"What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath ministered?"----
SHAKESPEARE.
Vivaldi, when his first feelings of pity and compunction for having
insulted an aged man, the member of a sacred profession, were past, and
when he looked with a more deliberate eye upon some circumstances of
the confessor's conduct, perceived that suspicion was again gathering
on his mind. But, regarding this as a symptom of his own weakness,
rather than as a hint of truth, he endeavoured, with a magnanimous
disdain, to reject every surmise that boded unfavourably of Schedoni.
When evening arrived, he hastened towards the villa Altieri, and,
having met without the city, according to appointment, a physician,
upon whose honor and judgment he thought he might rely, they
proceeded on their way together. Vivaldi had forgotten, during the
confusion of his last interview with Ellena, to deliver up the key
of the garden-gate, and he now entered it as usual, though he could
not entirely overcome the reluctance, which he felt on thus visiting,
in secret and at night, the dwelling of Ellena. Under no other
circumstances, however, could the physician, whose opinion was so
necessary to his peace, be introduced without betraying a suspicion,
which must render her unhappy, probably for ever.
Beatrice, who had watched for them in the portico, led the way to the
chamber where the corpse was laid out; and Vivaldi, though considerably
affected when he entered, soon recovered composure enough to take his
station on one side of the bed, while the physician placed himself
on the other. Unwilling to expose his emotion to the observation of
a servant, and desirous also of some private conversation with the
physician, he took the lamp from Beatrice and dismissed her. As the
light glared upon the livid face of the corpse, Vivaldi gazed with
melancholy surprize, and an effort of reason was necessary to convince
him, that this was the same countenance which only one evening
preceding was animated like his own; which had looked upon him in
tears, while, with anxiety the most tender, she had committed the
happiness of her niece to his care, and had, alas! too justly predicted
her approaching dissolution. The circumstances of that scene now
appeared to him like a vision, and touched every fibre of his heart.
He was fully sensible of the importance of the trust committed to him,
and, as he now hung over the pale and deserted form of Bianchi, he
silently renewed his solemn vows to Ellena, to deserve the confidence
of her departed guardian.
Before Vivaldi had courage enough to ask the opinion of the physician,
who was still viewing the face of the deceased with very earnest
attention and disapproving countenance, his own suspicions strengthened
from some circumstances of her appearance; and particularly from the
black tint that prevailed over her complexion, it seemed to him,
that her death had been by poison. He feared to break a silence,
which prolonged his hope of the contrary, feeble though it was; and
the physician, who probably was apprehensive for the consequence of
delivering his real thought, did not speak.
"I read your opinion," said Vivaldi, at length, "it coincides with my
own."
"I know not as to that, Signor," replied the physician, "though I think
I perceive what is yours. Appearances are unfavourable, yet I will not
take upon me to decide from them, that it is as you suspect. There are
other circumstances, under which similar appearances might occur."
He gave his reasons for this assertion, which were plausible even to
Vivaldi, and concluded with requesting to speak with Beatrice, "for
I wish to understand," said he, "what was the exact situation of this
lady for some hours previous to her decease."
After a conversation of some length with Beatrice, whatever might be
the opinion resulting from his enquiries, he adhered nearly to his
formal assertions; pronouncing that so many contradictory circumstances
appeared, as rendered it impossible for him to decide, whether
Bianchi had died by poison, or otherwise. He stated more fully than
he had done before, the reasons, which must render the opinion of
any medical person, on this subject, doubtful. But, whether it was
that he feared to be responsible for a decision, which would accuse
some person of murder, or that he really was inclined to believe that
Bianchi died naturally, it is certain he seemed disposed to adopt the
latter opinion; and that he was very anxious to quiet the suspicions
of Vivaldi. He so far succeeded, indeed, as to convince him that it
would be unavailing to pursue the enquiry, and almost compelled him to
believe, that she had departed according to the common course of nature.
Vivaldi, having lingered awhile over the death-bed of Bianchi, and
taken a last farewel of her silent form, quitted the chamber and the
house as softly as he had approached, and unobserved, as he believed,
by Ellena or any other person. The morning dawned over the sea, when he
returned into the garden, and a few fishermen, loitering on the beach,
or putting off their little boats from the shore, were the only persons
visible at this early hour. The time, however, was passed for renewing
the enquiry he had purposed at Paluzzi, and the brightening dawn warned
him to retire. To Naples, therefore, he returned, with spirits somewhat
soothed by a hope, that Bianchi had not fallen prematurely, and by
the certainty that Ellena was well. On the way thither, he passed the
fort without interruption, and, having parted with the physician, was
admitted into his father's mansion by a confidential servant.