"And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then,
When your eyes roll so. ... ... ... ... ...
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Alas! why gnaw you so your nether lip?
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:
These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me."
SHAKSPEARE.
Ellena was awakened from profound sleep, by a loud noise at the door of
her chamber; when, starting from her mattress, she looked around her
with surprise and dismay, as imperfect recollections of the past began
to gather on her mind. She distinguished the undrawing of iron bars,
and then the countenance of Spalatro at her door, before she had a
clear remembrance of her situation--that she was a prisoner in a house
on a lonely shore, and that this man was her jailor. Such sickness of
the heart returned with these convictions, such faintness and terror,
that unable to support her trembling frame, she sunk again upon the
mattress, without demanding the reason of this abrupt intrusion.
"I have brought you some breakfast," said Spalatro, "if you are awake
to take it; but you seem to be asleep yet. Surely you have had sleep
sufficient for one night; you went to rest soon enough."
Ellena made no reply, but, deeply affected with a sense of her
situation, looked with beseeching eyes at the man, who advanced,
holding forth an oaten cake and a bason of milk. "Where shall I set
them?" said he, "you must needs be glad of them, since you had no
supper."
Ellena thanked him, and desired he would place them on the floor, for
there was neither table nor chair in the room. As he did this, she
was struck with the expression of his countenance, which exhibited a
strange mixture of archness and malignity. He seemed congratulating
himself upon his ingenuity, and anticipating some occasion of triumph;
and she was so much interested, that her observation never quitted him
while he remained in the room. As his eyes accidentally met her's, he
turned them away, with the abruptness of a person who is conscious
of evil intentions, and fears lest they should be detected; nor once
looked up till he hastily left the chamber, when she heard the door
secured as formerly.
The impression, which his look had left on her mind, so wholly engaged
her in conjecture, that a considerable time elapsed before she
remembered that he had brought the refreshment she so much required;
but, as she now lifted it to her lips, a horrible suspicion arrested
her hand; it was not, however, before she had swallowed a small
quantity of the milk. The look of Spalatro, which occasioned her
surprise, had accompanied the setting down of the breakfast, and it
occurred to her, that poison was infused in this liquid. She was thus
compelled to refuse the sustenance, which was become necessary to her,
for she feared to taste even of the oaten cake, since Spalatro had
offered it, but the little milk she had unwarily taken, was so very
small that she had no apprehension concerning it.
The day, however, was passed in terror, and almost in despondency;
she could neither doubt the purpose, for which she had been brought
hither, nor discover any possibility of escaping from her persecutors;
yet that propensity to hope, which buoys up the human heart, even in
the severest hours of trial, sustained, in some degree, her fainting
spirits.
During these miserable hours of solitude and suspense, the only
alleviation to her suffering arose from a belief, that Vivaldi was
safe, at least from danger, though not from grief; but she now
understood too much of the dexterous contrivances of the Marchesa, his
mother, to think it was practicable for him to escape from her designs,
and again restore her to liberty.
All day Ellena either leaned against the bars of her window, lost in
reverie, while her unconscious eyes were fixed upon the ocean, whose
murmurs she no longer heard; or she listened for some sound from
within the house, that might assist her conjectures, as to the number
of persons below, or what might be passing there. The house, however,
was profoundly still, except when now and then a footstep sauntered
along a distant passage, or a door was heard to close; but not the
hum of a single voice arose from the lower rooms, nor any symptom of
there being more than one person, beside herself, in the dwelling.
Though she had not heard her former guards depart, it appeared certain
that they were gone, and that she was left alone in this place with
Spalatro. What could be the purport of such a proceeding, Ellena could
not imagine; if her death was designed, it seemed strange that one
person only should be left to the hazard of the deed, when three must
have rendered the completion of it certain. But this surprise vanished,
when her suspicion of poison returned; for it was probable, that these
men had believed their scheme to be already nearly accomplished, and
had abandoned her to die alone, in a chamber from whence escape was
impracticable, leaving Spalatro to dispose of her remains. All the
incongruities she had separately observed in their conduct, seemed now
to harmonize and unite in one plan; and her death, designed by poison,
and that poison to be conveyed in the disguise of nourishment, appeared
to have been the object of it. Whether it was that the strength of this
conviction affected her fancy, or that the cause was real, Ellena,
remembering at this moment that she had tasted the milk, was seized
with an universal shuddering, and thought she felt that the poison had
been sufficiently potent to affect her, even in the inconsiderable
quantity she might have taken.
While she was thus agitated, she distinguished footsteps loitering near
her door, and attentively listening, became convinced, that some person
was in the corridor. The steps moved softly, sometimes stopping for an
instant, as if to allow time for listening, and soon after passed away.
"It is Spalatro!" said Ellena; "he believes that I have taken the
poison, and he comes to listen for my dying groans! Alas! he is only
come somewhat too soon, perhaps!"
As this horrible supposition occurred, the shuddering returned with
encreased violence, and she sunk, almost fainting, on the mattress;
but the fit was not of long continuance. When it gradually left her,
and recollection revived, she perceived, however, the prudence of
suffering Spalatro to suppose she had taken the beverage he brought
her, since such belief would at least procure some delay of further
schemes, and every delay afforded some possibility for hope to rest
upon. Ellena, therefore, poured through the bars of her window, the
milk, which she believed Spalatro had designed should be fatal in its
consequence.
It was evening, when she again fancied footsteps were lingering near
her door, and the suspicion was confirmed, when, on turning her eyes,
she perceived a shade on the floor, underneath it, as of some person
stationed without. Presently the shadow glided away, and at the same
time she distinguished departing steps treading cautiously.
"It is he!" said Ellena; "he still listens for my moans!"
This further confirmation of his designs affected her nearly as much as
the first; when anxiously turning her looks towards the corridor, the
shadow again appeared beneath the door, but she heard no step. Ellena
now watched it with intense solicitude and expectation; fearing every
instant that Spalatro would conclude her doubts by entering the room.
"And O! when he discovers that I live," thought she, "what may I not
expect during the first moments of his disappointment! What less than
immediate death!"
The shadow, after remaining a few minutes stationary, moved a little,
and then glided away as before. But it quickly returned, and a low
sound followed, as of some person endeavouring to unfasten bolts
without noise. Ellena heard one bar gently undrawn, and then another;
she observed the door begin to move, and then to give way, till it
gradually unclosed, and the face of Spalatro presented itself from
behind it. Without immediately entering, he threw a glance round the
chamber, as if he wished to ascertain some circumstance before he
ventured further. His look was more than usually haggard as it rested
upon Ellena, who apparently reposed on her mattress.
Having gazed at her for an instant, he ventured towards the bed with
quick and unequal steps; his countenance expressed at once impatience,
alarm, and the consciousness of guilt. When he was within a few
paces, Ellena raised herself, and he started back as if a sudden
spectre had crossed him. The more than usual wildness and wanness of
his looks, with the whole of his conduct, seemed to confirm all her
former terrors; and, when he roughly asked her how she did, Ellena had
not sufficient presence of mind to answer that she was ill. For some
moments, he regarded her with an earnest and sullen attention, and then
a sly glance of scrutiny, which he threw round the chamber, told her
that he was enquiring whether she had taken the poison. On perceiving
that the bason was empty, he lifted it from the floor, and Ellena
fancied a gleam of satisfaction passed over his visage.
"You have had no dinner," said he, "I forgot you; but supper will soon
be ready; and you may walk up the beach till then, if you will."
Ellena, extremely surprised and perplexed by this offer of a seeming
indulgence, knew not whether to accept or reject it. She suspected that
some treachery lurked within it. The invitation appeared to be only a
stratagem to lure her to destruction, and she determined to decline
accepting it; when again she considered, that to accomplish this, it
was not necessary to withdraw her from the chamber, where she was
already sufficiently in the power of her persecutors. Her situation
could not be more desperate than it was at present, and almost any
change might make it less so.
As she descended from the corridor, and passed through the lower part
of the house, no person appeared but her conductor; and she ventured
to enquire, whether the men who had brought her hither were departed.
Spalatro did not return an answer, but led the way in silence to the
court, and, having passed the gates, he pointed toward the west, and
said she might walk that way.
Ellena bent her course towards the "many-sounding waves," followed
at a short distance by Spalatro, and, wrapt in thought, pursued the
windings of the shore, scarcely noticing the objects around her; till,
on passing the foot of a rock, she lifted her eyes to the scene that
unfolded beyond, and observed some huts scattered at a considerable
distance, apparently the residence of fishermen. She could just
distinguish the dark sails of some skiffs turning the cliffs, and
entering the little bay, where the hamlet margined the beach; but,
though she saw the sails lowered, as the boats approached the shore,
they were too far off to allow the figures of the men to appear. To
Ellena, who had believed that no human habitation, except her prison,
interrupted the vast solitudes of these forests and shores, the view
of the huts, remote as they were, imparted a feeble hope, and even
somewhat of joy. She looked back, to observe whether Spalatro was
near; he was already within a few paces; and, casting a wistful glance
forward to the remote cottages, her heart sunk again.
It was a lowering evening, and the sea was dark and swelling; the
screams of the sea-birds too, as they wheeled among the clouds, and
sought their high nests in the rocks, seemed to indicate an approaching
storm. Ellena was not so wholly engaged by selfish sufferings, but that
she could sympathise with those of others, and she rejoiced that the
fishermen, whole boats she had observed, had escaped the threatening
tempest, and were safely sheltered in their little homes, where, as
they heard the loud waves break along the coast, they could look with
keener pleasure upon the social circle, and the warm comforts around
them. From such considerations however, she returned again to a sense
of her own forlorn and friendless situation.
"Alas!" said she, "I have no longer a home, a circle to smile welcomes
upon me! I have no longer even one friend to support, to rescue me!
I--a miserable wanderer on a distant shore! tracked, perhaps, by the
footsteps of the assassin, who at this instant eyes his victim with
silent watchfulness, and awaits the moment of opportunity to sacrifice
her!"
Ellena shuddered as she said this, and turned again to observe whether
Spalatro was near. He was not within view; and, while she wondered, and
congratulated herself on a possibility of escaping, she perceived a
Monk walking silently beneath the dark rocks that overbrowed the beach.
His black garments were folded round him; his face was inclined towards
the ground, and he had the air of a man in deep meditation.
"His, no doubt, are worthy musings!" said Ellena, as she observed him,
with mingled hope and surprise. "I may address myself, without fear,
to one of his order. It is probably as much his wish, as it is his
duty, to succour the unfortunate. Who could have hoped to find on this
sequestered shore so sacred a protector! his convent cannot be fair
off."
He approached, his face still bent towards the ground, and Ellena
advanced slowly, and with trembling steps, to meet him. As he drew
near, he viewed her askance, without lifting his head; but she
perceived his large eyes looking from under the shade of his cowl,
and the upper part of his peculiar countenance. Her confidence in
his protection began to fail, and she faultered, unable to speak, and
scarcely daring to meet his eyes. The Monk stalked past her in silence,
the lower part of his visage still muffled in his drapery, and as he
passed her looked neither with curiosity, nor surprise.
Ellena paused, and determined, when he should be at some distance, to
endeavour to make her way to the hamlet, and throw herself upon the
humanity of it's inhabitants, rather than solicit the pity of this
forbidding stranger. But in the next moment she heard a step behind
her, and, on turning, saw the Monk again approaching. He stalked by
as before, surveying her, however, with a sly and scrutinizing glance
from the corners of his eyes. His air and countenance were equally
repulsive, and still Ellena could not summon courage enough to attempt
engaging his compassion; but shrunk as from an enemy. There was
something also terrific in the silent stalk of so gigantic a form;
it announced both power and treachery. He passed slowly on to some
distance, and disappeared among the rocks.
Ellena turned once more with an intention of hastening towards the
distant hamlet, before Spalatro should observe her, whose strange
absence she had scarcely time to wonder at; but she had not proceeded
far, when suddenly she perceived the Monk again at her shoulder. She
started, and almost shrieked; while he regarded her with more attention
than before. He paused a moment, and seemed to hesitate; after which he
again passed on in silence. The distress of Ellena encreased; he was
gone the way she had designed to run, and she feared almost equally
to follow him, and to return to her prison. Presently he turned, and
passed her again, and Ellena hastened forward. But, when fearful of
being pursued, she again looked back, she observed him conversing
with Spalatro. They appeared to be in consultation, while they slowly
advanced, till, probably observing her rapid progress, Spalatro called
on her to stop, in a voice that echoed among all the rocks. It was a
voice, which would not be disobeyed. She looked hopelessly at the still
distant cottages, and slackened her steps. Presently the Monk again
passed before her, and Spalatro had again disappeared. The frown, with
which the former now regarded Ellena, was so terrific, that she shrunk
trembling back, though she knew him not for her persecutor, since she
had never consciously seen Schedoni. He was agitated, and his look
became darker.
"Whither go you?" said he in a voice that was stifled by emotion.
"Who is it, father, that asks the question?" said Ellena, endeavouring
to appear composed.
"Whither go you, and who are you?" repeated the Monk more sternly.
"I am an unhappy orphan," replied Ellena, sighing deeply, "If you are,
as your habit denotes, a friend to the charities, you will regard me
with compassion."
Schedoni was silent, and then said--"Who, and what is it that you fear?"
"I fear--even for my life," replied Ellena, with hesitation. She
observed a darker shade pass over his countenance. "For your life!"
said he, with apparent surprise, "who is there that would think it
worth the taking."
Ellena was struck with these words.
"Poor insect!" added Schedoni, "who would crush thee?"
Ellena made no reply; she remained with her eyes fixed in amazement
upon his face. There was something in his manner of pronouncing this,
yet more extraordinary than in the words themselves. Alarmed by his
manner, and awed by the encreasing gloom, and swelling surge, that
broke in thunder on the beach, she at length turned away, and again
walked towards the hamlet which was yet very remote.
He soon overtook her; when rudely seizing her arm, and gazing earnestly
on her face, "Who is it, that you fear?" said he, "say who!"
"That is more than I dare say," replied Ellena, scarcely able to
sustain herself.
"Hah! is it even so!" said the Monk, with encreasing emotion. His
visage now became so terrible, that Ellena struggled to liberate her
arm, and supplicated that he would not detain her. He was silent, and
still gazed upon her, but his eyes, when she had ceased to struggle,
assumed the fixt and vacant glare of a man, whose thoughts have retired
within themselves, and who is no longer conscious to surrounding
objects.
"I beseech you to release me!" repeated Ellena, "it is late, and I am
far from home."
"That is true," muttered Schedoni, still grasping her arm, and seeming
to reply to his own thoughts rather than to her words,--"that is very
true."
"The evening is closing fast," continued Ellena, "and I shall be
overtaken by the storm."
Schedoni still mused, and then muttered--"The storm, say you? Why ay,
let it come."
As he spake, he suffered her arm to drop, but still held it, and walked
slowly towards the house. Ellena, thus compelled to accompany him, and
yet more alarmed both by his looks, his incoherent answers, and his
approach to her prison, renewed her supplications and her efforts for
liberty, in a voice of piercing distress, adding, "I am far from home,
father; night is coming on. See how the rocks darken! I am far from
home, and shall be waited for."
"That is false!" said Schedoni, with emphasis; "and you know it to be
so."
"Alas! I do," replied Ellena, with mingled shame and grief, "I have no
friends to wait for me!"
"What do those deserve, who deliberately utter falsehoods," continued
the Monk, "who deceive, and flatter young men to their destruction?"
"Father!" exclaimed the astonished Ellena.
"Who disturb the peace of families--who trepan, with wanton arts, the
heirs of noble houses--who--hah! what do such deserve?"
Overcome with astonishment and terror, Ellena remained silent. She
now understood that Schedoni, so far from being likely to prove a
protector, was an agent of her worst, and as she had believed, her only
enemy; and an apprehension of the immediate and terrible vengeance,
which such an agent seemed willing to accomplish, subdued her senses;
she tottered, and sunk upon the beach. The weight, which strained the
arm Schedoni held, called his attention to her situation.
As he gazed upon her helpless and faded form, he became agitated. He
quitted it, and traversed the beach in short turns, and with hasty
steps; came back again, and bent over it--his heart seemed sensible
to some touch of pity. At one moment, he stepped towards the sea, and
taking water in the hollows of his hands, threw it upon her face; at
another, seeming to regret that he had done so, he would stamp with
sudden fury upon the shore, and walk abruptly to a distance. The
conflict between his design and his conscience was strong, or, perhaps,
it was only between his passions. He, who had hitherto been insensible
to every tender feeling, who, governed by ambition and resentment
had contributed, by his artful instigations, to fix the baleful
resolution of the Marchesa di Vivaldi, and who was come to execute her
purpose,--even he could not now look upon the innocent, the wretched
Ellena, without yielding to the momentary weakness, as he termed it, of
compassion.
While he was yet unable to baffle the new emotion by evil passions,
he despised that which conquered him. "And shall the weakness of a
girl," said he, "subdue the resolution of a man! Shall the view of her
transient sufferings unnerve my firm heart, and compel me to renounce
the lofty plans I have so ardently, so laboriously imagined, at the
very instant when they are changing into realities! Am I awake! Is
one spark of the fire, which has so long smouldered within my bosom,
and consumed my peace, alive! Or am I tame and abject as my fortunes?
hah! as my fortunes! Shall the spirit of my family yield for ever to
circumstances? The question rouses it, and I feel it's energy revive
within me."
He stalked with hasty steps towards Ellena, as if he feared to trust
his resolution with a second pause. He had a dagger concealed
beneath his Monk's habit; as he had also an assassin's heart shrouded
by his garments. He had a dagger--but he hesitated to use it, the
blood which it might spill, would be observed by the peasants of the
neighbouring hamlet, and might lead to a discovery. It would be safer,
he considered, and easier, to lay Ellena, senseless as she was, in
the waves; their coldness would recal her to life, only at the moment
before they would suffocate her.
As he stooped to lift her, his resolution faultered again, on beholding
her innocent face, and in that moment she moved. He started back, as if
she could have known his purpose, and, knowing it, could have avenged
herself. The water, which he had thrown upon her face, had gradually
revived her; she unclosed her eyes, and, on perceiving him, shrieked,
and attempted to rise. His resolution was subdued, so tremblingly
fearful is guilt in the moment when it would execute it's atrocities.
Overcome with apprehensions, yet agitated with shame and indignation
against himself for being so, he gazed at her for an instant in
silence, and then abruptly turned away his eyes and left her. Ellena
listened to his departing steps, and, raising herself, observed him
retiring among the rocks that led towards the house. Astonished at his
conduct, and surprised to find that she was alone, Ellena renewed all
her efforts to sustain herself, till she should reach the hamlet so
long the object of her hopes; but she had proceeded only a few paces,
when Spalatro again appeared swiftly approaching. Her utmost exertion
availed her nothing; her feeble steps were soon overtaken, and Ellena
perceived herself again his prisoner. The look with which she resigned
herself, awakened no pity in Spalatro, who uttered some taunting jest
upon the swiftness of her flight, as he led her back to her prison,
and proceeded in sullen watchfulness. Once again, then, she entered
the gloomy walls of that fatal mansion, never more, she now believed,
to quit them with life, a belief, which was strengthened when she
remembered that the Monk, on leaving her, had taken the way hither;
for, though she knew not how to account for his late forbearance, she
could not suppose that he would long be merciful. He appeared no more,
however, as she passed to her chamber, where Spalatro left her again to
solitude and terror, and she heard that fateful door again barred upon
her. When his retreating steps had ceased to sound, a stilness, as of
the grave, prevailed in the house; like the dead calm, which sometimes
precedes the horrors of a tempest.