THE NEMESIS.
Meanwhile where was the siren who had lured Szekuly to destruction?
Where was she for whose sake Carl Podstadsky had precipitated himself
into the waters of obloquy? When the waves had engulfed him, she had
disappeared, and the last sounds that had rung in his ears were the
sounds of her cruel mirth!
Was there no punishment in reserve for such atrocity? No punishment for
this woman without heart, without pity, without remorse? Would no hand
unmask this beautiful fiend?
The hand is ready, but it is invisible; and Arabella, in her newfound
security, is dazzled at the magnitude of her own good fortune. "Whom the
gods wish to destroy they first blind." True, she had lost her gold, the
price of Szekuly's good fame; but she was not poor; her jewels were
worth many such a coffer of ducats. Once in possession of her casket,
she was again rich, happy, and courted. Not a creature, save Giuseppe,
knew the whereabouts of this precious casket, and with it they must away
to Paris!
It was dusk, and Giuseppe, with a travelling carriage, once more awaited
his mistress at the corner of the street. There remained nothing to do
now but to remove the coffer from its hiding-place, and that was the
work of half an hour. Arabella had the key of the little postern, and
there was no danger of spies, for the house was empty. Having avowed
herself to be the pensioned mistress of Podstadsky, the law had placed
its seal upon her effects, and they were all to be sold for the benefit
of the count's creditors.
The night was dark, and the street lanterns were propitiously dim. Here
and there was heard the step of a solitary foot-passenger, and from time
to time the monotonous tramp of the patrol. One of these patrols had
just passed the garden-wall of the hotel, of which the Countess Baillou
had been the presiding goddess. He looked up at the darkened windows as
he went, wondered whither the goddess had flown, and walked on. When the
echo of his step had died away from the pavement, and the last beams of
the lantern were flickering out, a dark, slender form emerged from one
of the pillars of the wall, and glided toward the little side-door,
which opened on that narrow street. The key was in the door, it clicked
in the lock, and the figure disappeared within. All was quiet.
"I am safe," thought she; "not a sound is within hearing. Now for my
treasures, and away I away from this hateful city forever!"
"Whom the gods would destroy, they first blind."
Arabella never suspected that, under cover of darkness, others besides
herself were lurking in that garden; and now as she advanced toward the
house, two tall figures approached the postern, and stationed themselves
on either side of it.
"She is caught," whispered one.
"Yes," replied another, "the bird has come of its own accord into the
net. We must wait now until we receive further orders."
Arabella, meanwhile, looked exultingly at the dark clouds which overhung
the sky, and almost laughed. "Thank you, fair moon," said she, "for
withdrawing your splendor at my behest. Tomorrow you shall shed your
soft beams upon my flight, for then I shall need your friendly light.
Far away from Vienna, I shall be rich, happy, and free!"
Now she was at the servants' entrance. Oh, how the hinges creaked, as
she opened the door! But what of it? No one was there to hear the sound.
How foolishly her heart was beating! Now she was inside, and, with
spasmodic haste, she bolted herself within. The darkness was intense.
She could not see her hand before her, and in spite of herself a cold
chill ran through her frame, and her knees trembled with vague terror.
What if, through this black expanse, a hand should suddenly touch hers!
and--"Oh, how dreadful is this darkness!" thought she. "I might die
here, and no one could come to my help! I feel as I did once before, on
that night of horror in Italy!"
She shuddered, and, almost swooning with fright, cowered under the
shelter of the marble balustrade, to which she had by this time groped
her way. And now, before her terrified soul, swept phantom after
phantom, all from the miserable spirit-land of the past. Once more she
lived through a night dark as this, when a wretched, betrayed,
dishonored girl, she had slunk through the streets of Rome in search of
death--death and annihilation in the black waves of the Tiber. She felt
the waters engulf her, she heard her own death-cry, the last protest of
youth against self-destruction; and then she felt the grasp of
Podstadsky--Podstadsky who, in restoring her to the world, had laid a
new curse upon her life. Until then she had been luxurious, frivolous,
pleasure-loving; but in the Tiber she had found a new and terrible
baptism--the baptism of crime. Without love she had consented to become
Podstadsky's mistress, and so became the partner of his guilt. Together
they had planned their bold schemes of fraud, and, oh, how successful
they had been until this last misfortune! At all events, her connection
with Podstadsky was at an end. The pillory had liberated her, and
now--now she would lead a blameless life. No more fraud--no more theft.
Crime was too dangerous; she saw that it must inexorably lead to shame.
She would be satisfied with what she had, and become a virtuous woman.
She was quite rich enough to be good, and it would be such bliss to live
without a guilty secret!
She laughed, and then shivered at the sound of her own voice, and a
supernatural terror took such violent hold of her imagination, that she
could no longer bear the darkness. She must see, or she would die of
fear. Giuseppe had provided her with a dark lantern, a vial of
phosphorus, and some matches.
"How delightful it is to have this new invention!" thought she, as,
touching the phosphorus, she struck a light. With this light she felt a
little reassured, but could she have seen her blanched, terror-stricken
face, she would have screamed, and fancied it a spectre!
Hush! Was there a muffled sound behind her? She paused and listened, her
eyes glaring as though they would start from their sockets. Pshaw! it
was only the rustling of her own silk mantle as it went trailing up the
marble staircase. Nothing in human shape was there, save two pale
statues, which stood like dead sentinels at the head of the stairs. As
she passed these she shuddered, and almost fancied that they had stepped
from their pedestals to follow her. Giving one quick glance behind, she
sped like a hunted doe through those halls, of which so lately she had
been the pride, and arrived breathless at the door of her boudoir. She
darted in, and there, safe in its place, was the picture.
This gave her courage. But she must have rest after her fearful
pilgrimage through that dark, empty house. She sank upon her satin
lounge, and abandoned herself to the joy and security of the hour. She
had just come to the end of a perilous journey. Night and danger were
behind, the rosy morning of safety was about to dawn. She was so full of
joyous emotion, that scarcely knowing what she did, her lips began to
move in unconscious prayer!
Prayer! She had no right to such a privilege as that; and starting from
her seat, lest she should falter in the purpose of her visit, she
quickly removed the picture, touched the spring, and the precious coffer
stood revealed.
No, no, she could never give it up! She stretched out her arms, and
pressed it to her heart, as a mother does her only child. Trembling with
eager joy, she placed it on the table, and opening it, contemplated her
treasures on their beds of crimson velvet.
How they sparkled! How they seemed to burn with splendor as the rays of
the little lantern coquetted with their beauty! She was repaid for all
her terrors, she was happy and secure!
"Whom the gods would destroy, they first blind."
She was so absorbed in the magnificence of her diamond necklace for
which she had been indebted to the Princess Garampi, that she did not
hear the footfall of the men who were close behind her. They smiled, and
pantomimed one to another as they watched her toying with her flashing
jewels.
Then suddenly springing forward, as if they feared she might escape
through the secret opening in the wall, they grasped her with their
powerful hands, and she was once more a prisoner.
"The emperor can no longer defend his beautiful countess," said the one
who seemed to direct the others. "We have caught her in the act of
robbing Count Podstadsky's creditors. And, unless I am mistaken, we
shall find among her booty all the jewels that were missing at last
winter's entertainments; for, as I had the honor of reminding his
majesty, the Countess Baillou was at every ball where jewels were lost.
I told the emperor that if he would give you freedom, I engaged to find
something more than a mare's nest when I tracked you hither. I was sure
you would come, and my spies have been within, waiting for you since
this morning."
"What reward was promised by the emperor for my detection?" said
Arabella, now self-possessed.
"Five hundred ducats," was the reply.
"Five hundred ducats?" repeated she, tossing back her beautiful head. "A
beggarly reward for the person of a lady of rank like me! Take this
necklace, and divide it between you. Each one will then have more than
the frugal emperor has promised to all. Take it and give me my freedom.
Your generous act will never be known."
"How, lady! You would bribe us, as you have bribed so many noble
cavaliers? No, no. Your game is at an end, and if ever you appear in
public again, it will be as a criminal. You must come with me. You, men,
take up this coffer."
She strove no longer. Without another word she took the arm of the
police-officer and went firmly forward.
Her lips moved, and she murmured: "Alas he is right. My career is at an
end." [Footnote: This beautiful woman, "the ornament of the most elegant
circles in Vienna," as she is called by the chroniclers of the times,
was condemned to three days of pillory, the same punishment as that
suffered by the victim of her wickedness and coquetry. She was then sent
guarded to the confines of Austria, from whence she was banished for
life.--See Hubner, ii., 392. Gross-Hoffinger, iii.]