The next morning, when Nanina rose, a bad attack of headache, and
a sense of languor and depression, reminded her of the necessity of
following the doctor’s advice, and preserving her health by getting
a little fresh air and exercise. She had more than two hours to spare
before the usual time when her daily attendance began at the Ascoli
Palace; and she determined to employ the interval of leisure in taking a
morning walk outside the town. La Biondella would have been glad enough
to go too, but she had a large order for dinner-mats on hand, and was
obliged, for that day, to stop in the house and work. Thus it happened
that when Nanina set forth from home, the learned poodle, Scarammuccia,
was her only companion.
She took the nearest way out of the town; the dog trotting along in his
usual steady, observant way close at her side, pushing his great rough
muzzle, from time to time, affectionately into her hand, and trying hard
to attract her attention at intervals by barking and capering in front
of her. He got but little notice, however, for his pains. Nanina was
thinking again of all that the physician had said the day before by
Fabio’s bedside, and these thoughts brought with them others, equally
absorbing, that were connected with the mysterious story of the young
nobleman’s adventure with the Yellow Mask. Thus preoccupied, she had
little attention left for the gambols of the dog. Even the beauty of the
morning appealed to her in vain. She felt the refreshment of the cool,
fragrant air, but she hardly noticed the lovely blue of the sky, or
the bright sunshine that gave a gayety and an interest to the commonest
objects around her.
After walking nearly an hour, she began to feel tired, and looked about
for a shady place to rest in.
Beyond and behind her there was only the high-road and the flat
country; but by her side stood a little wooden building, half inn, half
coffee-house, backed by a large, shady pleasure-garden, the gates of
which stood invitingly open. Some workmen in the garden were putting
up a stage for fireworks, but the place was otherwise quiet and lonely
enough. It was only used at night as a sort of rustic Ranelagh, to
which the citizens of Pisa resorted for pure air and amusement after
the fatigues of the day. Observing that there were no visitors in the
grounds, Nanina ventured in, intending to take a quarter of an hour’s
rest in the coolest place she could find before returning to Pisa.
She had passed the back of a wooden summer-house in a secluded part
of the gardens, when she suddenly missed the dog from her side;
and, looking round after him, saw that he was standing behind the
summer-house with his ears erect and his nose to the ground, having
evidently that instant scented something that excited his suspicion.
Thinking it possible that he might be meditating an attack on some
unfortunate cat, she turned to see what he was watching. The carpenters
engaged on the firework stage were just then hammering at it violently.
The noise prevented her from hearing that Scarammuccia was growling, but
she could feel that he was the moment she laid her hand on his back. Her
curiosity was excited, and she stooped down close to him to look through
a crack in the boards before which he stood into the summer-house.
She was startled at seeing a lady and gentleman sitting inside. The
place she was looking through was not high enough up to enable her to
see their faces, but she recognized, or thought she recognized, the
pattern of the lady’s dress as one which she had noticed in former days
in the Demoiselle Grifoni’s show-room. Rising quickly, her eye detected
a hole in the boards about the level of her own height, caused by a knot
having been forced out of the wood. She looked through it to ascertain,
without being discovered, if the wearer of the familiar dress was the
person she had taken her to be; and saw, not Brigida only, as she had
expected, but Father Rocco as well. At the same moment the carpenters
left off hammering and began to saw. The new sound from the firework
stage was regular and not loud. The voices of the occupants of the
summer-house reached her through it, and she heard Brigida pronounce the
name of Count Fabio.
Instantly stooping down once more by the dog’s side, she caught
his muzzle firmly in both her hands. It was the only way to keep
Scarammuccia from growling again, at a time when there was no din of
hammering to prevent him from being heard. Those two words, “Count
Fabio,” in the mouth of another woman, excited a jealous anxiety in her.
What could Brigida have to say in connection with that name? She never
came near the Ascoli Palace--what right or reason could she have to talk
of Fabio?
“Did you hear what I said?” she heard Brigida ask, in her coolest,
hardest tone.
“No,” the priest answered. “At least, not all of it.”
“I will repeat it, then. I asked what had so suddenly determined you to
give up all idea of making any future experiments on the superstitious
fears of Count Fabio?”
“In the first place, the result of the experiment already tried has been
so much more serious than I had anticipated, that I believe the end I
had in view in making it has been answered already.”
“Well; that is not your only reason?”
“Another shock to his mind might be fatal to him. I can use what I
believe to be a justifiable fraud to prevent his marrying again; but I
cannot burden myself with a crime.”
“That is your second reason; but I believe you have another yet. The
suddenness with which you sent to me last night to appoint a meeting
in this lonely place; the emphatic manner in which you requested--I may
almost say ordered--me to bring the wax mask here, suggest to my mind
that something must have happened. What is it? I am a woman, and my
curiosity must be satisfied. After the secrets you have trusted to me
already, you need not hesitate, I think, to trust me with one more.”
“Perhaps not. The secret this time is, moreover, of no great importance.
You know that the wax mask you wore at the ball was made in a plaster
mold taken off the face of my brother’s statue?”
“Yes, I know that.”
“My brother has just returned to his studio; has found a morsel of the
plaster I used for the mold sticking in the hair of the statue; and
has asked me, as the person left in charge of his work-rooms, for an
explanation. Such an explanation as I could offer has not satisfied him,
and he talks of making further inquiries. Considering that it will be
used no more, I think it safest to destroy the wax mask, and I asked you
to bring it here, that I might see it burned or broken up with my own
eyes. Now you know all you wanted to know; and now, therefore, it is my
turn to remind you that I have not yet had a direct answer to the first
question I addressed to you when we met here. Have you brought the wax
mask with you, or have you not?”
“I have not.”
“And why?”
Just as that question was put, Nanina felt the dog dragging himself free
of her grasp on his mouth. She had been listening hitherto with such
painful intensity, with such all-absorbing emotions of suspense, terror,
and astonishment, that she had not noticed his efforts to get away,
and had continued mechanically to hold his mouth shut. But now she was
aroused by the violence of his struggles to the knowledge that, unless
she hit upon some new means of quieting him, he would have his mouth
free, and would betray her by a growl.
In an agony of apprehension lest she should lose a word of the momentous
conversation, she made a desperate attempt to appeal to the dog’s
fondness for her, by suddenly flinging both her arms round his neck, and
kissing his rough, hairy cheek. The stratagem succeeded. Scarammuccia
had, for many years past, never received any greater marks of his
mistress’s kindness for him than such as a pat on the head or a present
of a lump of sugar might convey. His dog’s nature was utterly confounded
by the unexpected warmth of Nanina’s caress, and he struggled up
vigorously in her arms to try and return it by licking her face. She
could easily prevent him from doing this, and could so gain a few
minutes more to listen behind the summer-house without danger of
discovery.
She had lost Brigida’s answer to Father Rocco’s question; but she was in
time to hear her next words.
“We are alone here,” said Brigida. “I am a woman, and I don’t know that
you may not have come armed. It is only the commonest precaution on my
part not to give you a chance of getting at the wax mask till I have
made my conditions.”
“You never said a word about conditions before.”
“True. I remember telling you that I wanted nothing but the novelty
of going to the masquerade in the character of my dead enemy, and the
luxury of being able to terrify the man who had brutally ridiculed me in
old days in the studio. That was the truth. But it is not the less the
truth that our experiment on Count Fabio has detained me in this city
much longer than I ever intended, that I am all but penniless, and that
I deserve to be paid. In plain words, will you buy the mask of me for
two hundred scudi?”
“I have not twenty scudi in the world, at my own free disposal.”
“You must find two hundred if you want the wax mask. I don’t wish to
threaten--but money I must have. I mention the sum of two hundred scudi,
because that is the exact amount offered in the public handbills by
Count Fabio’s friends for the discovery of the woman who wore the yellow
mask at the Marquis Melani’s ball. What have I to do but to earn that
money if I please, by going to the palace, taking the wax mask with me,
and telling them that I am the woman. Suppose I confess in that way;
they can do nothing to hurt me, and I should be two hundred scudi the
richer. You might be injured, to be sure, if they insisted on knowing
who made the wax model, and who suggested the ghastly disguise--”
“Wretch! do you believe that my character could be injured on the
unsupported evidence of any words from your lips?”
“Father Rocco, for the first time since I have enjoyed the pleasure of
your acquaintance, I find you committing a breach of good manners. I
shall leave you until you become more like yourself. If you wish to
apologize for calling me a wretch, and if you want to secure the wax
mask, honor me with a visit before four o’clock this afternoon, and
bring two hundred scudi with you. Delay till after four, and it will be
too late.”
An instant of silence followed; and then Nanina judged that Brigida must
be departing, for she heard the rustling of a dress on the lawn in
front of the summer-house. Unfortunately, Scarammuccia heard it too. He
twisted himself round in her arms and growled.
The noise disturbed Father Rocco. She heard him rise and leave the
summer-house. There would have been time enough, perhaps, for her
to conceal herself among some trees if she could have recovered her
self-possession at once; but she was incapable of making an effort to
regain it. She could neither think nor move--her breath seemed to die
away on her lips--as she saw the shadow of the priest stealing over the
grass slowly from the front to the back of the summer-house. In another
moment they were face to face.
He stopped a few paces from her, and eyed her steadily in dead silence.
She still crouched against the summer-house, and still with one hand
mechanically kept her hold of the dog. It was well for the priest that
she did so. Scarammuccia’s formidable teeth were in full view, his
shaggy coat was bristling, his eyes were starting, his growl had changed
from the surly to the savage note; he was ready to tear down, not Father
Rocco only, but all the clergy in Pisa, at a moment’s notice.
“You have been listening,” said the priest, calmly. “I see it in your
face. You have heard all.”
She could not answer a word; she could not take her eyes from him.
There was an unnatural stillness in his face, a steady, unrepentant,
unfathomable despair in his eyes that struck her with horror. She
would have given worlds to be able to rise to her feet and fly from his
presence.
“I once distrusted you and watched you in secret,” he said, speaking
after a short silence, thoughtfully, and with a strange, tranquil
sadness in his voice. “And now, what I did by you, you do by me. You
put the hope of your life once in my hands. Is it because they were not
worthy of the trust that discovery and ruin overtake me, and that
you are the instrument of the retribution? Can this be the decree of
Heaven--or is it nothing but the blind justice of chance?”
He looked upward, doubtingly, to the lustrous sky above him, and sighed.
Nanina’s eyes still followed his mechanically. He seemed to feel their
influence, for he suddenly looked down at her again.
“What keeps you silent? Why are you afraid?” he said. “I can do you no
harm, with your dog at your side, and the workmen yonder within call.
I can do you no harm, and I wish to do you none. Go back to Pisa; tell
what you have heard, restore the man you love to himself, and ruin me.
That is your work; do it! I was never your enemy, even when I distrusted
you. I am not your enemy now. It is no fault of yours that a fatality
has been accomplished through you--no fault of yours that I am rejected
as the instrument of securing a righteous restitution to the Church.
Rise, child, and go your way, while I go mine, and prepare for what is
to come. If we never meet again, remember that I parted from you without
one hard saying or one harsh look--parted from you so, knowing that
the first words you speak in Pisa will be death to my character, and
destruction to the great purpose of my life.”
Speaking these words, always with the same calmness which had marked
his manner from the first, he looked fixedly at her for a little while,
sighed again, and turned away. Just before he disappeared among the
trees, he said “Farewell,” but so softly that she could barely hear it.
Some strange confusion clouded her mind as she lost sight of him.
Had she injured him, or had he injured her? His words bewildered
and oppressed her simple heart. Vague doubts and fears, and a sudden
antipathy to remaining any longer near the summer-house, overcame her.
She started to her feet, and, keeping the dog still at her side, hurried
from the garden to the highroad. There, the wide glow of sunshine, the
sight of the city lying before her, changed the current of her thoughts,
and directed them all to Fabio and to the future.
A burning impatience to be back in Pisa now possessed her. She hastened
toward the city at her utmost speed. The doctor was reported to be in
the palace when she passed the servants lounging in the courtyard. He
saw the moment, she came into his presence, that something had happened,
and led her away from the sick-room into Fabio’s empty study. There she
told him all.
“You have saved him,” said the doctor, joyfully. “I will answer for his
recovery. Only let that woman come here for the reward; and leave me to
deal with her as she deserves. In the meantime, my dear, don’t go away
from the palace on any account until I give you permission. I am going
to send a message immediately to Signor Andrea D’Arbino to come and hear
the extraordinary disclosure that you have made to me. Go back to read
to the count, as usual, until I want you again; but, remember, you
must not drop a word to him yet of what you have said to me. He must be
carefully prepared for all that we have to tell him; and must be kept
quite in the dark until those preparations are made.”
D’Arbino answered the doctor’s summons in person; and Nanina repeated
her story to him. He and the doctor remained closeted together for some
time after she had concluded her narrative and had retired. A little
before four o’clock they sent for her again into the study. The doctor
was sitting by the table with a bag of money before him, and D’Arbino
was telling one of the servants that if a lady called at the palace
on the subject of the handbill which he had circulated, she was to be
admitted into the study immediately.
As the clock struck four Nanina was requested to take possession of
a window-seat, and to wait there until she was summoned. When she had
obeyed, the doctor loosened one of the window-curtains, to hide her from
the view of any one entering the room.
About a quarter of an hour elapsed, and then the door was thrown open,
and Brigida herself was shown into the study. The doctor bowed, and
D’Arbino placed a chair for her. She was perfectly collected, and
thanked them for their politeness with her best grace.
“I believe I am addressing confidential friends of Count Fabio
d’Ascoli?” Brigida began. “May I ask if you are authorized to act for
the count, in relation to the reward which this handbill offers?”
The doctor, having examined the handbill, said that the lady was quite
right, and pointed significantly to the bag of money.
“You are prepared, then,” pursued Brigida, smiling, “to give a reward of
two hundred scudi to any one able to tell you who the woman is who wore
the yellow mask at the Marquis Melani’s ball, and how she contrived to
personate the face and figure of the late Countess d’Ascoli?”
“Of course we are prepared,” answered D’Arbino, a little irritably. “As
men of honor, we are not in the habit of promising anything that we are
not perfectly willing, under proper conditions, to perform.”
“Pardon me, my dear friend,” said the doctor; “I think you speak
a little too warmly to the lady. She is quite right to take every
precaution. We have the two hundred scudi here, madam,” he continued,
patting the money-bag; “and we are prepared to pay that sum for the
information we want. But” (here the doctor suspiciously moved the bag
of scudi from the table to his lap) “we must have proofs that the person
claiming the reward is really entitled to it.”
Brigida’s eyes followed the money-bag greedily.
“Proofs!” she exclaimed, taking a small flat box from under her cloak,
and pushing it across to the doctor. “Proofs! there you will find one
proof that establishes my claim beyond the possibility of doubt.”
The doctor opened the box, and looked at the wax mask inside it; then
handed it to D’Arbino, and replaced the bag of scudi on the table.
“The contents of that box seem certainly to explain a great deal,” he
said, pushing the bag gently toward Brigida, but always keeping his
hand over it. “The woman who wore the yellow domino was, I presume, of
the same height as the late countess?”
“Exactly,” said Brigida. “Her eyes were also of the same color as the
late countess’s; she wore yellow of the same shade as the hangings in
the late countess’s room, and she had on, under her yellow mask, the
colorless wax model of the late countess’s face, now in your friend’s
hand. So much for that part of the secret. Nothing remains now to be
cleared up but the mystery of who the lady was. Have the goodness, sir,
to push that bag an inch or two nearer my way, and I shall be delighted
to tell you.”
“Thank you, madam,” said the doctor, with a very perceptible change in
his manner. “We know who the lady was already.”
He moved the bag of scudi while he spoke back to his own side of the
table. Brigida’s cheeks reddened, and she rose from her seat.
“Am I to understand, sir,” she said, haughtily, “that you take advantage
of my position here, as a defenseless woman, to cheat me out of the
reward?”
“By no means, madam,” rejoined the doctor. “We have covenanted to pay
the reward to the person who could give us the information we required.”
“Well, sir! have I not given you part of it? And am I not prepared to
give you the whole?”
“Certainly; but the misfortune is, that another person has been
beforehand with you. We ascertained who the lady in the yellow domino
was, and how she contrived to personate the face of the late Countess
d’Ascoli, several hours ago from another informant. That person has
consequently the prior claim; and, on every principle of justice, that
person must also have the reward. Nanina, this bag belongs to you--come
and take it.”
Nanina appeared from the window-seat. Brigida, thunderstruck, looked
at her in silence for a moment; gasped out, “That girl!”--then stopped
again, breathless.
“That girl was at the back of the summer-house this morning, while you
and your accomplice were talking together,” said the doctor.
D’Arbino had been watching Brigida’s face intently from the moment of
Nanina’s appearance, and had quietly stolen close to her side. This was
a fortunate movement; for the doctor’s last words were hardly out of
his mouth before Brigida seized a heavy ruler lying, with some writing
materials, on the table. In another instant, if D’Arbino had not caught
her arm, she would have hurled it at Nanina’s head.
“You may let go your hold, sir,” she said, dropping the ruler, and
turning toward D’Arbino with a smile on her white lips and a wicked
calmness in her steady eyes. “I can wait for a better opportunity.”
With those words she walked to the door; and, turning round there,
regarded Nanina fixedly.
“I wish I had been a moment quicker with the ruler,” she said, and went
out.
“There!” exclaimed the doctor; “I told you I knew how to deal with her
as she deserved. One thing I am certainly obliged to her for--she has
saved us the trouble of going to her house and forcing her to give up
the mask. And now, my child,” he continued, addressing Nanina, “you
can go home, and one of the men-servants shall see you safe to your own
door, in case that woman should still be lurking about the palace. Stop!
you are leaving the bag of scudi behind you.”
“I can’t take it, sir.”
“And why not?”
“_She_ would have taken money!” Saying those words, Nanina reddened, and
looked toward the door.
The doctor glanced approvingly at D’Arbino. “Well, well, we won’t argue
about that now,” he said. “I will lock up the money with the mask for
to-day. Come here to-morrow morning as usual, my dear. By that time
I shall have made up my mind on the right means for breaking your
discovery to Count Fabio. Only let us proceed slowly and cautiously, and
I answer for success.”