing was disguised, he recognized the hand of the Vicomte de Chalm. It was a denunciation of me, with circumstantial details concerning my family, my abduction, my relations with Leoni; and, with all the rest, a mass of detestable falsehoods regarding my morals and my character.
At the shriek which the princess uttered, Lorenzo, who was always hovering about us like a bird of evil omen, entered the room, I know not how; and Leoni, taking him into a corner, showed him the viscount's letter. When they came back to us, the marquis was very calm, and had a mocking smile on his lips, as usual; while Leoni, intensely agitated, seemed to question him with his eyes as if to ask his advice.
The princess was still unconscious in my arms. The marquis shrugged his shoulders.
"Your wife is intolerably stupid," he said, so loud that I overheard him. "Her presence here now will have the worst possible effect. Send her away; tell her to go for help. I will take everything on myself."
"But what will you do?" said Leoni, in great anxiety.
"Never fear. I have had an expedient all ready for a long while; it's a paper that I always have about me. But send Juliette away."
Leoni asked me to call the servants. I obeyed, and laid the princess's head gently on a cushion. But just as I was passing through the door, some undefinable magnetic force stopped me and made me turn. I saw the marquis approach the invalid as if to assist her; but his face seemed so wicked and Leoni's so pale, that I was afraid to leave the dying woman alone with them. Heaven knows what vague ideas passed through my brain. I hastened to the bed and, glancing at Leoni in terror, I said: "Beware! beware!"—"Of what?" he replied, with an air of amazement. In truth I did not know myself, and I was ashamed of the species of madness I had shown. The marquis's ironical air completed my discomfiture. I went out and returned a moment later with the princess's women and the physician. He found the princess suffering from a terrible nervous spasm, and said that we must try to make her swallow a spoonful of her sedative mixture at once. We tried in vain to force her teeth apart.
"Let the signora try it," said one of the women, pointing to me; "the princess won't take anything from anybody else, and never refuses what she gives her."
I did try, and the dying woman readily yielded. Through force of habit she pressed my hand feebly as she returned the spoon to me; then she violently threw up her arms, raised herself as if she were about to jump out of bed, and fell back dead on her pillow.
This sudden death made a terrible impression on me; I fainted and was carried from the room. I was ill several days, and, when I returned to life, Leoni informed me that I was thenceforth in my own house; that the will had been opened and found unassailable in every respect; that we were the possessors of a handsome fortune and a magnificent palace.
"I owe it all to you, Juliette," he said, "and, more than that, I owe it to you that I am able to think without shame or remorse of our friend's last moments. Your delicacy, your angelic goodness, encompassed them with attentions and lessened their melancholy. She died in your arms, that rival whom any other woman than you would have strangled; and you wept for her as if she were your sister! You are good! too good, too good! Now enjoy the fruit of your courage; see how happy I am to be rich and to be able to surround you once more with all the luxury that you crave."
"Hush," I replied; "now is the time when I blush and suffer. So long as that woman was here, and I was sacrificing my love and my pride to her, I took comfort in the thought that I was really fond of her, and that I was sacrificing myself for her and for you. Now I see only what was base and detestable in my situation. How everybody must despise us!"
"You are greatly mistaken, my dear girl," said Leoni; "everybody bows down to us and honors us because we are rich."
But Leoni did not long enjoy his triumph. The heirs-at-law, who came from Rome furious against us, having learned the details of the princess's sudden demise, accused us of having hastened it by poison, and demanded that the body should be exhumed to ascertain the facts. That was done, and, at the first glance, the traces of a powerful poison were discovered.
"We are lost!" said Leoni, rushing into my room. "Ildegonda was poisoned, and we are accused of having done it. Who could have committed that abominable crime? We must not ask the question, for it was Satan with Lorenzo's face. That is how he serves us. He is safe, and we are in the hands of the law. Do you feel the courage to leap out of the window?"
"No," I said; "I am innocent; I fear nothing. If you are guilty, fly."
"I am not guilty, Juliette," he said, squeezing my arm fiercely. "Do not accuse me when I do not accuse myself. You know that I am not in the habit of sparing myself."
We were arrested and thrown into prison. The prosecution made much noise, but it was less protracted and its result less serious than people expected. Our innocence saved us. In face of such a horrible charge I recovered all the strength due to a pure conscience. My youth and my air of sincerity won the judges at the very beginning. I was speedily acquitted. Leoni's honor and life hung in the balance a little longer. But it was impossible, despite appearances, to find any proof against him, for he was not guilty. He was horror-stricken by the crime—his face and his answers said so plainly enough. He came forth purged of that accusation. All the servants were suspected. The marquis had disappeared, but he returned secretly the moment that we were discharged from prison, and presumed to order Leoni to divide the inheritance with him. He declared that we owed him everything; that, except for the audacity and prompt execution of his plan, the will would have been destroyed. Leoni made the most terrific threats, but the marquis was not frightened. He had the murder of Henryet as a weapon to hold Leoni in awe, and he had it in his power to ruin him utterly. Leoni, frantic with rage, resigned himself to the necessity of paying him a considerable sum.
We began at once to lead a life of wild dissipation and to display the most immeasurable magnificence: to ruin himself anew was with Leoni a matter of six short months. I saw without regret the disappearance of the wealth which I had acquired with shame and sorrow; but I was terrified for Leoni's sake at the near approach of poverty. I knew that he could not endure it, and that to escape from it, he would plunge into fresh misconduct and fresh dangers. Unfortunately it was impossible to induce him to practise self-restraint and prudence; he replied with caresses or jests to my entreaties and warnings. He had fifteen English horses in his stable, his table was open to the whole city, and he had a troupe of musicians at his orders. But the principal cause of his ruin was the enormous sums he was compelled to give his former associates, to prevent them from swooping down upon him and making his house a den of thieves. He had induced them to agree not to ply their trade under his roof; and, to persuade them to leave the salon when his guests began to play cards, he was obliged to pay them a considerable sum every day. This intolerable servitude made him long sometimes to fly from the world and conceal himself with me in some peaceful retreat. But truth compels me to say that prospect was even more appalling to him; for the affection he felt for me was not strong enough to fill his whole life. He was always kind to me, but, as at Venice, he neglected me to drink his fill of all the pleasures of wealth. He led the most dissolute life away from home, and kept several mistresses, whom he selected from a certain fashionable set, to whom he made magnificent presents, and whose society flattered his insatiable vanity. Base and sordid in the acquisition of wealth, he was superb in his prodigality. His fickle character changed with his fortune, and his love for me followed all its phases. In the agitation and suffering caused by his reverses, having nobody but me in all the world to pity him and love him, he returned to me with heartfelt joy; but in his pleasures he forgot me and sought keener delights elsewhere. I was aware of all his infidelities; whether from indolence, or indifference, or confidence in my unwearying forgiveness, he no longer took the trouble to conceal them from me; and when I reproved him for the indelicacy of such frankness, he reminded me of my conduct toward the Princess Zagarolo, and asked me if my pity were already exhausted. Thus the past bound me irrevocably to patience and grief. The greatest injustice in Leoni's conduct was his apparent belief that I was ready to submit to all these sacrifices thenceforth, without pain, and that a woman could ever become accustomed to overcome her jealousy.
I received a letter from my mother, who had heard of me at last through Henryet, and who had fallen dangerously ill just as she was starting to join me. She implored me to go to take care of her, and promised to welcome me with gratitude and without reproaches. That letter was a thousand times too gentle and too kind. I bathed it with my tears; but, argue with myself as I would, it seemed to me not what it should be; it was so mild and humble in tone and expression as to be undignified. Must I say it?—it was not the pardon of a noble and loving mother, alas! but the appeal of a sick and bored woman. I started at once and found her dying. She blessed me, pardoned me and died in my arms, requesting me to see that she was buried in a certain dress of which she had been very fond.
So much fatigue of body and mind, so much suffering had almost exhausted my sensibility. I hardly wept for my mother; I shut myself up in her room after they had taken her body away, and there I remained, crushed and despondent, for several months, occupied solely in reviewing the past in all its phases, and never bethinking myself to wonder what I should do in the future. My aunt, who had greeted me very coldly at first, was touched by this mute grief, which her character understood better than the more demonstrative form of tears. She looked after my welfare in silence, and saw to it that I did not allow myself to die of hunger. The melancholy aspect of that house, which I had known so cheerful and bright, was well adapted to my frame of mind. I saw the old furniture, which recalled the numberless trivial events of my childhood. I compared that time, when a scratch on my finger was the most terrible catastrophe that could disturb the tranquillity of my family, with the infamous and blood-stained life I had subsequently led. I saw, on the one hand, my mother at the ball, on the other, the Princess Zagarolo dying of poison in my arms, perhaps by my hand. The music of the violins echoed in my dreams amid the shrieks of the murdered Henryet; and, in the seclusion of the prison, where, during three months of agony, I had seemed to hear a sentence of death each day, I saw coming toward me, amid the glare of candles and the perfume of flowers, my own ghost clad in silver crêpe and covered with jewels. Sometimes, tired out by these confused and terrifying dreams, I walked to the window, raised the curtains and looked out upon that city where I had been so happy and so flattered, and on the trees of that promenade where so much admiration had followed my every step. But I soon noticed the insulting curiosity which my pale face aroused. People stopped under my window or stood in groups talking about me, almost pointing their fingers at me. Then I would step back, drop the curtains, sit down beside my mother's bed and remain there until my aunt came with her silent face and noiseless step, took my arm and led me to the table. Her manner toward me at that crisis of my life, seemed to me most generous and most appropriate to my situation. I would not have listened to words of consolation, I could not have endured reproaches, I should not have put faith in marks of esteem. Silent affection and unobtrusive compassion made more impression on me. That dismal face, which moved noiselessly about me like a ghost, like a reminder of the past, was the only face that neither disturbed nor terrified me. Sometimes I took her dry hands and held them to my lips for several minutes, without giving vent to a sigh. She never replied to that caress, but stood patiently, and did not withdraw her hands from my kisses; that was much.
I no longer thought of Leoni except as a ghastly memory which I sought with all my strength to banish. The thought of returning to him made me shudder as the sight of an execution would have done. I had not energy enough remaining to love him or hate him. He did not write to me and I was hardly aware of it, I had counted so little on his letters. One day there came one which told me of new disasters. A will of the Princess Zagarolo had been found, bearing a later date than ours. One of her servants, in whom she had confidence, had had the will in his custody ever since the day of its date. She had made it at the time that Leoni had neglected her to take care of me, and she was doubtful as to our relationship. Afterward, when she became reconciled to us, she had intended to destroy it; but, as she was subject to innumerable whims, she had kept both wills, so that she might at any time decide which she would leave in force. Leoni knew where his was kept; but the existence of the other was known only to Vincenzo, the princess's man of confidence; and he was under instructions to burn it at a sign from her. She did not anticipate, poor creature, such a sudden and violent death. Vincenzo, whom Leoni had laden with benefactions, and who was altogether devoted to him at that time, having moreover no knowledge of the princess's final intentions, kept the will without saying a word, and allowed us to produce ours. He might have enriched himself by threatening us or selling his secret to the heirs-at-law; but he was not a dishonest man nor a wicked one. He allowed us to enjoy the inheritance, demanding no higher wages than he had previously received. But, when I had left Leoni, he became dissatisfied; for Leoni was brutal with his servants, and I retained them in his service only by my indulgence. One day Leoni forgot himself so far as to strike the old man, who at once pulled the will from his pocket and told him that he was going to take it to the princess's cousins. Threats, entreaties, offers of money, all were powerless to appease his anger. The marquis appeared on the scene and attempted to obtain possession of the fatal paper by force; but Vincenzo, who was a remarkably powerful man for his years, knocked him down, struck him, threatened to throw Leoni through the window if he attacked him, and hurried away to publish the document that avenged him. Leoni was at once dispossessed, and ordered to restore all that he had expended of the property, that is to say, three fourths of it. As he was unable to comply, he tried to fly, but in vain. He was put into prison, and it was from the prison that he wrote to me, not all the details which I have given you and which I learned afterward, but a few words in which he depicted the horror of his position. If I did not go to his aid, he might languish all his life in the most horrible captivity, for he no longer had the means to procure the comforts with which we had been able to surround ourselves at the time of our former confinement. His friends had abandoned him and perhaps were glad to be rid of him. He was absolutely without resources, in a damp cell, where he was already very ill with fever. His jewels, even his linen had been sold; he had almost nothing to protect him from the cold.
I started at once. As I had never intended to settle definitively in Brussels, and as naught but the indolence of grief had delayed me there for half a year, I had converted almost all of my inheritance into cash; I had often thought of using it to found a hospital for penitent girls, and to become a nun therein. At other times I had thought of depositing it in the Bank of France, and purchasing an inalienable annuity for Leoni, which would keep him from want and villainy forever. I should have retained for myself only a modest annuity, and have buried myself alone in the Swiss valley where the memory of my happiness would assist me to endure the horror of solitude. When I learned the new disaster that had befallen Leoni, I felt that my love and anxiety for him sprang into life, more intense than ever. I sent all my fortune to a banking house at Milan. I reserved only a sufficient amount to double the pension which my father had bequeathed to my aunt. That amount was represented, to her great satisfaction, by the house in which we lived and in which she had passed half of her life. I abandoned it to her and set out to join Leoni. She did not ask me where I was going; she knew only too well; she did not try to detain me, she did not thank me, she simply pressed my hand; but when I turned to look back, I saw rolling slowly down her wrinkled cheek the first tear I had ever known her to shed.
I found Leoni in a horrible condition, haggard, pale as death and almost mad. It was the first time that want and suffering had really taken hold of him. Hitherto he had simply seen his wealth vanish little by little, while seeking and finding means to replenish it. His disasters in that respect had been great; but card-sharping and chance had never left him long battling with the privations of poverty. His mental power had always remained intact, but it was overcome when physical strength abandoned him. I found him in a state of nervous excitement which resembled madness. I gave securities for his debt. It was easy for me to furnish proofs of my responsibility, for I had them upon me. So I entered his prison only to set him free. His joy was so intense that he could not endure it, and he had to be carried, unconscious, to a carriage.
I took him to Florence and surrounded him with all the comforts I could procure. When all his debts were paid, I had very little left. I devoted all my energies to making him forget the sufferings of his prison. His robust body was soon cured, but his mind remained diseased. The terrors of darkness and the agony of despair had made a profound impression upon that active, enterprising man, accustomed to the enjoyments of wealth, or to the excitement of the adventurer's life. Inaction had shattered him. He had become subject to childish terrors, to terrible outbreaks of violence; he could not endure the slightest annoyance; and the most horrible thing was that he vented his wrath on me for all the annoyances that I could not spare him. He had lost that will power which enabled him to face without fear the most precarious prospects for the future. He was terrified now at the thought of poverty and asked me every day what resources I should have when my present means were exhausted. I was appalled myself at the thought of the destitution which was impending. The time came at last. I began to paint pictures on screens, snuff-boxes and other small articles of Spa wood. When I had worked ten hours, my earnings amounted to eight or ten francs. That would have been enough for my needs; but for Leoni it was utter poverty. He longed for a hundred impossible things; he complained bitterly, savagely, because he was not richer. He often reproached me for having paid his debts and for not having fled with him and with my money too. To calm him, I was obliged to convince him that it would have been impossible for me to get him out of prison and commit that piece of rascality. He would stand at the windows and swear horribly at the rich people driving by in their carriages. He would point to his shabby clothes and say with an accent that I cannot possibly imitate: "Can'tyou help me to obtain a better coat?Won'tyou do it?" He finally told me so often that I could rescue him from his distress, and that it was cruel and selfish of me to leave him in that condition, that I thought that he was mad and no longer tried to argue with him on the subject. I held my peace whenever he recurred to it, and concealed my tears, which served only to irritate him. He thought that I understood his abominable hints and called my silence inhuman indifference and stupid obstinacy. Several times he struck me savagely and would have killed me if some one had not come to my assistance. It is true that when these paroxysms had passed, he threw himself at my feet and implored me with tears in his eyes to forgive him. But I avoided these scenes of reconciliation so far as I could, for the emotion caused a fresh shock to his nerves and provoked a return of the outbreaks. At last this irritability ceased and gave place to a sort of dull, stupid despair which was even more horrible. He would gaze at me with a gloomy expression, and seemed to nourish a secret aversion for me and projects of revenge. Sometimes I woke in the middle of the night and saw him standing by my bed, his face wearing a sinister expression; at such times I thought that he meant to kill me, and I shrieked with fear. But he would simply shrug his shoulders and return to his bed with a stupid laugh.
In spite of everything I loved him still, not as he was, but because of what he had been and might become again. There were times when I had hopes that a blessed revolution was taking place in him, and that he would come forth from that crisis a new man, cleansed of all his evil inclinations. He seemed no longer to think of satisfying them, nor did he express regret or desire for anything whatsoever. I could not imagine the subject of the long meditations by which he seemed to be absorbed. Most of the time his eyes were fixed upon me with such a strange expression that I was afraid of him. I dared not speak to him, but I asked his forgiveness by imploring glances. Then I would imagine that his own glance melted and that his breast rose with an imperceptible sigh; he would turn his head away as if he wished to conceal or stifle his emotion, and would fall to musing again. At such times I flattered myself that he was engaged in making salutary reflections concerning the past, and that he would soon open his heart to tell me that he had conceived a hatred of vice and a love of virtue.
My hopes grew fainter when the Marquis de —— reappeared on the scene. He never entered my apartments, because he knew the horror I had of him; but he would pass under the windows and call Leoni, or come to my door and knock in a peculiar way to let him know that he was there. Then Leoni would go out with him and remain away a long while. One day I saw them pass and repass several times; the Vicomte de Chalm was with them.
"Leoni is lost," I thought, "and I too; some fresh crime will soon be committed under my eyes."
That evening Leoni came home late; and, as he left his companions at the street door, I heard him say these words:
"But you can tell her that I am mad, absolutely mad; and that otherwise I would never have consented to it. She must know well enough that want has driven me mad."
I dared not ask him for any explanation, and I served his modest supper. He did not touch it but began to poke the fire nervously; then he asked me for ether, and, having taken a large dose, went to bed and seemed to sleep. I worked every evening as long as I could, until I was overcome by drowsiness and fatigue. That night I went to bed at midnight. I was hardly in bed when I heard a slight noise, and it seemed to me that Leoni was dressing to go out. I spoke to him and asked what he was doing.
"Nothing," he said, "I was just getting up to come to you; but I don't like your light, you know that it affects my nerves and gives me horrible pains in the head; put it out."
I obeyed.
"Have you done it?" he said. "Now go to bed again, I am coming to kiss you; wait a moment."
This mark of affection, which he had not bestowed upon me for several weeks, made my poor heart leap with joy and hope. I flattered myself that the revival of his affection would lead to the recovery of reason and conscience. I sat on the edge of my bed and awaited him with the utmost joy. He came and threw himself into my arms, which were wide open to receive him, and, embracing me passionately, threw me back upon my bed. But, at that instant, a feeling of distrust, due to the protection of heaven or the delicacy of my instinct, led me to pass my hand over the face of the man who was embracing me. Leoni had allowed his beard and moustaches to grow since he had been ill; I found a smooth, clean-shaven face. I gave a shriek and pushed him away with all my force.
"What is the matter?" said Leoni's voice.
"Have you shaved your beard," I said.
"As you see," he replied.
But I noticed that while his voice was speaking at my ear, another mouth was clinging to mine. I shook myself free with the strength which wrath and despair give, and, rushing to the other end of the room, hurriedly turned up the lamp, which I had lowered but had not put out. I saw Lord Edwards seated on the edge of the bed, bewildered and disconcerted,—I believe that he was drunk,—and Leoni coming toward me with a desperate look in his eyes.
"Wretch!" I cried.
"Juliette," he said, with haggard eyes and in a muffled voice, "yield if you love me. It is a question of rescuing me from this destitution, in which, as you see, I am eating my heart out. It is a question of life and reason with me, as you know. My salvation will be the reward of your devotion; and, as for yourself, you will be rich and happy with a man who has loved you for a long while, and who considers no price too great to pay to obtain you. Consent, Juliette," he added under his breath, "or I will kill you when he has left the room."
Terror deprived me of all judgment. I jumped through the window at the risk of killing myself. Some soldiers who were passing picked me up and carried me into the house unconscious. When I came to myself, Leoni and his confederates had left the house. They declared that I had jumped from the window in the delirium of brain fever, while they had gone into another room to call for help. They had feigned the greatest consternation. Leoni had remained until the surgeon who attended me declared that I had broken no bones. Then he had gone out saying that he would return, but he had not been seen for two days. He did not return, and I never saw him again.
Here Juliette finished her narrative and fell back on her couch, overwhelmed with fatigue and sadness.
"It was then, my poor child," I said, "that I made your acquaintance. I was living in the same house. The story of your accident aroused my interest. Soon I learned that you were young and worthy of a serious attachment; that Leoni, after treating you with great brutality, had abandoned you when you were critically ill and in want. I desired to see you; you were delirious when I approached your bed. O, Juliette, how lovely you were, with your bare shoulders, your dishevelled hair, your lips burning with the fire of fever, and your face animated by the excitement of suffering! How lovely you still seemed to me when, prostrated by fatigue, you fell back on your pillow, pale and drooping, like a white rose shedding its leaves in the hot sun of midday! I could not tear myself away from you. I felt a thrill of irresistible sympathy; I was impelled by such a deep interest as nobody had ever aroused in me. I sent for the leading physicians of the city; I procured for you all the comforts that you lacked. Poor deserted girl! I passed whole nights by your bedside, I saw your despair, I understood your love. I had never loved; it seemed to me that no woman was capable of returning the passion that I was capable of feeling. I sought a heart as fervent as mine. I distrusted all those that I put to the test, and I soon realized the prudence of my self-restraint when I saw the coldness and frivolity of the hearts of those women. Yours seemed to me the only one capable of understanding me. A woman who could love and suffer as you had done was the realization of all my dreams. I desired to obtain your affection, but without much hope of success. What gave me the presumption to try to console you was my absolute certainty that I loved you sincerely and generously. All that you said in your delirium taught me to know you just as well and thoroughly as our subsequent intimacy has done. I knew that you were a sublime creature from the prayers that you addressed to God, aloud, in a tone of which no words can describe the heart-rending purity. You prayed for forgiveness for Leoni, always forgiveness, never vengeance! You invoked the souls of your parents; you described to them breathlessly the misfortunes by which you had expiated your flight and their sorrow. Sometimes you took me for Leoni, and poured out crushing reproaches upon me; at other times you thought that you were with him in Switzerland, and you embraced me passionately. It would have been easy for me then to abuse your error, and the love that was gaining headway in my breast made your frantic caresses a veritable torture. But I would have died rather than yield to my desires, and the villainy of Lord Edwards, of which you talked constantly, seems to me the most degrading infamy of which a man could be guilty. At last I had the good fortune to save your life and your reason, my dear Juliette. Since then I have suffered bitterly, and I have been very happy through you. I am a fool perhaps not to be content with the friendship and the possession of such a woman as you, but my love is insatiable. I long to be loved as Leoni was, and I torment you with that foolish ambition. I have not his eloquence and his fascinations, but I love you. I have not deceived you; I will never deceive you. It is time for your heart, so long shattered by fatigue, to find rest while sleeping on mine. Juliette! Juliette! when will you love me as you are capable of loving?"
"Now and forever," she replied. "You saved me, you cured me, and you love me. I was mad, I see it now, to love such a man. All this that I have told you has brought before my eyes anew a multitude of vile things. Now I feel nothing but horror for the past, and I do not mean to recur to it again. You have done well to let me tell it all to you. I am calm now, and I feel that I can never again love his memory. You are my friend; you are my savior, my brother and my lover."
"Say your husband too, Juliette, I implore you!"
"My husband, if you will," she said, embracing me with a fondness which she had never manifested so warmly, and which brought tears of joy and gratitude to my eyes.
I awoke the next day so happy that I thought no more about leaving Venice. The weather was superb, the sun as mild as in spring. Fashionably dressed women thronged the quays and laughed at the jests of the maskers, who, half reclining on the rails of the bridges, teased the passers-by, and made impertinent and flattering remarks to the ugly and pretty women respectively. It was Mardi Gras; a sad anniversary for Juliette. I was anxious to distract her thoughts, so suggested that we should go out, and she agreed.
I looked proudly at her as she walked by my side. It is not the custom to offer one's arm to a lady in Venice, but simply to support her by grasping her elbow as you go up and down the white marble stairways which confront you whenever you cross a canal. Juliette was so graceful and lithe in all her movements that I took a childish delight in feeling her lean gently on my hand as we crossed the bridges. Everybody turned to look at her, and the women, who never take pleasure in another woman's beauty, observed with interest, at all events, the refinement of her dress and her bearing, which they would have been glad to copy. It seems to me that I can still see Juliette's costume and her graceful figure. She wore a gown of violet velvet with an ermine boa and small muff. Her white satin hat framed her face, which was still pale, but so exquisitely beautiful that, despite seven or eight years of fatigue and mental unhappiness, no one thought her more than eighteen. She wore violet silk stockings, so transparent that one could see through them the alabaster whiteness of her flesh. When she had passed and her face could no longer be seen, people followed with their eyes her tiny feet, so rare in Italy. I was happy to have her thus admired; I told her so, and she smiled at me with a sweet, affectionate expression. God! how happy I was!
A gayly-decorated boat, filled with maskers and musicians, was coming along the Giudecca canal. I suggested to Juliette that we take a gondola and row near to it, to see the costumes. She assented. Several parties followed our example, and we soon found ourselves entangled in a group of gondolas and skiffs which, with ourselves, accompanied the decorated vessel and seemed to serve as an escort to it.
THE MEETING ON THE CANAL.A gayly-decorated boat filled with maskers and musicians was coming along the Giudecca Canal. I suggested to Juliette that we take a gondola and row near to it, to see the costumes. She assented.
THE MEETING ON THE CANAL.
A gayly-decorated boat filled with maskers and musicians was coming along the Giudecca Canal. I suggested to Juliette that we take a gondola and row near to it, to see the costumes. She assented.
We heard the gondoliers say that the party of maskers was composed of the richest and most fashionable young men in Venice. They were, in truth, dressed with extreme magnificence; their costumes were very rich, and the boat was decorated with silken sails, streamers of silver gauze and Oriental rugs of very great beauty. They were dressed like the ancient Venetians whom Paul Veronese, by a happy anachronism, has introduced in several devotional pictures, notably in the magnificentNuptials, which the Republic of Venice presented to Louis XIV., and which is now in the Musée at Paris. I noticed especially one man near the rail of the boat, dressed in a long robe of pale green silk, embroidered with long arabesques in gold and silver. He was standing, and playing on the guitar; his attitude was so noble, his tall figure so perfectly formed, that he seemed to have been made expressly to wear those rich garments. I called Juliette's attention to him; she looked up at him mechanically, hardly seeing him, and answered: "Yes, yes, superb!" thinking of something else.
We continued to follow, and, being crowded by the other boats, touched the decorated vessel just where this man stood. Juliette was standing by my side and leaning against the awning of the gondola to avoid being thrown backward by the shocks we often received. Suddenly this man leaned toward Juliette as if to see her more distinctly, passed his guitar to his neighbor, tore off his black mask and turned toward us again. I saw his face, which was beautiful and noble, if ever human face was. Juliette did not see him. Thereupon he called her name in an undertone, and she started as if she had received an electric shock.
"Juliette!" he repeated in a louder voice.
"Leoni!" she cried, frantic with joy.
It is still like a dream to me. A mist passed before my eyes; I lost the sense of sight for a second, I believe. Juliette rushed forward, impulsively and with energy. Suddenly I saw her transported as if by magic to the other boat, into Leoni's arms; their lips met in a delirious kiss. The blood rushed to my brain, roared in my ears, covered my eyes with a thicker veil. I do not know what happened. I came to myself as I was entering the hotel. I was alone; Juliette had gone with Leoni.
I flew into a frenzy of passion, and for three hours I raved like an epileptic. Toward night I received a letter from Juliette, thus conceived:
"Forgive me, forgive me, Bustamente; I love you, I respect you and I bless you on my knees for your love and your benefactions. Do not hate me; you know that I do not belong to myself, that an invisible hand controls my actions and throws me against my will into that man's arms. O my friend, forgive me and do not seek revenge. I love him, I cannot live without him. I cannot know that he exists without longing for him, I cannot see him pass without following him. I am his wife, you see, and he is my master; it is impossible for me to escape from his passion and his authority. You saw whether I was able to resist his summons. There was something like an electric current, a magnet, which lifted me up and drew me to his heart, and yet I was by your side, I had my hand in yours. Why did you not hold me back? you had not the power; your hand opened, your lips were powerless to call me back; you see that it is beyond our control. There is a hidden will, a magic power, which ordains and accomplishes these strange things. I cannot break the chain that binds me to Leoni, it is the fetter that couples galley-slaves, but it was God's hand that welded it."O my dear Aleo, do not curse me! I am at your feet. I implore you to let me be happy. If you knew how dearly he loves me still, with what joy he received me! what caresses, what words, what tears! I am as one drunk, I seem to be dreaming. I must forget his crime against me: he was mad. After deserting me, he reached Naples in such a state of mental alienation that he was confined in an insane asylum. I do not know by what miracle he was cured and discharged, nor to what lucky chance he owes it that he is now once more at the very pinnacle of wealth. But he is handsomer, more brilliant, more passionate than ever. Let me, oh! let me love him, though I am destined to be happy but a single day and to die to-morrow. Should not you forgive me for loving him so madly, you who have an equally blind and misplaced passion for me?"Forgive me; I am mad; I know not what I am saying nor what it is that I ask you. It is not to take me back and forgive me when he has abandoned me again; oh, no! I have too much pride, never fear. I feel that I no longer deserve you, that when I rushed into that boat I cut myself adrift from you forever, that I can never again look you in the face or touch your hand. Adieu then, Aleo! Yes, I am writing to bid you adieu, for I cannot part from you without telling you that my heart is already bleeding, and that it will break some day with regret and repentance. I tell you, you will be avenged! Calm yourself now, forgive, pity me, pray for me; be sure that I am no insensible ingrate who does not appreciate your character and her duty to you. I am only an unhappy creature whom fatality drives hither and thither, and who has not the power to stop. I turn my face to you and send you a thousand farewells, a thousand kisses, a thousand blessings. But the tempest envelopes me and carries me off. As I perish on the reefs on which it is certain to hurl me, I will repeat your name and invoke your intercession as an angel of forgiveness between God and me."JULIETTE."
"Forgive me, forgive me, Bustamente; I love you, I respect you and I bless you on my knees for your love and your benefactions. Do not hate me; you know that I do not belong to myself, that an invisible hand controls my actions and throws me against my will into that man's arms. O my friend, forgive me and do not seek revenge. I love him, I cannot live without him. I cannot know that he exists without longing for him, I cannot see him pass without following him. I am his wife, you see, and he is my master; it is impossible for me to escape from his passion and his authority. You saw whether I was able to resist his summons. There was something like an electric current, a magnet, which lifted me up and drew me to his heart, and yet I was by your side, I had my hand in yours. Why did you not hold me back? you had not the power; your hand opened, your lips were powerless to call me back; you see that it is beyond our control. There is a hidden will, a magic power, which ordains and accomplishes these strange things. I cannot break the chain that binds me to Leoni, it is the fetter that couples galley-slaves, but it was God's hand that welded it.
"O my dear Aleo, do not curse me! I am at your feet. I implore you to let me be happy. If you knew how dearly he loves me still, with what joy he received me! what caresses, what words, what tears! I am as one drunk, I seem to be dreaming. I must forget his crime against me: he was mad. After deserting me, he reached Naples in such a state of mental alienation that he was confined in an insane asylum. I do not know by what miracle he was cured and discharged, nor to what lucky chance he owes it that he is now once more at the very pinnacle of wealth. But he is handsomer, more brilliant, more passionate than ever. Let me, oh! let me love him, though I am destined to be happy but a single day and to die to-morrow. Should not you forgive me for loving him so madly, you who have an equally blind and misplaced passion for me?
"Forgive me; I am mad; I know not what I am saying nor what it is that I ask you. It is not to take me back and forgive me when he has abandoned me again; oh, no! I have too much pride, never fear. I feel that I no longer deserve you, that when I rushed into that boat I cut myself adrift from you forever, that I can never again look you in the face or touch your hand. Adieu then, Aleo! Yes, I am writing to bid you adieu, for I cannot part from you without telling you that my heart is already bleeding, and that it will break some day with regret and repentance. I tell you, you will be avenged! Calm yourself now, forgive, pity me, pray for me; be sure that I am no insensible ingrate who does not appreciate your character and her duty to you. I am only an unhappy creature whom fatality drives hither and thither, and who has not the power to stop. I turn my face to you and send you a thousand farewells, a thousand kisses, a thousand blessings. But the tempest envelopes me and carries me off. As I perish on the reefs on which it is certain to hurl me, I will repeat your name and invoke your intercession as an angel of forgiveness between God and me.
"JULIETTE."
This letter caused a fresh attack of frenzy; then I fell into despair; I sobbed like a child for several hours; and, succumbing to fatigue, I fell asleep in my chair, in that vast room where Juliette had told me her story the night before. I awoke more calm; I lighted the fire and paced the floor back and forth several times with slow and measured step.
As the day was breaking I fell asleep again: my mind was made up; I was calm. At nine o'clock I went and made inquiries throughout the city, trying to get information as to certain details which I needed to know about. Nobody knew by what means Leoni had made his fortune; it was known simply that he was rich, extravagant and dissipated; all the men of fashion frequented his house, copied his dress and were his companions in debauchery. The Marquis de —— accompanied him everywhere and shared his opulence; both were in love with a famous courtesan, and, by virtue of a most extraordinary caprice, that woman refused their offers. Her resistance had so stimulated Leoni's desire that he had made her the most extravagant promises, and there was no folly into which she could not lead him.
I called at her house and had much trouble in obtaining an audience. I was admitted at last, and she received me with a haughty air, asking me what I wanted, in the tone of a person who is in a hurry to dismiss an importunate caller.
"I have come to ask a favor at your hands," I said. "You hate Leoni?"
"Yes, I hate him mortally."
"May I ask you why?"
"He seduced a young sister of mine at Friuli, a virtuous, saint-like child; she died in the hospital. I would like to eat Leoni's heart."
"Meanwhile, will you assist me to play a cruel practical joke on him?"
"Yes."
"Will you write to him and give him an assignation?"
"Yes, provided that I do not keep it."
"That is understood. Here is a sketch of the note you must write him:"
"I know that you have found your wife again and that you love her. I did not want you yesterday, you seemed too easy a conquest; to-day it seems to me that it will be interesting to make you unfaithful; moreover, I am anxious to know if your frantic desire to possess me makes you capable of everything, as you boast. I know that you are to give a concert on the water this evening; I will be in a gondola and will follow you. You know my gondolier, Cristofano; be near the rail of your boat and leap into my gondola as soon as you see it. I will keep you an hour, after which I shall have had enough of you forever, perhaps. I want none of your presents; I want only this proof of your love. This evening or never."
"I know that you have found your wife again and that you love her. I did not want you yesterday, you seemed too easy a conquest; to-day it seems to me that it will be interesting to make you unfaithful; moreover, I am anxious to know if your frantic desire to possess me makes you capable of everything, as you boast. I know that you are to give a concert on the water this evening; I will be in a gondola and will follow you. You know my gondolier, Cristofano; be near the rail of your boat and leap into my gondola as soon as you see it. I will keep you an hour, after which I shall have had enough of you forever, perhaps. I want none of your presents; I want only this proof of your love. This evening or never."
La Misana thought the note very singular in tone and copied it laughingly.
"What will you do with him when you have him in the gondola?"
"Set him ashore on the bank of the Lido and let him pass a long, cool night there."
"I would gladly kiss you to show my gratitude," said the courtesan; "but I have a lover whom I propose to love all the week. Adieu."
"You must place your gondolier at my orders," I said.
"To be sure; he is intelligent, discreet and strong; do with him as you will."
I returned to the hotel and passed the rest of the day reflecting deeply upon what I was to do. Night came; Cristofano and the gondola were waiting under my window. I dressed myself like a gondolier; Leoni's boat appeared, decorated with colored lanterns, which gleamed like gems, from the top of the masts to the end of every piece of rigging, and sending up rockets in all directions in the intervals between the bursts of music. I stood at the stern of the gondola, oar in hand; I rowed alongside. Leoni was by the rail, in the same costume as on the night before; Juliette was sitting among the musicians; she too wore a magnificent costume, but she was downcast and pensive, and seemed not to be thinking of him. Cristofano removed his hat and raised his lantern to the level of his face. Leoni recognized him and leaped into the gondola.
As soon as he was on board, Cristofano informed him that La Misana was awaiting him in another gondola near the public garden.
"What's that? why isn't she here?" he asked.
"Non so," replied the gondolier indifferently, and he began to row. I seconded him vigorously, and in a few moments we had passed the public garden. We were surrounded by a dense mist. Leoni leaned forward several times and asked if we were not almost there. We continued to glide smoothly over the placid surface of the lagoon; the moon, pale and swathed in mist, whitened the atmosphere without lightening it. We passed like smugglers the line which cannot ordinarily be passed without a permit from the police, and did not pause until we reached the sandy bank of the Lido, far enough away to be in no danger of meeting a living being.
"Knaves!" cried our prisoner. "Where the devil have you taken me? Where are the stairways of the public gardens? Where is La Misana's gondola?Ventre-Dieu! We are on sand! You have gone astray in the mist, clowns that you are, and you have set me ashore at random——"
"No, signor," I said in Italian; "be kind enough to take ten steps with me and you will find the person you seek."
He followed me; whereupon Cristofano, in accordance with my orders, instantly rowed away with the gondola, and went to wait for me in the lagoon on the other side of the island.
"Will you stop, brigand?" cried Leoni, when we had walked along the beach for several minutes. "Do you wish me to freeze here? Where is your mistress? Where are you taking me?"
"Signor," I rejoined, turning and drawing from under my cape the objects I had brought, "allow me to light your path."
With that I produced my dark lantern, opened it, and hung it on one of the posts on the bank.
"What the devil are you doing there?" he said; "have I a madman to deal with? What does this mean?"
"It means," I said, taking the swords from beneath my cloak, "that you must fight with me."
"With you, you cur! I'll beat you as you deserve."
"One moment," I said, taking him by the collar with an energy which staggered him a little. "I am not what you think; I am noble as well as yourself. Moreover, I am an honest man and you are a scoundrel. Therefore I do you much honor by fighting with you."
It seemed to me that my adversary trembled and was inclined to run away. I pressed him more closely.
"What do you want of me?" he cried. "Damnation! who are you? I don't know you. Why have you brought me here? Do you mean to murder me? I have no money about me. Are you a thief?"
"No," I said, "there is no thief and murderer here but yourself, as you well know."
"Are you my enemy?"
"Yes, I am your enemy."
"What is your name?"
"That does not concern you; you will find out if you kill me."
"And what if I don't choose to kill you?" he cried, shrugging his shoulders and struggling to appear self-possessed.
"In that case you will allow me to kill you," I replied, "for I give you my word that one of us two is destined to remain here to-night."
"You are a villain," he cried, making frantic efforts to escape. "Help! help!"
"That is quite useless," I said; "the noise of the waves drowns your voice, and you are a long way from human help. Keep quiet, or I will strangle you. Don't lose your temper, but make the most of the chances of safety I give you. I propose to kill you, not murder you. You know what that means. Fight with me, and do not compel me to take advantage of my superior strength, which must be evident to you."
As I spoke, I shook him by the shoulders and made him bend like a reed, although he was a full head taller than I. He realized that he was at my mercy, and tried to argue with me.
"But, signor," he said, "if you are not mad, you must have some reason for fighting with me. What have I done to you?"
"It does not please me to tell you," I replied, "and you are a coward to ask for my reasons for revenge, when you should demand satisfaction of me."
"What for?" he rejoined. "I never saw you before. It is not light enough for me to distinguish your features, but I am sure that this is the first time that I ever heard your voice."
"Dastard, have you no cause to be revenged on a man who has made sport of you, who has procured an assignation to be given you in order to play a joke upon you, and who has brought you here against your will to insult you? I was told that you were brave. Must I strike you to arouse your courage?"
"You are an insolent scoundrel," he said, making an effort to work himself into a passion.
"Very good! I demand satisfaction for that remark, and I propose to take satisfaction at once with this blow."
I struck him lightly on the cheek. He uttered a roar of rage and fear.
"Have no fear," I said, holding him with one hand and giving him a sword with the other. "Defend yourself. I know that you are the first swordsman in Europe; I am far from being your equal. It is true that I am calm and you are frightened, which equalizes our chances."
Giving him no time to reply, I attacked him fiercely. The wretch threw his sword away and ran. I followed him, overtook him and shook him furiously. I threatened to throw him into the sea and drown him if he did not defend himself. When he saw that it was impossible for him to escape, he took the sword and mustered that desperate courage which love of life and unavoidable danger give to the most timid. But whether because the feeble light of the lantern did not allow him to measure his blows accurately, or because the fright he had experienced had taken away all his presence of mind, I found this terrible duellist pitifully weak. I was so determined not to slaughter him that I spared him a long while. At last he threw himself upon my sword, when trying to feint, and spitted himself up to the hilt.
"Justice! justice!" he said as he fell. "I am murdered!"
"You demand justice and you obtain it," I replied. "You die by my hand as Henryet died by yours."
He uttered a dull roar, bit the sand and gave up the ghost.
I took the two swords and started to find the gondola; but as I crossed the island I was seized with a thousand unfamiliar emotions. My strength suddenly failed me; I sat down upon one of those Hebraic tombs, half covered by the grass, which are ceaselessly beaten by the sharp salt winds from the Adriatic. The morn was beginning to come forth from the mist, and the white stones of that vast cemetery stood out against the dark verdure of the Lido. I reflected upon what I had done, and my revenge, from which I had anticipated so much joy, appeared to me in a most distressing light; I felt something like remorse, and yet I had thought that it was a legitimate and blessed act to purge the earth of that fiend incarnate and deliver Juliette from him. But I had not expected to find him a coward. I had hoped to meet a bold swordsman, and in attacking him I had thought that I was sacrificing my life. I was disturbed and almost appalled to have taken his life so easily. I did not find that my hatred was satisfied by vengeance, but I did feel that it was extinguished by contempt.—"When I found what a coward he was," I thought, "I should have spared him; I should have forgotten my resentment against him and my love for a woman capable of preferring such a man to me."
Thereupon confused, painful, agitated thoughts rushed into my brain. The cold, the darkness, the sight of those tombs calmed me at intervals; they plunged me into a dreamy stupor from which I awoke with a violent and painful shock when I suddenly remembered my situation, Juliette's despair, which would burst forth on the morrow, and the aspect of that corpse lying on the blood-stained sand not far away.
"Perhaps he is not dead," I thought.
I had a vague desire to go to see. I would almost have been glad to restore him to life. The first rays of dawn surprised me in this irresolute frame of mind, and I reflected that prudence required me to leave that spot.
I went and found Cristofano, who was sound asleep in his gondola, and whom I had much difficulty in waking. The sight of that placid slumber aroused my envy. Like Macbeth, I had taken leave of it for a long time to come.
I returned, gently rocked by the waves which the approach of the sun had already tipped with pink. I passed quite near the steamboat which runs from Venice to Trieste. It was its hour for starting; the wheels were already beating the water into foam, and red sparks flew upward from the funnel, with columns of black smoke. Several boats brought belated passengers. A gondola grated against ours and made fast to the packet. A man and woman left that gondola and ran lightly up the gangway. They were no sooner on the deck than the steamer started at full speed. The couple leaned over the rail to watch the wake. I recognized Juliette and Leoni. I thought that I was dreaming; I passed my hand over my eyes and called to Cristofano:
"Is that Baron Leone de Leoni starting for Trieste with a lady?"
"Yes, signor," he replied.
I uttered a horrible oath; then recalling the gondolier, I asked him:
"Who in God's name was the man we took to the Lido last night?"
"Why, as your Excellency knows," he replied, "it was Marquis Lorenzo de ——."