THE ELOPEMENT.
Not vanquished, but cozened and beguiled.
-King Lear.
THE duel described in the last chapter, it will be remembered, was
not sought by Carlton. Indeed, he would gladly have avoided it, if
possible-first and foremost, because it was diametrically contrary
to his principles and sense of moral rectitude; and secondly,
because his opponent was indirectly kin to her whom he loved above
all in life. Thus much we say to place our hero rightly before the
reader, who should not look upon him inconsistently.
The critical reader may perhaps question the propriety of Carlton's
wounding Petro at all, inasmuch as he is represented to be able to
have defended himself with comparative ease from the heated and
headstrong Italian's sword. In answer to this, we would say, that
besides there being always the possibility of his being wounded by
the enemy's sword, the very fact of his returning to the fight when
severely wounded, showed that Carlton had rightly judged of his
character, its vindictive impulses, when he deemed both wounds
necessary. He gave the second one unwillingly; and not one moment
before he thought it absolutely necessary to do so; all those on the
ground could have borne testimony that there was scarcely an instant
of time that Carlton had not Petro's life at his command, if he had
chosen to take it.
"Why, Carlton," said a merry-faced Englishman, who had been his
companion during the interview, and who was now walking with him
down the mountain's side, "I could hardly believe my eyes to see
thee such a master of thy weapon. How hast thou possibly attained to
such extraordinary proficiency with the sword?"
"You remember the little Frenchman, who lived so long with me?"
asked Carlton. "He who had his snuff-box ever in his hand?"
"That I do," said his companion; "and a merry, studious, jocund,
lazy, cowardly and brave little fellow he was. In short, I believe
there was no quality, however contradictory-good, bad, or
indifferent-that he did not possess."
"He was a bundle of inconsistencies," added Carlton, smiling at his
friend's description.
The truth was, he had accurately described a certain class of that
versatile nation, the French, which are often met with in every
country, wanderers or exiles from home. While we write, we have one
in our own mind, well known to our good citizens who is familiarly
designated by the sobriquet of "the Emperor."
"Well, Carlton, what of our little knight of the snuff-box, eh?"
"You remember that I was poor in those days, and the clever little
Frenchman offered to teach me the sword exercise, if I could teach
him to speak English. It was a bargain, and so did he, and so did I,
until I flatter myself both became proficients in their distinctive
branches of learning. Carnot taught the exercise in the Grand Army;
so he graduated in a good school, and was indeed an excellent master
of the weapon. It has been my only recreation and exercise for
nearly a year; and I confess I feel quite at home with a good blade
in my hand."
"You use it with wondrous skill."
"Do you think so?"
"Certainly; even his second complimented you, and said blade was
never more skilfully handled."
"This Petro Giampetti is also a good swordsman," said Carlton, "and
with a little more coolness would carry a sure point. The pistol is
the weapon for your hot-headed fellow; he does not find a chance
while using it to work himself into a passion, as with the sword."
"Yes; but then with powder and ball, the veriest dunce in
Christendom may blow out a gentleman's brain, while it takes an
artiste to run one through the body handsomely. Give me the sword,
Carlton-I've a great horror, in such cases, of 'villanous
saltpetre.'"
"I have no taste in such matters; but knowing the boasted prowess of
Signor Petro with the sword, I preferred that weapon, though I think
you have seen me do some pretty things with the pistol, Brownlow? It
was a silly fancy I had when a boy to learn its use."
"An' I had carte and tierces at my fingers' ends as thou hast, I
would give a thousand pounds," said his companion.
"I'll tell thee how to gain it."
"By what means?"
"Shut thyself up as I have done for months together, with no
companion save the brush, and no money to purchase books for
perusal, and thou couldst learn it as readily as I have done; always
supposing you to have as expert a teacher as that little Frenchman,
Carnot, who in all else was anything but a companion-ay, a regular
bore. But in mastering my aversion for him, why, you see, Brownlow,
I became master of the weapon."
"Very true, but I have no Carnot to teach me; and to-day I see what
I lose by the want of one."
"I'll teach it to thee, myself, Brownlow, when both of us have
leisure," said Carlton.
"Do so, and I will repay thee at any cost."
And this, too, was one of those very artists, who but a few months
previous had scoffed and jeered at him in the open streets of
Florence.
How beautiful was the prospect that spread itself out to their view
as the mist cleared away from their path down the mountain. Below
them lay, in all its beauty, the city of Florence, the pride of
Tuscany, and the Val d'Arno, crowded with white palaces, whose walls
lay sparkling in the morning sun like the trembling waves of the
sea.
Carlton returned to his lodgings, which were now the best and most
capacious apartments of an ancient palace, the principal windows of
which opened fronting the tall eminence of Fiesole, crowned by the
gay old monastery where Milton passed many weeks while gathering
materials for "Paradise Lost."
Here Carlton had his studio, the daily resort of the beauty and
fashion of Florence, while his home was also the receptacle of all
that taste could suggest, or the most fastidious could desire,
contrasting strongly with his late want and suffering. Even the
Grand Duke honored his studio with an occasional visit, which
rendered the other artists of the city more jealous and envious than
ever.
About a month had passed since the duel upon the mountain-side, and
during that time Carlton was only able to communicate with Florinda
through means of epistolary correspondence. For some time he had
employed a servant of the house of Carrati as his messenger; but the
fellow being bribed by the agents of Petro, intercepted the letters,
and now Carlton was forced to become his own messenger or bearer of
the letters he himself wrote. He was now urgent in his
communications to the gentle Florinda that she should elope from her
home and become united to him; and their arrangements were nearly
completed, as the following letter, written at this time, will show:
"DEAR FLORINDA:-I am more and more convinced of the propriety of the
course I have urged upon you. You say that such a plan may
jeopardize your largo property. This is a mistake, I am fully
convinced; and even were it otherwise, what need we care for
wealth, if we are sure for a sufficiency for life, and of each
other's love? I am highly gratified, dearest, that you have at
length consented to this arrangement. I will, in the meantime, make
all necessary arrangements for our journey. I count the moments
until we shall meet again. Guard your health, dear Florinda, and
believe me, Devotedly yours, CARLTON."
Carlton then proceeded immediately to perfect his plan, and to make
all necessary arrangements for the proposed elopement, and in
another letter to Signora Florinda, he made all preliminary
arrangements with her also, so that there might be no
misunderstanding in the case.
It was night, and the pale moon, as if in a fickle mood, was smiling
and scowling by turns, as the fleecy clouds hurried swiftly past
her. The fitful and sudden glances of light appeared doubly bright
from the transient shadows made by the officious clouds. They,
deeming that the moon took too much credit to herself as queen' of
light for the hour, designed apparently to let her know that she
reigned only at their will and pleasure.
Now bursting through their veiling power, the moon would for a
moment cast long deep shadows down the narrow streets, and here and
there would light up for an instant some antique palace front with
dazzling richness, and as quickly die away again, as though it were
at play with the earth. It was difficult in this alternating of
light and darkness to use the eye so as to discern objects with
certainty; and an individual could with difficulty be recognized
between the changes, however near he might be to the observer. The
character of the night was wild and threatening-a night for evil
deeds.
The gates of the city of Florence were just closing, and the
gathering clouds had entirely obscured the light of the moon, as a
caleche-and-four, with an extra postilion, dashed off from the Borg'
ognisanti, on the mountain-road towards Bologna. The inmates of the
vehicle exchanged not a word. The female seemed to be affrighted at
the headlong speed with which the double team drew the light caleche
up the mountain's side, while a postilion sat so near, and the
attendant at the lady's side, together seemed an excuse for the
silence, even if they were that which any one would have pronounced
them, a runaway couple.
Anon the gentleman would offer some polite attention to his
companion, but without the exchange of a syllable; and, indeed,
words could hardly have been heard at the rate they were driving
through the dark, on account of the loud noise of the wheels and
horses' feet among the stones and uneven soil of the rising ground.
On rolled the vehicle with the speed of the wind--every one knows
how Florentine horses can go when they have a mind to-until at
length it pulled up at a highland roadside inn of most uninviting
character. The lady was immediately assisted in silence from the
vehicle, and scarcely had they entered the low, dark parlor of the
inn before the gentleman whispered to her:
"The priest is here, and will unite us immediately."
"But why this haste, dear Carlton?" said Florinda, for it was her.
"There is no time to lose," was the whispered response.
"But should not--"
"Hush, Florinda!"
"But Carlton--"
"He is here," was the whispered interruption.
And in a moment more a priest made his appearance, and, without
giving either time to unrobe themselves, had they been so inclined,
commenced the marriage service. The ring was given in that dark
room-so dark that the features even of the minister of the church
could not be discerned-the prayer was made, and the two were
solemnly declared to be husband and wife. The lady had essayed
several times to speak aloud, as we have seen, to express some
feeling or wish, and she seemed as if anticipating some
encouragement from him she was about to wed; but she was each time
hushed by the speed with which everything was done, or by a gentle
whisper from her companion. The ceremony completed, the signora drew
back to a chair, overcome by her swift ride, and the emotions that
crowded themselves upon her throbbing and trembling heart.
At this moment there entered the apartment the tall figure of a man
apparently advanced is years, who, turning his back upon Florinda,
conversed for a moment with the bridegroom, then both turning
towards Florinda at the moment a couple of lamps were introduced
into the room, when lo! she beheld before her Signor Latrezzi, her
uncle, and her husband, Petro Giampetti! With a scream of horror and
affright, she fell fainting upon the floor.
The uncle and nephew were both filled with horror, for both believed
that they had killed her, as they gazed upon her pale and lifeless
form. Either would lave sacrificed everything to have taken all back
again, and restored her to life and happiness. Can this be thee,
Petro Giampetti, trembling like a child-nay, a tear actually wetting
that swarthy check, as you chafe the pulse, and bathe the temples of
that insensible girl? And hast thou really so tender a heart, and
yet couldst enter into so hard-hearted a conspiracy? And thou,
Signor Latrezzi, well mayst thou hide thy face in thy hands, for
thou art the greatest sinner here; thine has been the hand that hath
done this; that hath triumphed over this poor girl, whom thou
shouldst have protected.
"Holy virgin," cried Petro, "she's dead!"
"Say not so," eagerly exclaimed her uncle.
"God forgive us!" answered Petro.
"Ay, we have need of forgiveness, if we have brought on such
extremity," said the uncle, trying to raise the lifeless head of
their inanimate victim.
Leaving the guilty, nephew and uncle for a while, we will take the
reader back for a moment in the thread of our story.