THE girl had sunk into a chair, her face hidden, a picture of shame and
agony. So moving was the sight that Tony once again forgot his own
extremity in the view of her distress. He went and kneeled beside her,
drawing her hands from her face.
"Oh, don't make me look at you!" she sobbed; but it was on his bosom
that she hid from his gaze. He held her there a breathing-space, as he
might have clasped a weeping child; then she drew back and put him
gently from her.
"What humiliation!" she lamented.
"Do you think I blame you for what has happened?"
"Alas, was it not my foolish letter that brought you to this plight?
And how nobly you defended me! How generous it was of you not to show
the letter! If my father knew I had written to the Ambassador to save
me from this dreadful marriage his anger against me would be even
greater."
"Ah--it was that you wrote for?" cried Tony with unaccountable relief.
"Of course--what else did you think?"
"But is it too late for the Ambassador to save you?"
"From _you?_" A smile flashed through her tears. "Alas, yes." She drew
back and hid her face again, as though overcome by a fresh wave of
shame.
Tony glanced about him. "If I could wrench a bar out of that window--"
he muttered.
"Impossible! The court is guarded. You are a prisoner, alas.--Oh, I
must speak!" She sprang up and paced the room. "But indeed you can
scarce think worse of me than you do already--"
"I think ill of you?"
"Alas, you must! To be unwilling to marry the man my father has chosen
for me--"
"Such a beetle-browed lout! It would be a burning shame if you married
him."
"Ah, you come from a free country. Here a girl is allowed no choice."
"It is infamous, I say--infamous!"
"No, no--I ought to have resigned myself, like so many others."
"Resigned yourself to that brute! Impossible!"
"He has a dreadful name for violence--his gondolier has told my little
maid such tales of him! But why do I talk of myself, when it is of you
I should be thinking?"
"Of me, poor child?" cried Tony, losing his head.
"Yes, and how to save you--for I _can_ save you! But every moment
counts--and yet what I have to say is so dreadful."
"Nothing from your lips could seem dreadful."
"Ah, if he had had your way of speaking!"
"Well, now at least you are free of him," said Tony, a little wildly;
but at this she stood up and bent a grave look on him.
"No, I am not free," she said; "but you are, if you will do as I tell
you."
Tony, at this, felt a sudden dizziness; as though, from a mad flight
through clouds and darkness, he had dropped to safety again, and the
fall had stunned him.
"What am I to do?" he said.
"Look away from me, or I can never tell you."
He thought at first that this was a jest, but her eyes commanded him,
and reluctantly he walked away and leaned in the embrasure of the
window. She stood in the middle of the room, and as soon as his back
was turned she began to speak in a quick monotonous voice, as though
she were reciting a lesson.
"You must know that the Marquess Zanipolo, though a great noble, is not
a rich man. True, he has large estates, but he is a desperate
spendthrift and gambler, and would sell his soul for a round sum of
ready money.--If you turn round I shall not go on!--He wrangled
horribly with my father over my dowry--he wanted me to have more than
either of my sisters, though one married a Procurator and the other a
grandee of Spain. But my father is a gambler too--oh, such fortunes as
are squandered over the arcade yonder! And so--and so--don't turn, I
implore you--oh, do you begin to see my meaning?"
She broke off sobbing, and it took all his strength to keep his eyes
from her.
"Go on," he said.
"Will you not understand? Oh, I would say anything to save you! You
don't know us Venetians--we're all to be bought for a price. It is not
only the brides who are marketable--sometimes the husbands sell
themselves too. And they think you rich--my father does, and the
others--I don't know why, unless you have shown your money too
freely--and the English are all rich, are they not? And--oh, oh--do you
understand? Oh, I can't bear your eyes!"
She dropped into a chair, her head on her arms, and Tony in a flash was
at her side.
"My poor child, my poor Polixena!" he cried, and wept and clasped her.
"You _are_ rich, are you not? You would promise them a ransom?" she
persisted.
"To enable you to marry the Marquess?"
"To enable you to escape from this place. Oh, I hope I may never see
your face again." She fell to weeping once more, and he drew away and
paced the floor in a fever.
Presently she sprang up with a fresh air of resolution, and pointed to
a clock against the wall. "The hour is nearly over. It is quite true
that my father is gone to fetch his chaplain. Oh, I implore you, be
warned by me! There is no other way of escape."
"And if I do as you say--?"
"You are safe! You are free! I stake my life on it."
"And you--you are married to that villain?"
"But I shall have saved you. Tell me your name, that I may say it to
myself when I am alone."
"My name is Anthony. But you must not marry that fellow."
"You forgive me, Anthony? You don't think too badly of me?"
"I say you must not marry that fellow."
She laid a trembling hand on his arm. "Time presses," she adjured him,
"and I warn you there is no other way."
For a moment he had a vision of his mother, sitting very upright, on a
Sunday evening, reading Dr. Tillotson's sermons in the best parlour at
Salem; then he swung round on the girl and caught both her hands in
his. "Yes, there is," he cried, "if you are willing. Polixena, let the
priest come!"
She shrank back from him, white and radiant. "Oh, hush, be silent!" she
said.
"I am no noble Marquess, and have no great estates," he cried. "My
father is a plain India merchant in the colony of Massachusetts--but if
you--"
"Oh, hush, I say! I don't know what your long words mean. But I bless
you, bless you, bless you on my knees!" And she knelt before him, and
fell to kissing his hands.
He drew her up to his breast and held her there.
"You are willing, Polixena?" he said.
"No, no!" She broke from him with outstretched hands. "I am not
willing. You mistake me. I must marry the Marquess, I tell you!"
"On my money?" he taunted her; and her burning blush rebuked him.
"Yes, on your money," she said sadly.
"Why? Because, much as you hate him, you hate me still more?"
She was silent.
"If you hate me, why do you sacrifice yourself for me?" he persisted.
"You torture me! And I tell you the hour is past."
"Let it pass. I'll not accept your sacrifice. I will not lift a finger
to help another man to marry you."
"Oh, madman, madman!" she murmured.
Tony, with crossed arms, faced her squarely, and she leaned against the
wall a few feet off from him. Her breast throbbed under its lace and
falbalas, and her eyes swam with terror and entreaty.
"Polixena, I love you!" he cried.
A blush swept over her throat and bosom, bathing her in light to the
verge of her troubled brows.
"I love you! I love you!" he repeated.
And now she was on his breast again, and all their youth was in their
lips. But her embrace was as fleeting as a bird's poise and before he
knew it he clasped empty air, and half the room was between them.
She was holding up a little coral charm and laughing. "I took it from
your fob," she said. "It is of no value, is it? And I shall not get any
of the money, you know."
She continued to laugh strangely, and the rouge burned like fire in her
ashen face.
"What are you talking of?" he said.
"They never give me anything but the clothes I wear. And I shall never
see you again, Anthony!" She gave him a dreadful look. "Oh, my poor
boy, my poor love--'_I love you, I love you, Polixena!_'"
He thought she had turned light-headed, and advanced to her with
soothing words; but she held him quietly at arm's length, and as he
gazed he read the truth in her face.
He fell back from her, and a sob broke from him as he bowed his head on
his hands.
"Only, for God's sake, have the money ready, or there may be foul play
here," she said.
As she spoke there was a great tramping of steps outside and a burst of
voices on the threshold.
"It is all a lie," she gasped out, "about my marriage, and the
Marquess, and the Ambassador, and the Senator--but not, oh, not about
your danger in this place--or about my love," she breathed to him. And
as the key rattled in the door she laid her lips on his brow.
The key rattled, and the door swung open--but the black-cassocked
gentleman who stepped in, though a priest indeed, was no votary of
idolatrous rites, but that sound orthodox divine, the Reverend Ozias
Mounce, looking very much perturbed at his surroundings, and very much
on the alert for the Scarlet Woman. He was supported, to his evident
relief, by the captain of the Hepzibah B., and the procession was
closed by an escort of stern-looking fellows in cocked hats and
small-swords, who led between them Tony's late friends the magnificoes,
now as sorry a looking company as the law ever landed in her net.
The captain strode briskly into the room, uttering a grunt of
satisfaction as he clapped eyes on Tony.
"So, Mr. Bracknell," said he, "you have been seeing the Carnival with
this pack of mummers, have you? And this is where your pleasuring has
landed you? H'm--a pretty establishment, and a pretty lady at the head
of it." He glanced about the apartment and doffed his hat with mock
ceremony to Polixena, who faced him like a princess.
"Why, my girl," said he, amicably, "I think I saw you this morning in
the square, on the arm of the Pantaloon yonder; and as for that Captain
Spavent--" and he pointed a derisive finger at the Marquess--"I've
watched him drive his bully's trade under the arcade ever since I first
dropped anchor in these waters. Well, well," he continued, his
indignation subsiding, "all's fair in Carnival, I suppose, but this
gentleman here is under sailing orders, and I fear we must break up
your little party."
At this Tony saw Count Rialto step forward, looking very small and
explanatory, and uncovering obsequiously to the captain.
"I can assure you, sir," said the Count in his best English, "that this
incident is the result of an unfortunate misunderstanding, and if you
will oblige us by dismissing these myrmidons, any of my friends here
will be happy to offer satisfaction to Mr. Bracknell and his
companions."
Mr. Mounce shrank visibly at this, and the captain burst into a loud
guffaw.
"Satisfaction?" says he. "Why, my cock, that's very handsome of you,
considering the rope's at your throats. But we'll not take advantage of
your generosity, for I fear Mr. Bracknell has already trespassed on it
too long. You pack of galley-slaves, you!" he spluttered suddenly,
"decoying young innocents with that devil's bait of yours--" His eye
fell on Polixena, and his voice softened unaccountably. "Ah, well, we
must all see the Carnival once, I suppose," he said. "All's well that
ends well, as the fellow says in the play; and now, if you please, Mr.
Bracknell, if you'll take the reverend gentleman's arm there, we'll bid
adieu to our hospitable entertainers, and right about face for the
Hepzibah."