“It was about six weeks before my flight that I went into the forest to gather wood. I was in the midst of my occupation, gayly thrilling a native song, when the sound of a horse’s feet upon the hard soil of the beaten path suddenly interrupted me. I turned around, seeing a cavalier of strikingly handsome countenance—though somewhat stern withal, and of noble mien. He was in reality forty-four years of age—as I afterward learnt; but he seemed scarcely forty, so light did time sit upon his brow. His dress was elegant, though of some strange fashion; for it was Italian costume that he wore. The moment he was close to the spot where I stood he considered me for a short while, till I felt my cheeks glowing beneath his ardent gaze. I cast down my eyes; and the next instant he had leapt from his horse and was by my side. He addressed me in gentle terms; and when again I looked at him his countenance no more seemed stern. It appeared that he was staying with the Baron von Nauemberg, with whom he had been out hunting in the Black Forest, and from whom and his suite he was separated in the ardor of the chase. Being a total stranger in those parts, he had lost his way. I immediately described to him the proper path for him to pursue; and he offered me gold as a recompense. I declined the guerdon; and he questioned me concerning my family and my position. I told him that I lived hard-by, with an only relative—a grandsire, to whom I was devotedly attached. He lingered long in conversation with me; and his manner was so kind, so condescending, and so respectful, that I thought not I was doing wrong to listen to him. At length he requested me to be on the same spot at the same hour on the morrow; and he departed.
“I was struck by his appearance—dazzled by the brilliancy of his discourse; for he spoke German fluently, although an Italian. He had made a deep impression on my mind; and I felt a secret longing to meet him again. Suddenly it occurred to me that I was acting with impropriety, and that you would be angry with me. I therefore resolved not to mention to you my accidental encounter with the handsome cavalier; but I determined at the same time not to repair to the forest next day. When the appointed hour drew near, my good genius deserted me; and I went. He was there, and he seemed pleased at my punctuality. I need not detail to you the nature of the discourse which he held toward me. Suffice it to say, that he declared how much he had been struck with my beauty, and how fondly he would love me; and he dazzled me still more by revealing his haughty name; and I found that I was beloved by the Count of Riverola.
“You can understand how a poor girl, who had hitherto dwelt in the seclusion of a cottage on the border of a vast wood, and who seldom saw any person of higher rank than herself, was likely to be dazzled by the fine things which that great nobleman breathed in her ear.
“And I was dazzled—flattered—excited—bewildered. I consented to meet him again: interview followed interview, until I no longer required any persuasion to induce me to keep the appointments thus given. But there were times when my conscience reproached me for conduct which I knew you would blame; and yet I dared not unburden my soul to you!
“Six weeks thus passed away; I was still innocent—but madly in love with the Count of Riverola. He was the subject of my thoughts by day—of my dreams by night; and I felt that I could make any sacrifice to retain his affection. That sacrifice was too soon demanded! At the expiration of the six weeks he informed me that on the following day he must return to Italy, whither important affairs called him sooner than he had anticipated. He urged me to accompany him; I was bewildered—maddened by the contemplation of my duty on the one hand, of my love on the other. My guardian saint deserted me; I yielded to the persuasion of the count—I became guilty—and there was now no alternative save to fly with him!
“Oh! believe me when I declare that this decision cost me a dreadful pang; but the count would not leave me time for reflection. He bore me away on his fleet steed, and halted not until the tall towers of Nauemberg Castle appeared in the distance. Then he stopped at a poor peasant’s cottage, where his gold insured me a welcome reception. Having communicated the plan which he proposed to adopt respecting our journey to Florence, he took an affectionate leave of me, with a promise to return on the ensuing morning. The remainder of the day was passed wretchedly enough by me; and I already began to repent of the step I had taken. The peasants who occupied the cottage vainly endeavored to cheer me; my heart was too full to admit of consolation. Night came at length, and I retired to rest; but my dreams were of so unpleasant a nature—so filled with frightful images—that never did I welcome the dawn with more enthusiastic joy. Shortly after daybreak the count appeared at the cottage, attended by one of his numerous suite—a faithful attendant on whom he could rely implicitly. They were mounted on good steeds; and Antonio—such was the name of the servitor—led a third by the bridle. This one the count had purchased at an adjacent hamlet, expressly for my use. He had also procured a page’s attire; for in such disguise was it agreed that I should accompany the count to Italy.
“I should observe that the nobleman, in order to screen our amour as much as possible, had set out from Nauemberg Castle, attended by Antonio alone, alleging as an excuse that certain affairs compelled him to travel homeward with as much celerity as possible. The remainder of his suit were therefore ordered to follow at their leisure.
“Oh! with what agonizing emotion did my heart beat, as, in a private chamber of the cottage, I laid aside my peasant’s garb and donned the doublet, hose, cap and cloak of a youthful page. I thought of you—of your helplessness—your age,—and also of my native land, which I was about to quit—perhaps forever! Still I had gone too far to retreat, and regrets were useless. I must also confess that when I returned to the room where the count was waiting for me, and heard the flattering compliments which he paid me on my appearance in that disguise, I smiled—yes, I smiled, and much of my remorse vanished!
“We set out upon our journey toward the Alps; and the count exerted all his powers of conversation to chase away from my mind any regrets or repinings that might linger there. Though cold and stern—forbidding and reserved—haughty and austere in his bearing toward others, to me he was affectionate and tender. To be brief, yet with sorrow must I confess it, at the expiration of a few days I could bear to think, without weeping, of the fond relative whom I had left behind in the cottage of the Black Forest!
“We crossed the Alps in safety, but not without experiencing much peril; and in a short time glorious Italy spread itself out at our feet. The conversation of the count had already prepared me to admire——”
At this moment, Agnes’ narrative was interrupted by a piercing shriek which burst from her lips; and extending her arms toward the window of the apartment, she screamed hysterically, “Again that countenance!” and fell back on the ottoman.
CHAPTER IX.
CONCLUSION OF THE HISTORY OF AGNES.
In order that the reader may understand how Agnes could perceive any object outside the window, in the intense darkness of that tempestuous night—or rather morning, for it was now past one o’clock—we must observe that not only was the apartment in which Wagner and herself were seated brilliantly lighted by the silver lamps, but that, according to Florentine custom, there were also lamps suspended outside to the veranda, or large balcony belonging to the casements of the room above.
Agnes and Wagner were, moreover, placed near the window which looked into a large garden attached to the mansion; and thus it was easy for the lady, whose eyes happened to be fixed upon the casement in the earnest interest with which she was relating her narrative, to perceive the human countenance that appeared at one of the panes.
The moment her history was interrupted by the ejaculation of alarm that broke from her lips, Wagner started up and hastened to the window; but he could see nothing save the waving evergreens in his garden, and the light of a mansion which stood at a distance of about two hundred yards from his own abode.
He was about to open the casement and step into the garden, when Agnes caught him by the arm, exclaiming wildly, “Leave me not—I could not—I cou
ld not bear to remain alone!”
“No, I will not quit you, Agnes,” replied Wagner, conducting her back to the sofa and resuming his seat by her side. “But wherefore that ejaculation of alarm? Whose countenance did you behold? Speak, dearest Agnes!”
“I will hasten to explain the cause of my terror,” retorted Agnes, becoming more composed. “Ere now I was about to detail the particulars of my journey to Florence, in company with the Count of Riverola, and attended by Antonio; but as those particulars are of no material interest, I will at once pass on to the period when we arrived in this city.”
“But the countenance at the window?” said Wagner, somewhat impatiently.
“Listen—and you will soon know all,” replied Agnes. “It was in the evening when I entered Florence for the first time. Antonio had proceeded in advance to inform his mother—a widow who resided in a decent house, but in an obscure street near the cathedral—that she was speedily to receive a young lady as a guest. This young lady was myself; and accordingly, when the count assisted me to alight from my horse at the gate of Dame Margaretha’s abode, the good widow had everything in readiness for my reception. The count conversed with her apart for a few minutes; and I observed that he also placed a heavy purse in her hand—doubtless to insure her secrecy relative to the amour, with the existence of which he was of course compelled to acquaint her. Having seen me comfortably installed in Dame Margaretha’s best apartment, he quitted me, with a promise to return on the morrow.”
Agnes paused for a few moments, sighed, and continued her narrative in the following manner:
“Fortunately for me, Dame Margaretha was a German woman, who had married an Italian, otherwise my condition would have been wretched in the extreme. She treated me with great kindness, mingled with respect; for though but a poor peasant girl, I was beloved and protected by one of the most powerful nobles of Florence. I retired early to rest:—sleep did not, however, immediately visit my eyes! Oh! no—I was in Florence, but my thoughts were far away in my native Germany, and on the borders of the Black Forest. At length I fell into an uneasy slumber, and when I awoke the sun was shining through the lattice. I arose and dressed myself, and to my ineffable delight found that I was no longer to wear the garb of a page. That disguise had been removed while I slept, and in its place were costly vestments, which I donned with a pleasure that triumphed over the gloom of my soul. In the course of the morning rich furniture was brought to the house, and in a few hours the apartments allotted to me were converted, in my estimation, into a little paradise. The count arrived soon afterward, and I now—pardon me the neglect and ingratitude which my words confess—I now felt very happy. The noble Andrea enjoined me to go abroad but seldom, and never without being accompanied by Dame Margaretha; he also besought me not to appear to recognize him should I chance to meet him in public at any time, nor to form acquaintances; in a word, to live retired and secluded as possible, alike for his sake and my own. I promised compliance with all he suggested, and he declared in return that he would never cease to love me.”
“Dwell not upon details, Agnes,” said Wagner; “for, although I am deeply interested in your narrative, my curiosity is strangely excited to learn the meaning of that terror which overcame you ere now.”
“I will confine myself to material facts as much as possible,” returned Agnes. “Time glided rapidly away;—months flew by, and with sorrow and shame must I confess that the memories of the past, the memories of the bright, happy days of my innocence intruded but little on the life which I led. For, though he was so much older than I, yet I loved the Count of Riverola devotedly. Oh! Heaven knows how devotedly! His conversation delighted, fascinated me; and he seemed to experience a pleasure in imparting to me the extensive knowledge which he had acquired. To me he unbent as, doubtless, to human being he never unbent before; in my presence his sternness, his somber moods, his gloomy thoughts vanished. It was evident that he had much preying upon his mind; and perhaps he loved me thus fondly because—by some unaccountable whim or caprice, or strange influence—he found solace in my society. The presents which he heaped upon me, but which have been nearly all snatched from me, were of immense value; and when I remonstrated with him on account of a liberality so useless to one whom he allowed to want for nothing, he would reply, ‘But remember, Agnes, when I shall be no more, riches will constitute your best friend, your safest protection; for such is the order of things in this world.’ He generally spent two hours with me every day, and frequently visited me again in the evening. Thus did time pass; and at length I come to that incident which will explain the terror I ere now experienced.”
Agnes cast a hasty glance toward the window, as if to assure herself that the object of her fears was no longer there; and, satisfied on this head, she proceeded in the following manner:
“It was about six months ago that I repaired as usual on the Sabbath morning to mass, accompanied by Dame Margaretha, when I found myself the object of some attention on the part of a lady, who was kneeling at a short distance from the place which I occupied in the church. The lady was enveloped in a dark, thick veil, the ample folds of which concealed her countenance, and meandered over her whole body’s splendidly symmetrical length of limb in such a manner as to aid her rich attire in shaping, rather than hiding, the contours of that matchless form. I was struck by her fine proportions, which gave her, even in her kneeling attitude, a queen-like and majestic air; and I longed to obtain a glimpse of her countenance—the more so as I could perceive by her manner and the position of her head that from beneath her dark veil her eyes were intently fixed upon myself. At length the scrutiny to which I was thus subjected began to grow so irksome—nay, even alarming, that I hurriedly drew down my own veil, which I had raised through respect for the sacred altar whereat I was kneeling. Still I knew that the stranger lady was gazing on me; I felt that she was. A certain uneasy sensation—amounting almost to a superstitious awe—convinced me that I was the object of her undivided attention. Suddenly the priests, in procession, came down from the altar; and as they passed us, I instinctively raised my veil again, through motives of deferential respect. At the same instant I glanced toward the stranger lady; she also drew back the dark covering from her face. Oh! what a countenance was then revealed to me—a countenance of such sovereign beauty that, though of the same sex, I was struck with admiration; but, in the next moment, a thrill of terror shot through my heart—for the fascination of the basilisk could scarcely paralyze its victim with more appalling effect than did the eyes of that lady. It might be conscience qualms, excited by some unknown influence—it might even have been imagination; but it nevertheless appeared as if those large, black, burning orbs shot forth lightnings which seared and scorched my very soul! For that splendid countenance, of almost unearthly beauty, was suddenly marked by an expression of such vindictive rage, such ineffable hatred, such ferocious menace, that I should have screamed had I not been as it were stunned—stupefied!
“The procession of priests swept past. I averted my head from the stranger lady. In a few moments I again glanced hurriedly at the place which she had occupied—but she was gone. Then I felt relieved! On quitting the church, I frankly narrated to old Margaretha these particulars as I have now unfolded them to you; and methought that she was for a moment troubled as I spoke! But if she were, she speedily recovered her composure—endeavored to soothe me by attributing it all to my imagination, and earnestly advised me not to cause any uneasiness to the count by mentioning the subject to him. I readily promised compliance with this injunction; and in the course of a few days ceased to think upon the incident which has made so strange but evanescent an impression on my mind.”
“Doubtless Dame Margaretha was right in her conjecture,” said Wagner; “and your imagination——”
“Oh, no—no! It was not fancy!” interrupted Agnes, hastily. “But listen, and then judge for yourself. I informed you ere now that it was about six months ago when the event which I have just related took p
lace. At that period, also, my noble lover—the ever-to be lamented Andrea—first experienced the symptoms of that internal disease which has, alas! carried him to the tomb.”
Agnes paused, wiped away her tears, and continued thus:
“His visits to me consequently became less frequent;—I was more alone—for Margaretha was not always a companion who could solace me for the absence of one so dearly loved as my Andrea; and repeated fits of deep despondency seized upon my soul. At those times I felt as if some evil—vague and undefinable, but still terrible—were impending over me. Was it my lord’s approaching death of which I had a presentiment? I know not! Weeks passed away; the count’s visits occurred at intervals growing longer and longer—but his affection toward me had not abated. No: a malady that preyed upon his vitals retained him much at home;—and at last, about two months ago, I received through Antonio the afflicting intelligence that he was confined to his bed. My anguish now knew no bounds. I would fly to him—oh! I would fly to him:—who was more worthy to watch by his couch than I, who so dearly loved him! Dame Margaretha represented to me how painful it would be to his lordship were our amour to transpire through any rash proceeding on my part—the more so, as I knew that he had a daughter and a son! I accordingly restrained my impetuous longing to hasten to his bedside:—I could not so easily subdue my grief!
“One night I sat up late in my lonely chamber—pondering on the melancholy position in which I was placed,—loving so tenderly, yet not daring to fly to him whom I loved,—and giving way to all the mournful ideas which presented themselves to my imagination. At length my mind grew bewildered by those sad reflections; vague terrors gathered around me—multiplying in number and augmenting in intensity,—until at length the very figures on the tapestry with which the room was hung appeared animated with power to scare and affright me. The wind moaned ominously without, and raised strange echoes within; oppressive feelings crowded on my soul. At length the gale swelled to a hurricane—a whirlwind, seldom experienced in this delicious clime. Howlings in a thousand tones appeared to flit through the air; and piercing lamentations seemed to sound down the black clouds that rolled their mighty volumes together, veiling the moon and stars in thickest gloom. Overcome with terror, I retired to rest—and I slept. But troubled dreams haunted me throughout the night, and I awoke at an early hour in the morning. But—holy angels protect me!—what did I behold? Bending over me, as I lay, was that same countenance which I had seen four months before in the church,—and now, as it was then, darting upon me lightning from large black eyes that seemed to send shafts of flame and fire to the inmost recesses of my soul! Yet—distorted as it was with demoniac rage—that face was still endowed with the queen-like beauty—the majesty of loveliness, which had before struck me, and which even lent force to those looks of dreadful menace that were fixed upon me. There were the high forehead—the proud lip, curled in scorn,—the brilliant teeth, glistening between the quivering vermilion,—and the swan-like arching of the dazzling neck; there also was the dark glory of the luxuriant hair!
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