"I, as you see, am dying."

He took my hand and tears came to his eyes.

"Poor girl!" he said to me; "it is not my fault. I did all that I could

to keep you from falling over the precipice, but you insisted."

"Do not speak of that," I said; "it is impossible for me to discuss it

with you. Tell me if my mother tried to find me after my flight?"

"Your mother sought you, but not earnestly enough. Poor woman! she was

thunderstruck and lost her presence of mind. There is no vigor in the

blood that you inherit."

"That is true," said I indifferently. "We were all indolent and placid

in my family. Did my mother hope that I would return?"

"She hoped so, foolishly and childishly. She still expects you and will

expect you till her last breath."

I began to sob. Henryet let me weep without saying a word. I believe

that he was weeping too. I wiped my eyes to ask him if my mother had

been distressed by my dishonor, if she blushed for me, if she still

dared to mention my name.

"She has it always on her lips," he replied. "She tells her grief to

everybody; people are a little tired of the story now, and they smile

when your mother begins to sob; or else they avoid her, saying: 'Here

comes Madame Ruyter to tell us about her daughter's abduction again!'"

I listened to this without anger and said, raising my eyes to his:

"And do you despise me, Henryet?"

"I no longer love you or esteem you," he replied; "but I pity you and I

am at your service. My purse is at your disposal. Do you wish to write

to your mother? Would you like me to take you back to her? Speak, and do

not fear to abuse me. I am not acting from affection but from a sense of

duty. You have no idea, Juliette, how much sweeter life becomes to those

who lay down rules for themselves and observe them."

I made no reply.

"Do you mean, then, to remain here alone and deserted? How long ago did

_your husband_ leave you?"

"He has not left me," I replied; "we live together; he objects to my

going away, which I have long been planning to do, but which I no longer

have the strength to think about."

I relapsed into silence; he gave me his arm as far as our hotel. I did

not know when we arrived there. I fancied that I was leaning on Leoni's

arm and I strove to conceal my sufferings and say nothing of them.

"Shall I come again to-morrow to learn your intentions?" said Henryet,

as he left me at the door.

"Yes," I replied, not thinking that he might meet Leoni.

"At what time?"

"Whenever you choose," I answered with a dazed air.

He came the next day a few moments after Leoni had gone out. I had

forgotten that I had given him permission to come, and I exhibited so

much surprise that he was obliged to remind me. Thereupon, there came to

my mind certain words I had overheard between Leoni and his companions,

the meaning of which had hitherto been quite vague in my mind, but which

seemed applicable to Henryet and to imply a threat of assassination. I

shuddered as I reflected upon the danger to which I exposed him.

"Let us go out," I said in dismay; "you are not safe here."

He smiled, and his face expressed utter contempt for the danger I

dreaded.

"Believe me," he said, as I seemed inclined to insist, "the man of whom

you speak would not dare raise his hand against me, as he dares not even

raise his eyes to mine."

I could not hear Leoni spoken of in that way. Despite all the wrongs he

had done me, despite all his faults, he was still dearer to me than all

the world. I requested Henryet not to refer to him in such terms before

me.

"Overwhelm me with contempt," I said; "reproach me for being a heartless

girl, utterly without pride; for having abandoned the best parents that

ever lived; and for trampling on all the laws that are imposed upon my

sex; I will take no offence, I will listen to you, weeping, and I will

be none the less grateful to you for the offers of service you made me

yesterday. But let me respect Leoni's name, it is the only treasure

which, in the privacy of my heart, I can still oppose to the malediction

of the world."

"Respect Leoni's name!" cried Henryet with a bitter laugh. "Poor woman!

However, I will consent if you choose to start for Brussels! Go home and

comfort your mother, return to the path of duty, and I promise to leave

in peace the villain who has ruined you, and whom I could crush like a

wisp of straw."

"Return to my mother!" I replied. "Oh! yes, my heart bids me do it every

moment in the day; but my pride forbids me to return to Brussels. How

should I be treated by all the women who were jealous of my splendor,

and who rejoice now at my degradation?"

"I am afraid, Juliette," said he, "that is not your strongest reason.

Your mother has a country house where you can live with her far away

from the hardhearted world. With your fortune you can live anywhere you

please where your disgrace is not known, and where your beauty and your

sweet nature would soon bring you new friends. But confess that you do

not wish to leave Leoni."

"I do wish to," I replied, weeping, "but I cannot."

"Unfortunate, most unfortunate of women!" said Henryet sadly; "you are

naturally good and beautiful, but you lack pride. Where noble pride is

lacking, there is nothing to build upon. Poor weak creature! I pity you

from the bottom of my soul, for you have profaned your heart, you have

soiled it by contact with a vile heart, you have bent your neck under a

hand stained with crime, you love a dastard! I ask myself how I could

ever have loved you, but I also ask myself how I could fail to pity you

now."

"Why, what in the name of heaven has Leoni done," I demanded, terrified

and appalled by his manner and his language, "that you assume the right

to speak of him in this way?"

"Do you doubt my right, madame? Do you wish me to tell you why Leoni,

who is personally brave,--that is beyond question,--and who is the best

swordsman that I know, has never thought fit to pick a quarrel with me,

who never touched a sword in my life, and who drove him out of Paris

with a word, out of Brussels with a glance?"

"That is inconceivable," I said, in dire distress.

"Is it possible that you don't know whose mistress you are?" continued

Henryet earnestly; "has no one ever told you the marvellous adventures

of Chevalier Leoni? have you never blushed for having been his

accomplice and for having fled with a swindler after robbing your

father's shop?"

I uttered a cry of anguish and hid my face in my hands; then I raised my

head and exclaimed with all my strength:

"That is false! I never was guilty of such a despicable act! Leoni is no

more capable of it than I am. We had not travelled forty leagues on the

way to Geneva when Leoni stopped in the middle of the night, asked for

a box, and put all the jewels in it to send them back to my father."

"Are you quite sure that he did that?" inquired Henryet with a

contemptuous laugh.

"I am sure of it!" I cried; "I saw the box, I saw Leoni put the diamonds

into it."

"And you are sure that the box didn't accompany you all the rest of your

journey? you are sure that it wasn't unpacked at Venice?"

These words cast such a dazzling gleam of light into my mind, that I

could not avoid seeing what it disclosed. I suddenly remembered what I

had previously tried in vain to remember: the first occasion on which my

eyes had made the acquaintance of that fatal box. At that moment the

three times that I had seen it were perfectly clear in my mind and

linked themselves together logically to force me to an irresistible

conclusion: the first, the night we passed in the mysterious château,

when I saw Leoni put the diamonds in the box; the second, the last night

at the Swiss chalet, when I saw Leoni mysteriously disinter the treasure

he had entrusted to the earth; the third, the second day of our stay in

Venice, when I had found the empty box and the diamond pin on the floor

with the packing material. The visit of Thaddeus the Jew, and the five

hundred thousand francs which, according to the conversation I had

overheard between Leoni and his friends, had been advanced by him at the

time of our arrival in Venice, coincided perfectly with the memories of

that morning. I wrung my hands, then raised them toward heaven and

cried, speaking to myself:

"So everything is lost, even my mother's esteem; everything is poisoned,

even the memory of Switzerland! Those six months of love and happiness

were devoted to covering up a theft."

"And to eluding the pursuit of the police," added Henryet.

"No! no!" I cried wildly, looking at him as if to question him; "he

loved me! it is certain that he loved me! I cannot think of that time

without being absolutely certain of his love. He was a thief who had

stolen a maid and a jewel-chest, and who loved them both."

Henryet shrugged his shoulders; I realized that I was wandering; and,

struggling to recover my reason, I insisted upon knowing the explanation

of the incredible power he possessed over Leoni.

"You want to know that?" he said. He reflected a moment, then continued:

"I will tell you, I can safely tell you; indeed, it is impossible that

you can have lived with him a year without suspecting it. He must have

made dupes enough at Venice under your eyes."

"Made dupes! he! how so? Oh! be careful what you say, Henryet! he is

burdened with accusations enough already."

"I believe that you are incapable as yet of being his accomplice,

Juliette; but beware that you do not become so; be careful for your

family's sake. I do not know to what point the impunity of a swindler's

mistress extends."

"You are killing me with shame, monsieur; your words are cruel; pray

complete your work and break my heart altogether by telling me what

gives you the right of life and death, so to speak, over Leoni? Where

have you known him? what do you know of his past life? I know nothing of

it myself, alas! I have seen so many contradictory things about him that

I no longer know whether he is rich or poor, noble or plebeian; I do not

even know if the name he bears belongs to him."

"That is the only thing that chance saved him the trouble of stealing,"

Henryet replied. "His name is really Leone Leoni, and he belongs to one

of the noblest families of Venice. His father had a small fortune and

occupied the palace in which you recently lived. He had an unbounded

fondness for this only son, whose precocious talents indicated a

superior mental organization. Leoni was educated with care, and, when he

was fifteen years old, travelled over half of Europe with his tutor. In

five years he learned with incredible ease the language, literature and

manners of the countries he visited. His father's death brought him back

to Venice with his tutor. This tutor was Abbé Zanini, whom you must

have seen frequently at your house last winter. I do not know whether

you formed an accurate judgment of him; he is a man of vivid

imagination, of exquisite mental keenness, of immense learning, but

inconceivably immoral and extremely cowardly beneath a hypocritical

exterior of tolerance and sound common-sense. He had naturally depraved

his pupil's conscience, and had replaced a proper understanding of

justice and injustice in his mind by an alleged knowledge of life, which

consisted in committing all the amusing escapades, all the profitable

sins, all the actions, good and evil, which can possibly tempt the human

heart. I knew this Zanini at Paris, and I remember hearing him say that

one must know how to do evil in order to know how to do good, and that

one must be able to find enjoyment in vice in order to be able to find

enjoyment in virtue. This man, who is more prudent, more adroit and more

cold-blooded than Leoni, is much superior to him in knowledge; and

Leoni, carried away by his passions or baulked by his caprices, follows

him at a distance, making innumerable false moves which are certain to

ruin him in society, and which indeed have already ruined him, since he

is at the mercy of a few grasping confederates and a few honest men,

whose generosity he will soon tire out."

A deathlike chill froze my blood while Henryet was speaking thus. I had

to make an effort to listen to the rest.

XVI

"At the age of twenty," continued Henryet, "Leoni found himself in

possession of a reasonably handsome fortune, and entirely in control of

his own movements. He was in a most advantageous position to do good;

but he found his means inferior to the requirements of his ambition, and

pending the time when he should build up a fortune equal to his desires,

as a result of I know not what insane or culpable schemes, he squandered

his inheritance in two years. His house, which he decorated with the

splendor you have seen, was the rendezvous of all the dissipated youths

and abandoned women of Italy. Many foreigners, connoisseurs in the

matter of fast living, were received there; and thus Leoni, who had

already made the acquaintance, during his travels, of many people of

fashion, formed the most brilliant connections in all countries and made

sure of many invaluable friends.

"As is everywhere the case, schemers and blacklegs succeeded in

insinuating themselves into this large circle. I saw in Leoni's company

in Paris several faces that aroused my distrust, and whose owners I

suspect to-day of forming with him and the Marquis de ---- an

association of fashionable sharpers. Yielding to their counsels, to

Zanini's lessons, or to his natural inclinations, young Leoni seems to

have soon tried his hand at cheating at cards. This much is certain,

that he became eminently proficient in that art and probably practised

it in all the capitals of Europe without arousing the slightest

suspicion. When he was absolutely ruined, he left Venice and began to

travel again as an adventurer. At this point the thread of his history

escapes me. Zanini, from whom I gleaned a part of what I have told you,

claimed to have lost sight of him from that time and to have learned

only by means of correspondence, frequently interrupted, of Leoni's

innumerable changes of fortune and innumerable intrigues in society. He

apologized for having produced such a pupil by saying that Leoni had

perverted his doctrines; but he excused the pupil by praising the

incredible cleverness, the strength of will and the presence of mind

with which he had challenged fate, endured and conquered adversity. At

last Leoni came to Paris with his faithful friend the Marquis de ----,

whom you know, and it was there that I had an opportunity to see and

judge him.

"It was Zanini who introduced him to the Princesse de X----, of whose

children he was the tutor. The abbé's superior mental endowments had

given him for several years past a less subordinate position in the

princess's household than that usually occupied by tutors in great

families. He did the honors of the salon, led the conversation, sang

beautifully, and managed the concerts.

"Leoni, thanks to his wit and his talents, was welcomed with much

warmth, and his company was soon sought with enthusiasm. He acquired in

certain circles in Paris the same authority which you have seen him

exercise over a whole provincial city. He bore himself magnificently,

rarely gambled, and when he did so, always lost immense sums, which the

Marquis de ---- generally won. This marquis was introduced by Zanini

shortly after Leoni's appearance. Although a compatriot of the latter,

he pretended not to know him or rather to be prepossessed against him.

He whispered in everybody's ear that they had been rivals in love at

Venice, and that, although they were both cured of their passion, they

were not cured of their hostility. Thanks to this knavery, no one

suspected them of conducting their industry in concert. They carried it

on during the whole winter without arousing the least suspicion.

Sometimes they both lost heavily, but more frequently they won, and they

lived like princes, each in his own way. One day, a friend of mine, who

had lost a large amount to Leoni, detected an almost imperceptible

signal between him and the marquis. He said nothing, but watched them

both closely for several days. One evening, when we had both bet on the

same side, and lost as usual, he came to me and said:

"'Look at those two Italians; I strongly suspect and am almost certain

that they cheat in concert. I have to leave Paris on very urgent

business; I leave to you the task of following up my discovery and

warning your friends, if there is occasion to do so. You are a discreet

and prudent man; you will not act, I hope, without being quite sure what

you are doing. In any event, if you have trouble with the fellows, do

not fail to give them my name as the one who first accused them, and

write to me; I will undertake to settle the dispute with one of them.'

"He gave me his address and left Paris. I watched the two knights of

industry and acquired absolute certainty that my friend had made no

mistake. I discovered the whole secret of their knavery one evening at a

party given by the Princesse de X----. I at once took Zanini by the arm

and led him aside.

"'Are you very well acquainted,' I asked him, 'with the two Venetians

whom you introduced here?'

"'Very well,' he answered with much assurance; 'I was the tutor of one

of them and the friend of the other.'

"'I congratulate you,' said I, 'they are a pair of blacklegs.'

"I made this assertion with such confidence that he changed countenance

despite his constant habit of dissimulation. I suspected him of having

an interest in their winnings, and I told him that I proposed to unmask

his two countrymen. He was altogether discomposed at that and earnestly

entreated me not to do it. He tried to persuade me that I was mistaken.

I asked him to take me to his room with the marquis. There I explained

myself in a few very plain words, and the marquis, instead of denying

the charge, turned pale and fainted. I do not know whether that scene

was a comedy played by him and the abbé, but they appeared to me in

such distress, the marquis displayed so much shame and remorse, that I

was good-natured enough to allow my determination to be shaken. I

demanded simply that he should leave France instantly with Leoni. The

marquis promised everything; but I proposed to signify my decision to

his accomplice in person, and told him to send for him. He kept us

waiting a long while; at last he arrived, not humble and trembling like

the other, but quivering with rage, and with clenched fists. Perhaps he

expected to intimidate me by his insolence; I informed him that I was

ready to give him all the satisfaction he desired, but that I should

begin by accusing him publicly. At the same time I offered the marquis

satisfaction on the same conditions on my friend's behalf. Leoni's

impudence was disconcerted. His companions convinced him that he was

lost if he resisted. He yielded, not without much remonstrance and bad

temper, and they both left the house without returning to the salon. The

marquis started the next day for Geneva, Leoni for Brussels.

"I was left alone with Zanini in his room; I told him of my suspicions

of him and of my purpose to denounce him to the princess. As I had no

absolute proofs against him, he was less humble and suppliant than the

marquis; but I saw that he was no less frightened. He exerted all the

resources of his intelligence in appealing to my good nature and my

discretion. I made him confess, however, that he was aware of his

pupil's knavery to a certain point, and I forced him to tell me his

story. In that respect, Zanini lacked prudence; he should have

maintained obstinately that he knew nothing of it; but my stern threats

to unmask the guests he had introduced made him lose his head. I left

him, thoroughly convinced that he was a rascal, as cowardly, but more

circumspect than the other two. I kept the secret in my own interest. I

was afraid that the influence he had acquired over the Princesse de

X---- would be stronger than my honorable character, that he would be

clever enough to persuade her to regard me as an impostor or a fool, and

would make my conduct appear ridiculous. I was sick of the filthy

business. I thought no more about it and left Paris three months later.

You know who was the first person my eyes sought as I entered Delpech's

ball-room. I was still in love with you, and, having reached Brussels

only an hour earlier, I did not know that you were to be married. I

discovered you in the midst of the crowd; I walked toward you and saw

Leoni at your side. I thought that I was dreaming, that I was deceived

by a resemblance. I made inquiries and discovered beyond question that

your fiancé was the knight of industry who had stolen three or four

hundred louis from me. I did not hope to supplant him, indeed I think

that I did not wish to. To succeed such a man in your heart, perhaps to

wipe from your cheeks the marks of his kisses; that was a thought that

killed my love. But I swore that an innocent girl and an honorable

family should not be the dupes of a scoundrel. You know that our

explanation was neither long nor diffuse; but your fatal passion

defeated the effort that I made to save you."

Henryet paused. I hung my head, I was overwhelmed; it seemed to me that

I could never again look anybody in the face. Henryet continued:

"Leoni avoided trouble very skilfully by carrying off his fiancée from

before my eyes, that is to say, a million francs in diamonds which she

had upon her person. He concealed you and your jewels, I don't know

where. Amid all the tears shed over his daughter's fate, your father

shed a few for his beautiful gems so beautifully mounted. One day he

artlessly observed in my presence that the thing that grieved him most

in regard to the theft was that the diamonds would be sold for half

their value to some Jew, and that the beautiful settings, with all their

artistic workmanship, would be broken up and melted by the receiver, to

avoid compromising himself. 'It was hardly worth while to do such work!'

he said, weeping; 'it was hardly worth while to have a daughter and love

her so dearly!'

"It would seem that your father was right, for with the proceeds of his

robbery Leoni found means to cut a swath at Venice for only three

months. The palace of his fathers had been sold and was now to let. He

hired it and replaced his name, so they say, on the cornice of the inner

courtyard, not daring to place it over the main gateway. As he is

actually known to be a swindler by very few people, his house became

once more the rendezvous of many honorable men, who doubtless were

fleeced there by his confederates. But it may be that his fear of being

detected deterred him from joining them, for he was speedily ruined

anew. He contented himself, I presume, with winking at the brigandage

those villains committed in his house; he is at their mercy and would

not dare to get rid of those whom he detests most bitterly. Now he is,

as you know, the Princess Zagarolo's titular lover: that lady, who has

been very beautiful, is now, faded and doomed to die very soon of a

disease of the lungs. It is supposed that she will leave all her

property to Leoni, who pretends to be violently in love with her, and

whom she loves passionately. He is waiting for her to make her will.

Then you will be rich, Juliette. He has probably told you so; have

patience a little longer and you will take the princess's box at the

play, you will drive in her carriages, on which you will simply change

the bearings; you will embrace your lover in the magnificent bed in

which she will have died, you will even wear her gowns and diamonds."

It may be that the pitiless Henryet said more than this, but I heard no

more; I fell to the ground in terrible convulsions.

XVII

When I came to myself, I was alone with Leoni. I was lying on a sofa. He

was looking at me fondly and anxiously.

"Dear heart," he said, when he saw that I was recovering the use of my

faculties, "tell me what has happened! Why did I find you in such a

terrible condition? Where are you in pain? What new grief have you had?"

"None," I replied, and I spoke the truth, for at that moment I

remembered nothing.

"You are deceiving me, Juliette; some one has distressed you. The

servant who was with you when I came home told me that a man came to see

you this morning, that he remained with you a long while, and that when

he went out he told them to come and look after you. Who was this man,

Juliette?"

I had never lied in my life; it was impossible for me to reply. I did

not wish to mention Henryet's name. Leoni frowned.

"A mystery!" he said; "a mystery between us! I would never have believed

you capable of it. But you know no one here! Can it be that----? If it

were he, there is not blood enough in his veins to wash away his

insolence! Tell me the truth, Juliette, has Chalm been here to see you?

Has he persecuted you again with his vile proposals and his calumnies

against me?"

"Chalm!" I exclaimed. "Is he in Milan?" And I felt a thrill of terror

which must have been reflected on my face, for Leoni saw that I was

ignorant of the viscount's arrival.

"If it was not he," he said to himself, "who can this caller have been,

who was closeted three hours with my wife and left her in a swoon? The

marquis has been with me all day."

"O heaven!" I cried, "are all your detestable associates here? In

heaven's name, see that they do not find out where I live and that I do

not see them."

"But who is the man you do see, and to whom you do not deny admission to

your bedroom?" said Leoni, becoming more and more thoughtful and pale.

"Answer me, Juliette; I insist upon it. Do you hear?"

I realized how horrible my position was becoming. I clasped my hands,

trembling, and appealed to heaven in silence.

"You do not answer," said Leoni. "Poor woman! you have little presence

of mind. You have a lover, Juliette! You are not to be blamed for it, as

I have a mistress. I am a fool not to be able to bear it when you are

satisfied with a part of my heart and my bed. But it is certain that I

cannot be so generous."

He took his hat and put on his gloves with convulsive coldness, took out

his purse, placed it on the mantel, and, without another word to

me--without glancing at me--left the room. I heard him walk away with an

even step and descend the stairs slowly.

Surprise, dismay and fear had frozen my blood. I thought that I was

going mad; I put my handkerchief in my mouth to stifle my shrieks, and

then, succumbing to fatigue, fell back upon the bed in the stupor of

utter prostration.

In the middle of the night I heard sounds in the room. I opened my eyes

and saw, without understanding what I saw, Leoni pacing the floor in

intense agitation, and the marquis seated at a table, emptying a bottle

of brandy. I did not stir. I had no thought of trying to find out what

they were doing there; but little by little their words, falling upon my

ears, found their way to my understanding and assumed a meaning.

"I tell you that I saw him, and I am sure of it," said the marquis. "He

is here."

"The infernal hound!" replied Leoni, stamping on the floor. "Would to

God the earth would open and rid me of him."

"Well said!" rejoined the marquis. "That's my idea." "He comes to my

very room to torment that unfortunate woman!"

"Are you sure, Leoni, that she is not glad to have him come?"

"Hold your tongue, viper! and don't try to make me suspect that poor

creature. She has nothing left in the world but my esteem."

"And Monsieur Henryet's love," added the marquis. Leoni clenched his

fists. "We will rid her of that love!" he cried, "and cure the Fleming

of it."

"The devil! Leoni, don't do anything foolish!"

"And you, Lorenzo, don't you do anything vile!"

"You would call that vile, would you? We have very different ideas. You

escort La Zagarolo quietly to the grave, in order to inherit her worldly

goods, and you do not approve of my putting an enemy underground whose

existence paralyzes ours forever! It seems to you very innocent,

notwithstanding the prohibition of the physicians, to hasten by your

generous fondness the end of your dear consumptive's sufferings----"

"Go to the devil! If that madwoman wants to live fast and die soon, why

should I prevent her? She is attractive enough to command my obedience,

and I am not fond enough of her to resist her."

"What a ghastly thing!" I muttered in spite of myself, and fell back on

my pillow.

"Your wife spoke, I think," said the marquis.

"She is dreaming," Leoni replied; "she has the fever."

"Are you sure that she isn't listening?"

"In the first place she would need to have strength to listen. She is

very sick, too, poor Juliette! She doesn't complain; she suffers all by

herself! She has not twenty women to wait on her; she doesn't pay

courtiers to satisfy her sickly fancies; she is dying piously and

chastely, like an expiatory victim, between heaven and me."

Leoni sat down at the table and burst into tears.

"This is the effect of brandy," said the marquis, calmly, putting the

glass to his lips. "I warned you; it always takes hold of the nerves."

"Let me alone, brute beast!" shouted Leoni, giving the table a push

which nearly overturned it on the marquis; "let me weep in peace. You

don't know what love is!"

"Love!" said the marquis in a theatrical tone, mimicking Leoni;

"remorse! those are very sonorous and dramatic words. When do you send

Juliette to the hospital?"

"That is right," said Leoni, with a gloomy, despairing air, "talk to me

that way, I prefer it. That suits me, I am capable of anything. To the

hospital! yes. She was so lovely, so dazzlingly beautiful! I came, and

see what I have brought her to! Ah! I could tear out my hair!"

"Well," said the marquis after a pause, "have we had enough sentiment

for to-day? God! it has been a long attack. Now let us reason a little;

you don't seriously mean to fight with Henryet?"

"Most seriously," replied Leoni; "you talk seriously enough about

murdering him."

"That's a very different matter."

"It is precisely the same thing. He doesn't know how to use any weapon,

and I am very expert with all sorts."

"Except the stiletto," said the marquis, "or the pistol at point-blank

range; besides, you don't kill anybody but women."

"I will kill that man at all events," replied Leoni.

"And you think he will consent to fight with you?"

"He will; he is brave enough."

"But he isn't mad. He will begin by having us arrested as a couple of

thieves."

"He will begin by giving me satisfaction. I will force him to do it, I

will strike him in the theatre."

"He will return it by calling you forger, blackleg, card-sharper."

"He will have to prove it. He is not known here, whereas we are fairly

established here on a brilliant footing. I will call him a lunatic and

visionary; and when I have killed him, everybody will think I was

right."

"You are mad, my dear fellow," replied the marquis; "Henryet is

recommended to the richest merchants in Italy. His family is well known

and bears a high reputation in commercial circles. He himself doubtless

has friends in the city, or at all events acquaintances, with whom his

statements will carry weight. He will fight to-morrow night, let us say.

Very good! during the day he will have had time enough to tell twenty

people that he is going to fight with you because he caught you

cheating, and that you took it ill of him that he should try to prevent

you."

"Very well! he may say it and people may believe it if they choose, but

I will kill him."

"La Zagarolo will turn you out-of-doors and destroy her will. All the

nobles will close their doors to you, and the police will request you to

go to play the lover in some other country."

"Very well! I will go somewhere else. The rest of the world will belong

to me when I am well rid of that man."

"Yes, and from his blood will sprout a pretty little nursery of

accusers. Instead of Monsieur Henryet, you will have the whole city of

Milan at your heels."

"O heaven! what shall I do?" said Leoni, in sore perplexity.

"Make an appointment with him in your wife's name, and cool his blood

with a good hunting-knife. Give me that scrap of paper yonder and I'll

write to him."

Leoni, paying no heed, opened a window and fell into a reverie, while

the marquis wrote. When he had finished he called him.

"Listen to this, Leoni," he said, "and see whether I know how to write a

_billet-doux_:

"'My friend; I cannot receive you again in my room; Leoni knows all and

threatens me with the most horrible consequences; take me away or I am

lost. Take me to my mother or put me in a convent; do with me as you

please, but rescue me from my present horrible plight. Be in front of

the main door of the cathedral at one o'clock to-morrow morning, and we

will make arrangements for our departure. It will be easy for me to meet

you, as Leoni passes every night at La Zagarolo's. Do not be surprised

by this extraordinary and almost illegible handwriting: Leoni, in a fit

of anger, almost crushed my right hand.

"'JULIETTE RUYTER.'"

"It seems to me that letter is very judiciously expressed," said the

marquis, "and that it will seem plausible enough to the Fleming,

whatever the degree of intimacy between him and your wife. The words

which she fancied that she was saying to him at times in her delirium

make it certain that he offered to take her back to her own country. The

writing is horrible, and whether he is familiar with Juliette's or

not----"

"Let me see it," said Leoni, leaning over the table with an air of

interest.

His face wore a horrifying expression of doubt and longing to be

persuaded. I saw no more. My brain was exhausted, my thoughts became

confused. I relapsed into a sort of lethargy.

XVIII

When I came to myself the flickering lamplight fell upon the same

objects. I raised myself cautiously and saw the marquis just where he

was when I lost consciousness. It was still dark. There were still

bottles on the table, as well as a writing-desk and something which I

could not see very plainly, but which resembled a weapon. Leoni was

standing in the middle of the room. I tried to recall their previous

conversation. I hoped that the ghastly fragments of it which recurred to

my memory were merely the dreams of fever, and I had no idea at first

that twenty-four hours had elapsed between that conversation and the one

just beginning. The first words that I understood were these:

"He must have suspected something for he was armed to the teeth."

As he spoke, Leoni wiped his bleeding hand with his handkerchief.

"Bah! yours is nothing but a scratch," said the marquis; "I have a more

severe wound in the leg; and yet I must dance at the ball to-morrow, so

that no one may suspect anything. So stop fussing over your hand, wrap

it up and think of something else."

"It is impossible for me to think of anything but that blood. It seems

to me that I see a lake of it all about me."

"Your nerves are too delicate, Leoni; you are good for nothing."

"_Canaille_!" exclaimed Leoni in a tone of hatred and contempt, "but for

me you would be a dead man; you retreated like a coward, and you would

have been struck from behind. If I had not seen that you were lost, and

if your ruin would not have involved mine, I would never have touched

that man at such an hour and in such a place. But your infernal

obstinacy compelled me to be your accomplice. All that I needed was to

commit a murder, to be worthy of your society."

"Don't play the modest man," retorted the marquis; "when you saw that he

defended himself, you became a very tiger."

"Ah! yes, it rejoiced my heart to have him die defending himself; for

after all I killed him fairly."

"Very fairly; he had postponed the game till the next day, and as you

were in a hurry to be done with it, you killed him on the spot."

"Whose fault was it, traitor? Why did you throw yourself on him just as

we were separating after we had agreed to meet the next day? Why did you

run when you saw that he was armed, and thus compel me to defend you or

else be denounced by him to-morrow for having conspired with you to lure

him into a trap and murder him? Now I have made myself liable to the

scaffold, and yet I am not a murderer. I fought with equal weapons,

equal chance, equal courage."

"Yes, he defended himself like a man," said the marquis; "you both

performed prodigies of valor. It was a very fine spectacle to see, truly

Homeric, was that duel with knives. But I am bound to say that for a

Venetian you handle that weapon wretchedly."

"It is quite true that it isn't the weapon I am in the habit of using,

and by the way I am inclined to think it would be wise to conceal or

destroy this one."

"That would be the height of folly, my friend! You must keep it; your

servants and friends know that you always carry such a weapon; if you

should dispose of it, that would be an indication of guilt."

"True, but yours?"

"Mine is innocent of his blood; my first blows missed, and after that

yours left me no room."

"Ah! heaven! that is true too. You tried to murder him, and fatality

compelled me to do with my own hands the deed of which I had such a

horror."

"It pleases you to say that, my dear fellow; however, you went very

willingly to the rendezvous."

"I had an instinctive foreboding that my evil genius would force me to

do it. After all, it was my destiny and his. We are rid of him at last!

But why in the devil did you empty his pockets?"

"Precaution and presence of mind on my part. When they find him stripped

of his money and his wallet, they will look for the assassin among the

lowest classes, and will never suspect people in fashionable society. It

will be considered an act of brigandage and not a matter of private

revenge. Don't betray yourself by absurd emotion when you hear the

affair mentioned to-morrow, and we have nothing to fear. Just reach me

the candle so that I can burn these papers; as for honest coin, that

never betrayed anybody."

"Stop!" said Leoni, seizing a letter which the marquis was about to burn

with the rest. "I saw Juliette's family name."

"It is a letter to Madame Ruyter," said the marquis. "Let us see:"

"'MADAME,

"'If it is not too late, if you did not start at once on receiving the

letter I wrote yesterday summoning you to your daughter, do not start.

Wait at home for her or come to meet her as far as Strasbourg; I will

send for you when we reach there. I shall be there with Mademoiselle

Ruyter in a few days. She has decided to fly from her seducer's dishonor

and ill treatment. I have just received a note in which she announces

this determination. I am to see her to-night to agree upon the time of

our departure. I will leave all my business in order to make the most of

her present disposition, in which her lover's flatteries may not leave

her forever. The empire that he has over her is still immense. I fear

that her passion for that wretch is eternal, and that her regret for

having left him will make you both shed many tears hereafter. Be

indulgent and kind to her; that is your proper rôle as her mother, and

you can easily play it. For my part, I am rough-mannered, and my

indignation finds expression more readily than my compassion. I wish I

were more persuasive; but I cannot be more lovable, and it is my destiny

not to be loved.

"'PAUL HENRYET.'"

"This proves to you, O my friend!" said the marquis in a mocking tone,

as he held the letter in the flame of the candle, "that your wife is

faithful and that you are the most fortunate of husbands."

"Poor woman!" said Leoni, "and poor Henryet! He would have made her

happy! He would at least have respected and honored her! In God's name,

what fatality drove her into the arms of a wretched adventurer, drawn to

her by destiny from one end of the world to the other, when she had an

honorable man's heart at her very hand. Blind child! why did you choose

me?"

"Charming!" said the marquis ironically. "I hope you will write some

verses on this subject. A pretty epitaph for the man you massacred

to-night would be, to my mind, in exceedingly good taste and altogether

new."

"Yes, I will write one for him," retorted Leoni, "and it will run like

this:

"'Here lies an honest man who tried to defend human justice against two

scoundrels, and whom divine justice allowed them to murder.'"

Thereupon, Leoni fell into a sorrowful reverie, during which he

constantly muttered his victim's name:

"Paul Henryet!" he said. "Twenty-two years old, twenty-four at most. A

cold but handsome face. A rigid, upright character. Hatred of injustice.

The uncompromising pride of honesty, and withal something tender and

melancholy. He loved Juliette, he has always loved her. He fought

against his passion to no purpose. I see by that letter that he loved

her still, and that he would have worshipped her if he could have cured

her. Juliette, Juliette! you might still have been happy with him, and I

have killed him! I have robbed you of the man who might have comforted

you; your only defender is no more, and you remain the victim of a

bandit."

"Very fine!" said the marquis; "I wish that you might never move your

lips without having a stenographer beside you to preserve all the noble

and affecting things you say. For my part, I am going to bed.

Good-night, my dear fellow; go to bed to your wife, but change your

shirt first; for, deuce take me! you have Henryet's blood on your

frill!"

The marquis left the room. Leoni, after a moment's irresolution, came to

my bed, raised the curtain and looked at me. He saw that I was only

drowsing under my bedclothes, and that my eyes were open and fixed upon

him. He could not endure my livid face and fixed stare; he fell back

with a cry of horror, and I called him several times in a weak, broken

voice: "Murderer! murderer! murderer!"

He fell on his knees as if struck by lightning, and dragged himself to

my bed with an imploring air.

"Go to bed to your wife," I said, repeating the marquis's words in a

sort of delirium; "but change your shirt, for you have Henryet's blood

on your frill!"

Leoni fell face downward on the floor, uttering inarticulate cries. I

lost my reason altogether, and it seemed to me that I repeated his

cries, imitating with dazed servility the tone of his voice and the

contortions of his body. He thought that I was mad, and, springing to

his feet in terror, came to my side. I thought that he was going to kill

me; I threw myself out of bed, crying: "Mercy! mercy! I won't tell!" and

I fainted just as he seized me, to lift me up and assist me.

XIX

I awoke, still in his arms, and he had never put forth so much

eloquence, so much affection, so many tears, to implore his pardon. He

confessed that he was the lowest of men; but, he said, there was one

thing, and only one, that raised him somewhat in his eyes, and that was

the love he had always had for me, and which none of his vices, none of

his crimes had had the power to stifle. Hitherto he had fought against

the appearances which accused him on all sides. He had struggled against

overwhelming evidence in order to retain my esteem. Thenceforth, being

no longer able to justify himself by falsehood, he took a different

course and assumed a new rôle, in order to move me and conquer me. He

laid aside all artifice--perhaps I should say all sense of shame--and

confessed all the villainy of his life. But amid all that filth he

forced me to distinguish and to understand what there was in his

character that was truly noble, the faculty of loving, the everlasting

vigor of a heart in which the most exhausting weariness, the most

dangerous trials, did not extinguish the sacred flame.

"My conduct is base," he said to me, "but my heart is still noble. It

still bleeds for its crimes; it has retained, in all the vigor of its

first youth, the sentiment of justice and injustice, horror of the evil

it does, enthusiastic admiration of the good it beholds. Your patience,

your virtues, your angelic kindliness, your pity, as inexhaustible as

God's, can never be displayed in favor of a being who appreciates them

better or admires them more. A man of regular morals and sensitive

conscience would consider them more natural and would appreciate them

less. With such a man you would be simply a virtuous woman; while with a

man like me you are a sublime woman, and the debt of gratitude which is

piling up in my heart is as great as your sacrifices and your

sufferings. Ah! it is something to be loved and to be entitled to a

boundless passion, and from what other man have you so good a right to

claim such a passion as from me? For whom would you subject yourself

again to the tortures and the despair you have undergone? Do you think

there is anything else in life but love? For my part, I do not. And do

you think that it is a simple matter to inspire it and to feel it?

Thousands of men die incomplete, having never known any other love than

that of the beasts. Often a heart capable of loving seeks in vain where

to bestow its love, and comes forth pure of all earthly passions,

perhaps to find a place in heaven. Ah! when God vouchsafes to us on

earth that profound, passionate, ineffable sentiment, we must no longer

desire or hope for paradise, Juliette; for paradise is the blending of

two hearts in a kiss of love. And when we have found it here on earth,

what matters it whether it be in the arms of a saint or of one of the

damned? What matters it whether the man you love be accursed or adored

among men, so long as he returns your love? Is it I whom you love, or is

it this noise that is going on about me? What did you love in me at the

outset? Was it the splendor that encompassed me? If you hate me to-day,

I must needs doubt your past love; I must needs see in you, instead of

that angel, that devoted victim whose blood, shed for me, falls

ceaselessly drop by drop upon my lips, only a poor, weak, credulous

girl, who loved me from vanity and deserted me from selfishness.

Juliette, Juliette, think of what you will do if you leave me! You will

ruin the only friend who knows you, appreciates and respects you, for a

society which despises you now and whose esteem you will never recover.

You have nothing left but me in the whole world, my poor child. You must

either cling to the adventurer's fortunes or die forgotten in a convent.

If you leave me, you are no less insane than cruel; you will have had

all your misery, all your sufferings, and you will not reap their fruit;

for now, if, notwithstanding all that you know, you can still love me

and stay with me, be sure that I will love you with a love of which you

have no conception, and which I never should have dreamed of as possible

if I had married you honestly and lived with you peacefully in the bosom

of your family. Hitherto, despite all you have sacrificed, all you have

suffered, I have not loved you as I feel that I am capable of loving.

You have never yet loved me as I am; you have cherished an attachment

for a false Leoni, in whom you still saw some grandeur and some

fascination. You hoped that he would become some day the man you loved

in the beginning; you did not believe that you had held in your arms a

man who was irrevocably lost. And I said to myself: 'She loves me

conditionally; it is not I whom she loves as yet, but the character I am

acting. When she sees my features under my mask, she will cover her eyes

and fly; she will look with horror on the lover whom now she presses to

her bosom. No, she is not the wife and mistress I had dreamed of, and

for whom my ardent heart is calling with all its strength. Juliette is

still a part of that society whose foe I am; she will be my foe when she

knows me. I cannot confide in her; I cannot pour out upon the bosom of

any living being the most execrable of my sufferings, my shame for what

I am doing every day. I suffer, I am heaping up remorse in my soul. If

only there were a woman capable of loving me without asking me to

change--if I could have a friend who would not be an accuser and a

judge!'--That is what I thought, Juliette. I prayed to heaven for that

friend, but I prayed that it might be you and no other; for you were

already what I loved best on earth before. I realized all that there

still remained for us both to do before loving each other really."

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."

"O _mon 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,

although _en 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.

XX

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.

XXI

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.

XXII

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't_ you help me to obtain a better

coat? _Won't_ you 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.

XXIII

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.

[Illustration: _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 magnificent

_Nuptials_, 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."

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."

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."

XXIV

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 ----."