NISIDA'S EMOTIONS--THE DISGUISE--THE PLOT.
We must now return to Nisida, whom we left gazing from the window of the
Riverola mansion, at the moment when Wagner rushed away from the
vicinity of his lady-love on the approach of sunset.
The singularity of his conduct--the look of ineffable horror and anguish
which he cast upon her, ere he parted from her presence--and the
abruptness of his departure, filled her mind with the most torturing
misgivings, and with a thousand wild fears.
Had his senses suddenly left him? was he the prey to fits of mental
aberration which would produce so extraordinary an effect upon him? had
he taken a sudden loathing and disgust to herself? or had he
_discovered_ anything in respect to her which had converted his love
into hatred?
She knew not--and conjecture was vain! To a woman of her excitable
temperament, the occurrence was particularly painful. She had never
known the passion of love until she had seen Wagner; and the moment she
did see him, she loved him. The sentiment on her part originated
altogether in the natural sensuality of her disposition; there was
nothing pure--nothing holy--nothing refined in her affection for him; it
was his wonderful personal beauty that had made so immediate and
profound an impression upon her heart.
There was consequently something furious and raging in that passion
which she experienced for Fernand Wagner--a passion capable of every
extreme--the largest sacrifices, or infuriate jealousies--the most
implicit confidence, or the maddest suspicion! It was a passion which
would induce her to ascend the scaffold to save him; or to plunge the
vengeful dagger into his heart did she fancy that he deceived her!
To one, then, whose soul was animated by such a love, the conduct of
Fernand was well adapted to wear even an exaggerated appearance of
singularity; and as each different conjecture swept through her
imagination, her emotions were excited to an extent which caused her
countenance to vary its expressions a hundred times in a minute.
The fury of the desolating torrent, the rage of the terrific volcano,
the sky cradled in the blackest clouds, the ocean heaving tempestuously
in its mighty bed, the chafing of a tremendous flood against an
embankment which seems ready every moment to give way, and allow the
collected waters to burst forth upon the broad plains and into the
peaceful valleys--all these occurrences in the physical world were
imagined by the emotions that now agitated within the breast of the
Italian lady.
Her mind was like the sea put in motion by the wind; and her eyes
flashed fire, her lips quivered, her bosom heaved convulsively, her neck
arched proudly, as if she were struggling against ideas that forced
themselves upon her and painfully wounded her boundless patrician pride.
For the thought that rose uppermost amidst all the conjectures which
rushed to her imagination, was that Fernand had conceived an invincible
dislike toward her.
Wherefore did he fly thus--as if eager to place the greatest possible
distance between herself and him?
Then did she recall to mind every interchange of thought that had passed
between them through the language of the fingers; and she could fix upon
nothing which, emanating from herself, had given him offense.
Had he then really lost his senses?
Madly did he seem to be rushing toward the Arno, on whose dark tide the
departing rays of the setting sun glinted with oscillating and dying
power.
She still continued to gaze from the window long after he had
disappeared; obscurity was gathering rapidly around; but, even had it
been noonday, she would have seen nothing. Her ideas grew bewildered:
mortification, grief, anger, suspicion, burning desire, all mingled
together and at length produced a species of stunning effect upon her,
so that the past appeared to be a dream, and the future was wrapt in the
darkest gloom and uncertainty.
This strange condition of her mind did not, however, last long; the
natural energy of her character speedily asserted its empire over the
intellectual lethargy which had seized upon her, and, awakening from her
stupor, she resolved to waste not another instant in useless conjecture
as to the cause of her lover's conduct.
Hastening to her own apartments, she dismissed Flora Francatelli, whom
she found there, with an abruptness of gesture and a frowning expression
of countenance amounting to an act of cruelty toward that resigned and
charming girl; so that as the latter hastened from the room, tears
started from her eyes, and she murmured to herself, "Can it be possible
that Donna Nisida suspects the attachment her brother has formed toward
me? Oh! if she do, the star of an evil destiny seems already to rule my
horoscope!"
Scarcely had Flora disappeared in this sorrowing manner, when Nisida
secured the outer door of her own suit of apartments, and hurried to her
bed-chamber. There she threw aside the garb belonging to her sex, and
assumed that of a cavalier, which she took from a press opening with a
secret spring. Then, having arranged her hair beneath a velvet tocque
shaded with waving black plumes, in such a manner that the disguise was
as complete as she could render it, she girt on a long rapier of finest
Milan steel, and throwing the short cloak edged with costly fur,
gracefully over her left shoulder, she quitted her chamber by a private
door opening behind the folds of the bed curtains.
A narrow and dark staircase admitted her into the gardens of the
Riverola mansion. These she crossed with a step so light and free, that
had it been possible to observe her in the darkness of the evening, she
would have been taken for the most elegant and charming cavalier that
ever honored the Florentine Republic with his presence.
In about a quarter of an hour she reached the abode of Dr. Duras; but
instead of entering it, she passed round one of its angles, and opening
a wicket by means of a key which she had about her, gained access to the
gardens in the rear of the mansion.
She traversed these grounds with hasty steps, passing the boundary which
separated them from the gardens of Wagner's dwelling, and then relaxing
her pace, advanced with more caution to the windows of this very
apartment where Agnes had been so alarmed two months previously, by
observing the countenance at the casement.
But all was now dark within. Wagner was not in his favorite room--for
Nisida _knew_ that this was her lover's favorite apartment.
Perhaps he had not yet returned?
Thus thought the lady; and she walked slowly round the spacious
dwelling, which, like the generality of the patrician mansions of
Florence in those times--as indeed is now the case to a considerable
extent--stood in the midst of extensive gardens.
There were lights in the servants' offices; but every other room seemed
dark. No; one window in the front, on the ground-floor, shone with the
luster of a lamp.
Nisida approached it, and beheld Agnes reclining in a pensive manner on
a sofa in a small but elegantly-furnished apartment. Her countenance was
immediately overclouded; and for an instant she lingered to gaze upon
the sylph-like form that was stretched upon that ottoman. Then she
hastily pursued her way; and, having perfected the round of the
building, once more reached the windows of her lover's favorite room.
Convinced that he had not returned, and fearful of being observed by any
of the domestics who might happen to pass through the gardens, Nisida
retraced her way toward the dwelling of Dr. Duras. But her heart was now
heavy, for she knew not how to act.
Her original object was to obtain an interview with Wagner that very
night, and learn, if possible, the reason of his extraordinary conduct
toward her: for the idea of remaining in suspense for many long, long
hours, was painful in the extreme to a woman of her excitable nature.
She was, however, compelled to resign herself to this alternative; and,
having let herself through the wicket belonging to the physician's
gardens, she directed her steps homeward.
On her way she passed by the gate of the Convent of Carmelite Nuns--one
of the wealthiest, most strictly disciplined, and celebrated monastic
establishments in the Florentine Republic.
It appeared that a sudden thought here struck her; for ascending to the
steep leading to the gate, she paused beneath the lamp of the deep
Gothic portico, took out her tablets, and hastily wrote the following
words:
"Donna Nisida of Riverola requests an interview with the Lady Abbess
Maria to-morrow at midday, on a matter seriously regarding the spiritual
welfare of a young female who has shown great and signal disregard for
the rites and ordinances of the most Holy Catholic Church: and in
respect to whom the most severe measures must be adopted. Donna Nisida
will visit the holy mother to-morrow at midday."
Having written these words, Nisida tore off the leaf and thrust it
through a small square grating set in the massive door of the convent.
Then ringing the bell to call attention to the gate, she hastily pursued
her way homeward.
She had gained the gardens of the Riverola mansion, and was advancing
toward the door of the private staircase leading to her chamber, when
she suddenly perceived two dark figures standing within a few yards of
her. Fearful that they might be domestics belonging to the household,
she hastily and noiselessly retreated within the deep shade of the wall
of the mansion, and there she remained motionless.
We must now detail the conversation which passed between the two
individuals whose presence in the garden had thus alarmed the Lady
Nisida.
"But are you sure of what you say, Antonio?" demanded one of the men.
"By Saint Jacopo! I cannot be mistaken," was the reply. "The closet has
been locked up for years and years, and the old count always used to
keep the keys in an iron chest, which was also carefully locked and
chained round. What can the place possibly contain but a treasure?"
"After all it is only conjecture on your part; and that being the case,
it is not worth while to risk one's life----"
"You are a coward, Stephano!" exclaimed Antonio, angrily. "The closet
has got a heavy, massive door, and a prodigiously strong lock; and if
these precautions were not adopted to protect a hoard of wealth, why
were they taken at all, let me ask you?"
"There is something in what you say," replied Stephano; "but you do
wrong to call me a coward. If it were not that we were cousins, and
linked by a bond of long maintained friendship, I would send my rapier
through your doublet in a twinkling."
"Nay; I do not mean to anger thee, Stephano," cried the valet. "But let
us speak lower: chafe not, I pray thee!"
"Well--well!" said the other, gloomily; "go on, in the name of your
patron saint! Only keep a guard upon your tongue, for it wags somewhat
too freely; and remember that a man who has been for fifteen years the
captain of as gallant a band as ever levied contributions on the lieges
of the republic, is not to have '_coward_' thrown in his teeth."
"Let it pass, good Stephano!" urged the valet. "I tell thee that a
closet whereof I have spoken, can contain naught save a
treasure--perhaps in gold--perhaps in massive plate."
"We can dispose of either to our advantage," observed the bandit, with a
coarse chuckle.
"Will you undertake the business?" demanded Antonio.
"I will," was the resolute answer; "and as much to convince you that
Stephano is not a coward, as for any other reason. But when is it to be
done? and why did you make an appointment to meet me here, of all places
in Florence?"
"It can be done when you choose," replied Antonio; "and as for the other
questions, I desired you to meet me here, because I knew that you would
not refuse a fine chance; and, suspecting this much it was necessary to
show you the geography of the place."
"Good!" observed the robber-chief. "To-morrow night I have a little
affair in hand for a reverend and holy father, who is sure to be chosen
superior of his order if his rival in the candidature be removed; and in
four-and-twenty hours the said rival must be food for the fishes of the
Arno."
"Then the night after that?" suggested Antonio.
"Pre-engaged again," returned the bandit-captain coolly. "A wealthy
countess has been compelled to pledge her diamonds to a Jew; on Sunday
next she must appear with her husband at the palace of the Medici; and
on Saturday night, therefore, the diamonds must be recovered from the
Jew."
"Then the husband knows not that they are so pledged?" said Antonio.
"Scarcely," answered the brigand. "They were deposited with the Jew for
a loan which the countess raised to accommodate her lover. Now do you
understand?"
"Perfectly. What say you to next Monday night?"
"I am at your service," responded Stephano. "Monday will suit me
admirably, and midnight shall be the hour. And now instruct me in the
nature of the locality."
"Come with me, and I will show you by which way you and your comrades
must effect an entry," said Antonio.
The valet and the robber-chief now moved away from the spot where they
had stood to hold the above conversation; and the moment they had turned
the adjacent angle of the mansion, Nisida hastened to regain her
apartment by the private staircase--resolving, however, to see Wagner as
early as possible in the morning.