DEATH IN LIFE.
"It is such a long story, Hugo," said Beltrami, a trifle maliciously,
"that we must really have some wine."
"I do not want wine; I want 'The Thousand and Second Night.'"
"Bene! you shall have both."
The Marchese arose and summoned his servant, who brought up a bottle
of Barbera, that rough-tasting wine which is so pleasant and cool in
hot weather. For the sake of companionship I took some with Beltrami,
and haying thus attended to the duties of hospitality, he signed to
his servant to withdraw, and without further preamble began his tale.
"Eh, Hugo, mon ami," he said, settling himself comfortably in his
chair, "this would be a charming story for M. Bourget, that modern
Balzac, who analyses the hearts of the ladies of this generation in so
masterly a fashion. Dame! I would like to give him Madame Morone's to
dissect--he'd find some strange things there. Yet--would you believe
it?--this woman, worthy to be a sister of Lucrezia Borgia, came out of
a convent to marry my poor friend Morone."
"You knew him then?"
"Ma foi! I should think so, for many years. People said he was mad,
but the only mad action he committed, to my mind, was in marrying
Giulietta Rossana."
"Yet you propose to do the same thing?"
"True, but I possess a means of taming this tigress of which the
unfortunate Giorgio Morone knew nothing. He was a great chemist, this
poor Count, and particularly fond of toxicology, a dangerous science
with such a wife, as he found out to his cost. Cospetto! I would not
care myself about forging weapons for another to use against me, but
that is exactly what Morone did."
"She poisoned him?"
"Eh! nobody says so, yet everybody thinks so. For my part, I believe
the Contessa capable of anything. At all events, Morone died very
suddenly, and was duly buried in that old ancestral vault to which his
devoted wife, a year after his death, paid a visit. Well, before he
died, Morone grew suspicious of the Contessa, and as he had just
invented or rediscovered a poison which left no trace of having been
used, and also an antidote to the same, he determined not to give the
Signora an opportunity of exercising it on him, so this toxicological
secret was buried with him."
"Ah! I see now why she went to the graveyard. It was to get this
poison."
"Exactly! Whether it was put in the coffin of the dead man, or merely
hidden in the vault, I don't know, but we will go and see."
"To what end? She has the poison!"
"Certainly! I believe that, after seeing it exercised upon Pallanza;
but she has not got the antidote."
"How do you know that, Beltrami."
"Because the Contessa knows nothing of the existence of the antidote.
Morone talked enough about the poison itself, but he only mentioned
the antidote to one man, and that was myself. You see, Hugo, he
thought madame might try a little of his own poison on himself, in
which case I would be able to give him the antidote."
"Couldn't he have taken it himself?"
"No! this poison does not kill unless given in a large quantity; five
drops make you feel chill and listless; ten drops take away your
senses and converts you into what I may paradoxically call a
breathing corpse; but fifteen drops kill. So, if madame had given her
husband fifteen drops he would have lapsed into a stupor and died,
unless the antidote was given, so that is why he bestowed it on me."
"Well, but she killed him after all?"
"Yes, but with another poison not of home manufacture. Eh! what would
you, Hugo, the Contessa was not going to be thwarted by a husband who
kept his laboratory locked. However, he tricked her over this
particular poison, for he either gave instructions that it was to be
put into his coffin without the knowledge of his dear wife, or he hid
it himself in the vault, as he hinted to me one day he intended to
do."
"There's no doubt then that the Contessa went to the vault for the
poison; but what about the antidote? Is it in your possession?"
"Unfortunately, no, mon ami. I was ordered away from Verona, and
gave back the antidote to the Count; but on my return here, I heard
casually that he had left a letter for me, to be delivered after his
death. I went to Rome, where the Contessa was one of the ornaments of
the Court, and asked for the letter. Of course she denied ever having
heard of it."
"And what do you think was in this letter?"
"Eh! ma foi, I believe it told me where the poison was hidden in the
vault, and that our dear Contessa found the letter, went to the vault
on the night you saw her and obtained the poison."
"Also the antidote?"
"Dame! I'm not so sure of that. I knew about the antidote so well that
I don't think Morone would have mentioned it in the letter, in case it
should meet the eye of his wife. No! No! mon ami! she has the poison,
of course; but the antidote, I believe it is still in the vault, where
we will look for it."
"For what reason?"
"Diamine! to revive this devil of a tenor who has had the misfortune
to take ten drops of the Signora Morone's mixture."
"But where is Pallanza?"
"All in good time, Hugo, all in good time. I must tell you the rest of
the story first."
"I am all impatience, Beltrami."
The Marchese, I saw, was enjoying this conversation, as the
subject-matter was of an involved and difficult character which
appealed to the subtleties of his Italian nature; and the chance of
playing a part in this intrigue, worthy of the Court of Lorenzo di
Medici, delighted him beyond measure. He was, as I have said before,
an anachronism, and this everyday, commonplace life of the nineteenth
century offered no field for the exercise of his cunning brain and
delicate diplomacy, which revelled in those bizarre complications,
full of sophistry and double meanings, which distinguished the
intricate statecraft of the Italian republics.
"You wonder," continued the Marchese reflectively; "you wonder, no
doubt, after hearing my opinions about the Contessa Morone, that I
should care to marry her; but, as I told you before, there are
reasons. I am poor, she is rich, and I marry her for her money. This
is brutal is it not? but then you see I look at the matter from a
Latin point of view, you from an English. As Euclid---whom, by the
way, I always hated--says, 'Two parallel straight lines cannot meet,'
it is no use our arguing over this point, as neither of us would
convince the other. It is a question of race, Hugo, nothing more.
Ebbene! my other reason is that I wish to tame this woman with the
heart of a tigress. I am wearied of the dulness of this present life,
and the task of fencing with Signora Morone will be a perpetual
excitement, particularly as I know it will not be unattended with
danger. This is also a question of race, and the theory of straight
lines applies, so again we will not argue; but you can see one thing
plainly, that I want to marry the Contessa?"
"Yes, I can see that, and I wonder at your daring."
"Straight lines, for the third time, Signor Hugo. Ebbene! Although I
wanted to marry the Contessa, she hating and detesting me with her
whole soul, as a friend of her late husband, would not listen to me at
all, so as she would not go to the altar willingly, I determined to
force her there. I made it my business to find out all about her life,
and a devil of a life it is, I can tell you. Pallanza is not the first
lover this daughter of Venus has smiled on."
"Oh!" I broke out in disgust, "how can you think of marrying this
infamous woman--a murderess, a poisoner, a fiend in human form?"
"Dio! I have given you my reasons, and you, straitlaced Englishman
that you are, cannot understand them. However, we will talk of this
again; meantime to continue. The Contessa was so madly in love with
Pallanza, who I grant you is a handsome fellow with a charming voice,
that I foresaw when he attempted to leave her there would be trouble.
I discovered that he was engaged to some Signorina of Milan, that she
was at Verona, and that Pallanza was going to sing at Verona; so when
he did arrive I was in nowise astonished at the appearance of Madame
Morone at the Ezzelino. Things were coming to a climax, so I watched
for the bursting of the storm. The rendezvous of these lovers would
be, I knew, at the deserted Palazzo Morone. How did I know? Mon cher
ami, you are simplicity itself. Have I not told you that I knew the
Contessa when she lived at Verona with her husband, and--and--well it
is not the first time she has used that palazzo and played at
Boccaccian stories in that room. You know she fancies herself like
Lucrezia Borgia, and tries to imitate those picturesque feasts to
which Ferrara's Duchess was so addicted--yes, even to the use of
poison. Dame! I thought I was at the opera when I saw that supper the
other night."
"How did you get into the palazzo?"
"Ah, that is an adventure worthy of Gil Bias. I filed through a bar in
the gate and wrenched it out."
"I thought so, for I entered the same way!"
"I guessed as much, my friend. Ebbene! I watched the palace from the
time Madame Morone arrived in Verona, and my patience was rewarded on
Monday night by seeing our picturesque tenor use his key and enter by
the side door. I was not alone, for I greatly mistrusted Madame Morone
should she discover me in that lonely palazzo; so, as I had two men
absolutely devoted to me, I took them with me."
"They were very brave to go near that ghastly palace, considering the
reputation it has."
"Ma foi, they are Florentines, and know nothing about Verona. Their
ancestors have been in the service of mine for many years, and in
their eyes a Beltrami can do no wrong. Now is that not wonderful in
this present age of ducats and steam-engines?"
"So wonderful, Marchese, that I can hardly believe it!"
"Cospetto! it is true I tell you. These men are absolutely devoted to
me, and think me a much greater man than Umberto of Savoy. Ebbene! I
posted my two men in a dark corner of the palazzo with instructions
not to move until I told them; then I went after our tenor, and found
him strumming on the mandolin while he awaited the arrival of the
Contessa."
"Ah! she had gone to the burial-ground."
"Yes! I did not know that until you told me. However, I hid myself
behind the tapestry in the outer room and waited. The Contessa
arrived, and, to my surprise, you also appeared. I caught a glimpse of
you at the door before that torch went out, but, of course, I did not
recognise you, and was puzzled to account for your presence there.
Luckily, I had a bottle of chloroform in my pocket, which I took with
me to the palace in case of accidents----"
"But what good would chloroform do?"
"Dame! have you ever seen Madame Morone in a rage?"
"No!"
"Then it is not a pretty sight, I can tell you. That woman is a devil,
and, for all I know, might have had some one in the palace to do her
bidding. If I had been found there, and taken at a disadvantage, I
might have occupied that delightful pillar and never been seen again.
Ah! you smile, mon ami, but remember this is Italy, not England, and
with a woman like the Contessa, who recalls the Borgia times so
admirably, it is always well to be prepared If she had discovered me,
my chloroform might have come in useful."
"It certainly did in my case!"
"Ma foi, I've told you before I did not know it was you. I only beheld
a stranger, and thinking that the stranger might interfere with my
plans, I stole across the ante-chamber, and when you fell back--well, I
used my chloroform. Then I left you lying hidden behind the tapestry,
and went on watching Madame Morone at her Borgian supper. She was
dragging Pallanza's body to the pillar, and, having safely shut him up
there, departed with a satisfied smile on her face; so I was left
alone with two apparently dead men--Pallanza in the pillar, and you
behind the tapestry."
"A sufficiently dramatic situation I think, Marchese."
"Eh! no doubt. There is more drama in life---especially in Italian
life--than people think, and there are even stranger events than this
comedy of the Palazzo Morone take place in our midst."
"From what I have seen of your people, Luigi, I quite believe it.
Well, about this dramatic situation--what did you do next?"
"Cospetto! I played my part on the stage with great judgment, I can
tell you. When I was sure that Madame Morone had left the palazzo I
re-lighted the candles, and went to see what appearance my man behind
the tapestry presented. To my surprise I recognised Signor Hugo
Cranston, and you may fancy I was considerably astonished, as I could
not understand how you had become mixed up in this Boccaccian
adventure. Friendship said, 'Revive him and apologize.' Caution
remarked, 'Remove him from the palazzo, and let him think the events
of the night a dream.'"
"Oh! and you adopted the advice of caution?"
"Diavolo! what else could I do? You might have interfered with my
plans; and, besides, I always intended to give you an explanation when
the Contessa became the Marchesa Beltrami. Circumstances, however,
have brought about the explanation sooner than I intended."
"So I see," I replied drily. "However, you removed me from the
palace."
"Yes! I called up my two men, and, telling them you
were--well--overcome by Bacchus, ordered them to take you to the
Piazza Vittorio Emanuele and leave you there. Ecco!"
"Oh, Beltrami."
"Eh, you reproach me. Well, I no doubt deserve your reproaches, but it
was the best excuse I could think of, as it doesn't do to trust
servants too much. Ebbene! they took you away and left you in the
Piazza, where you awoke in the morning?"
"I did, with a confounded headache."
"Ma foi! that was the chloroform, no doubt. Having thus arranged your
little matter I went to the pillar and released Guiseppe Pallanza."
"He was not dead, then?"
"No! She gave him ten drops, I tell you. So that, although he was not
actually dead, he had all the appearance of a corpse. I could not
revive him as I had not the antidote; so, when my two men returned, I
had him brought here."
"Here! In this house?"
"Precisely! he is in the next room. We will go and look at him
presently. But to continue: the next day I called upon the Contessa,
and told her I had seen all, suppressing, however, the fact that I had
carried off this unfortunate lover."
"Which accounted for her surprise to-day on seeing the pillar empty?"
"Of course; she never dreamed that I would meddle with her work. Well,
I gave her a choice of either explaining her little adventure to the
authorities, and thus run a chance of being imprisoned for life, or of
becoming my wife. Of these two evils she chose the least; so now I am
engaged to marry her, and she will become the Marchesa Beltrami next
month. Interesting, is it not, Hugo?"
It was no use arguing with this man, who, as he said himself, looked
at the affair in a totally different light from what I did, and I did
not know whether to loathe his brutal candour, to despise his
mercenary designs, or to admire his undoubted courage in marrying this
woman. However, I reflected that his subtle intriguing would
undoubtedly be sufficiently punished by his marriage with this tigress
of a Contessa, and as my only desire was to restore Pallanza to the
arms of Bianca, I neither condemned nor praised Beltrami's singular
conduct, which seemed admirable in his own eyes, but simply
complimented him on his adroitness in following the precepts of
Niccolo Machiavelli. He listened to my cold remarks with a
disbelieving smile on his face, and laughed mockingly when I ceased
speaking.
"Eh! Hugo, you do not approve of my ideas? Well, I do not wonder at
that Fire and water are not more different than an Italian and an
Englishman. Your cool blood comes from generations of church-going,
straight-laced ancestors, whose beliefs ruled their lives in a simple
manner; but my fiery blood burned in the veins of those condottieri of
the Renaissance who were at war with King and Pope and Republic, who
constantly stood on the verge of unseen precipices, and who needed all
their craft, their courage, and their iron nerve to preserve their
lives and fortunes. Dame! let us talk no more of such contrasts, but
come with me, and I will show you this missing lover of Madame
Morone."
I acquiesced eagerly in this proposal, and followed Beltrami, who led
me into his bedroom, and, having unlocked a door in the opposite wall,
ushered me into a small, bare apartment, containing a bed on which lay
the still form of Guiseppe Pallanza. There he was dressed the same as
on that fatal night, with his eyes closed, a frozen look on his white
face, and his hands crossed on his breast. Lying thus in his antique
garb he put me in mind of one of those coloured statues which adorn
the tombs of great men; where the face, the hair, and the vestments
are all tinted so as to produce the semblance of life. But was life
here, in the body of this young man, who lay so passively before me
with closed eyes as though he were indeed buried in some sepulchre of
the dead?
"Oh! he is alive," said Beltrami, guessing my thought as I shrank back
from the bed; "it is a case of suspended animation."
"But lasting three---four days?"
"Dame, yes! It would last much longer, I have no doubt. Ten drops
produce this life-in-death state which you see, fifteen drops the same
thing; but the one ends in death after a certain time, the other does
not."
"But why did you not go to the vault and find this antidote at once?"
"Well, to tell you the truth, Hugo, I thought it would be a useless
errand, as I do not know where to look for it. I fancied that Madame
Morone might have found another bottle of this damnable poison, but it
never struck me until I heard your story that she had read the letter
addressed by Morone to me, and gone to the vault for the poison."
"And what are we to do now?"
"Go to the vault, to be sure, and look for this antidote."
"But, the vault is locked!"
"True, I forgot that," said Beltrami, with a thoughtful frown,
"however, I think I can procure the key."
"From Madame Morone?"
"Dame! No! that would put her on her guard at once. I want her to
think Pallanza is still in this cataleptic state, otherwise she won't
marry me, as my power over her will be gone. I'll get the key somehow;
if not, one of my men knows something about picking locks, so we will
take him with us."
"A reputable servant, truly!"
"Eh! What would you!" said Beltrami carelessly, as he led the way out
of the room and locked the door. "Even lock-picking is useful on
occasions--witness the present one. Well, are you ready to go to the
vault with me to-night?"
"At night, Beltrami?"
"Most certainly. If we went in the daytime all Verona would be in
commotion. No! we must go at midnight when no one is about. Have you
the courage?"
"I think so! but I hope Madame Morone will not be there!"
"There's no fear of that, as she has no reason to pay a second
visit to the remains of her husband. She has got the poison, and knows
nothing about the antidote, so make yourself easy on that score.
Ecco!"
"What are you going to do now, Marchesa!"
"See if I can obtain that key. If I fail to obtain it, I will bring
Matteo with me. As for you, my friend, go and take something to eat,
and meet me on the Ponte Aleardi at midnight."
"I will be there, Beltrami. Good-bye for the present."
"À revederci, Hugo; I am obliged for your confidence, as it has solved
the difficulty of knowing what to do with Signor Cupid."
We both went different ways; Beltrami to search for his key, and
myself to hasten home to my hotel, and prepare myself for the fatigues
of this midnight excursion, which, however much it appealed to the
Marchese's sense of the romantic, was certainly not relished by me.