Corilla had kept her word. She had sent to Alexis Orloff, Carlo’s
brother, Joseph Ribas, the galley-slave, and with a malicious smile
she had said to the latter, “You will avenge me on your treacherous
brother?”
Count Orloff warmly welcomed Corilla’s _protege_.
“If you give me satisfaction,” said he, “you may expect a royal
recompense, and the favor of the exalted Empress of Russia. First of
all, tell me what you can do?”
“Not much,” said Joseph Ribas, laughing, “and the little I can will yet
be condemned as too much. I can very dexterously wield the dagger, and
reach the heart through the back! Because I did that to a successful
rival at Palermo, I was compelled by the police to flee to Naples. There
a good friend taught me how to make counterfeit money, an art which I
brought to some perfection, and which I successfully practised for some
years. But the police, thinking my skill too great, finally relieved me
from my employment, and gave me free board and lodging for ten years in
the galley. Ah, that was a happy time, your excellency. I learned much
in the galleys, and something which I can now turn to account in your
service. I learned to speak the Russian language like a native of
Moscow. Such a one was for seven years my inseparable friend and
chain-companion, and as he was too stupid or too lazy to learn my
language, I was forced to learn his, that I might be able to converse
with him a little. That, your excellency, is about all I know; to wield
the dagger, make counterfeit money, speak the Russian language, and
some other trifling tricks, which, however, may be of service to your
excellency.”
“Who knows?” said Orloff, laughing. “Do you understand, for example, how
to break into a house and steal gold and diamonds, without being caught
in the act?”
“That,” said Joseph, thoughtfully, “I should hope to be able to
accomplish. I have, indeed, as yet, had no experience in that line, but
in the galleys I have listened to the soundest instructions, and heard
the experiences of the greatest master of that art, with the curiosity
of an emulous student!”
Orloff laughed. “You are a sly fellow,” said he, “and please me much.
If you act as well as you talk, we shall soon be good friends! Well,
to-morrow night you make your first essay. The business is an invasion.”
“And that shall be my masterpiece!” responded Joseph Ribas.
“If you succeed, I will, in the name of my illustrious empress,
immediately take you into her service, and you become an officer of the
Russian marine.”
Joseph Ribas stared at him with astonishment. “That is certainly an
immense honor and a great good fortune,” said he, “only I should like
to know if the Russian marine engages in sea-fights, and if the officers
are obliged to stand under fire?”
“Yes, indeed,” cried Orloff, laughing, “but in such cases you can
conceal yourself behind the cannon until the fight is over!”
“I shall remember your wise suggestion in time of need!” seriously
responded Joseph Ribas, bowing to the count.(*) “And where, your
excellency, is to be the scene of my present activity? Where am I to
gain my epaulets?”
(*) And, in fact, Ribas did remember it! At a later period,
having become a Russian admiral, he was intrusted with the
command of the flotilla which was to descend the Danube to
aid in the capture of Kilia and Ismail. But during the
investment of Ismail (December 21, 1790), Ribas concealed
himself among the reeds on the bank of the Danube, and did
not reappear until the danger was over and he could in
safety share in the booty taken by his sailors. But this
cowardice and avarice of their admiral very nearly caused a
mutiny among the sailors. It was not suppressed without the
greatest efforts.
“I will myself conduct you to the spot and show you the house where a
rich set of diamonds and some thousands of scudi are lying in company
with your epaulets!”
“And as I have rather long fingers, I shall be able to grasp both the
epaulets and the treasure,” laughingly responded Ribas.
It was in the evening after this conversation of Orloff with Joseph
Ribas, a wonderfully brilliant evening, such as is known only under
Italian skies.
Natalie inhaled the soft air with delight, and drank in the intoxicating
odor of the flowers which poured out their sweetest fragrance in the
cool of the evening. She was on this evening unusually cheerful; with
the smiling brow and childish gayety, as in happier days, she skipped
down the alleys, or, with her guitar upon her arm, reposed upon her
favorite seat under the myrtle-bush near the murmuring fountains.
“I am to-day so happy, ah, so happy,” said she, “in consequence of
having dreamed of Paulo--in my dream he was near me, spoke to me, and
that is a sure sign of his speedy return! Oh, certainly, certainly!
In my dream he announced it to me, and I distinctly heard him say: ‘We
shall meet again, Natalie. I shall soon be with you!’”
“Ah, may this dream but prove true!” sighed Marianne, Natalie’s faithful
companion. She was standing, not far from her mistress, with Carlo, and
both were tenderly observing the young maiden, who now smilingly grasped
her guitar and commenced a song of joy for Paulo’s expected return!
“I have no faith in our count’s return!” whispered Marianne while
Natalie was singing. “It is a bad sign that no news, not a line, nor
even the shortest message, had yet come from him. Something unusual,
some great and uncontrollable misfortune, must have prevented his
writing!”
“You do not think they have imprisoned him?” asked Carlo.
“I fear it,” sighed Marianne. “And if so, what fate then awaits our
poor princess? Helpless, alone, without means! For if the count is
imprisoned, he will no longer be in a condition to send money as he
promised. And we now possess only a thousand scudi, with double that
amount in diamonds!”
“Then we are still rich enough to keep off deprivations for a time!”
said Carlo.
“But when at length these last resources are exhausted?” asked
Marianne--“when we no longer have either money or diamonds--how then?”
“Oh, then,” exclaimed Carlo, with a beaming face, “then will we labor
for her! That, also, will be a pleasure, Marianne!”
While the two were thus conversing, Natalie, with a happy smile and
cheerful face, was still singing her hymn of joy for Paulo’s approaching
return to the accompaniment of the rustling trees, the murmuring
fountains, and the chirping birds in the myrtle-bush. It was a beautiful
night, and as the bright full moon now advanced between the pines,
illuminating Natalie’s face and form, the partially intoxicated and
perfectly happy Carlo whispered: “Only look, Marianne! does she not
resemble a blessed angel ready to spread her wings, and with the
moonlight to mount up to the stars? Only look, seems it not as if the
moonbeams tenderly embraced her for the purpose of leading an angel back
to its home?”
“May she, at least, one day, with such a happy smile, take her departure
for the skies!” sighed Marianne, piously folding her hands.
At this moment a shrill, cutting wail interrupted Natalie’s song. A
string of her guitar had suddenly snapped asunder; frightened, almost
angry, Natalie let the instrument fall to the earth, and again the
strings resounded like lamentations and sighs.
“That is a bad omen,” sighed Natalie. “How, if that should be true, and
not my dream?”
And trembling with anxiety, the young maiden stretched forth her hands
toward her friends.
“Carlo--Marianne,” she anxiously said, “come here to me, protect me with
your love from this mortal fear and anguish which has suddenly come over
me. See, the moon is hiding behind the clouds. Ah, the whole world grows
dark and casts a mourning veil over its bright face!”
And the timid child, clinging to Marianne’s arm, concealed her face in
the bosom of her motherly friend.
“And you call that an omen!” said Carlo, with forced cheerfulness. “This
time, princess, I am the _fatum_ which has alarmed you! It is my own
fault that this string broke. It was already injured and half broken
this evening when I tuned the guitar, but I hoped it would suffice for
the low, sad melodies you now always play. Yes, could I have known that
you would have so exulted and shouted, I should have replaced it with
another string, and this great misfortune would not have occurred.”
While speaking, he had again attached the string and drawn it tight.
“The defective string is quickly repaired, and you can recommence your
hymn of joy,” he said, handing back the guitar to Natalie.
She sadly shook her head. “It is passed,” said she, “I can exult and
sing no more to-day, and have an aversion to this garden. See how black
and threatening these pines rise up, and do not these myrtle-bushes
resemble large dark graves? No, no; it frightens me here--I can no
longer remain among these graves and these watchers of the dead! Come,
let us go to our rooms! It is night--we will sleep and dream! Come, let
us immediately go into the house.”
And like a frightened roe she fled toward the house, the others
following her.
In an hour all was silent in the villa. The lights were successively
extinguished in Natalie’s and Marianne’s chambers; only in Carlo’s
little chamber yet burned a dull, solitary lamp, and occasionally the
shadow of the uneasy singer passed the window as he restlessly walked
his room. At length, however, this lamp also was distinguished, and all
was dark and still.
About this time a dark shadow was seen creeping slowly and cautiously
through the garden. Soon it stood still, and then one might have
supposed it to be a deception, and that only the wind shaking the pines
had caused that moving shadow. But suddenly it again appeared in a
moonlighted place, where no bush or tree threw its shade, and, as if
alarmed by the brightness, it then again moved aside into the bushes.
This shadow came constantly nearer and nearer to the house, and as the
walks were here broader and lighter, one might distinctly discern
that it was a human being, the form of a tall, stately man, that so
cautiously and stealthily approached the house. And what is that,
sparkling and flashing in his girdle--is it not a dagger, together with
a pistol and a long knife? Ah, a threatening, armed man is approaching
this silent, solitary house, and no one sees, no one hears him! Even the
two large hounds which with remarkable watchfulness patrol the garden
during the night, even they are silent! Ah, where, then, are they? Carlo
had himself unchained them that they might wander freely--where, then,
can they be?
They lie in the bushes far from the house, cold, stiff, and lifeless.
Before them lies a piece of seductively smelling meat. That was what had
enticed them to forget their duty, and, instead of growling and barking,
they had with snuffling noses been licking this tempting flesh. Their
instinct had not told them it was poisoned, and therefore they now lay
stiff and cold near the food that had destroyed them.
No, from those hounds he had nothing more to fear, this bold, audacious
man; the hounds will no more betray him, nor warningly announce that
Joseph Ribas, the venturesome thief and galley-slave, is lurking about
the house to steal or murder, as the case may be.
He has now reached the house. He listens for a moment, and as
all remains still, no suspicious noise making itself heard, with
pitch-covered paper, brought with him for the purpose, he presses in one
of the window panes. Then, passing his hand through the vacancy caused
by the absent pane of glass, he opens one wing of the French window,
and, by a bold leap springing upon the parapet, he lets himself glide
slowly down into the room.
Again all is still, and silent lies the solitary, peaceful villa.
Suddenly appears a small but bright light behind one of these dark
windows.
That is the thief’s lantern, which Joseph Ribas has lighted to
illuminate his dark, criminal way.
He cautiously ascends the stairs leading to the second story, and not a
step jars under his feet, not one, nor does the slightest noise betray
him.
He is now above, in the long corridor. Approaching the first door, he
listens long. He hears a loud breathing--some one sleeps within. With
one sole quick movement he turns the key remaining in the lock. The door
is now locked, and the sleeper within remains undisturbed. Joseph creeps
along to the next door, and again he listens to ascertain if there be
anything stirring within. But no, he hears nothing! All is still behind
the door.
He draws a pistol from his girdle, cocks it, and, thus prepared to
resist every attack, he suddenly opens the door. No one is in the room,
no one but Joseph Ribas the thief, who, with flashing eyes, suspiciously
and carefully examines every hole and corner.
But no, no one is there. Calm and sure, Joseph Ribas, steps into the
room, drawing and bolting the door behind him. No one can now surprise
him, no one can fall upon him from behind. But yes, there is also a
door on each side, right and left. He listens at the first, he thinks he
hears a light breathing; here also he quickly shoves a bolt and passes
over to the other door, which stands ajar. Cautiously he pushes it open
and looks in. A small, dull lamp is burning there, lighting the lovely
face of the sleeping Princess Natalie.
“That is she!” low murmured Ribas, as with eager glances he observes
the young and charming maiden. He is drawn forward as if with invisible
bands--he penetrates into this sacred asylum of the slumbering maiden.
But he forcibly checks his advance. “I have sworn not to touch her,
and I will keep my word, that I may secure my epaulets!” he muttered to
himself, and, retreating into the first chamber, he bolts the door, to
make all sure, that leads into Natalie’s chamber.
“Now to the work!” said he, with decision. “Here stands the bureau, the
treasure must be here.”
And, placing his dark lantern upon a table, he draws forth his picklock
and chisels, and commences breaking open the bureau. Right--this
thievish instinct has not deceived him, he has found all, all. Here is
the little box of sparkling diamonds, and here the full purses of money.
With a knavish smile, Joseph Ribas conceals the brilliants in his bosom,
and deposits the money in his capacious pockets.
“It is a pity that this is not mine,” he muttered with a grin, “but
toward this count I must act as an honorable thief, and I have promised
to bring it all truly to him.”
The work is completed, the malicious criminal act is performed. He can
now go, can again creep away from the house his feet have soiled.
Why does he not? Why does he linger in these rooms? Why directs he such
wild and eager glances to the door behind which Natalie sleeps?
He cannot withstand the temptation, and even at the risk of awaking
Natalie, he must see her once more! And, moreover, what had he to fear
from an isolated young girl? He will only have one more look at her.
Nothing more!
He noiselessly pushes back the bolt; noiselessly, upon tiptoe, with
closed lantern, he creeps into the room and to Natalie’s bedside.
She is wonderfully beautiful, and she smiles in her slumber. How
charming is that placid face, that half-uncovered shoulder, that arm
thrown up over her head, where it is half concealed under her luxuriant
locks! Wonderfully beautiful is she. Dares he to touch that arm and
breathe a kiss, a very light kiss, upon those fragrant lips? Why not? No
one sees him, nor will Count Alexis Orloff ever know that his commands
have been disobeyed.
But as he bent down, as his breath comes only in light contact with her
cheek, she stirs! Maiden modesty never slumbers; it watches over the
sleeping girl, it protects her. It is her good genius who never deserts
her.
Drawing herself up, Natalie opens her eyes and starts up from her couch.
Then she sees a large, threatening masculine form close before her,
close before her that wildly-laughing face.
A shriek of terror and anguish bursts from her lips, and in a tone of
alarm she calls: “Carlo, Carlo! Help! help! Carlo! Save--”
More she did not say. With a wild rage, angry, and ashamed of his own
folly, Joseph Ribas rushes upon her.
“One more cry!” he threateningly said--“one more call for help, and I
will murder you!”
But at this moment a small curtained door which Ribas had not remarked
and hence not fastened, was suddenly opened, and Carlo rushed in.
“I am here, Natalie!--I am here!”
Rushing upon the stranger, and grasping him with gigantic strength, he
thrust him down from the bed.
Joseph Ribas turned toward his new and unexpected enemy. The lamp
lighted his face, and falling back Carlo shrieked, “My brother!”
Joseph Ribas broke out into a loud, savage laugh. “At length we meet,
my brother,” said he. “But this time you shall not hinder me in my work.
This time I am the conqueror!”
“No, no, that you are not!” cried Carlo, beside himself with pain and
rage. “Confess what you want in this house--confess, or you are a dead
man!”
And with a drawn dagger he rushed upon his opponent!
A frightful struggle ensued. Natalie, in her night-dress, pale as a
lily, knelt upon her bed and prayed. She had folded her hands over her
breast, directly over the place where the papers confided to her by
Paulo, in a little silken bag, always hung suspended by a golden chain.
“Grant, O my God,” prayed she--“grant that I may keep my promise to
Paulo, and that I may defend these papers with my life!”
And the two brothers were still struggling and contending; like two
serpents they had coiled around each other, and held each other in their
toils.
“Flee, flee, Natalie!” groaned Carlo, with a weakened voice--“flee away
from here! I yet hold him, you are yet safe! Flee!”
But in this moment the maiden thought not of her own danger. She thought
only of Carlo. Springing from her bed, with flashing eyes she boldly
threw herself between the contending men.
“No, no,” said she, courageously, “I will not flee--I shall at least
know how to die!”
A shriek resounded from Carlo’s lips, his arms relaxed and fell from his
enemy, leaving his brother free.
“Ah, finally, finally!” gasped the panting Joseph. “That was an
amusing carnival farce, my virtuous brother! Farewell! I am this time
triumphant!”
With a wild leap he sprang to the door; brandishing his bloody dagger
in his right hand, he ran through the corridor, down the stairs, and out
into the garden.
“Saved!” said he, breathing more freely. “I think this Russian will be
satisfied with me! I bring the money and the diamonds, and at the same
time have effectually opened a vein for this troublesome protector! Ah,
it seems to me I have very successfully put in practice my studies in
the high-school of the galleys!”
And, humming a jovial song, Joseph Ribas swung himself into a tree close
to the wall, and let himself down on the other side.
Above, in Natalie’s chamber, Carlo long lay stretched on the floor,
pale, with the death-rattle in his throat. In a bright stream flowed the
blood from the wound made by his brother’s dagger. Natalie knelt by
him. No tear was in her eye, no lamentation escaped her lips. She seemed
perfectly calm and collected in her excess of sorrow; she only sought
with her robe and her hair to cover Carlo’s wound and stop the flow of
blood.
A happy smile played upon Carlo’s blue lips.
“I die,” he murmured, “but I die for thee! Thy _vapo_ has kept his word,
he has defended thee until his last breath! How good is God! He lets me
die in thy service!”
“No, no, you must not die!” cried Natalie, her calmness giving way to
the wildest sorrow. “No, Carlo, you must live! Oh, say not that you die!
Ah, you love me, and yet you would leave me alone! Only live, and I also
will love you, Carlo, as warmly and as glowingly as you love me! Do but
remain with me, and my heart, my life shall be yours!”
“Too late! too late!” murmured Carlo, with dying lips. “Remember me,
Natalie--I have dearly loved you. I die happy, for I die in your arms!”
“No, no, you shall live in my arms!” sobbed she. “I will be yours--your
bride!”
“Kiss me, my bride,” he falteringly stammered.
She bent over him, and with hers she touched his lips, already
stiffening in death. She laid her warm, glowing cheek to his cold and
marble-pale face; that full, fresh life pressed that which was cold and
expiring to her bosom in an ardent struggle with death! In vain!
Death is inexorable. What he has once touched with his hand, that is
past recovery, it is his.
The blood no longer flowed from Carlo’s wound, the breath no longer
rattled in his throat--it was silent; but a blessed smile still lay upon
his lips. With this smile had he died, happy, blessed in the embrace of
her he had so truly loved.
When Marianne, after long and vain efforts to open the door, had finally
managed, by tying her bed-clothes together, to let herself down into the
garden, and had thence hastened into the house, and up into Natalie’s
chamber, she found there all silent and still. Nothing stirred. Natalie
lay in a deathlike swoon.
He, Carlo, already stiffened in death, and she, the senseless Natalie,
with her head reclining against the marble face of her friend!
Poor Natalie! Why must Marianne succeed in awakening thee from thy
swoon? Why did you not let her continue in her insensibility, Marianne?
In sleep, she at least would not have realized that she was now left
entirely alone, entirely abandoned, with no one to defend her against
her cruel and artful enemies, of whose existence she never once dreamed!