THE REVELATION.
There was a rather long silence, during which the guests remained
plunged in profound meditations.
At length don Adolfo broke the charm that seemed to enchain them, by
suddenly speaking again.
"The princess had a brother, at that time a young man of twenty-two
at the most, adroit in all manly exercises, brave as his sword, a
great favourite with the ladies, whose fondness he returned, and
who concealed beneath a frivolous exterior an earnest character, a
capacious intellect, and an indomitable will. This brother, whom we
will call Oclau, if you like, felt a sincere attachment for his sister;
he loved her for all that she had suffered, and was the first to urge
her to leave the palace of her defunct husband, and return to her
family, chaining her down, and rejecting the offer of service made by
the prince, her brother-in-law. Oclau felt a strong repulsion for the
prince, although there was nothing in the eyes of society to justify
the conduct he adopted towards him. Still, he did not break off all
relations with him; he visited him now and then, though rarely, it is
true. These interviews, always cold and constrained on the part of the
young man, were cordial and eager on that of the prince, who essayed by
his gracious manner, and continually renewed offers of services, to win
over again this man, whose aversion he had divined. The princess, who
had retired to her family, brought up her daughter far from the world,
with tenderness and absolute devotion. On her husband's death she put
on mourning, which she has not left off since: but this mourning she
wore even more in her heart than in her garments, for the catastrophe
which had deprived her of her husband was ever present to her mind, and
with the tenacity of loving hearts, for whom time does not progress,
her grief was as lively as on the first day; if at times, in the
retreat to which she voluntarily confined herself, her brother-in-law's
name was accidentally pronounced, a convulsive tremor suddenly agitated
her whole person, her pale face became livid, and her large eyes,
burned by fever, and inundated with tears, were at such times fixed on
her brother Oclau with a strange expression of reproach and despair,
seeming to say to him that the vengeance he had promised her was long
delayed. The prince, now a made man, had reflected that he was the last
of his race, and that it was urgent, if he did not wish the family
titles and estates to pass to distant collaterals, to have an heir to
his name; consequently, he commenced negotiations with several princely
families of the country, and at the period we have now reached, that
is to say, about eight years after his brother's death, there was a
strong report about the prince's marriage with the daughter of one of
the noblest houses of the Germanic Confederation. Nothing could be more
suitable than this alliance, destined to augment the already proverbial
importance and wealth of the house of Oppenheim-Schlewig: the lady
was young, fair, and connected by marriage to the reigning family of
Hapsburg. The prince, consequently, attached great importance to this
union, and hurried on its completion by all the means in his power.
While this was occurring, count Oclau was obliged by the settlement
of some important business, to leave home, and go for some days to a
town about twenty leagues distant. The young man bade farewell to his
sister, got into a post chaise, and set out. On the next day, at about
eight p.m., he arrived at the town of Bruneck, and stopped at a house
belonging to him, which was in the vicinity of the principal square of
the town, and only a few yards from the governor's palace."
"Bruneck is a very pretty little Tyrolese town, built on the right bank
of the Rienz; the population, amounting to fifteen or sixteen hundred
at the most, still retain the patriarchal, simple and stern manner
of sixty years ago. Count Oclau remarked with surprise on entering
the town that the greatest agitation prevailed there: in spite of
the advanced hour, the streets his chaise passed through were filled
with a restless crowd, who were running about in all directions with
singular vociferations; most of the houses were illuminated, while
large bonfires were lighted on the market square. So soon as the count
had entered his house; he inquired as he sat down to supper the cause
of this extraordinary excitement. This is what he learned:--Tyrol is
an excessively mountainous country--the Switzerland of Austria; now,
most of these mountains serve as lurking places for numerous bands of
malefactors, whose sole occupation is to plunder the travellers whom
their unlucky star brings within reach, to plunder the villages, and
even towns at times. For some years a bandit chief, more adroit and
enterprising than the rest, at the head of a considerable band of
resolute and well-disciplined men, had desolated the country, attacking
travellers, burning and plundering the villages, and not hesitating, in
case of need, to resist detachments of soldiers sent in pursuit of him,
who very frequently returned much maltreated from their encounters with
him. This man, in the end, inspired the population of this country with
such terror that the inhabitants had grown to tacitly recognize his
authority, and obey him tremblingly, as they felt persuaded that it was
impossible to vanquish him. The Austrian Government naturally refused
to admit this compact made with the brigands, and resolving to destroy
them at any price, employed the most energetic efforts to capture the
chief. For a very long period all the efforts were fruitless; this
man, admirably served by his spies, was kept perfectly well acquainted
with the attempts about to be made against him; he formed his plans in
consequence, and easily succeeded in escaping from his pursuers, and
foiling all the traps that were laid for him."
"But what force had been unable to affect treachery at last
accomplished. One of the associates of Red Arm (such was the bandit's
_alias_) dissatisfied with the share given him in a rich booty made
a few days previously, and believing himself injured by the chief,
resolved to take vengeance by betraying him."
"A week later Red Arm was surprised by the troop, and made prisoner
with the principal members of his band."
"The few men who escaped, demoralized by the capture of their chief,
soon fell in their turn into the hands of the soldiers, so that the
entire band was destroyed."
"The trial of the bandits was not a long one; they had been condemned
to death, and executed immediately. The chief and two of his first
lieutenants were alone reserved, in order to render their punishment
more exemplary. They were to be executed on the morrow, and that was
the reason why the town of Bruneck was in such a state of excitement."
"The neighbouring peasants had flocked out to witness the punishment
of the man before whom they had so long trembled, and in order not to
miss this spectacle which had such attractions for them, they camped in
the streets and in the squares, impatiently awaiting the hour for the
execution."
"The count attached but very slight importance to the news; and as he
felt tired from having travelled two days along execrable roads, he
prepared to go to bed soon after supper."
"Just as he was entering his bedroom a servant appeared, and exchanged
a few words in a low voice with the valet."
"'What is it?' count Oclau asked, turning round."
"'Pardon, my lord,' the servant respectfully replied, 'but a person
desires to speak to your Excellency.'"
"'Speak to me at this hour?' he said, in surprise, 'It is impossible;
I have hardly arrived ere my coming is known: tell the man to return
tomorrow, it is too late tonight.'"
"'I told him so, my lord, and he replied that tomorrow would be too
late.'"
"'This is extraordinary! Who is the man?'"
"'A priest, my lord, and he added, that what he has to tell your
Excellency is most serious, and that he earnestly implores you to
receive him.'"
"The young man, greatly perplexed at a visit at so late an hour,
repaired the disorder in his dress, and wandered to the dining room,
curious about the solution of this enigma."
"A priest was standing in the centre of the room. He was a very aged
man, his hair, white as snow, fell in long masses on his shoulders, and
gave him a venerable appearance, which was completed by the expression
of goodness and calm grandeur spread over his face."
"The count bowed to him respectfully, and begged him to be seated."
"'Excuse me, my lord,' he replied with a bow, and still remained on his
feet, 'I am the prison chaplain: you have doubtless heard of the arrest
of certain malefactors?'"
"'Yes, sir; some vague information on the subject has been given me.'"
"'Several of these unhappy men,' he continued, 'have already endured
the terrible fate to which human justice condemned them. The most
guilty of all, their chief, is about to undergo his at sunrise
tomorrow.'"
"'I am aware of it.'"
"'This man,' the chaplain went on, 'on the point of appearing before
God, his supreme judge, to whom he will have a terrible account to
render, has felt, owing to my efforts to lead him to repentance,
remorse enter his heart. Your arrival in this town which he learnt I
know not how, has appeared to him a warning of Providence. He at once
sent for me, and begged me to go to you, my lord.'"
"'To me!' the young man exclaimed, in amazement, 'What can there be in
common between me and this villain?'"
"'I do not know, my lord, for he told me nothing on that subject. He
implores you to proceed to his dungeon, as he desires to reveal to you
a secret of the highest importance.'"
"'What you say, confounds me, sir: this man is an utter stranger to me;
I do not comprehend in what way my life can be mixed up with his.'"
"'He will doubtless explain this to you, my lord; but I advise you
to consent to the interview this man implores,' the priest answered
without any hesitation. 'For many years I have been a prison chaplain,
and have seen many criminals die. Men do not speak falsely in the
presence of death. The strongest and bravest man becomes very small
and weak when facing that unknown thing called Eternity; he begins to
tremble, and, no longer daring to hope the goodness of men, he turns
to that of God. Red Arm, the unhappy man who is about to die tomorrow,
knows that nothing can save him from the terrible fate that awaits him:
hence, for what object would he, on the threshold of death, request an
interview with you, unless it be to redeem, by the revelation he wishes
to make to you, one of his most horrible crimes, though it is possibly
the least known of all. Believe me, my lord, the hand of Providence is
in all this: it is no accident that brought you to this town precisely
at the moment of this terrible expiation. Consent to follow me, and
enter with me the dungeon where this unhappy man is doubtless awaiting,
with the most lively anxiety, and while counting the minutes, your
arrival. Even supposing that this revelation does not possess for you
the importance this unhappy man fancies, could you refuse to grant
this last consolation to a man who is about so fatally to be erased
from the number of the living? I implore you, my lord, to consent to
follow me.'"
"The young man's determination was soon formed. He wrapped himself in a
cloak and set out of his house, accompanied by the priest. In spite of
the late hour, for it was near midnight, the square was full of people.
The crowd, far from diminishing, was increased every moment by the
arrival of newcomers, who flocked in from the neighbouring villages.
Bivouacs were everywhere established. The count and his guide forced
their way with some difficulty through the crowd up to the prison, in
front of which several sentries were posted."
"At a word from the chaplain the prison door was immediately opened.
The count entered, and preceded by the worthy priest, and followed by a
gaoler they went toward the condemned man's cell."
"The gaoler, with a torch in his hand, silently guided the two visitors
along a numerous series of passages, and then, on reaching a door
barred with iron from top to bottom, he checked him, uttering but one
word:--'Enter!'"
"They went into the dungeon--we employ this usual term, although
nothing less resembled a dungeon than the room they entered. It was a
rather spacious cell, lighted by two gothic windows, lined with heavy
bars on the exterior. The furniture consisted of a bed, that is to say,
a frame on which a cow hide was stretched, a table and various chairs,
while a looking glass hung on the wall. At the end of the room was an
altar hung with black, for the condemned man was in chapel. Daily,
since the passing of the sentence, the chaplain had said two low masses
there for the culprit."
At this singular account of the _capilla_ which only exists in Spain
and her dependencies, the two hearers exchanged a side glance which the
adventurer did not remark. The latter went on, without suspecting the
error he had unreflectingly committed.
"The condemned man was seated in an _equipal_, with his head in his
hand, with his elbow on the table, he was reading by the light of a
smoky lamp."
"On the entrance of the visitors he immediately rose and bowed to them
with the most exquisite politeness."
"'Gentlemen, pray take seats, and do me the honour of awaiting for
a few minutes the arrival of the persons I have sent for,' he said,
drawing up _butacas_, 'their presence is indispensable, for at a later
date no one must be able to cast a doubt on the truth of the revelation
I wish to make to you.'"
"The chaplain and the count gave a sign of assent and sat down. There
was a silence for some minutes, only interrupted by the regular steps
of the sentry stationed in the passage to guard the condemned man, and
who passed and repassed in front of his dungeon."
"Red Arm had returned to his _equipal_, and seemed to be reflecting.
The count took advantage of this circumstance to examine him
attentively."
"He was a man of not more than forty years of age, he was of tall
stature, and powerfully built, and his gestures displayed ease and
elegance. His rather large head was, doubtless through a habit of
commanding, thrown back, his features were handsome and strongly
marked, while his glance had extraordinary intensity. A singular
expression of gentleness and energy that was spread over his face,
gave it a strange look impossible to describe; his black hair curling
naturally, fell in large curls on his broad shoulders. His costume,
entirely of black velvet, and peculiarly cut, formed a contrast to the
dull pallor of his complexion, and added, even if possible, to the
striking appearance of his whole person."
"A sound of footsteps was heard outside, a key grated in the lock, and
the door opened: two men appeared. The gaoler, after introducing them
into the dungeon without saying a word, went out and closed the door
after him. The first of these two men was the director of the prison,
an active old gentleman still, in spite of his seventy years, with
calm features and venerable aspect, whose white hair cut short on his
temples fell behind on his coat collar. The second was an officer--a
major his gold epaulettes proved; he was young, and appeared scarce
thirty, while his features had nothing very remarkable about them: he
was one of those men born to wear a uniform, and who if dressed in
civilian garb would appear ridiculous, so thoroughly are they created
for a soldier's harness. Both bowed politely, and waited, without
uttering a word, till they received an explanation of the request
sent them to come to this dungeon. The condemned man understood their
motive. After the first salutations had been exchanged, he hastened to
make known to them his motive for requesting them to come to him at
this supreme moment when he had nothing more to hope from man."
"'Gentlemen,' he said to them in a firm, voice, 'in a few short hours
I shall have satisfied human justice, and will appear before that
of God, which is far more terrible. Since the day when I began the
implacable struggle which I have carried on against society, I have
committed many crimes, secured many hatreds, and been the accomplice of
an incalculable number of odious actions. The sentence passed on me is
just, and though resolved to undergo--like a man whom death has never
terrified--the punishment to which I am condemned, I think it my duty
to confess to you with the greatest sincerity and deepest humility that
I repent of my crimes, and that, far from dying impenitent, I shall die
imploring God not to pardon me, but to regard my repentance with pity.'"
"'Good, my son,' the chaplain said gently; 'take refuge in God, His
mercy is infinite.'"
"There was a silence of some minutes, which Red Arm was the first to
interrupt."
"'I should have liked at this supreme moment,' he said, 'to repair
the evil I have done. Alas! This is impossible, my victims are really
gone, and no human power would be able to restore them the life of
which I so cowardly deprived them; but among these crimes there is
one--the most frightful of all perhaps--which, it is true, I cannot
fully repair, but whose effects I hope to neutralize by revealing to
you its sinister incidents, and divulging to you the name of the man
who was my accomplice. God, by unexpectedly bringing count Oclau to
this town, doubtless wished to force me to this expiation; I submit
without a murmur to His will, and perhaps He will deign to pity me
on account of my obedience. Gentlemen, in requesting you to come to
me, I wish to procure the person most interested in my narrative, the
indispensable witnesses who will enable human justice to punish the
criminal hereafter without fear of error. Hence, gentlemen, take note
of my words, for I swear to you on the brink of the tomb that they are
perfectly true.'"
"The condemned man ceased, and appeared to be collecting his thoughts.
His hearers waited with the most eager curiosity; the count more
especially tried in vain to conceal by a cold and stern air the
anxiety that was contracting his heart. A secret presentiment warned
him that the light was at length about to shine, and that the hitherto
impenetrable secret which surrounded his family, and the clue of
which he had so long sought, was about to be divulged to him. Red Arm
continued, after selecting from among the papers that crowded his table
a rather large bundle, which he opened and placed before him."
"'Though eight years have elapsed,' he said, 'since the period when
these events happened, they have remained so fresh in my mind that as
soon as I heard of the arrival of count Oclau in this town, a few hours
sufficed me to write a detailed account of them. I am about to read
to you, gentlemen, this frightful story, after which each of you will
attach his signature beneath mine at the end of this manuscript, in
order to give it the necessary authenticity for the use which the count
will think it his duty to turn it to hereafter on behalf of his family,
and to punish the guilty man. I in all this have only been the paid
accomplice and the instrument employed to strike the victim.'"
"'This precaution is very good,' the prison director then said: 'we
will sign this revelation unhesitatingly, of whatever nature it may
be.'"
"'Thanks, gentlemen,' the count remarked, 'though I am as ignorant as
yourselves of the facts which are about to be revealed; still, for
certain private reasons, I feel almost convinced that what I am going
to hear is of great importance to the happiness of certain members of
my family.'"
"'You shall be the judge of that, my lord,' the condemned man said, and
immediately began reading his manuscripts."
"This reading lasted nearly two hours. The result of the collected
facts was this: first, that when the Prince of Oppenheim-Schlewig was
killed, the bullet came from the gun of Red Arm, who was concealed
in a thicket, and paid by the prince's younger son to commit this
parricide. Once he had entered on this slippery path of crime, the
young man followed it without hesitation or remorse in order to reach
the object he meditated, that of seizing the paternal fortune. After
a parricide, a fratricide was nothing to him, and he executed it with
a Machiavellism full of atrocious precautions. Other crimes, more
awful still were it possible, were recorded with a truth of detail so
striking, and supported by such undeniable proofs, that the witnesses
summoned by the condemned criminal asked themselves, with horror,
if it were possible that such an atrocious monster could exist, and
what horrible punishment was reserved for him by that divine justice
which he had mocked with such frightful cynicism for so many years.
The princess, on learning her husband's death, had been seized by the
pangs of childbirth, and was delivered--not of a daughter as everybody
believed--but of twins, of whom the boy was carried off, and the prince
got rid of him in order to annul the clause in his brother's will which
left to his posthumous son the titles and entire fortune of the family."
"The count, with his face buried in his hands, fancied himself
suffering from a horrible nightmare; in spite of the aversion he had
ever felt for his brother-in-law, he would never have dared suspect him
capable of committing so coldly, and at lengthened intervals, a series
of odious crimes patiently arranged and meditated under the impulse
of the vilest and most contemptible of all passions, the thirst for
gold. He asked himself if, in spite of undeniable proofs he had thus
unexpectedly obtained, there was in the whole empire a tribunal which
would dare assume the possibility of punishing crimes so odious and so
beyond human nature. On the other hand this revelation, if made public,
would irresistibly dishonour a family to which he was closely allied:
would not this dishonour be reflected on his own family? All these
thoughts whirled in the count's brain, causing him horrible grief, and
increasing his perplexity, for he knew not what resolution to form in
so serious a case, he dared not ask advice of anyone, or seek support."
"Red Arm rose, and walking up to the count, said--'My lord, take this
manuscript, it is now yours.'"
"The count mechanically took the manuscript which was offered him."
"'I can understand your astonishment and horror, sir,' the condemned
man continued; 'these things are so terrible, that in spite of these
stamps of truth, the exceptional circumstances under which they were
written, and the authority of the persons who have signed the statement
after hearing it read, it runs the risk of being doubted; hence I wish
to protect you from all suspicion of imposture, my lord, by adding to
this document some undeniable proofs.'"
"'Do you possess them?' the count said, with a start."
"'I do. Be good enough to open this portfolio: it contains twenty odd
letters from your brother-in-law, addressed to me, and all relating to
the facts recorded in this manuscript.'"
"'Oh, Heavens!' the count exclaimed, clasping his hands; but suddenly
turning to Red Arm, he added,--"
"'This is strange.'"
"The convict smiled."
"'I understand you,' he answered; 'you are asking yourself how it is
that, holding letters so compromising to the Prince of Oppenheim, he
did not employ the power he possesses to put me out of the way, and
regain possession of these proofs of his guilt?'"
"'In truth,' the count replied, amazed at finding his meaning so
thoroughly divined; 'the Prince, my brother-in-law, is a man of
extreme prudence, and he had too great an interest in destroying these
overwhelming proofs.'"
"'Certainly; and he would not have failed, I feel convinced, to employ
the most expeditious means in succeeding; but the Prince was ignorant
that these proofs remained in my possession. This is how, whenever he
appointed a meeting with me by letter, so soon as I arrived in his
presence, I burned a letter exactly like the one I had received from
him, in order to prove to him with what good faith I acted, and what
confidence I had in him, so that he never supposed I had kept them. In
the next place, immediately after your sister's confinement, supposing
rightly that the Prince, having succeeded in his object, would desire
to get rid of me, I prevented him by leaving the country suddenly. I
remained in foreign parts for three years. At the expiration of that
period, I spread a report of my death. I managed so that the news
should reach the Prince most naturally, and as a certain thing; then I
returned here. The Prince never knew my name--we gentlemen adventurers
have a custom not only of changing our alias frequently, for an
incognito is a safeguard for us--but also of always wearing three
or four at once, in order to establish a confusion about ourselves,
through which we find ourselves in perfect safety; so that, in spite of
his attempts, even if the Prince had made any, of which I am ignorant,
he has not succeeded in learning my existence, much less in discovering
me.'"
"'But for what object did you keep these letters?'"
"'The very simple one of employing them against him; so as to compel
him by the fear of a revelation to supply me with the sums I might
require, when I felt inclined to give up my perilous career. As I was
suddenly surprised, I could not make the desired use of them, but now I
do not regret it.'"
"'I thank you,' the count replied, warmly; 'but cannot I do anything
for you in your present extremity, as a recognition of so great a
service?'"
"Red Arm looked cautiously around; in order to give the count full
liberty to converse with the condemned man, the chaplain and the two
officers had retired into the most distant corner of the cell, where
they seemed to be talking with great animation."
"'Alas, my lord!' he said, lowering his voice; 'It is too late now. I
should have liked--'"
"'Speak, and possibly I may be able to satisfy this last desire.'"
"'Well, be it so. It is not death that terrifies me, but, mounting an
ignoble scaffold, to be exposed alive to the laughter and insults of
people whom I have so long seen tremble before me: this it is that
troubles my last moments, and renders me unhappy. I should like to foil
the expectations of the ferocious crowd, who are rejoicing in the hope
of my punishment; and that, when the moment arrives, only my corpse
should be found. You see clearly that you can do nothing for me, my
lord.'"
"'You are mistaken,' he answered, quickly. 'I can, on the contrary,
do everything. Not only will I spare you the punishment, but your two
comrades, if they like, can escape it by a voluntary death.'"
"A flash of joy glittered in the convict's savage eye."
"'Are you speaking the truth?' he asked."
"'Silence!' said the count; 'What interest could I have in deceiving
you, when, on the contrary, my most eager desire is to prove my
gratitude to you?'"
"'That is true; but in what way?'"
"'Listen to me. This ring I am wearing contains a poison of great
subtlety. You have only to open the locket and inhale the contents to
fall dead. This poison kills without suffering, and with the rapidity
of lightning. One of my ancestors brought this ring from New Spain,
where he was Viceroy. You are acquainted with the profound skill of the
Indians in making poisons. Here is the ring; I offer it to you. Do you
accept it?'"
"'Certainly!' he exclaimed, as he seized it, and quickly concealed it
in his bosom. 'Thanks, my lord; you now owe me nothing, we are quits.
You do more for me by the gift of this ring than I have done for you.
Thanks to you, I and my poor comrades will be able to escape the
ignominious fate that awaits us.'"
"They then went up to the other persons, who, on seeing the
conversation ended, at once broke off their own."
"'Gentlemen,' said Red Arm, 'I thank you sincerely for having deigned
to be present at the revelation which my conscience ordered me to make.
Now I feel more tranquil. Only a few short moments separate me from
death. Would it be asking too much to let me pass these few moments
with my two comrades, who, condemned like myself, must also die today?'"
"'It is a last consolation,' said the chaplain."
"The governor of the prison reflected for a moment."
"'I see no inconvenience in granting you this request,' he at length
said. 'I will give the necessary orders that your companions be brought
here, and you will remain together till the moment of the execution.'"
"'Thanks, sir!' Red Arm gratefully exclaimed. 'This favour--the only
one you could grant me, is of great value to me. Bless you for so much
kindness!'"
"By the governor's order, the sentinel summoned the gaoler, who ran up
and opened the dungeon."
"'Farewell, gentlemen,' said the convict; 'God be with you!'"
"They went out. The count, after taking leave of the chaplain and
the other two persons, left the prison, crossed the square, filled
with an immense crowd, and hurried home. At this moment six o'clock
struck. It was the hour appointed for the execution. Suddenly, as if
by enchantment, a silence of death prevailed in this crowd, an instant
before so noisy and agitated. Their vengeance was at length about to be
satisfied."