Auriol; or, The Elixir of Life

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  CHAPTER II

  THE MARCHESA

  Une chose tenebreuse fait par des hommes tenebreux.

  --_Lucrece Borgia._

  On the same night I bent my steps towards the Colosseum; and, full of myadventure of the morning, found myself, not without apprehension,involved within its labyrinthine passages. Accompanied by a monk, who,with a small horn lantern in his hand, acted as my guide, I fanciedthat, by its uncertain light, I could discover stealthy figures lurkingwithin the shades of the ruin.

  Whatever suspicions I might entertain, I pursued my course in silence.Emerging from the _vomitorio_, we stood upon the steps of the colossalamphitheatre. The huge pile was bathed in rosy moonlight, and reareditself in serene majesty before my view.

  While indulging in a thousand speculations, occasioned by the hour andthe spot, I suddenly perceived a figure on a point of the ruinimmediately above me. Nothing but the head was visible; but that wasplaced in bold relief against the beaming sky of night, and I recognisedit at once. No nobler Roman head had ever graced the circus when Romewas in her zenith. I shouted to the old Calabrian, for he it was Ibeheld. Almost ere the sound had left my lips, he had disappeared. Imade known what I had seen to the monk. He was alarmed--urged ourinstant departure, and advised me to seek the assistance of the sentinelstationed at the entrance to the pile. To this proposal I assented; and,having descended the vasty steps and crossed the open arena, we arrived,without molestation, at the doorway.

  The sentinel had allowed no one to pass him. He returned with me to thecircus; and, after an ineffectual search amongst the ruins, volunteeredhis services to accompany me homewards through the Forum. I declined hisoffer, and shaped my course towards a lonesome _vicolo_ on the right.This was courting danger; but I cared not, and walked slowly forwardthrough the deserted place.

  Scarcely had I proceeded many paces, when I heard footsteps swiftlyapproaching; and, ere I could turn round, my arms were seized frombehind, and a bandage was passed across my eyes. All my efforts atliberation were unavailing; and, after a brief struggle, I remainedpassive.

  "Make no noise," said a voice which I knew to be that of the old man,"and no harm shall befall you. You must come with us. Ask no questions,but follow."

  I suffered myself to be led, without further opposition, whithersoeverthey listed. We walked for it might be half-an-hour, much beyond thewalls of Rome. I had to scramble through many ruins, and frequentlystumbled over inequalities of ground. I now felt the fresh breeze ofnight blowing over the wide campagna, and my conductors moved swiftlyonwards as we trod on its elastic turf.

  At length they came to a halt. My bandage was removed, and I beheldmyself beneath the arch of an aqueduct, which spanned the moonlit plain.A fire was kindled beneath the arch, and the ruddy flame licked itswalls. Around the blaze were grouped the little band of peasantry I hadbeheld within the church, in various and picturesque attitudes. Theygreeted my conductors on their arrival, and glanced inquisitively at me,but did not speak to me. The elder Calabrian, whom they addressed asCristofano, asked for a glass of _aqua vitae_, which he handedrespectfully to me. I declined the offer, but he pressed it upon me.

  "You will need it, signor," he said; "you have much to do to-night. Youfear, perhaps, it is drugged. Behold!" And he drank it off.

  I could not, after this, refuse his pledge. "And now, signor," said theold man, removing to a little distance from the group, "may I crave aword with you--your name?"

  As I had no reason for withholding it, I told him how I was called.

  "Hum! Had you no relation of the name of ----?"

  "None whatever." And I sighed, for I thought of my desolate condition.

  "Strange!" he muttered; adding, with a grim smile, "but, however,likenesses are easily accounted for."

  "What likenesses?" I asked. "Whom do I resemble? and what is the motiveof your inexplicable conduct?"

  "You shall hear," he replied, frowning gloomily. "Step aside, and let usget within the shade of these arches, out of the reach of yonderlisteners. The tale I have to tell is for your ears alone."

  I obeyed him; and we stood beneath the shadow of the aqueduct.

  "Years ago," began the old man, "an Englishman, in all respectsresembling yourself, equally well favoured in person, and equally young,came to Rome, and took up his abode within the eternal city. He was ofhigh rank in his own country, and was treated with the distinction dueto his exalted station here. At that time I dwelt with the Marchesedi ----. I was his confidential servant--his adviser--his friend. I hadlived with his father--carried him as an infant--sported with him as aboy--loved and served him as a man. Loved him, I say; for, despite histreatment of me, I loved him then as much as I abhor him now. Well,signor, to my story. If his youth had been profligate, his manhood wasnot less depraved; it was devoted to cold, calculating libertinism. Soonafter he succeeded to the estates and title of his father, he married.That he loved his bride, I can scarcely believe; for, though he waswildly jealous of her, he was himself unfaithful, and she knew it. InItaly, revenge, in such cases, is easily within a woman's power; and,for aught I know, the marchesa might have meditated retaliation. Mylord, however, took the alarm, and thought fit to retire to his villawithout the city, and for a time remained secluded within its walls. Itwas at this crisis that the Englishman I have before mentioned arrivedin Rome. My lady, who mingled little with the gaieties of the city, hadnot beheld him; but she could not have been unacquainted with him byreport, as every tongue was loud in his praises. A rumour of hissuccesses with other dames had reached my lord; nay, I have reason tobelieve that he had been thwarted by the handsome Englishman in someother quarter, and he sedulously prevented their meeting. An interview,however, _did_ take place between them, and in an unexpected manner. Itwas the custom then, as now, upon particular occasions, to drive, duringthe heats of summer, within the Piazza Navona, which is flooded withwater. One evening the marchesa drove thither: she was unattended,except by myself. Our carriage happened to be stationed near that of theyoung Englishman."

  "The marchesa was beautiful, no doubt?" I said, interrupting him.

  "Most beautiful!" he replied; "and so your countryman seemed to think,for he was lost in admiration of her. I am not much versed in thelanguage of the eyes, but his were too eloquent and expressive not to beunderstood. I watched my mistress narrowly. It was evident from herglowing cheek, though her eyes were cast down, that she was notinsensible to his regards. She turned to play with her dog, a lovelylittle greyhound, which was in the carriage beside her, and patted itcarelessly with the glove which she held in her hand. The animalsnatched the glove from her grasp, and, as he bounded backwards, fellover the carriage side. My lady uttered a scream at the sight, and I waspreparing to extricate the struggling dog, when the Englishman plungedinto the water. In an instant he had restored her favourite to themarchesa, and received her warmest acknowledgments. From that moment anintimacy commenced, which was destined to produce the most fatalconsequences to both parties."

  "Did you betray them?" I asked, somewhat impatiently.

  "I was then the blind tool of the marchese. I did so," replied the oldman. "I told him all particulars of the interview. He heard me insilence, but grew ashy pale with suppressed rage. Bidding me redouble myvigilance, he left me. My lady was now scarcely ever out of my sight;when one evening, a few days after what had occurred, she walked forthalone upon the garden-terrace of the villa. Her guitar was in her hand,and her favourite dog by her side. I was at a little distance, butwholly unperceived. She struck a few plaintive chords upon herinstrument, and then, resting her chin upon her white and rounded arm,seemed lost in tender reverie. Would you had seen her, signor, as Ibeheld her then, or as one other beheld her! you would acknowledge thatyou had never met with her equal in beauty. Her raven hair fell in thicktresses over shoulders of dazzling whiteness and the most perfectproportion. Her deep dark eyes were thrown languidly on the ground, andher radiant features were charged with an expression of profound andpensiv
e passion.

  "In this musing attitude she continued for some minutes, when she wasaroused by the gambols of her dog, who bore in his mouth a glove whichhe had found. As she took it from him, a letter dropped upon the floor.Had a serpent glided from its folds, it could not have startled hermore. She gazed upon the paper, offended, but irresolute. Yes, she was_irresolute_; and you may conjecture the rest. She paused, and by thatpause was lost. With a shrinking grasp she stooped to raise the letter.Her cheeks, which had grown deathly pale, again kindled with blushes asshe perused it. She hesitated--cast a bewildering look towards themansion--placed the note within her bosom--and plunged into theorange-bower."

  "Her lover awaited her there?"

  "He did. I saw them meet. I heard his frenzied words--his passionateentreaties. He urged her to fly--she resisted. He grew more urgent--moreimpassioned. She uttered a faint cry, and I stood before them. TheEnglishman's hand was at my throat, and his sword at my breast, with theswiftness of thought; and but for the screams of my mistress, thatinstant must have been my last. At her desire he relinquished his holdof me; but her cries had reached other ears, and the marchese arrived toavenge his injured honour. He paused not to inquire the nature of theoffence, but, sword in hand, assailed the Englishman, bidding me removehis lady. The clash of their steel was drowned by her shrieks as I boreher away; but I knew the strife was desperate. Before I gained the housemy lady had fainted; and committing her to the charge of otherattendants, I returned to the terrace. I met my master slowly walkinghomewards. His sword was gone--his brow was bent--he shunned my sight. Iknew what had happened, and did not approach him. He sought his wife.What passed in that interview was never disclosed, but it may be guessedat from its result. That night the marchesa left her husband'shalls--never to return. Next morn I visited the terrace where she hadreceived the token. The glove was still upon the ground. I picked it upand carried it to the marchese, detailing the whole occurrence to him.He took it, and vowed as he took it that his vengeance should never restsatisfied till that glove had been steeped in her blood."

  "And he kept his vow?" I asked, shuddering.

  "Many months elapsed ere its accomplishment. Italian vengeance is slow,but sure. To all outward appearance, he had forgotten his faithlesswife. He had even formed a friendship with her lover, which he did themore effectually to blind his ultimate designs. Meanwhile, time rolledon, and the marchesa gave birth to a child--the offspring of herseducer."

  "Great God!" I exclaimed, "was that child a boy?"

  "It was--but listen to me. My tale draws to a close. One night, duringthe absence of the Englishman, by secret means we entered the palazzowhere the marchesa resided. We wandered from room to room till we cameto her chamber. She was sleeping, with her infant by her side. The sightmaddened the marchese. He would have stricken the child, but I held backhis hand. He relented. He bade me make fast the door. He approached thebed. I heard a rustle--a scream. A white figure sprang from out thecouch. In an instant the light was extinguished--there was ablow--another--and all was over. I threw open the door. The marchesecame forth. The corridor in which we stood was flooded with moonlight. Aglove was in his hand--it was dripping with blood. His oath wasfulfilled--his vengeance complete--no, not complete, for the Englishmanyet lived."

  "What became of him?" I inquired.

  "Ask me not," replied the old man; "you were at the Chiesa Santa MariaMaggiore this morning. If those stones could speak, they might tell afearful story."

  "And that was the reason you did not dare to unclose your eyes withinthose holy precincts?--a film of blood floated between you and heaven."

  The old man shuddered, but replied not.

  "And the child?" I asked, after a pause; "what of their wretchedoffspring?"

  "It was conveyed to England by a friend of its dead father. If he werealive, that boy would be about your age, signor."

  "Indeed!" I said; a horrible suspicion flashing across my mind.

  "After the Englishman's death," continued Cristofano, "my master beganto treat me with a coldness and suspicion which increased daily. I was aburden to him, and he was resolved to rid himself of me. I spared himthe trouble--quitted Rome--sought the mountains of the Abruzzi--andthence wandered to the fastnesses of Calabria, and became--no matterwhat. Here I am. Heaven's appointed minister of vengeance. The marchesedies to-night!"

  "To-night! old man," I echoed, horror-stricken. "Add not crime to crime.If he has indeed been guilty of the foul offence you have named, let himbe dealt with according to the offended laws of the country. Do notpervert the purposes of justice."

  "Justice!" echoed Cristofano scornfully.

  "Ay, justice. You are poor and powerless, but means may be found to aidyou. I will assist the rightful course of vengeance."

  "You _shall_ assist it. I have sworn he shall die before dawn, and thehand to strike the blow shall be yours."

  "Mine! never!"

  "Your own life will be the penalty of your obstinacy, if you refuse; norwill your refusal save him. By the Mother of Heaven, he dies! and byyour hand. You saw how he was struck by your resemblance to the youngEnglishman this morning in the chiesa. It is wonderful! I know not whoor what you are; but to me you are an instrument of vengeance, and assuch I shall use you. The blow dealt by you will seem the work ofretribution; and I care not if you strike twice, and make my heart yoursecond mark."

  Ere I could reply he called to his comrades, and in a few moments wewere speeding across the campagna.

  We arrived at a high wall:--the old man conducted us to a postern-gate,which he opened. We entered a garden filled with orange-trees, theperfume of which loaded the midnight air. We heard the splash of afountain at a distance, and the thrilling notes of a nightingale amongstsome taller trees. The moon hung like a lamp over the belvidere of theproud villa. We strode along a wide terrace edged by a marblebalustrade. The old man pointed to an open summer-house terminating thewalk, and gave me a significant look, but he spoke not. A window thrownopen admitted us to the house. We were within a hall crowded withstatues, and traversed noiselessly its marble floors. Passing throughseveral chambers, we then mounted to a corridor, and entered anapartment which formed the ante-room to another beyond it. Placing hisfinger upon his lips, and making a sign to his comrades, Cristofanoopened a door and disappeared. There was a breathless pause for a fewminutes, during which I listened intently, but caught only a faint soundas of the snapping of a lock.

  Presently the old man returned.

  "He sleeps," he said, in a low deep tone to me; "sleeps as his victimslept--sleeps without a dream of remorse; and he shall awaken, as sheawoke, to despair. Come into his chamber!"

  We obeyed. The door was made fast within side.

  The curtains of the couch were withdrawn, and the moonlight streamedfull upon the face of the sleeper. He was hushed in profound repose. Novisions seemed to haunt his peaceful slumbers. Could guilt sleep sosoundly? I half doubted the old man's story.

  Placing us within the shadow of the canopy, Cristofano approached thebed. A stiletto glittered in his hand. "Awake!" he cried, in a voice ofthunder.

  The sleeper started at the summons.

  I watched his countenance. He read Cristofano's errand in his eye. Buthe quailed not.

  "Cowardly assassin!" he cried, "you have well consulted your own safetyin stealing on my sleep."

  "And who taught me the lesson?" fiercely interrupted the old man. "Am Ithe first that have stolen on midnight slumber? Gaze upon this? When andhow did it acquire its dye?" And he held forth a glove, which lookedblackened and stained in the moonlight.

  The marchese groaned aloud.

  "My cabinet broken open!" at length he exclaimed--"villain! how dare youdo this? But why do I rave? I know with whom I have to deal." Utteringthese words he sprung from his couch with the intention of grapplingwith the old man; but Cristofano retreated, and at that instant thebrigands, who rushed to his aid, thrust me forward. I was face to facewith the marchese.

  The apparition
of the murdered man could not have staggered him more.His limbs were stiffened by the shock, and he remained in an attitude offreezing terror.

  "Is he come for vengeance?" he ejaculated.

  "He is!" cried Cristofano. "Give him the weapon!"

  And a stiletto was thrust into my hand. But I heeded not the steel. Itore open my bosom--a small diamond cross was within the folds.

  "Do you recollect this?" I demanded of the marchese.

  "It was my wife's!" he shrieked in amazement.

  "It was upon the infant's bosom as he slept by her side on that fatalnight," said Cristofano. "I saw it sparkle there."

  "That infant was myself--that wife my mother!" I cried.

  "The murderer stands before you! Strike!" exclaimed Cristofano.

  I raised the dagger. The marchese stirred not. I could not strike.

  "Do you hesitate?" angrily exclaimed Cristofano.

  "He has not the courage," returned the younger Calabrian. "Youreproached me this morning with want of filial duty. Behold how a soncan avenge his father!" And he plunged his stiletto within the bosom ofthe marchese.

  "_Your_ father is not yet avenged, young man!" cried Cristofano, in aterrible tone. "You alone can avenge him!"

  Ere I could withdraw its point the old man had rushed upon the daggerwhich I held extended in my grasp.

  He fell without a single groan.

  THE END