THE ISLAND QUEEN.
Oh! how beautiful--how enchantingly beautiful seemed Nisida, as her
delicate feet bore her glancingly along the sunny banks of the crystal
stream, to the soft music of its waters. How the slight drapery which
she wore set off the rich undulations of that magnificent form! How the
wreaths and garlands of fantastically woven flowers became the romantic
loveliness of her person--that glowing Hebe of the South!
Holding in her fair hand a light, slim wand, and moving through the
delicious vale with all the soft abandonment of gait and limb which
feared no intrusion on her solitude, she appeared that Mediterranean
island's queen. What, though the evening breeze, disporting with her
raiment, lifted it from her glowing bosom?--she cared not; no need for
sense of shame was there! What though she laid aside her vesture to
disport in the sea at morn?--no furtive glances did she cast round; no
haste did she make to resume her garments; for whose eye, save that of
God, beheld her?
But was she happy? Alas! there were moments when despair seized upon her
soul; and, throwing herself on the yellow sand, or on some verdant bank,
she would weep--oh! she would weep such bitter, bitter tears, that those
who have been forced to contemplate her character with aversion, must
now be compelled to pity her.
Yes; for there were times when all the loveliness of that island seemed
but a hideous place of exile, an abhorrent monotony which surrounded
her--grasped her--clung to her--hemmed her in, as if it were an evil
spirit, having life and the power to torture her. She thought of those
whom she loved, she pondered upon all the grand schemes of her
existence, and she felt herself cut off from a world to which there were
so many ties to bind her, and in which she had so much to do. Then she
would give way to all the anguish of her soul--an anguish that amounted
to the deepest, blackest despair, when her glances wildly swept the
cloudless horizon, and beheld not a sail--no! nor a speck on the ocean
to engender hope. But when this tempest of grief and passion was past,
she would be angry with herself for having yielded to it; and, in order
to distract her thoughts from subjects of gloom, she would bound toward
the groves, light as a fawn, the dazzling whiteness of her naked and
polished ankles gleaming in contrast with the verdure of the vale.
One morning after Nisida had been many, many days on the island, she was
seated on the sand, having just completed her simple toilet on emerging
from the mighty bath that lay stretched in glassy stillness far as the
eye could reach, when she suddenly sprung upon her feet, and threw
affrighted looks around her. Had she possessed the faculty of hearing,
it would be thought that she was thus startled by the sound of a human
voice which had at that instant broken upon the solemn stillness of the
isle--a human voice emanating from a short distance behind her. As yet
she saw no one; but in a few moments a man emerged from the nearest
grove, and came slowly toward her.
He was dressed in a light jerkin, trunk-breeches, tight hose, and
boot--in all as an Italian gentleman of that day, save in respect to hat
and doublet, of which he had none. Neither wore he a sword by his side,
nor carried any weapons of defense; and it was evident he approached the
island queen with mingled curiosity and awe.
Perhaps he deemed her to be some goddess, endowed with the power and the
will to punish his intrusion on her realm; or peradventure his
superstitious imagination dwelt on the tales which sailors told in those
times--how mermaids who fed on human flesh dwelt on the coasts of
uninhabited islands, and assuming the most charming female forms, lured
into their embrace the victims whom shipwreck cast upon their strand,
and instead of lavishing on them the raptures of love, made them the
prey of their ravenous maws.
Whatever were his thoughts, the man drew near with evident distrust.
But, now--why does Nisida's countenance become suddenly crimson with
rage? why rushes she toward the stores which still remained piled up on
the strand? and wherefore, with the rapidity of the most feverish
impatience, does she hurl the weapons of defense into the sea, all save
one naked sword, with which she arms herself? Because her eagle glance,
quicker than that of the man who is approaching her, has recognized
_him_, ere he has even been struck with a suspicion relative to who
_she_ is--and that man is Stephano Verrina!
Now, Nisida! summon all thine energies to aid thee; for a strong, a
powerful, a remorseless man, devoured with lust for thee, is near. And
thou art so ravishingly beautiful in thy aerial drapery, and thy wreaths
of flowers, that an anchorite could not view thee with indifference! Ah!
Stephano starts--stops short--advances: the suspicion has struck him!
The aquiline countenance, those brilliant large, dark eyes, that
matchless raven hair, that splendid symmetrical maturity of form, and
withal, that close compression of the vermilion lips, O Nisida! have
been scanned in rapid detail by the brigand!
"Nisida!" he exclaimed; "Yes, it is she!"
And he bounded toward her with outstretched arms.
But the sharp sword was presented to his chest; and the lady stood with
an air of such resolute determination, that he stopped short gazing upon
her with mingled wonderment and admiration. Heavens! he had never beheld
so glorious a specimen of female loveliness as that whereon his eyes
were fastened,--fastened beyond the possibility of withdrawal. How
glossy black was that hair with its diadem of white roses! How miserably
poor appeared the hues of the carnations and the pinks that formed her
necklace, when in contrast with her flushing cheeks! How dingy were the
lilies at her waist, compared with her heaving breast!
The reason of the brigand reeled, his brain swam round, and for a moment
it seemed to him that she was not a being of this world; not the Nisida
he had known and carried off from Italy, but a goddess, another and yet
the same in all the glory of those matchless charms which had heretofore
ravished--no, maddened him!
And now the spirit of this bold and reckless man was subdued--subdued,
he knew not how nor wherefore; but still subdued by the presence of her
whom he had deemed lost in the waves, but who seemed to stand before
him, with flowers upon her brow and a sharp weapon in her hand--radiant,
too, with loveliness of person, and terrible with the fires of hatred
and indignation!
Yes! he was subdued--overawed--rendered timid as a young child in her
presence; and sinking upon his knees, he exclaimed--forgetful that he
was addressing Nisida the deaf and dumb--"Oh! fear not--I will not harm
thee! But, my God! take compassion on me--spurn me not--look not with
such terrible anger upon one who adores, who worships you! How is it
that I tremble and quail before you--I, once so reckless, so rude. But,
oh! to kiss that fair hand--to be your slave--to watch over you--to
protect you--and all this but for thy smiles in return--I should be
happy--supremely happy! Remember--we are alone on this island--and I am
the stronger; I might compel you by force to yield to me--to become
mine; but I will not harm you--no, not a hair of your head, if you will
only smile upon me! And you will require one to defend and protect
you--yes, even here in this island, apparently so secure and safe;--for
there are terrible things in this clime--dreadful beings, far more
formidable than whole hordes of savage men--monsters so appalling that
not all thy courage, nor all thy energy would avail thee a single moment
against them. Yes, lady, believe me when I tell thee this! For
many--many days have I dwelt, a lonely being, on the other side of this
isle, beyond that chain of mountains--remaining on that shore to which
the wild waves carried me on the night of shipwreck. But I hurried away
at last--I dared all the dangers of mighty precipices, yawning chasms,
and roaring torrents--the perils of yon mountains--rather than linger on
the other side. For the anaconda, lady, is the tenant of this
island--the monstrous snake--the terrible boa, whose dreadful coils, if
wound round that fair form of yours, would crush it into a hideous,
loathsome mass?"
Stephano had spoken so rapidly, and with such fevered excitement that he
had no time to reflect whether he were not wasting his words upon a
being who could not hear them; until exhausted and breathless with the
volubility of his utterance he remembered that he was addressing himself
to Nisida the deaf and dumb. But happily his appealing and his suppliant
posture had softened the lady: for toward the end of his long speech a
change came over her countenance, and she dropped the point of her sword
toward the ground.
Stephano rose, and stood gazing on her for a few moments with eyes that
seemed to devour her. His mind had suddenly recovered much of its wonted
boldness and audacity. So long as Nisida seemed terrible as well as
beautiful, he was subdued;--now that her eyes had ceased to dart forth
lightnings, and the expression of her countenance had changed from
indignation and resolute menace to pensiveness and a comparatively
mournful softness, the bandit as rapidly regained the usual tone of his
remorseless mind.
Yes; he stood gazing on her for a few moments, with eyes that seemed to
devour her:--then, in obedience to the impulse of maddening desire, he
rushed upon her, and in an instant wrenched the sword from her grasp.
But rapid as lightning, Nisida bounded away from him, ere he could wind
his arms around her; and fleet as the startled deer, she hastened toward
the groves.
Stephano, still retaining the sword in his hand, pursued her with a
celerity which was sustained by his desire to possess her and by his
rage that she had escaped him. But the race was unequal as that of a
lion in chase of a roe; for Nisida seemed borne along as it were upon
the very air. Leaving the groves on her left she dashed into the vale.
Along the sunny bank of the limpid stream she sped;--on, on toward a
forest that bounded the valley at the further end, and rose
amphitheatrically up toward the regions of the mountains!
Stephano Verrina still pursued her, though losing ground rapidly; but
still he maintained the chase. And now the verge of the forest is nearly
gained; and in its mazes Nisida hopes to be enabled to conceal herself
from the ruffian whom, by a glance hastily cast behind from time to
time, she ascertains to be upon her track. But, oh! whither art thou
flying thus wildly, beauteous Nisida?--into what appalling perils art
thou rushing, as it were, blindly? For there, in the tallest tree on the
verge of the forest to which thou now art near,--there, amidst the
bending boughs and the quivering foliage--one of the hideous serpents
which infest the higher region of the isle is disporting--the terrible
anaconda--the monstrous boa, whose dreadful coils, if wound round that
fair form of thine, would crush it into a loathsome mass!