Fergus Hume

“ Dio! his tomb."
"Signorina, do not affright yourself thus! Things may not be so bad as you think."
"It is like the Inferno of Dante! and turns my blood cold with fear; but I will not go back! I must find Guiseppe, even if it cost me my life. Come, Signor, presto! there is no time to lose."
She crossed herself once more, then flitted through the opening in the iron gate like a noiseless-winged bird, upon which I hastily followed her, and we stood for a moment in the lonely courtyard, gazing at the great portals of the door leading to the hall, which stood half-open. ”

“ Signor Inglese. Is it not well with you? San Pietro! how the wine does change a face. Here has the Maestro been asking for you every day! 'Well! Well!' said I, 'he has gone away like the lover of the piccola!' And it is true! I see how you return. Eh! Madonna, all men are bad. I have been married--I know."
"You are wrong on this occasion, Petronella. I have not been at the wine, as you seem to think!"
"But your face, Signor Inglese--like that of a sick person! Gran dio!"
"Comes from sitting up all night by the bedside of Guiseppe Pallanza." ”

“ Hugo, you do not approve of my ideas? Well, I do not wonder at that Fire and water are not more different than an Italian and an Englishman. Your cool blood comes from generations of church-going, straight-laced ancestors, whose beliefs ruled their lives in a simple manner; but my fiery blood burned in the veins of those condottieri of the Renaissance who were at war with King and Pope and Republic, who constantly stood on the verge of unseen precipices, and who needed all their craft, their courage, and their iron nerve to preserve their lives and fortunes. ”

“ You are ill," cried Madame Beltrami, rising to her feet and crossing quickly to the table before the curtain behind which we were concealed. "Let me give you some wine."
"No, no! thank you. I am quite well!" said Bianca, going to the window and opening it. "It is only the heat. The fresh air will do me good."
"A glass of wine will be better," replied the Marchesa, pouring out a glass of Chianti.
I felt myself seized with a kind of vertigo at seeing this demon take from her breast a small bottle and empty the whole contents of it into the glass. ”

“ You forget Pallanza?"
"Not at all, Hugo; that is the whole point. Pallanza is not dead."
I stared at the Marchese in astonishment.
"Pallanza not dead! Impossible! I saw him die on that night."
"Dame! You saw him fall insensible at the feet of the Contessa Morone, but insensibility is not death."
"Then he is alive?"
"Naturally! One must either be alive or dead. And as this devil of a tenor is not the latter, he must therefore be the former." ”

“ I sat smoking and thinking in the twilight, which was a bad preparation for the event, as twilight thoughts are invariably mournful, and my own dear dead ones seemed to throng in the dusky shadow of the room, reproaching me in voiceless grief for the intention I had of profaning the sanctity of the Tomb. To rid myself of these melancholy reflections, and banish from my brain the mute crowd of ghosts, I went out for a walk, intending to call at the Casa Angello, in order to ask after the Signorina Bianca. ”

“ Neither the Maestro nor Bianca seemed inclined to accept this tread-on-the-tail-of-my-coat challenge, so Petronella looked from one to the other to see on whom she should pour out the vials of her wrath. Ultimately she chose Bianca.
"Ah, it is you, Signorina! it is you who enrage me. And for why? you ask. Holy Saints! you ask why. Because you sit there like a statue in the Duoma. Will that bring him back? say I. No, Signora, let the bad young man go. Ecco!"
"Guiseppe is not a bad young man," cried Bianca, rising angrily to her feet.
"Are you older than I am, piccola? No! ”

“ Again I heard that wicked laugh, and this time it seemed to come from a tomb near me, a square block of gray stone, in the centre of which was an iron door, evidently the entrance to some vault. Beside this portal stood a life-sized figure in white marble of the Angel of Death, guarding the entrance with a flaming sword, the undulating blade of which seemed, to my startled eye, to waver against the blackness of the door. All round this strange tomb the grass grew long and thick, but, half veiled by the tangled herbage, star-shaped flowers glimmered in the moonlight. ”

“ I said gently.
"Ah, Signore, if I thought you would be my friend!"
"Certainly I will be your friend."
"The Maestro is so old. Petronella is so foolish. We know none in Verona, and I can do nothing for my poor Guiseppe!"
"Your lover, Signorina?"
"Yes. I promised you should see him at Verona, but--now--ah now!--but perhaps you have heard him singing at the Ezzelino?"
"No; I have not been to the opera since my arrival here. What is the matter with him? Is he ill?"
"I know not! I know not! He is lost!" ”

“ As I gazed she moved slightly, the bright light of a lamp shone on her neck, and I saw a sudden tongue of red flame flash through the semi-twilight of the box, which at once reminded me of the necklace of rubies worn by that terrible vampire of the graveyard.
Eager to know all about this woman, whom I felt sure was the murderess of Pallanza, I listened breathlessly to the two officers who were still talking about her.
"It is a year since Morone died," said Teodoro, lowering his opera-glass, "and she has lived since at Rome, where I met her. Why has she returned here?" ”

“ Here Bianca, seeing the darkness, nearly fainted with nervous fear, for, deeply imbued with grim Italian superstitions, she beheld unseen terrors in every shadowy corner. I again wanted her to return, but with wilful obstinacy she refused, so, as I luckily had a pocket-flask of brandy with me, I made her take a little to revive her. The fiery spirit put new life into her sinking limbs, and, after lighting my candle as usual, I led her up the steps, through the short corridor, through the tapestried ante-chamber, until at last we stood in the fatal room. ”

“ So many fast young Englishmen whom I knew had adopted the same lie to cover their little peccadilloes that I was quite sure Pallanza had employed the same fiction to prevent the scandal of his intrigue with this unknown woman from reaching the ears of his fiancée. Bianca was a very proud girl, and I felt certain, from what little I had seen of her character, that if she discovered Guiseppe was playing her false, she would at once break off the engagement at any cost. Like all Italian women, when she loved she loved with her whole soul, and expected the same single-hearted return to her passion ”

“ The Marchesa, having completed her devilish work, was about to go, for I heard her say something to Bianca about seeing Pallanza on the stairs, when suddenly we heard Guiseppe's gay voice talking to Petronella, who strove to detain him; but with a merry laugh he brushed past her, and a moment afterwards was in the room. Standing there in the grasp of Beltrami, hidden by the curtains, there seemed to be a silence lasting an eternity; then we heard Guiseppe give a terrible cry of rage and fear, and despair,--
"Giulietta! you here! Demon! what are you doing?" ”

“ Guiseppe looked up with sudden hope, and the Marchesa with a cry of abject terror reeled back with staring eyes and outstretched arms as the truth flashed across her mind.
"Life! life! oh! devil that you are, you--you--have changed--"
The fierce beauty of her face was suddenly distorted by a spasm of agony. She put her hands to her throat and tore open her dress, tore off the ruby necklace, the gems of which flashed down to the floor like a rain of blood, then with a yell of fear which had nothing human in its despair, she fell at our feet--dead. ”

“ No one comes here during the day."
"Hush! what is that?"
Infected by her terror my heart gave a jump, and I listened intently, but could hear no sound.
"It is nothing, Signorina. Your nerves are unstrung!"
"No! No! I can hear it. Some one is coming. Listen!"
In order to humour her fancy I remained silent with all my senses on the alert, and with a feeling of dread I heard the sound. The light fall of footsteps, the rustle of a silken dress--a dress!--the full horror of the situation rushed on me at once.
"It must be the Contessa Morone!" ”

“ Cospetto! it was the luck of the devil. Why had this scellerato run away? A sick friend? Bah! there was no sick friend. It was a woman who had enticed away this pazzo. A dying friend from Rome was not a very likely story, but a lie--a large and magnificent lie. Here was the basso of his company, who had been singing with Pallanza at the Apollo; ask him, truth is on his lips, Behold this good man!
Signor Basso-profundo advanced, and though truth might have been on his lips it certainly was not apparent on his face, for a more deceitful countenance I never beheld. ”

“ I now saw that my surmise was right, and that the Contessa had hidden the body of the unfortunate Pallanza in the concealed tomb contrived by Count Mastino Morone for his guilty wife. It was a horribly ingenious idea that revolving pillar, and no one would have guessed its ghastly secret without being shown. Doubtless the wicked Donna Renata, shut up in this circular prison, had there starved slowly to death in an upright position, for, of course, the cavity was too narrow and too shallow to admit of any human being lying down. ”

“ I heard him singing Faust at the Apollo, and told all my friends to go and hear the New Mario."
"That is what they call him here, Signora," replied Bianca proudly; "but, indeed, it was kind of you to aid him. I wonder Guiseppe never spoke to me about you, for he never forgets a kindness."
"Ah! I'm afraid some men have not much gratitude," said Madame Beltrami with a laugh. "Never mind, when Signor Pallanza comes in you will see he has not forgotten me." ”

“ Some unhappy ghost of antique Verona, who had committed one of those terrible crimes invented by Lucrezia Borgia, and who was condemned by God to nightly revisit the scene of her former splendour as a punishment for her evil life? Some ghoul who left the feast of the dead in order to prey upon the living? Some vampire, lusting for blood, hastening towards the sleeping city to select her victim and drain him of his life-blood? ”

“ Petronella clapped her hands together with an ejaculation of delight
"He is found, then, the poor young man! Ah! it is well I did not waste a centesimo in masses; and those priests are such thieves. Eh! this news will be like wine to the piccola. Go in! go in, Signor Inglese! the Signorina is there, but the Maestro! he is in bed, which is the best place for him, say I."
After this breathless harangue Petronella ushered me into the sitting-room, where I found Bianca sitting by the window, contemplating a portrait of her lost lover. ”

“ Bianca looked at me searchingly. She was a simple little thing as a rule, but this ridiculous story I had manufactured of brigands in the heart of Verona was too much even for her confiding nature, and she made a gesture of disbelief.
"It is not true! it is not true!" she cried vehemently. "Why do you deceive me, Signor?"
"I am not deceiving you."
"An enemy! a false letter! a deserted palace! held captive! Oh, I cannot believe it. If it is true, why did you not rescue him?" ”

“ Both the doctor and myself, obeying the summons, went through the bedroom, and soon found ourselves by the couch, whereon lay the still form of the young man, with that terrible death-in-life look on his white face.
"See, Avenza, this is what I spoke about," said Beltrami, holding up a small phial filled with a red liquid. "It is the antidote to the poison which this Pallanza was foolish enough to take."
"And all through a love disappointment," replied Avenza, lifting his eyes. "Ah! the poor young man!" ”

“ The typical Italian face with the black curly hair, dark eyes, small moustache and sallow skin; the slender figure arrayed in a doublet of blue velvet, slashed with white satin; the azure silk cloak, the poniard and the high riding-boots--nothing was wanting; the successful tenor of the portrait was the man who had taken poison from the hand of the lady of the sepulchre. Still it was no use telling Bianca of my suspicions until I had discovered the whole secret; and besides, as Guiseppe was dead, I naturally shrank from being the bearer of such bad news. ”

“ There was a sudden smash of glass, as Beltrami hurled himself through the archway and stood before his terrible wife.
"You lie, wretch! Here is the antidote!"
Bianca was lying unconscious in Guiseppe's arms, and he, with a cry of joy, stretched out his hand for the phial which Beltrami, standing midway between his wife and the tenor, was holding. Suddenly, with a shriek of rage, the Marchesa sprang forward, and tearing the phial from his hand, hurled it through the open window into the street.
"No, no! She shall die! She shall die!" ”

“ Riddle do I say? No! it was a riddle no longer, save as to the visit of the Contessa to the vault of her family, for otherwise everything was clear enough. She had met Pallanza at Rome, and had fallen in love with his handsome face. The young man, flattered by the attentions of a great lady, had yielded readily enough to the charm of the situation, but, growing tired of the intrigue, had come to Verona, where Bianca awaited him, with the intention of breaking it off. ”

“ Ah, the good news! Oh, how happy I am! He is alive, then? he is well! Oh, say he is well, Signor Hugo!"
"Signorina, he is still weak after his adventure, and at present he is in bed."
"Oh, let me go to him! let me go at once! He may die, my poor Guiseppe!"
"No he will not die; but put on your hat and I will take you to him, for you alone, Signorina, can nurse him back to health and strength."
Bianca ran to put on her hat and tell the Maestro the good news, which evidently delighted the old man greatly, judging from the extraordinary chuckling sounds which shortly proceeded from his bedroom. ”