Marie Corelli 
 
JOHN SKALLY TERRY 
 MEMORIAL COLLECTION 
 
 ESTABLISHED BY 
 
 THE FAMILY IN HONOR OF 
 JOHN S. TERRY 
 
 CLASS OF 1918 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA LIBRARY 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
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 DAY indicated below: 
 
 
VENDETTA 
 
 OR 
 
 THE STORY OF ONE FORGOTTEi 
 
 BY 
 
 MAR1H CORELLI 
 
 AOTHOR OF " THE SOUL OF LILITH," u A ROMANCE OF TWV, 
 WORLDS," "WORMWOOD," "THELMA," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HURST & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS, 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/vendettaorstoryoOOcore 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Lest those who' read the following pages should deem this 
 dtory at all improbable, it is perhaps necessary to say that its 
 chief incidents are founded on an actual occurrence which took 
 place in Naples during the last scathing visitation of the 
 cholera in 1884. We know well enough, by the chronicle of 
 daily journalism, that the infidelity of wives is, most unhap- 
 pily, becoming common — far too common for the peace and 
 good repute of society. Not so common is an outraged hus- 
 band's vengeance — not often dare he take the law into his own 
 hands — for in England, at least, such boldness on his part 
 would doubtless be deemed a worse crime than that by which 
 he personally is doomed to suffer. But in Italy things are on 
 a different footing — the verbosity and red-tape of the law, and 
 the hesitating verdict of special juries, are not there considered 
 sufficiently efficacious to soothe a man's damaged honor and 
 ruined name. And thus — whether right or wrong — it often 
 happens that strange and awful deeds are perpetrated — deeds 
 of whicn the world in general hears nothing, and which, when 
 brought to light at last, are received with surprise and in- 
 credulity. Yet the romances planned by the brain of the 
 novelist or dramatist are poor in comparison with the romances 
 of real life — life wrongly termed commonplace, but which, in 
 fact, teems with tragedies as great and dark and soul-torturing 
 as any devised by Sophocles or Shakespeare. Nothing is more 
 strange than truth — nothing, at times, more terrible ! 
 
 Marie Corelll 
 August, 1886. 
 
 599136 
 
VENDETTA! 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I, who write this, am a dead man. Dead legally — dead 
 by absolute proofs — dead and buried ! Ask for me in my na- 
 tive city and they will tell you I was one of the victims of the 
 cholera that ravaged Naples in 1884, and that my mortal 
 remains lie moldering in the funeral vault of my ancestors. 
 Yet — I live ! I feel the warm blood coursing through my 
 veins — the blood of thirty summers — the prime of early man 
 hood invigorates me, and makes these eyes of mine keen and 
 bright — these muscles strong as iron — this hand powerful of 
 grip) — this well-knit form erect and proud of bearing. Yes ! 
 — I am alive, though declared to be dead ; alive in the. ill- 
 ness of manly force — and even sorrow has left few distin- 
 guishing marks upon me, save one. My hair, once ebony- 
 black, is white as a wreath of Alpine snow, though its cluster- 
 ing curls are thick as ever. 
 
 " A constitutional inheritance ? " asks one physician, observ- 
 ing my frosted locks. 
 
 " A sudden shock ? " suggests another. 
 
 " Exposure to intense heat ? " hints a third. 
 
 I answer none of them. I did so once. I told my story to 
 a man I met by chance — one renowned for medical skill and 
 kindliness. He heard me to the end in evident incredulity 
 and alarm, and hinted at the possibility of madness. Since 
 then I have never spoken. 
 
 But now I write. I am far from all persecution — I can set 
 down the truth fearlessly. I can dip the pen in my own blood 
 if I choose, and none shall gainsay me ! For the green silence 
 of a vast South American forest encompasses me — the grand 
 and stately silence of a virginal nature, almost unbroken by 
 the ruthless step of man's civilization — a haven of perfec' 
 
6 VENDETTA t 
 
 calm, delicately disturbed by the fluttering wings and soft 
 voices of birds, and the gentle or stormy murmur of the free- 
 born winds of heaven. Within this charmed circle of rest I 
 dwell — here I lift up my overburdened heart like a brimming 
 chalice, and empty it on the ground, to the last drop of gall 
 contained therein. The world shall know my history. 
 
 Dead, and yet living ! How can that be ? — you ask. Ah, my 
 friends ! If you seek to be rid of your dead relations for a cer- 
 tainty, you should have their bodies cremated. Otherwise 
 there is no knowing what may happen ! Cremation is the best 
 way — the only way. It is clean, and safe. Why should there 
 fee any prejudice against it ? Surely it is better to give the 
 remains of what we loved (or pretended to love) to cleansing 
 fire and pure air than to lay them in a cold vault of stone, or 
 down, down in the wet and clinging earth. For loathly things 
 are hidden deep in the mold — things, foul and all unname- 
 able — long worms — slimy creatures with blind eyes and use- 
 less wings — abortions and deformities of the insect tribe born 
 of poisonous vapor — creatures the very sight of which would 
 drive you, oh, delicate woman, into a fit of hysteria, and would 
 provoke even you, oh, strong man, to a shudder of repulsion ! 
 But there is a worse thing than these merely physical horrors 
 which come of so-called Christian burial — that is, the terrible 
 uncertainty. What, if after we have lowered the narrow 
 strong box containing our dear deceased relation into its vault 
 or hollow in the ground — what, if after we have worn a seemly 
 garb of woe, and tortured our faces into the fitting expression 
 of gentle and patient melancholy — what, I say, if after all the 
 reasonable precautions taken to insure safety, they should 
 actually prove insufficient ? What— if the prison to which we 
 have consigned the deeply regretted one should not have such 
 close doors as we fondly imagined ? What, if the stout coffin 
 should be wrenched apart by fierce and frenzied fingers — 
 what, if our late dear friend should not be dead, but should, 
 like Lazarus of old, come forth to challenge our affection 
 anew ? Should we not grieve sorely that we had failed to 
 avail ourselves of the secure and classical method of crema- 
 tion ? Especially if we had benefited by worldly goods or 
 money left to us by the so deservedly lamented ! For we are 
 self-deceiving hypocrites — few of us are really sorry for the 
 dead — few of us remember them with any real tenderness or 
 affection. And yet God knows ! they may need more pity 
 than we dream of ! 
 
 But let me to my task. I, Fabio Romani, lately deceased, 
 
VENDETTA! J 
 
 am about to chronicle the events of one short year — a year ? 4 
 which was compressed the agony of a long and tortured life- 
 time ! One little year ! — one sharp thrust from the dagger cf 
 Time ! It pierced my heart — the wound still gapes and 
 bleeds, and every drop of blood is taMed as it falls ! 
 
 One suffering, common to many, I have never known — that 
 is — poverty. I was born rich. When my father, Count 
 Filippo Romani, died, leaving me, then a lad of seventeen, 
 sole heir to his enormous possessions — sole head of his power- 
 ful house — there were many candid friends who, with their 
 usual kindness, prophesied the worst things of my future. 
 Nay, there were even some who looked forward to my physi- 
 cal and mental destruction with a certain degree of malignant 
 expectation — and they were estimable persons too. They 
 were respectably connected — their words carried weight — 
 and for a time I was an object of their maliciously pious 
 fears. I was destined, according to their calculations, to be 
 a gambler, a spendthrift, a drunkard, an incurable rout of the 
 most abandoned character. Yet, strange to say, I became 
 none of these things. Though a Neapolitan, with all the 
 fiery passions and hot blood of my race, I had an innate 
 scorn for the contemptible vices and low desires of the un- 
 thinking vulgar. Gambling seemed to me a delirious folly — 
 drink, a destroyer of health and reason — and licentious ex- 
 travagance an outrage on the poor. I chose my own way of 
 life — a middle course between simplicity and luxury — a judi- 
 cious mingling of home-like peace with the gayety of sympa- 
 thetic social intercourse — an even tenor of intelligent exist- 
 «nce which neither exhausted the mind nor injured the body. 
 
 I dwelt in my father's villa — a miniature palace of white 
 marble, situated on a wooded height overlooking the Bay of 
 Naples. My pleasure-grounds were fringed with fragrant 
 groves of orange and myrtle, where hundreds of full-voiced 
 nightingales warbled their love-melodies to the golden moon. 
 Sparkling fountains rose and fell in huge stone basins carved 
 with many a quaint design, and their cool murmurous splash 
 refreshed the burning silence of the hottest summer air. In 
 this retreat I lived at peace for some happy years, surrounded 
 by books and pictures, and visited frequently by friends — 
 young men whose tastes were more or less like my own, and 
 who were capable of equally appreciating the merits of an 
 antique volume, or the flavor of a rare vintage. 
 
 Of women I saw little or nothing. Truth to tell, I instinct- 
 ively avoided them. Parents with marriageable daughter^ 
 
8 VENDETTA t 
 
 invitee 1 me frequently to their houses, but these invitations I 
 generally refused. My best books warned me against fem- 
 inine society — and I believed and accepted the warning. 
 This tendency of mine exposed me to the ridicule of those 
 among my companions who were amorously inclined, but 
 their gay jests at what they termed my " weakness " never 
 affected me. I trusted in friendship rather than love, and I 
 had a friend — one for whom at that time I would gladly have 
 laid down my life — one who inspired me with the most pro- 
 found attachment. He, Guido Ferrari, also joined occasion- 
 ally with others in the good-natured mockery I brought down 
 upon myself by my shrinking dislike of women. 
 
 " Fie on thee, Fabio ! " he would cry. " Thou wilt not 
 taste life till thou hast sipped the nectar from a pair of rose- 
 red lips — thou shalt not guess the riddle of the stars till thou 
 hast gazed deep down into the fathomless glory of a maiden's 
 eyes — thou canst not know delight till thou hast clasped eager 
 arms round a coy waist and heard the beating of a passionate 
 heart against thine own ! A truce to thy musty volumes ! 
 Believe it, those ancient and sorrowful philosophers had no 
 manhood in them — their blood was water — and their slanders 
 against women were but the pettish utterances of their own 
 deserved disappointments. Those who miss the chief prize 
 of life would fain persuade others that it is not worth having. 
 What, man I Thou, with a ready wit, a glancing eye, a gay 
 smile, a supple form, thou wilt not enter the lists of love ? 
 What says Voltaire of the blind god ? 
 
 ** ' Qui que tu sois voila ton maitre, 
 II fut— il est— ou il doit etre I ' " 
 
 When my friend spoke thus I smiled, but answered nothing. 
 His arguments failed to convince me. Yet I loved to hear 
 him talk — his voice was mellow as the note of a thrush, and 
 his eyes had an eloquence greater than all speech. I loved 
 him — God knows ! unselfishly, sincerely — with that rare ten- 
 derness sometimes felt by schoolboys for one another, but 
 seldom experienced by grown men. I was happy in his 
 society, as he, indeed, appeared to be in mine. We passed 
 most of our time together, he, like myself, having been be- 
 reaved of his parents in early youth, and therefore left to 
 shape out his own course of life as suited his particular fancy. 
 He chose art as a profession, and, though a fairly successful 
 oainter, was as poor as I was rich. I remedied this neglect 
 
VENDETTA! 9 
 
 of fortune for him in various ways with due forethought and 
 delicacy — and gave him as many commissions as I possibly 
 could without rousing his suspicion or wounding his pride. 
 For he possessed a strong attraction for me — we had much 
 the same tastes, we shared the same sympathies, in short, I 
 desired nothing better than his confidence and companion- 
 ship. 
 
 In this world no one, however harmless, is allowed to com 
 tinue happy. Fate — or caprice — cannot endure to see us 
 monotonously at rest. Something perfectly trivial — a look, a 
 word, a touch, and lo ! a long chain of old associations is 
 broken asunder, and the peace we deemed so deep and lasting 
 in finally interrupted. This change came to me, as surely as 
 it comes to all. One day — how well I remember it ! — one 
 sultry evening toward the end of May, 188 1, I was in Naples. 
 I had passed the afternoon in my yacht, idly and slowly sail- 
 ing ver the bay, availing myself of what little wind there was. 
 Guido's absence (he had gone to Rome on a visit of some 
 weeks' duration) rendered me somewhat of a solitary, and as 
 my light craft ran into harbor, I found myself in a pensive, 
 half-uncertain mood, which brought with it its own depres- 
 sion. The few sailors who manned my vessel dispersed right 
 and left as soon as they were landed — each to his own favo- 
 rite haunts of pleasure or dissipation — but I was in no humor 
 to be easily amused. Though I had plenty of acquaintance 
 in the city, I cared little for such entertainment as they could 
 offer me. As I strolled along through one of the principal 
 streets, considering whether or not I should return on foot to 
 my own dwelling on the heights, I heard a sound of singing, 
 and perceived in the distance a glimmer of white robes. It was 
 the Month of Mary, and I at once concluded that this must be 
 an approaching Procession of the Virgin. Half in idleness, 
 half in curiosity, I stood still and waited. The singing voices 
 came nearer and nearer — I saw the priests, the acolytes, the 
 swinging gold censers heavy with fragrance, the flaring can- 
 dles, the snowy veils of children and girls — and then all sud- 
 denly the picturesque beauty of the scene danced before my 
 eyes in a whirling blur of brilliancy and color from which 
 looked forth — one face ! One face beaming out like a star 
 from a cloud of amber tresses — one face of rose-tinted, child- 
 like loveliness — a loveliness absolutely perfect, lighted up by 
 two luminous eyes, large and black as night — one fa©e in 
 which the small, curved mouth smiled half provokingly, half 
 sweetly 1 I gazed and gazed again, dazzled and excited, 
 
16 VENDETTA / 
 
 beauty makes such fools of us all ! This was a woman — one 
 of the sex I mistrusted and avoided — a woman in the earliest 
 spring of her youth, a girl of fifteen or sixteen at the utmost. 
 Her veil had been thrown back by accident or design, and 
 for one brief moment I drank in that soul-tempting glance, 
 that witch-like smile ! The procession passed — the vision 
 faded — but in that breath of time one epoch of my life had 
 closed forever, and another had begun ! 
 
 Of course I married her. We Neapolitans lose no time in 
 such matters. We are not prudent. Unlike the calm blood 
 of Englishmen, ours rushes swiftly through our veins — it is 
 warm as wine and sunlight, and needs no fictitious stimulant. 
 We love, we desire, we possess ; and then ? We tire, you 
 say ? These southern races are so fickle ! All wrong — we 
 are less tired than you deem. And do not Englishmen tire ? 
 Have they no secret ennui at times when sitting in the chim- 
 ney nook of " home, sweet home," with their fat wives and 
 ever-spreading families ? Truly, yes ! But they are too 
 cautious to say so. 
 
 I need not relate the story of my courtship — it was brief 
 and sweet as a song sung perfectly. There were no obstacles. 
 The girl I sought was the only daughter of a ruined Floren- 
 tine noble of dissolute character, who gained a bare subsist- 
 ence by frequenting the gaming-tables. His child had been 
 brought up in a convent renowned for strict discipline — she 
 View nothing of the world. She was, he assured me, with 
 maudlin tears in his eyes, " as innocent as a flower on the 
 altar of the Madonna." I believed him — for what could this 
 lovely, youthful, low-voiced maiden know of even the shadow 
 of evil ? I was eager to gather so fair a lily for my own 
 proud wearing — and her father gladly gave her to me, no 
 doubt inwardly congratulating himself on the wealthy match 
 that had fallen to the lot of his dowerless daughter. 
 
 We were married at the end of June, and Guido Ferrari 
 graced our bridal with his handsome and gallant presence. 
 
 " By the body of Bacchus ! " he exclaimed to me when the 
 nuptial ceremony was over, " thou hast profited by my teach- 
 ing, Fabio ! A quiet rogue is often most cunning ! Thou 
 hast rifled the casket of Venus, and stolen her fairest jewel — - 
 thou hast secured the loveliest maiden in the two Sicilies ! " 
 
 I pressed his hand, and a touch of remorse stole over me, 
 for he was no longer first in my affection. Almost I regret- 
 ted it — yes, on my very wedding-morn I looked back to the 
 
VENDETTA! II 
 
 old days — old now though so recent — and sighed to think 
 they were ended. I glanced at Nina, my wife. It was 
 enough! Her beauty dazzled and overcame me. The melt- 
 ing languor of her large limpid eyes stole into my veins — I 
 forgot all but her. I was in that high delirium of passion in 
 which love, and love only, seems the keynote of creation. I 
 touched the topmost peak of the height of joy — the days were 
 feasts of fairy-land, the nights dreams of rapture ! No ; I 
 never tired ! My wife's beauty never palled upon me ; she 
 grew fairer with each day of possession. I never saw her 
 otherwise than attractive, and within a few months she had 
 probed all the depths of my nature. She discovered how 
 certain sweet looks of hers could draw me to her side, a will- 
 ing and devoted slave ; she measured my weakness with her 
 own power ; she knew — what did she not know ? I torture 
 myself with these foolish memories. All men past the age of 
 twenty have learned somewhat of the tricks of women — the 
 pretty playful nothings that weaken the will and sap the force 
 of the strongest hero. She loved me ? Oh, yes, I suppose 
 so ! Looking back on those days, I can frankly say I be- 
 lieve she loved me — as nine hundred wives out of a thousand 
 love their husbands, namely — for what they can get. And I 
 grudged her nothing. If I chose to idolize her, and raise her 
 to the stature of an angel when she was but on the low level 
 of mere womanhood, that was my folly, not her fault. 
 
 We kept open house. Our villa was a place of rendez- 
 vous for the leading members of the best society in and around 
 Naples. My wife was universally admired ; her lovely face 
 and graceful manners were themes of conversation through- 
 out the whole neighborhood. Guido Ferrari, my friend, was 
 one of those who were loudest in her praise, and the chival- 
 rous homage he displayed toward her doubly endeared him 
 to me. I trusted him as a brother ; he came and went as 
 pleased him ; he brought Nina gifts of flowers and fanciful 
 trifles adapted to her taste, and treated her with fraternal and 
 delicate kindness. I deemed my happiness perfect— with 
 love, wealth, and friendship, what more could a man desire ? 
 
 Yet another drop of honey was added to my cup of sweet- 
 ness. On the first morning of May, 1882, our child was born 
 — a girl-babe, fair as one of the white anemones which at 
 that season grew thickly in the woods surrounding our 
 home. They brought the little one to me in the shaded 
 veranda where I sat at breakfast with Guido — a tiny, almost 
 afiapeksj bundle, wrapped in soft cashmere $nd old lacs 
 
}2 VENDETTA I 
 
 I took the fragile thing in my arms with a tender reverence ; 
 it opened its eyes ; they were large and dark like Nina's, and 
 the light of a recent heaven seemed still to linger in their 
 pure depths. I kissed the little face ; Guido did the same ; 
 and those clear, quiet eyes regarded us both with a strange 
 half-inquiring solemnity. A bird perched on a bough of jas- 
 mine broke into a low, sweet song, the soft wind blew and 
 scattered the petals of a white rose at our feet. I gave the 
 infant back to the nurse, who waited to receive it, and said, 
 with a smile, " Tell my wife we have welcomed her May- 
 blossom." 
 
 Guido laid his hand on my shoulder as the servant retired ; 
 his face was unusually pale. 
 
 " Thou art a good fellow, Fabio ! " he said, abruptly. 
 
 " Indeed ! How so ? " I asked, half laughingly ; " I am 
 no better than other men." 
 
 " You are less suspicious than the majority," he returned, 
 turning away from me and playing idly with a spray of clem- 
 atis that trailed on one of the pillars of the veranda. 
 
 I glanced at him in surprise. " What do you mean, amico $ 
 Have I reason to suspect any one ? " 
 
 He laughed and resumed his seat at the breakfast-table. 
 
 " Why, no ! " he answered, with a frank look. " But in 
 Naples the air is pregnant with suspicion — jealousy's dagger 
 is ever ready to strike, justly or unjustly — the very children 
 are learned in the ways of vice. Penitents confess to priests 
 who are worse than penitents, and by Heaven ! in such a 
 state of society, where conjugal fidelity is a farce v — he paused 
 a moment, and then went on — " is it not wonderful to know 
 a man like you, Fabio ? A man happy in home affections, 
 without a cloud on the sky of his confidence ? " 
 
 " I have no cause for distrust," I said. " Nina is as inno- 
 cent as the little child of whom she is to-day the mother." 
 
 " True ! " exclaimed Ferrari. " Perfectly true 1 " and he 
 looked me full in the eyes, with a smile. " White as the vir- 
 gin snow on the summit of Mont Blanc — purer than the flaw- 
 less diamond — and unapproachable as the furthest star ! Is 
 it not so ? " 
 
 I assented with a certain gravity ; something in his man- 
 ner puzzled me. Our conversation soon turned on different 
 topics, and I thought no more of the matter. But a time 
 came — and that speedily — when I had stern reason to remem* 
 ber every word he had uttered. 
 
VENDETTA! 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Every one knows what kind of summer we had in Naples 
 in 1884. The newspapers of all lands teemed with the story 
 of its horrors. The cholera walked abroad like a destroying 
 demon ; under its withering touch scores of people, young 
 and old, dropped down in the streets to die. The fell dis^ 
 ease, born of dirt and criminal neglect of sanitary pre- 
 cautions, gained on the city with awful rapidity, and worse 
 even than the plague was the unreasoning but universal panic. 
 The never-to-be-forgotten heroism of King Humbert had its 
 effect on the more educated classes, but among the low Nea- 
 politan populace, abject fear, vulgar superstition, and utter 
 selfishness reigned supreme. One case may serve as an ex- 
 ample of many others. A fisherman, well known in the place, 
 a handsome and popular young fellow, was seized, while 
 working in his boat, with the first symptoms of cholera. He 
 was carried to his mother's house. The old woman, a vil- 
 lainous-looking hag, watched the little procession as it ap- 
 proached her dwelling, and taking in the situation at once, 
 she shut and barricaded her door. 
 
 " Santissima Madonna ! " she yelled, shrilly, through a 
 half-opened window. " Leave him in the street, the aban- 
 doned, miserable one ! The ungrateful pig I He would 
 bring the plague to his own hard-working, honest mother ! 
 Holy Joseph 1 who would have children ? Leave him in the 
 street, I tell you ! " 
 
 It was useless to expostulate with this feminine scarecrow ; 
 her son was, happily for himself, unconscious, and after some 
 more wrangling he was laid down on her doorstep, where he 
 shortly afterward expired, his body being afterward carted 
 away like so much rubbish by the beccamorti. 
 
 The heat in the city was intense. The sky was a burning 
 dome of brilliancy, the bay was still as a glittering sheet of 
 glass. A thin column of smoke issuing from the crater of 
 Vesuvius increased the impression of an all-pervading, though 
 imperceptible ring of fire, that seemed to surround the place. 
 No birds sung save in the late evening, when the nightingales 
 in my gardens broke out in a bubbling torrent of melody, 
 half joyous, half melancholy. Up on that wooded height 
 where I dwelt it was comparatively cool. I took all precau- 
 tions necessary to prevent the contagion from attacking our 
 
f4 V&ND&TTA! 
 
 household; in fact, I would have left the neighborhood 
 altogether, had I not known that hasty flight from an infected 
 district often carries with it the possibility of closer contact 
 with the disease. My wife, besides, was not nervous— I 
 think very beautiful women seldom are. Their superb 
 vanity is an excellent shield to repel pestilence ; it does away 
 with the principal element of danger — fear. As for our 
 Stella, a toddling mite of two years old, she was a healthy 
 child, for whom neither her mother nor myself entertained 
 the least anxiety. 
 
 Guido Ferrari came and stayed with us, and while the 
 cholera, like a sharp scythe put into a field of ripe corn, 
 mowed down the dirt-loving Neapolitans by hundreds, we 
 three, with a small retinue of servants, none of whom were 
 ever permitted to visit the city, lived on farinaceous food 
 and distilled water, bathed regularly, rose and retired early, 
 and enjoyed the most perfect health. 
 
 Among her many other attractions my wife was gifted with 
 a beautiful and well-trained voice. She sung with exquisite 
 expression, and many an evening when Guido and myself sat 
 smoking in the garden, after little Stella had gone to bed, 
 Nina would ravish our ears with the music of her nightingale 
 notes, singing song after song, quaint stornelli and ritornelli 
 — songs of the people, full of wild and passionate beauty. In 
 these Guido would often join her, his full barytone chiming 
 in with her delicate and clear soprano as deliciously as the 
 fall of a fountain with the trill of a bird. I can hear those 
 two voices now ; their united melody still rings mockingly 
 in my ears ; the heavy perfume of orange-blossom, mingled 
 with myrtle, floats toward me on the air ; the yellow moon 
 burns round and full in the dense blue sky, like the King of 
 Thule's goblet of gold flung into a deep sea, and again I 
 behold those two heads leaning together, the one fair, the 
 other dark ; my wife, my friend — those two whose lives were 
 a million times dearer to me than my own. Ah ! they were 
 happy days — days of self-delusion always are. We are never 
 grateful enough to the candid persons who wake us from our 
 dreams — yet such are in truth our best friends, could we but 
 realize it. 
 
 August was the most terrible of all the summer months in 
 Naples. The cholera increased with frightful steadiness, 
 and the people seemed to be literally mad with terror. 
 Some of them, seized with a wild spirit of defiance, plunged 
 into orgies of vice and intemperance with a reckless disre 
 
VENDETTA / 
 
 «5 
 
 gard of consequences. One of these frantic revels took 
 
 place at a well-known cafe\ Eight young men, accompanied 
 by eight girls of remarkable beauty, arrived, and ordered a 
 private room, where they were served with a sumptuous re- 
 past. At its close one of the party raised his glass and pro- 
 posed, " Success* to the cholera ! " The toast was received 
 with riotous shouts of applause, and all drank it with delir 
 ious laughter. That very night every one of the revelers 
 died in horrible agony ; their bodies, as usual, were thrust 
 into flimsy coffins and buried one on top of another in a 
 hole hastily dug for the purpose. Dismal stories like these 
 reached us every day, but we were not morbidly impressed 
 by them. SteJla was a living charm against pestilence ; her 
 innocent playfulness and prattle kept us amused and em- 
 ployed, and surrounded us with an atmosphere that was 
 physically and mentally wholesome. 
 
 One morning — one of the very hottest mornings of that 
 scorching month — I woke at an earlier hour than usual. A 
 suggestion of possible coolness in the air tempted me to rise 
 and stroll through the garden. My wife slept soundly at my 
 side. I dressed softly, without disturbing her. As I was 
 about to leave the room some instinct made me turn back to 
 look at her once more. How lovely she was 1 she smiled in 
 her sleep ! My heart beat as I gazed — she had been mine 
 for three years — mine only ! — and my passionate admiration 
 and love of her had increased in proportion to that length of 
 time. I raised one of the scattered golden locks that lay 
 shining iike a sunbeam on the pillow, and kissed it tenderly. 
 Then — ail unconscious of my fate — I left her. 
 
 A faint breeze greeted me as I sauntered slowly along the 
 garden walks — a breath of wind scarce strong enough to 
 flutter the leaves, yet it had a salt savor in it that was re- 
 freshing after the tropical heat of the past night. I was at 
 that time absorbed in the study of Plato, and as I walked, 
 my mind occupied itself with many high problems and deep 
 questions suggested by that great teacher. Lost in a train 
 of profound yet pleasant thought, I strayed on further than 
 I intended, and found myself at last in a by-path, long 
 disused by our household — a winding footway leading down- 
 ward in the direction of the harbor. It was shady and cool, 
 and I followed the road almost unconsciously, till I caught 
 a glimpse of masts and white sails gleaming through the 
 leafage of the overarching trees. I was then about to re- 
 trace my steps, when I was startled by a sudden sound. It 
 
|6 VENDETTA! 
 
 was a low moan of intense pao — a smothered cry that 
 seemed to be wrung from some animal in torture. I turned 
 in the direction whence it came, and saw, lying face down« 
 ward on th3 grass, a boy — a little fruit-seller of eleven or 
 twelve years of age. His basket of wares stood beside him, 
 a tempting pile of peaches, grapes, pomegranates, and melons 
 — lovely bit dangerous eating in cholera times. I touched 
 the iad on tht shoulder." 
 
 " What a; Is you?" I asked. He twisted himself convul 
 siveiy and Mined his face toward me — a beautiful face, 
 though livid with anguish. 
 
 " The plague, signor ! " he moaned ; " the plague ! Keep 
 away from me, for the love of God 1 I am dying 1 " 
 
 I hesitated. For myself I had no fear. But my wife — - 
 m-y child — for their sakes -it was necessary to be prudent. 
 Yet I could not leave this poor boy unassisted. I resolved 
 to go to the harbor in search of medical aid. With this idea 
 in my mind I spoke cheerfully. 
 
 " Courage, my boy," I said ; " do not lose heart 1 All ill- 
 ness is not the plague, Rest here till I return ; I am going 
 to fetch a doctor." 
 
 The little fellow looked at me with wondering, pathetic 
 eyes, and tried to smile. He pointed to his throat, and made 
 an effort to speak, but vainly. Then he crouched down in 
 the grass and writhed in torture like a hunted animal wounded 
 to the death. I left him and walked on rapidly ; reaching 
 the harbor, where the heat was sulphurous and intense, I 
 found a few scared-looking men standing aimlessly about, 
 to whom I explained the boy's case, and appealed for assist- 
 ance. They all hung back — none of them would accom- 
 pany me, not even for the gold I offered. Cursing their 
 cowardice, I hurried on in search of a physician, and found 
 one at last, a sallow Frenchman, who listened with obvious 
 reluctance to my account of the condition in which I had 
 left the little fruit-seller, and at the end shook his head 
 decisively, and refused to move. 
 
 " He is as good as dead," he observed, with cold brevity. 
 " Better call at the house of the Miserecordia ; the brethren 
 will fetch his body." 
 
 " What ! " I cried ; " you will not try if you can save him ? * 
 
 The Frenchman bowed with satirical suavity. 
 
 " Monsieur must pardon me ! My own health would be 
 seriously endangered by touching a cholera corpse. Allow 
 me to wish monsieur the good-day 1 " 
 
VENDETTA! rf 
 
 And he disappeared, shutting his door in my face. I was 
 thoroughly exasperated, and though the heat and the fetid 
 odor of the sun-baked streets made me feel faint and sick, I 
 forgot all danger for myself as I stood in the plague-stricken 
 city, wondering what I should do next to obtain succor. A 
 grave, kind voice saluted my ear, 
 
 " You seek aid, my son ? " 
 
 I looked up. A tall monk, whose cowl partly concealed 
 his pale, but resolute features, stood at my side — one o* 
 those heroes who, for the love of Christ, came forth at tha* 
 terrible time and faced the pestilence fearlessly, where the 
 blatant boasters of no-religion scurried away like frightened 
 hares from the very scent of danger. I greeted him with an 
 obeisance, and explained my errand. 
 
 " I will go at once," he said, with an accent of pity in his 
 voice. " But I fear the worst. I have remedies with me ; 
 I may not be too late." 
 
 " I will accompany you," I said, eagerly. " One would 
 noi *et a dog die unaided ; much less this poor lad, who 
 seems friendless.*' 
 
 The monk looked at me attentively as we walked on to- 
 gether. 
 
 " You are not residing in Naples ? " he asked. 
 
 I gave him my name, which he knew by repute, and de- 
 scribed the position of my villa. 
 
 " Up on that height we enjoy perfect health," I added 
 " I cannot understand the panic that prevails in the city. 
 The plague is fostered by such cowardice." 
 
 " Of course 1 " he answered, calmly. " But what will you ? 
 The people here love pleasure. Their hearts are set solely 
 on this life. When death, common to all, enters their midst, 
 they are like babes scared by a dark shadow. Religion 
 itself " — here he sighed deeply — " has no hold upon them." 
 
 " But you, my father," I began, and stopped abruptty, con- 
 scious of a sharp throbbing pain in my temples. 
 
 " I," he answered, gravely, " am the servant of Christ. As 
 such, the plague has no terrors for me. Unworthy as I am, 
 for my Master's sake I am ready — nay, willing — to face all 
 deaths." 
 
 He spoke firmly, yet without arrogance. I looked at him 
 in a certain admiration, and was about to speak, when a curi- 
 ous dizziness overcame me, and I caught at his arm to save 
 myself from falling. The street rocked like a ship at sea, 
 and the skies whirled round me in circles of blue fire. The 
 
 9 
 
1$ VBNjDETTA! 
 
 feeling slowly passed, and I heard the monk's voice, as 
 though it were a long way off, asking me anxiously what was 
 the matter. I forced a smile. 
 
 " It is the heat, I think," I said, in feeble tones like those 
 of a very aged man. I am faint — giddy. You had best 
 leave me here — see to the boy. Oh, my God ! " 
 
 This last exclamation was wrung out of me by sheer an- 
 guish. My limbs refused to support me, and a pang, cold 
 and bitter as though naked steel had been thrust through my 
 body, caused me to sink down upon the pavement in a kind 
 of convulsion. The tall and sinewy monk, without a moment's 
 hesitation, dragged me up and half carried, half led me into 
 a kind of auberge^ or restaurant for the poorer classes. Here 
 he placed me in a recumbent position on one of the wooden 
 benches, and called up the proprietor of the place, a man to 
 whom he seemed to be well known. Though suffering acutely 
 I was conscious, and could hear and see everything that 
 passed. 
 
 " Attend to him well, Pietro — it is the rich Count Fabio 
 Romani. Thou wilt not lose by thy pains. I will return 
 within an hour." 
 
 " The Count Romani t Santissima Madonna J He has 
 caught the plague i " 
 
 " Thou fool ! " exclaimed the monk, fiercely. " How canst 
 thou tell ? A stroke of the sun is not the plague, thou 
 coward ! See to him, or by St. Peter and the keys there 
 shall be no place for thse in heaven ! " 
 
 The trembling innkeeper looked terrified at this menace, 
 and submissively approached me with pillows, which he 
 placed under my head. The monk, meanwhile, held a glass 
 to my lips containing some medicinal mixture, whkh I swal- 
 lowed mechanically. 
 
 " Rest here, my son," he said, addressing me in soothing 
 tones. " These people are good-natured. I will but hasten 
 to the boy for whom you sought assistance — in less than an 
 hour I will be with you again." 
 
 I laid a detaining hand on his arm. 
 
 " Stay," I murmured, feebly, " let me ka&w the worst. Is 
 this the plague ? " 
 
 " I hope not ! " he replied, compassionately " But what 
 if it be ? You are young and strong enough to fight against 
 it without fear." 
 
 " I have no fear," I said. " But, father, promise me ope 
 thing — send no word of my illness to my wife- -swear it \ 
 
VENDETTA!! 
 
 19 
 
 Even if I am unconscious — dead — swear that I shall not be 
 taken to the villa. Swear it ! I cannot rest till I have youi 
 word." 
 
 " I swear it most willingly, my son," he answered, solemn- 
 ly. " By all I hold sacred, I will respect your wishes." 
 
 I was infinitely relieved — the safety of those I loved was 
 assured — and I thanked him by a mute gesture. I was too 
 weak to say more. He disappeared, and my brain wandered 
 into a chaos of strange fancies. Let me try to revolve these 
 delusions. I plainly see the interior of the common room 
 where I lie. There is the timid innkeeper — he polishes his 
 glasses and bottles, casting ever and anon a scared glance in 
 my direction. Groups of men look in at the door, and, see- 
 ing me, hurry away. I observe all this — I know where I am 
 — yet I am also climbing the steep passes of an Alpine gorge 
 ■ — the cold snow is at my feet — I hear the rush and roar of a 
 thousand torrents. A crimson cloud floats above the summit 
 of a white glacier — it parts asunder gradually, and in its 
 bright center a face smiles forth ! " Nina ! my love, my wife, 
 my soul ! " I cry aloud. I stretch out my arms — I clasp 
 her ! — bah ! it is this good rogue of an innkeeper who holds 
 me in his musty embrace ! I struggle with him fiercely — 
 pantingly. 
 
 " Fool ! " I shriek in his ear. " Let me go to her — her 
 lips pout for kisses — let me go ! " 
 
 Another man advances and seizes me ; he and the inn- 
 keeper force me back on the pillows — they overcome me, and 
 the utter incapacity of a terrible exhaustion steals away my 
 strength. I cease to struggle. Pietro and his assistant look 
 down upon me. 
 
 " E morto /" they whisper one to the other. 
 
 I hear them and smile. Dead ? Not I ! The scorching 
 sunlight streams through the open door of the inn — the thirsty 
 flies buzz with persistent loudness — some voices are singing 
 ^La Fata di Amalfi" — I can distinguish the words — 
 
 " Chiagnaro la mia sventura 
 Si non tuorne chiu, Rosella I 
 Tu d' Amalfi la chiu bella, 
 Tu na Fata si pe me ! 
 Viene, vie, regina mie, 
 Viene curre a chisto core, 
 Ca non c'e non c'e sciore, 
 Non c'e stella comm' a te ! "* 
 
 * A popular song in the Neapolitan dialect. 
 
fO VENDETTA! 
 
 That is a true song, Nina mia / " Non (*l stella comm 9 ate?" 
 What did Guido say ? " Purer than the flawless diamond- 
 unapproachable as the furthest star ! " That foolish Pietro 
 still polishes his wine-bottles. I see him — his meek round 
 face is greasy with heat and dust ; but I cannot understand 
 how he comes to be here at all, for I am on the banks of a 
 tropical river where huge palms grow wild, and drowsy alli- 
 gators lie asleep in the sun. Their large jaws are open — 
 their small eyes glitter greenly. A light boat glides over the 
 silent water — in it I behold the erect lithe figure of an Indian. 
 His features are strangely similar to those of Guido. He 
 draws a long thin shining blade of steel as he approaches. 
 Brave fellow ! — he means to attack single-handed the cruel 
 creatures who lie in wait for him on the sultry shore. He 
 springs to land — I watch him with a weird fascination. He 
 passes the alligators — he seems not to be aware of their pres- 
 ence — be comes with swift, unhesitating step to me — it is 1 
 whom he seeks — it is in my heart that he plunges the cold 
 steel dagger, and draws it out again dripping with blood ! 
 Once — twice — thrice ! — and yet I cannot die ! I writhe — 
 I moan in bitter anguish ! Then something dark comes be- 
 tween me and the glaring sun — something cool and shadowy, 
 against which I fling myself despairingly. Two dark eyes 
 look steadily into mine, and a voice speaks : 
 
 " Be calm, my son, be calm. Commend thyself to Christ ! " 
 
 It is my friend the monk. I recognize him gladly. He 
 
 nas returned from his errand of mercy. Though I can 
 
 scarcely speak, I hear myself asking for news of the boy, 
 
 The holy man crosses himself devoutly. 
 
 " May his young soul rest in peace ! I found him dead." 
 I am dreamily astonished at this. Dead — so soon 1 I can- 
 not understand it ; and I drift off again into a state of con- 
 fused imaginings. As I look back now to that time, I find I 
 have no specially distinct recollection of what afterward 
 happened to me. I know I suffered intense, intolerable 
 pain — that I was literally tortured on a rack of excruciating 
 anguish — and that through all the delirium of my senses I 
 heard a muffled, melancholy sound like a chant or prayer. I 
 have an idea that I also heard the tinkle of the bell that 
 accompanies the Host, but my brain reeled more wildly with 
 each moment, and I cannot be certain of this. I remember 
 shrieking out after what seemed an eternity of pain, " Not to 
 the villa ! no, no, not there 1 You shall not take me — my 
 curse on him who disobeys me 1 " 
 
VENDETTA! 21 
 
 I remember then a fearful sensation, as of being dragged 
 into a deep whirlpool, from whence I stretched up appealing 
 hands and eyes to the monk who stood above me — I caught 
 a drowning glimpse of a silver crucifix glittering before my 
 gaze, and at last, with one loud cry for help, I sunk — down 
 — down 1 into an abyss of black night and nothingness 1 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 There followed a long drowsy time of stillness and shadow, 
 I seemed to have fallen in some deep well of delicious oblivion 
 and obscurity. Dream-like images still flitted before my fancy 
 — these were at first undefinable, but after awhile they took 
 more certain shapes. Strange fluttering creatures hovered 
 about me — lonely eyes stared at me from a visible deep gloom ; 
 long white bony fingers grasping at nothing made signs to me 
 of warning or menace. Then — very gradually, there dawned 
 upon my sense of vision a cloudy red mist like a stormy sunset, 
 and from the middle of the blood-like haze a huge black hand 
 descended toward me. It pounced upon my chest — it grasped 
 my throat in its monstrous clutch, and held me down with a 
 weight of iron. I struggled violently — I strove to cry out, 
 but that terrific pressure took from me all power of utterance. 
 I twisted myself to right and left in an endeavor to escape — 
 but my tyrant of the sable hand had bound me in on all sides. 
 Yet I continued to wrestle with the cruel opposing force that 
 strove to overwhelm me — little by little — inch by inch — so ! 
 At last ! One more struggle — victory ! I woke ! Merciful 
 God ! Where was I ? In what horrible atmosphere — in what 
 dense darkness ? Slowly, as my senses returned to me, I re- 
 membered my recent illness. The monk — the man Pietro — 
 where were they ? What had they done to me ? By degrees, 
 I realized that I was lying straight down upon my back — the 
 couch was surely very hard ? Why had they taken the pillows 
 from under my head ? A pricking sensation darted through 
 my veins — I felt my own hands curiously — they were warm, 
 and my pulse beat strongly, though fitfully. But what was 
 this that hindered my breathing? Air — air! I must have 
 air ! I put up my hands — horror ! They struck against a 
 hard opposing substance above me. Quick as lightning then 
 the truth flashed upon my mind ! I had been buried — buried 
 alive j this wooden prison that inclosed me was a coffin ! A 
 
2 2 VENDETTA. 
 
 Frenzy surpassing that of an infuriated tiger took swift posses* 
 sion of me — with hands and nails I tore and scratched at the 
 accursed boards — with all the force of my shoulders and arms 
 I toiled to wrench open the closed lid ! My efforts were fruit- 
 less ! I grew more ferociously mad with rage and terror. How 
 easy were all deaths compared to one like this ! I was suffocat- 
 ing — I felt my eyes start from their sockets — blood sprung 
 from my mouth and nostrils — and icy drops of sweat trickled 
 from my forehead. I paused, gasping for breath. Then, sud 
 denly nerving myself for one more wild effort, I hurled m} 
 limbs with all the force of agony and desperation against one 
 side of my narrow prison. It cracked — it split asunder ! — and 
 then — a new and horrid fear beset me, and I crouched back, 
 panting heavily. If — if I were buried in the ground — so ran 
 my ghastly thoughts — of what use to break open the coffin and 
 let in the mold — the damp wormy mold, rich with the bones of 
 the dead — the penetrating mold that would choke up my 
 mouth and eyes, and seal me into silence forever ! My mind 
 quailed at this idea — my brain tottered on the verge of mad- 
 ness ! I laughed — think of it ! — and my laugh sounded in my 
 ears like the last rattle in the throat of a dying man. But I 
 could breathe more easily — even in the stupefaction of my fears 
 ■ — I was conscious of air. Yes ! — the blessed air had rushed in 
 somehow. Revived and encouraged as I recognized this fact, 
 I felt with both hands till I found the crevice I had made, and 
 then with frantic haste and strength I pulled and dragged at 
 the wood, till suddenly the whole side of the coffin gave way, 
 and I was able to force up the lid. I stretched out my arms — ■ 
 no weight of earth impeded their movements — I felt nothing 
 but air — empty air. Yielding to my first strong impulse, I 
 leaped out of the hateful box, and fell — fell some little dis- 
 tance, bruising my hands and knees on what seemed to be a 
 stone pavement. Something weighty fell also, with a dull 
 crashing thud close to me. The darkness was impenetrable. 
 But there was breathing room, and the atmosphere was cool 
 and refreshing. With some pain and difficulty I raised myself 
 to a sitting position where I had fallen. My limbs were stiff 
 and cramped as well as wounded, and I shivered as with strong 
 ague. But my senses were clear — the tangled chain of my dis- 
 ordered thoughts became even and connected — my previous 
 mad excitement gradually calmed, and I began to consider 
 my condition. I had certainly been buried alive — there was 
 no doubt of that. Intense pain had, I suppose, resolved itself 
 £ntO a. long trance of unconsciousness — the people of the inq 
 
VENDETTA t 23 
 
 where I had been taken ill had at once believed me to be 
 dead of cholera, and with the panic-stricken, indecent haste 
 common in all Italy, especially at a time of plague, had 
 ihrust me into one of those flimsy coffins which were then 
 being manufactured by scores in Naples — mere shells of thin 
 deal, nailed together with clumsy hurry and fear. But how 
 Z blessed their wretched construction ! Had I been laid in 
 d stronger casket, who knows if even the most desperate 
 frenzy of my strength might not have proved unavailing ! I 
 shuddered at the thought. Yet the question remained — - 
 Where was I ? I reviewed my case from all points, and for 
 some time could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion. Stay, 
 though ! I remembered that I had told the monk my name ; 
 he knew that I was the only descendant of the rich Romani 
 family. What followed ? Why, naturally, the good father 
 had only done what his duty called upon him to do. He 
 had seen me laid in the vault of my ancestors — the great 
 Romani vault that had never been opened since my father's 
 body was carried to its last resting-place with all the solemn 
 pomp and magnificence of a wealthy nobleman's funeral 
 obsequies. The more I thought of this the more probable it 
 seemed. The Romani vault ! Its forbidding gloom had ter- 
 rified me as a lad when I followed my father's coffin to the 
 stone niche assigned to it, and I had turned my eyes away in 
 shuddering pain when I was told to look at the heavy oaken 
 casket hung with tattered velvet and ornamented with tar- 
 nished silver, which contained all that was left of my 
 mother, who died young. I had felt sick and faint and 
 cold, and had only recovered myself when I stood out again 
 in the free air with the blue dome of heaven high above me. 
 And now I was shut in the same vault — a prisoner — with what 
 hope of escape ? I reflected. The entrance to the vault, I re- 
 membered, was barred by a heavy door of closely twisted iron 
 — from thence a flight of steep steps led downward — downward 
 to where in all probability I now was. Suppose I could in the 
 dense darkness feel my way to those steps and climb up to that 
 door — of what avail ? It was locked — nay, barred — and as it 
 was situated in & remote part of the burial-ground, there was 
 no likelihood of even the keeper of the cemetery passing by 
 it for days — perhaps not for weeks. Then must I starve ? 
 Or die of thirst ? Tortured by these imaginings, I rose up 
 from the pavement and stood erect. My feet were bare, and 
 the cold stone on which I stood chilled me to the marrow= 
 It was fortunate for me, I thought, that they had buried me 
 
24 VEN-DETTA ! 
 
 as a cholera corpse — they had left me half-clothed for fear of 
 infection. That is, I had my flannel shirt on and my usual 
 walking trousers. Something there was, too, round my neck ; 
 I felt it, and as I did so a flood of sweet and sorrowful mem- 
 ories rushed over me. It was a slight gold chain, and on it 
 hung a locket containing the portraits of my wife and child. 
 I drew it out in the darkness ; I covered it with passionate 
 kisses and tears — the first I had shed since my death-like 
 trance — tears scalding and bitter welled into my eyes. Life 
 was worth living while Nina's smile lightened the world ! I 
 resolved to fight for existence, no matter what dire horrors 
 should be yet in store for me. Nina — my love — my beauti- 
 ful one ! Her face gleamed out upon me in the pestilent 
 gloom of the charnel-house ; her eyes beckoned me — her 
 young faithful eyes that were now, I felt sure, drowned in 
 weeping for my supposed death. I seemed to see my tender- 
 hearted darling sobbing alone in the empty silence of the room 
 iiat had witnessed a thousand embraces between herself and 
 He ; her lovely hair disheveled ; her sweet face pale and hag- 
 gard with the bitterness of grief ! Baby Stella, too, no doubt 
 she would wonder, poor innocent ! why I did not come to 
 swing her as usual under the orange boughs. And Guido — 
 brave and true friend ! I thought of him with tenderness. 
 I felt I knew how deep and lasting would be his honest re- 
 gret for my loss. Oh, I would leave no means of escape un« 
 tried ; I wouid find some way out of this grim vault ! How 
 overjoyed they would all be to see me again — to know that I 
 was not dead after all ! What a welcome I should receive ! 
 How Nina would nestle into my arms ; how my little child 
 would cling to me ; how Guido would clasp me by the hand ! 
 I smiled as I pictured the scene of rejoicing at the dear old 
 villa — the happy home sanctified by perfect friendship and 
 faithful love ! 
 
 A deep hollow sound booming suddenly on my ears startled 
 ^e— one ! two ! three ! I counted the strokes up to twelve. 
 A was some church bell tolling the hour. My pleasing fancies 
 dispersed — I again faced the drear reality of my position. 
 Twelve o'clock ! Midday or midnight ? I could not tell. I 
 began to calculate. It was early morning when I had been 
 taken ill — not much past eight when I had met the monk and 
 sought his assistance for the poor little fruit-seller who had 
 after all perished alone in his sufferings. Now supposing my 
 illness had lasted some hours, I might have fallen into a trance 
 —died — as those around me had thought, somewhere about 
 
VEXDETTAl %$ 
 
 noon. In that case they would certainly have buried me with 
 as little delay as possible — before sunset at all events. Think' 
 ing these points over one by one, I came to the conclusion 
 that the bell I had just heard must have struck midnight— 
 the midnight of the very day of my burial. I shivered ; a 
 kind of nervous dread stole over me. I have always been 
 physically courageous, but at the same time, in spite ofmy edu- 
 cation, I am somewhat superstitious — what Neapolitan is not ? 
 it runs in the southern blood. And there was something un- 
 utterably fearful in the sound of that midnight bell clanging 
 harshly on the ears of a man pent up alive in a funeral vault 
 with the decaying bodies of his ancestors close within reach 
 of his hand ! I tried to conquer my feelings — to summon up 
 my fortitude. I endeavored to reason out the best method 
 of escape. I resolved to feel my way, if possible, to the steps 
 of the vault, and with this idea in my mind I put out my 
 hands and began to move along slowly and with the utmost 
 care. What was that ? I stopped ; I listened ; the blood 
 curdled in my veins ! A shrill cry, piercing, prolonged, and 
 melancholy, echoed through the hollow arches of my tomb, 
 A. cold perspiration broke out all over my body — my heart 
 beat so loudly that I could hear it thumping against my ribs. 
 Again — again — that weird shriek, followed by a whir and flap 
 of wings. I breathed again. 
 
 " It is an owl," I said to myself, ashamed of my fears ; " a 
 poor innocent bird — a c mpanion and watcher of the dead, 
 and therefore its voice is full of sorrowful lamentation — but 
 it is harmless," and I crept on with increased caution. Sud- 
 denly out of the dense darkness there stared two large yellow 
 eyes, glittering with fiendish hu* ger and cruelty. For a mo- 
 ment I was startled, and stepped back ; the creature flew at 
 me with the ferocity of a ger-cat ! I fought with the horri- 
 ble thing in all directions ; it w eeled round my head, it 
 pounced toward my face, it beat me with its large wings — 
 wings that I could feel bu t see ; the yellow eyes alone 
 shone in the thick gloom like the eyes of some vindictive 
 demon ! I struck at it righ anc eft — the revolting combat 
 lasted some moments — I grew sick and dizzy, yet I battled 
 on recklessly. At last, thank Heaven ! the huge owl was van- 
 quished ; it fluttered backward and downward, apparently ex- 
 hausted, giving one wild screech of baffled fury, as its lamp- 
 like eyes disappeared in the darkness. Breathless, but not 
 subdued — every nerve in my body quivering with excitement 
 —I pursued my way, as I thought, toward the stone staircase. 
 
26 VENDETTA t 
 
 feeling the air with my outstretched hands as 1 groped along. 
 In a little while I met with an obstruction — it was hard and 
 cold — a stone wall, surely ? I felt it up and down and found 
 a hollow in it — was this the first step of the stair ? I won 
 dered ; it seemed very high. I touched it cautiously — sud 
 denly I came in contact with something soft and clammy to 
 the touch like moss or wet velvet. Fingering this with a kind 
 of repulsion, I soon traced out the oblong shape of a coffin 
 Curiously enough, I was not affected much by the discovery, 
 I found myself monotonously counting the bits of raised metal 
 which served, as I judged, for its ornamentation. Eight bits 
 lengthwise — and the soft wet stuff between — four bits across ; 
 then a pang shot through me, and I drew my hand away 
 quickly, as I considered — whose coffin was this ? My father's I 
 Or was I thus plucking, like a man in delirium, at the frag- 
 ments of velvet on that cumbrous oaken casket wherein lay 
 the sacred ashes of my mother's perished beauty ? I roused 
 myself from the apathy into which I had fallen. All the pains 
 I had taken to find my way through the vault were wasted , 
 I was lost in the profound gloom, and knew not where to turn, 
 The horror of my situation presented itself to me with re- 
 doubled force. I began to be tormented with thirst. I fell 
 on my knees and groaned aloud. 
 
 " God of infinite mercy I " I cried. " Saviour of the world ! 
 By the souls of the sacred dead whom Thou hast in Thy 
 holy keeping, have pity upon me ! Oh, my mother ! if in- 
 deed thine earthly remains are near me — think of me, sweet 
 angel in that heaven where thy spirit dwells at rest — plead 
 for me and save me, or let me die now and be tortured no 
 more ! " 
 
 I uttered these words aloud, and the sound of my wailing 
 tfoice ringing through the somber arches of the vault was 
 strange and full of fantastic terror to my own ears. I knew 
 that were my agony much further prolonged I should go 
 nad. And I dared not picture to myself the frightful 
 things which a maniac might be capable of, shut up in 
 such a place of death and darkness, with moldering corpses 
 for companions ! I remained on my knees, my face buried 
 in my hands. I forced myself into comparative calmness 
 and strove to preserve the equilibrium of my distracted 
 mind. Hush ! What exquisite far-off floating voice of cheei 
 was that ? I raised my head and listened, entranced ! 
 
 " J u g> j u g> j u S ; lodola, lodola I trill-lil-lil 1 sweet, sweet 
 Bweet 1 " 
 
VENDETTA I Vf 
 
 ft was a nightingale. Familiar, delicious, angel-throated 
 bird ! How I blessed thee in that dark hour of despair 1 
 How I praised God for thine innocent existence ! How I 
 sprung up and laughed and wept for joy, as, all unconscious 
 of me, thou didst shake out a shower of pearly warblings on 
 the breast of the soothed air ! Heavenly messenger of con 
 solation ! — even now I think of thee with tenderness — forth} 
 sweet sake all birds possess me as their worshiper ; humanity 
 has grown hideous in my sight, but the singing-life of the 
 woods and hills — how pure, how fresh ! — the nearest thing 
 to happiness on this side heaven ! 
 
 A rush of strength and courage invigorated me. A new 
 idea entered my brain. I determined to follow the voice 
 of the nightingale. It sung on sweetly, encouragingly — 
 and I began afresh my journeyings through the darkness. 
 I fancied that the bird was perched on one of the trees out* 
 side the entrance of the vault, and that if I tried to get 
 within closer hearing of its voice, I should most likely be 
 thus guided to the very staircase I had been so painfully 
 seeking. I stumbled along slowly. I felt feeble, and my 
 limbs shook under me. This time nothing impeded my 
 progress , the nightingale's liquid notes floated nearer and 
 nearer, and hope, almost exhausted, sprung up again in my 
 heart. I was scarcely conscious of my own movements. I 
 seemed to be drawn along like one in a dream by the golden 
 thread of the bird's sweet singing. All at once I caught my 
 foot against a stone and fell forward with some force, but I 
 felt no pain — my limbs were too numb to be sensible of any 
 fresh suffering. I raised my heavy, aching eyes in the dark- 
 ness ; as I did so I uttered an exclamation of thanksgiving. 
 A slender stream of moonlight, no thicker than the stem of 
 an arrow, slanted downward toward me, and showed me 
 that I had at last reached the spot I sought — in fact, I had 
 fallen upon the lowest step of the stone stairway. I could noi 
 distinguish the entrance door of the vault, but I knew that it 
 must be at the summit of the steep ascent. I was too weary 
 to move further just then. I lay still where I was, staring at 
 the solitary moon-ray, and listening to the nightingale, whose 
 rapturous melodies now rang out upon my ears with full dis- 
 tinctness. One! The harsh-toned bell I had heard before 
 clanged forth the hour. It would soon be morning ; I re- 
 solved to rest till then. Utterly worn out in body and mind, 
 I laid down my head upon the cold stones as readily as if 
 
28 VENDETTA / 
 
 they had been the softest cushions, and in a few moments 
 forgot all my miseries in a profound sleep. 
 
 * TV "7? ^ w TP * 
 
 I must have slumbered for some time, when I was suddenly 
 awakened by a suffocating sensation of f aintness and nausea, 
 accompanied by a sharp pain on my neck as though some 
 creatures were stinging me. I put my hand up to the place 
 — God ! shall I ever forget the feel of the Thing my trem- 
 bling fingers closed upon ! It was fastened in my flesh — a 
 winged, clammy, breathing horror ! It clung to me with a 
 loathly persistency that nearly drove me frantic, and wild 
 with disgust and terror I screamed aloud ! I closed both 
 hands convulsively upon its fat, soft body — I literally tore it 
 from my flesh and flung it as far back as I could into the 
 interior blackness of the vault. For a time I believe I was 
 indeed mad — the echoes rang with the piercing shrieks I 
 could not restrain ! Silent at last through sheer exhaustion 
 I glared about me. The moonbeam had vanished ; in its 
 place lay a shaft of pale gray light, by which I could easily 
 distinguish the whole length of the staircase and the closed 
 gateway at its summit. I rushed up the ascent with the 
 feverish haste of a madman — I grasped the iron grating with 
 both hands and shook it fiercely. It was firm as a rock, 
 locked fast. I called for help. Utter silence answered me. 
 I peered through the closely twisted bars. I saw the grass, 
 the drooping boughs of trees, and straight before my line of 
 vision a little piece of the blessed sky, opal-tinted and faintly 
 blushing with the consciousness of the approaching sunrise. 
 I drank in the sweet fresh air ; a long trailing branch of the 
 wild grape vine hung near me ; its leaves were covered thickly 
 with dew. I squeezed one hand through the grating and 
 gathered a few of these green morsels of coolness — I ate 
 them greedily. They seemed to me more delicious than any- 
 thing I had ever tasted ; they relieved the burning fever of 
 my parched throat and tongue. The glimpse of the trees 
 and sky soothed and calmed me. There was a gentle twit- 
 tering of awaking birds ; my nightingale had ceased singing. 
 
 I began to recover slowly front my nervous terrors, and 
 leaning against the gloomy arch of my charnel-house I took 
 courage to glance backward down the steep stairway 
 up which I had sprung with such furious precipitation. 
 Something white lay in a corner on the seventh step from the 
 top. Curious to see what it was, I descended cautiously, 
 and with some reluctance ; it was the half of a thick waxen 
 
VENDETTA ! 
 
 29 
 
 taper, such as are used in the Catholic ritual at the burial of 
 the dead. No doubt it had been thrown down there by some 
 careless acolyte, to save himself the trouble of carrying it 
 after the service had ended. I looked at it meditatively. If 
 I only had a light ! I plunged my hands half abstractedly 
 into the pockets of my trousers — something jingled ! Truly 
 they had buried me in haste. My purse, a small bunch of 
 keys, my card-case — one by one I drew them out and 
 examined them surprisedly — they looked so familiar, and 
 withal so strange ! I searched again ; and this time found 
 something of real value to one in my condition — a small box 
 of wax vestas. Now, had they left me my cigar-case ? No, 
 that was gone. It was a valuable silver one — no doubt the 
 monk, who attended my supposed last moments, had taken 
 it, together with my watch and chain, to my wife. 
 
 Well, I could not smoke, but I could strike a light. And 
 there was the funeral taper ready for use. The sun had not 
 yet risen. I must certainly wait till broad day before I could 
 hope to attract by my shouts any stray person who might pass 
 through the cemetery. Meanwhile, a fantastic idea suggested 
 itself. I would go and look at my own coffin ! Why not i 
 It would be a novel experience. The sense of fear had 
 entirely deserted me ; the possession of that box of matches 
 was sufficient to endow me with absolute hardihood. I 
 picked up the church-candle and lighted it; it gave at first a 
 feeble flicker, but afterward burned with a clear and steady 
 flame. Shading it with one hand from the draught, I gave a 
 parting glance at the fair daylight that peeped smilingly in 
 through my prison door, and then went down — down again 
 into the dismal place where I had passed the night in such 
 indescribable agony. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Numbers of lizards glided away from my feet as I de- 
 scended the steps, and when the flare of my torch penetrated 
 the darkness I heard a scurrying of wings mingled with 
 various hissing sounds and wild cries. I knew now — none 
 better — what weird and abominable things had habitation in 
 this storehouse of the dead, but I felt I could defy them all, 
 armed with the light I carried. The way that had seemed 
 so long in the dense gloom was brief and easy, and I soon 
 found myself at the scene of my unexpected awakening from 
 
30 VENDETTA I 
 
 sleep. The actual body of the vault was square-shaped, like 
 a small room inclosed within high walls — walls which were 
 scooped out in various places so as to form niches in which 
 the narrow caskets containing the bones of all the departe' 
 members of the Romani family were placed one above the 
 other like so many bales of goods arranged evenly on the 
 shelves of an ordinary warehouse. I held the candle high 
 above my head and looked about me with a morbid interest, 
 I soon perceived what I sought — my own coffin. 
 
 There it was in a niche some five feet from the ground, its 
 splintered portions bearing decided witness to the dreadful 
 struggle I had made to obtain my freedom. I advanced and 
 examined it closely. It was a frail shell enough — unlined, 
 unornamented — a wretched sample of the undertaker's art, 
 though God knows /had no fault to find with its workman- 
 ship, nor with the haste of him who fashioned it. Something 
 shone at the bottom of it — it was a crucifix of ebony and sil- 
 ver. That good monk again ! His conscience had not allowed 
 him to see me buried without this sacred symbol ; he had per- 
 haps laid it on my breast as the last service he could render 
 me ; it had fallen from thence, no doubt, when I had wrenched 
 my way through the boards that inclosed me. I took it and 
 kissed it reverently — I resolved that if ever I met the holy 
 father again, I would tell him my story, and, as a proof of its 
 truth, restore to him this cross, which he would be sure to 
 recognize. Had they put my name on the coffin-lid ? I won- 
 dered. Yes, there it was — painted on the wood in coarse, 
 black letters, " Fabio Romani " — then followed the date of 
 my birth ; then a short Latin inscription, stating that I had 
 died of cholera on August 15, 1884. That was yesterday — 
 only yesterday ! I seemed to have lived a century since then. 
 
 I turned to look at my fathers resting-place. The velvet 
 on his coffin hung from its sides in moldering remnants — but 
 it was not so utterly damp-destroyed and worm-eaten as the 
 soaked and indistinguishable material that still clung to the 
 massive oaken chest in the next niche, where she lay — she from 
 whose tender arms I had received my first embrace — she in 
 whose loving eyes I had first beheld the world ! I knew by a 
 sort of instinct that it must have been with the frayed frag- 
 ments on her coffin that my fingers had idly played in the dark- 
 ness. I counted as before the bits of metal — eight bits length' 
 wise, and four bits across — and on my father's close casket 
 there were ten silver plates lengthwise and five across. My 
 poor little mother I I thought of her picture— it Jiung in roy 
 
VENDETTA1 
 
 3> 
 
 library at home ; the picture of a young, smiling, dark-haired 
 beauty, whose delicate tint was as that of a peach ripening in 
 the summer sun. All that loveliness had decayed into — ■ 
 what ? I shuddered involuntarily — then I knelt humbly before 
 those two sad hollows in the cold stone, and implored the bless 
 ing of the dead and gone beloved ones to whom, while the}, 
 lived, my welfare had been dear. While I occupied this knee! 
 ing position the flame of my torch fell directly on some sma' 
 object that glittered with remarkable luster. I went to exam 
 ine it ; it was a jeweled pendant composed of one large pear 
 shaped pearl, set round with fine rose brilliants ! Surprised at 
 this discovery, I looked about to see where such a valuable 
 gem could possible have come from. I then noticed an unusu- 
 ally large coffin lying sideways on the ground ; it appeared as 
 if it had fallen suddenly and with force, for a number of loose 
 stones and mortar were sprinkled near it. Holding the light 
 close to the ground, I observed that a niche exactly below the 
 one in which /had been laid was empty, and that a consider- 
 able portion of the wall there was broken away. I then re- 
 membered that when I had sprung so desperately out of my 
 narrow box I had heard something fall with a crash besid< ne 
 This was the thing, then — this long coffin, big enough to on- 
 tain a man seven feet high and broad in proportion. \ hat 
 gigantic ancestor had I irreverently dislodged ? — and wus it 
 from a skeleton throat that the rare jewel which I held in my 
 hand had been accidentally shaken ? 
 
 My curiosity was excited, and I bent close to examine the lid 
 of this funeral chest. There was no name on it — no mark ot 
 any sort, save one — a dagger roughly painted in red. Here 
 was a mystery ! I resolved to penetrate it. I set up my can- 
 dle in a little crevice of one of the empty niches, and laid tne 
 pearl and diamond pendant beside it, thus disembarrassing 
 myself of all incumbrance. The huge coffin lay on its side, as 
 I have said ; its uppermost corner was splintered ; I applied 
 both hands to the work of breaking further asunder these 
 already split portions. As I did so a leathern pouch or bag 
 rolled out and fell at my feet. I picked it up and opened it — 
 it was full of gold pieces ! More excited than ever, I seized a 
 large pointed stone, and by the aid of this extemporized instru- 
 ment, together with the force of my own arms, hands, and feet, 
 I managed, after some ten minutes' hard labor, to break open 
 the mysterious casket. 
 
 When I had accomplished this deed I stared at the result 
 Uke a man stupefied. No moldering horror met my gaie — uq 
 
32 VENDETTA! ~ ~ 
 
 blanched or decaying bones ; no grinning skull mocked ifie 
 with its hollow eye-sockets. I looked upon a treasure 
 worthy of an emperor's envy ! The big coffin was literally 
 lined and packed with incalculable wealth. Fifty large 
 leathern bags tied with coarse cord lay uppermost ; more 
 than half of these were crammed with gold coins, the rest 
 were full of priceless gems — necklaces, tiaras, bracelets, 
 watches, chains, and other articles of feminine adornment 
 were mingled with loose precious stones — diamonds, rubies, 
 emeralds, and opals, some of unusual size and luster, some 
 uncut, and some all ready for the jeweler's setting. Beneath 
 these bags were packed a number of pieces of silk, velvet, 
 and cloth of gold, each piece being wrapped by itself in a 
 sort of oil-skin, strongly perfumed with camphor and other 
 spices. There were also three lengths of old lace, fine as 
 gossamer, of matchless artistic design, in perfect condition. 
 Among these materials lay two large trays of solid gold work- 
 manship, most exquisitely engraved and ornamented, also 
 four gold drinking-cups, of quaint and massive construction. 
 Other valuables and curious trifles there were, such as an 
 ivory statuette of Psyche on a silver pedestal, a waistband of 
 coins linked together, a painted fan with a handle set in 
 amber and turquois, a fine steel dagger in a jeweled sheath, 
 and a mirror framed in old pearls. Last, but not least, at 
 the very bottom of the chest lay rolls upon rolls of paper money 
 amounting to some millions of francs — in all far surpassing 
 what I had myself formerly enjoyed from my own revenues. 
 I plunged my hands deep in the leathern bags ; I fingered 
 the rich materials ; all this treasure was mine! I had found 
 it in my own burial vault ! I had surely the right to consider 
 it as my property ? I began to consider — how could it have 
 been placed there without my knowledge ? The answer to 
 this question occurred to me at once. Brigands ! Of course i 
 —what a fool I was not to have thought of them before \ 
 the dagger painted on the lid of the chest should have guided 
 me to the solution of the mystery. A red dagger was the 
 recognized sign-manual of a bold and dangerous brigand 
 named Carmelo Neri, who, with his reckless gang, haunted 
 the vicinity of Palermo. 
 
 " So ! " I thought, " this is one of your bright ideas, my 
 cut-throat Carmelo ! Cunning rogue ! you calculated well — ■ 
 you thought that none would disturb the dead, much less 
 break open a coffin in search of gold. Admirably planned, 
 my Carraelo 1 But this time you must play a losing game 1 
 
VENDETTA ! 33 
 
 A supposed dead man coming to life again deserves some- 
 thing for his trouble, and I should be a fool not to accept the 
 goods the ^ods and the robbers provide. An ill-gotten hoard 
 of wealth, no doubt ; but better in my hands than in yours, 
 friend Carmelo ! " 
 
 And I meditated for some minutes on this strange affair. 
 If, indeed — and I saw no reason to doubt it — I had chanced 
 to find some of the spoils of the redoubtable Neri, this great 
 chest must have been brought over by sea from Palermo. 
 Probably four stout rascals had carried the supposed coffin 
 in a mock solemn procession, under the pretense of ics con- 
 taining the body of a comrade. These thieves have a high 
 sense of humor. Yet the question remained to be solved— 
 How had they gained access to my ancestral vault, unless by 
 means of a false key ? All at once I was left in darkness. 
 My candle went out as though blown upon by a gust of air 
 I had my matches, and of course could easily light it agah\ 
 but I was puzzled to imagine the cause of its sudden extinc 
 tion. I looked about me in the temporary gloom and saw 4 
 to my surprise, a ray of light proceeding from a corner of thft 
 very niche where I had fixed the candle between two stones. 
 I approached and put my hand to the place ; a strong draught 
 blew throught a hole large enough to admit the passage of 
 three fingers. I auickly relighted my torch, and examining 
 this hole and the back of the niche attentively, found that 
 four blocks of granite in the wall had been removed and 
 their places supplied by thick square logs cut from the trunks 
 of trees. These logs were quite loosely fitted. I took them 
 out easily one by one, and then came upon a close pile of 
 brushwood. As I gradually cleared this away a large aper- 
 ture disclosed itself wide enough for any man to pass through 
 without trouble. My heart beat with the rapture of expected 
 liberty ; I clambered up — I looked — thank God ! I saw the 
 landscape — the sky! In two minutes I stood outside the 
 vault on the soft grass, with the high arch of heaven above 
 me, and the broad Bay of Naples glittering deliciously bofore 
 my eyes ! I clapped my hands and shouted tor pure joy ! I 
 was free ! Free to return to life, to love, to the arms of my 
 beautiful Nina — free to resume *he pleasant course of exist- 
 ence on the gladsome earth — free to forget, if I could, the 
 gloomy horrors of my premature burial. If Carmelo Neri 
 had heard the blessings I heaped upon his head — he would 
 for once have deemed himself a saint rather than a brigand. 
 What did I not owe to the glorious ruffian 1 Fortune and 
 3 
 
freedom t for ft was evident that this secret passage into the 
 
 Romani vault had been cunningly contrived by himself or his 
 followers for their own private purposes. Seldom has any man 
 been more grateful to his best benefactor than I was to the 
 famous thief upon whose grim head, as I knew, a price had 
 been set for many months. The poor wretch was in hiding, 
 Well ! the authorities should get no aid from me, I resolved ; 
 even if I were to discover his whereabouts. Why should I 
 betray him ? He had unconsciously done more for me than 
 my best friend. Nay, what friends will you find at all in the 
 world when you need substantial good? Few, or none* 
 Touch the purse — test the heart i 
 
 What castles in the air I built as I stood rejoicing in the 
 morning light and my newly acquired liberty — what dreams 
 of perfect happiness flitted radiantly before my fancy I Nina 
 and I would love each other more fondly than before, I 
 thought — our separation had been brief, but terrible — and 
 the idea of what it might have been would endear us to one 
 another with tenfold fervor. And little Stella ! Why — this 
 very evening I would swing her again under the orange 
 boughs and listen to her sweet shrill laughter I This very 
 evening I would clasp Guido's hand in a gladness too great 
 for words I This very night my wife's fair head would lid 
 pillowed on my breast in an ecstatic silence broken only by the 
 music of kisses. Ah I my brain grew dizzy with the joyful 
 visions that crowded thickly and dazzlingly upon me I The 
 sun had risen — his long straight beams, like golden spears, 
 touched the tops of the green trees, and roused little flashes 
 as of red and blue fire on the shining surface of the bay. I 
 heard the rippling of water and the measured soft dash of 
 oars ; and somewhere from a distant boat the mellifluous 
 *oice of a sailor sung a verse of the popular riier ncifo 
 
 m Scion it amenta 
 StaparoUUa vita tieuT tmtmmm, 
 
 Zompa UartUirat 
 Sciort Umonel 
 JU vogiiofa mori dtpassiom 
 
 Zompa UartUirat*** 
 
 I smiled— w Mori depassione t * Nina and I would know 
 the meaning of those sweet words when the moon rose and 
 the nightin^les sung their love-songs to the dreaming flowers \ 
 Full of these happy fancies, I inhaled the pure morning W 
 for some minutes, and then re-entered the vault 
 
 Ahteefc 
 
rmiH>MTT*j i 
 
 CHAPTER ¥. 
 
 Thb first thing I did was to repack all the treasures I ha* 
 discovered. This work was easily accomplished. For th* 
 present I contented myself with taking two of the leathern 
 bags for my own use, one full of gold pieces, the other of 
 jewels. The chest had been strongly made, and was not 
 much injured by being forced open. I closed its lid as tight* 
 ly as possible, and dragged it to a remote and dark corner of 
 the vault, where I placed three heavy stones upon it. I then 
 took the two leathern pouches I had selected:, and stuffed 
 one in each of the pockets of my trousers. The action 
 reminded me of the scantiness of attire in which I stood 
 arrayed. Could I be seen in the public roads in such a 
 
 E light ? I examined my purse, which, as I before stated, had 
 een left to me, together with my keys and card-case, by the 
 terrified persons who had huddled me into my coffin with 
 such scant ceremony. It contained two twenty-franc pieces 
 and some loose silver. Enough to buy a decent costume of 
 some sort But where could I make the purchase, and how ? 
 Must I wait till evening and slink out of this charnel-house 
 like the ghost of a wretched criminal ? No 1 come what 
 would, I made up my mind not to linger a moment longer 
 in the vault The swarms of beggars that infest Naples 
 exhibit themselves in every condition of rags, dirt, and 
 misery ; at the very worst I could only be taken for one of 
 them. And whatever difficulties I might encounter, no mat- 
 ter I — they would soon be oven 
 
 Satisfied that I had placed the brigand coffin in a safe 
 position, I secured the pearl and diamond pendant I had 
 first found, to the chain round my neck. I intended this 
 ornament as a gift for my wife. Then, once more climbing 
 through the aperture, I closed it completely with the 
 logs and brushwood as it was before, and examining it narrow- 
 ly from the outside, I saw that it was utterly impossible to 
 discern the smallest hint of any entrance to a subterranean 
 passage, so well and cunningly had it been contrived. Now, 
 nothing more remained for me to do but to make the best 
 of my way to the city, there to declare my identity, obtain 
 food and clothes, and then to hasten with all possible speed 
 to my own residence. 
 Standing on a little hillock, I looked about «a to see which 
 
directloii I should take. The cemetery was situated on tint 
 outskirts of Naples — Naples itself lay on my left hand I 
 perceived a^ sloping road winding in that direction, and 
 judged that if I followed it it would lead me to the city sub- 
 urbs. Without further hesitation I commenced my walk. 
 It was now full day. My bare feet sunk deep in the dust that 
 was hot as desert sand — the blazing sun beat down fiercely 
 on my uncovered head, but I felt none of these discomforts ; 
 my heart was too full of gladness. I could have sung aloud 
 Tor delight as I stepped swiftly along toward home — and Nina I 
 I was aware of a great weakness in my iimbs — my eyes and 
 head ached with the strong dazzling light; occasional^ too, 
 an icy shiver ran through me that made my teeth chatter. 
 But I recognized these symptoms as the after effects of my 
 so nearly fatal illness, and I paid no heed to them, A few 
 weeks' rest under my wife's loving care, and I knew I should 
 be as well as ever. I stepped on bravely. For some time | 
 met no one, but at last I overtook a small cart laden wita 
 freshly gathered grapes. The driver lay on his seat asleep; 
 his pony meanwhile cropped the green herbage by the road- 
 side, and every now and then shook the jingling bells on hfa 
 harness as though expressing the satisfaction he felt at bekg 
 left to his own devices. The piled-up grapes looked temp- 
 ing, and I was both hungry and thirsty. I laid a hand c& 
 the sleeping man's shoulder ; he awoke with a start 8m> 
 ing me, his face assumed an expression of the wildest tenc?; 
 he jumped from his cart and sunk down on his knees in t&a 
 dust, imploring me by the Madonna, St. Joseph, and all $fet 
 saints to spare his life. I laughed ; his fears seemed to wm 
 ludicrous. Surely there was nothing alarming about mm fe@» 
 yond my paucity of clothing. 
 
 "Get up, man!" I said. "I want nothing of you ta& £ 
 few grapes, and for them I will pay." And I held o*i W 
 him a couple of francs. He rose from the dust, still tssgfr 
 bling and eying me askance with evident suspicion, took 9&h 
 eral bunches of the purple fruit, and gave them to me witno«& 
 saying a word. Then, pocketing the money I proffered, fet 
 sprung into his cart, and lashing his pony till the tmfotOMti 
 animal plunged and reared with pain and fury, rattled <bM 
 down the road at such a break-neck speed that I saw nam- 
 ing but a whirling blot of wheels disappearing in the distance 
 I was amused at the absurdity of this man's terror. Whsi 
 did he take me for, I wondered ? A ghost or a brigand ? I 
 ate my grapes leisurely as I walked along— they were deli* 
 
VENDETTA / 37 
 
 ciously cool and refreshing — food and wine in one. I met 
 several other persons as I neared the city, market people and 
 venders of ices — but they took no note of me — in fact, I 
 avoided them all as much as possible. On reaching the 
 surburbs I turned into the first street I saw that seemed 
 likely to contain a few shops. It was close and dark and 
 foul-smelling, but I had not gone far down it when I came 
 upon the sort of place I sought — a wretched tumble-down 
 hovel, with a partly broken window, through which a shabby 
 array of second-hand garments were to be dimly perceived, 
 strung up for show on pieces of coarse twine. It was one 
 of those dirty dens where sailors, returning from long voy- 
 ages, frequently go to dispose of the various trifles they have 
 picked up in foreign countries, so that among the forlorn 
 specimens of second-hand wearing apparel many quaint and 
 curious objects were to be seen, such as shells, branches of 
 rough coral, strings of beads, cups and dishes carved out of 
 cocoa-nut, dried gourds, horns of animals, fans, stuffed para- 
 keets, and old coins — while a grotesque wooden idol peered 
 hideously forth from between the stretched-out portions of a 
 pair of old nankeen trousers, as though surveying the miscel- 
 laneous collection in idiotic amazement. An aged man sat 
 smoking at the open door of this promising habitation — a 
 true specimen of a Neapolitan grown old. The skin of his 
 face was like a piece of brown parchment scored all over with 
 deep furrows and wrinkles, as though Time, disapproving of 
 the history he had himself penned upon it, had scratched 
 over and blotted out all records, so that no one should hence- 
 forth be able to read what had once been clear writing. The 
 only animation left in him seemed to have concentrated itself 
 in his eyes, wh. were black and bead-like, and roved hither 
 and thither with a glance of ever-restless and ever-suspicious 
 inquiry. He saw me coming toward him, but he pretended 
 to be absorbed in a profound study of the patch of blue sky 
 that gleamed between the closely leaning houses of the nar- 
 row street. I accosted him — and he brought his gaze 
 swiftly down to my level, and stared at me with keen inquisi- 
 tiveness. 
 
 " I have had a long tramp," I said, briefly, for he was not 
 the kind of man to whom I could explain my recent terrible 
 adventure, " and I have lost some of my clothes by an acci- 
 dent on the way. Can you sell me a suit ? Anything will 
 do — I am not particular." 
 
 The old man took his pipe from his mouth. 
 
u Do you fear the plague ?"he asked. 
 
 M I have just recovered from an attack of it, 1 I replied 
 
 coolly* 
 
 He looked at me attentively from head to foot, and then 
 broke into a low chuckling laugh, 
 
 ** Ha I ha ! " he muttered, half to himself, half to me, 
 44 Good — good I Here is one like myself — not afraid — not 
 afraid ! We are not cowards. We ao not find fault witfc 
 the blessed saints — they send the plague. The beautiful 
 plague ! — I love it I I buy all the clothes I can get that are 
 taken from the corpses — they are nearly always excellent 
 clothes I never clean them — I sell them again at once— yes 
 — yes I Why not ? The people must die — the sooner the 
 better I I help the good God as much as I can." And the 
 old blasphemer crossed himself devoutly. 
 
 I looked down upon him from where I stood drawn up to 
 my full height, with a glance of disgust. He filled me with 
 something of the same repulsion I had felt when I touched 
 the unnameable Thing that fastened on my neck while I 
 slept in the vault 
 
 ** Come I " I said, somewhat roughly, " will you sell me a 
 suitor no?" 
 
 u Yes, yes I M and he rose stiffly from his seat ; he was very 
 short of stature, and so bent with age and infirmity that he 
 looked more like the crooked bough of a tree than a man, as 
 he hobbled before me into his dark shop. " Come inside, 
 come inside I Take your choice ; there is enough here to 
 suit all tastes. See now, what would you ? Behold here the 
 dress of a gentleman, ah 1 what beautiful cloth, what strong 
 wool! English make? Yes, yes! He was English that 
 wore it ; a big, strong milord, that drank beer and brandy 
 like water — and rich — just heaven! — how rich I But the 
 plague took him ; he died cursing God, and calling bravely 
 for more brandy. Ha, ha I a fine death — a splendid death i 
 His landlord sold me his clothes for three francs — one, two, 
 three — but you must give me six ; that is fair profit, is it not } 
 And I am old and poor. I must make something to live upon.* 
 
 I threw aside the tweed sui* he displayed for my inspec- 
 tion. " Nay," I said, " I care nothing for the plague, but 
 find me something better than the cast-off clothing of a 
 brandy-soaked Englishman. I would rather wear the motley 
 garb of a fellow who played the fo«l in carnival" 
 
 The old dealer laughed with a crackling sound in hit with 
 sract ttoott ta like th© rattling of $tone& in & tin poc 
 
VENDETTA! 39 
 
 " Good, good ! " he croaked. " I like that, I like that ! 
 Thou art old, but thou art merry. That pleases me ; one 
 should laugh always. Why not ? Death laughs ; you never 
 see a solemn skull ; it laughs always ! " 
 
 And he plunged his long lean fingers into a deep drawer 
 full of miscellaneous garments, mumbling to himself all the 
 while. I stood beside him in silence, pondering on his words 5 
 " Thou art o/d, but merry." What did he mean by calling 
 me old ? He must be blind, I thought, or in his dotage. 
 Suddenly he looked up. 
 
 " Talking of the plague," he said, " it is not always wise. 
 It did a foolish thing yesterday — 1 very foolish thing. It 
 took one of the richest men in the neighborhood, young too, 
 strong and brave ; looked as if he would never die. The 
 plague touched him in the morning — before sunset he was 
 nailed up and put down in his big family vault — a cold lodg- 
 ing, and less handsomely furnished than his grand marble 
 villa on the heights yonder. When I heard the news I told 
 the Madonna she was wicked. Oh, yes ! I rated her soundly ; 
 she is a woman, and capricious ; a good scolding brings her to 
 reason. Look you ! I am a friend to God and the plague, 
 but they both did a stupid thing when they took Count Fabio 
 Romani." 
 
 I started, but quickly controlled myself into an appearance 
 of indifference. 
 
 " Indeed ! " I said, carelessly. " And pray who was he 
 that he should not deserve to die as well as other peo- 
 ple?" 
 
 The old man raised himself from his stooping attitude, 
 and stared at me with his keen black eyes. 
 
 " W 7 ho was he ? who was he ? " he cried, in a shrill tone. 
 " Oh, he ! One can see you know nothing of Naples. You 
 have not heard of the rich Romani ? See you, I wished him 
 to live. He was clever and bold, but I did not grudge him 
 that — no, he was good to the poor ; he gave away hundreds 
 of francs in charity. I have seen him often — I saw him mar- 
 ried." And here his parchment face screwed itself into 
 an expression of the most malignant cruelty. " Pah ! I 
 hate his wife — a fair, soft thing, like a white snake ! I used 
 to watch them both from the corners of the streets as they 
 drove along in their fine carriage, and I wondered how it 
 would all end, whether he or she would gain the victory first. 
 I wanted him to win ; I would have helped him to kill her, 
 yes 1 But the saints have made a mistake this time, for he 
 
is dead, and that sfce-devfl has all, Oh, yes! God nod the 
 plague have done a foolish thing for once." 
 
 I listened to the old wretch with deepening aversion, yet 
 with some curiosity too. Why should he hate my wife f I 
 thought, unless, indeed, he hated all youth and beauty, as 
 was probably the case. And if he had seen me as often as 
 he averred he must know me by sight How was it then 
 that he did not recognize me now ? Following out tfels 
 thought, I said aloud : 
 
 " What sort of looking man was this Count Romani ? You 
 say he was handsome — was he tall or short — dark or fair ? w 
 
 Putting back his straggling gray locks from his forehead, the 
 dealer stretched out a yellow, claw-like hand, as though 
 pointing to some distant vision. 
 
 M A beautiful man I n he exclaimed ; ** a man good for the 
 eyes to see I As straight as you are ! — as tail as you are I— 
 as broad as you are II But your eyes are sunken and dim— « 
 his were full and large and sparkling. Your face is drawn 
 and pale — his was of a clear olive tint, round and flushed with 
 health ; and his hair was glossy black — ah ! as jet-black, my 
 friend, as yours is snow-white f n 
 
 I recoiled from these last words in a sort of terror ; they were 
 like an electric shock I Was I indeed so changed ? Was it 
 possible that the horrors of a night in the vault had made 
 such a dire impression upon me ? My hair white ? — mine I 1 
 could hardly believe it If so, perhaps Nina would not rec- 
 ognize me — she might be terrified at my aspect — Guido 
 himself might have doubts of my identity. Though, for that 
 matter, I could easily prove myself to be indeed Fabio 
 Romani — even if I had to show the vault and my own sun- 
 dered coffin. While I revolved all this in my mind the old man 
 unconscious of my emotion, went on with his mumbling chatter. 
 
 ** Ah, yes, yes ! He was a fine fellow — a strong fellow. I 
 ased to rejoice that he was so strong. He could have taken 
 the little throat of his wife between finger and thumb and 
 nipped it — so! and she would have told no more lies. I 
 wanted him to do it — I waited for it He would have done 
 it surely, had he lived That is why I am sorry he died." 
 
 Mastering my feelings by a violent effort, I forced myself 
 to speak calmly to this malignant old brute. 
 
 " Why do you hate the Countess Romani so much f n 1 
 asked him with sternness. " Has she done you any harm ? ■ 
 
 He straightened himself as much as he was able and looked 
 
VENDETTA t 41 
 
 " See you ! n he answered, with a sort of leering laugh 
 about the corners of his wicked mouth. " I will tell you why 
 I hate her — yes — I will tell you, because you are a man and 
 strong. I like strong men — they are sometimes fooled by 
 women, it is true — but then they can take revenge. I was 
 strong myself once. And you — you are old — but you love a 
 jest — you will understand. The Romani woman has done 
 me no harm. She laughed — once. That was when hei 
 horses knocked me down in the street. I was hurt — but 1 
 saw her red lips widen and her white teeth glitter — she has 
 a baby smile — the people will tell you — so innocent ! I was 
 picked up — her carriage drove on — her husband was not with 
 her — he would have acted differently. But it is no matter — 
 I tell you she laughed — and then I saw at once the likeness." 
 
 " The likness 1 " I exclaimed impatiently, for his story an 
 noyed me. " What likeness ? " 
 
 " Between her and my wife," the dealer replied, fixing his 
 cruel eyes upon me with increasing intensity of regard. " Oh, 
 yes I I know what love is. I know too that God had very 
 little to do with the making of women. It was a long time 
 before even He could find the Madonna. Yes — yes, I know 1 
 
 1 tell you I married a thing as beautiful as a morning in 
 spring-time — with a little head that seemed to droop like a 
 flower under its weight of sunbeam hair — and eyes ! ah — like 
 those of a tiny child when it looks up and asks you for kisses. 
 
 2 was absent once — I returned and found her sleeping tran- 
 quilly — yes ! on the breast of a black-browed street-singer 
 from Venice — a handsome lad enough and brave as a young 
 lion. He saw me and sprung at my throat — I held him down 
 and knelt upon his chest — she woke and gazed upon us, too 
 terrified to speak or scream — she only shivered and made a 
 little moaning sound like that of a spoiled baby. I looked 
 down into her prostrate lover's eyes and smiled. ' I will 
 not hurt you,' I said. * Had she not consented, you could 
 not have gained the victory. All I ask of you is to remain 
 here for a few moments longer/ He stared, but was mute. 
 I bound him hand and foot so that he could not stir. Then 
 I took my knife and went to her. Her blue eyes glared wide 
 — imploringly she turned them upon me — and ever she wrung 
 her small hands and shivered and moaned. I plunged the 
 keen bright blade deep through her soft white flesh — her 
 lover cried out in agony — her heart's blood welled up in a 
 crimson tid«, staining with a bright hue the white garments 
 she wore ; she flung up her arms — she sank back on her pil 
 
*i VENDETTA! 
 
 Jows — dead. I drew the knife from her body, and with it 
 G&t the bonds of the Venetian boy. I then gave it to him. 
 
 1 ■ Take it as a remembrance of her,' I said. ' In a 
 month she would have betrayed you as she betrayed me. ' " 
 
 He raged like a madman. He rushed out and called the 
 gendarmes. Of course I was tried for murder — but it was 
 not murder — it was justice. The judge found extenuating cir 
 cumstances. Naturally ! He had a wife of his own. He 
 understood my case. Now you know why I hate that dainty 
 jeweled woman up at the Villa Romani. She is just like that 
 other one — that creature I slew — she has just the same slow 
 smile and the same child-like eyes. I tell you again, I am 
 sorry her husband is dead — it vexes me sorely to think of it. 
 For he would have killed her in time — yes I — of that I am 
 quite sure ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I listened to his narrative with a pained feeling at my 
 heart, and a shuddering sensation as of icy cold ran through 
 my veins. Why, I had fancied that all who beheld Nina 
 must, perforce, love and admire her, True, when this old 
 man was accidentally knocked down by her horses (a cir- 
 cumstance she had never mentioned to me), it was careless 
 of her not to stop and make inquiry as to the extent of his 
 injuries, but she was young and thoughtless ; she could not 
 be intentionally heartless. I was horrified to think that she 
 should have made such an enemy as even this aged and 
 poverty-stricken wretch ; but I said nothing. I had no wish 
 to betray myself. He waited for me to speak and grew im- 
 patient at my silence. 
 
 " Say now, my friend ! n he queried, with a sort of childish 
 eagerness, " did I not take a good vengeance ? God himself 
 could not have done better ! " 
 
 " I think your wife deserved her fate," I said, curtly, " but 
 I cannot say I admire you for being her murderer." 
 
 He turned upon me rapidly, throwing both hands above 
 his head with a frantic gesticulation. His voice rose to a 
 kind of muffled shriek. 
 
 " Murderer you call me — ha ! ha ! that is good. No, no ! 
 She murdered me! I tell you I died when I saw her asleep 
 in her lover's arms — she killed me at one blow. A. devil 
 rose up in my body and took swift revenge ; that devil is in 
 
VENDETTA I 43 
 
 me now, a brave devil, a strong devil ! That is why I do not 
 fear the plague ; the devil in me frightens away death. Some 
 day it will leave me " — here his smothered yell sunk gradually 
 to a feeble, weary tone ; "yes, it will leave me and I shall 
 tind a dark place where I can sleep ; I do not sleep much 
 now." He eyed me half wistfully. 
 
 " You see," he explained, almost gently, " my memory is 
 Very good, and when one thinks of many things one cannot 
 sleep. It is many years ago, but every night I see her ; she 
 comes to me wringing her little white hands, her blue eyes 
 stare, I hear short moans of terror. Every night, every 
 night ! " He paused, and passed his hands in a bewildered 
 way across his forehead. Then, like a man suddenly wak- 
 ing from sleep, he stared as though he saw me now for the 
 first time, and broke into a low chuckling laugh. 
 
 " What a thing, what a thing it is, the memory ! " he mut- 
 tered. " Strange — strange ! See, I remembered all that, 
 and forgot you ! But I know what you want — a suit of 
 clothes — yes, you need them badly, and I also need the 
 money for them. Ha, ha ! And you will not have the fine 
 coat of Milord Inglese ! No, no 1 I understand. I will find 
 you something — patience, patience ! " 
 
 And he began to grope among a number of things that 
 were thrown in a confused heap at the back of the shop. 
 While in this attitude he looked so gaunt and grim that he 
 reminded me of an aged vulture stooping over carrion, and 
 yet there was something pitiable about him too. In a way I 
 was sorry for him ; a poor half-witted wretch, whose life had 
 been full of such gall and wormwood. What a different fate 
 was his to mine, I thought, /had endured but one short 
 night of agony ; how trifling it seemed compared to his 
 hourly remorse and suffering ! He hated Nina for an act of 
 thoughtlessness ; well, no doubt she was not the only woman 
 whose existence annoyed him ; it was most probable that he 
 was at enmity with all women. I watched him pityingly as 
 he searched among the worn-out garments which were his 
 stock-in-trade, and wondered why Death, so active in smiting 
 down the strongest in the city, should have thus cruelly 
 passed by this forlorn wreck of human misery, for whom the 
 grave would have surely been a most welcome release and 
 rest. He turned round at last with an exulting gesture. 
 
 M I have found it 1 " he exclaimed. " The very thing to 
 suit you. You are perhaps a coral-fisher ? You will like a 
 fisherman's dress., Here is one. red sash, cap and all, in 
 
m wmtmtmr 
 
 beaotttt£ unxf&mi He that wore H was about ymk 
 
 height ; it will fit you as well as it fitted him ; and, look you I 
 the plague is not in it ; the sea has soaked through and 
 through it ; it smells of the sand and weed." 
 
 He spread out the rough garb before me. I glanced at It 
 carelessly. 
 
 M Did thi |£fe*f m^ t IN £> «M*1" _ t - asked, with* 
 * light smii*. 
 
 The old rag-picker shook his head and mads a sign witfc 
 feis outspread fingers expressive of contempt 
 
 u Not he t— He was a fool. He killed himself." 
 
 * How was that ? By accident or design ? " 
 
 " Ckk t Chb / He knew very well what he was doing. It 
 tappened only two months since It was for the sake of a 
 biack-eyed jade ; she lives and laughs all daylong up at Sor- 
 rento. He had been on a long voyage ; ne brought her 
 pearls for her throat and coral pins for her hair. She had 
 promised to marry him. He had just landed ; he met her 
 on the quay ; he offered her the pearl and coral trinkets. 
 She threw them back and told him she was tired of him. 
 Just that — nothing more. He tried to soften her ; she raged 
 at him like a tiger-cat Yes, I was one of the little crowd 
 that stood round them on the quay ; I saw it all. Her black 
 eyds flashed, she stamped and bit her lips at him, her ful! 
 bosom heaved as though it would burst her laced bodice. 
 She was only a market-girl, but she gave herself the airs of 
 a queen f i am tired of you I * she said to him. * Go 1 1 
 wish to see you no more.' He was tall and well-made, a 
 powerful fellow ; but he staggered- his face grew pale, his 
 lips quivered. He bent his head a little — turned — and be- 
 fore any hand could stop him he sprung from the edge of 
 the quay into the waves ; they closed over his head, for he 
 iid not try to swim ; he just sunk down, down, like a stone. 
 Next day his body came ashore, and I bought his clothes 
 for two francs ; you shall have them for four." 
 
 M And what became of the girl ? " I asked. 
 
 M Oh, ike / She laughs all day long, as I told you. She 
 &as a new lover every week. What should the care ? n 
 
 J drew out my purse, U I will take this suit," I said, 
 M You ask four francs, here are six, but for the extra two 
 yen must show me some private corner where I can dress.* 
 
 ** Yes, yes. But certainly I " and the old fellow trembled 
 && over with avaricious eagerness as I counted the sflvet 
 qfemWfrh& m$md pe% * ^AjaytbdngtooWigeagBoef 
 
VENDETTA! 45 
 
 cms stranger ! There is the place I sleep in ; it is not much, 
 
 but there is a mirror — her mirror — the only thing I keep of 
 hers ; come this way, come this way ! " 
 
 And stumbling hastily along, almost falling over the disor* 
 dered bundles of clothing that lay about in all directions, he 
 opened a little door that seemed to be cut in the wall, and 
 Jed me into a kind of close cupboard, smelling most vilely, 
 and furnished with a miserable pallet bed and one broken 
 chair. A small square pane of glass admitted light enough 
 to see all that there was to be seen, and close to this ex* 
 temporized window hung the mirror alluded to, a beautiful 
 thing set in silver of antique workmanship, the costliness of 
 which I at once recognized, though into the glass itself I 
 dared not for the moment look. The old man showed me 
 with some pride that the door to this narrow den of his locked 
 from within. 
 
 " I made the lock and key, and fitted it all myself," he 
 said. *' Look how neat and strong ! Yes ; I was clever 
 once at all that work — it was my trade — till that morning 
 when I found her with the singer from Venice ; then I for- 
 got all I used to know — it went away somehow, I could never 
 understand why. Here is the fisherman's suit ; you can take 
 your time to put it on } fasten the door ; the room is at your 
 service/' 
 
 And he nodded several times in a manner that was meant 
 co be friendly, and left me. I followed his advice at once 
 and locked myself in. Then I stepped steadily to the mirror 
 hanging on the wall, and looked at my own reflection. A 
 bitter pang shot through me. The dealer's sight was good, 
 he had said truly. I was old ! If twenty years of suffering 
 had passed over my head, they could hardly have changed 
 me more terribly. My illness had thinned my face and 
 marked it with deep lines of pain . m^* eyes had retreated 
 far back into my head, while a certain wildness of expres- 
 sion in them bore witness to the terrors I had suffered in. 
 the vault, and to crown all, my hair was indeed perfectly 
 white. I understood now the alarm of the man who had 
 sold me grapes on the highway that morning ; my appear- 
 ance was strange enough to startle any one. Indeed, I 
 scarcely recognized myself. Would my wife, would Guido 
 recognize me ? Almost I doubted it. This thought was so 
 painful to me that the tears sprung to my eyes. I brushed 
 them away in haste. 
 
 w Fy on thee, Fabio ! Be a man 1 " I said* addressing 
 
46 VENDETTA / 
 
 myself angrily. " Of what matter after all whether hairs are 
 black or white ? What matter how the face changes, so long 
 as the heart is true ? For a moment, perhaps, thy love may 
 grow pale at sight of thee ; but when she knows of thy suffer* 
 ings, wilt thou not be dearer to her than ever ? Will not one 
 of her soft embraces recompense thee for all thy past anguish, 
 and suffice to make thee young again ? " 
 
 And thus encouraging my sinking spirits, I quickly arrayed 
 myself in the Neapolitan coral-fisher's garb. The trousers 
 were very loose, and were provided with two long deep pockets, 
 convenient receptacles, which easily contained the leathern 
 bags of gold and jewels I had taken from the brigand's coffin. 
 When my hasty toilet was completed I took another glance at 
 the mirror, this time with a half smile. True, I was greatly 
 altered ; but after all I did not look so bad. The fisherman's 
 picturesque costume became me well ; the scarlet cap sat jaun- 
 tily on the snow-white curls that clustered so thickly over my 
 forehead, and the consciousness I had of approaching happi- 
 ness sent a little of the old fearless luster back into my sunken 
 eyes. Besides, I knew I should not always have this care-worn 
 and wasted appearance ; rest, and perhaps a change of air, 
 would infallibly restore the roundness to my face and the fresh- 
 ness to my complexion ; even my white locks might return to 
 their pristine color, such things had been ; and supposing they 
 remained white ? well ! — there were many who would admire 
 the peculiar contrast between a young man's face and an old 
 man's hair. 
 
 Having finished dressing, I unlocked the door of the stuffy 
 little cabin and called the old rag-picker. He came shuf- 
 fling along with his head bent, but raising his eyes as he 
 approached me, he threw up his hands in astonishment, 
 exclaiming, 
 
 " Santissima Madonna 1 But you are a fine man — a fine 
 man ! Eh, eh I Holy Joseph I What height and breadth ! 
 A pity — a pity you are old ; you must have been strong when 
 you were young I " 
 
 Half in joke, and half to humor him in his fancy for mere 
 muscular force, I rolled up the sleeve of my jacket to the 
 shoulder, saying, lightly, 
 
 " Oh, as for being strong I There is plenty of strength in 
 me still, you see." 
 
 He stared ; laid his yellow fingers on my bared arm with 
 a kind of ghoul-like interest and wonder, and felt the muscle* 
 of it with childish, almost maudlin admiration. 
 
VENDETTA t /f 
 
 '* Beautiful, beautiful ! " he mumbled. " Like iron — just 
 think of it ! Yes, yes. You could kill anything easily. Ah ! 
 I used to be like that once. I was clever at sword-play, i 
 could, with well-tempered steel, cut asunder a seven-times* 
 folded piece of silk at one blow without fraying out a thread. 
 Yes, as neatly as one cuts butter ! You could do that too if 
 you liked. It all lies in the arm — the brave arm that kills at 
 a single stroke." 
 
 And he to azed at me intently with his small blear eyes as 
 hough anxious to know more of my character and tempera- 
 dajnt. I turned abruptly from him, and called his attention 
 to ny own discarded garments. 
 
 " See," I said, carelessly ; " you can have these, though 
 they are not of much value. And, stay, here are another 
 three francs for some socks and shoes, which I dare say you 
 can find to suit me." 
 
 He clasped his hands ecstatically, and poured out a torrent 
 of thanks and praises for this additional and unexpected sum, 
 and protesting by all the saints that he and the entire contents 
 of his shop were at the service of so generous a stranger, he 
 at once produced the articles I asked for. I put them on — 
 and then stood up thoroughly equipped and ready to make 
 my way back to my own home when I chose. But I had re- 
 solved on one thing. Seeing that I was so greatly changed, 
 I determined not to go to the Villa Romani by daylight, lest I 
 should startle my wife too suddenly. Women are delicate ; 
 my unexpected appearance might give her a nervous shock 
 which perhaps would have serious results. I would wait till 
 the sun had set, and then go up to the house by a back way 
 I knew of, and try to get speech with one of the servants. I 
 might even meet my friend Guido Ferrari, and he would 
 break the joyful news of my return from death to Nina by 
 degrees, and also prepare her for my altered looks. While 
 these thoughts flitted rapidly through my brain, the old rag- 
 picker stood near me with his head on one side like a medi* 
 tative raven, and regarded me intently. 
 
 " Are you going far ? " he asked at last, with a kind of 
 timidity. 
 
 *' Yes," I answered him, abruptly; "very far." 
 
 He laid a detaining hand on my sleeve, and his eyes glit- 
 tered with a malignant expression. 
 
 " Tell me," he muttered, eagerly, " tell me — I wiU keep 
 *he secret. Are you going to a woman ? n 
 
48 VENDETTA! 
 
 I looked down upon him, half in disdain, half in amusement 
 " Yes ! " I said, quietly ; " I am going to a woman." 
 He broke into silent laughter — hideous laughter that con- 
 torted his visage and twisted his body in convulsive writh- 
 ings. 
 
 I glanced at him in disgust, and shaking off his hand from 
 my arir\ I made my way to the door of the shop. He hobbled 
 luickl) after me, wiping away the moisture that his inward 
 nerriment had brought into his eyes. 
 
 " Going to a woman ! " he croaked. " Ha, ha 1 You are 
 not the first, nor will you be the last, that has gone so ! Going 
 to a woman ! that is well — that is good ! Go to her, go ! You 
 are strong ; you have a brave arm ! Go to her ; find her out, 
 and — kill her ! Yes, yes — you will be able to do it easily — ■ 
 quite easily I Go and kill her ! " 
 
 He stood at his low door mouthing and pointing, his stunted 
 figure and evil face reminding me of one of Heinrich Heine's 
 dwarf devils who are depicted as piling fire on the heads of 
 the saints. I bade him " Good-day " in an indifferent tone, 
 but he made me no answer. I walked slowly away. Look- 
 ing back once I saw him still standing an the threshold of his 
 wretched dwelling, his wicked mouth working itself into all 
 manner of grimaces, while with his crooked fingers he made 
 signs in the air as if he caught an invisible something and 
 throttled it. I went on down the street and out of it into 
 the broader thoroughfares, with his last words ringing in my 
 ears, "go and kill her! " 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 That day seemed very long to me. I wandered aimlessly 
 ibout the city, seeing few faces that I knew, for the wealthiei 
 nhabitants, afraid of the cholera, had either left the place 
 together or remained closely shut within their own houses 
 Everywhere I went something bore witness to the terrible 
 ravages of the plague. At almost every corner I met a funeral 
 procession. Once I came upon a group of men who were 
 standing in an open door-way packing a dead body into a 
 coffin too small for it. There was something truly revolting 
 in the way they doubled up the arms and legs and squeezed 
 in the shoulders of the deceased man — one could hear the 
 ^ ones crack, I watched the brutal proceedings for a minute 
 * r .so, and then I said aloud % 
 
VENDETTA I 49 
 
 You had better make sure he is quite dead," 
 The beccamorti looked at me in surprise ; one laughed grimly 
 and swore. * By the body of God, if I thought he were nut 
 I would twist his accursed neck for him 1 But the cholera 
 never fails, he is dead for certain — see ! " And he knocked 
 the head of the corpse to and fro against the sides of the 
 coffin with no more compunction than if it had been a block 
 of wood. Sickened at the sight, I turned away and said no 
 more. On reaching one of the more important thoroughfares 
 I perceived several knots of people collected, who glanced at 
 one another with eager yet shamed faces, and spoke in low 
 voices. A whisper reached my ears, " The king ! the king ! " 
 All heads were turned in one direction * I paused and looked 
 also. Walking at a leisurely pace, accompanied by a few 
 gentlemen of earnest mien and grave deportment, I saw the 
 fearless monarch, Humbert of Italy — he whom his subjects 
 delight to honor. He was making a round of visits to all the 
 vilest holes and corners of the city, where the plague raged 
 most terribly; he had not so much as a cigarette in his mouth 
 to ward off infection. He walked with the easy and assured 
 step of a hero; his face was somewhat sad, as though the 
 sufferings of his people had pressed heavily upon his sympa- 
 thetic heart. I bared my head reverently as he passed, his 
 keen kind eyes lighted on me with a smile. 
 
 " A subject for a painting, yon white-haired fisherman ! " 
 I heard him say to one of his attendants. Almost I betrayed 
 myself. I was on the point of springing forward and throw* 
 ing myself at his feet to tell him my story, It seemed to me 
 both cruel and unnatural that he, my beloved sovereign, 
 should pass me without recognition — me, to whom he had 
 spoken so often and so cordially. For when I visited Rome, 
 as I was accustomed to do annually, there were few more 
 welcome guests at the balls of the Quirinal Palace than Count 
 Fabio Romani. I began to wonder stupidly who Fabio 
 Romani was ; the gay gallant known as such seemed no 
 longer to have any existence — a " white-haired fisherman u 
 usurped his place. But though I thought these things I 
 refrained from addressing the king. Some impulse, how- 
 ever, led me to follow him at a respectful distance, as did 
 also many others. His majesty strolled through the most 
 pestilential streets with as much unconcern as though he 
 were taking his pleasure in a garden of roses ; he stepped 
 quietly into the dirtiest hovels where lay both dead and dy- 
 ing ; he spoke words of kindly encouragement to the griei 
 4 
 
|« rBNBETTJkt ■—' ■« 
 
 stricken and terrified mourners, who stared through their 
 tears at the monarch with astonishment and gratitude ; silver 
 and gold were gently dropped into the hands of the suffering 
 poor, and the very pressing cases received the royal bene- 
 factor's personal attention and immediate relief. Mothers 
 with infants in their arms knelt to implore the king's blessing 
 • — which to pacify them he gave with a modest hesitation, as 
 though he thought himself unworthy, and yet with a pa- 
 rental tenderness that was infinitely touching. One wild- 
 eyed, black-haired girl flung herself down on the ground light 
 In the king's path ; she kissed his feet, and then sprung erect 
 with a gesture of triumph. 
 
 "lam saved I " she cried ; M the plague cannot walk in 
 the same road with the king I " 
 
 Humbert smiled, and regarded her somewhat as an indul- 
 gent^ father might regard a spoiled daughter; but he said 
 nothing, and passed on. A cluster of men and women stand- 
 ing at the open door of one of the poorest-looking houses in 
 the street next attracted the monarch's attention. There 
 was some noisy argument going on; two or three becco 
 tnorti were loudly discussing together and swearing pro- 
 fusely — some women were crying bitterly, and in the center 
 of the excited group a coffin stood on end as though waiting 
 for an occupant One of the gentlemen in attendance on 
 the king preceded hira and announced his approach, where- 
 upon the loud clamor of tongues ceased, the men bared their 
 heads, and the women checked their sobs. 
 
 4< What is wrong here, my friends ? " the monarch asked 
 with exceeding gentleness. 
 
 There was silence for a moment ; the beccamorti looked 
 sullen and ashamed. Then one of the women, with a fat 
 good-natured face and eyes rimmed redly round with weep- 
 ing, elbowed her way through the little throng to the front 
 and spoke. 
 
 "May the Holy Virgin and saints bless your majesty I" 
 she cried, in shrill accents. u And as for what is wrong, it 
 would soon be right if those shameless pigs," pointing to 
 the beccamorti t u would let us alone. They would kill a man 
 rather than wait an hour — one little hour I The girl is dead, 
 your majesty — and Giovanni, poor lad I will not leave her; 
 ne has his two arms round her tight — Holy Virgin I — think 
 of it 1 and she a cholera corpse — and do what we can, he 
 will not be patted from her, and they seek her body for the 
 tarial And $ we fore* him away t /^¥sr»v, he will lose his 
 
VENDEl*TAt gf 
 
 feead f6r certain. One little hour, your majesty, just one. 
 and the reverend father will come and persuade Giovanni 
 better than we can." 
 
 The king raised his hand with a slight gesture of command 
 — the little crowd parted before him — and he entered the mis- 
 erable dwelling wherein lay the corpse that was the cause of 
 all the argument His attendants followed ; I, too, availed 
 myself of a corner in the doorway. The scene disclosed was 
 so terribly pathetic that few could look upon it without emo 
 don — Humbert of Italy himself uncovered his head and stood 
 silent. On a poor pallet bed lay the fair body of a girl in 
 her first youth, her tender loveliness as yet untouched even 
 by the disfiguring marks of the death that had overtaken her. 
 One would have thought she slept, had it not been for the 
 rigidity of her stiffened limbs, and the wax-like pallor of her 
 face and hands. Right across her form, almost covering it 
 from view, a man lay prone, as though he had fallen there 
 .lifeless — indeed he might have been dead also for any sign 
 he showed to the contrary. His arms were closed firmly 
 round the girl's corpse — his face was hidden from view on 
 the cold breast that would no more respond to the warmth 
 of his caresses, A straight beam of sunlight shot like a 
 golden spear into the dark little room and lighted up the 
 whole scene — the prostrate figures on the bed — the erect 
 form of the compassionate king, and the grave and anxious 
 faces of the little crowd of people who stood around him. 
 
 " See ! that is the way he has been ever since last night 
 when she died," whispered the woman who had before spoken ; 
 " and his hands are clinched round her like iron — one can« 
 not move a finger I " 
 
 The king advanced. He touched the shoulder of the un 
 happy lover. His voice, modulated to an exquisite softness, 
 struck on the ears of the listeners like a note of cheerful 
 music. 
 
 "FigHomior 
 
 There was no answer The women, touched by the simple 
 endearing words of the monarch, began to sob though gently, 
 and even the men brushed a few drops from their eyes. 
 Again the king spoke. 
 
 " Figlio mio / I am your king. Have you no greeting for 
 me?" 
 
 The man raised his head from its pillow on the breast of 
 the beloved corpse and stared vacantly at the royal speaker. 
 His haggard face, tangled hair, and wild eyes gave him the 
 
5* ~; VENDETTA! 
 
 appearance of one who had long wandered in a labyrinth of 
 frightful visions from which there was no escape but self- 
 murder. 
 
 " Your hand, my son ! " resumed th king in a tone of sol- 
 dier-like authority. 
 
 Very slowly — very reluctantly — as though he were forced 
 to the action by some strange magneti influence which he 
 had no power to withstand, he loosened his right arm from 
 the dead form it clasped so pertinaciously, and stretched 
 forth the hand as commanded. Humbert caught it firmly 
 within his own and held it fast — then looking the poor 
 fellow full in the face, he said with grave steadiness and 
 simplicity, 
 
 " There is no death in love, my friend I " 
 
 The young man's eyes met his — his set mouth softened — 
 and wresting his hand passionately from that of the king, he 
 broke lto a passion of weeping. Humbert at once placed 
 a protecting arm around him, and with the assistance of one 
 of his attendants raised him from the bed, and led him un- 
 resistingly away, as passively obedient as a child, though sob- 
 bing convulsively as he went. The rush of tears had saved his 
 reason, and most probably his life. A murmur of enthu iastic 
 applause greeted the good king as he passed through the 
 little throng of persons who had witnessed what had taken 
 place. Acknowledging it with a quiet unaffected bow, he 
 left the house, and signed to the beccamorti, who still waited 
 outside, that they were now free to perform their melancholy 
 office. He then went on his w r ay attended by more heart- 
 felt blessings and praises than ever fell to the lot of the 
 proudest conqueror returning with the spoils of a hundred 
 battles. 1 looked after his retreating figure till I could see 
 it no more — I felt that I had grown stronger for the mere 
 presence of a hero — a man who indeed was " every inch a 
 king." I am a royalist — yes. Governed by such a sovereign, 
 few men of calm reason would be otherwise. But royalist 
 though I am, I would assist in bringing about the dethrone- 
 ment and death of a mean tyrant, were he crowned king a 
 hundred times over ! Few monarchs are like Humbert of 
 Italy — even now my heart warms when I think of him — in 
 all the distraction of my sufferings, his figure stands out like 
 a supreme embodied Beneficent Force surrounded by the 
 dear light of unselfish goodness — a light in which Italia suns 
 her fair face and smiles again with the old sweet smile of 
 her happiest days of high achievement — days in which hei 
 
VENDETTA! 53 
 
 children were great, simply because they were earnest. The 
 fault of all modern labor lies in tho fact that there is no heart 
 in anything we do — we seldom love our work for work's sake 
 — we perform it solely for what we can get by it. Therein 
 lies the secret of failure. Friends will scarcely serve each 
 other unless they can also serve their own interests — true, 
 there are exceptions to this rule, but they are deemed fools 
 for their pains. 
 
 As soon as the king disappeared I also left the scene of 
 the foregoing incident. I had a fancy to visit the little res- 
 taurant where I had been taken ill, and after some trouble 
 I found it. The door stood open. I saw the fat landlord, 
 Pietro, polishing his glasses as though he had never left off ; 
 and there in the same corner was the very wooden bench on 
 which I had lain — where I had — as was generally supposed 
 — died. I stepped in. The landlord looked up and bade 
 me good-day. I returned his salutation, and ordered some 
 coffee and rolls -f bread. Seating myself carelessly at one 
 of the little tables I turned over the newspaper, while he 
 bustled about in haste to serve me. As he dusted and 
 rubbed up a cup and saucer for my use, he said, briskly, 
 
 " You have had a long voyage, amico 1 And successful 
 fishing?" 
 
 For a moment I was confused and knew not what to an- 
 swer, but gathering my wits together I smiled and answered 
 readily in the affirmative. 
 
 " And you ? " I said, gayly. " How goes the cholera ? n 
 
 The landlord shook his head dolefully. 
 
 " Holy Joseph ! do not speak of it. The people die like 
 flies in a honey-pot. Only yesterday — body of Bacchus ! — ■ 
 who would have thought it ? " 
 
 And he sighed deeply as he poured out the steaming 
 coffee, and shook his head more sorrowfully than before. 
 
 " Why, what happened yesterday ? " I asked, though I knew 
 peafectly well what he was going to say ; " I am a stranger 
 in Naples, and empty of news." 
 
 The perspiring Pietro laid a fat thumb on the marble top 
 of the table, and with it traced a pattern meditatively. 
 
 " You never heard of the rich Count Romani ? " he in- 
 quired. 
 
 I made a sign in the negative, and bent my face over my 
 coffee-cup. 
 
 " Ah, well ! " he went on with a half groan, " it does not 
 letter — there is no Count Roraani any more. It is all gone 
 
§4 VENDETTA / 
 
 — finished ! But he was rich — as rich as the king, they say 
 
 ■ — yet see how low the saints brought him ! Fra Cipriano of 
 the Benedictines carried him in here yesterday morning — he 
 was struck by the plague — in five hours he was dead," here 
 the landlord caught a mosquito and killed it — " ah ! as dead 
 asv that zinzara ! Yes, he lay dead on that very wooden 
 bench opposite to you. They buried him before sunset. It 
 is like a bad dream ! " 
 
 I affected to be deeply engrossed with the cutting and 
 spreading of my roll and butter. 
 
 " I see nothing particular about it," I said, indifferently. 
 "That he was rich is nothing — rich and poor must die 
 alike." 
 
 " And that is true, very true," assented Pietro, with another 
 ^roan, " for not all his property could save the blessed Cip* 
 nano." 
 
 I started, but quickly controlled myself. 
 
 "What do you mean ? " I asked, as carelessly as I could. 
 " Are you talking of some saint ? " 
 
 " Well, if he were not canonized he deserves to be," replied 
 the landlord ; " I speak of the holy Benedictine father who 
 brought hither the Count Romani in a dying condition. Ah 1 
 little he knew how soon the good God would call him him- 
 self ! " 
 
 I felt a sickening sensation at my heart. 
 
 " Is he dead ? " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Dead as the martyrs ! " answered Pietro. " He caught 
 the plague, I suppose, from the count, for he was bending 
 over him to the last. Ay, and he sprinkled holy water over 
 the corpse, and laid his owr crucifix upon it in the coffin. 
 Then up he went to the Villa. Romani, taking with him the 
 count's trinkets, his watch, ring, and cigar-case — and nothing 
 would satisfy him but that he should deliver them himself to 
 the young contessa, telling her how her husband died." 
 
 My poor Nina ! — I thought. " Was she much grieved ? " I 
 inquired, with a vague curiosity. 
 
 " How do I know ? " said the landlord, shrugging his bulky 
 shoulders. " The reverend father said nothing, save that she 
 swooned away. But what of that ? Women swoon at every- 
 thing — from a mouse to a corpse. As I said, the good Cip- 
 riano attended the count's burial — and he had scarce returned 
 from it when he was seized with the illness. And this morn- 
 ing he died at the monastery — may his soul rest in peace ! I 
 heard the news only an hour ago. Ah I he was a holy man 1 
 
VENDETTA f 55 
 
 He has promised me a warm corner in Paradise, and I know 
 he will keep his word as truly as St. Peter himself." 
 
 I pushed away the rest of my meal untasted. The food 
 choked me. I could have shed tears for the noble, patient 
 life thus self-sacrificed. One hero the less in this world of 
 unheroic, uninspired persons ! I sat silent, lost in sorrowful 
 thought. The landlord looked at me curiously. 
 
 " The coffee does not please you ? " he said at last. " Y»u 
 have no appetite ? " 
 
 I forced a smile. 
 
 " Nay — your words would take the edge off the keenest ap- 
 petite ever born of the breath of the sea. Truly Naples 
 affords but sorry entertainment to a stranger ; is there naught 
 to hear but stories of the dying and the dead ? " 
 
 Pietro put on an air that was almost apologetic. 
 
 "Well, truly ! " he answered, resignedly — " very little else. 
 But what would you, amico ? It is the plague and the will of 
 God." 
 
 As he said the last words my gaze was caught and riveted 
 by the figure of a man strolling leisurely past the door of the 
 cqft. It was Guido Ferrari — my friend ! I would have 
 rushed out to speak to him — but something in his look and 
 manner checked the impulse as it rose in me. He was walk 
 ing very slowly, smoking a cigar as he went ; there was a 
 smile on his face, and in his coat he wore a freshly-gathered 
 rose La Gloire de France, similar to those that grew in such 
 profusion on the upper terrace of my villa. I stared at him 
 as he passed — my feelings underwent a kind of shock. He 
 looked perfectly happy and tranquil, happier indeed than 
 ever I remembered to have seen him, and yet — and yet, 
 according to his knowledge, I, his best friend, had died only 
 yesterday 1 With this sorrow fresh upon him, he could smile 
 Jike a man going to 2-festa, and wear a coral-pink rose, which 
 surely was no sign of mourning ! For one moment I felt 
 hurt, the next, I laughed at my own sensitiveness. After all, 
 what of the smile, what of the rose 1 A man could not always 
 be answerable for the expression of his countenance, and as 
 for the flower, he might have gathered it en passent, without 
 thinking, or what was still more likely, the child Stella might 
 have given it to him, in which case he would have worn it to 
 please her. He displayed no badge of mourning ? True ! — 
 but then consider — I had only died yesterday ! There had 
 been no time to procure all those outward appurtenances of 
 woe which social customs rendered necessary , but which were 
 
$6 VENDETTA I 
 
 no infallible sign of the heart's sincerity. Satisfied with my 
 own self-reasoning I made no attempt to follow Guido in his 
 wa.k- -I let him go on his way unconscious of my existence. I 
 woui i wait, I thought, till the evening — then everything would 
 be explained. 
 
 I turned to the landlord. "How much to pay? " I asked 
 
 <k What you will, amico" he replied — " I am never hard on 
 the nsher folk — but times are bad, or you would be welcome 
 to a breakfast for nothing. Many and many a day have J 
 done as much for men of your craft, and the blessed Cipriana 
 who is gone used to say that St. Peter would remember me 
 for it. It is true the Madonna gives a special blessing If one 
 looks after the fishers, because all the holy apostles were of 
 the trade ; and I would be loth to lose her protection- 
 yet—" 
 
 I laughed and tossed him a franc. He pocketed it at once 
 and his eyes twinkled. 
 
 " Though you have not taken half a franc's worth," he ad' 
 mitted, with an honesty very unusual in a Neapolitan — " but 
 the saints will make it up to you, never fear ! " 
 
 " I am sure of that J " I said, gayly. " Addio y my friend \ 
 Prosperity to you and our Lady's favor ! " 
 
 This salutation, which I knew to be a common one with 
 Sicilian mariners, the good Pietro responded to with amiable 
 heartiness, wishing me luck on my next voyage. He then 
 betook himself anew to the polishing of his glasses — and 
 I passed the rest of the day in strolling about the least fre« 
 quented streets of the city, and longing impatiently for the 
 crimson glory of the sunset, which, like a wide flag of triumph, 
 was to be the signal of my safe return to love and hap- 
 piness. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 It came at last, the blessed, the longed-for evening. A 
 •oft breeze sprung up, cooling the burning air after the heat 
 of the day, and bringing with it the odors of a thousand 
 flowers. A regal glory of shifting colors blazed on the breast 
 of heaven — the bay, motionless as a mirror, reflected all the 
 splendid tints with a sheeny luster that redoubled their mag- 
 nificence. Pricked in every vein by the stinging of my own 
 desires, I yet restrained myself ; I waited till the sun sunk 
 below the glassy waters — till the pomp and glow attending 
 
VENDETTA 1 tf 
 
 >ts departure had paled into those dim, ethereal hues which 
 are like delicate draperies fallen from the flying forms oi 
 angels — till the yellow rim of the round full moon rose lan- 
 guidly on the edge of the horizon — and then keeping back 
 my eagerness no longer, I took the well-known road ascend- 
 ing to the Villa Romani My heart beat high — my limbs 
 trembled with excitement — my steps were impatu nt anc 
 precipitate — never had the way seemed so long. At last 1 
 reached the great gate-way — it was locked fast — its sculp- 
 ;ured lions looked upon me frowningly. I heard the splash 
 and tinkle of the fountains within, the scents of the roses and 
 myrtle were wafted toward me with every breath I drew. 
 Home at last ! . I smiled — my whole frame quivered with 
 expectancy and delight. It was not my intention to seek 
 admission by the principal entrance — I contented myself with 
 one long, loving look, and turned to the left, where there was 
 a small private gate leading into an avenue of ilex and pine, 
 interspersed with orange-trees. This was a favorite walk of 
 mine, partly on account of its pleasant shade even in the 
 hottest noon — partly because it was seldom frequented by 
 any member of the household save myself. Guido occasion- 
 ally took a turn with me there, but I was more often alone, 
 and I was fond of pacing up and down in the shadow of the 
 trees, reading some favorite book, or giving myself up to the 
 dolcefar nienteoi my own imaginings. The avenue led round 
 to the back of the villa, and as I now entered it, I thought I 
 would approach the house cautiously by this means and get 
 private speech with Assunta, the nurse who had charge of 
 little Stella, and who was moreover an old and tried family 
 servant, in whose arms my mother had breathed her last. 
 
 The dark trees rustled solemnly as I stepped quickly yet 
 softly along the familiar moss-grown path. The pUce wa.» 
 ?rery still — sometimes the nightingales broke into a bubbling 
 orrent of melody, and then were suddenly silent, as though 
 overawed by the shadows of the heavy interlacing boughs, 
 through which the moonlight flickered, casting strange and 
 fantastic patterns on the ground. A cloud of lucciole broke 
 from a thicket of laurel, and sparkled in the air like gems 
 loosened from a queen's crown. Faint odors floated about 
 me, shaken from orange boughs and trailing branches of 
 white jasmine. I hastened on, my spirits rising higher the 
 nearer I approached my destination. I was full of sweet 
 anticipation and passionate longing — I yearned to clasp my 
 beloved Nina in my arms — to see her lovely lustrous eyes 
 
58 VENDETTA t " ** 
 
 looking fondly into mine — I was eager to shake Guido b^ 
 the hand — and as for Stella, I knew the child would be in 
 bed at that hour, but still, I thought, I must have her wak- 
 ened to see me. I felt that my happiness would not be com- 
 plete till I had kissed her little cherub face, and caressed 
 those clustering curls of hers that were like spun gold. 
 Hush — hush ! What was that ? I stopped in my rapid pro- 
 gress as though suddenly checked by an invisible hand. I 
 listened with strained ears. That sound — was it not a rip- 
 pling peal of gay sweet laughter ? A shiver shook me from 
 head to foot. It was my wife's laugh — I knew the silvery 
 chime of it well ! My heart sunk coldly — I paused irreso- 
 lute. She could laugh then like that, while' she thought me 
 lying dead — dead and out of her reach forever ! All at 
 once I perceived the glimmer of a white robe through the 
 trees ; obeying my own impulse, I stepped softly aside — I 
 hid behind a dense screen of foliage through which I could 
 see without being seen. The clear laugh rang out once 
 again on the stillness — its brightness pierced my brain like 
 a sharp sword ! She was happy — she was even merry — she 
 wandered here in the moonlight joyous-hearted, while I — I 
 had expected to find her close shut within her room, or else 
 kneeling before the Mater Dolorosa in the little chapel, 
 praying for my soul's rest, and mingling her prayers with 
 her tears ! Yes — I had expected this — we men are such 
 fools when we love women ! Suddenly a terrible thought 
 struck me. Had she gone mad ? Had the shock and grief 
 of my so unexpected death turned her delicate brain ? Was 
 she roaming about, poor child, like Ophelia, knowing not 
 whither she went, and was her apparent gayety the fantastic 
 mirth of a disordered brain ? I shuddered at the idea — ■ 
 and bending slightly apart the boughs behind which I was 
 secreted, I looked out anxiously. Two figures were slowly 
 approaching — my wife and my friend, Guido Ferrari. Well 
 —there was nothing in that — it was as it should be — was not 
 Guido as my brother ? It was almost his duty to console and 
 cheer Nina as much as lay in his power. But stay ! stay ! did 
 I see aright — was she simply leaning on his arm for support 
 — or — a fierce oath, that was almost a cry of torture, broke 
 from my lips ! Oh, would to God I had died ! Would to 
 God I had never broken open the coffin in which I lay at 
 peace ! What was death — what were the horrors of the vault 
 — what was anything I had suffered to the anguish that 
 racked me now ? The memory of it to this day burns in m^ 
 
VENDETTA t 
 
 5$ 
 
 brain like inextinguishable fire, and my hand involuntarily 
 clinches itself in an effort to beat back the furious bitterness 
 of that moment ! I know not how I restrained the murderous 
 ferocity that awoke within me — how I forced myself to re- 
 main motionless and silent in my hiding-place. But I did. 
 I watched the miserable comedy out to its end. I looked 
 dumbly on at my own betrayal ! I saw my honor stabbed 
 to the death by those whom I most trusted, and yet I gave 
 no sign ! They — Guido Ferrari and my wife — came so 
 close to my hiding-place that I could note every gesture and 
 hear every word they uttered. They paused within three 
 steps of me — his arm encircled her waist — hers was thrown 
 carelessly around his neck — her head rested on his shoulder. 
 Even so had she walked with me a thousand times ! She 
 was dressed in pure white save for one spot of deep coloi 
 near her heart — a red rose, as red as — blood. It was pinned 
 there with a diamond pin that flashed in the moonlight. 1 
 thought wildly, that instead of that rose, there should be 
 blood indeed — instead of a diamond pin there should be 
 the good steel of a straight dagger ! But I had no weapon 
 — I stared at her, dry-eyed and mute. She looked lovely — 
 exquisitely lovely ! No trace of grief marred the fairness of 
 her face — her eyes were as languidly limpid and tender as 
 ever — her lips were parted in the child-like smile that was 
 so sweet — so innocently trustful ! She spoke — ah, Heaven ! 
 the old bewitching music of her low voice made my heart 
 leap and my brain reel. 
 
 " You foolish Guido ! " she said, in dreamily amused ac- 
 cents. " What would have happened, I wonder, if Fabio 
 had not died so opportunely." 
 
 I waited eagerly for the answer. Guido laughed lightly. 
 
 " He would never have discovered anything. You were 
 too clever for him, piccinina ! Besides, his conceit saved 
 him — he had so good an opinion of himself that he would 
 not have deemed it possible for you to care for any other man." 
 
 My wife — flawless diamond — pearl of pure womanhood ! — 
 sighed half restlessly. 
 
 "I am glad he is dead!" she murmured \ "but, Guido 
 tnio, you are imprudent. You cannot visit me now so often 
 — the servants will talk ! Then I must go into mourning for 
 at least six months — and there are many other things to con- 
 sider." 
 
 Guido's hand played with the jeweled necklace she wore— « 
 toe bent and kissed the place where its central pendant rested 
 
6o VENDETTA I 
 
 Again — again, good sir, I pray you ! Let no faint scruples 
 interfere with your rightful enjoyment ! Cover the white 
 flesh with caresses — it is public property ! a dozen kisses 
 more or less will not signify ! So I madly thought as I 
 crouched among the trees — the tigerish wrath within me 
 making the blood beat in my head like a hundred hammer 
 strokes. 
 
 " Nay then, my love," he replied to her, " it is almost a 
 pity Fabio is dead I While he lived he played an excellent 
 part as a screen — he was an unconscious, but veritable 
 duenna of propriety for both of us, as no one else could be ! " 
 
 The boughs that covered me creaked and rustled. My 
 wife started, and looked uneasily round her. 
 
 " Hush ! " she said, nervously. " He was buried only yes- 
 terday — and they say there are ghosts sometimes. This 
 avenue, too — I wish we had not come here — it was his favor- 
 ite walk. Besides," she added, with a slight accent of re- 
 gret, " after all he was the father of my child — you must 
 think of that." 
 
 "By Heaven ! " exclaimed Guido, fiercely, "do I not think 
 of it ? Ay — and I curse him for every kiss he stole from 
 your lips ! " 
 
 I listened half stupefied. Here was a new phase of the 
 marriage law! Husbands were thieves then — they " stole" 
 kisses ; only lovers were honest in their embraces ! Oh, my 
 dear friend — my more than brother — how near you were to 
 death at that moment ! Had you but seen my face peering 
 pallidly through the dusky leaves — could you have known 
 the force of the fury pent up within me — you would not have 
 valued your life at one baiocco / 
 
 "Why did you marry him ? " he asked, after a little pause, 
 during which he toyed with the fair curls that floated against 
 his breast. 
 
 She looked up with a little mutinous pout, and shrugged 
 her shoulders. 
 
 " Why ? Because I was tired of the convent, and all the 
 stupid, solemn ways of the nuns ; also because he was rich, 
 and I was horribly poor. I cannot bear to be poor ! Then 
 he loved me " — here her eyes glimmered with malicious 
 triumph — " yes — he was mad for me — and — " 
 
 " You loved him ? " demanded Guido, almost fiercely. 
 
 " Ma chef" she answered, with an expressive gesture. 
 " I suppose I did — for a week or two. As much as one ever 
 loves a husband 1 What does one marry for at all ? Foi 
 
VENDETTAl 6 1 
 
 convenience — money — position — he gave me these things, as 
 you know." 
 
 " You will gain nothing by marrying me, then," he said, 
 jealously. 
 
 She laughed, and laid her little white hand, glittering with 
 rings, lightly against his lips. 
 
 " Of course not ! Besides — have I said I will marry you ? 
 You are very agreeable as a lover — but otherwise — I am not 
 sure ! And I am free now — I can do as I like ; I want to 
 enjoy my liberty, and — " 
 
 She was not allowed to complete her sentence, for Ferrari 
 snatched her close to his breast and held her there as in a 
 vise. His face was aflame with passion. 
 
 " Look you, Nina," he said, hoarsely, "you shall not fool 
 me, by Heaven ! you shall not ! J have endured enough at 
 your hands, God knows ! When I saw you for the first time 
 on the day of your marriage with that poor fool, Ff»bio — I 
 loved you, madly — ay, wickedly as I then thought, jut not 
 for the sin of it did I repent. I knew you were woman, not 
 angel, and I waited my time. It came — I sought you — I 
 told you my story of love ere three months of wedded life 
 had passed over your head. I found you willing — ready — 
 nay, eager to hear me ! You led me on ; you know you did ! 
 You tempted me by touch, word and look ; you gave me all 
 I sought ! Why try to excuse it now ? You are as much 
 my wife as ever you were Fabio's — nay — you are more so, 
 for you love me — at least you say so — and though you lied 
 to your husband, you dare not lie to me. I tell you, you 
 dare not / I never pitied Fabio, never — he was too easily 
 duped, and a married man has no right to be otherwise than 
 suspicious and ever on his guard ; if he relaxes in his vigil- 
 ance he has only himself to blame when his honor is flung 
 like a ball from hand to hand, as one plays with a child's 
 toy. I repeat to you, Nina, you are mine, and I swear you 
 shall never escape me ! " 
 
 The impetuous words coursed rapidly from his lips, and 
 his deep musical voice had a defiant ring as it fell on the 
 stillness of the evening air. I smiled bitterly as I heard ! 
 She struggled in his arms half angrily. 
 
 " Let me go," she said. " You are rough, you hurt me ! " 
 
 He released her instantly. The violence of his embrace 
 had crushed the rose she wore, and its crimson leaves flut- 
 tered slowly down one by one on the ground at her feet. 
 Her eyes flashed resentfully, and an impatient frowrt pors? 
 
62 VENDETTA! 
 
 tracted her fair level brows. She looked away from him in 
 silence, the silence of a cold disdain. Something in her 
 attitude pained him, for he sprung forward and caught her 
 hand, covering it with kisses. 
 
 " Forgive me, carina mia" he cried, repentantly. " I did 
 not mean to reproach you. You cannot help being beauti- 
 ful — it is the fault of God or the devil that you are so, and 
 that your beauty maddens me ! You are the heart of my 
 heart, the soul of my soul ! Oh, Nina mia, let us not waste 
 Pi'ords in useless anger. Think of it, we are free — free ! Free 
 to make life a long dream of delight — delight more perfect 
 than angels can know ! The greatest blessing that could 
 have befallen us is the death of Fabio, and now that we are 
 all in all to each other, do not harden yourself against me ! 
 Nina, be gentle with me — of all things in the world, surely 
 love is best ! " 
 
 She smiled, with the pretty superior smile of a young em- 
 press pardoning a recreant subject, and suffered him to draw 
 her again, but with more gentleness, into his embrace. Sha 
 put up her lips to meet his — I looked on like a man in a dream ,' 
 I saw them cling together — each kiss they exchanged was a 
 fresh stab to my tortured soul. 
 
 "You are so foolish, Guido mio," she pouted, passing hei 
 little jeweled fingers through his clustering hair with a light 
 caress — "so impetuous — so jealous ! I have told you over 
 and over again that I love you ! Do you not remember that 
 night when Fabio sat out on the balcony reading his Plato, 
 poor fellow ! " — here she laughed musically — " and we were 
 trying over some songs in the drawing-room — did I not say 
 then that I loved you best of any one in the world ? Y'ou 
 know I did \ You ought to be satisfied ! " 
 
 Guido smiled, and stroked her shining golden curls. 
 
 " I am satisfied," he said, without any trace of his former 
 heated impatience — " perfectly satisfied. But do not expect 
 to find love without jealousy. Fabio was never jealous — I 
 know — he trusted you too implicitly — he was nothing of a 
 lover, believe me ! He thought more of himself than of you. 
 A man who will go away for days at a time on solitary yacht- 
 ing and rambling excursions, leaving his wife to her own 
 devices — a man who reads Plato in preference to looking 
 after her, decides his own fate, and deserves to be ranked 
 with those so-called wise but most ignorant philosophers to 
 whom Woman has always remained an unguessed riddle, 
 &$ for me^I am jealous of the ground you tread upon — of 
 
' VENDETTA! 6 J 
 
 the air that touches you — I was jealous of Fabio while he 
 lived — and — by Herven ! " — his eyes darkened with a somber 
 wrath — " if any ot 1 er man dared now to dispute your love 
 with me I would not rest till his body had served my sword 
 as a sheath ! " 
 
 Nina raised her head from his breast with an air of petu- 
 lant weariness. 
 
 " Again ! " she murmured, reproachfully " you are going 
 \o be angry again / " 
 
 He kissed her. 
 
 " Not I, sweet one ! I will be as gentle as you wish, so 
 long as you love me and only me. Come — this avenue is 
 damp and chilly for you — shall we go in ? " 
 
 My wife — nay, I should say our wife, as we had both 
 shared her impartial favors — assented. With arms interlaced 
 and walking slowly, they began to retrace their steps toward 
 the house. Once they paused. 
 
 " Do you hear th nightingales ? " asked Guido. 
 
 Hear them Who could not hear them ? A shower of 
 melody rained from the trees on every side — the pure, sweet, 
 passionate tones pierced the ear like the repeated chime of 
 little golden bells — th beautiful, the tender, the God-inspired 
 birds sung their 1 ve-stories simply and with perfect rapture 
 —love-stories untai ted by hypocrisy — unsullied by crime — 
 different, ah ! so very different from the love-stories of selfish 
 humanity ! The exquisite poetic idyl of a bird's life and love 
 ■ — is it not a thing put us inferior creatures to shame — ■ 
 for are we ever as true to our vows as the lark to his mate ? 
 — are we as sincere in our thanksgivings for the sunlight as 
 the merry robin who sings as blithely in the winter snow as 
 in the flower-filled mornings of spring ? Nay — not we ! Our 
 existence is but one long impotent protest against God, 
 combined with an insatiate desire to get the better of one 
 another in the struggle for base coin ! 
 
 Nina listened — and shivered, drawing her light scarf more 
 closely about her shoulders. 
 
 " I hate them ! " she said, pettishly ; " their noise is 
 enough to pierce one's ears. And he used to be so fond ot 
 them ; he used to sing — what was it? 
 
 * Ti saluto, Rosignuolo, 
 Nel tuo duolo, ti saluto ! 
 Sei Vamante della rosa 
 Che morendo si fa sposa I " 
 
 Her rich voice rippled out on the air ? rivaling the songs of 
 
&4 VENDETTA t 
 
 the nightingales themselves. She broke oft with a little 
 
 laugh— 
 
 " Poor Fabio ! there was always a false note somewhere 
 when he sung. Come, Guido ! Jl 
 
 And they paced on quietly, as though their consciences 
 were clean — as though no just retribution dogged their steps 
 —as though no shadow of a terrible vengeance loomed in 
 the heaven of their pilfered happiness I I watched their 
 steadily as they disappeared in the distance — I stretched 
 my head eagerly out from between the dark boughs and 
 gazed after their retreating figures till the last glimmer of 
 my wife's white robe had vanished behind the thick foliage 
 f hey were gone — they would return no more that night. 
 
 I sprung out from my hiding-place. I stood on the spot 
 where they had stood. I tried to bring home to myself the 
 actual truth of what I had witnessed. My brain whirled^* 
 circles of light swam giddily before me in the air — the moon 
 iooked blood-red. The solid earth seemed unsteady be- 
 neath my feet — almost I doubted whether I was indeed alive, 
 or whether I was not rather the wretched ghost of my past 
 self, doomed to return from the grave to look helplessly 
 upon the loss and ruin of all the fair, once precious things 
 of by-gone days. The splendid universe around me seemed 
 no more upheld by the hand of God — no more a majestic 
 marvel ; it was to me but an inflated bubble of emptiness— 
 a mere ball for devils to kick and spurn through space I Oi 
 what avail these twinkling stars — these stately leaf-laden 
 trees — these cups of fragrance we know as flowers — this 
 round wonder of the eyes called Nature ? of what avail was 
 God Himself, I widely mused, since even He could not keep 
 one woman true ? She whom I loved — she as delicate oi 
 form, as angel-like in face as the child-bride of Christ, St 
 Agnes — she, even she was — what ? A thing lower than the 
 beasts, a thing as vile as the vilest wretch in female form 
 that sells herselt for a gold piece — a thing — great Heaven ! 
 ■ — for all men to despise and make light of — for the finger of 
 Scorn to point out — for the foul hissing tongue of Scandal 
 to mock at ! This creature was my wife — the mother of my 
 child — she had cast mud on her soul by her own free will 
 and choice — she had selected evil as her good — she had 
 crowned herself with shame willingly, nay — joyfully; she 
 had preferred it to honor. What should be done ? I tort- 
 ured myself unceasingly with this ojuestion. I stared blankly 
 on the ground — would some demon spring from it and give 
 
me the answer I sought ? What should be done wr& ka^ 
 with Aim, my treacherous friend, my smiling betrayer ? Sud 
 denly my eyes lighted on the fallen rose-leaves — those that 
 foad dropped when Guido's embrace had crushed the flowet 
 she wore. There they lay on the path, curled softly at the 
 «dges like Httle crimson shells. I stooped and picked them 
 op — I placed them all in the hollow of my hand and looked 
 at them. They had a sweet odor — almost I kissed them— 
 flay, nay, I could not— they had too recently lain on the 
 breast of an embodied Lie I Yes ; she was that, a Lie, a 
 Hiving, lovely, but accursed Lie i M Go and kill her /" Stay i 
 where had I heard that ? Painfully I considered, and at last 
 Remembered — and then I thought moodily that the starved 
 and miserable rag-picker was more of a man than I. He 
 had taken his revenge at once ; while I, like a fool, had let 
 occasion slip. Yes, but not forever ! There were different 
 ways of vengeance ; one must decide the best, the keenest 
 way — and, above all, the way that shall inflict the longest, 
 die crudest agony upon those by whom honor is wronged 
 True — it would be sweet to slay oin Sn the act of sinning, 
 but then— must a Romani brand himself as a murderer in 
 the sight of men ? Not so ; there were other means — other 
 roads, leading to the same end if the tired brain could only 
 plan them out. Slowly I dragged ay aching limbs to the 
 fallen trunk of a tree and sat down, still holding the dying 
 rose-leaves in my clinched palm. There was a surging 
 noise in my ears — my mouth tasted of blood, my lips were 
 parched and burning as with fever. " A white-naired Jisher* 
 man' 1 That was me! The king had said so. Mechanically 
 I looked down at the clothes I wore — the former property of 
 a suicide. u He was a fool," the vender of them had said 
 * he killed himself." 
 
 Yes, there was no doubt o* :t — he was a fool. I would not 
 follow his example, or at least not yet I had something to dc 
 first— something that must be done if I could only see my way 
 clear to it Yes — if I could only see my way and follow it 
 straightly, resolutely, remorselessly ! My thoughts were con 
 fused, like the thoughts of a fever-stricken man in delirium-* 
 the scent of the rose-leaves I held sickened me strangely-* 
 yet I would not throw them from me ; no, I would keep 
 them to remind me of the embraces I had witnessed ! I fet 
 for my purse S I found and opened it, and placed the 
 withering red petals carefully within it As I slipped I 
 tgaia in my packet I remembered tfea twoteathm poocM 
 5 ..... .,.._ . . i 
 
m FJsm&rrA t 
 
 I tcarmd— the one filled with gold, the other with the jewel* 
 I had intended for— £0-. My adventures in the vault re 
 curred to me ; I smiled as I recollected the dire struggle I 
 had made for life and liberty. life and liberty J— of whal 
 use were they to me now, save for one thing — revenge ? I 
 was not wanted ; I was not expected back to refill my f ormet 
 place on earth — the large fortune I had possessed was now 
 my wife's by the decree of my own last will and testament 
 which she would have no difficulty in proving. But stilly 
 wealth was mine — the hidden stores of the brigands were 
 sufficient to make any man more than rich for the tens 
 «f his natural life. As I considered this, a sort of dull 
 pleasure throbbed in my veins. Money t Anything could 
 be done for money — gold would purchase even vengeance. 
 3ut what sort of vengeance ? Such a one as I sought must 
 be unique — refined, relentless, and complete. I pondered 
 deeply. The evening wind blew freshly up from the sea ; 
 die leaves of the swaying trees whispered mysteriously to 
 gether ; the nightingales warbled on with untired sweetness; 
 and the moon, like the round shield of an angel warrior, 
 shone brightly against the dense blue background of the 
 sky. Heedless of the passing of hours, I sat still, lost in a 
 bewildered reverie. M There was always m false note tome' 
 when when he sung/" So she had said, laughing thai little 
 laugh of hers as cold and sharp as the clash of steeL True, 
 true ; by all the majesty of Heaven, most true ! There was 
 indeed a false note— jarring, not so much the voice as the 
 musk of life itself. There is stuff in all of us that will 
 weave, as we desire it, into a web of stately or simple 
 harmony ; but let the meteor-like brilliancy of a woman's 
 smile— a woman's touch — a woman's /&— intenningle itself 
 with the strain, and lo t the false note is struck, discord de 
 clares itself, and God Himself, the great Composer, can do 
 nothing in this life to restore the old calm tune of peaceful, 
 unspoiled days ! So I have found ; so all of yon must find, 
 long before you and sorrow grow old together. 
 
 "A white-haired fisherman J" 
 
 The words of the king repeated themselves over and over 
 again in my tortured brain. Yes — I was greatly changed, I 
 looked worn and old — no one would recognize me for my 
 former sell All at once, with this thought, an idea occurred 
 lo me — a plan of vengeance, so bold, so new, and withal so 
 terrible, that I started from my seat as though stung by an 
 ftdtte* I paced up and down festf emkf, with this lurid 
 
VENDETTA t 67 
 
 of fearful revenge pouring in on every nook and cranny of my 
 darkened mind. From whence had come this daring scheme ? 
 What devil, or rather what angel of retribution, had 
 whispered it to my soul ? Dimly I wondered — but amid 
 all my wonder I began practically to arrange the details ot 
 my plot. I calculated every small circumstance that was 
 likely to occur in the process of carrying it out. My stupe- 
 fied senses became aroused from the lethargy of despair 
 and stood up like soldiers on the alert armed to the teeth. 
 Fast love, pity, pardon, patience — pooh ! what were all these 
 resources of the world's weakness to me ? What was it to 
 me that the bleeding Christ forgave His enemies in death ? 
 He never loved a woman ! Strength and resolution returned 
 to me. Let common sailors and rag-pickers resort to murder 
 and suicide as fit outlets for their unreasoning brute wrath 
 when wronged ; but as for me, why should I blot my family 
 scutcheon with a merely vulgar crime ? Nay, the vengeance 
 of a Romani must be taken with assured calmness and easy 
 deliberation — no haste, no plebeian fury, no effeminate fuss, 
 no excitement. I walked up and down slowly, meditating 
 en every point of the bitter drama in which I had resolved 
 to enact th # e chief part, from the rise to the fall of the black 
 curtain. The mists cleared from my brain — I breathed more 
 easily — my nerves steadied themselves by degrees — the 
 prospect of what I purposed doing satisfied me and calmed 
 the fever in my blood. I became perfectly cool and collected, 
 I indulged in no more futile regrets for the past — why should 
 I mourn the loss of a love I never possessed ? It was not 
 as if they had waited till my supposed sudden death — no \ 
 within three months of my marriage they had fooled me •, for 
 three whole years they had indulged in their criminal amour. 
 while I, blind dreamer, had suspected nothing. Now I knew 
 the extent of my injury ; I was a man bitterly wronged, vilely 
 duped. Justice, reason, and self-respect demanded that I 
 should punish to the utmost the miserable tricksters who had 
 played me false. The passionate tenderness I had felt for my 
 wife was gone — I plucked it from my heart as I would have 
 torn a thorn from my flesh — I flung it from me with disgust 
 as I had flung away the unseen reptile that had fastened on 
 my neck in the vault. The deep warm friendship of years I 
 had felt for Guido Ferrari froze to its very foundations — and 
 in its place there rose up, not hate, but pitiless, immeasurable 
 contempt. A stern disdain of myself also awoke in me, as I. 
 remembered the unreasoning joy with which I had Jiasteaei 
 
68 VENDET7AI 
 
 —as I thought— home, full of eager anticipation and Romeo* 
 like ardor. An idiot leaping merrily to his death over a 
 mountain chasm was not more fool than I ! But the dream 
 was over — the delusion of my life was passed. I was strong 
 to avenge — I would be v.vift to accomplish. So, darkly 
 musing for an hour or more, I decided on the course I had 
 to pursue, and to make the decision final I drew from my 
 breast the crucifix that the dead monk Cipriano had laid 
 with me in my coffin, and kissing it, I raised it aloft, and 
 swore by that sacred symbol never to relent, never to relax, 
 never to rest, till I had brought my vow of just vengeance to 
 its utmost fulfillment. The stars, calm witnesses of my 
 oath, eyed me earnestly from their judgment thrones in the 
 quiet sky — there was a brief pause in the singing of the 
 nightingales, as though they too listened — the wind sighed 
 plaintively, and scattered a shower of jasmine blossoms like 
 snow at my feet. Even so, I thought, fall the last leaves 
 c>f my white days — days of pleasure, days of sweet illusion, 
 days of dear remembrance ; even so let them wither and 
 perish utterly forever ! For from henceforth my life must be 
 something other than a mere garland of flowers — it must be 
 a chain of finely tempered steel, hard, cold, and unbreakable 
 —formed into links strong enough to wind round and round 
 two false lives and imprison them so closely as to leave no 
 means of escape. This was what must be done — and I re- 
 solved to do it. With a firm, quiet step I turned to leave 
 the avenue. I opened the little private wicket, and passed 
 into the dusty road. A clanging noise caused me to look up 
 as I went by the principal entrance of the Villa Romani. A 
 servant — my own man-servant by the by — was barring the 
 great gates for the night. I listened as he slid the bolts into 
 their places, and turned the key. I remembered that those 
 gates had been thoroughly fastened before, when I came up the 
 road from Naples — why then had they been opened since ? 
 To let out a visitor? Of course I I smiled grimly at my 
 life's cunning ! She evidently knew what she was about. 
 Appearances must be kept up — the Signor Ferrari must be 
 decorously shown out by a servant at the chief entrance of 
 the house. Naturally ! — all very unsuspicious-looking and 
 quite in keeping with the proprieties ! Guido had just left 
 her then ? I walked steadily, without hurrying my pace, down 
 the hill toward the city, and on the way I overtook him. He 
 was strolling lazily along, smoking as usual, and he held a 
 spray of stephanotis ig his hand — well I knew who had given 
 
h to him 9 I passed him— he glanced ^p carelessly, hh 
 handsome face clearly visible in the brigfll moonlight— -but 
 there was nothing about a common fisherman to attract his 
 attention — his look only rested upon me for a second and 
 was withdrawn immediately. An i«is*Be desire possessed 
 me to turn upon him — to spring at his throat — to wrestle 
 with him and throw him in the dust at my feet — to Jpit at 
 him and trample upon him — but I repressed those fierce and 
 dangerous emotions. I had a better game to play — I had an 
 exquisite torture in store for him, compared to which a hand 
 to-hand fight was mere vulgar fooling. Vengeance ought to 
 ripen slowly in the strong heat of intenso wrath, till of itself 
 it falls — hastily snatched before its time it is like unmellowed 
 fruit, sour and ungrateful to the palate. So I let my deal 
 friend — my wif e s consoler-— saunter on his heedless way with 
 out interference — I passed, leaving him to indulge in amorous 
 musings to his false heart's content I entered Naples, and 
 found a night's lodging at one of the iisual resorts for men of 
 my supposed craft, and, strange to say, I slept soundly and 
 dreamlessly. Recent illness, fatigue, fear, and sorrow, all 
 aided to throw me like an exhausted child upon the quiet 
 bosom of slumber, but perhaps the most powerfully soothing 
 opiate to my brain was the consciousness I had of a practical 
 plan of retribution — more terrible perhaps than any human 
 creature had yet devised, so far as I knew. Unchristian you 
 call me ? I tell yon again, Christ never loved a woman ! 
 Had He done so, He would have left us tome special code 
 of justice, 
 
 CHAPTER. IX 
 
 I ttosc very early the next morning — I was more than evei 
 •lengthened in my resolutions of the past night— my proj 
 Sects were entirely formed, and nothing remained now but 
 tor me to carry them out Unobserved of any one I took 
 mv way again to the vault I carried with me a small lan- 
 tern, a hammer, and some strong nails, Arrived at the 
 cemetery I looked carefully everywhere about me, lest some 
 stray mourner or curious stranger might possibly be in the 
 neighborhood. Not a soul was in sight Making use of the 
 secret passage, I soon found myself on the scene of my 
 recent terrors and sufferings, all of which seemed now so 
 fl&ghft k wparieaa with the mental torture el my 
 
7C VENDETTA! 
 
 condition. I wen* *a <iight to the spot where I had left the 
 coffined treasure — I possessed myself of all the rolls of papex 
 money, and disposed them in various small packages about 
 my person and in the lining of my clothes till, as I stood. 1 
 was worth many thousand of francs. Then with the help oi 
 the tools I had brought, I mended the huge chest in the split 
 places where I had forced it open, and nailed it up fast so 
 that it looked as if it had never been touched. I lost nc 
 time over my task, for I was in haste. It was my intention 
 to leave Naples for a fortnight or more, and I purposed 
 taking my departure that very day. Before leaving the 
 vault I glanced at the coffin I myself had occupied. Should 
 I mend that and nail it up as though my body were still in* 
 side ? No — better leave it as it was — roughly broken open — 
 it would serve my purpose better so. As soon as I had 
 finished all I had to do, I clambered through the private 
 passage, closing it after me with extra care and caution, and 
 then I betook myself directly to the Molo. On making 
 inquiries among the sailors who were gathered there, I heard 
 that a small coasting brig was on the point of leaving for 
 Palermo. Palermo would suit me as well as any other place » 
 I sought out the captain of the vessel. He was a brown-faced, 
 merry-eyed mariner — he showed his glittering white teeth in 
 the most amiable of smiles when I expressed my desire to take 
 passage with him, and consented to the arrangement at once 
 for a sum which I thought extremely moderate, but which I 
 afterward discovered to be about treble his rightful due. 
 But the handsome rogue cheated me with such grace and 
 exquisite courtesy, that I would scarcely have had him act 
 otherwise than he did. I hear a good deal of the " plain 
 blunt honesty" of the English. I dare say there is some 
 truth in it, but for my own part I would rather be cheated by 
 a friendly fellow who gives you a cheery word and a bright 
 look than receive exact value for my money from the " plain 
 blunt " boor who seldom has the common politeness to wish 
 you a good-day. 
 
 We got under way at about nine o'clock — the morning was 
 bright, and the air, for Naples, was almost cool. The water 
 rippling against the sides of our little vessel had a gurgling, 
 chatty murmur, as though it were talking vivaciously of al! 
 the pleasant things it experienced between the rising and the 
 setting of the sun ; of the corals and trailing sea-weed that 
 grew in its blue depths, of the lithe glittering fish that darted 
 Either and thither between its little waves, of the delicate 
 
VENDETTA I ft 
 
 shells in which dwelt sull more deiicate inhabitants, fantastic 
 small creatures as fine as filmy lace, that peeped from the 
 white and pink doors of their transparent habitations, and 
 looked as enjoyingly on the shimmering blue-green of their 
 ever-moving element as we look on the vast dome of our sky ; 
 bespangled thickly with stars. Of all these things, and many 
 more as strange and sweet, the gossiping water babbled un- 
 ceasingly : it had even something to say to me concerning 
 woman and woman's love. It told me gleefully how many 
 fair female bodies it had seen sunk in the cold embrace of 
 the conquering sea, bodies, dainty and soft as the sylphs of 
 a poet's dream, yet which, despite their exquisite beauty, 
 had been flung to and fro in cruel sport by the raging billows, 
 and tossed among pebbles for the monsters of the d^^p to 
 feed upon. 
 
 As I sat idly on the vessel's edge and looked down, down 
 into the clear Mediterranean, brilliantly blue as a lake of 
 melted sapphires, I fancied I could see her the Delilah of 
 my life, lying prone on the golden sand, her rich hair floating 
 straightly around her like yellow weed> her hands clinched 
 in the death agony, her laughing lips blue with the piercing 
 chilliness of the washing tide — powerless to move or smile 
 again. She would look well so, I thought — better to my 
 mind than she looked in the arms of her lover last night. I 
 fell into a train of profound meditation — a touch on my 
 shoulder startled me. I looked up, the captain of the brig 
 stood beside me. He smiled and held out a cigarette, 
 
 " The signor will smoke ? " he said courteously, 
 
 I accepted the little roll of fragrant Havanna half me 
 chanically. 
 
 " Why do you call me signor ? " I inquired brusquely 
 "lama coral-fisher." 
 
 The little man shrugged his shoulders and bowed deferen- 
 tially, yet with the smile still dancing gayly in his eyes and 
 dimpling his olive cheeks. 
 
 '■'' Oh, certainly ! As the signor pleases — ma — " And he 
 ended with another expressive shrug and bow. 
 
 I looked at him fixedly. "What do you mean ? " I asked 
 with some sternness. 
 
 With that birdlike lightness and swiftness which were part 
 of his manner, the Sicilian skipper bent forward and laid a 
 brown finger on my wrist. 
 
 " Scusa, vigrego I But the hands are not those of a fishei 
 of coraj." 
 
fz nuamnut * 
 
 I glanced <kwra at tnem. True enough, their awwiluiesa 
 and pliant shape betrayed my disguise — the gay little captain 
 was sharp-witted enough to note the contrast between them 
 and the rough garb I wore, though no one else with whom I 
 had come in contact had been as keen of observation as he, 
 At first I war> slightly embarrassed by his remark — but afret 
 a moment's g>ause I met his gaze frankly, and lighting mf 
 cigarette I said, carelessly : 
 
 * Ebbenet And what then, my friend ? n 
 
 He made a deprecatory gesture with his hands, 
 
 " Nay, nay, nothing— but only this. The signor most mv 
 lerstand he is perfectly safe with me, My tongue is dis- 
 creet — I talk of things only that concern myself. The sig 
 nor has good reasons for what he does—of that I am sure. 
 He has suffered ; it is enough to look in his face to see that 
 Ah, JDto / there are so many sorrows in life ; there is love," 
 he enumerated rapidly on his fingers—" there is revenge — 
 >here are quarrels-— there is loss of money ; any of these will 
 drive a man from place to place at all hours and in all 
 weathers. Yes ; it is so, indeed — I know it 1 The signot 
 has trusted himself in my boat— I desire to assure him of my 
 best services.' 5 
 
 And he raised his red cap with so charming a candor that 
 In my lonely and morose condition I was touched to the 
 heart Silently I extended my hand — he caught it with an 
 air in which respect, sympathy, and entire friendliness were 
 mingled. And yet he overcharged me for my passage, you 
 exclaim ! Ay — but he would not have made me the object 
 of impertinent curiosity for twenty times the money ! Yon 
 cannot understand the existence of such conflicting elements 
 in the Italian character I No— -I dare say not The ten- 
 dency of the calculating northerner under the same circum- 
 stances would have been to make as much out of me as pos- 
 sible by means of various small and contemptible items, and 
 then to go with broadly honest countenance to the nearest 
 police-station and describe my suspicious appearance and 
 manner, thus exposing me to fresh expense besides personal 
 annoyance. With the rare tact that distinguishes the 
 iouthern races the captain changed the conversation by a 
 inference to the tobacco we were both enjoying. 
 
 M It is good, is it not ? " he asked. 
 
 * Excellent I M I answered, as indeed it was. 
 
 B& white teeth glittered in a smile of amusement 
 
 * It ttexM be of th# finest <juality*™£or Kit ft 
 
VBNDErrA* 11 
 
 ^e who will smoke nothing but the choice brands. Ab 
 Vio / what a fine gentleman spoiled is Carmelo Neri ! " 
 
 I could not repress a slight start of surprise. What ca- 
 price of Fate associated me with this famous brigand ? I was 
 actually smoking his tobacco, and I owed all my present 
 wealth to his stolen treasures secreted in my family vault ! 
 
 " You know the man, then ? " I inquired with some cur* 
 Vsity. 
 
 " Know him ? As well as I know myself. Let me see, ft 
 is two months — yes — two months to-day since he was with 
 me on board this very vessel. It happened in this way — 1 
 was at Gaeta — he came to me and told me the gendarme* 
 were after him. He oflered me more gold than I ever had 
 in my life to take him to Termini, from whence he could get 
 to one of his hiding-places in the Montemaggiore. Ha 
 brought Teresa with him ; he found me alone on the brig— 
 my men had gone ashore. He said, ' Take us to Termini 
 and I will give you so much ; refuse and I wiil slit youi 
 throat/ Ha 1 ha ! ha ! That was good, I laughed at him 
 I put a chair for Teresa on deck, and gave her some big 
 peaches. I said, ' See, my Carmelo ! what use is there in 
 threats ? You will not kill me, and I shall not betray you. 
 You are a thief, and a bad thief — by all the saints you are — 
 but I dare say you would not be much worse than the hotel 
 keepers, if you could only keep your hand off your knife. 
 (For you know, signor, if you once enter a hotel you must 
 pay almost a ransom before you can get out again !) Yes — 
 and I reasoned with Carmelo in this manner : I told him, * I 
 do not want a large fortune for carrying you and Teresa 
 across to Termini — pay me the just passage and we shall 
 part friends, if only for Teresa : s sake/ Well, he was sur- 
 prised. He smiled that dark smile of his, which may mean 
 gratitude or murder. He looked at Teresa. She sprung up 
 from her seat, and let her peaches fall from her lap on the 
 deck. She put her little hands on mine — the tears were in 
 her pretty blue eyes. 'You are a good man,' she said. 
 * Some woman must love you very much ! ' Yes — she said 
 that. And she was right. Our Lady be praised for it ! " 
 
 And his dark eyes glanced upward with a devout gesture 
 of thanksgiving. I looked at him with a sort of jealous 
 hunger gnawing at my heart. Here was another self deluded 
 fool — a fond wretch feasting on the unsubstantial food of a 
 pleasant dream — a poor dupe who believed in the truth of 
 woman I a ? " "« f , * 
 
}4 MrmrDETTAi 
 
 u Yo* are a happy man," I said with a forced smile ; u yoo 
 have a guiding star for your life as well as for your boat — a 
 woman who loves you and is faithful ? is it so ? " 
 
 He answered me directly and simply, raising his cap 
 slightly as he did so. 
 
 " Yes, signor — my mother." 
 
 I was deeply touched by his naive and unexpected reply— 
 toore deeply than I cared to show. A bitter regret stirred 
 In my soul — why, oh, why had my mother died so young ! 
 Why had I never known the sacred joy that seemed to vi 
 brate through the frame, and sparkle in the eyes of this com* 
 mon sailor ! Why must I be forever alone, with a curse of a 
 woman's lie on my life, weighing me down to the dust and 
 ashes of a desolate despair ! Something in my face must 
 have spoken my thoughts, for the captain said, gently : 
 
 " The signor has no mother ? " 
 
 u She died when I was but a child," I answered, briefly. 
 
 The Sicilian puffed lightly at his cigarette in silence—the 
 silence of an evident compassion. To relieve him of his 
 friendly embarrassment, I said : 
 
 " You spoke of Teresa f Who is Teresa ? n 
 
 44 Ah, you may well ask, signor ! No one knows who she 
 is ; she loves Carmelo Neri, and there all is said. Such a lit- 
 tle thing she is — so delicate ! like a foam-bell on the waves; 
 and Carmelo— You have seen Carmelo, signor?" 
 
 I shook my head in the negative. 
 
 44 Ebbenet Carmelo is big and rough and black like a wolf 
 of the forests, all hair and fangs ; Teresa is, well ! you have 
 seen a little cloud in the sky at night, wandering past the moon 
 all flecked with pale gold ? — that is Teresa. She is small 
 and slight as a child ; she has rippling curls, and soft praying 
 eyes, and tiny, weak, white hands, not strong enough to snap 
 a twig in two. Yet she can do anything with Carmelo — she 
 is the one soft spot in his life." 
 
 " I wonder if she is true to him," I muttered, half to my* 
 self and half aloud. 
 
 The captain caught up my words with an accent of surprise. 
 
 " True to him ? Ah, Dio / but the signor does not know 
 her. There was one of Carmelo's own band, as bold and 
 handsome a cut-throat as ever lived — he was mad for Teresa— 
 he followed her everywhere like a beaten cur. One day he 
 found her alone ; he tried to embrace her — she snatched a 
 knife from his own girdle and stabbed him with it, like a 
 little furv! She did not kill him then, but Carmelo did 
 
^EXDBfTAt 75 
 
 afterward. To think of a little woman Eke that with such a 
 
 devil in her I It is her boast that no man, save Carmelo, 
 has ever touched so much as a ringlet of her hair. Ay ; she 
 is true to him — more's the pity." 
 
 "Why — you would not have her false ? " I asked. 
 
 " Nay, nay — for a false woman deserves death — but still it 
 is a pity Teresa should have fixed her love on Carmelo. Such 
 a man ! One day the gendarmes will have him, then he will 
 be in the galleys for life, and she will die. Yes — you may be 
 sure of that ! If grief does not kill her quickly enough, then 
 ihe will kill herself, that is certain ! She is slight and frail to 
 look at as a flower, but her soul is strong as iron. She will 
 have her own way in death as well as in love — some women 
 are made so, and it is generally the weakest-looking among 
 diem who have the most courage." 
 
 Our conversation was here interrupted by one of the sailors 
 who came for his master's orders. The talkative skipper, with 
 an apologetic smile and bow, placed his box of cigarettes 
 beside me where I sat, and left me to my own reflections. 
 
 I was not sorry to be alone. I needed a little breathing time 
 — a rest in which to think, though my thoughts, like a new 
 solar system, revolved round the red planet of one central idea, 
 Vengeance, " A false woman deserves death." Even this 
 simple Sicilian mariner said so. " Go and kill her, go and kill 
 her ! " These words reiterated themselves over and over again 
 in my ears, till I found myself almost uttering them aloud. 
 My soul sickened at the contemplation of the woman Teresa — 
 the mistress of a wretched brigand whose name was fraught 
 with korror — whose looks were terrific — she, even she could 
 keep herself sacred from the profaning touch of other men's 
 caresses — she was proud of being faithful to her wolf of the 
 mountains, whose temper was uncertain and treacherous — she 
 could make lawful boast of her fidelity to her blood-stained 
 lover — while Nina — the wedded wife of a noble whose descent 
 was lofty and unsullied, could tear off the fair crown of honor* 
 able marriage and cast it in the dust — could take the dignity 
 of an ancient family and trample upon it — could make hersefi 
 so low and vile that even this common Teresa, knowing all, 
 might and most probably would, refuse to touch her hand, con- 
 sidering it polluted. Just God ! what had Carmelo Neri done 
 to deserve the priceless jewel of a true woman's heart ? what 
 had /done to merit such foul deception as that which I was 
 now called upon to avenge ? Suddenly I thought of my child. 
 H§? memory caxoe upon me likearayof light— t hari almost 
 
76 VENDETTA l 
 
 forgotten her. Poor little blossom ! — the slow hot tears forced 
 themselves between my eyelids, as I called up before my fancy 
 the picture of the soft baby face — the young untroubled eyes — 
 the little coaxing mouth always budding into innocent kisses ! 
 What should I do with her ? When the plan of punishment I 
 had matured in my brain was carried out to its utmost, should 
 I take her with me far, far away into some quiet corner of the 
 world, and devote my life to hers ? Alas 1 alas ! she, too, 
 would be a woman and beautiful — she was a flower born of a 
 poisoned tree, who could say that there might not be a canker- 
 worm hidden even in her heart, which waited but for the touch 
 of maturity to commence its work of destruction ! Oh, men ! 
 you that have serpents coiled round your lives in the shape of 
 fair false women — if God has given you children by them, the 
 curse descends upon you doubly ! Hide it as you will under 
 the society masks we are all forced to wear, you know there is 
 nothing mor< keenly torturing than to see innocent babes look 
 trustingly in the deceitful eyes of an unfaithful wife, and 
 call her by the sacred name of " Mother''' Eat ashes and 
 drink wormwood, you shall find them sweet in comparison to 
 that nauseating bitterness ! For the rest of the day I was very 
 much alone. The captain of the brig spoke cheerily to me 
 now and then, but we were met by light contrary winds that 
 necessitated his giving most of his attention to the manage- 
 ment of his vessel, so that he could not permit himself to 
 yield to the love of gossip that was inherent in him. The 
 weather was perfect, and notwithstanding our constant shift- 
 ing and tacking about to catch the erratic breeze, the gay 
 little brig made merry and rapid way over the sparkling 
 Mediterranean, at a rate that promised our arrival at Palermo 
 by the sunset of the following day. As the evening came on 
 the wind freshened, and by the time the moon soared like a 
 large bright bird into the sky, we were scudding along side- 
 ways, the edge of our vessel leaning over to kiss the waves 
 that gleamed like silver and gold, flecked here and there with 
 phosphorescent flame. We skimmed almost under the bows 
 of a magnificent yacht — the English flag floated from her 
 mast — her sails glittered purely white in the moonbeams, and 
 she sprung over the water like a sea-gull. A man, whose 
 tall athletic figure was shown off to advantage by the yachting 
 costume he wore, stood on deck, his arm thrown round the 
 waist of a girl beside him. We were but a minute or two 
 passing the stately vessel, yet I saw plainly this loving grouf 
 of two, and — I pitied the man ! Why ? He was English un« 
 
VENDETTA t ft 
 
 dbubtedly— the son of a country where the very soil is sup 
 posed to be odorous of virtue — therefore the woman beside 
 nim must be a perfect pearl of purity ; an Englishman never 
 makes a mistake in these things ! Never ? Are you sure " 
 Ah, believe me, there is not much difference nowadays be- 
 tween women of opposite nations. Once there was — I am 
 willing to admit that possibility. Once, from all accounts 
 received, the English rose was the fitting emblem of the Eng- 
 lish woman, but now, since the world has grown so wise and 
 made such progress in the art of running rapidly downhill, is 
 even the aristocratic British peer quite easy in his mind re- 
 garding his fair peeress ? Can he leave her to her own de* 
 vices with safety ? Are there not men, boastful too of their 
 " blue blood," who are perhaps ready to stoop to the thief's trick 
 of entering his house during his absence by means of private 
 keys, and stealing away his wife's affections ? — and is not she, 
 though a mother of three or four children, ready to receive 
 with favor the mean robber of her husband's rights and honor ? 
 Read the London newspapers any day and you will find that 
 once " moral " England is running a neck and neck race with 
 other less hypocritical nations in pursuit of social vice. The 
 barriers that once existed are broken down ; " professional 
 beauties " are received in circles where their presence for- 
 merly would have been the signal for all respectable women 
 instantly to retire ; ladies of title are satisfied to caper on the 
 boards of the theatrical stage, in costumes that display their 
 shape as undisguisedly as possible to the eyes of the grin- 
 ning public, or they sing in concert halls for the pleasure of 
 showing themselves off, and actually accept the vulgar ap- 
 plause of unwashed crowds with a smile and a bow of grati- 
 tude 1 Ye gods I what has become of the superb pride of 
 the old rkigme — the pride which disdained all ostentation and 
 clung to honor more closely than life ! What a striking sign 
 of the times too, is this : let a woman taint her virtue before 
 marriage, she is never forgiven — her sin is never forgotten ; 
 but let her do what she will when she has a husband's name 
 to screen her, and society winks its eyes at her crimes. 
 Couple this fact with the general spirit of mockery that pre- 
 vails in fashionabls circles — mockery of religion, mockery of 
 sentiment, mockery of all that is best and noblest in the 
 human heart — add to it the general spread of " free-thought," 
 and therefore of conflicting and unstable opinions — let all 
 these things together go on for a few years longer and Eng- 
 tax* will stare at her sister nations like a bold woman in a 
 
fg VENDETTA! 
 
 domino — her features partly concealed from a pretense at 
 shame, but her eyes glittering coldly through the mask, betray- 
 ing to all who look at her how she secretly revels in her new 
 code of lawlessness coupled with greed. For she will always 
 be avaricious — and the worst of it is, that her nature being 
 prosaic, there will be no redeeming grace to cast a glamour 
 about her. France is unvirtuous enough, God knows, yet 
 there is a sunshiny smile on her lips that cheers the heart 
 Italy is also unvirtuous, yet her voice is full of bird-like 
 melody, and her face is a dream of perfect poetry ! But Eng- 
 land unvirtuous will be like a cautiously calculating, some- 
 what shrewish matron, possessed of unnatural and unbecom- 
 ing friskiness, without either laugh, or song, or smile — her 
 one god, Gold, and her one commandment, the suggested 
 eleventh, " Thou shall ?iot be found out / " 
 
 I slept that night on deck. The captain offered me the use 
 of his little cabin, and was, in his kind-hearted manner, truly 
 distressed at my persistent refusal to occupy it. 
 
 " It is bad to sleep in the moonlight, signor," he said, anx- 
 iously. " It makes men mad, they say." 
 
 I smiled. Had madness been my destiny, I should have 
 gone mad last night, I thought ! 
 
 " Have no fear ! " I answered him, gently. " The moon- 
 light is a joy to me — it has no impression on my mind save 
 that of peace. I shall rest well here, my friend — do not 
 trouble yourself about me." 
 
 He hesitated and then abruptly left me, to return in the 
 space of two or three minutes with a thick rug of sheepskin. 
 He insisted so earnestly on my accepting this covering as a 
 protection from the night air, that, to please him, I yielded to 
 his entreaties and lay down, wrapped in its warm folds. The 
 good-natured fellow then wished me a "Buon riposo, signor ! " 
 and descended to his own resting-place, humming a gay tune 
 as he went. From my recumbent posture on the deck I 
 stared upward at the myraid stars that twinkled softly in the 
 warm violet skies — stared long and fixedly till it seemed to me 
 that our ship had also become a star, and was sailing through 
 space with its glittering companions. What inhabitants peo- 
 pled those fair planets, I wondered? Mere men and women 
 who lived and loved and lied to one another as bravely as we 
 do ? or superior beings to whom the least falsehood is un- 
 known ? Was there one world among them where no women 
 were born ? Vague fancies — odd theories — flitted through 
 my brain. I lived over again the agony of my imprisonment 
 
VENDETTA I 79 
 
 in the vaults — again I forced myself to contemplate the scena 
 I had witnessed between my wife and her lover — again I 
 meditated on every small detail requisite to the fulfillment of 
 the terrible vengeance I had designed. I have often won- 
 dered how, in countries where divorce is allowed, a wronged 
 husband can satisfy himself with so meager a compensation 
 f or his injuries as the mere getting rid of the woman who has 
 deceived him. It is no punishment to her — it is what she 
 wishes. There is not even any very special disgrace in it ac- 
 cording to the present standard of social observances. Were 
 public whipping the recognized penalty for the crime of a 
 married woman's infidelity, there would be fewer of the like 
 scandals — the divorce might follow the scourging. A daintily 
 brought-up feminine creature would think twice, nay, fifty 
 times, before she would run the risk of allowing her deli- 
 cate body to be lashed by whips wielded by the merciless hands 
 of a couple of her own sex — such a prospect of degradation, 
 pain, shame, and outraged vanity would be more effectual to 
 kill the brute in her than all the imposing ceremonials of 
 courts of law and special juries. Think of it, kings, lords, 
 and commons ! Whipping at the cart's tail was once a legal 
 punishment — if you would stop the growing immorality and 
 reckless vice of women you had best revive it again — only 
 apply it to rich as well as to poor, for it is most probable that 
 the gay duchesses and countesses of your lands will need its 
 sharp services more frequently than the work-worn wives oi 
 your laboring men. Luxury, idleness, and love of dress are 
 hot-beds for sin — look for it, therefore, not so much in the 
 hovels of the starving and naked as in the rose-tinted, musk- 
 scented boudoirs of the aristocracy — look for it, as your brave 
 physicians would search out the seeds of a pestilence that 
 threatens to depopulate a great city, and trample it out if you 
 can and will — if you desire to keep the name of your countries 
 glorious in the eyes of future history. Spare not the rod be- 
 cause " my lady " forsooth ! with her rich hair falling around 
 her in beauteous dishevelment and her eyes bathed in tears, 
 implores your mercy — for by very reason of her wealth and 
 station she deserves less pity than the painted outcast who 
 knows not where to turn for bread. A high post demands 
 high duty ! But I talk wildly. Whipping is done away with, 
 for women at least — we give a well-bred shudder of disgust at 
 the thought of it. When do we shudder with equal disgust at 
 our own social enormities ? " Seldom or never. Meanwhile, 
 in cases of infidelity, husbands and wives can separate and go 
 
go VENDETTA i 
 
 on their different ways in comparative peace. Yes — son% 
 can and some do ; but I am not one of these. No law in aU thi 
 world can mend the torn flag of my honor ; therefore I mu& 
 be a law to myself — a counsel, a jury, a judge, all in one-- 
 and from my decision there can be no appeal ! Then I mu^* 
 act as executioner — and what torture was ever so perfectly 
 unique as the one I have devised ? So I mused, lying broadl) 
 awake, with face upturned to the heavens, watching the light 
 of the moon pouring itself out on the ocean like a shower oh 
 gold, while the water rushed gurgling softly against the side* 
 of the brig, and broke into the laughter of white foam as w# 
 scudded along. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 All the next day the wind was in our favor, and we arrive 
 at Palermo an hour before sunset. We had scarcely run intt 
 harbor when a small party of officers and gendarmes, heavily 
 laden with pistols and carbines, came on board and showed ^ 
 document authorizing them to search the brig for Carmek 
 Neri. I was somewhat anxious for the safety of my good 
 friend the captain — but he was in nowise dismayed ; he smiley 
 and welcomed the armed emissaries of the government a^. 
 though they were his dearest friends. 
 
 "To give you my opinion frankly," he said to them, as h* 
 opened a flask of fine Chianti for their behoof, " I believe 
 the villain Carmelo is somewhere about Gaeta. I would not 
 tell you a lie — why should I ? Is there not a reward offered, 
 and am not I poor ? Look you, I would do my best to assist 
 you ! " 
 
 One of the men looked at him dubiously. 
 
 w We received information," he said, in precise, business- 
 like tones, " that Neri escaped from Gaeta two months since, 
 and was aided and abetted in his escape by one Andres, 
 Luziani, owner of the coasting brig ' Laura,' journeying for 
 purposes of trade between Naples and Palermo. You are 
 Andrea Luziani, and this is the brig ' Laura,' — we are right 
 in this ; is it not so ? " 
 
 " As if you could ever be wrong, caro ! " cried the captain 
 with undiminished gayety, clapping him on the shoulder. 
 " Nay, if St. Peter should have the bad taste to shut you out 
 of heaven, you would be cunning enough to find another and 
 better entrance I Ah, Dio / I believe it I Yes, you are right 
 
VENDETTA t St 
 
 about my name and the name of my brig, but in the other 
 things," — here he shook his fingers with an expressive sign 
 of denial — " you are wrong — wrong — all wrong ! " He broke 
 into a gay laugh. " Yes, wrong — but we will not quarrel 
 about it ! Have some more Chianti ! Searching for brig- 
 ands is thirsty work. Fill your glasses, amici — spare not 
 :he flask — there are twenty more below stairs ! " 
 
 The officers smiled in spite of themselves, as they drank 
 :he proffered wine, and the youngest-looking of the party, 
 a brisk, handsome fellow, entered into the spirit of the cap* 
 tain with ardor, though he evidently thought he should trap 
 him into a confession unawares, by the apparent careless- 
 ness and bonhomie of his manner." 
 
 " Bravo, Andrea ! " he cried, merrily. " So ! let us all be 
 friends together ! Besides, what harm is there in taking a 
 brigand for a passenger — no doubt he would pay you better 
 than most cargoes ! " 
 
 But Andrea was not to be so caught. On the contrary , 
 he raised his hands and eyes with an admirably feigned ex- 
 pression of shocked alarm. 
 
 " Our Lady and the saints forgive you ! " he exclaimed, 
 piously, " for thinking that I, an honest marmaro, would ac- 
 cept one baiocco from an accursed brigand ! Ill-luck would 
 follow me ever after 1 Nay, nay — there has been a mistake ; 
 I know nothing of Carmelo Neri, and I hope the saints will 
 grant that I may never meet him ! " 
 
 He spoke with so much apparent sincerity that the officers 
 in command were evidently puzzled, though the fact of their 
 being so did not deter them from searching the brig thorough- 
 ly. Disappointed in their expectations, they questioned all 
 on board, including myself, but were of course unable to 
 obtain any satisfactory replies. Fortunately they accepted 
 my costume as a sign of my trade, and though they glanced 
 curiously at my white hair, they seemed to think there was 
 nothing suspicious about me. After a few more effusive 
 compliments and civilities on the part of the captain, they 
 took their departure, completely baffled, and quite convinced 
 that the information they had received had been somehow 
 incorrect. As soon as they were out of sight, the mt~~* 
 Andrea capered on his deck like a child in a play-ground, 
 and snapped his fingers defiantly. 
 
 " Per Bacco / " he cried, ecstatically, " they should as soon 
 
 make a priest tell confessional secrets, as force me, honest 
 
 Andrea Luziani, to betray a man_who_Jias given me good 
 
 6 
 
It ¥M*?&ETT4i 
 
 cigars t Let them run back to Gaeta and hunt In every hote 
 and corner I Carmelo may rest comfortably in the Monte- 
 maggiore without the shadow of a gendarme to disturb hira ! 
 Ah, signor ! " for I had advanced to bid him farewell — " I 
 am truly sorry to part company with you ! You do not 
 blame me for helping away a poor devil who trusts me?" 
 
 " Not I ! " I answered him heartily. "On the contrary, I 
 would there were more like you. Addio / and with this,* 
 here I gave him the passage-money we had agreed upon» 
 M accept my thanks. I shall not forget your kindness ; it 
 you ever need a friend, send to me." 
 
 * But," he said, with a naSve mingling of curiosity and 
 timidity, " how can I do that if the signor does not tell me 
 his name?" 
 
 I had thought of this during the past night I knew it 
 would be necessary to take a different name, and I had re- 
 solved on adopting that of a school-friend, a boy to whom I 
 had been profoundly attached in my earliest youth, and who 
 had been drowned before my eyes while bathing in the Vene- 
 tian Lido. So I answered Andrea's question at once and 
 without effort 
 
 u Ask for the Count Cesare Oliva," I said. " I shall re- 
 turn to Naples shortly, and should you seek me, you will find 
 me there." 
 
 The Sicilian doffed his cap and saluted me profoundly. 
 
 ** I guessed well," he remarked, smilingly, " that the Sig- 
 nor Conte's hands were not those of a coral-fisher. Oh, yes t 
 I know a gentleman when I see him — though we Sicilians 
 say we are all gentlemen. It is a good boast, but alas 1 not 
 always true ! A rivederci, signor t Command me when you 
 will — I am your servant ! " 
 
 Pressing his band, I sprung lightly from the brig on to the 
 quay. 
 
 " A rivederd / " I called to him. " Again, and yet again, 
 a thousand thanks I " 
 
 "Oh I tropf onore, signor— tropf onoref" and thus I left 
 him, standing still bareheaded on the deck of his little vessel, 
 with a kindly light on his brown face like the reflection of a 
 fadeless sunbeam. Good-hearted, merry rogue I His ideas of 
 right and wrong were oddly mixed — yet his lies were better 
 than many truths told us by our candid friends — and you 
 may be certain the great Recording Angel knows the differ- 
 ence between a lie that saves and a truth that kills, and 
 out Heaven's reward or punishment Accordingly 
 
VENDETTA i $3 
 
 My first care, when I found myself in the streets of 
 
 Palermo, was to purchase clothes of the best material and 
 make adapted to a gentleman's wear. I explained to the 
 tailor whose shop I entered for this purpose that I had joined 
 a party of coral-fishers for mere amusement, and had /or the 
 time adopted their costume. He believed my story the more 
 readily as I ordered him to make several more suits for me 
 immediately, giving him the name of Count Cesare Oliva, 
 and the address of the best hotel in the city. He served me 
 with obsequious humility, and allowed me the use of hia 
 private back-room, where I discarded my fisher garb for the 
 dress of a gentleman — a ready-made suit that happened to 
 fit me passably welL Thus arrayed as became my station, I 
 engaged rooms at the chief hotel of Palermo for some weeks 
 —weeks that were for me full of careful preparation for the 
 task of vengeful retribution that lay before me. One of my 
 principal objects was to place the money I had with me in 
 safe hands. I sought out the leading banker in Palermo, 
 and introducing myself under my adopted name, I stated 
 that I had newly returned to Sicily after some years' absence. 
 He received me well, and though he appeared astonished at 
 the large amount of wealth I had brought, he was eager and 
 willing enough to make satisfactory arrangements with me 
 for its safe keeping, including the bag of jewels, some of 
 which, from their unusual size and luster, excited his genuine 
 admiration. Seeing this, I pressed on his acceptance a fine 
 emerald and two large brilliants, all unset, and requested him 
 to have a ring made of them for his own wear. Surprised at 
 my generosity, he at first refused — but his natural wish to 
 possess such rare gems finally prevailed, and he took them, 
 overpowering me with thanks — while I was perfectly satisfied 
 to see that I had secured his services so thoroughly by my 
 jeweled bribe, that he either forgot, or else saw no necessity 
 to ask me for personal references, which in my position would 
 have been exceeding difficult, if not impossible, to obtain* 
 When this business transaction was entirely completed, I 
 devoted myself to my next consideration — which was to dis- 
 guise myself so utterly that no one should possibly be able 
 to recognize the smallest resemblance in me to the late Fabio 
 Romani, either by look, voice, or trick of manner. I had 
 always worn a mustache — it had turned white in company 
 with my hair. I now allowed my beard to grow — it came 
 out white also. But in contrast with these contemporary 
 signs of age, my face began to 611 up and look young again? 
 
64 VENDETTA t 
 
 my eyes, always large and dark, resumed their old flashing 
 half-defiant look — a look, which it seemed to me, would make 
 some familiar suggestion to those who had once known me 
 as I was before I died. Yes — they spoke of things that 
 must be forgotten and unuttered •, what should I do with 
 these tell-tale eyes of mine ? 
 
 I thought, and soon decided. Nothing was easier than to 
 feign weak sight — sight that was dazzled by the heat and 
 brilliancy of the southern sunshine ; I would wear smoke- 
 colored glasses. I bought them as soon as the idea occur- 
 red to me, and alone in my room before the mirror I tried 
 their effect. I was satisfied ; they perfectly completed the 
 disguise of my face. With them and my white hair and 
 beard, I looked like a well-preserved man of fifty-five or so, 
 whose only physical ailment was a slight affection of the 
 eyes. 
 
 The next thing to alter was my voice. I had, naturally t 
 a peculiarly soft voice and a rapid, yet clear, enunciation, 
 and it was my habit, as it is the habit of almost every Italian, 
 to accompany my words with the expressive pantomime of 
 gesture. I took myself in training as an actor studies for a 
 particular part. I cultivated a harsh accent, and spoke with 
 deliberation and coldness — occasionally with a sort of sarcas- 
 tic brusquerie % carefully avoiding the least movement of hands 
 or head during converse. This was exceedingly difficult of 
 attainment to me, and took me an infinite deal of time and 
 trouble ; but I had for my model a middle-aged Englishman 
 who was staying in the same hotel as myself, and whose 
 starched stolidity never relaxed for a single instant He was 
 a human iceberg— perfectly respectable, with that air ci 
 decent gloom about him which is generally worn by all the 
 sons of Britain while sojourning in a foreign clime. I copied 
 his manners as closely as possible ; I kept my mouth shut 
 with the same precise air of not-to-be-enlightened obstinacy 
 —I walked with the same upright drill demeanor — and I sur- 
 veyed the scenery with the same superior contempt. I knew 
 I had succeeded at last, for I overheard a waiter speaking of 
 me to his companion as " the white bear 1 n 
 
 One other thing I did. I wrote a courteous note to ths 
 editor of the principal newspaper published in Naples — a 
 newspaper that I knew always found its way to the Villa 
 Romani — and inclosing fifty francs, I requested him to insert 
 a paragraph for me in his next Issue. This paragraph was 
 warded somewhat a* folkm % 
 
VENDETTA ! 85 
 
 " The Signor Conte Cesare Oliva, a nobleman who has 
 6een for many years absent from his native country, has, 
 we understand, just returned, possessed of almost fabulous 
 wealth, and is about to arrive in Naples, where he purposes 
 making his home for the future. The leaders of society here 
 will no doubt welcome with enthusiasm so distinguished an 
 addition to the brilliant circles commanded by their influ- 
 ence." 
 
 The editor obeyed my wishes, and inserted what I sent 
 him, word for word as it was written. He sent me the paper 
 containing it " with a million compliments," but was dis- 
 creetly silent concerning the fifty francs, though I am certain 
 he pocketed them with unaffected joy. Had I sent him 
 double the money, he might have been induced to announce 
 me as a king or emperor in disguise. Editors of newspapers 
 lay claim to be honorable men ; they may be so in England, 
 but in Italy most of them would do anything for money. 
 Poor devils ! who can blame them, considering how little 
 they get by their limited dealings in pen and ink ! In fact, 
 I am not at all certain but that a few English newspaper 
 editors might be found capable of accepting a bribe, if large 
 enough, and if offered with due delicacy. There are surely 
 one or two magazines, for instance, in London, that would 
 not altogether refuse to insert an indifferently, even badly 
 written article, if paid a thousand pounds down for doing 
 it! 
 
 On the last day but one of my sojourn in Palermo I was 
 reclining in an easy-chair at the window of the hotel smok- 
 ing-room, looking out on the shimmering waters of the gulf. 
 It was nearly eight o'clock, and though the gorgeous colors 
 of the sunset still lingered in the sky, the breeze blew in from 
 ;he sea somewhat coldly, giving warning of an approaching 
 chilly night, The character I had adopted, namely that of a 
 somewhat harsh and cynical man who had seen life and did 
 not like it, had by constant hourly practice become with me 
 almost second nature — indeed, I should have had some 
 difficulty in returning to the easy and thoughtless abandon 
 of my former self. I had studied the art of being churlish 
 till I really was churlish ; I had to act the chief character in 
 a drama, and I knew my part thoroughly well. I sat quietly 
 puffing at my cigar and thinking of nothing in particular — for, 
 as far as my plans went, I had done with thought, and all my 
 energies were strung up to action — when I was startled by a 
 loud and increasing clamor, as of the shouting of a large 
 
86 VENDETTA ! 
 
 crowd coming onward like an overflowing tide. I leaned 
 «ut of the window, but could see nothing, and I was wonder- 
 ing what the noise could mean, when an excited waiter threw 
 open the door of the smoking-room and cried, breathlessly : 
 
 " Carmelo Neri, signor ! Carmelo Neri ! They have him, 
 poverino / they have him nt last ! " 
 
 Though almost as strongly interested in this news as the 
 waiter himself, I did not permit my interest to become mani- 
 fest. I never forgot for a second the character I had 
 assumed, and drawing the cigar slowly from my lips I merely 
 said : 
 
 " Then they have caught a great rascal. I congratulate 
 the Government ! Where is the fellow ? " 
 
 " In the great square," returned the gar f on, eagerly. " If 
 the signor would walk round the corner he would see Car- 
 melo, bound and fettered. The saints have mercy upon 
 fiim ! The crowds there are thick as flies round a honey- 
 comb ! I must go thither myself — I would not miss the 
 sight for a thousand francs ! " 
 
 And he ran off, as full of the anticipated delight of looking 
 at a brigand as a child going to its first fair. I put on my hat 
 and strolled leisurely round to the scene of excitement. It 
 was a picturesque sight enough ; the square was black with a 
 sea of eager heads, and restless, gesticulating figures, and the 
 center of this swaying, muttering crowd was occupied by a 
 compact band of mounted gendarmes with drawn swords flash- 
 ing in the pale evening light — both horses and men nearly as 
 motionless as though cast in bronze. They were stationed op- 
 posite the head-quarters of Xh&Carabinieri, where the chief 
 officer of the party had dismounted to make his formal report 
 respecting the details of the capture before proceeding further. 
 Between these armed and watchful guards, with his legs 
 strapped to a sturdy mule, his arms tied fast behind him, and 
 his hands heavily manacled, was the notorious Neri, as dark 
 and fierce as a mountain thunder-storm. His head was uncov- 
 ered — his thick hair, long and unkempt, hung in matted locks 
 upon his shoulders — his heavy mustachios and beard were so 
 black and bushy that they almost concealed his coarse and 
 forbidding features — though I could see the tiger-like glitter 
 of his sharp white teeth as he bit and gnawed his under lip in 
 impotent fury and despair — and his eyes, like leaping flames, 
 blazed with a wrathful erocity from under his shaggy brows. 
 He was a huge, heavy man, broad and muscular ; his two 
 great hands clinched, tied and, manacled behind him, iQQked 
 
VENDETTA! 87 
 
 like formidable hammers capable of striking a man down dead 
 at one blow ; his whole aspect was repulsive and terrible — 
 there was no redeeming point about him — for even the 
 apparent fortitude he assumed was mere bravado — meretri- 
 cious courage — which the first week of the galleys would crush 
 out of him as easily as one crushes the juice out of a ripe 
 grape. He wore a nondescript costume of vari-colored linen, 
 arranged in folds that would have been the admiration of an 
 artist. It was gathered about him by means of a brilliant 
 scarlet sash negligently tied. His brawny arms were bare to 
 the shoulder — his vest was open, and displayed his strong 
 brown throat and chest heaving with the pent-up anger and 
 fear that raged within him. His dark grim figure was set off 
 by a curious effect of color in the sky — a long wide band of 
 crimson cloud, as though the sun-god had thrown down a 
 goblet of ruby wine and left it to trickle along the smooth 
 blue fairness of his palace floor — a deep after-glow, which 
 burned redly on the olive-tinted eager faces of the multitude 
 that were everywhere upturned in wonder and ill-judged 
 admiration to the brutal blackface of the notorious murderer 
 and thief, whose name had for years been the terror of Sicily. 
 I pressed through the crowd to obtain a nearer view, and as 
 I did so a sudden savage movement of Neri's bound body 
 caused the gendarmes to cross their swords in front of his 
 eyes with a warning clash. The brigand laughed hoarsely. 
 
 " Corpo di Cristo ! " he muttered — "think you a man tied 
 hand and foot can run like a deer ? I am trapped — I know 
 it ! But tell him" and he indicated some person In the 
 throng by a nod of his head, " tell him to come hither — I 
 have a message for him." 
 
 The gendarmes looked at one another, and then at the 
 swaying crowd about them in perplexity — they did not under- 
 stand. 
 
 Carmelo, without wasting more words upon them, raised 
 himself as uprightly as he could in his strained and bound 
 position, and called aloud : 
 
 " Luigi Biscardi ! Capitano / Oh he — you thought I 
 could not see you \ Dio / I should know you in hell ! 
 Come near I have a parting word for you." 
 
 At the sound of his strong harsh voice, a silence half of ter- 
 ror, half of awe, fell upon the chattering multitude. There 
 was a sudden stir as the people made way for a young man 
 to pass through their ranks — a slight, tall, rather handsome 
 fellow, with a pale face and cold, sneering eyes. He was 
 
£8 VEtfDETTAt 
 
 dressed with fastidious care and neatness in the uniform of 
 the Bersagliere — and he elbowed his way along with the easy 
 audacity of a privileged dandy. He came close up to the 
 brigand and spoke carelessly, with a slightly mocking smile 
 playing round the corners of his mouth. 
 
 " Ebbene ! " he said, " you are caught at last, Carmelo I 
 V^ou called me — here I am. What do you want with me, 
 rascal ? " 
 
 Neri uttered a ferocious curse between his teeth, and 
 looked for an instant like a wild beast ready to spring. 
 
 " You betrayed me," he said in fierce yet smothered 
 accents — " you followed me — you hunted me down ! Teresa 
 told me all. Yes — she belongs to you now — you have got 
 your wish. Go and take her — she waits for you — make her 
 speak and tell you how she loves you — if you can / " 
 
 Something jeering and withal threatening in the ruffian's 
 look, evidently startled the young officer, for he exclaimed 
 hastily : 
 
 " What do you mean, wretch ? You have not — my God I 
 you have not killed her ? " 
 
 Carmelo broke into a loud savage laugh. 
 
 " She has killed herself 1 " he cried, exultingly. " Ha, ha, 
 I thought you would wince at that ! She snatched my knife 
 and stabbed herself with it I Yes — rather than see your 
 lying white face again — rather than feel your accursed touch ! 
 Find her — she lies dead and smiling up there in the mount- 
 ains and her last kiss was for me — for me — you understand ! 
 Now go ! and may the devil curse you ! " 
 
 Again the gendarmes clashed their swords suggestively — 
 and the brigand resumed his sullen attitude of suppresse ' 
 wrath and feigned indifference. But the man to whom ht. 
 had spoken staggered and seemed about to fall — his pale 
 face grew paler — he moved away through the curious open* 
 eyed by-standers with the mechanical air of one who knows 
 not whether he be alive or dead. He had evidently received 
 an unexpected shock — a wound that pierced deeply and would 
 be a long time healing. 
 
 I approached the nearest gendarme and slipped a five- 
 france piece into his hand. 
 
 " May one speak? " I asked, carelessly. The man hesitated 
 
 " For one instant, signor. But be brief. 
 
 I addressed the brigand in a low clear-tone. 
 
 * Have you any message for one Andrea Luziani ? I am a 
 friend of his." 
 
VENDETTA ! 89 
 
 He looked at me and a dark smile crossed his features. 
 
 " Andrea is a good soul. Tell him if you will that Teresa 
 is dead. I am worse than dead. He will know that I did 
 not kill Teresa. I could not ! She had the knife in her 
 breast before I could prevent her. It is better so." 
 
 " She did that rather than become the property of another 
 man ? " I queried. 
 
 Carmelo Neri nodded in acquiescence. Either my sight 
 deceived me, or else this abandoned villain had tears glitter- 
 'ng in the depth of his wicked eyes. 
 
 The gendarme made me a sign, and I withdrew. Almost 
 at the same moment the officer in command of the little de- 
 tachment appeared, his spurs clinking with measured metallic 
 music on the hard stones of the pavement — he sprung into 
 his saddle and gave the word — the crowd dispersed to the 
 right and left — the horses were put to a quick trot, and in a 
 few moments the whole party with the bulky frowning form 
 of the brigand in their midst had disappeared. The people 
 broke up into little groups talking excitedly of what had oc- 
 curred, and scattered here and there, returning to their homes 
 and occupations — and more swiftly than one could have im- 
 agined possible, the great square was left almost empty. I 
 paced up and down for awhile thinking deeply ; I had before 
 my mind's eye the picture of the slight fair Teresa as de- 
 scribed by the Sicilian captain, lying dead in the solitudes 
 of the Montemaggiore with that self-inflicted wound in her 
 breast which had set her free of all men's love and persecu- 
 tion. There were some women then who preferred death to 
 infidelity ? Strange ! very strange ! common women of course 
 they must be — such as this brigand's mistress ; your daintily 
 fed, silk-robed duchess would find a dagger somewhat a 
 vulgar consoler — she would rather choose a lover, or better 
 still a score of lovers. It is only brute ignorance that selects 
 a grave instead of dishonor — modern education instructs us 
 more wisely, and teaches us not to be over-squeamish about 
 such a trifle as breaking a given word or promise. Blessed 
 age of progress ! Age of steady advancement when the 
 apple of vice is so cunningly disguised and so prettily painted 
 that we can actually set it on a porcelain dish and hand it 
 about among our friends as a valuable and choice fruit of 
 virtue — and no one finds out the fraud we are practicing, 
 nay, we scarcely perceive it ourselves, it is such an excellent 
 counterfeit ! 
 
 A3 I walked to and fro, I found myself continually passing 
 
9° 
 
 VENDETTA r 
 
 the head office of the Carabinieri, and, acting on a sudden 
 impulse of curiosity, I at last entered the building, determined 
 to ask for a few particulars concerning the brigand's capture, 
 I was received by a handsome and intelligent-looking man, 
 who glanced at the card with which I presented myself, and 
 saluted me with courteous affability. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " he said, in answer to my inquiries, " Neri has 
 given us a great deal of trouble. But we had our suspicions 
 ihat he had left Gaeta, where he was for a time in hiding. A. 
 few stray bits of information gleaned here and there put us 
 on the right track." 
 
 " Was he caught easily, or did he show fight ? " 
 
 " He gave himself up like a lamb, signor ! It happened in 
 this way. One of our men followed the woman who lived 
 with Neri, one Teresa, and traced her up to a certain point, 
 the corner of a narrow mountain pass — where she disappeared. 
 He reported this, and thereupon we sent out an armed party. 
 These crept at midnight two by two, till they were formed in 
 a close ring round the place where Neri was judged to be. 
 With the first beam of morning they rushed in upon him and 
 took him prisoner. It appears that he showed no surprise — 
 he merely said, ' I expected you ! ' He was found sitting by 
 the dead body of his mistress ; she was stabbed and newly 
 bleeding. No doubt he killed her, though he swears the con- 
 trary — lies are as easy to him as breathing." 
 
 " But where were his comrades ? I thought he commanded 
 a large band ? " 
 
 " So he did, signor ; and we caught three of the principals 
 only a fortnight ago, but of the others no trace can be found. 
 I suppose Carmelo himself dismissed them and sent them 
 far and wide through the country. At any rate, they are 
 disbanded, and with these sort of fellows, where there is no 
 union there is no danger." 
 
 " And Neri's sentence ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, the galleys for life of course ; there is no possible 
 alternative." 
 
 I thanked my informant, and left the office. I was glad to 
 have learned these few particulars, for the treasure I had dis- 
 covered in my own family vault was now more mine than ever. 
 There was not the remotest chance of any one of the Neri 
 band venturing so close to Naples in search of it, and I 
 thought with a grim smile that had the brigand chief himself 
 known the story of my wrongs, he would most probably have 
 rejoiced to think that his buried wealth was destined to aid 
 
VEATDETTAt 91 
 
 file in carrying out so elaborate a plan of vengeance. All 
 difficulties smoothed themselves before me — obstacles were 
 taken out of my path — my way was made perfectly clear — each 
 trifling incident was a new fmger-post pointing out the direct 
 road that led me to the one desired end. God himself seemed 
 on my side, as He is surely ever on the side of justice ! Let 
 not the unfaithful think that because they say long prayers 
 or go regularly and devoutly to church with meek faces and 
 piously folded hands that the Eternal Wisdom is deceived 
 thereby. My wife could pray — she could kneel like a lovely 
 saint in the dim religious light of the sacred altars, her deep 
 eyes upturned to the blameless, infinitely reproachful Christ 
 — and look you ! each word she uttered was a blasphemy, 
 destined to come back upon herself as a curse. Prayer is 
 dangerous for liars — it is like falling willfully on an upright 
 naked sword. Used as an honorable weapon the sword de- 
 fends — snatched up as the last resource of a coward it kills. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The third week of September was drawing to its close 
 when I returned to Naples. The weather had grown cooler, 
 and favorable reports of the gradual decrease of the cholera 
 began to gain ground with the suffering and terrified popu- 
 lation. Business was resumed as usual, pleasure had again 
 her votaries, and society whirled round once more in its 
 giddy waltz as though it had never left off dancing. I arrived 
 in the city somewhat early in the day, and had time to make 
 some preliminary arrangements for my plan of action. I 
 secured the most splendid suite of apartments in the best 
 hotel, impressing the whole establishment with a vast idea 
 of my wealth and importance. I casually mentioned to the 
 landlord that I desired to purchase a carriage and horses — ■ 
 that I needed a first-class valet, and a few other trifles of the 
 like sort, and added that I relied on his good advice and 
 recommendation as to the places where I should best obtain 
 all that I sought. Needless to say, he became my slave — • 
 never was monarch better served than I — the very waiters 
 hustled each other in a race to attend upon me, and reports 
 of my princely fortune, generosity, and lavish expenditure, 
 began to flit from mouth to mouth — which was the result I 
 desired to obtain. 
 
£2 VENDETTA T 
 
 And now the evening of my first day in Naples came, and 
 I, the supposed Conte Cesare Oliva, the envied and flattered 
 noble, took the first step toward my vengeance. It was one 
 of the loveliest evenings possible, even in that lovely land — a 
 soft breeze blew in from the sea — the sky was pearl-like and 
 pure as an opal, yet bright with delicate shifting clouds of 
 crimson and pale mauve — small, fleecy flecks of radiance^ 
 that looked like a shower of blossoms fallen from some fai 
 invisible flower-land. The waters of the bay were slightly 
 ruffled by the wind, and curled into tender little dark-blue 
 waves tipped with light fringes of foam. After my dinner I 
 went out and took my way to a well-known and popular cafi 
 which used to be a favorite haunt of mine in the days when 
 I was known as Fabio Romani. Guido Ferrari was a con- 
 stant habitub of the place, and I felt that I should find him 
 there. The brilliant rose-white and gold saloons were crowded, 
 and owing to the pleasant coolness of the air there were 
 hundreds of little tables pushed far out into the street, at 
 which groups of persons were seated, enjoying ices, wine, or 
 coffee, and congratulating each other on the agreeable news 
 of the steady decrease of the pestilence that had ravaged the 
 city. I glanced covertly yet quickly round. Yes ! I was 
 not mistaken — there was my quondam friend, my traitorous 
 foe, sitting at his ease, leaning comfortably back in one chair, 
 his feet put up on another. He was smoking, and glancing 
 now and then through the columns of the Paris " Figaro." 
 He was dressed entirely in black — a hypocritical livery, the 
 somber hue of which suited his fine complexion and perfectly 
 handsome features to admiration. On the little finger of the 
 shapely hand that every now and then was raised to adjust 
 his cigar, sparkled a diamond that gave out a myriad scintil- 
 lations as it flashed in the evening light — it was of ex- 
 ceptional size and brilliancy, and even at a distance I recog- 
 nized it as my own property ! 
 
 So ! — a love-gift, signor, or an in memoriam of the dear and 
 valued friend you have lost ? I wondered — watching him in 
 dark scorn the while — then recollecting myself, I sauntered 
 slowly toward him, and perceiving a disengaged table next to 
 his, I drew a chair to it and sat down. He looked at me in- 
 differently over the top of his newspaper — but there was 
 nothing specially attractive in the sight of a white-haired man 
 wearing smoke-colored spectacles, and he resumed his perusal 
 of the " Figaro " immediately. I rapped the end of my walk- 
 ing-cane on the table and summoned a waiter from whom I 
 
VENDETTA I 93 
 
 ordered coffee. 1 then lighted a cigar, and imitating Fer- 
 rari's easy posture, smoked also. Something in my attitude 
 then appeared to strike him, for he laid down his paper and 
 again looked at me, this time with more interest and some- 
 thing of uneasiness. u Ca commence, mon ami/" I thought, 
 but I turned my head slightly aside and feigned to be 
 absorbed in the view. My coffee was brought — I paid for 
 it and tossed the waiter an unusually large gratuity — he 
 laturally found it incumbent upon him to polish my table 
 k vith extra zeal, and to secure all the newspapers, pictorial or 
 otherwise, that were lying about, for the purpose of obse- 
 quiously depositing them in a heap at my right hand. I ad- 
 dressed this amiable garcon in the harsh and deliberate 
 accents of my carefully disguised voice. 
 
 " By the way, I suppose you know Naples well ? " 
 
 u Oh, si, signor / " 
 
 " Ebbene, can you tell me the way to the house of one 
 Count Fabio Romani, a wealthy nobleman of this city? " 
 
 Ha ! a good hit this time ! Though apparently not look- 
 ing at him I saw Ferrari start as though he had been stung, 
 and then compose himself in his seat with an air of attention. 
 The waiter meanwhile, in answer to my question, raised his 
 hands, eyes and shoulders all together with a shrug expres- 
 sive of resigned melancholy. 
 
 " Ah, gran Dio I e morto 1 " 
 
 " Dead ! " I exclaimed, with a pretended start of shocked 
 surprise. " So young ? Impossible ! " 
 
 " Eh ! what will you, signor? It was la pesta ; there was 
 no remedy. La fiesta cares nothing for youth or age, and 
 spares neither rich nor poor." 
 
 For a moment I leaned my head on my hand, affecting to 
 be overcome by the suddenness of the news. Then looking 
 up, I said, regretfully : 
 
 " Alas ! I am too late ! I was a friend of his father's. I 
 have been away for many years, and I had a great wish to 
 meet the young Romani whom I last saw as a child. Are 
 there any relations of his living — was he married ? " 
 
 The waiter, whose countenance had assumed a fitting lugu* 
 briousness in accordance with what he imagined were my 
 feelings, brightened up immediately as he replied eagerly : 
 
 " Oh, si, signor ! The Contessa Romani lives up at the 
 villa, though I believe she receives no one since her hus- 
 band's death. She is young and beautiful as an angel 
 There is a little child too," 
 
94 VENDETTA! 
 
 A hasty movement on the part of Ferrari caused me to 
 turn my eyes, or rather my spectacles, in his direction. He 
 leaned forward, and raising his hat with the old courteous 
 grace I knew so well, said politely : 
 
 " Pardon me, signor, for interrupting you ! I knew the 
 late young Count Romani well — perhaps better than any mar* 
 in Naples. I shall be delighted to afford you any informatior 
 you may seek concerning him." 
 
 Oh, the old mellow music of his voice™ how it struck on 
 my heart and pierced it like the refrain of a familiar song 
 loved in the days of our youth. For an instant I could not 
 speak — wrath and sorrow choked my utterance. Fortunately 
 this feeling was but momentary — slowly I raised my hat in 
 response to his salutation, and answered stiffly : 
 
 "I am your servant, signor. Yea will oblige me indeed if 
 you can place me in communication with the relatives of this 
 unfortunate young nobleman. The elder Count Romani was 
 dearer to me than a brother — men have such attachments 
 occasionally. Permit me to introduce myself," and I handed 
 him my visiting-card with a slight and formal bow. He ac- 
 cepted it, and as he read the name it bore he gave me a 
 quick glance of respect mingled with pleased surprise. 
 
 "The Conte Cesare Oliva ! " he exclaimed. "I esteem 
 myself most fortunate to have met you ! Your arrival has 
 already been notified to us by the ava?it-courier of the fashion- 
 able intelligence, so that we are well aware," here laughing 
 lightly, " of the distinctive right you have to a hearty welcome 
 in Naples. I am only sorry that any distressing news should 
 have darkened the occasion of your return here after so long 
 an absence. Permit me to express the hope that it may at 
 least be the only cloud for you on our southern sunshine ! " 
 
 And he extended his hand with that ready frankness and 
 bonhomie which are always a part of the Italian temperament, 
 ^nd were especially so of his. A cold shudder ran through 
 my veins. God ! could I take his hand in mine ? I must— 
 ,f I would act my part thoroughly — for should I refuse he 
 would think it strange — even rude — I should lose the gam© 
 by one false move. With a forced smile I hesitatingly held 
 out my hand also — it was gloved, yet as he clasped it heartily 
 in his own the warm pressure burned through the glove like 
 fire. I could have cried out in agony, so excruciating was 
 the mental torture which I endured at that moment. But it 
 passed, the ordeal was over, and I knew that from hence- 
 forth I should be able to shake hands with him as often ancl 
 
VENDETTA I 95 
 
 as indifferently as with any other man. It was only thisjirsi 
 time that it galled me to the quick. Ferrari noticed nothing 
 of my emotion — he was in excellent spirits, and turning to 
 the waiter, who had lingered to watch us make each other's 
 acquaintance, he exclaimed : 
 
 " More coffee, gar(on y and a coupits of glorzas." Ther 
 looking toward me, " You do not object to a gloria, conte S 
 No ? That is well. And here is my card," taking one frGn 
 his pocket and laying it on the table. " Guido Ferrari 5 a 
 /our service, an artist and a very poor one. We shall cele 
 orate our meeting by drinking each other's health ! " 
 
 I bowed. The waiter vanished to execute his orders and 
 Ferrari drew his chair closer to mine. 
 
 " I see you smoke," he said, gayly. " Can I offer you one 
 of my cigars ? They are unusually choice. Permit me," 
 and he proffered me a richly embossed and emblazoned silver 
 cigar-case, with the Romani arms and coronet and my own 
 i?iitials engraved thereon. It was mine, of course — I took it 
 with a sensation of grim amusement — I had not seen it since 
 the day I died ! 
 
 " A fine antique," I remarked, carelessly, turning it over 
 and over in my hand, " curious and valuable. A gift or an 
 heirloom?" 
 
 " It belonged to my late friend, Count Fabio," he answered, 
 puffing a light cloud of smoke in the air as he drew his cigar 
 from his lips to speak. " It was found in his pocket by the 
 priest who saw him die. That and other trifles which he 
 wore on his person were delivered to his wife, and — " 
 
 " She naturally gave you the cigar-case as a memento of 
 your friend," I said, interrupting him. 
 
 u Just so. You have guessed it exactly. Thanks," and 
 he took the case from me as I returned it to him with a frank 
 smile. 
 
 1 "Is the Countess Romani young ?" I forced myself to in 
 fcmire. 
 
 " Young and beautiful as a midsummer morning ! " replied 
 Ferrari, with enthusiasm. " I doubt if sunlight ever fell on 
 a more enchanting woman 1 If you were a young man, conte, 
 I should be silent regarding her charms — but your white hairs 
 inspire one with confidence. I assure you solemnly, though 
 Fabio was my friend, and an excellent fellow in his ways, he 
 was never worthy of the woman he married ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! " I said, coldly, as this dagger-thrust struck home 
 to my heart. " I only knew him when he was quite a boy. 
 
$6 VEMDETTAt 
 
 He seemed td me then of a warm and loving temperament, 
 generous to a fault, perhaps over-credulous ; yet he promised 
 well. His father thought so ; I confess I thought so too. 
 Reports have reached me from time to time of the care with 
 which he managed the immense fortune left to him. He 
 gave large sums away in charity, did he not ? and was he not 
 a lover of books and simple pleasures ? " 
 
 " Oh, I grant you all that ! * returned Ferrari, with some 
 Impatience. " He was the most moral man in immoral 
 Naples, if you care for that sort of thing. Studious — phil 
 osophic—parfaif ge?itilhomme — proud as the devil, virtuous, 
 unsuspecting, and — withal — a fool ! " 
 
 My temper rose dangerously — but I controlled it, and re- 
 membering my part in the drama I had constructed, I broke 
 into violent, harsh laughter. 
 
 " Bravo 1 " I exclaimed. " One can easily see what a first- 
 rate young fellow you are ! You have no liking for moral 
 men — ha, ha ! excellent I I agree with you. A virtuous 
 man and a fool are synonyms nowadays. Yes — I have lived 
 long enough to know that 1 And here is our coffee — behold 
 also the glorias ! I drink your health with pleasure, Signor 
 Ferrari — you and I must be friends ! " 
 
 For one moment he seemed startled by my sudden outburst 
 of mirth — the next, he laughed heartily himself, and as the 
 waiter appeared with the coffee and cognac, inquired by the 
 occasion, he made an equivocal, slightly indelicate joke con- 
 cerning the personal charms of a certain Antoinetta whom 
 &iq garfon was supposed to favor with an eye to matrimony. 
 The fellow grinned, in nowise offended — and pocketing fresh 
 gratuities from both Ferrari and myself, departed on new 
 errands for other customers, apparently in high good humoi 
 with himself, Antoinetta, and the world in general. Resum- 
 ing the interrupted conversation I said : 
 
 " And this poor weak-minded Romani — was his death 
 sudden?" 
 
 * Remarkably so," answered Ferrari, leaning back in his 
 tthair, and turning his handsome flushed face up to the sky 
 where the stars were beginning to twinkle out one by one, 
 " it appears from all accounts that he rose early and went out 
 for a walk on one of those insufferably hot August mornings, 
 and at the furthest limit of the villa grounds he came upon a 
 fruit-seller dying of cholera. Of course, with his quixotic 
 ideas, he must needs stay and talk to the boy, and then run 
 like a madman through the heat into Naples, to find a doctor 
 
VENDETTA I 
 
 97 
 
 for him. Instead of a physician he met a priest, and he wa« 
 taking this priest to the assistance of the fruit-seller (who by 
 the oye died in the meantime and was past all caring for) when 
 he himself was struck down by the plague. He was carried 
 then and there to a common inn, where in about five hours 
 he died — all the time shrieking curses on anyone who should 
 dare to take him alive or dead inside his own house. He 
 showed good sense in that at least — naturally he was aoic- 
 ious not to bring the contagion to his wife and child." 
 
 J< Is the child a boy or a girl ? " I asked, carelessly. 
 
 " A girl. A mere baby — an uninteresting old-fashioned 
 little thing, very like her father." 
 
 My poor little Stella. 
 
 Every pulse of my being thrilled with indignation at the 
 indifferently chill way in which he, the man who had fondled 
 her and pretended to love her, now spoke of the child. She 
 was, as far as he knew, fatherless ; he, no doubt, had good 
 reason to suspect that her mother cared little for her, and, 1 
 saw plainly that she was, or soon would be, a slighted and 
 friendless thing in the household. But I made no remark — - 
 I sipped my cognac with an abstracted air for a few seconds 
 —then I asked : 
 
 " How was the count buried ? Your narrative interests me 
 greatly " 
 
 " Oh, the priest who was with him saw to his burial, and I 
 Relieve, was able to administer the last sacraments. At any 
 rate, he had him laid with all proper respect in his family 
 vault- — I myself was present at the funeral." 
 
 I started involuntarily, but quickly repressed myself. 
 
 "You were present — you — you — " and my voice almost 
 failed me. 
 
 Ferrari raised his eyebrows with a look of surprised inquiry, 
 
 " Of course ! You are astonished at that ? But perhaps 
 you do not understand. I was the count's very closest friend, 
 closer than a brother, I may say. It was natural, even 
 necessary, that I should attend his body to its last resting* 
 place." 
 
 By this time I had recovered myself. 
 
 " I see — I see ! " I muttered, hastily. " Pray excuse me — 
 my age renders me nervous of disease in any form, and I 
 should have thought the fear of contagion might have weighed 
 with you." 
 
 " With me /" and he laughed lightly. " I was never ill m 
 my life, and I have no dread whatever of cholera. I s 
 % 
 
98 VENDETTA I 
 
 1 ran some risk, though I never thought about it at the time 
 -—but the priest — one of the Benedictine order — died the very 
 next day." 
 
 ''Shocking!" I murmured over my coffee-cup. "Very 
 shocking. And you actually entertained no alarm for your- 
 self?" 
 
 " None in the least. To tell you the truth, I am armed 
 against contagious illnesses, by a conviction I have that I am 
 not doomed to die of any disease. A prophecy " — and here 
 a cloud crossed his features — " an odd prophecy was made 
 about me when I was born, which, whether it comes true or 
 not, prevents me from panic in days of plague." 
 
 " Indeed ! " I said, with interest, for this was news to me 
 " And may one ask what this prophecy is ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly. It is to the effect that I shall die a violent 
 death by the hand of a once familiar friend. It was always 
 an absurd statement — an old nurse's tale — but it is now more 
 absurd than ever, considering that the only friend of the kind 
 I ever had or am likely to have is dead and buried — namely, 
 Fabio Romani." 
 
 And he sighed slightly. I raised my head and looked at 
 him steadily. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The sheltering darkness of the spectacles I wore prevented 
 him from noticing the searching scrutiny of my fixed gaze. 
 His face was shadowed by a faint tinge of melancholy ; his 
 eyes were thoughtful and almost sad. 
 
 " You loved h?m well then in spite of his foolishness ? " I 
 said. 
 
 He roused himself from the pensive mood into which he 
 had fallen, and smiled. 
 
 " Loved him ? No ! Certainly not — nothing so strong as 
 that ! I liked him fairly — he bought several pictures of me 
 — a poor artist has always some sort of regard for the man 
 who buys his work. Yes, I liked him well enough — till he 
 married." 
 
 " Ha ! I suppose his wife came between you ? He flushed 
 slightly, and drank off the remainder of his cognac in haste. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, briefly, " she came between us. A man 
 is never quite the same after marriage. But we have been 
 sitting a long time here — shall we walk ? " 
 
He was evidently anxious to change the subject I rose 
 slowly as though my joints were stiff with age, and drew out 
 my watch, a finely jeweled one, to see the time. It was past 
 nine o'clock. 
 
 "Perhaps," I said, addressing him, "you will accompany 
 me as far as my hotel. I am compelled to retire early as a 
 rote — I suffer much from a chronic complaint of the eyes as 
 you perceive," here touching my spectacles, " and I cannot 
 tndure much artificial light. We can talk further on our way, 
 Will you give me a chance of seeing your pictures ? I shall 
 esteem myself happy to be one of your patrons." 
 
 u A thousand thanks I " he answered, gayly. " I will show 
 you my poor attempts with pleasure. Should you find any- 
 thing among them to gratify your taste, I shall of course be 
 honored. But, thank Heaven ! I am not as greedy of pat- 
 ronage as I used to be — in fact I intended resigning the pro* 
 lession altogether in about six months or so." 
 
 • Indeed T Are you coming into a fortune ? " I asked, care* 
 lessly. 
 
 u Well — not exactly," he answered, lightly. u I am going 
 to marry one — that is almost the same thing, is it not ? " 
 
 M Precisely I I congratulate you ! " I said, in a studiously 
 Indifferent and slightly bored tone, though my heart pulsed 
 fiercely with the torrent of wrath pent up within it. I under 
 stood his meaning well. In six months he proposed marry- 
 ing my wife. Six months was the shortest possible interval 
 that could be observed, according to social etiquette, between 
 the death of one husband and the wedding of another, and 
 even that was so short as to be barely decent. Six months 
 —yet in that space of time much might happen — things 
 undreamed of and undesired — slow tortures carefully meas- 
 ured out, punishment sudden and heavy! Wrapped in 
 these sombre musings I walked beside him in profound 
 silence. The moon shone brilliantly ; groups of girls danced 
 on the shore with their lovers, to the sound of a flute and 
 mandoline — far off across the bay the sound of sweet and 
 plaintive singing floated from some boat in the distance, to 
 our ears — the evening breathed of beauty, peace and love. 
 But I — my fingers quivered with restrained longing to be at 
 the throat of the graceful liar who sauntered so easily and con- 
 fidently beside me. Ah ! Heaven, if he only knew I If he 
 could have realized the truth, would his face nave worn quite 
 so careless a smile — would his manner have been quite so 
 fg«t and dauntless? Stealthily I glanced at hia \ he was 
 
hoo VENDETTA I ' 
 
 bumming a tune softly under his breath, but feeling instinc 
 tfvely, I suppose, that my eyes were upon him, he inter 
 rupted the melody and turned to me with the question : 
 
 " You have traveled far and seen much, conte I '* 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " And in what country have you found the most beautiful 
 women ! " 
 
 " Pardon me, young sir," I answered, coldly, " the business 
 jf life has separated me almost entirely from feminine society. 
 ( have devoted myself exclusively to the amassing of wealth t 
 understanding thoroughly that gold is the key to all things, 
 even to woman's love ; if I desired that latter commodity, 
 which I do not. 1 fear that I scarcely know a fair face from 
 a plain one — I never was attracted by women, and now at my 
 age, with my settled habits, I am not likely to alter my opin- 
 ion concerning them — and I frankly confess those opinions 
 are the reverse of favorable. 
 
 Ferrari laughed. " You remind me of Fabio 1 " he said. 
 ' He used to talk in that strain before he was married— though 
 fie was young and had none of the experiences which may 
 have made you cynical, conte I But he altered his ideas very 
 rapidly — and no wonder ! " 
 
 " Is his wife so very lovely then ? " I asked. 
 
 " Very ! Delicately, daintily beautiful. But no doubt you 
 will see her for yourself — as a friend of her late husband's 
 father, you will call upon her, will you not ? " 
 
 " Why should I ? " I said, gruffly — " I have no wish to 
 meet her ! Besides, an inconsolable widow seldom cares to 
 receive visitors — I shall not intrude upon her sorrows ! " 
 
 Never was there a better move than this show of utter in- 
 difference I affected. The less I appeared to care about 
 seeing the Countess Romani, the more anxious Ferrari was 
 to introduce me — (introduce me ! — to my wife !) — and he 
 set to work preparing his own doom with assiduous ardor. 
 
 " Oh, but you must see her 1 " he exclaimed, eagerly. " Sha 
 will receive you, I am sure, as a special guest. Your age and 
 your former acquaintance with her late husband's family mil 
 win from her the utmost courtesy, believe me ! Besides, sfea 
 
 is not really inconsolable " He paused suddenly. We 
 
 had arrived at the entrance of my hotel. I looked at him 
 steadily. 
 
 " Not really inconsolable ? " I repeated, in a tone of impair^ 
 Ferrari broke into a forced laugh. 
 
 * Why no i * he said. " What would you ? She is young 
 
and light-hearted — perfectly lovely and in the fullness of youtfc 
 and health. One cannot expect her to weep long, especially 
 
 lor a man she did not care for." 
 
 I ascended the hotel steps. " Pray come in ! " I said, with 
 an inviting movement of my hand a You must take a 
 glass of wine before you leave. And so — she did not care for 
 him, you say ? " 
 
 Encouraged by my friendly invitation and manner, Ferrari 
 became more at this ease than ever, and hooking his arm 
 through mine as we crossed the broad passage of the hotel 
 together, he replied in a confidential tone i 
 
 " My dear conte, how can a woman love a man who is forced 
 upon her by her father for the sake of the money he gives 
 her ? As I told you before, my late friend was utterly in- 
 sensible to the beauty of his wife — he was cold as a stone, 
 and preferred his books. Then naturally she had no love 
 for him!" 
 
 By this time we had reached my apartments, and as I threw 
 open the door, I saw that Ferrari was taking in with a critical 
 eye the costly fittings and luxurious furniture. In answer to 
 this last remark, I said with a chilly smile : 
 
 " And as /told you before, my dear Signor Ferarri, I know 
 nothing whatever about women, and care less than nothing for 
 their loves or hatreds I I have always thought of them more 
 or less as playful kittens, who purr when they are stroked 
 the right way, and scream and scratch when their tails are 
 trodden on. Try this Montepulciano I " 
 
 He accepted the glass I proffered him, and tasted the 
 wine with the air of a connoisseur. 
 
 " Exquisite ! " he murmured, sipping it lazily. " You are 
 lodged en prince here, conte ! I envy you X " 
 
 " You need not," I answered. " You have youth and 
 health, and — as you have hinted tome — love ; all these things 
 are better than wealth, so people say. At any rate, youth 
 and health are good things — love I have no belief in. As 
 for me, I am a mere luxurious animal, loving comfort and 
 ease beyond anything. I have had many trials — I now take 
 my rest in my own fashion." 
 
 " A very excellent and sensible fashion I " smiled Ferrari^ 
 leaning his head easily back on the satin cushions of the 
 easy-chair into which he had thrown himself. 
 
 " Do you know, conte, now I look at you well, I think you 
 must have been very handsome when you were young I Yoa 
 iiave a suoexb figure i " 
 
102 VENDETTA t 
 
 I bowed stiffly. " You flatter me, signer f I believe 1 
 never was specially hideous — but looks in a man always rank 
 second to strength, and of strength I have plenty yet re- 
 maining." 
 
 " I do not doubt it," he returned, still regarding me at« 
 tentively with an expression in which there was the faintest 
 shadow of uneasiness. 
 
 " It is an odd coincidence, you will say, but I find a most 
 extraordinary resemblance in the height and carriage of yout » 
 figure to that of my late friend Romani." 
 
 I poured some wine out for myself with a steady hand, 
 and drank it. 
 
 " Really ? " I answered. " I am glad that I remind you of 
 him — if the reminder is agreeable ! But all tall men are much 
 alike so far as figure goes, providing they are well made." 
 
 Ferrari's brow was contracted in a musing frown and he 
 answered not. He still looked at me, and I returned his 
 look without embarrassment. Finally he roused himself, 
 smiled, and finished drinking his glass of Montepulciano. 
 Then he rose to go. 
 
 " You will permit me to mention your name to the Countess 
 Romani, I hope ? " he said, cordially. " I am certain she 
 will receive you, should you desire it." 
 
 I feigned a sort of vexation, and made an abrupt move- 
 ment of impatience. 
 
 " The fact is," I said, at last, " I very much dislike talking 
 to women. They are always illogical, and their frivolity 
 wearies me. But you have been so friendly that I will give 
 you a message for the countess — if you have no objection to 
 deliver it. I should be sorry to trouble you unnecessarily — 
 and you perhaps will not have an opportunity of seeing her 
 for some days ? " 
 
 He colored slightly and moved uneasily. Then with a 
 kind of effort, he replied : 
 
 " On the contrary, I am going to see her this very evening. 
 I assure you it will be a pleasure to me to convey to her any 
 greeting you may desire to send." 
 
 " Oh, it is no greeting," I continued, calmly, noting the 
 various signs of embarrassment in his manner with a careful 
 eye. " It is a mere message, which, however, may enable you 
 to understand why I was anxious to see the young man who 
 is dead. In my very early manhood the elder Count Romani 
 did me an inestimable service. I never forgot his kindness 
 *-my memory is extraordinarily tenacious of both benefits ac 1 
 
VENDETTA! 1 03 
 
 injuries — and I have always desired to repay it in some suit- 
 able manner. I have with me a few jewels of almost price- 
 less value — I have myself collected them, and I reserved 
 them as a present to the son of my old friend, simply as a 
 trifling souvenir or expression of gratitude for past favors 
 received from his family. His sudden death has deprived 
 me of the pleasure of fulfilling this intention — but as the 
 jewels are quite useless to me, I am perfectly vailing to hand 
 them over to the Countess Romani, should she care to have 
 them. They would have been hers had her husband lived — 
 they should be hers now. If you, signor, will report these 
 facts to her and learn her wishes with respect to the matter, 
 I shall be much indebted to you." 
 
 " I shall be delighted to obey you," replied Ferrari, court- 
 eously, rising at the same time to take his leave. " I am 
 proud to be the bearer of so pleasing an errand, Beautiful 
 women love jewels, and who shall blame them? Bright eyes 
 and diamonds go well together ! A rivederci, Signor Conte 1 
 I trust we shall meet often." 
 
 " I have no doubt we shall," I answered, quietly. 
 
 He shook hands cordially — I responded to his farewell salu- 
 tations with the brief coldness which was now my habitual man- 
 ner, and we parted. From the window of my saloon I could see 
 him sauntering easily down the hotel steps and from thence 
 along the street. How I cursed him as he stepped jauntily 
 on — how I hated his debonair grace and easy manner ! I 
 watched the even poise of his handsome head and shoulders, 
 I noted the assured tread, the air of conscious vanity — the 
 whole demeanor of the man bespoke his perfect self-satisfac- 
 tion and his absolute confidence in the brightness of the 
 future that awaited him when that stipulated six months of 
 pretended mourning for my untimely death should have ex< 
 pired. Once, as he walked on his way, he turned and 
 paused — looking back — he raised his hat to enjoy the cool- 
 ness of the breeze on his forehead and hair. The light of 
 the moon fell full on his features and showed them in pro- 
 file, like a finely-cut cameo against the dense dark-blue back- 
 ground of the evening sky. I gazed at him with a sort of 
 grim fascination — the fascination of a hunter for the stag 
 when it stands at bay, just before he draws his knife across 
 its throat. He was in my power — he had deliberately thrown 
 himself in the trap I had set for him. He lay at the mercy 
 of one in whom there was no mercy. He had said and done 
 nothing to deter me from my settled plans. Had he shown 
 
104 
 
 VENDETTA / 
 
 the least tenderness of recollection for me as Fabio Romani, 
 his friend and benefactor — had he hallowed my memory by 
 one generous word — had he expressed one regret for my loss 
 — I might have hesitated, I might have somewhat changed 
 my course of action so that punishment should have fallen 
 more lightly on him than on her. For I knew well enough 
 that she, my wife, was the worst sinner of the two. Had she 
 chosen to respect herself, not all the forbidden love in the 
 world could have touched her honor. Therefore, the least 
 sign of compunction or affection from Ferrari for me, his 
 supposed dead friend, would have turned the scale in his 
 favor, and in spite of his treachery, remembering how she 
 must have encouraged him, I would at least have spared him 
 torture. But no sign had been given, no word had been 
 spoken, there was no need for hesitation or pity, and I was 
 glad of it ! All this I thought as I watched him standing 
 bareheaded in the moonlight, on his way to — whom ? To 
 my wife, of course. I knew that well enough. He was go- 
 ing to console her widow's tears — to soothe her aching heart 
 ■ — a good Samaritan in very earnest ! He moved, he passed 
 slowly out of my sight. I waited till I had seen the last 
 glimpse of his retreating figure, and then I left the window 
 satisfied with my day's work. Vengeance had begun. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Quite early in the next day Ferrari called to see me. I 
 was at breakfast — he apologized for disturbing me at the 
 meaL 
 
 " But," he explained, frankly, " the Countess Romani laid 
 such urgent commands upon me that I was compelled to 
 Dbey. We men are the slaves of women ! " 
 
 " Not always," I said, dryly, as I motioned him to take a 
 seat — " there are exceptions — myself for instance. Will you 
 hr.^e some coffee ? " 
 
 •' Thanks, I have already breakfasted. Pray do not let 
 me be in your way, my errand is soon done. The countess 
 wishes me to say " 
 
 " You saw her last night ? " I interrupted him. 
 
 He flushed slightly. " Yes — that is — for a few minutes 
 only. I gave her your message. She thanks you, and de- 
 sires me to tell you that she cannot think of receiving the 
 
VEND ETTA 1 
 
 105 
 
 jewels unless you will first honor her by a visit. She is not 
 at home to ordinary callers in consequence of her recent be- 
 reavement — but to you, so old a friend of her husband's 
 family, a hearty welcome will be accorded." 
 
 I bowed stiffly. " I am extremely flattered 1 " I said, in a 
 somewhat sarcastical tone, " it is seldom I receive so tempt- 
 ing an invitation ! I regret that I cannot accept it — at least, 
 not at present. Make my compliments to the lady, and tell 
 'her so in whatever sugared form of words you may think best 
 fitted to please her ears." 
 
 He looked surprised and puzzled. 
 
 " Do you really mean," he said, with a tinge of hauteur in 
 his accents, " that you will not visit her — that you refuse her 
 request ? " 
 
 I smiled. " I really mean, my dear Signor Ferrari, that, 
 being always accustomed to have my own way, I can make 
 no exception in favor of ladies, however fascinating they may 
 be. I have business in Naples — it claims my first and best 
 attention. When it is transacted I may possibly try a few 
 frivolities for a change — at present I am unfit for the society 
 of the fair sex — an old battered traveler as you see, brusque, 
 and unaccustomed to polite lying. But I promise you I will 
 practice suave manners and a court bow for the countess 
 when I can spare time to call upon her. In the meanwhile I 
 trust to you to make her a suitable and graceful apology for 
 my non-appearance." 
 
 Ferrari's puzzled and vexed expression gave way to a smile 
 — finally he laughed aloud. " Upon my word ! " he ex- 
 claimed, gayly, " you are really a remarkable man, conte ! 
 You are extremely cynical ! I am almost inclined to believe 
 that you positively hate women." 
 
 * Oh, by no means ! Nothing so strong as hatred," I said 
 coolly, as I peeled and divided a fine peach as a finish to my 
 morning's meal. " Hatred is a strong passion — to hate well 
 one must first have loved. No, no — I do not find women 
 worth hating — I am simply indifferent to theflf , They seem 
 to me merely one of the burdens imposed on man's existence 
 — graceful, neatly packed, light burdens in appearance, but 
 in truth, terribly heavy and soul-crushing. :; 
 
 " Yet many accept such burdens gayly ! " interrupted Fer- 
 rari, with a smile. I glanced at him keenly. 
 
 " Men seldom attain the mastery over their own passions," 
 I replied ; " they are in haste to seize every apparent pleasure 
 that comes in their way. Led by a hot animal impulse which 
 
io6 VENDETTA! 
 
 they call love, they snatch at a woman's beauty as a greedy 
 school-boy snatches ripe fruit — and when possessed, what is 
 it worth ? Here is its emblem " — and I held up the stone of 
 the peach I had just eaten — " the fruit is devoured — what 
 remains ? A stone with a bitter kernel." 
 
 Ferrari shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I cannot agree with you, count," he said ; " but I will 
 not argue with you. From your point of view you may be 
 right — but when one is young, and life stretches before you 
 like a fair pleasure-ground, love and the smile of woman are 
 like sunlight falling on flowers ! You too must have felt this 
 — in spite of what you say, there must have been a time in 
 your life when you also loved ! " 
 
 " Oh, I have had my fancies, of course ! " I answered, with 
 an indifferent laugh. " The woman I fancied turned out to 
 be a saint — I was not worthy of her — at least, so I was told. 
 At any rate, I was so convinced of her virtue and my own 
 unworthiness — that — I left her." 
 
 He looked surprised. " An odd reason, surely, for resign- 
 ing her, was it not ? " 
 
 " Very odd — very unusual — but a sufficient one for me. 
 Pray let us talk of something more interesting — your pictures, 
 for instance. When may I see them ? " 
 
 " When you please," he answered, readily — " though I fear 
 they are scarcely worth a visit. I have not worked much 
 lately. I really doubt whether I have any that will merit 
 your notice." 
 
 " You underrate your powers, signor," I said with formal 
 politeness. " Allow me to call at your studio this afternoon. 
 I have a few minutes to spare between three and four o'clock 
 if that time will suit you." 
 
 " It will suit me admirably," he said, with a look of grati- 
 fication ; " but I fear you will be disappointed. I assure you 
 I am no artist." 
 
 I smiled. I knew that well enough. But I made no 
 reply to his remark — I said, " Regarding the matter of the 
 jewels for the Countess Romani — would you care to see 
 tkem ? " 
 
 " I should indeed," he answered ; " they are unique speci- 
 mens, I think?" 
 
 " I believe so," I answered, and going to an escritoire in 
 the corner of the room, I unlocked it and took out a massive 
 carved oaken jewel-chest of square shape, which I had had 
 made in Palermo. It contained a necklace of large rubies 
 
VENDETTA! 107 
 
 and diamonds, with bracelets to match, and pins for the hair 
 — also a sapphire ring — a cross of fine rose-brilliants, and the 
 pearl pendant I had first found in the vault. All the gems, 
 with the exception of this pendant, had been reset by a skill- 
 ful jeweler in Palermo, who had acted under my superintend- 
 ence — and Ferrari uttered an exclamation of astonishment 
 and admiration as he lifted the glittering toys out one by one 
 and noted the size and brilliancy of the precious stones. 
 
 " They are trifles," I said, carelessly — " but they may please 
 a woman's taste — and they amount to a certain fixed value. 
 You would do me a great service if you consented to take 
 them to the Contessa Romani for me — tell her to accept them 
 as heralds of my forthcoming visit. I am sure you will know 
 how to persuade her to take what would unquestionably 
 have been hers had her husband lived. They are really her 
 property — she must not refuse to receive what is her own," 
 
 Ferrari hesitated and looked at me earnestly. 
 
 " You will visit her — she may rely on your coming for a 
 certainty, I hope ? " 
 
 I smiled. "You seem very anxious about it. May I ask. 
 why ? " 
 
 " I think," he replied at once, " that it would embarrasi 
 the countess very much if you gave her no opportunity to 
 thank you for so munificent and splendid a gift — and unless 
 she knew she could do so, I am certain she would not accept 
 it." 
 
 " Make yourself quite easy," I answered. " She shall 
 thank me to her heart's content. I give you my word that 
 within a few days I will call upon the lady — in fact you said 
 you would introduce me — I accept your offer I " 
 
 He seemed delighted, and seizing my hand, shook it cor- 
 dially. 
 
 "Then in that case I will gladly take the jewels to her," 
 he exclaimed. " And I may say, count, that had you 
 searched the whole world over, you could not have found 
 one whose beauty was more fitted to show them off to ad- 
 vantage. I assure you her loveliness is of a most exquisite 
 character ! " 
 
 " No doubt ! " I said, dryly. " I take your word for it. I 
 am no judge of a fair face or form. And now, my good 
 friend, do not think me churlish if I request you to leave me 
 in solitude for the present. Between three and four o'clock 
 I shall be at your studio." 
 
 He rose at once to take his leave. I placed the oaken box 
 
Io8 VENDETTA! 
 
 of jewels in the leathern case which had been made to con- 
 tain it, strapped and locked it, and handed it to him together 
 with its key. He was profuse in his compliments and 
 thanks — almost obsequious, in truth — and I discovered an- 
 other defect in his character— a defect which, as his friend 
 in former days, I had guessed nothing of. I saw that very 
 little encouragement would make him a toady — a fawning 
 servitor on the wealthy — and in our old time of friendship J 
 iad believed him to be far above all such meanness, bu 
 .ather of a manly, independent nature that scorned hypoc- 
 ;isy. Thus we are deluded even by our nearest and dear- 
 est — and is it well or ill for us, I wonder, when we are at 
 last undeceived ? Is not the destruction of illusion worse 
 than illusion itself ? I thought so, as my quondam friend 
 clasped my hand in farewell that morning. What would I 
 not have given to believe in him as I once did ! I held open 
 the door of my room as he passed out, carrying the box of 
 jewels for my wife, and as I bade him a brief adieu, the well- 
 worn story of Tristram and Kind Mark came to my mind. 
 He, Guido, like Tristram, would in a short space clasp the 
 gemmed necklace round the throat of one as fair and false 
 as the fabled Iseulte, and I — should I figure as the wronged 
 king? How does the English laureate put it in his idyl on 
 the subject ? 
 
 *** Mark's way," 1 said Mark^ and clove him through the brain.' 11 
 
 Too sudden and sweet a death by far for such a traitor ! 
 The Cornish king should have known how to torture his be- 
 trayer, /knew — and I meditated deeply on every point of my 
 design, as I sat alone for an hour after Ferrari had left me. 
 I had many things to do — I had resolved on making myself 
 a personage of importance in Naples, and I wrote several 
 letters and sent out visiting-cards to certain well-established 
 Families of distinction as necessary preliminaries to the re- 
 sult I had in view. That day, too, I engaged a valet — a 
 silent and discreet Tuscan named Vincenzo Flamma. He 
 was an admirably trained servant — he never asked questions 
 —was too dignified to gossip, and rendered me instant and 
 "implicit obedience — in fact he was a gentleman in his way, 
 with far better manners than many who lay claim to that 
 title. He entered upon his duties at once, and never did I 
 know him to neglect the most trifling thing that could add 
 to my satisfaction or comfort. In making arrangements 
 t vvith him, and in attending to yajious little matters of bus? 
 
VENDETTA I 109 
 
 ftcss, the hours slipped rapidly away, and in the afternoon, 
 at the time appointed, I made my way to Ferrari's studio. 
 I knew it of old — I had no need to consult the card he had 
 left with me on which the address was written. It was a 
 queer, quaintly built little place, situated at the top of an 
 ascending road — its windows commanded an extensive view 
 of the bay and the surrounding scenery. Many and many a 
 happy hour had I passed there before my marriage reading 
 some favorite book or watching Ferrari as he painted his 
 crude landscapes and figures, most of which I good-naturedly 
 purchased as soon as completed. The little porch over-grown 
 with star-jasmine looked strangely and sorrowfully familiar tc 
 my eyes, and my heart experienced a sickening pang of 
 regret for the past, as I pulled the bell and heard the little 
 tinkling sound to which I was so well accustomed. Fer- 
 rari himself opened the door to me with eager rapidity — he 
 looked excited and radiant, 
 
 " Come in, come in ! " he cried with effusive cordiality. 
 " You will find everything in confusion, but pray excuse it. 
 It is some time since I had any visitors. Mind the steps, 
 conte ! — the place is rather dark just here — every one 
 stumbles at this particular corner." 
 
 So talking, and laughing as he talked, he escorted me up 
 the short narrow flight of stairs to the light airy room where 
 he usually worked. Glancing round it, I saw at once the evi- 
 dences of neglect and disorder — he had certainly not been 
 there for many days, though he had made an attempt to 
 arrange it tastefully for my reception. On the table stood a 
 large vase of flowers grouped with artistic elegance — I felt 
 instinctively that my wife had put them there. I noticed 
 that Ferrari had begun nothing new — all the finished and un- 
 finished studies I saw I recognized directly. I seated my- 
 self in an easy-chair and looked at my betrayer with a 
 calmly critical eye. He was what the English would call 
 "got up for effect." Though in black, he had donned a 
 velvet coat instead of the cloth one he had worn in the 
 morning — he had a single white japonica in his buttonhole 
 — his face was pale and his eyes unusually brilliant. He 
 looked his best — I admitted it, and could readily understand 
 how an idle, pleasure-seeking feminine animal might be 
 easily attracted by the purely physical beauty of his form and 
 features. I spoke a part of my thoughts aloud. 
 
 " You are not only an artist by profession, Signor Ferrari 
 —you are one also in appearance." 
 
HO VENDETTA t 
 
 He flushed slightly and smiled. 
 
 " You are very amiable to say so," he replied, his pleased 
 vanity displaying itself at once in the expression of his face. 
 " But I am well aware that you flatter me. By the way, be- 
 fore I forget it, I must tell you that I fulfilled your commis 
 sion." 
 
 " To the Countess Romani ? " 
 
 " Exactly. I cannot describe to you her astonishment 
 and delight at the splendor and brilliancy of those jewels 
 you sent her. It was really pretty to watch her innocent 
 satisfaction." 
 
 I laughed. 
 
 " Marguerite and the jewel song in ' Faust,' I suppose, 
 with new scenery and effects ? " I asked, with a slight sneer. 
 He bit his lip and looked annoyed. But he answered, 
 quietly : 
 
 "I see you must have your joke, conte; but remembei 
 that if you place the countess in the position of Marguerite, 
 you, as the giver of the jewels, naturally play the part of 
 Mephistopheles." 
 
 " And you will be Faust, of course ! " I said, gayly. 
 " Why, we might mount the opera with a few supernumeraries 
 and astonish Naples by our performance ! What say you ? 
 But let us come to business. I like the picture you have on 
 the easel there — may I see it more closely ? " 
 
 He drew it nearer; it was a showy landscape with the 
 light of the sunset upon it. It was badly done, but I praised 
 it warmly, and purchased it for five hundred francs. Four 
 other sketches of a similar nature were then produced. I 
 bought these also. By the time we got through these 
 matters, Ferrari was in the best of humors. He offered me 
 some excellent wine and partook of it himself ; he talked 
 incessantly, and diverted me extremely, though my inward 
 amusement was not caused by the witty brilliancy of his 
 conversation. No, I was only excited to a sense of savage 
 humor by the novelty of the position in which we two men 
 stood. Therefore I listened to him attentively, applauded 
 his anecdotes — all of which I had heard before — admired 
 his jokes, and fooled his egotistical soul till he had no shred 
 of self-respect remaining. He laid his nature bare before me 
 —and I knew what it was at last — a mixture of selfishness, 
 avarice, sensuality, and heartlessness, tempered now and 
 then by a flash of good-nature and sympathetic attraction 
 which were the mere outcomes of youth and physical health 
 
VENDETTA I * Uv a 
 
 —no more. This was the man I had loved — this fellow who 
 told coarse stories only worthy of a common pot-house, and 
 who reveled in a wit of a high and questionable flavor , this 
 conceited, empty-headed, muscular piece of humanity was the 
 same being for whom I had cherished so chivalrous and 
 loyal a tenderness ! Our conversation was broken in upon 
 at last by the sound of approaching wheels. A carriage was 
 heard ascending the road — it came nearer — it stopped at the 
 door. I set down the glass of wine I had just raised to my 
 Hps, and looked at Ferrari steadily. 
 
 "You expect other visitors ? " I inquired. 
 
 He seemed embarrassed, smiled, and hesitated. 
 
 '* Well — I am not sure — but " The bell rang. With a 
 
 word of apology Ferrari hurried away to answer it. I sprung 
 from my chair — I knew- — I felt who was coming, I steadied 
 my nerves by a strong effort. I controlled the rapid beating 
 of my heart ; and fixing my dark glasses more closely over 
 my eyes, I drew myself up erect and waited calmly. I heard 
 Ferrari ascending the stairs — a light step accompanied his 
 heavier footfall — he spoke to his companion in whispers. 
 Another instant — and he flung the door of the studio wide 
 open with the haste and reverence due for the entrance of a 
 queen. There was a soft rustle of silk — a delicate breath of 
 perfume on the air — and then — I stood face to face with — 
 my wife / 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 How dazzlingly lovely she was ! I gazed at her with ehe 
 same bewildered fascination that had stupefied my reason 
 and judgment when I beheld her for the first time. The 
 black robes she wore, the long crape veil thrown back from 
 her clustering hair and mignonne i&ce, all the somber shadows 
 of her mourning garb only served to heighten and display 
 her beauty to greater advantage. A fair widow truly ! I, 
 her lately deceased husband, freely admitted the magnetic 
 power of her charms ! She paused for an instant on the 
 threshold, a winning smile on her lips ; she looked at me, 
 hesitated, and finally spoke in courteous accents : 
 
 " I think I cannot be mistaken 1 Do I address the noble 
 Conte Cesare Oliva ? " 
 
 I tried to speak, but could not. My mouth was dry and 
 parched with excitement, my throat swelled and ached with 
 
5i2 VENDETTA* 
 
 the pent-up wrath and despair of my emotions. I answered 
 her question silently by a formal bow. She at once advanced, 
 extending both her hands with the coaxing grace of mannet 
 I had so often admired. 
 
 " I am the Countess Romani," she said, still smiling, M I 
 heard from Signor Ferrari that you purposed visiting his 
 studio this afternoon, and I could not resist the temptation 
 of coming to express my personal acknowledgments for the 
 ilmost regai ^ift you sent me. The jewels are really mag- 
 nificent. Permit me to offer you my sincere thanks ! " 
 
 I caught her outstretched hands and wrung them hard — ■ 
 so hard that the rings she wore must have dug into her flesh 
 and hurt her, though she was too well-bred to utter any ex- 
 clamation. I had fully recovered myself, and was prepared 
 to act out my part. 
 
 " On the contrary, madame," I said in a strong harsh 
 voice, " the thanks must come entirely from me for the 
 honor you have conferred upon me by accepting trifles so 
 insignificant — especially at a time when the cold brilliancy of 
 mere diamonds must jar upon the sensitive feelings of your 
 recent widowhood. Believe me, I sympathize deeply with 
 your bereavement. Had your husband lived, the jewels would 
 have been his gift to you, and how much more acceptable 
 they would then have appeared in your eyes ! I am proud 
 to think you have condescended so far as to receive them 
 from so unworthy a hand as mine." 
 
 As I spoke her face paled — she seemed startled, and re- 
 garded me earnestly. Sheltered behind my smoked spec- 
 tacles, I met the gaze of her large dark eyes without embar- 
 rassment. Slowly she withdrew her slight fingers from my 
 clasp. I placed an easy-chair for her ; she sunk softly into 
 it with her old air of indolent ease, the ease of a spoiled em 
 press or sultan's favorite, while she still continued to look 
 up at me thoughtfully. Ferrari, meanwhile, busied himselt 
 in bringing out more wine ; he also produced a dish of fruit 
 and some sweet cakes, and while occupied in these duties as 
 our host he began to laugh. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! you are caught I " he exclaimed to me gayly. 
 " You must know we planned this together, madame and I, 
 just to take you by surprise. There was no knowing when 
 you would be persuaded to visit the contessa, and she could 
 not rest till she had thanked you, so we arranged this meet* 
 ing, Could anything be better ? Come, conte, confess thai 
 |ou are charmed ! " 
 
VENDETTA I 1x3 
 
 " Of course I am!" I answered with a slight touch of 
 satire in my tone. " Who would not be charmed in the pres 
 ence of such youth and beauty ! And I am also flattered 
 —for I know what exceptional favor the Contessa Romani 
 extends toward me in allowing me to make her acquaintance 
 at a time which must naturally be for her a secluded seasor 
 of sorrow." 
 
 At these words my wife's face suddenly assumed an e^ 
 jression of wistful sadness and appealing gentleness 
 
 " Ah, poor unfortunate Fabio," she sighed. " How tei i 
 ole it seems that he is not here to greet you ! How gladly he 
 would have welcomed any friend of his father's — he adored 
 his father, poor fellow i I cannot realize that he is dead. 
 It was too sudden, too dreadful ! I do not think I shall ever 
 recover the shock of his loss ! " 
 
 And her eyes actually filled with tears , though the fact 
 did not surprise me in the least, for many women can weep 
 at will. Very little practice is necessary — and we men are 
 such fools, we never know how it is done ; we take all the 
 pretty feigned piteousness for real grief, and torture our- 
 selves to find methods of consolation for the feminine sorrows 
 tfhich have no root save in vanity and selfishness. I glanced 
 quickly from my wife to Ferrari : he coughed, and appeared 
 embarrassed — he was not so good an actor as she was an 
 actress. Studying them both, I know not which feeling 
 gained the mastery in my mind — contempt or disgust 
 
 " Console yourself, madame," I said, coldly, " Time 
 should be quick to heal the wounds of one so young and 
 beautiful as you are ! Personally speaking, I much regret 
 your husband's death, but I would entreat you not to give 
 way to grief, which, however sincere, must unhappily be use 
 ? ,ess. Your life lies before you — and may happv days and 
 hs fair a future await you as you deserve ! " 
 
 She smiled, her tear-drops vanished like morning dew dis 
 appearing in the heat. 
 
 " I thank you for your good wisnes, conte," she said ; " but 
 K rests with you to commence my happy days by honoring 
 me with a visit. You will come, will you not ? My house 
 ^rid all that it contains are at your service ! n 
 
 I hesitated. Ferrari looked amused. 
 
 " Madame is not aware of your dislike to the society of 
 ladies, conte," he said, and there was a touch of mockery 
 in his tone. I glanced at him coldly, and addressed my 
 answer to my wile 
 
<I4 VENDETTA I 
 
 " Signor Ferrari is perfectly right," I said, bending over 
 her, and speaking in a low tone ; " I am often ungallant 
 enough to avoid the society of mere women, but, alas ! I 
 have no armor of defense against the smile of an angel." 
 
 And I bowed with a deep and courtly reverence. Her 
 face brightened — she adored her own loveliness, and the 
 desire of conquest awoke in her immediately. She took a 
 glass of wine from my hand with a languid grace, and fixed 
 her glorious eyes full on me with a smile. 
 
 " That is a very pretty speech," she said, sweetly, " and it 
 means, of course, that you will come to-morrow. Angels 
 exact obedience ! Gui — , I mean Signor Ferrari, you will 
 accompany the conte and show him the way to the villa? " 
 
 Ferrari bent his head with some stiffness. He looked 
 slightly sullen. 
 
 u I am glad to see," he observed, with some petulance, 
 " that your persuasions have carried more conviction to the 
 Conte Oliva than mine. To me he was apparently inflexible." 
 
 She laughed gayly. " Of course 1 It is only a woman who 
 can always win her own way — am I not right, conte ? " And 
 she glanced up at me with an arch expression of mingled 
 mirth and malice. What a love of mischief she had ! She 
 saw that Guido was piqued, and she took intense delight in 
 teasing him still further. 
 
 " I cannot tell, madame," I answered her. " I know so 
 little of your charming sex that I need to be instructed. But 
 I instinctively feel that you must be right, whatever you say. 
 Your eyes would convert an infidel ! " 
 
 Again she looked at me with one of those wonderfully 
 brilliant, seductive, arrowy glances — then she rose to take 
 her leave. 
 
 " An angel's visit truly," I said, lightly, " sweet, but brief I " 
 
 " We shall meet to-morrow," she replied, smiling. " I 
 consider I have your promise ; you must not fail me ! Come 
 as early as you like in the afternoon, then you will see my 
 little girl Stella. She is very like poor Fabio. Till to-mor- 
 row, adieu 1 " 
 
 She extended her hand. I raised it to my lips. She 
 smiled as she withdrew it, and looking at me, or rather at 
 the glasses I wore, she inquired : 
 
 " You suffer with your eye* ? " 
 
 " Ah, madame, a terrible infirmity ! I cannot endure the 
 fight But I should not complain — it is a weakness commoi 
 
VEN&ETTA! 1 15 
 
 "You do not seem to be old," she said, thoughtfully. 
 With a woman's quick eye she had noted, I suppose, the un- 
 wrinkled smoothness of my skin, which no disguise could 
 alter. But I exclaimed with affected surprise : 
 
 " Not old ! With these white hairs ! " 
 
 " Many young men have them," she said. " At any rate, 
 they often accompany middle age, or what is called the prime 
 of life. And really, in your case, they are very becoming ! ' 
 
 And with a courteous gesture of farewell she moved to 
 leave the room. Both Ferrari and myself hastened to escort 
 her downstairs to her carriage, which stood in waiting at the 
 door — the very carriage and pair of chestnut ponies which 
 I myself had given her as a birthday present. Ferrari 
 offered to assist her in mounting the step of the vehicle ; she 
 put his arm aside with a light jesting word and accepted 
 mine instead. I helped her in, and arranged her embroidered 
 wraps about her feet, and she nodded gayly to us both as we 
 stood bareheaded in the afternoon sunlight watching her 
 departure. The horses started at a brisk canter, and in a 
 couple of minutes the dainty equipage was out of sight. 
 When nothing more of it could be seen than the cloud of 
 dust stirred up by its rolling wheels, I turned to look a* my 
 companion. His face was stern, and his brows were drawn 
 together in a frown. Stung already 1 I thought. Already 
 the little asp of jealousy commenced its bitter work ! The 
 trifling favor his light-o'-love and my wife had extended to 
 me in choosing my arm instead of his as a momentary sup- 
 port had evidently been sufficient to pique his pride. God ! 
 what blind bats men are ! With all their high capabilities 
 and immortal destinies, with all the world before them to 
 conquer, they can sink unnerved and beaten down to impo- 
 tent weakness before the slighting word or insolent gesture 
 of a frivolous feminine creature, whose best devotions are 
 paid to the mirror that reflects her in the most becoming 
 light ! How easy would be my vengeance, I mused, as I 
 watched Ferrari. I touched him on the shoulder ; he started 
 from his uncomfortable reverie and forced a smile. I held 
 out a cigar-case. 
 
 " What are you dreaming of ? " I asked him, laughingly. 
 u Hebe as she waited on the gods, or Venus as she rose in 
 bare beauty from the waves ? Either, neither, or both ? I 
 assure you a comfortable smoke is as pleasant in its way as 
 the smile of a woman." 
 
 He took a cigar and lighted it, but made no answer. 
 
11$ VENDETTA / 
 
 "You are dull, my friend," I continued, gayly, hooking my 
 arm through his and pacing him up and down on the turf in 
 front of his studio. " Wit, they say, should be sharpened by 
 the glance of a bright eye ; how comes it that the edge of 
 your converse seems blunted ? Perhaps your feelings are 
 too deep for words ? If so, I do not wonder at it. for the 
 lady is extremely lovely." 
 
 He glanced quickly at me. 
 
 " Did I not say so ? " he exclaimed. " Of all creatures un 
 der heaven she is surely the most perfect ! Even you, conte, 
 with your cynical ideas about women, even you were quite 
 subdued and influenced by her ; I could see it ! " 
 
 I puffed slowly at my cigar and pretended to meditate. 
 
 " Was I ? " I said at last, with an air of well-acted sur- 
 prise. " Really subdued and influenced ? I do not think so, 
 But I admit I have never seen a woman so entirely beautiful." 
 
 He stopped in his walk, loosened his arm from mine, and 
 regarded me fixedly. 
 
 " I told you so," he said, deliberately. " You must remem- 
 ber that I told you so. And now perhaps I ought to warn 
 you." 
 
 " Warn me ! " 1 exclaimed, in feigned alarm. " Of what ? 
 against whom ? Surely not the Contessa Romani, to whom 
 you were so anxious to introduce me ? She has no illness, no 
 infectious disorder ? She is not dangerous to life or limb, is 
 she?" 
 
 Ferrari laughed at the anxiety I displayed for my own 
 bodily safety — an anxiety which I managed to render almost 
 comic — but he looked somewhat relieved too. 
 
 " Oh, no," he said, " I meant nothing of that kind. I only 
 think it fair to tell you that she has very seductive manners, 
 and she may pay you little attentions which would flatter any 
 man who was not aware that they are only a part of her child- 
 like, pretty ways ; in short, they might lead him erroneously 
 to suppose himself the object of her particular preference, 
 and " 
 
 I broke into a violent fit of laughter, and clapped him 
 roughly on the shoulder. 
 
 "Your warning is quite unnecessary, my good young 
 friend," I said. " Come now, do I look a likely man to at- 
 tract the attention of an adored and capricious beauty ? Be- 
 sides, at my age the idea is monstrous ! I could figure as hei 
 father, as yours, if you like, but in the capacity of a lover- 
 impossible 1 " 
 
VENDETTA ) 
 
 117 
 
 He eyed me attentively. 
 
 "She said you did not seem old," he murmured, half to 
 himself and half to me. 
 
 " Oh, I grant vou she made me that little compliment, cer- 
 tainly," I answered, amused at the suspicions that evidently 
 tortured his mind ; " and I accepted it as it was meant — in 
 kindness. I am well aware what a battered and unsightly 
 wreck of a man I must appear in her eyes when contrasted 
 with you, Sir Antinous ! " 
 
 He flushed warmly. Then, with a half-apologetic air, ho 
 said : 
 
 " Well, you must forgive me if I have seemed overscrupu 
 lous, The contessa is like a — a sister to me ; in fact, my 
 late friend Fabio encouraged a fraternal affection between 
 us, and now he is gone I feel it more than ever my duty to 
 protect her, as it were, from herself. She is so young and 
 light-hearted and thoughtless that — but you understand me, 
 do you not ? " 
 
 I bowed. I understood him perfectly. He wanted no more 
 poachers on the land he himself had pilfered. Quite right, 
 from his point of view ! But I was the rightful owner of the 
 land after all, and I naturally had a different opinion of the 
 matter. However, I made no remark, and feigned to be 
 rather bored by the turn the conversation was taking. Seeing 
 this, Ferrari exerted himself to be agreeable ; he became a gay 
 and entertaining companion once more, and after he had fixed 
 the hour for our visit to the Villa Romani the next afternoon, 
 our talk turned upon various matters connected with Naples 
 and its inhabitants and their mode of life. I hazarded a few 
 remarks on the general immorality and loose principles that 
 prevailed among the people, just to draw my companion out 
 and sound his character more thoroughly — though I thought 
 I knew his opinions well. 
 
 " Pooh, my dear conte," he exclaimed, with a light laugh, 
 as he threw away the end of his cigar, and watched it as it 
 burned dully like a little red lamp among the green grass 
 where it had fallen, " what is immorality after all ? Merely a 
 matter of opinion. Take the hackneyed virtue of conjugal 
 fidelity. When followed out to the better end what is the good 
 of it — where does it lead ? Why should a man be tied to one 
 woman when he has love enough for twenty? The pretty 
 slender girl whom he chose as a partner in his impulsive 
 youth may become a fat, coarse, red-faced female horror by 
 t&e time he has attained to the full vigor of xnmhoo4 ? an d 
 
ji8 VENDETTA! 
 
 yet, as long as she lives, the law insists that the full tide of 
 passion shall flow always in one direction — always to the same 
 dull, level, unprofitable shore ! The law is absurd, but it ex- 
 ists ; and the natural consequence is that we break it. Society 
 pretends to be horrified when we do — yes, I know ; but it is 
 all pretense. And the thing is no worse in Naples than it is 
 5n London, the capital of the moral British race, only here we 
 are perfectly frank, and make no effort to hide our little sins, 
 while there, they cover them up carefully and make believe 
 to be virtuous. It is the veriest humbug — the parable of 
 Pharisee and Publican over again. 
 
 " Not quite," I observed ; " for the Publican was repentant, 
 and Naples is not." 
 
 " Why should she be ? " demanded Ferrari, gayly ; " what, 
 in the name of Heaven, is the good of being penitent about 
 anything? Will it mend matters ? Who is to be pacified or 
 pleased by our contrition ? God ? My dear conte, there are 
 very few of us nowadays who believe in a Deity. Creation is 
 a mere caprice of the natural elements. The best thing we 
 can do is to enjoy ourselves while we live ; we have a very 
 short time of it, and when we die there is an end of all things 
 so far as we are concerned." 
 
 " That is your creed ? " I asked. 
 
 " That is my creed, certainly. It was Solomon's in his 
 heart of hearts. ' Eart, drink and be merry, for to-morrow we 
 die.' It is the creed of Naples, and of nearly all Italy. Of 
 course the vulgar still cling to exploded theories of supersti- 
 tious belief, but the educated classes are far beyond the old- 
 world notions." 
 
 " I believe you," I answered, composedly. I had no wish 
 to argue with him ; I only sought to read his shallow soul 
 through and through that I might be convinced of his utter 
 worthlessness. " According to modern civilization there is 
 really no special need to be virtuous unless it suits us. The 
 only thing necessary for pleasant living is to avoid public 
 scandal." 
 
 " Just so ! " agreed Ferrari ; " and that can always be easily 
 managed. Take a woman's reputation — nothing is so easily 
 lost, we all know, before she is actually married ; but marry 
 her well, and she is free. She can have a dozen lovers if she 
 likes, and if she is a good manager her husband need never be 
 the wiser. He has his amours, of course — why should she 
 not have hers also ? Only some women are clumsy, they are 
 over-sensitive an4 betray themselves too easily ; tjieji the 
 
VENDETTA! Itg 
 
 injured husband (carefully concealing his little peccadilloes) 
 finds everything out and there is a devil of a row — a moral 
 row, which is the worst kind of row. But a really clever 
 woman can always steer clear of slander if she likes." 
 
 Contemptible ruffian ! I thought, glancing at his hand- 
 some face and figure with scarcely veiled contempt. With 
 all his advantages of education and his well-bred air he was 
 yet ruffian to the core — as low in nature, if not lower, than 
 the half-savage tramp for whom no social law has ever ex- 
 isted or ever will exist. But I merely observed : 
 
 " It is easy to see that you have a thorough knowledge of 
 the world and its ways. I admire your perception 1 From 
 your remarks I judge that you have no sympathy with marital 
 wrongs ? " 
 
 " Not the least," he replied, dryly ; " they are too common 
 and too ludicrous. The * wronged husband,' as he con« 
 siders himself in such cases, always cuts such an absurd 
 figure." 
 
 " Always ? " I inquired, with apparent curiosity. 
 
 " Well, generally speaking, he does. How can he remedy 
 the matter ? He can only challenge his wife's lover. A duel 
 is fought in which neither of the opponents are killed, they 
 wound each other slightly, embrace, weep, have coffee to- 
 gether, and for the future consent to share the lady's affec- 
 tions amicably." 
 
 " Veramente / " I exclaimed, with a forced laugh, inwardly 
 cursing his detestable flippancy ; " that is the fashionable 
 mode of taking vengeance ? " 
 
 " Absolutely the one respectable way of doing it," he 
 replied ; " it is only the canaille who draw heart's blood in 
 earnest." 
 
 Only the canaille / I looked at him fixedly. His smiling 
 eyes met mine with a frank and fearless candor. Evidently 
 he was not ashamed of his opinions, he rather gloried in 
 them. As he stood there with the warm sunlight playing 
 upon his features he seemed the very type of youthful and 
 splendid manhood ; an Apollo in exterior — in mind a Silenus. 
 My soul sickened at the sight of him. I felt that the sooner 
 this strong treacherous life was crushed the better; there 
 would be one traitor less in the world at any rate. The 
 thought of my dread but just purpose passed over me like the 
 breath of a bitter wind — a tremor shook my nerves. My 
 face must have betrayed some sign of my inward emotion, fol 
 Ferrari exclaimed : 
 
t2& VENDETTA I 
 
 " You are fatigued, conte ? You are ill ! Pray take m j 
 arm!" 
 
 He extended it as he spoke. I put it gently but firmly aside. 
 
 " It is nothing," I said, coldly ; " a mere faintness which 
 often overcomes me, the remains of a recent illness.*' Here 
 I glanced at my watch ; the afternoon was waning rapidly. 
 
 " If you will excuse me," I continued, " I will now take 
 leave of you. Regarding the pictures you have permitted 
 me to select, my servant shall call tor them this evening to 
 save you the trouble of sending them," 
 
 " It is no trouble " began Ferrari. 
 
 u Pardon me," I interrupted him ; " you must allow me to 
 arrange the matter in my own way. I am somewhat self- 
 willed, as you know." 
 
 He bowed and smiled — the smile of a courtier and syco- 
 phant — a smile I hated. He eagerly proposed to accompany 
 me back to my hotel, but I declined this offer somewhat per- 
 emptorily, though at the same time thanking him for his 
 courtesy. The truth was I had had almost too much of his 
 society ; the strain on my nerves began to tell ; I craved to 
 be alone. I felt that if I were much longer with him I should 
 be tempted to spring at him and throttle the life out of him. 
 As it was, I bade him adieu with friendly though constrained 
 politeness ; he was profuse in his acknowledgments of the 
 favor I had done him by purchasing his pictures. I waived 
 all thanks aside, assuring him that my satisfaction in the 
 matter far exceeded his, and that I was proud to be the pos- 
 sessor of such valuable proofs of his genius. He swallowed 
 my flattery as eagerly as a fish swallows bait, and we parted 
 on excellent terms. He watched me from his door as I 
 walked down the hilly road with the slow and careful step of 
 ,an elderly man ; once out of his sight, however, I quickened 
 jfciy pace, for the tempest of conflicting sensations within me 
 |made it difficult for me to maintain even the appearance of 
 Composure. On entering my apartment at the hotel the first 
 thing that met my eyes was a large gilt osier basket, filled 
 with fine fruit and flowers, placed conspicuously on the 
 center-table. 
 
 I summoned my valet. " Who sent this ? " I demanded. 
 
 * Madame the Contessa Romani," replied Vincenzo, with 
 discreet gravity. " There is a card attached, if the eccel- 
 lenza will be pleased to look." 
 
 I did look. It was my wife's visiting-card, and on it was 
 written in her own delicate penmanship — 
 
VENDETTA t 12* 
 
 "To remind the conte of his promised visit to-morrow." 
 
 A sudden anger possessed me. I crumpled up the dainty 
 glossy bit of pasteboard and flung it aside. The mingled 
 odors of the fruit and flowers offended my senses. 
 
 " I care nothing for these trifles," I said, addressing Vin- 
 cenzo almost impatiently. " Take them to the little daughter 
 of the hotel-keeper ; she is a child, she will appreciate them, 
 Take them away at once." 
 
 Obediently Vincenzo lifted the basket and bore it out of the 
 room. I was relieved when its fragrance and color had van- 
 ished. I, to receive as a gift, the product of my own garden ! 
 Half vexed, half sore at heart, I threw myself into an easy- 
 chair — anon I laughed aloud ! So ! Madame commences 
 the game early, I thought. Already paying these marked at- 
 tentions to a man she knows nothing of beyond that he is re- 
 ported to be fabulously wealthy. Gold, gold forever! What 
 will it not do ! It will bring the proud to their knees, it will 
 force the obstinate to servile compliance, it will conquer 
 aversion and prejudice. The world is a slave to its yellow 
 glitter, and the love of woman, that perishable article of 
 commerce, is ever at its command. Would you obtain a kiss 
 from a pair of ripe-red lips that seem the very abode of 
 honeyed sweetness ? Pay for it then with a lustrous dia- 
 mond ; the larger the gem the longer the kiss ! The more 
 diamonds you give, the more caresses you will get. The 
 jeunesse doi-ee who ruin themselves and their ancestral homes 
 for the sake of the newest and prettiest female puppet on the 
 stage know this well enough. I smiled bitterly as I thought 
 of the languid witching look my wife had given me when she 
 said, " You do not seem to be old ! " I knew the meaning 
 of her eyes ; I had not studied their liquid lights and shadows 
 so long for nothing. My road to revenge was a straight anc* 
 perfectly smooth line — almost too smooth. I could havt 
 wished for some difficulty, some obstruction ; but there was 
 none — absolutely none. The traitors walked deliberately 
 into the trap set for them. Over and over again I asked 
 myself quietly and in cold blood — was there any reason why 
 I should have pity on them ? Had they shown one redeem- 
 ing point in their characters ? Was there any nobleness, 
 any honesty, any real sterling good quality in either of 
 them to justify my consideration ? And always the an- 
 swer came, No / Hollow to the heart's core, hypocrites 
 both, liars both — even the guilty passion they cherished for 
 one another had no real earnestness in it save the pursuit of 
 
j 22 VENDETTA! '* " 
 
 present pleasure ; for she, Nina, in that fatal interview in th* 
 avenue where I had been a tortured listener, had hinted at 
 the possibility of tiring of her lover, and he had frankly de- 
 clared to me that very day that it was absurd to suppose a 
 man could be true to one woman all his life. In brief, they 
 deserved their approaching fate. Such men as Guido and 
 such women as my wife, are, I know, common enough in al' 
 classes of society, but they are not the less pernicious ani- 
 nals, meriting extermination as much, if not more, than the 
 j'ess harmful beasts of prey. The poor beasts at any rate tell 
 no lies, and after death their skins are of some value ; but 
 who shall measure the mischief done by a false tongue — and 
 of what use is the corpse of a liar save to infect the air with 
 pestilence ? I used to wonder at the superiority of men over 
 the rest of the animal creation, but I see now that it is chiefly 
 gained by excess of selfish cunning. The bulky, good- 
 natured, ignorant lion who has only one honest way of de- 
 fending himself, namely with tooth and claw, is no match for 
 the jumping two-legged little rascal who hides himself behind 
 a bush and fires a gun aimed direct at the bigger brute's 
 heart. Yet the lion's mode of battle is the braver of the two, 
 and the cannons, torpedoes and other implements of modern 
 warfare are proofs of man's cowardice and cruelty as much 
 as they are of his diabolical ingenuity. Calmly comparing 
 the ordinary lives of men and beasts — judging them by their 
 abstract virtues merely — I am inclined to think the beasts 
 the more respectable of the two ! 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Welcome to Villa Romani ! " 
 
 The words fell strangely on my ears. Was I dreaming, or 
 was I actually standing on the smooth green lawn of my own 
 garden, mechanically saluting my own wife, who, smiling 
 sweetly, uttered this cordial greeting ? For a moment or two 
 my brain became confused ; the familiar veranda with its 
 clustering roses and jasmine swayed unsteadily before my 
 eyes ; the stately house, the home of my childhood, the scene 
 of my past happiness, rocked in the air as though it were 
 about to fall. A choking sensation affected my throat. 
 Even the sternest men shed tears sometimes. Such tears 
 too ! wrung like drops of blood from the heart. And I — I 
 could have wept thus. Oh, the dear old home 1 and ho* 
 
VENDETTA! 1 23 
 
 fair and yet how sad it seemed to my anguished gaze ! It 
 should have been in ruins surely — broken and cast down in 
 the dust like its master's peace and honor. Its master, did 
 I say ? Who was its master ? Involuntarily I glanced a: 
 Ferrari, who stood beside me. Not he — not he ; by Heaven 
 he should never be master ! But where was my authority ? 
 I came to the place as a stranger and an alien. The starv^ 
 ing beggar who knows not where to lay his head has nc 
 emptier or more desolate heart than I had as I looked wist- 
 fully on the home which was mine before I died ! I noticed 
 some slight changes here and there ; for instance, my deep 
 easy-chaii that had always occupied one particular corner 
 of the veranda was gone ; a little tame bird that I had loved, 
 whose cage used to hang up among the white roses on the 
 wall, was also gone. My old butler, the servant who ad- 
 mitted Ferrari and myself within the gates, had an expres- 
 sion of weariness and injury on his aged features which he 
 had not worn in my time, and which I was sorry to see. 
 And my dog, the noble black Scotch colly, what had become 
 of him, I wondered ? He had been presented to me by a 
 young Highlander who had passed one winter with me in 
 Rome, and who, on returning to his native mountains, had 
 sent me the dog, a perfect specimen of its kind, as a souvenir 
 of our friendly intercourse. Poor Wyvis ! I thought. Had 
 they made away with him ? Formerly he had always been 
 visible about the house or garden ; his favorite place was on 
 the lowest veranda step, where he loved to bask in the heat 
 of the sun. And now he was nowhere visible. I was mutely 
 indignant at his disappearance, but I kept strict watch over 
 my feelings, and remembered in time the part I had to play. 
 
 " Welcome to Villa Romani ! " so said my wife. Then, 
 remarking my silence as I looked about me, she added with 
 a pretty coaxing air, 
 
 " I am afraid after all you are sorry you have come to see 
 me!" 
 
 I smiled. It served my purpose now to be as gallant and 
 agreeable as I could ; therefore I answered •. 
 
 " Sorry, madame ! If I were, then should I be the most 
 ungrateful of all men ! Was Dante sorry, think you, when 
 he was permitted to behold Paradise ? " 
 
 She blushed; her eyes drooped softly under their long 
 curling lashes. Ferrari frowned impatiently — but was silent 
 She led the way into the house — into the lofty cool drawing- 
 room, whose wide windows opened out to the gardeh. Here 
 
J24 VENDETTA t 
 
 all was the same as ever with the exception of one thing— £ 
 marble bust of myself as a boy had been removed. The 
 grand piano was open, the mandoline lay on a side-table, look 
 ing as though it had been recently used ; there were fresh 
 flowers and ferns in all the tall Venetian glass vases. ) 
 seated myself and remarked on the beauty of the house and 
 its surroundings. 
 
 " I remember it very well, 5 * I added, quietly. 
 
 " You remember it ! " exclaimed Ferrari, quickly, as thougt 
 surprised. 
 
 " Certainly, I omitted to tell you, my friend, that I use<1 
 to visit this spot often when a boy. The elder Contfc 
 Romani and myself played about these grounds together 
 The scene is quite familiar to me." 
 
 Nina listened with an appearance of interest. 
 
 " Did you ever see my late husband ? " she asked, 
 
 " Once," I answered her, gravely. " He was a mere child 
 at the time, and, as far as I could discern, a very promising 
 one. His father seemed greatly attached to him. I knew 
 his mother also." 
 
 11 Indeed," she exclaimed, settling herself on a low otto- 
 man and fixing her eyes upon me ; " what was she like ? " 
 
 I paused a moment before replying. Could I speak oi 
 that unstained sacred life of wifehood and motherhood tc 
 this polluted though lovely creature ? 
 
 " She was a beautiful woman unconscious of her beauty, r 
 I answered at last. " There, all is said. Her sole aim 
 seemed to be to forget herself in making others happy, and 
 to surround her home with an atmosphere of goodness and 
 virtue. She died young." 
 
 Ferrari glanced at me with an evil sneer in his eyes. 
 
 " That was fortunate," he said. " She had no time to tire 
 of her husband, else- — who knows?" 
 
 My blood rose rapidly to an astonishing heat, but I con 
 trolled myself. 
 
 " I do not understand you," I said, with marked frigidity. 
 " The lady I speak of lived and died under the old rigime oi 
 noblesse oblige. I am not so well versed in modern social 
 forms of morality as yourself." 
 
 Nina hastily interposed. " Oh, my dear conte," she said, 
 laughingly, " pay no attention to Signor Ferrari ! He is rash 
 sometimes, and says very foolish things, but he really does 
 not mean them. It is only his way ! My poor dear husband 
 used to be quite vexed with him sometimes, though he wai 
 
VEtfDETTAl *25 
 
 bo fond of him. But, conte, as you know so much about 
 the family, I am sure you will like to see my little Stella. 
 Shall I send for her, or are you bored by children ?" 
 
 " On the contrary, madame, I am fond of them," I an- 
 swered, with forced composure, though my heart throbbed 
 mth. mingled delight and agony at the thought of seeing my 
 ittle one again. " And the child of my old friend's son must 
 jeeds have a double interest for me." 
 
 My wiie rang the bell, and gave orders to the maid whc 
 answered it to send her little girl to her at once. Ferrari 
 neanwhile engaged me in conversation, and strove, I could 
 *ee, by entire deference to my opinions, to make up for any 
 offense his previous remark might have given. A few mo- 
 ments passed — and then the handle of the drawing-room 
 door was timidly turned by an evidently faltering and un- 
 practiced hand. Nina called out impatiently — "Come in, 
 baby ! Do not be afraid — come in 1 " With that trm door 
 slowly opened and my little daughter entered* TLough I 
 had been so short a time absent from her it was easy to see 
 the child had changed very much. Her face looked pinched 
 and woe-begone, its expression was one of ftar and distrust 
 The laughter had faded out of her young eyes, and was re- 
 placed by a serious look of pained resignation that was piti- 
 ful to see in one of her tender years. Her mouth drooped 
 plaintively at the corners — her whole demeanor had an ap- 
 pealing anxiety in it that spoke plainly to my soul and en- 
 lightened me as to the way she had evidently been forgotten 
 and neglected. She approached us hesitatingly, but stopped 
 half-way and looked doubtfully at Ferrari. He met her 
 alarmed gaze with a mocking smile. 
 
 " Come along, Stella I " he said. " You need not be fright- 
 ened ! I will not scold you unless you are naughty. Silly 
 jhild ! you look as if I were the giant in the fairy tale, go- 
 ing to eat you up for dinner. Come and speak to this gen 
 "leman — he knew your papa." 
 
 At this word her eyes brightened, her small steps grew 
 more assured and steady — she advanced and put her tiny 
 hand in mine. The touch of the soft, uncertain little fingers 
 almost unmanned me. I drew her toward me and lifted her 
 on my knee. Under pretense of kissing her I hid my face 
 for a second or two in her clustering fair curls, while I forced 
 back the womanish tears that involuntarily filled my eyes. 
 My poor little darling ! I wonder now how I maintained my 
 set composure before the innocent thoughtfulrie§£ of hes 
 
a«& mwmrTAt 
 
 travely questioning gaze i I had fancied she might possible 
 be scared by the black spectacles I wore— children are 
 frightened by such things sometimes — but she was not. No ; 
 she sat on my knee with an air of perfect satisfaction, though 
 she looked at me so earnestly as almost to disturb my self- 
 possession. Nina and Ferrari watched her with some amuse 
 ment, but she paid no heed to them — she persisted in staring 
 at me. Suddenly a slow sweet smile — the tranquil smile of 
 a contented baby, dawned all over her face ; she extended 
 her little arms, and, of her own accord, put up her lips to 
 kiss me I Half startled at this manifestation of affection, I 
 hurriedly caught her to my heart and returned her caress, 
 then I looked furtively at my wife and Guido. Had they 
 any suspicion ? No I why should they have any ? Had not' 
 Ferrari himself seen me buried 7 Reassured by this thought 
 I addressed myself to Stella, making my voice as gratingly 
 harsh as I could, for I dreaded the child's quick instinct. 
 
 ** You are a very charming little lady I " I said, playfully, 
 u And so your name is Stella ? That is because you are a 
 little star, I suppose ? " 
 
 She became meditative. " Papa said I was," she answered, 
 softly and shyly. 
 
 " Papa spoiled you 1 " interposed Nina, pressing a filmy 
 black-bordered handkerchief to her eyes. " Poor papa I 
 You were not so naughty to him as you are to me." 
 
 The child's lip quivered, but she was silent 
 
 " Oh, fy ! " I murmured, half chidingly. * Are you ever 
 caughty ? Surely not ! All little stars are good — they never 
 cry — they are always bright and calm." 
 
 Still she remained mute — a sigh, deep enough for an older 
 sufferer, heaved her tiny breast. She leaned her head against 
 my arm and raised her eyes appealingly. 
 
 44 Have you seen my papa?" she asked, timidly. " Will 
 he come back soon ? " 
 
 For a moment I did not answer her. Ferrari took it upon 
 himself to reply roughly. 
 
 u Don't talk nonsense, baby ! You knovt your papa has 
 gone away — you were too naughty for him, and he will never 
 come back again. He has gone to a place where there are no 
 tiresome little girls to tease him." 
 
 Thoughtless and cruel words t I at once understood the 
 secret grief that weighed on the child's mind. Whenever 
 she was fretful or petulant, they evidently impressed it Upon 
 |p Ifcflt her father had 1 eft her because of her naughtiness 
 
V EM D ETTA! 1 27 
 
 She had taken this deeply to heart ; no doubt she had 
 brooded upon it in her own vague childish fashion, and had 
 puzzled her little brain as to what she could possibly have 
 done to displease her father so greatly that he had actually 
 gone away never to return. Whatever her thoughts were* 
 she did not on this occasion give vent to them by tears or 
 words. She only turned her eyes on Ferrari with a look of 
 intense pride and scorn, strange to see in so little a creature 
 — a true Romani look, such as I had often noticed in my 
 father's eyes, and such as I knew must be frequently visible 
 in my own. Ferrari saw it, and burst out laughing loudly. 
 
 " There ! " he exclaimed. " Like that she exactly re- 
 sembles her father ! It is positively ludicrous ! Fabio, all 
 over ! She only wants one thing to make the portrait perfect." 
 And approaching her, he snatched one of her long curls and 
 endeavored to twist it over her mouth in the form of a mus- 
 tache. The child struggled angrily, and hid her face against 
 my coat. The more she tried to defend herself the greater 
 the malice with which Ferrari tormented her. Her mother 
 did not interfere — ske only laughed. I held the little thing 
 closely sheltered in my embrace, and steadying down the 
 quiver of indignation in my voice, I said with quiet firmness : 
 
 " Fair play, signor ! Fair play ! Strength becomes mere 
 bullying when it is employed against absolute weakness." 
 
 Ferrari laughed again, but this time uneasily, and ceasing 
 his monkeyish pranks, walked to the window. Smoothing 
 Stella's tumbled hair, I added with a sarcastic smile : 
 
 " This little donzella will have her revenge when she grows 
 up. Recollecting how one man teased her in childhood, she, 
 in return, will consider herself justified in teasing all men. 
 Do you not agree with me, madame ? " I said, turning to my 
 wife, who gave me a sweetly coquettish look as she answered : 
 
 " Well, really, conte, I do not know ! For with the remem- 
 brance of one man who teased her, must come also the 
 thought of another who was kind to her — yourself — she will 
 find it difficult to decide the juste milieu." 
 
 A subtle compliment was meant to be conveyed in these 
 words. I acknowledged it by a silent gesture of admiration, 
 which she quickly understood and accepted. Was ever a 
 man in the position of being delicately nattered by his own 
 wife before ? I think not ! Generally married persons are 
 like candid friends — fond of telling each other very unpleas- 
 ant truths, and altogether avoiding the least soupcon of 
 flattery. Though I was not so much flattered as amused—* 
 
1*8 PEtfmfTA / 
 
 considering the position ot affairs, lust then a servant thro* 
 open the door and announced dinner. I set my child very 
 gently down from my knee and whisperingly told her that I 
 would come and see her soon again. She smiled trustfully 
 and then in obedience to her mother's imperative gesture^ 
 clipped quietly out of the room. As soon as she had gonf 
 I praised her beauty warmly, for she was really a lovely little 
 thing — but I could see my admiration of her was not very 
 acceptable to either my wife or her lover. We all went in te 
 dinner — I, as guest, having the privilege of escorting my fail 
 and spotless spouse! On our reaching the dining-rooiE 
 Ninr said — 
 
 w You are such an old friend of the family, conte, that per 
 baps you will not mind sitting at the head of the table ? " 
 
 " Tropf <more % signora I " I answered, bowing gallantly, as 
 I at once resumed my rightful place at my own table, Ferrari 
 placing himself on my right hand, Nina on my left. The 
 Sutler, my father's servant and mine, stood as of old behind 
 my chair, and I noticed that each time he supplied me with 
 wine he eyed me with a certain timid curiosity — but I knew 
 I had a singular and conspicuous appearance, which easily 
 accounted for his inquisitiveness. Opposite to where I sat, 
 hung my father's portrait — the character I personated per- 
 mitted me to look at it fixedly and give full vent to the aeep 
 sigh which in very earnest broke from my heart. The eyes 
 of the picture seemed to gaze into mine with a sorrowful 
 compassion — almost I fancied the firm-set lips trembled and 
 Cloved to echo my sigh. 
 
 " Is that a good likeness ? " Ferrari asked, suddenly. 
 
 I started, and recollecting myself, answered : 
 
 * Excellent I So true a resemblance that it arouses along 
 train of memories in my mind — memories both bitter and 
 sweet Ah ! what a proud fellow he was ! " 
 
 " Fabio was also very proud,*' chimed in my wife's sweet 
 voice. " Very co'd and haughty " 
 
 Little liar I How dared she utter this libel on my mem* 
 ory \ Haughty, I might have been to others, but never to 
 her — and coldness was no part of my nature. Would that it 
 were ! Would that I had been a pillar of ice, incapable of 
 thawing in the sunlight of her witching smile I Had she 
 forgotten what a slave I was to her ? what a poor, adoring, 
 passionate fool I became under the influence of her hypo- 
 critical caresses * I thought this to myseit but I answered 
 
VENDETTA! 
 
 129 
 
 " Indeed ! I am surprised to hear that. The Roman! 
 hauteur had ever to my mind something genial and yielding 
 about it — I know my friend was always most gentle to his 
 dependents." 
 
 The butler here coughed apologetically behind his hand 
 ^an old trick of his, and one which signified his intense de- 
 sire to speak. 
 
 Ferrari laughed, as he held out his glass for more wine. 
 
 " Here is old Giacomo," he said, nodding to him lightly. 
 " He remembers both the Romanis — ask him his opinion of 
 Fabio — he worshiped his master." 
 
 I turned to my servant, and with a benignant air addressed 
 him: 
 
 "Your face is not familiar to me, my friend," I said. 
 " Perhaps you were not here when I visited the elder Count 
 Romani ? " 
 
 " No, eccellenza," replied Giacomo, rubbing his withered 
 hands nervously together, and speaking with a sort of sup- 
 pressed eagerness, " I came into my lord's service only a year 
 before the countess died — I mean the mother of the young 
 count." 
 
 " Ah ! then I missed making your acquaintance," I said, 
 kindly, pitying the poor old fellow, as I noticed how his lips 
 trembled, and how altogether broken he looked. " You knew 
 the last count from childhood, then?" 
 
 " I did, eccellenza ! " And his bleared eyes roved over me 
 with a sort of alarmed inquiry. 
 
 " You loved him well ? " I said, composedly, observing him 
 with embarrassment. 
 
 " Eccellenza, I never wish to serve a better master. He 
 was goodness itself — a fine, handsome, generous lad — the 
 saints have his soul in their keeping ! Though sometimes I 
 cannot believe he is dead — my old heart almost broke when 
 I heard it. I have never been the same since — my lady will 
 tell you so — she is often displeased with me/' 
 
 4nd he looked wistfully at her ; there was a note of plead- 
 ing in his hesitating accents. My wife's delicate brows drew 
 together in a frown ; a frown that I had once thought came 
 from mere petulance, but which I was now inclined to accept 
 as a sign of temper. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Giacomo," she said, in hard tones, altogether 
 unlike her usual musical voice. " You are growing so forget- 
 ful that it is positively annoying. You know I have often ta 
 9 
 
I 3 o VEtfDETTAl 
 
 tell you the same thing several times. One command ought 
 to be sufficient for you. ' 
 
 Giacomo passed his hand aver his forehead in a troubled 
 way, sighed, and was silent. Then, as if suddenly recollect- 
 ing his duty, he refilled my glass, and shrinking aside, re« 
 sumed his former position behind my chair. 
 
 The conversation now turned on desultory and indifferent 
 matters. I knew my wife was an excellent talker, but on that 
 particular evening I think she surpassed herself. She had re- 
 solved to fascinate me, that I saw at once, and she spared no 
 pains to succeed in her ambition. Graceful sallies, witty bon- 
 mots tipped with the pungent sparkle of satire, gay stories 
 well and briskly told, all came easily from her lips, so that 
 though I knew her so well, she almost surprised me by her 
 variety and fluency. Yet this gift of good conversation in a 
 woman is apt to mislead the judgment of those who listen, for 
 it is seldom the result of thought, and still more seldom is it a 
 proof of intellectual capacity. A woman talks as a brook 
 babbles ; pleasantly, but without depth. Her information is 
 generally of the most surface kind — she skims the cream off 
 each item of news, and serves it up to you in her #wn fashion, 
 caring little whether it be correct or the reverse. And the 
 more vivaciously she talks, the more likely she is to be dan- 
 gerously insincere and cold-hearted, for the very sharpness of 
 her wit is apt to spoil the more delicate perceptions of her nat- 
 ure. Show me a brilliant woman noted for turning an epigram 
 or pointing a satire, and I will show you a creature whose life 
 is a masquerade, full of vanity, sensuality and pride. The 
 man who marries such a one must be content to take the 
 second place in his household, and play the character of the 
 henpecked husband with what meekness he best may. An- 
 swer me, ye long suffering spouses of " society women," how 
 much would you give to win back your freedom and self-re- 
 spect ? to be able to hold your head up unabashed before your 
 own servants ? to feel that you can actually give an order with- 
 out its being instantly countermanded ? Ah, my poor friends J 
 millions will not purchase you such joy ; as long as your fas- 
 cinating fair ones are like Caesar's wife, " above suspicion " 
 (and they are generally prudent managers), so long must you 
 dance in their chains like the good-natured clumsy bears that 
 you are, only giving vent to a growl now and then ; a growl 
 which at best only excites ridicule. My wife was of the true 
 world worldly ; never had I seen her real character so plainly 
 as oow, when she exerted herself to entertain and charm me. 
 
VEXDETTA) 131 
 
 I h&l "bought her spirituelle, ethereal, angelic ! never was 
 there less of an angel than she ! While she talked, I was 
 quick to observe the changes on Ferrari's countenance. He 
 became more silent and sullen as her brightness and cordial- 
 ity increased. I would not appear aware of the growing 
 stiffness in his demeanor ; I continued to draw him into the 
 conversation, forcing him to give opinions on various sub- 
 jects connected with the art of which he was professedly a 
 follower. He was very reluctant to speak at all ; and when 
 compelled to do so, his remarks were curt and almost snap- 
 pish, so much so that my wife made a laughing comment on 
 his behavior. 
 
 "You are positively ill-tempered, Guido ! " she exclaimed, 
 then remembering she had addressed him by his Christian 
 name, she turned to me and added — " I always call him 
 Guido, en famiHe ; you know he is just like a brother to 
 
 1X16." 
 
 He looked at her and his eyes flashed dangerously, but he 
 was mute. Nina was evidently pleased to see him in such a 
 vexed mood ; she delighted to pique his pride, and as he 
 steadily gazed at her in a sort of reproachful wonder, she 
 laughed joyously. Then rising from the table, she made us 
 a coquettish courtesy. 
 
 " I will leave you two gentlemen to finish your wine to- 
 gether," she said, " I know all men love to talk a little 
 scandal, and they must be alone to enjoy it. Afterward, 
 will you join me in the veranda ? You will find coffee 
 ready." 
 
 I hastened to open the door for her as she passed out smil- 
 ing ; then, returning to the table, I poured out more wine for 
 myself and Ferrari, who sat gloomily eying his own reflection 
 in the broad polished rim of a silver fruit-dish that stood 
 near him. Giacomo, the butler, had long ago left the room : 
 we were entirely alone. I thought over my plans for a mo- 
 ment or two ; the game was as interesting as a problem in 
 chess. With the deliberation of a prudent player I made my 
 next move. 
 
 " A lovely woman ! " I murmured, meditatively, sipping my 
 wine, " and intelligent also. I admire your taste, signor 1 " 
 
 He started violently. " What — what do you mean ? " he 
 demanded, half fiercely. I stroked my mustache and smiled 
 at him benevolently. 
 
 " Ah, young blood ! young blood ! " I sighed, shaking my 
 ^ead, " it will have its way ! My good sir, why be ashamed 
 
13a VENDETTA! 
 
 of your feelings ? I heartily sympathize with you ; if the lady 
 does not appreciate the affection of so ardent and gallant an 
 admirer, then she is foolish indeed ! It is not every woman 
 who has such a chance of happiness." 
 
 " You think — you imagine that — that — I- " 
 
 " That you are in love with her ? " I said, composedly. 
 *' Ma — certamente! And why not ? It is as it should be, 
 Even the late conte could wish no fairer fate for his beauti- 
 ful widow than that she should become the wife of his chosen 
 friend. Permit me to drink your health ! Success to your 
 love ! " And I drained my glass as I finished speaking. 
 Unfortunate fool ! He was completely disarmed , his sus- 
 picions of me melted away like mist before the morning 
 light. His face cleared — he seized my hand and pressed it 
 warmly. 
 
 " Forgive me, conte," he said, with remorseful fervor ; " I 
 fear I have been rude and unsociable. Your kind words 
 have put me right again. You will think me a jealous mad- 
 man, but I really fancied that you were beginning to feel an 
 attraction for her yourself, and actually — (pardon me, I en- 
 treat of you ! ) actually I was making up my mind to — to kill 
 you ! " 
 
 I laughed quietly. " Veramente! How very amiable of 
 you ! It was a good intention, but you know what place is 
 paved with similar designs ? " 
 
 " Ah, conte, it is like your generosity to take my confes- 
 sion so lightly ; but I assure you, for the last hour I have 
 been absolutely wretched ! " 
 
 " After the fashion of all lovers, I suppose," I answered — 
 " torturing yourself without necessity ! Well, well, it is very 
 amusing I My young friend, when you come to my time of 
 Jife, you will prefer the chink of gold to the laughter and 
 kisses of women. How often must I repeat to you that I 
 am a man absolutely indifferent to the tender passion ? Be- 
 lieve it or not, it is true." 
 
 He drank off his wine at one gulp and spoke with some 
 excitement. 
 
 " Then I will frankly confide in you. I do love the con- 
 tessa. Love ! it is too weak a word to describe what I feel. 
 The touch of her hand thrills me, her very voice seems to 
 shake my soul, her eyes burn through me ! Ah ! you cannot 
 know — you could not understand the joy, the pain " 
 
 " Calm yourself," I said, in a cold tone, watching my vic« 
 tim as his pent-up emotion betrayed itself, * The great thing 
 
VENDETTA t 133 
 
 is to keep the head cool when the blood burns. You think 
 she loves you ? " 
 
 " Think ! Gran Dio / She has " here he paused and his 
 
 face flushed deeply — " nay ! I have no right to say anything 
 on that score. I know she never cared for her husband." 
 
 " I know that too ! * I answered, steadily. " The most 
 casual observer cannot fail to notice it." 
 
 " Well, and no wonder ! " he exclaimed, warmly. " He 
 was such an undemonstrative fool ! What business had such 
 a fellow as that to marry so exquisite a creature ! " 
 
 My heart leaped with a sudden impulse of fury, but I con- 
 trolled my voice and answered calmly : 
 
 " Requiescat in pace ! He is dead — let him rest. What 
 ever his faults, his wife of course was true to him while he 
 lived ; she considered him worthy of fidelity- — is it not so ? n 
 
 He lowered his eyes as he replied in an indistinct tone : 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! " 
 
 " And you — you were a most loyal and faithful friend tc 
 him, in spite of the tempting bright eyes of his lady ? " 
 
 Again he answered huskily, " Why, of course 1 " But th* 
 shapely hand that rested on the table so near to mine trem- 
 bled. 
 
 " Well, then," I continued, quietly, " the love you beai 
 now to his fair widow is, I imagine, precisely what he would 
 approve. Being, as you say, perfectly pure and blameless, 
 what can I wish otherwise than this — may it meet with the r& 
 ward it deserves ! " 
 
 While I spoke he moved uneasily in his chair, and his eyes 
 roved to my father's picture with restless annoyance. I sup- 
 pose he saw in it the likeness to his dead friend. After a 
 moment or two of silence he turned to me with a forced 
 smile — 
 
 " And so you reallv entertain no admiration for the con 
 tessa ? " 
 
 " Oh, pardon me, I do entertain a very strong admiration 
 for her, but not of the kind you seem to suspect. If it will 
 please you, I can guarantee that I shall never make love to 
 the lady unless " 
 
 " Unless what ? " he asked, eagerly. 
 
 " Unless she happens to make love to me, in which case it 
 would be ungallant not to reciprocate ! " 
 
 And I laughed harshly. He stared at me in blank sur- 
 prise. " She make love to you/" he exclaimed. " You jest 
 She would never do such a thing." 
 
134 VENDETTA t 
 
 " Of course not ! " I answered, rising and clapping him 
 heavily on the shoulder. " Women never court men, it is 
 quite unheard of ; a reverse of the order of nature ! You are 
 perfectly safe, my friend ; you will certainly win the recom- 
 pense you so richly merit. Come, let us go and drink coffee 
 with the fair one." 
 
 And arm-in-arm we sauntered out to the veranda in the 
 most friendly way possible. Ferrari was completely restored 
 to good humor, and Nina, I thought, was rather relieved to 
 see it. She was evidently afraid of Ferrari — a good point 
 for me to remember. She smiled a welcome to us as we ap- 
 proached, and began to pour out the fragrant coffee. It was 
 a glorious evening; the moon was already high in the 
 heavens, and the nightingales' voices echoed softly from the 
 distant woods. As I seated myself in a lov* chair that was 
 placed invitingly near that of my hostess, my ears were 
 startled by a long melancholy howl, which changed every 
 now and then to an impatient whine. 
 
 " What is that ? " I asked, though the question was need- 
 less, for I knew the sound. 
 
 " Oh, it is that tiresome dog Wyvis," answered Nina, in a 
 vexed tone. " He belonged to Fabio. He makes the even- 
 tag quite miserable with his moaning." 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 " Well, after my husband's death he became so trouble- 
 some, roaming all over the house and wailing ; and then he 
 would insist on sleeping in Stella's room close to her bed- 
 side. He really worried me both day and night, so I was 
 compelled to chain him up." 
 
 Poor Wyvis ! He was sorely punished for his fidelity. 
 
 " I am very fond of dogs," I said, slowly, " and they gen- 
 erally take to me with extraordinary devotion. May I see 
 this one of yours ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! Guido, will you go and unfasten him ? * 
 
 Guido did not move ; he leaned easily back in his chair 
 sipping his coffee. 
 
 " Many thanks," he answered, with a half laugh; "per- 
 haps you forget that last time I did so he nearly tore me to 
 pieces. If you do not object, I would rather Giacomo 
 undertook the task." 
 
 " After such an account of the animal's conduct, perhaps 
 the conte will not care to see him. It is true enough," turn 
 ing to me as she spoke, " Wyvis has taken a great dislike to 
 Signor Ferrari — and yet he is a good-natured dog, and playa 
 
VENDETTA t 135 
 
 with my little g-irl all day if she goes to him. Do you feel in- 
 clined to see him ? Yes ? " And, as I bowed in the affirm- 
 ative, she rang a little bell twice, and the butler appeared. 
 
 " Giacomo," she continued, " unloose Wyvis and send him 
 here." 
 
 Giaccmo gave me another of those timid questioning 
 glances, and departed to execute his order. In another five 
 minutes, the howling had suddenly ceased, a long, lithe, 
 black, shadowy creature came leaping wildly across the 
 moonlighted lawn — Wyvis was racing at full speed He 
 paid no heed to his mistress or Ferrari , he rushed straight 
 to me with a yelp of joy. His huge tail wagged incessantly, 
 he panted thirstily with excitement, he frisked round and 
 round my chair, he abased himself and kissed my feet and 
 hands, he rubbed his stately head fondly against my knee. 
 His frantic demonstrations of delight were watched by my 
 wife and Ferrari with utter astonishment. I observed their 
 surprise, and said lightly : 
 
 " I told you how it would be ! It is nothing remarkable, 
 I assure you. All dogs treat me in the same way." 
 
 And I laid my hand on the animal's neck with a command- 
 ing pressure , he lay down at once, only now and then rais- 
 ing his large wistful brown eyes to my face as though he 
 wondered what had changed it so greatly. But no disguise 
 could deceive his intelligence — the faithful creature knew 
 his master. Meantime I thought Nina looked pale ; cer- 
 tainly the little jeweled white hand nearest to me shook 
 slightly. 
 
 " Are you afraid of this noble animal, madame? " I asked, 
 watching her closely. She laughed, a little forcedly. 
 
 M Oh, no ! But Wyvis is usually so shy with strangers, and 
 I never saw him greet any one so rapturously except my late 
 husband. It is really very odd ! " 
 
 Ferrari, by his looks, agreed with her, and appeared to be 
 jneasily considering the circumstance. 
 
 " Strange to say," he remarked, " Wyvis has for once for- 
 gotten me. He never fails to give me a passing snarl." 
 
 Hearing his voice, the dog did indeed commence growling 
 discontentedly ; but a touch from me silenced him. The 
 animal's declared enmity toward Ferrari surprised me — it 
 was quite a new thing, as before my burial his behavior to 
 him had been perfectly friendly. 
 
 " I have had a great deal to do with dogs in my time," I 
 said, speaking in a deliberately composed voice, " I have 
 
\$6 VENDETTA I 
 
 found their instinct marvelous ; they generally seem to recog- 
 nize at once the persons who are fond of their society. This 
 Wyvis of yours, contessa, has no doubt discovered that I 
 have had many friends among his brethren, so that there is 
 notning strange in his making so much of me." 
 
 Hie air of studied indifference with which I spoke, and 
 the fact of my taking the exuberant delight of Wyvis as a 
 matter of course, gradually reassured the plainly disturbed 
 feelings of my two betrayers, for after a little pause the 
 incident was passed over, and our conversation went on with 
 pleasant and satisfactory smoothness. Before my departure 
 that evening, however, I offered to chain up the dog — " as, 
 if I do this," I added, " I guarantee he will not disturb your 
 night's rest by his howling." 
 
 This suggestion met with approval, and Ferrari walked 
 with me to show me where the kennel stood. I chained 
 Wyvis, and stroked him tenderly ; he appeared to understand, 
 and he accepted his fate with perfect resignation, lying 
 down upon his bed of straw without a sign of opposition, 
 save for one imploring look out of his intelligent eyes as I 
 turned away and left him. 
 
 On making my adieus to Nina, I firmly refused Ferrari's 
 offered companionship in the walk back to my hotel. 
 
 " I am fond of a solitary moonlight stroll," I said. " Per 
 mit me to have my own way in the matter." 
 
 After some friendly argument they yielded to my wishes. 
 I bade them both a civil " good-night," bending low over my 
 wife's hand and kissing it, coldly enough, God knows, and 
 yet the action was sufficient to make her flush and sparkle 
 with pleasure. Then I left them, Ferrari himself escorting 
 me to the villa gates, and watching me pass out on the open 
 road. As long as he stood there, I walked with a slow and 
 meditative pace toward the city, but the instant I heafd 
 the gate clang heavily as it closed, I hurried back with a 
 cautious and noiseless step. Avoiding the great entrance, 
 I slipped round to the western side of the grounds, where 
 there was a close thicket of laurel that extended almost up to 
 the veranda I had just left. Entering this and bending the 
 boughs softly aside as I pushed my way through, I gradually 
 reached a position from whence I could see the veranda 
 plainly, and also hear anything that passed. Guido was 
 sitting on the low chair I had just vacated, leaning his head 
 back against my wife's breast ; he had reached up one arm 
 §o that it encircled her neck, and drew her head down toward 
 
VENDETTA I I37 
 
 his. In this half embrace they rested absolutely silent foi 
 some moments. Suddenly Ferrari spoke : 
 
 " You are very cruel, Nina ! You actually made me think 
 you admired that rich old conte." 
 
 She laughed. " So I do ! He would be really handsome 
 if he did not wear those ugly spectacles. And his jewels are 
 lovely. I wish he would give me some more ! " 
 
 " And supposing he were to do so, would you care for him, 
 Nina ? " he demanded, jealously. " Surely not. Besides, 
 you have no idea how conceited he is. He says he will never 
 make love to a woman unless she first makes love to him ; 
 what do you think of that ? " 
 
 She laughed again, more merrily than before. 
 
 " Think ! Why, that he is very original — charmingly so ! 
 Are you coming in, Guido ? " 
 
 He rose, and standing erect, almost lifted her from her 
 chair and folded her in his arms. 
 
 " Yes, I am coming in," he answered ; " and I will have a 
 hundred kisses for every look and smile you bestowed on the 
 conte ! You little coquette I You would flirt with your 
 grandfather 1 " 
 
 She rested against him with apparent tenderness, one hand 
 playing with the flower in his buttonhole, and then she said, 
 with a slight accent of fear in her voice — 
 
 " Tell me, Guido, do you not think he is a little like— -like 
 Fdbio ? Is there not a something in his manner that seems 
 familiar ? " 
 
 " I confess I have fancied so once or twice," he returned, 
 musingly ; " there is rather a disagreeable resemblance. But 
 what of that ? many men are almost counterparts of each 
 other. But I tell you what I think. I am almost positive he 
 is some long-lost relation of the family — Fabio's uncle for all 
 we know, who does not wish to declare his actual relation 
 ship. He is a good old fellow enough, I believe, and is cei 
 tainly rich as Croesus ; he will be a valuable friend to us both. 
 Come, sposina mia, it is time to go to rest." 
 
 And they disappeared within the house, and shut the win- 
 dows after them. I immediately left my hiding-place, and 
 resumed my way toward Naples. I was satisfied they had no 
 suspicion of the truth. After all, it was absurd of me to fancy 
 they might have, for people in general do not imagine it 
 possible for a buried man to come back to life again. The 
 game was in my own hands, and I now resolved to play it out 
 with as little delay as possible. 
 
138 VENDETTA t 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Time flew swiftly on — a month, six weeks, passed, and dur 
 ing that short space I had established myself in Naples as a 
 great personage — great, because of my wealth and the style in 
 which I lived. No one in all the numerous families of dis< 
 tinction that eagerly sought my acquaintance cared whether I 
 had intellect or intrinsic personal worth ; it sufficed to them 
 that I kept a carriage and pair, an elegant and costly equi- 
 page, softly lined with satin and drawn by two Arabian mares 
 as black as polished ebony. The value of my friendship was 
 measured by the luxuriousness of my box at the opera, and 
 by the dainty fittings of my yacht, a swift trim vessel furnished 
 with every luxury, and having on boar a band of stringed 
 instruments which discoursed sweet music when the moon 
 emptied her horn of silver radiance on the rippling water. Id 
 a little while I knew everybody who was worth knowing in 
 Naples ; everywhere my name was talked of, my doings were 
 chronicled in the fashionable newspapers ; stories of my lavish 
 generosity were repeated from mouth to mouth, and the most 
 highly colored reports of my immense revenues were whis- 
 pered with a kind of breathless awe at every cafe and street 
 corner. Tradesmen waylaid my reticent valet, Vincenzo, and 
 gave him douceurs in the hope he would obtain my custom 
 for them — " tips " which he pocketed in his usual reserved 
 and discreet manner, but which he was always honest enough 
 to tell me of afterward. He would most faithfully give me 
 the name and address of this or that particular tempter of his 
 fidelity, always adding — " As to whether the rascal sells good 
 things or bad our Lady only knows, but truly he gave me 
 thirty francs to secure your excellency's good-will. Though 
 for all that I would not recommend him if your excellency 
 knows of an honester man 1 " 
 
 Among other distinctions which my wealth forced upon me, 
 were the lavish attentions of match-making mothers. The 
 black spectacles which I always wore, were not repulsive to 
 these diplomatic dames — on the contrary, some of them as- 
 sured me they were most becoming, so anxious were they te 
 secure me as a son-in-law. Fair girls in their teens, blushing 
 and ingenuous, were artfully introduced to me — or, I should 
 say, thrust forward like slaves in a market for my inspection 
 »— though, to do them justice, they vrere remarkably shrewd 
 
VENDETTA t 139 
 
 and sharp-witted for their tender years. Young as they were, 
 they were keenly alive to the importance of making a good 
 match — and no doubt the pretty innocents laid many dainty 
 schemes in their own minds for liberty and enjoyment when 
 one or the other of them should become the Countess Oliva 
 and fooi the old black-spectacled husband to her heart's con- 
 tent. Needless to say their plans were not destined to be ful- 
 filled, though I rather enjoyed studying the many devices 
 they employed to fascinate me. What pretty ogling glances 
 JI received ! — what whispered admiration of my " beautiful 
 white hair ! so distingue /" — what tricks of manner, alternating 
 from grave to gay, from rippling mirth to witching languor ! 
 Many an evening I sat at ease on board my yacht, watching 
 with a satirical inward amusement, one, perhaps two or three 
 of these fair schemers ransacking their youthful brains for 
 new methods to entrap the old millionaire, as they thought 
 me, into the matrimonial net. I used to see their eyes — 
 sparkling with light in the sunshine — grow liquid and dreamy 
 in the mellow radiance of the October moon, and turn upon 
 me with a vague wistfulness most lovely to behold, and — most 
 admirably feigned ! I could lay my hand on a bare round 
 white arm and not be repulsed — I could hold little clinging 
 fingers in my own as long as I liked without giving offense — 
 such are some of the privileges of wealth ! 
 
 In all the parties of pleasure I formed, and these were 
 many — my wife and Ferrari were included as a matter of 
 course. At first Nina demurred, with some plaintive excuse 
 concerning her " recent terrible bereavement," but I easily 
 persuaded her out of this. I even told some ladies I knew 
 to visit her and add their entreaties to mine, as I said, with 
 the benignant air of an elderly man, that it was not good for 
 one so young to waste her time and injure her health by use- 
 less grieving. She saw the force of this, I must admit, with 
 admirable readiness, and speedily yielded to the united in- 
 vitations she received, though always with a well-acted re- 
 luctance, and saying that she did so merely " because the 
 Count Oliva was such an old friend of the family and knew 
 my poor dear husband as a child." 
 
 On Ferrari I heaped all manner of benefits. Certain debts 
 of his contracted at play I paid privately to surprise him — • 
 his gratitude was extreme. I humored him in many of his 
 small extravagances — I played with his follies as an angler 
 plays the fish at the end of his line, and I succeeded in win* 
 fling his confidence, Not that I ever could surprise him intQ 
 
140 VENDETTA* 
 
 a confession of his guilty amour — but he kept me well in» 
 formed as to what he was pleased to call " the progress of 
 his attachment," and supplied me with many small details 
 which, while they fired my blood and brain to wrath, steadied 
 me more surely in my plan of vengeance. Little did he 
 dream in whom he was trusting ! — little did he know into 
 whose hands he was playing ! Sometimes a kind of awful 
 astonishment would come ovei me as I listened to his trivial 
 talk, and heard him make plans for a future that was never 
 to be. He seemed so certain of his happiness — so absolutely 
 sure that nothing could or would intervene to mar it. Trai- 
 tor as he was he was unable to foresee punishment — materialist 
 to the heart's core, he had no knowledge of the divine law of 
 compensation. Now and then a dangerous impulse stirred 
 me — a desire to say to him point-blank : 
 
 " You are a condemned criminal — a doomed man on the 
 brink of the grave. Leave this light converse and frivolous 
 jesting — and, while there is time, prepare for death 1 " 
 
 But I bit my lips and kept stern silence. Often, too, I 
 felt disposed to seize him by the throat, and, declaring my 
 identity, accuse him of his treachery to his face, but I always 
 remembered and controlled myself. One point in his char- 
 acter I knew well — I had known it of old — this was his exces- 
 sive love of good wine. I aided and abetted him in this weak- 
 ness, and whenever he visited me I took care that he should 
 have his choice of the finest vintages. Often after a convivial 
 evening spent in my apartments with a few other young men 
 of his class and caliber, he reeled out of my presence, his 
 deeply flushed face and thick voice bearing plain testimony as 
 to his condition. On these occasions I used to consider with 
 a sort of fierce humor how Nina would receive him — for 
 though she saw no offense in the one kind of vice she herself 
 practiced, she had a particular horror of vulgarity in any 
 form, and drunkenness was one of those low failings she 
 specially abhorred. 
 
 " Go to your lady-love, mon beau Silenus ! " I would think, 
 as I watched him leaving my hotel with a couple of his boon 
 companions, staggering and laughing loudly as he went, or 
 singing the last questionable street-song of the Neapolitan 
 bas-peuple. " You are in a would-be riotous and savage mood 
 — her finer animal instincts will revolt from you, as a lithe 
 gazelle would fly from the hideous gambols of a rhinoceros. 
 She is already afraid of you — in a little while she will look 
 
VENDETTA!' 141 
 
 upon you with loathing anrl ^'sgust — tant pis pour vous, tant 
 mieux pour mot/" 
 
 I had of course attained tne position of ami intime a f the 
 Villa Romani. I was welcome there at any hour — I jould 
 examine and read my own books in my own library at leisure 
 (what a privilege was mine) ; I could saunter freely through the 
 beautiful gardens accompanied by Wyvis, who attended me 
 as a matter of course ; in short, the house was almost at my 
 disposal, though I never passed a night under its roof. I 
 carefully kept up my character as a prematurely elderly man, 
 slightly invalided by a long and ardous career in far-ofl 
 foreign lands, and I was particularly prudent in my behavior 
 toward my wife before Ferrari. Never did I permit the 
 least word or action on my part that could arouse his jealousy 
 or suspicion. I treated her with a sort of parental kindness 
 and reserve, but she — trust a woman for intrigue ! — she was 
 quick to perceive my reasons for so doing. Directly Ferrari's 
 back was turned she would look at me with a glance of co- 
 quettish intelligence, and smile — a little mocking, half-pet- 
 ulant smile — or she would utter some disparaging remark 
 about him, combining with it a covert compliment to me. 
 It was not for me to betray her secrets — I saw no occasion 
 to tell Ferrari that nearly every morning she sent her maid 
 to my hotel with fruit and flowers and inquiries after my 
 health — nor was my valet Vincenzo the man to say that he 
 carried gifts and similar messages from me to her. But at 
 the commencement of November things were so far advanced 
 that I was in the unusual position of being secretly courted 
 by my own wife ! — I reciprocating her attentions with equal 
 secrecy ! The fact of my being often in the company of other 
 ladies piqued her vanity — she knew that I was considered a 
 desirable parti — and — she resolved to win me. In this case 
 I also resolved — to be won ! A grim courtship truly — be- 
 tween a dead man and his own widow ! Ferrari never sus- 
 pected what was going on ; he had spoken of me as " that 
 poor fool Fabio, he was too easily duped ; yet never was there 
 one more " easily duped " than himself, or to whom the 
 epithet " poor fool " more thoroughly applied. As I said be- 
 fore, he was sure — too sure of his own good fortune. I wished 
 to excite his distrust and enmity sometimes, but this I found 
 I could not do. He trusted me — yes ! as much as in the 
 old days I had trusted him. Therefore, the catastrophe for 
 him must be sudden as well as fatal — perhaps, after all, it 
 was better so. 
 
i4S VkNDMTTAl 
 
 During my frequent visits to the villa I saw much of my 
 child Stella. She became passionately attached to me — poor 
 little thing ! — her love was a mere natural instinct, had she 
 but known it. Often, too, her nurse, Assunta, would bring 
 her to my hotel to pass an hour or so with me. This was 
 a great treat to her, and her delight reached its climax when 
 I took her on my knee and told her a fairy story — her favor 
 ite one being that of a good little girl whose papa suddenly 
 went away, and how the little girl grieved for him till at last 
 some kind fairies helped her to find him again, I was at 
 first somewhat afraid of old Assunta — she had been my nurse 
 —was it possible that she would not recognize me ? The 
 first time 1 met her in my new character I almost held my 
 breath in a sort of suspense — but the good old woman was 
 nearly blind, and I think she could scarce make out my 
 lineaments. She was of an entirely different nature to 
 Giacomo the butler — she thoroughly believed her master to 
 be dead, as indeed she had every reason to do, but strange 
 to say, Giacoma did not. The old man had a fanatical notion 
 that his " young lord " could not have died so suddenly, and 
 he grew so obstinate on the point that my wife declared he 
 must be going crazy. Assunta, on the other hand, would talk 
 volubly of my death and tell me with assured earnestness : 
 
 " It was to be expected, eccellenza — he was too good fof 
 us, and the saints took him. Of course our Lady wanted 
 him — she always picks out the best among us. The poor 
 Giacomo will not listen to me, he grows weak and childish, 
 and he loved the master too well — better," and here her 
 voice would deepen into reproachful solemnity, " yes, better 
 actually than St. Joseph himself ! And of course one is 
 punished for such a thing. I always knew my master would 
 die young — he was too gentle as a baby, and too kind-hearted 
 as a man to stay here long." 
 
 And she would shake her gray head and feel for the beadi; 
 of her rosary, and mutter many an Ave for the repose of 
 my soul. Much as I wished it, I could never get her to talk 
 about her mistress — it was the one subject on which she was 
 invariably silent. On one occasion when I spoke with ap- 
 parent enthusiasm of the beauty and accomplishments of the 
 young countess, she glanced at me with sudden and earnest 
 scrutiny — sighed — but said nothing. I was glad to see how 
 thoroughly devoted she was to Stella, and the child returned 
 her affection with interest — though as the November days 
 came on apace, my little one looked far from strong. She 
 
VENDETTA! 
 
 43 
 
 paled and grew thin, her eyes looked preternaturally large 
 and solemn, and she was very easily wearied. I called As- 
 sunta's attention to these signs of ill-health ; she replied that 
 she had spoken to the countess, but that " madam " had 
 taken no notice of the child's weakly condition. Afterward 
 I mentioned the matter myself to Nina, who merely smiled 
 gratefully up in my face and answered : 
 
 11 Really, my dear conte, you are too good ! There is noth- 
 ing the matter with Stella, her health is excellent; she eats 
 too many bombons, perhaps, and is growing rather fast, that 
 is all. How kind you are to think of her 1 But, I assure you, 
 she is quite well." 
 
 1 did not feel so sure of this, yet I was obliged to conceal 
 my anxiety, as overmuch concern about the child would not 
 have been in keeping with my assumed character. 
 
 It was a little past the middle of November, when a circum- 
 stance occurred that gave impetus to my plans, and hurried 
 them to full fruition. The days were growing chilly and sad 
 even in Naples — yachting excursions were over, and I was 
 beginning to organize a few dinners and balls for the approach- 
 ing winter season, when one afternoon Ferrari entered my 
 room unannounced and threw himself into the nearest chair 
 with an impatient exclamation, and a vexed expression of 
 countenance. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " I asked, carelessly, as I caught a 
 furtive glance of his eyes. " Anything financial ? Pray draw 
 uoon me ! I will be a most accommodating banker 1 " 
 
 He smiled uneasily though gratefully. 
 
 " Thanks, conte — but it is nothing of that sort — it is — gran 
 jDio ! what an unlucky wretch I am ! " 
 
 " I hope," and here I put on an expression of the deepest 
 anxiety, " I hope the pretty contessa has not played you 
 false ? she has refused to marry you ? " 
 
 He laughed with a disdainful triumph in his laughter. 
 
 " Oh, as far as that goes there is no danger I She dares 
 not play me false." 
 
 " Dares not ! That is rather a strong expression, my 
 friend ! " And I stroked my beard and looked at him 
 steadily. He himself seemed to think he had spoken too 
 openly and hastily — for he reddened as he said with a little 
 embarassment : 
 
 " Well, I did not mean that exactly — of course she is per- 
 fectly free to do as she likes — but she cannot, I think, refuse 
 me after showing me so much encouragement" 
 
144 VENDETTA f 
 
 I waved my hand with an airy gesture of amicable agree- 
 ment. 
 
 " Certainly not," I said, "unless she be an arrant coquette 
 and therefore a worthless woman , and you, who know so well 
 her intrinsic goodness and purity, have no reason to fear. 
 But, if not love or money, what is it that troubles you ? It 
 must be serious, to judge from your face." 
 
 He played absently with a ring I had given him, turning it 
 round and round upon his finger many times before replv- 
 ing. 
 
 "Well, the fact is," he said at last, " 1 am compelled to go 
 away — to leave Naples for a time." 
 
 My heart gave an expectant throb of satisfaction. Going 
 away ! — leaving Naples ! — turning away from the field of 
 battle and allowing me to gain the victory ! Fortune surely 
 favored me. But I answered with feigned concern : 
 
 " Going away ! Surely you cannot mean it. Why ? — what 
 for ? and where ? " 
 
 " An uncle of mine is dying in Rome," he answered, cross- 
 ly. " He has made me his heir, and I am bound for the sake 
 of decency to attend his last moments. Rather protracted last 
 moments they threaten to be too, but the lawyers say I had 
 better be present, as the old man may take it into his head 
 to disinherit me at the final gasp. I suppose I shall not be 
 absent long — a fortnight at most — and in the meanwhile " 
 
 Here he hesitated and looked at me anxiously. 
 
 " Continue, caro mio, continue ! " I said with some impa- 
 tience. " If I can do anything in your absence, you have 
 only to command me." 
 
 He rose from his chair, and approaching the window where 
 I sat in a half-reclining position, he drew a small chair oppo- 
 site mine, and sitting down, laid one hand confidingly on my 
 wrist. 
 
 " You can do much ! " he replied, earnestly, " and I feel 
 that I can thoroughly depend upon vou. Watch over her! 
 She will have no other protector, and she is so beautiful and 
 careless! You can guard her — your age, your rank and posi- 
 tion, the fact of your being an old friend of the family — all 
 these things^ ^arrant your censorship and vigilance over her, 
 and you can prevent any other man from intruding himself 
 upon her notice " 
 
 " If he does," I exclaimed, starting up from my seat with 
 a mock tragic air r " I will not rest till his body serves my swor A 
 4ts a sheath I " 
 
VENDETTA! 
 
 *45 
 
 And I laughed loudly, clapping him on the shoulder as I 
 spoke. The words were the very same he had himself uttered 
 when I had witnessed his interview with my wife in the 
 avenue. He seemed to find something familiar in the phrase, 
 for he looked confused and puzzled. Seeing this, I hastened 
 to turn the current of his reflections. Stopping abruptly 
 in my mirth, I assumed a serious gravity of demeanor, and 
 said : 
 
 " Nay, nay ! I see the subject is too sacred to be jested with 
 > — pardon my levity ! I assure you, my good Ferrari, I wil* 
 watch over the lady with the jealous scrutiny of a brother — an 
 elderly brother too, and therefore one more likely to be a model 
 of propriety. Though I frankly admit it is a task I am not 
 specially fitted for, and one that is rather distasteful to me, 
 still, I would do much to please you, and enable you to leave 
 Naples with an easy mind. I promise you " — here I took his 
 hand and shook it warmly — " that I will be worthy of your 
 trust and true to it, with exactly the same fine loyalty and 
 fidelity you yourself so nobly showed to your dead friend 
 Fabio ! History cannot furnish me with a better ex- 
 ample ! " 
 
 He started as if he had been stung, and every drop of 
 blood receded from his face, leaving it almost livid. He 
 turned his eyes in a kind of wondering doubt upon me, but 
 I counterfeited an air of such good faith and frankness, that 
 he checked some hasty utterance that rose to his lips, and 
 mastering himself by a strong effort, said, briefly : 
 
 " I thank you ! I know I can rely upon your honor." 
 
 " You can ! " I answered, decisively — " as positively as 
 you rely upon your own ! " Again he winced, as though 
 whipped smartly by an invisible lash. Releasing his hand, I 
 asked, in a tone of affected regret : 
 
 " And when must you leave us, carino ? " 
 
 " Most unhappily, at once," he answered. " I start by the 
 early train to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Well, I am glad I knew of this in time," I said, glancing 
 at my writing-table, which was strewn with unsent invitation 
 cards, and estimates from decorators and ball furnishers. " I 
 shall not think of starting any more gayeties till you return." 
 
 He looked gratefully at me. " Really ? It is very kind 
 of you, but I should be sorry to interfere with any of your 
 plans " 
 
 " Say no more about it, amico" I interrupted him lightly. 
 " Everything can wait till you come back. Besides, I am 
 IQ 
 
<4 6 VEtfDETTAt 
 
 sure you will prefer to think of madama as living in soma 
 sort of seclusion during your enforced absence " 
 
 " I should not like her to be dull ! " he eagerly exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " I said, with a slight smile at his folly, as if she 
 —Nina ! — would permit herself to be dull ! " I will take 
 care of that. Little distractions, such as a drive now and 
 then, or a very quiet, select musical evening S I understand 
 — leave it all to me ! But the dances, dinners, and other 
 diversions shall wait till your return." 
 
 A delighted look flashed into his eyes. He was greatly 
 flattered and pleased. 
 
 " You are uncommonly good to me, conte ! " he said, ear- 
 nestly. " I can never thank you sufficiently." 
 
 " I shall demand a proof of your gratitude some day," I 
 answered. " And now, had you not better be packing your 
 portmanteau ? To-morrow will soon be here. I will come 
 and see you off in the morning." 
 
 Receiving this assurance as another testimony of my friend* 
 ship, he left me. I saw him no more that day ; it was easy 
 to guess where he was ! With my wife, of course ! — no doubt 
 binding her, by all the most sacred vows he could think of 
 or invent, to be true to him — as true as she had been false 
 to me. In fancy I could see him clasping her in his arms, 
 and kissing her many times in his passionate fervor, implor- 
 ing her to think of him faithfully, night and day, till he 
 should again return to the joy of her caresses ! I smiled 
 coldly, as this glowing picture came before my imagination. 
 Ay, Guido ! kiss her and fondle her now to your heart's con- 
 tent — it is for the last time / Never again will that witching 
 glance be turned to you in either fear or favor — never again 
 will that fair body nestle in your jealous embrace — never 
 again will your kisses burn on that curved sweet mouth ; 
 never, never again I Your day is done — the last brief mo- 
 ments of your sin's enjoyment have come — make the most of 
 chem ! — no one shall interfere I Drink the last drop of sweet 
 wine — my hand shall not dash the cup from your lips on this, 
 the final night of your amour 1 Traitor, liar, and hypocrite ! 
 make haste to be happy for the short time that yet remains 
 to you — shut the door close, lest the pure pale stars behold 
 your love ecstasies ! but let the perfumed lamps shed their 
 softest artificial luster on all that radiant beauty which 
 tempted your sensual soul to ruin, and of which you are now 
 permitted to take your last look ! Let there be music too— 
 tjae music of her voice, which murmurs in your ear such err 
 
VENDETTA i 147 
 
 trancing falsehoods ! " She will be true," she says. Yov 
 must believe her, Guido, as I did — and, believing her thus 
 part from her as lingeringly and tenderly as you will — pan 
 from her — forever / 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Next morning I kept my appointment and met Ferrari at 
 the railway station. He looked pale and haggard, though he 
 brightened a little on seeing me. He was curiously irritable 
 and fussy with the porters concerning his luggage, and 
 argued with them about some petty trifles as obstinately and 
 pertinaciously as a deaf old woman. His nerves were evi- 
 dently jarred and unstrung, and it was a relief when he at 
 last got into his coupe'. He carried a yellow paper-covered 
 volume in his hand. I asked him if it contained any amus- 
 ing reading. 
 
 " I really do not know," he answered, indifferently, " I 
 have only just bought it. It is by Victor Hugo." 
 
 And he held up the title-page for me to see. 
 
 "Le Dernier Jour d'un Condamne'," I read aloud with 
 careful slowness. " Ah, indeed ! You do well to read that. 
 It is a very fine study ! " 
 
 The train was on the point of starting, when he leaned out 
 of the carriage window and beckoned me to approach more 
 closely. 
 
 " Remember I " he whispered, " I trust you to take care of 
 her ! " 
 
 " Never fear 1 " I answered, " I will do my best to replace 
 you/ 99 
 
 He smiled a pale uneasy smile, and pressed my hand. 
 These were our last words, for with a warning shriek the 
 train moved off, and in another minute had rushed out of 
 sight. I was alone — alone with perfect freedom of action — 
 I could do as I pleased with my wife now ! I could even 
 kill her if I chose — no one would interfere. I could visit 
 her that evening and declare myself to her — could accuse 
 her of her infidelity and stab her to the heart ! Any Italian 
 jury would find " extenuating circumstances " for me. But 
 why ? Why should I lay myself open to a charge of murder, 
 even for a just cause ? No ! my original design was perfect, 
 and I must keep to it and work it out with patience, though 
 patience was difficult. While I thus meditated, walking from 
 
148 VENDETTA I 
 
 the station homeward, I was startled by the unexpected ap- 
 pearance of my valet, who came upon me quite suddenly. 
 He was out of breath with running, and he carried a note 
 for me marked * Immediate" It was from my wife, and ran 
 briefly thus : 
 
 ■ Please come at once. Stella is very ill, a?id asks for you? 
 
 "Who brought this?" I demanded, quickening my pace, 
 and signing to Vincenzo to keep beside me. 
 
 "The old man, eccellenza — Giacomo. He was weeping 
 and in great trouble — he said the little donzella had the 
 fever in her throat — it is the diphtheria he means, I think. 
 She was taken ill in the middle of the night, but the nurse 
 thought it was nothing serious. This morning she has been 
 getting worse, and is in danger." 
 
 " A doctor has been sent for, of course ? " 
 
 " Yes, eccellenza. So Giacomo said. But — — * 
 
 " But what ? " I asked, quickly. 
 
 " Nothing, eccellenza I Only the old man said the doctor 
 had come too late." 
 
 My heart sunk heavily, and a sob rose in my throat. 1 
 stopped in my rapid walk and bade Vincenzo call a carriage, 
 one of the ordinary vehicles that are everywhere standing 
 about for hire in the principal thoroughfares of Naples. J 
 sprung into this and told the driver to take me as quickly as 
 possible to the Villa Romani, and adding to Vincenzo that I 
 should not return to the hotel all day, I was soon rattling 
 along the uphill road. On my arrival at the villa I found the 
 gates open, as though in expectation of my visit, and as I 
 approached the entrance door of the house, Giacomo himself 
 met me. 
 
 " How is the child ? " I asked him eagerly. 
 
 He made no reply, but shook his head gravely, and pointed 
 to a kindly looking man who was at that moment descend- 
 ing the stairs — a man whom I instantly recognized as a 
 celebrated English doctor resident in the neighborhood. To 
 him I repeated my inquiry — he beckoned me into a side 
 room and closed the door. 
 
 " The fact is," he said, simply, " it is a case of gross neg- 
 lect. The child has evidently been in a weakly condition 
 for some time past, and therefore is an easy prey to any 
 disease that maybe lurking about. She was naturally strong 
 — I can see that — and had I been called in when the symp- 
 toms first developed themselves. I could have* cured hex. 
 
VENDETTA 
 
 U9 
 
 Vhe nurse tells me she dared not enter the mother's room 
 to disturb her after midnight, otherwise she would have 
 called her to see the child — it is unfortunate, for now I can 
 do nothing." 
 
 I listened like one in a dream. Not even old Assunta 
 dared to enter her mistress's room after midnight — no ! not 
 though the child might be seriously ill and suffering. I 
 Icnew the reason well — too well ! And so while Ferrari had 
 taken his fill of rapturous embraces and lingering farewells 
 my little one had been allowed to struggle in pain and fever 
 without her mother's care or comfort. Not that such con- 
 solation would have been much at its best, but I was fool 
 enough to wish there had been this one faint spark of 
 womanhood left in her upon whom I had wasted all the first 
 and only love of my life. The doctor watched me as I re- 
 mained silent, and after a pause he spoke again. 
 
 " The child has earnestly asked to see you," he said, " and 
 I persuaded the countess to send for you, though she was 
 very reluctant to do so, as she said you might catch the 
 disease. Of course there is always a risk " 
 
 " I am no coward, monsieur," I interrupted him, " though 
 many of us Italians prove but miserable panic-stricken 
 wretches in time of plague — the more especially when com- 
 pared with the intrepidity and pluck of Englishmen. Still 
 there are exceptions " 
 
 The doctor smiled courteously and bowed. "Then I have 
 no more to say, except that it would be well for you to see my 
 little patient at once. I am compelled to be absent for half 
 an hour, but at the expiration of that time I will return." 
 
 " Stay ! " I said, laying a detaining hand on his arm. " Is 
 there any hope ? " 
 
 He eyed me gravely. " I fear not." 
 
 " Can nothing be done ? " 
 
 M Nothing — except to keep her as quiet and warm as possi- 
 ble. I have left some medicine with the nurse which will 
 alleviate the pain. I shall be able to judge of her better 
 when I return ; the illness will have then reached its crisis." 
 In a couple of minutes more he had left the house, and a 
 young maid-servant showed me to the nursery. 
 
 " Where is the contessa ? " I asked in a whisper, as I 
 trod softly up the stairs. 
 
 " The contessa ? " said the girl, opening her eyes in aston- 
 ishment. " In her own bedroom, eccellenza — madama would 
 not tfelnk of leaving it ; because of the danger of infection-" 
 
>5<> VENDETTA I 
 
 I smothered a rough oath that rose involuntarily to my 
 tips. Another proof of the woman's utter heartlessness, I 
 ihought ! 
 
 " Has she not seen her child ? " 
 
 " Since the illness ? Oh, no, eccellenza !* 
 
 Very gently and on tiptoe I entered the nursery. The 
 blinds were partially drawn as the strong light worried the 
 child, and by the little white bed sat Assunta, her brown 
 face pale and almost rigid with anxiety. At my approach 
 she raised her eyes to mine, muttering softi/r 
 
 " It is always so. Our Lady will have the best of all, first 
 the father, then the child ; it is right and just — only the bad 
 are left." 
 
 " Papa 1 " moaned a little voice feebly, and Stella sat 
 up among her tumbled pillows, with wide-opened wild eyes, 
 feverish cheeks, and parted lips through which the breath 
 came in quick, uneasy gasps. Shocked at the marks of 
 intense suffering in her face, I put my arms tenderly round 
 her — she smiled faintly and tried to kiss me. I pressed the 
 poor parched little mouth and murmured, soothingly : 
 
 " Stella must be patient and quiet — Stella must lie down, 
 the pain will be better so ; there ! that is right ! " as the 
 child sunk back on her bed obediently, still keeping her 
 gaze fixed upon me. I knelt at the bedside, and watched 
 her yearningly — while Assunta moistened her lips, and did 
 all she could to ease the pain endured so meekly by the 
 poor little thing whose breathing grew quicker and fainter 
 with every tick of the clock. " You are my papa, are you 
 not ? " she asked, a deeper flush crossing her forehead and 
 cheeks. I made no answer — I only kissed the small hot 
 hand I held. Assunta shook her head. 
 
 " Ah, poveri?ietta / The time is near — she sees her father. 
 And why not ? He loved her well — he would come to fetch 
 ?ier tor certain if the saints would let him." 
 
 And she fell on her knees and began to tell over her 
 rosary with great devotion. Meanwhile Stella threw one 
 little arm round my neck — her eyes were half shut — she 
 spoke and breathed with increasing difficulty. 
 
 " My throat aches so, papa 1 " she said, pitifully. " Can 
 you not make it better ? " 
 
 " I wish I could, my darling ! " I murmured. " I would 
 bear all the pain for you if it were possible ! " 
 
 She was silent a minute. Then she said J 
 
 J* What a long time you hayg been away 1 And OQW J am 
 
VENDETTA r 151 
 
 too ill to play with you ! " Then a faint smile crossed hei 
 features. " See poor To-to ! " she exclaimed, feebly, as her 
 eyes fell on a battered old doll in the spangled dress of a 
 carnival clown that lay at the foot of her bed. " Poor deai 
 old To-to ! He will think I do not love him any more, 
 because my throat hurts me. Give him to me, papa ! " 
 
 And as I obeyed her request she encircled the doll with 
 one arm, while she still clung to me with the other, and 
 added : 
 
 " To-to remembers you, papa ; you know you brought him 
 from Rome, and he is fond of you, too — but not as fond as I 
 am ! " And her dark eyes glittered feverishly. Suddenly 
 her glance fell on Assunta, whose gray head was buried in 
 her hands as she knelt. 
 
 " Assunta ! " 
 
 The old woman looked up. 
 
 " Bambinetta ! " she answered, and her aged voice trembled. 
 
 " Why are you crying ? " inquired Stella with an air of 
 plaintive surprise. " Are you not glad to see papa?" 
 
 Her words were interrupted by a sharp spasm of pain 
 which convulsed her whole body — she gasped for breath — 
 she was nearly suffocated. Assunta and I raised her up 
 gently and supported her against her pillows ; the agony 
 passed slowly, but left her little face white and rigid, while 
 large drops of sweat gathered on her brow. I endeavored 
 to soothe her. 
 
 " Darling, you must not talk," I whispered, imploringly; "try 
 to be very still — then the poor throat will not ache so much." 
 
 She looked at me wistfully. After a minute or two she 
 said, gently : 
 
 11 Kiss me, then, and I will be quite good." 
 
 I kissed her fondly, and she closed her eyes. Ten, twenty, 
 thirty minutes passed and she did not stir. At the end of 
 that time the doctor entered. He glanced at her, gave me a 
 warning look, and remained standing quietly at the foot of 
 the bed. Suddenly the child woke, and smiled divinely on 
 all three of us. 
 
 " Are you in pain, my dear ? " I softly asked. 
 
 " No ! " she answered in a tiny voice, so faint and far 
 away that we held our breath to listen to it ; "I am quite 
 well now. Assunta must dress me in my white frock again 
 now papa is here. I knew he would come back ! " 
 
 And she turned her eyes upon me with a look of bright 
 intelligence. 
 
1 52 VENDETTA t 
 
 " Her brain wanders," said the doctor, in a low, pitying 
 voice ; " it will soon be over." 
 
 Stella did not hear him; she turned and nestled in my 
 arms, asking in a sort of babbling whisper : 
 
 " You did not go away because I was naughty, did you, 
 oapa ? " 
 
 " No darling ! " I answered, hiding my face in her curls. 
 
 'Why do you have those ugly black things on?" she 
 asked, in the feeblest and most plaintive tone imaginable, sq 
 weak that I myself could scarcely hear it ; " has somebody 
 hurt your eyes ? Let me see your eyes ! " I hesitated. 
 Dare I humor her in her fancy ? I glanced up. The doctor's 
 head again was turned away, Assunta was on her knees, her 
 face buried in the bed-clothes, praying to her saints *, quick 
 as thought I slipped my spectacles slightly down, and looked 
 over them full at my little one. She uttered a soft cry of 
 delight — " Papa ! papa ! " and stretched out her arms, then 
 a strong and terrible shudder shook her little frame. The 
 doctor came closer — I replaced my glasses without my action 
 being noticed, and we both bent anxiously over the suffering 
 child. Her face paled and grew livid — she made another 
 effort to speak — her beautiful eyes rolled upward and became 
 fixed — she sighed — and sunk back on my shoulder — dying — 
 dead ! My poor little one I A hard sob stifled itself in my 
 throat — I clasped the small lifeless body close in my embrace, 
 and my tears fell hot and fast. There was a long silence in 
 the room — a deep, an awe-struck, reverent silence, while the 
 Angel of Death, noiselessly entering and departing, gathered 
 my little white rose for his Immortal garden of flowers. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIt 
 
 After some little time the doctors genial voice, slighth 
 tremulous from kindly emotion, roused me from my grief- 
 stricken attitude. 
 
 ," Monsieur, permit me to persuade you to come away. 
 Poor little child ! she is free from pain now. Her fancy that 
 Y^u were her father was a fortunate delusion for her. It 
 iViade her last moments happy. Pray come with me — I cao 
 see this has been a shock to your feelings." 
 
 Reverently I laid the fragile corpse back on the yet warm 
 pillows. With a fond touch I stroked the flaxen head ; 1 
 
VENDETTA ! 153 
 
 *'osed the dark, upturned, and glazing eyes — I kissed the 
 waxen cheeks and lips, and folded the tiny hands in an atti- 
 tude of prayer. There was a grave smile on the young dead 
 face — a smile of superior wisdom and sweetness, majestic 
 in its simplicity. Assunta rose from her knees and laid her 
 crucifix on the little breast — the tears were running down her 
 worn and withered countenance. As she strove to wipe them 
 *way with her apron, she said tremblingly : — 
 
 " It must be told to madama." A frown came on the doc- 
 tor's face. He was evidently a true Britisher, decisive in his 
 opinions, and frank enough to declare them openly. " Yes," 
 he said, curtly, " Madama, as you call her, should have been 
 here." 
 
 " The little angel did not once ask for her," murmured 
 Assunta, 
 
 " True ! " he answered, And again there was silence. 
 We stood round the small bed, looking at the empty casket 
 that had held the lost jewel — the flawless pearl of innocent 
 childhood that had gone, according to a graceful superstition, 
 to ornament the iwsral robes of the Madonna as she walked 
 in all her majesty through heaven. A profound grief was at 
 my heart — mingled with a sense of mysterious and awful 
 satisfaction. I felt, not as though I had lost my child, but 
 had rather gained her to be more entirely mine than ever. 
 She seemed nearer to me dead than she had been when liv- 
 ing. Who could say what her future might have been ? She 
 would have grown to womanhood — what then ? What is the 
 usual fate that falls to even the best woman ? Sorrow, pain, 
 and petty worry, unsatisfied longings, incompleted aims, the 
 disappointment of an imperfect and fettered life — for say 
 what you will to the contrary, woman's inferiority to man, her 
 physical weakness, her inability to accomplish any great thing 
 for the welfare of the world in which she lives, will always 
 make her more or less an object of pity. If good, she needs 
 all the tenderness, support, and chivalrous guidance of her 
 master, man — if bad, she merits what she receives, his pitiless 
 disdain and measureless contempt. From all dangers and 
 griefs of the kind my Stella had escaped — for her, sorrow n<r 
 longer existed. I was glad of it, I thought, as I watched 
 Assunta shutting the blinds close, as a signal to outsiders 
 that death was in the house. At a sign from the doctor I 
 followed him out of the room — on the stairs he turned round 
 abruptly, and asked : 
 
 a Will you tell the countess ? " 
 
154 VENDETTA I 
 
 " I would rather be excused," I replied, decisively, • I 
 am not at all in the humor for a scene." 
 
 " You think she will make a scene ? " he said with an 
 astonished uplifting of his eyebrows " I dare say you are 
 right though ! She is an excellent actress" 
 
 By this time we had reached the foot of the stairs. 
 
 " She is very beautiful," I answered evasively. 
 
 " Oh, very ! No doubt of that ! " And here a strange 
 frown contracted the doctor's brow. " For my own taste, 1 
 prefer an ugly woman to such beauty." 
 
 And with these words he left me, disappearing down the 
 passage which led to " madama's ' boudoir. Left alone, I 
 paced up and down the drawing-room, gazing abstractedly 
 on its costly fittings, its many luxurious knickknacks and 
 elegancies — most of which I had given to my wife during 
 the first few months of our marriage. By and by I heard 
 the sound of violent hysterica! sobbing, accompanied by the 
 noise of hurrying footsteps and the rapid whisking about of 
 female garments. In a few moments the doctor entered 
 with an expression of sardonic amusement on his face. 
 " Yes !" he said in reply to my look of inquiry, "hysterics, 
 lace handkerchiefs, eau-de-Cologne, and attempts at fainting. 
 All very well done ! I have assured the lady there is no 
 fear of contagion, as under my orders everything will be 
 thoroughly disinfected. I shall go now. Oh, by the way, 
 the countess requests that you will wait here a few minutes- 
 she has a message for you — she will not detain you long. I 
 should recommend you to get back to your hotel as soon as 
 you can, and take some good wine. A rivederci / Anything 
 I can do for you pray command me ! " 
 
 And with a cordial shake of the hand he left me, and I 
 heard the street door close behind him. Again I paced 
 wearily up and down, wrapped in sorrowful musings. I did 
 lot hear a stealthy tread on the carpet behind me, so that 
 >vhen I turned round abruptly, I was startled to find myself 
 face to face with old Giacomo, who held out a note to me on a 
 silver salver, and who meanwhile peered at me with his eager 
 eyes in so inquisitive a manner that I felt almost uneasy. 
 
 " And so the little angel is dead ! " he murmured in a thin, 
 quavering voice. " Dead ! Ay, that is a pity, a pity ! But 
 my master is not dead — no, no ! I am not such an old fool 
 as to believe that." 
 
 I paid no heed to his rambling talk, but read the message 
 Nina had sent to me through him. 
 
VENDETTA I 155 
 
 "1 am broken-hearted 7" so ran the delicately penciled 
 tines. " Will you kindly telegraph my dreadful loss to Signor 
 Ferrari ? I shall be much obliged to you." I looked up 
 from the perfumed missive and down at the old butler's 
 wrinkled visage ; he was a short man and much bent, and 
 something in the downward glance I gave him evidenth 
 caught and riveted his attention, for he clasped his hand? 
 together and muttered something I could not hear. 
 
 " Tell your mistress,' 7 I said, speaking slowly and harshly. 
 * that I will do as she wishes. That I am entirely at her 
 service. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! I understand ! " faltered Giacomo, nervously. 
 " My master never thought me foolish — I could always under- 
 stand him " 
 
 " Do you know, my friend," I observed, in a purposely 
 cold and cutting tone, " that I have heard somewhat too 
 much about your master ? The subject is tiresome to me ! 
 Were your master alive, he would say you were in your dotage ! 
 Take my message to the countess at once." 
 
 The old man's face paled and his lips quivered — he made 
 an attempt to draw up his shrunken figure with a sort of 
 dignity as he answered • 
 
 " Eccellenza, my master would never speak to me so — 
 never, never ! " Then his countenance fell, and he muttered, 
 softly — " Though it is just — I am a fool — I am mistaken — ■ 
 quite mistaken — there is no resemblance ! " After a little 
 pause he added, humbly, " I will take your message, eccel- 
 lenza." And stooping more than ever, he shambled out of 
 the room. My heart smote me as he disappeared ; I had 
 spoken very harshly to the poor old fellow — but I instinctively 
 felt that it was necessary to do so. His close and ceaseless 
 examination of me — his timidity when he approached me — 
 the strange tremors he experienced when I addressed hirr 
 were so many warnings to me to be on my guard with thi. 
 devoted domestic. Were he, by some unforeseen chance, 
 to recognize me, my plans would all be spoiled. I took my 
 hat and left the house. As I crossed the upper terrace, I 
 saw a small round object lying in the grass — it was Stella's 
 ball that she used to throw for Wyvis to catch and bring to 
 her. I picked up the poor plaything tenderly and put it in 
 my pocket — and glancing up once more at the darkened 
 nursery windows, I waved a kiss of farewell to my little one 
 lying there in her last sleep. Then fiercely controlling all 
 the weaker and softer emotions that threatened to overwhelm 
 
156 VENDETTA f 
 
 me, I hurried away. On my road to the hotel I stopped at 
 
 the telegraph-office and dispatched the news of Stella's death 
 to Guido Ferrari in Rome. He would be surprised, I thought, 
 but certainly not grieved — the poor child had always been 
 in his way. Would he come back to Naples to console the 
 now childless widow ? Not he ! — he would know well that 
 she stood in very small need of consolation — and that she 
 took Stella's death as she had taken mine — as a blessing, 
 and not a bereavement. On reaching my own rooms, I gave 
 orders to Vincenzo that I was not at home to any one who 
 might call — and I passed the rest of the day in absolute 
 solitude. I had much to think of. The last frail tie between 
 my wife and myself had been snapped asunder — the child, 
 the one innocent link in the long chain of falsehood and 
 deception, no longer existed, Was I glad or sorry for this ? 
 I asked myself the question a hundred times*, and I admitted 
 the truth, though I trembled to realize it. I was glad — yes 
 — glad I Glad that my own child was dead ! You call this 
 inhuman perhaps? Why? She was bound to have been 
 miserable * she was now happy ) 
 
 The tragedy of her parents' lives could be enacted without 
 imbittering and darkening her young days ; she was out of it 
 all, and I rejoiced to know it. For I was absolutely relent- 
 less ; had my little Stella lived, not even for her sake would 
 I have relaxed in one detail of my vengeance — nothing 
 seemed to me so paramount as the necessity for restoring 
 my own self-respect and damaged honor. In England I 
 know these things are managed by the Divorce Court. 
 Lawyers are paid exorbitant fees, and the names of the guilty 
 and innocent are dragged through the revolting slums of the 
 low London press. It may be an excellent method — but it 
 does not tend to elevate a man in his own eyes, and it cer- 
 tainly does not do much to restore his lost dignity. It has 
 one advantage — it enables the criminal parties to have theii 
 way without further interference — the wronged husband is 
 set free — left out in the cold — and laughed at by those who 
 wronged him. An admirable arrangement no doubt — but 
 one that would not suit me. Chacun a son gout! It would 
 be curious to know in matters of this kind whether divorced 
 persons are really satisfied when they have got their divorce 
 — whether the amount of red tape and parchment expended 
 in their interest has done them good and really relieved their 
 feelings. Whether, for instance, the betrayed husband is 
 glad to have got rid of his unfaithful wife by throwing her 
 
VENDETTA I 157 
 
 (with the full authority and permission of the law) into his 
 rival's arms ? I almost doubt it 1 I heard of a strange case 
 in England once. A man, moving in good society, having 
 more than suspicions of his wife's fidelity, divorced her — the 
 law pronounced her guilty. Some years afterward, he being 
 free, met her again, fell in love with her for the second time 
 and remarried her. She was (naturally !) delighted at his 
 making such a fool of himself — for henceforth, whatever she 
 chose to do, he could not reasonably complain without run- 
 ning the risk of being laughed at. So now the number and 
 variety of her lovers is notorious in the particular social 
 circle where she moves — while he, poor wretch, is perforce 
 tongue-tied, and dare not consider himself wronged. There 
 is no more pitiable object in the world than such a man- 
 secretly derided and jeered at by his fellows, he occupies 
 an almost worse position than that of a galley slave, while in 
 his own esteem he has sunk so low that he dare not, even in 
 secret, try to fathom the depth to which he has fallen. Some 
 may assert that to be divorced is a social stigma, It used to 
 be so perhaps, but society has grown very lenient nowadays 
 Divorced women hold their own in the best and most bril- 
 liant circles, and what is strange is that they are very gener- 
 ally petted and pitied, 
 
 " Poor thing I " says society, putting up its eyeglass to 
 scan admiringly the beautiful heroine of the latest aristocratic 
 scandal — " she had such a brute of a husband ! No wonder 
 she liked that dear Lord So-and-So ! Very wrong of her, of 
 course, but she is so young ! She was married at sixteen— 
 quite a child ! — could not have known her own mind 1 " 
 
 The husband alluded to might have been the best and 
 most chivalrous of men — anything but a " brute " — yet he 
 always figures as such somehow, and gets no sympathy. 
 And, by the way, it is rather a notable fact that all the 
 beautiful famous, or notorious women were " married at 
 tixteen." How is this managed ? I can account for it in 
 southern climates, where girls are full-grown at sixteen and 
 old at thirty — but I cannot understand its being the case in 
 England, where a " miss " of sixteen is a most objectionable 
 and awkward ingenue, without any of the " charms wherewith 
 to charm," and whose conversation is always vapid and 
 silly to the point of absolute exhaustion on the part of those 
 who are forced to listen to it. These sixteen-year-old mar- 
 riages are, however, the only explanation frisky English 
 matrons can give for having such alarmingly prolific families 
 
158 V NDETTA! 
 
 of tall sons and daughters, and it is a happy and convenient 
 excuse — one that provides a satisfactory reason for the exces- 
 sive painting of their faces and dyeing of their hair. Being 
 young (as they so nobly assert), they wish to look even 
 younger, A la bonne heure ! If men cannot see through 
 the delicate fiction, they have only themselves to blame. As 
 for me, I believe in the old, old, apparently foolish legend of 
 Adam and Eve's sin and the curse which followed it — the 
 curse on man is inevitably carried out to this day. God 
 said : 
 
 "Because" (mark that because!} u thou hast hearkened 
 unto the voice of thy wife " (or thy woman, whoever she be), 
 " and hast eaten of the tree of which I commanded thee, 
 saying, Thou shalt not eat of it " (the tree or fruit being the 
 evil suggested first to man by woman), " cursed is the ground 
 for thy sake ; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of 
 thy life!" 
 
 True enough I The curse is upon all who trust woman 
 too far — -the sorrow upon all who are beguiled by her witch- 
 ing flatteries. Of what avail her poor excuse in the ancient 
 story — " The serpent beguiled me and I did eat 1 " Had she 
 never listened she could not have been beguiled. Ths 
 weakness, the treachery, was in herself, and is there still 
 Through everything the bitterness of it runs. The woman 
 tempts— the man yields — and the gate of Eden — the Eden 
 of a clear conscience and an untrammeled soul, is shut upon 
 them, Forever and ever the Divine denunciation re-echoes 
 like muttering thunder through the clouds of passing gener- 
 ations; forever and ever we unconsciously carry it out in 
 our own lives to its full extent till the heart grows sick and 
 the brain weary, and we long for the end of it all, which is 
 death — death, that mysterious silence and darkness at which 
 #e sometimes shudder, wondering vaguely — Can it be wors^ 
 dian life ? 
 
 CHAFrER XIX. 
 
 More than ten days had passed since Stella's death. Her 
 mother had asked me to see to the arrangements for the 
 child's funeral, declaring herself too ill to attend to any- 
 thing. I was glad enough to accede to her request, for I was 
 thus able to avoid the Romani vault as a place of interment 
 I could not bear to think of the little cherished body being 
 
VENDETTA I 159 
 
 laid to molder in that terrific place where I had endured 
 such frantic horrors. Therefore, informing all whom it con- 
 cerned that I acted under the countess's orders, I chose a 
 pretty spot in the open ground of the cemetery, close to the 
 tree where I had heard the nightingale singing in my hour 
 of supreme misery and suffering. Here my little one was 
 laid tenderly to rest in warm mother-earth, and I had sweet 
 violets and primroses planted thickly all about the place, 
 while on the simple white marble cross that marked the spo t 
 I had the words engraved — 
 
 « Una Stella svanita," * 
 
 adding the names of her parents and the date of her birth 
 and death. Since all this had been done I had visited 
 my wife several times, She was always at home to me, 
 though of course, for decency's sake, in consequence of the 
 child's death, she denied herself to everybody else. She 
 looked lovelier than ever ; the air of delicate languor she as- 
 sumed suited her as perfectly as its fragile whiteness suits 
 a hot-house lily. She knew the power of her own beauty 
 most thoroughly, and employed it in arduous efforts to fasci- 
 nate me. But I had changed my tactics ; I paid very little 
 heed to her, and never went to see her unless she asked me 
 very pressingly to do so. All compliments and attentions 
 from me to her had ceased. She courted me, and I accepted 
 her courtship in unresponsive silence. I played the part of 
 a taciturn and reserved man, who preferred reading some 
 ancient and abstruse treatise on metaphysics to even the 
 charms of her society — and often, when she urgently desired 
 my company, I would sit in her drawing-room, turning over 
 the leaves of a book and feigning to be absorbed in it, while 
 she, from her velvet fauteuil, would look at me with a pretty 
 pensiveness made up half of respect, half of gentle admira- 
 tion — a capitally acted facial expression, by the bye, and 
 one that would do credit to Sarah Bernhardt. We had both 
 heard from Guido Ferrari ; his letter to my wife I of course 
 did not see ; she had, however, told me he was " much 
 shocked and distressed to hear of Stella's death." The 
 epistle he addressed to me had a different tale to tell. In it 
 he wrote — " You can understand, my dear conte, that I am 
 not much grieved to hear of the death of Fabio's child. Had 
 she lived, I confess her presence would have been a per* 
 pefual reminder to me of things I prefer to forget. She 
 
 * A vanished star. 
 
i6o VENDETTA t 
 
 never liked me — she might have been a great source of 
 trouble and inconvenience ; so, on the whole, I am glad she 
 is out of the way." 
 
 Further on in the letter he informed me : 
 
 " My uncle is at death's door, but though that door stands 
 wide open for him, he cannot make up his mind to go in. 
 His hesitation will not be allowed to last, so the doctors tell 
 me — at any rate I fervently hope I shall not be kept waiting 
 too long, otherwise I shall return to Naples and sacrifice my 
 heritage, for I am restless and unhappy away from Nina, 
 though I know she is safely guarded by your protecting care." 
 
 I read this particular paragraph to my wife, watching her 
 closely as I slowly enunciated the words contained in it 
 She listened, and a vivid blush crimsoned her cheeks — a 
 blush of indignation — and her brows contracted in the vexed 
 frown I knew so well. Her lips parted in a half-sweet, half- 
 chilly smile as she said, quietly : 
 
 " I owe you my thanks, conte, for showing me to what ex- 
 tent Signor Ferrari's impertinence may reach. I am sur 
 prised at his writing to you in such a manner I The fact is, 
 my ; ate husband's attachment for him was so extreme that he 
 now presumes upon a supposed right that he has over me— 
 he fancies I am really his sister, and that he can tyrannize, as 
 brothers sometimes do ! I really regret I have been so patient 
 with him — I have allowed him too much liberty." 
 
 True enough ! I thought and smiled bitterly. I was now 
 in the heat of the game — the moves must be played quickly 
 — there was no more time for hesitation or reflection. 
 
 " I think, madam," I said, deliberately, as I folded Guido's 
 letter and replaced it in my pocket-book, " Signor Ferrari 
 ardently aspires to be something more than a brother to you 
 at no very distant date." 
 
 Oh, the splendid hypocrisy of women ! No wonder they 
 make such excellent puppets on the theatrical stage — acting 
 Is their natural existence, sham their breath of life ! This 
 creature showed no sign of embarrassment— she raised her 
 eyes frankly to mine in apparent surprise— then she gave a 
 little low laugh of disdain. 
 
 " Indeed ! " she said, " Then I fear Signor Ferrari is 
 doomed to have his aspirations disappointed ! My dear 
 conte," and here she rose and swept softly across the room 
 toward me with that graceful gliding step that somehow 
 always reminded me of the approach of a panther, " do you 
 really mean to tell me that his audacity has reached such a 
 
VENDETTA t i6f 
 
 height that — really it is too absurd ! — that he hopes to marry 
 me ? " And sinking into a cnair near mine she looked at me 
 in calm inquiry. Lost in amazement at the duplicity of the 
 woman, I answered, briefly » 
 
 " I believe so ! He intimated as much to me," 
 
 She smiled scornfully. 
 
 * I am too much honored ! And did you, conte, think foi 
 a moment that such an arrangement would meet with my 
 approval ? " 
 
 I was silent. My brain was confused — I found it difficult 
 to meet with and confront such treachery as this. What \ 
 Had she no conscience ? Were all the passionate embraces, 
 the lingering kisses, the vows of fidelity, and words of caress- 
 ing endearment as naught ? Were they all blotted from her 
 memory as the writing on a slate is wiped out by a sponge ! 
 Almost I pitied Guido ! His fate, in her hands, was evi- 
 dently to be the same as mine had been ; yet after all, why 
 should I be surprised ? why should I pity ? Had I not cal 
 culated it all ? and was it not part of my vengeance ? 
 
 " Tell me ! " pursued my wife's dulcet voice, breaking in 
 upon my reflections, " did you really imagine Signor Ferrari's 
 suit might meet with favor at my hands ? n 
 
 I must speak — the comedy had to be played out So I 
 answered, bluntly : 
 
 M Madam, I certainly did think so. It seemed a natural 
 conclusion to draw from the course of events. He is young, 
 undeniably handsome, and on his uncle's death will be fairly 
 wealthy — what more could you desire r besides, he was your 
 husband's friend " 
 
 " And for that reason I would never marry him ! " she in- 
 terrupted me with a decided gesture. " Even if I liked him 
 sufficiently, which I do not" (oh, miserable traitress), " I 
 would not run the risk of what the world would say of such 
 a marriage." 
 
 " How, madam ? Pardon me if I fail to comprehend 
 you." 
 
 " Do you not see, conte ? " she went on in a coaxing voice, 
 as of one that begged to be believed, " if I were to marry one 
 that was known to have been my husband's most intimate 
 friend, society is so wicked — people would be sure to say 
 that there had been something between us before my hus- 
 band's death — I know they would, and I could not endure 
 such slander ! " 
 
 ■ f Mulder will out" they say ! Here was guilt partially de 
 
162 VENDETTA t 
 
 daring itself. A perfectly innocent woman could not foresee 
 so readily the condemnation of society. Not having the 
 knowledge of evil she would be unable to calculate the con- 
 sequences. The overprudish woman betrays herself ; the fine 
 lady who virtuously shudders at the sight of a nude statue or 
 picture, announces at once to all whom it may concern that 
 there is something far coarser in the suggestions of her own 
 mind than the work of art she condemns. Absolute purity 
 has no fear of social slander; it knows its own value, and 
 that it must conquer in the end. My wife — alas ! that I 
 should call her so — was innately vicious and false ; yet how 
 particular she was in her efforts to secure the blind world's 
 good opinion ! Poor old world ! how exquisitely it is fooled, 
 and how good-naturedly it accepts its fooling I But I had 
 to answer the fair liar, whose net of graceful deceptions was 
 now spread to entrap me , therefore I said with an effort of 
 courtesy : 
 
 " No one would dare to slander you, contessa, in my pres- 
 ence,''* She bowed and smiled prettily. " But," I went on, 
 " if it is true that you have no liking for Signor Ferrari " 
 
 " It is true ! " she exclaimed with sudden emphasis. " He 
 4s rough and ill-mannered ; I have seen him the worse for 
 wine \ sometimes he is insufferable ! I am afraid of him ! *' 
 
 I glanced at her quietly Her face had paled, and her 
 hands, which were busied with some silken embroidery, trem- 
 bled a little. 
 
 *' In that case," I continued, slowly, ** though I am sorry 
 for Ferrari, poor fellow I he will be immensely disappointed I 
 I confess I am glad in other respects, because ■ 
 
 "Because what? " she demanded, eagerly. 
 
 "Why," I answered, feigning a little embarrassment, "be- 
 cause there will be more chance for other men who may seek 
 to possess the hand of the accomplished and beautiful Con- 
 tessa Romani." 
 
 She shook her fair head slightly, A transient expression 
 of disappointment passed over her features. 
 
 * The ' other men' you speak of, conte, are not likely to 
 indulge in such an ambition," she said, with a faint sigh ; 
 " more especially," and her eyes flashed indignantly. " since 
 Signor Ferrari thinks it his duty to mount guard over me. I 
 suppose he wishes to keep me for himself — a most imperti- 
 nent and foolish notion 1 There is only one thing to 
 I shall leave Naples before he returns." 
 
 "Why?" I asked 
 
VENDETTA I 163 
 
 She flushed deeply. " I wish to avoid him," she said, vter 
 a little pause ; " I tell you frankly, he has lately given me 
 much cause for annoyance. I will not be persecuted by bis 
 attentions ; and as I before said to you, I am often afraid of 
 him. Under your protection I know I am quite safe, but I 
 cannot always enjoy that " 
 
 The moment had come. I advanced a step or two. 
 
 " Why not ? " I said. " It rests entirely with yourself." 
 
 She started and half rose from her chair — her work 
 dropped from her hands. 
 
 " What do you mean, conte ? " she faltered, half timidly, 
 yet anxiously ; " I do not understand ! " 
 
 " I mean what I say," I continued in cool hard tones, and 
 stooping, I picked up her work and restored it to her ; " but 
 pray do not excite yourself ! You say you cannot always 
 enjoy my protection ; it seems to me that you can — by be- 
 coming my wife." 
 
 " Conte ! " she stammered. I held up my hand as a sign 
 to her to be silent. 
 
 " I am perfectly aware," I went on in business-like accents 
 — " of the disparity in years that exists between us. I have 
 neither youth, health, or good looks to recommend me to you 
 Trouble and bitter disappointment have made me what I am. 
 But I have wealth which is almost inexhaustible — I have 
 position and influence — and beside these things " — and here 
 I looked at her steadily, " I have an ardent desire to do 
 justice to your admirable qualities, and to give you all you 
 deserve. If you think you could be happy with me, speak 
 frankly — I cannot offer you the passionate adoration of a 
 young man — my blood is cold and my pulse is slow — but 
 what I can do, I will ! " 
 
 Having spoken thus, I was silent — gazing at her intently. 
 She paled and flushed alternately, and seemed for a moment 
 lost in thought — then a sudden smile of triumph curved her 
 mouth — she raised her large lovely eyes to mine, with a look 
 of melting and wistful tenderness. She laid her needle-work 
 gently down, and came close up to me — her fragrant breath 
 fell warm on my cheek — her strange gaze fascinated me, and 
 a sort of tremor shook my nerves. 
 
 "You mean," she said, with a tender pathos in her voice 
 — " that you are willing to m^cv me, but that you do not 
 really love me ? " 
 
 And almost appealingly she laid her white hand on my 
 shoulder — her musical accents were low and thrilling — she 
 
164 VENDETTA t x 
 
 sighed faintly. I was silent — battling violently with the fool- 
 ish desire that had sprung up within me, the desire to draw 
 this witching fragile thing to my heart, to cover her lips with 
 kisses — to startle her with the passion of my embraces ! But 
 I forced the mad impulse down and stood mute. She 
 watched me — slowly she lifted her hand from where it had 
 rested, and passed it with a caressing touch through my hair. 
 
 " No — you do not really love me," she whispered — " but I 
 arill tell you the truth — I love you! 
 
 " And she drew herself up to her full height and smiled 
 again as she uttered the lie. I knew it was a lie — but I 
 seized the hand whose caresses stung me, and held it hard, 
 as I answered : 
 
 " You love me ? No, no — I cannot believe it — it is impos- 
 sible ! " 
 
 She laughed softly. " It is true though," she said, em- 
 phatically, " the very first time I saw you I knew I should 
 love you I I never even liked my husband, and though in 
 some things you resemble him, you are quite different in others 
 — and superior to him in every way. Believe it or not as you 
 like, you are the only man in all the world I have ever loved f" 
 
 And she made the assertion unblushingly, with an air of 
 conscious pride and virtue. Half stupefied at her manner, 
 I asked : 
 
 " Then you will be my wife ? " 
 
 " I will 1 " she answered — " and tell me — your name is 
 Cesare, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes," I said, mechanically. 
 
 " Then, Cesare" she murmured, tenderly, " I will make you 
 love me very much ! " 
 
 And with a quick lithe movement of her supple figure, she 
 nestled softly against me, and turned up her radiant glowing 
 face. 
 
 " Kiss me ! " she said, and waited. As one in a whirling 
 dream, I stooped and kissed those false sweet lips ! I would 
 have more readily placed my mouth upon that of a poison- 
 ous serpent ! Yet that kiss roused a sort of fury in me. I 
 slipped my arms round her half-reclining figure, drew fed 
 gently backward to the couch she had left, and sat down b» 
 side her, still embracing her. " You really love me ? " I astel 
 almost fiercely. 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " And I am the first man whom you have real! v cared fmi * 
 
 "You arei" 
 
VENDETTA* Ifif 
 
 * You never liked Ferrari ? " 
 
 " Never I " 
 
 " Did he ever kiss you as I have done ? ** 
 
 " Not once I " 
 
 God ! how the lies poured forth ! a very cascade of them ! 
 and they were all told with such an air of truth 1 I marveled 
 at the ease and rapidity with which they glided off this fair 
 woman's tongue, feeling somewhat the same sense of stupid 
 astonishment a rustic exhibits when he sees for the first time 
 a conjurer drawing yards and yards of many-colored ribbon 
 out of his mouth. I took up the little hand on which the 
 wedding-ring /had placed there was still worn, and quietly 
 slipped upon the slim finger a circlet of magnificent rose- 
 brilliants. I had long carried this trinket about with me in 
 expectation of the moment that had now come. She started 
 from my arms with an exclamation of delight. 
 
 " Oh, Cesare ! how lovely 1 How good you are to me ! " 
 
 And leaning toward me, she kissed me, then resting against 
 my shoulder, she held up her hand to admire the flash of the 
 diamonds in the light. Suddenly she said, with some anxiety 
 in her tone : 
 
 " You will not tell Guido ? not yet ? " 
 
 " No,'* I answered ; " I certainly will not tell him till he 
 returns. Otherwise he would leave Rome at once, and we 
 do not want him back just immediately, do we ? " And I 
 toyed with her rippling gold tresses half mechanically, while 
 I wondered within myself at the rapid success of my 
 scheme. She, in the meantime grew pensive and abstracted, 
 and for a few moments we were both silent. If she had 
 known ! I thought, if she could have imagined that she was 
 encircled by the arm of her own husbard, the man whom she 
 had duped and wronged, the poor fool she had mocked at 
 and despised, whose life had been an obstruction in her path, 
 whose death she had been glad of 1 Would she have smiled 
 so sweetly ? Would she have kissed me then 1 
 
 * # * * * * * 
 
 She remained leaning against me in a resposeful attitude 
 for some moments, ever and anon turning the ring I had 
 given her round and round upon her finger. By and by she 
 looked up. 
 
 " Will you do me one favor ? " she asked, coaxingly ; " such 
 a little thing — a trifle I but it would give me such pleasure I " 
 
 " What is it ? " I asked ; " it is you to command and I 
 toobeyi" 
 
166 VENDETTA t 
 
 " Well, to take off those dark glasses just for a minute ! I 
 want to see your eyes." 
 
 I rose from the sofa quickly, and answered her with some 
 coldness. 
 
 •' Ask anything you like but that, mia bella. The least 
 light on my eyes gives me the most acute pain — pain that irri- 
 tates my nerves for hours afterward. Be satisfied with me 
 as I am for the present, though I promise you your wish shall 
 be gratified " 
 
 " When ? " she interrupted me eagerly. I stooped and 
 kissed her hand. 
 
 " On the evening of our marriage day," I answered. 
 
 She blushed and turned away her head coquettishly. 
 
 " Ah ! that is so long to wait ! " she said, half pettishly. 
 
 " Not very long, I hope" I observed, with meaning empha- 
 sis. " We are now in November. May I ask you to make 
 my suspense brief ? to allow me to fix our wedding for the 
 second month of the new year ? " 
 
 " But my recent widowhood ! — Stella's death ! " — she ob- 
 jected faintly, pressing a perfumed handkerchief gently to 
 her eyes. 
 
 " In February your husband will have been dead nearly 
 six months," I said, decisively ; " it is quite a sufficient period 
 of mourning for one so young as yourself. And the loss of 
 your child so increases the loneliness of your situation, that 
 it is natural, even necessary, that you should secure a pro- 
 tector as soon as possible. Society will not censure you, you 
 may be sure — besides, /shall know hew to silence any gossip 
 that savors of impertinence." 
 
 A smile of conscious triumph parted her lips. 
 
 " It shall be as you wish," she said, demurely; " if you, 
 who are known in Naples as one who is perfectly indifferent 
 to women like now to figure as an impatient lover. I shall not 
 object ! " 
 
 And she gave me a quick glance of mischievous amust 
 ment from under the languid lids of her dreamy dark eyes. 
 I saw it, but answered, stiffly : 
 
 "You are aware, contessa, and /am also aware that I am 
 not a * lover ' according to the accepted type, but that I am 
 impatient I readily admit." 
 
 " And why ? " she asked. 
 
 " Because," I replied, speaking slowly and emphatically ; 
 f6 1 desire you to be mine and mine only, to have you ab- 
 solutely in my possession, and to feel that no one can 
 
VENT) ETTA! 1 67 
 
 come between us, or interfere with my wishes concerning 
 you." 
 
 She laughed gayly. " A la bonne heure / You are a lover 
 without knowing it ! Your dignity will not allow you to be* 
 lieve that you are actually in love with me, but in spite of 
 yourself you are — you know you are ! " 
 
 I stood before her in almost somber silence. At last I 
 said : " If you say so, contessa, then it must be so. I have 
 had no experience in affairs of the heart, as they are called, 
 and I find it difficult to give a name to the feelings which 
 possess me ; I am only conscious of a very strong wish to be- 
 come the absolute master of your destiny." And involunta- 
 rily I clinched my hand as I spoke. She did not observe the 
 action, but she answered the words with a graceful bend of 
 the head and a smile. 
 
 " I could not have a better fortune," she said, " for I am 
 sure my destiny will be all brightness and beauty with you to 
 control and guide it ! " 
 
 " It will be what you desire," I half muttered ; then with 
 an abrupt change of manner I said : " I will wish you good- 
 night, contessa. It grows late, and my state of health com- 
 pels me to retire to rest early." 
 
 She rose from her seat and gave me a compassionate 
 kok. 
 
 " You are really a great sufferer then ? " she inquired ten- 
 derly. " I am sorry ! But perhaps careful nursing will quite 
 restore you. I shall be so proud if I can help you to secure 
 better health." 
 
 " Rest and happiness will no doubt do much for me," I an- 
 swered, " still I warn you, cam mia, that in accepting me as 
 your husband you take a broken-down man, one whose whims 
 are legion and whose chronic state of invalidism may in time 
 prove to be a burden on your young life. Are you sure your 
 decision is a wise one ? " 
 
 " Quite sure ! " she replied firmly. " Do I not love you ! 
 And you will not always be ailing — you look so strong." 
 
 " I am strong to a certain extent," I said, unconsciously 
 straightening myself as I stood. " I have plenty of muscle 
 as far as that goes, but my nervous system is completely 
 disorganized. I — why, what is the matter ? Are you ill ? " 
 
 For she had turned deathly pale, and her eyes look startled 
 and terrified. Thinking she would faint, I extended my 
 arms to save her from falling, but she put them aside with 
 an alarmed yet appealing gesture 
 
l68 VENDETTA! 
 
 " It is nothing," she murmured feebly, " a sudden giddi- 
 ness — I thought — no matter what ! Tell me, are you not 
 related to the Romani family? When you drew yourself up 
 just now you were so like — like Fabio / I fancied," and she 
 shuddered, " that I saw his ghost ! " 
 
 I supported her to a chair near the window, which I threw 
 :>pen for air, though the evening was cold. 
 
 " You are fatigued and overexcited," I said calmly, " youi 
 nature is too imaginative. No ; I am not related to the Ro 
 manis, though possibly I may have some of their manner- 
 isms. Many men are alike in these things. But you must 
 not give way to such fancies. Rest perfectly quiet, you will 
 soon recover." 
 
 And pouring out a glass of water I handed it to her. She 
 sipped it slowly, leaning back in the fauteuil where I had 
 placed her, and in silence we both looked out on the Novem- 
 ber night. There was a moon, but she was veiled by driving 
 clouds, which ever and anon swept asunder to show her 
 gleaming pallidly white, like the restless spirit of a deceived 
 and murdered lady. A rising wind moaned dismally among 
 the fading creepers and rustled the heavy branches of a giant 
 cypress that stood on the lawn like a huge spectral mourner 
 draped in black, apparently waiting for a forest funeral. Now 
 and then a few big drops of rain fell — sudden tears wrung as 
 though by force from the black heart of the sky. My wife 
 shivered. 
 
 " Shut the window ! " she said, glancing back at me where 
 I stood behind her chair. " I am much better now. I was 
 very silly. I do not know what came over me, but for the 
 moment I felt afraid — horribly afraid ! — of you / " 
 
 " That was not complimentary to your future husband," I 
 remarked, quietly, as I closed and fastened the window in 
 obedience to her request. " Should I not insist upon an 
 apology?" 
 
 She laughed nervously, and played with her ring of rose- 
 brilliants. 
 
 " It is not yet too late," I resumed, " if on second thoughts 
 you would rather not marry me, you have only to say so. I 
 shall accept my fate with equanimity, and shall not blame 
 you." 
 
 At this she seemed quite alarmed, and rising, laid her hand 
 pleadingly on my arm. 
 
 " Surely you are not offended ? " she said. " I was not 
 really afraid of you, you know — it was a stupid fancy — I can' 
 
VENDETTAt 169 
 
 not explain it. But I am quite well now, and I am only to6 
 happy. Why, I would not lose your love for all the world— 
 you 7incst believe me ! " 
 
 And she touched my hand caressingly with her lips. 1 
 withdrew it gently, and stroked her hair with an almost 
 parental tenderness ; then I said quietly : 
 
 " If so, we are agreed, and all is well. Let me advise you 
 to take a long night's rest ; your nerves are weak and some 
 what shaken. You wish me to keep our engagement 
 secret ? " 
 
 She thought for a moment, then answered musingly : 
 
 " For the present perhaps it would be best. Though,** 
 and she laughed, " it would be delightful to see all the other 
 women jealous and envious of my good fortune I Still, if 
 the news were told to any of our friends — who knows ? — it 
 might accidentally reach Guido, and " 
 
 "I understand! You may rely upon my discretion. 
 Good-night, contessa ! " 
 
 "You may call me Nina," she murmured, softly. 
 
 "Nina, then," I said, with some effort, as I lightly kissed 
 her. " Good-night ! — may your dreams be of me ! " She 
 responded to this with a gratified smile, and as I left the 
 room she waved her hand in a parting salute. My diamonds 
 flashed on it like a small circlet of fire ; the light shed through 
 the rose-colored lamps that hung from the painted ceiling 
 feH full on her exquisite loveliness, softening it into ethereal 
 radiance and delicacy, and when I strode forth from the 
 house into the night air heavy with the threatening gloom of 
 coming tempest, the picture of that fair face and form flitted 
 before me like a mirage — the glitter of her hair flashed on 
 my vision like little snakes of fire — her lithe hands seemed 
 to beckon me — her lips had left a scorching heat on mine. 
 Distracted with the thoughts that tortured me, I walked on 
 and on for hours. The storm broke at last ; the rain poured 
 in torrents, but heedless of wind and weather, I wandered on 
 like a forsaken fugitive. I seemed to be the only human 
 being left alive in a world of wrath and darkness. The rush 
 and roar of the blast, the angry noise of waves breaking 
 hurriedly on the shore, the swirling showers that fell on my 
 defenseless head — all these things were unfelt, unheard by 
 me. There are times in a man's life when mere physical 
 feeling grows numb under the pressure of intense mental 
 agony — when the indignant soul, smarting with the experi- 
 ence of some vile injustice, forgets fo r a little its narrow and 
 
■jf* VENDETTA I 
 
 poor house of clay. Some such mood was upon me then, I 
 suppose, for in the very act of walking I was almost uncon 
 icious of movement. An awful solitude seemed to encom 
 pass me — a silence of my own creating. I fancied that even 
 the angry elements avoided me as I passed ; that there was 
 nothing, nothing in all the wide universe but myself and a 
 dark brooding horror called Vengeance. All suddenly, the 
 mists of my mind cleared ; I moved no longer in a deaf, 
 blind stupor. A flash of lightning danced vividly before my 
 eyes, followed by a crashing peal of thunder , I saw to what 
 *nd of a wild journey I had come ! Those heavy gates — 
 that undefined stretch of land — those ghostly glimmers of 
 motionless white like spectral mile-stones emerging from the 
 gloom — I knew it all too well — it was the cemetery ! I looked 
 through the iron palisades with the feverish interest of one 
 who watches the stage curtain rise on the last scene of a 
 tragedy. The lightning sprung once more across the sky, 
 and showed me for a brief second the distant marble outline 
 of the Romani vault. There the drama began — where would 
 it end? Slowly, slowly there flitted into my thoughts the 
 face of my lost child — the young, serious face as it had 
 looked when the calm, preternaturally wise smile of Death 
 had rested upon it ; and then a curious feeling of pity pos- 
 sessed me — pity that her little body should be lying stiffly 
 out there, not in the vault, but under the wet sod, in such a 
 relentless storm of rain. I wanted to take her up from that 
 cold couch — to carry her to some home where there should 
 be light and heat and laughter — to warm her to life again 
 within my arms ; and as my brain played with these foolish 
 fancies, slow hot tears forced themselves into my eyes and 
 scalded my cheeks as they fell. These tears relieved me — 
 gradually the tightly strung tension of my nerves relaxed, 
 and I recovered my usual composure by degrees. Turning 
 deliberately away from the beckoning grave-stones, I walked 
 back to the city through the thick of the storm, this time 
 with an assured step and a knowledge of where I was going. 
 I did not reach my hotel till past midnight , but this was not 
 late for Naples, and the curiosity of the fat French hall- 
 porter was not so much excited by the lateness of my arrival 
 as by the disorder of my apparel. 
 
 ''Ah, Heaven!" he cried; "that monsieur the distin 
 guished should have been in such a storm all unprotected I 
 Why did not n&sasieur send for his carriage V I cut short 
 his exclamations by drogg'msx 6ve francs into his ever-r< 
 
VENDETTA t 171 
 
 hand, assuring him that I had thoroughly enjoyed the nov- 
 elty of a walk in bad weather, whereat he smiled and con- 
 gratulated me as much as he had just commiserated me. On 
 reaching my own rooms, my valet Vincenzo stared at my 
 dripping and disheveled condition, but was discreetly mute. 
 He qmickly assisted me to change my wet clothes for a warm 
 dressing-gown, and then brought a glass of mulled port wine, 
 but performed these duties with such an air of unbroken 
 gravity that I was inwardly amused while I admired the fel- 
 low's reticence. When I was about to retire for the night, I 
 tossed him a napoleon. He eyed it musingly and inquir- 
 ingly ; then he asked : 
 
 *' Your excellency desires to purchase something ? " 
 11 Your silence, my friend, that is all ! " I replied, with a 
 laugh. " Understand me, Vincenzo, you will serve yourself 
 and me best by obeying implicitly, and asking no questions. 
 Fortunate is the servant who, accustomed to see his master 
 drunk every night, swears to all outsiders that he has never 
 served so sober and discreet a gentleman ! That is your 
 character, Vincenzo — keep to it, and we shall not quarrel.'* 
 He smiled gravely, and pocketed my piece of gold without a 
 word — like a true Tuscan as he was. The sentimental serv- 
 ant, whose fine feelings will not allow him to accept an ex- 
 tra " tip," is, you may be sure, a humbug. I never believed 
 in such a one. Labor can always command its price, and 
 what so laborious in this age as to be honest ? What so diffi- 
 cult as to keep silence on other people's affairs ? Such her- 
 culean tasks deserve payment ! A valet who is generously 
 bribed, in addition to his wages, can be relied on ; if under- 
 paid, all heaven and earth will not persuade him to hold his 
 tongue. Left alone at last in my sleeping chamber, I re- 
 mained for some time before actually going to bed. I took 
 off the black spectacles which served me so well, and looked 
 at myself in the mirror with some curiosity. I never per- 
 mitted Vincenzo to enter my bedroom at night, or before I 
 was dressed in the morning, lest he should surprise me with- 
 out these appendages which were my chief disguise, for in 
 such a case I fancy even his studied composure would have 
 given way. For, disburdened of my smoke-colored glasses, 
 I appeared what I was, young and vigorous in spite of my 
 white beard and hair. My face, which had been worn and 
 haggard at first, had filled up and was healthily colored ; 
 while my eyes, the spokesmen of my thoughts, were bright 
 fith the clearness and fire of constitutional strength and 
 
172 VENDETTA! 
 
 physical well-being. I wondered, as I stared moodily at my 
 own reflection, how it was that I did not look ili. The men- 
 tal suffering I continually underwent, mingled though it was 
 with a certain gloomy satisfaction, should surely have left 
 more indelible traces on my countenance. Yet it has been 
 proved that it is not always the hollow-eyed, sallow and de- 
 spairing-looking persons who are really in sharp trouble— 
 "hese are more often bilious or dyspeptic, and know no more 
 serious grief than the incapacity to gratify their appetites for 
 the high-flavored delicacies of the table. A man may be en- 
 dowed with superb physique, and a constitution that is in 
 perfect working order — his face and outward appearance 
 may denote the most harmonious action of the life principle, 
 within him — and yet his nerves may be so finely strung that 
 he may be capable of suffering acuter agony in his mind than 
 if his body were to be hacked slowly to pieces by jagged 
 knives, and it will leave no mark on his features while youth 
 still has hold on his flesh and blood. 
 
 So it was with me ; and I wondered whati7z^ — Nina — would 
 say, could she behold me, unmasked as it were, in the soli- 
 tude of my own room. This thought roused another in my 
 mind — another at which I smiled grimly. J was an engaged 
 man ! Engaged to marry my own wife ; betrothed for the 
 second time to the same woman ! What a difference be- 
 tween this and my first courtship of her ! TTien, who so 
 great a fool as I — who so adoring, passionate and devoted ! 
 Now, who so darkly instructed, who so cold, so absolutely 
 pitiless ! The climax to my revenge was nearly reached. I 
 looked through the coming days as one looks through a tele- 
 scope out to sea, and I could watch the end approaching 
 like a phantom ship — neither slow nor fast, but steadily and 
 silently. I was able to calculate each event in its due 
 order, and I knew there was no fear of failure in the final 
 result. Nature itself — the sun, moon and stars, the sweep* 
 ing circle of the seasons — all seem to aid in the cause of 
 rightful justice. Man's duplicity may succeed in withhold- 
 ing a truth for a time, but in the end it must win its way. 
 Once resolve, and then determine to carry out that resolve, 
 and it is astonishing to note with what marvelous ease every- 
 thing makes way for you, provided there be no innate weak- 
 ness in yourself which causes you to hesitate. I had for- 
 merly been weak, I knew, very weak — else I had never been 
 fooled by wife and friend; but now, now my strength was as 
 (the strength of a demon working within me. My hand had 
 
VENDETTA f 1 73 
 
 already closed with an iron grip on two false unworthy lives, 
 and had I not sworn " never to relax, never to relent" till my 
 vengeance was accomplished ? I had 1 Heaven and earth 
 had borne witness to my vow, and now held me to its stern 
 fulfillment. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Winter, or what the Neapolitans accept as winter, came 
 on apace. For some time past the air had been full of that 
 mild chill and vaporous murkiness, which, not cold enough 
 to be bracing, sensibly lowered the system and depressed the 
 spirits. The careless and jovial temperament of the people, 
 however, was never much affected by the change of seasons 
 - — they drank more hot coffee than usual, and kept their feet 
 warm by dancing from midnight up to the small hours of the 
 morning. The cholera was a thing of the past — the cleansing 
 .1 the city, the sanitary precautions, which had been so much 
 talked about and recommended in order to prevent another 
 outbreak in the coming year, were all forgotten and neglected, 
 and the laughing populace tripped lightly over the graves of 
 its dead hundreds as though they were odorous banks of 
 flowers. " Oggi / Oggi /" is their cry — to-day, to-day! 
 Never mind what happened yesterday, or what will happen 
 to-morrow — leave that to i signori Santi and la Signora Ma- 
 donna 1 And after all there is a grain of reason in their folly, for 
 many of the bitterest miseries of man grow out of a fatal habit 
 of looking back or looking forward, and of never living actually 
 in the full-faced present. Then, too, Carnival was approach- 
 ing ; Carnival, which, though denuded of many of its best 
 and brightest features, still reels through the streets of Naples 
 with something of the picturesque madness that in old times 
 used to accompany its prototype, the Feast of Bacchus. I 
 was reminded of this coming festivity on the morning of the 
 2 1 st of December, when I noted some unusual attempts on 
 the part of Vincenzo to control his countenance, that often, 
 in spite of his efforts, broadened into a sunny smile as though 
 some humorous thought had flitted across his mind. He be- 
 trayed himself at last by asking me demurely whether I pur- 
 posed taking any part in the carnival ? I smiled and shook 
 my head. Vincenzo looked dubious, but finally summoned 
 tip courage to say : 
 
 *' Will the eccellenza permit—-*' 
 
174 VENDETTA t 
 
 "You to make a fool of yourself ? " I interrupted, "by aB 
 weans ! Take your own time, enjoy the fun as much as you 
 please ; I promise you I will ask no account of your actions." 
 
 He was much gratified, and attended to me with even more 
 punctiliousness than usual. As he prepared my breakfast I 
 asked him : 
 
 " By the way, when does the carnival begin ? " 
 
 " On the 26th," he answered, with a slight air of surprise 
 * Surely the eccellenza knows." 
 
 " Yes, yes," I said, impatiently. " I know, but I had for- 
 gotten. I am not young enough to keep the dates of these 
 follies in my memory. What letters have you there ? " 
 
 He handed me a small tray full of different shaped missives, 
 some from fair ladies who " desired the honor of my com- 
 pany," others from tradesmen, "praying the honor of my cus- 
 tom," all from male and female toadies as usual, I thought 
 contemptuously, as I turned them over, when my glance was 
 suddenly arrested by one special envelope, square in form 
 and heavily bordered with black, on which the postmark 
 " Roma " stood out distinctly. " At last ! " I thought, and 
 breathed heavily. I turned to my valet, who was giving the 
 final polish to my breakfast cup and saucer : 
 
 " You may leave the room, Vincenzo," I said, briefly. He 
 bowed, the door opened and shut noiselessly — he was gone. 
 
 Slowly I broke the seal of that fateful letter ; a letter from 
 Guido Ferrari, a warrant self-signed, for his own execution ! 
 
 " My best Friend," so it ran, " you will guess by the 
 1 black flag' on my envelope the good news I have to give 
 you. My uncle is dead at /ast, thank God ! and I am left his 
 sole heir unconditionally. I am free, and shall of course re- 
 turn to Naples immediately, that is, as soon as some trifling 
 law business has been got through with the executors. I be 
 lieve I can arrange my return for the 23d or 24th instant, 
 but will telegraph to you the exact day, and, if possible, the 
 exact hour. Will you oblige me by not announcing this to 
 the countess, as I wish to take her by surprise. Poor girl ! 
 she will have often felt lonely, I am sure, and I want to see 
 the first beautiful look of rapture and astonishment in her 
 eyes ! You can understand this, can you not, amico, or does 
 it seem to you a folly ? At any rate, I should consider it 
 very churlish were I to keep you in ignorance of my coming 
 home, and I know you will humor me in my desire that the 
 flews should be withheld from Nina. How delighted she 
 
VENDETTA J .^3 
 
 will be, and what a joyous carnival we will have this winter ! 
 I do not think I ever felt more light of heart; perhaps it is 
 because I am so much heavier in pocket. I am glad of the 
 money, as it places me on a more equal footing with her, and 
 though all her letters to me have been full of the utmost ten- 
 derness, still I feel she will think even better of me, now I 
 am in a position somewhat nearer to her own. As for jou, 
 my good conte, on my return I shall make it my first duty to 
 pay back with interest the rather large debt I owe to you — 
 thus my honor will be satisfied, and you, I am sure, will have 
 a better opinion of 
 
 " Yours to command, 
 
 11 Guido Ferrari/' 
 
 This was the letter, and I read it over and over again. 
 Some of the words burned themselves into my memory as 
 though they were living flame. " All her letters to me have 
 been full of the utmost tenderness ! " Oh, miserable-dupe ! 
 fooled, fooled to the acme of folly even as I had been ! She, 
 the arch-traitress, to prevent his entertaining the slightest 
 posible suspicion or jealousy of her actions during his ab- 
 sence, had w r ritten him, no doubt, epistles sweet as honey, 
 brimming over with endearing epithets and vows of constancy, 
 even while she knew she had accepted me as her husband — 
 me — good God ! What a devil's dance of death it was ! 
 
 " On my return I shall make it my first duty to pay back 
 with interest the rather large debt I owe you " ( rather large 
 indeed, Guido, so large that you have no idea of its extent !), 
 u thus my honor will be satisfed" (and so will mine in part), 
 " and you, I am sure, will have a better opinioii of yours to com- 
 mand." Perhaps I shall, Guido — mine to command as you 
 are — perhaps when all my commands are fulfilled to the 
 bitter end, I may think more kindly of you. But not till 
 then ! In the meantime — I thought earnestly for a few min- 
 utes, and then sitting down, I penned the following note. 
 
 " Caro amico ! Delighted to hear of your good fortune, 
 and still more enchanted to know you will soon enliven us 
 all with your presence ! I admire your little plan of surpris- 
 ing the countess, and will respect your wishes in the matter. 
 But you, on your part, must do me a trifling favor : we have 
 been very dull since you left, and I purpose to start the gay 
 eties ^resh by giving a dinner on the 24th (Christmas Eve), 
 in he *•*■ gf your return — an epicurean repast for gentlemen 
 
176 VENDETTA I 
 
 only. Therefore, I ask you to oblige me by fixing your re* 
 turn for that day, a»d on arrival at Naples, come straight t« 
 me at this hotel, that I may have the satisfaction of being 
 the first to welcome you as you deserve. Telegraph youl 
 answer and the hour of your train ; and my carriage shall 
 meet you at the station. The dinner-hour can be fixed to 
 suit your convenience of course ; what say you to eight 
 o'clock ? After dinner you can betake yourself to the Villa 
 Romani when you please — your enjoyment of the lady's 
 surprise and rapture will be the more keen for having been 
 slightly delayed. Trusting you will not refuse to gratify aa 
 old man's whim, I am, 
 
 " Yours for the time being, 
 
 " Cesare Oliva." 
 
 This epistle finished and written in the crabbed disguised 
 penmanship it was part of my business to effect, I folded, 
 sealed and addressed it, and summoning Vincenzo, bade 
 him post it immediately. As soon as he had gone on this 
 errand, I sat down to my as yet untasted breakfast and made 
 some effort to eat as usual. But my thoughts were too active 
 for appetite — I counted on my fingers the days — there were 
 four, only four, between me and — what? One thing was 
 certain — I must see my wife, or rather I should say my 
 betrothed — I must see her that very day. I then began to 
 consider how my courtship had progressed since that even- 
 ing when she had declared she loved me. I had seen her 
 frequently, though not daily — her behavior had been by turns 
 affectionate, adoring, timid, gracious and once or twice 
 passionately loving, though the la.ter impulse in her I had 
 arways coldly checked. For though I could bear a great 
 deal, any outburst of sham sentiment on her part sickened 
 and filled me with such utter loathing that often when she 
 was more than usuaUy tender I dreaded lest my pent-up 
 wrath should break loose and impel me to kill her swiftly 
 and suddenly as one crushes the head of a poisonous adder — 
 an all-too-merciful death for such as she. I preferred to woo 
 her by gifts alone — and her hands were always ready to take 
 whatever I or others chose to offer her. From a rare jewel 
 to a common flower she never refused anything — her strongest 
 passions were vanity and avarice. Sparkling gems from the 
 pilfered store of Carmelo Neri — trinkets which I had espe- 
 cially designed for her — lace, rich embroideries, bouquets of 
 hot-house blossoms, gilded boxes of costly sweets — nothing 
 
VENDETTAS ttjf 
 
 «wne amiss to her — she accepted all with a certain covetous 
 glee which she was at no pains to hide from me — nay, she 
 made it rather evident that she expected such things as her 
 right 
 
 And after all, what did it matter to me — I thought— of 
 what value was anything I possessed save to assist me in 
 carrying out the punishment I had destined for her? I 
 studied her nature with critical coldness — I saw its inbred 
 vice artfully concealed beneath the affectation of virtue — every 
 day she sunk lower in my eyes, and I wondered vaguely how 
 I could ever have loved so coarse and common a thing I 
 Lovely she certainly was — lovely too are many of the wretched 
 outcasts who sell themselves in the streets for gold, and who 
 in spite of their criminal trade are less vile than such a 
 woman as the one I had wedded. Mere beauty of face and 
 form can be bought as easily as one buys a flower — but the 
 loyal heart, the pure soul, the lofty intelligence which can 
 make of woman an angel — these are unpurchasable ware, and 
 seldom fall to the lot of man. For beauty, though so perish- 
 able, is a snare to us all — it maddens our blood in spite of 
 ourselves — we men are made so. How was it that I — even I, 
 who now loathed the creature I had once loved — could not 
 look upon her physical loveliness without a foolish thrill of 
 passion awaking within me — passion that had something of 
 the murderous in it — admiration that was almost brutal- 
 feelings which I could not control though I despised myself 
 for them while they lasted 1 There is a weak point in the 
 strongest of us, and wicked women know well where we are 
 most vulnerable. One dainty pin-prick well-aimed — and all 
 the barriers of caution and reserve are broken down — we are 
 ready to fling away our souls for a smile or a kiss. Surely 
 at the last day when we are judged — and may be condemned 
 —we can make our last excuse to the Creator in the words 
 of the first misguided man : 
 
 "The woman whom thou gavest to be with me — she 
 tempted me, and I did eat I " 
 
 I lost no time that day in going to the Villa Romani. I 
 drove there in my carriage, taking with me the usual love- 
 offering in the shape of a large gilded osier-basket full of 
 white violets. Their delicious odor reminded me of that 
 May morning when Stella was born — and then quickly there 
 flashed into my mind the words spoken by Guido Ferrari at 
 the time. How mysterious they had seemed to me then— 
 how clear their meaning now 1 On arriving at the villa I 
 
178 VENDETTA! 
 
 found my fiande in her own boudoir, attired in morning 
 dtehabille, if a trailing robe of white cashmere trimmed with 
 Mechlin lace and swan's-down can be considerid dhhabille. 
 Her rich hair hung loosely on her shoulders, and she was 
 seated in a velvet easy-chair before a small sparkling wood 
 fire, reading. Her attitude was one of luxurious ease and 
 grace, but she sprung up as soon as her maid announced me, 
 and came forward with her usual charming air of welcome, 
 in which there was something imperial, as of a sovereign who 
 receives a subject. I presented the flowers I had brought, 
 with a few words of studied and formal compliment, uttered 
 for the benefit of the servant who lingered in the room — then 
 T added in a lower tone : 
 
 " I have news of importance — can I speak to you pri' 
 vately ? " 
 
 She smiled assent, and motioning me by a graceful gesture 
 of her hand to take a seat, she at once dismissed her maid. 
 As soon as the door had closed behind the girl I spoke at 
 once and to the point, scarcely waiting till my wife resumed 
 her easy-chair before the fire. 
 
 " I have had a letter from Signor Ferrari." 
 
 She started slightly, but said nothing, she merely bowed 
 her head and raised her delicately arched eyebrows with a 
 look of inquiry as of one who should say, " Indeed ! in what 
 way does this concern me ? " I watched her narrowly, and 
 then continued, " He is coming back in two or three days — 
 he says he is sure," and here I smiled, " that you will be de- 
 lighted to see him." 
 
 This time she half rose from her seat, her lips moved as 
 though she would speak, but she remained silent, and sinking 
 back again among her violet velvet cushions, she grew very 
 pale. 
 
 " If," I went on, " you have any reason to think that he 
 may make himself disagreeable to you when he knows of your 
 engagement to me, out of disappointed ambition, conceit, 01 
 self-interest (for of course you never encouraged him), I should 
 advise you to go on a visit to some friends for a few days, till 
 his irritation shall have somewhat passed. What say you to 
 such a plan ? " 
 
 She appeared to meditate for a few moments — then rais- 
 ing her lovely eyes with a wistful and submissive look, she 
 replied : 
 
 " It shall be as you wish, Cesare ! Signor Ferrari is cer- 
 tainly rash and hot-tempered, he might be presumptuous 
 
VENDETTA! 
 
 179 
 
 enough to — But you do not think of yourself in the matter ! 
 Surely you also are in danger of being insulted by him when 
 he knows all ? " 
 
 " I shall be on my guard ! " I said, quietly. " Besides, I 
 can easily pardon any outburst of temper on his part — it will 
 be perfectly natural, I think ! To lose all hope of ever win 
 ning such a love as yours must needs be a sore trial to one 
 of his hot blood and fiery impulses. Poor fellow ! " and I 
 sighed and shook my head with benevolent gentleness. " By 
 the way, he tells me he has had letters from you ? " 
 
 I put this question carelessly, but it took her by surprise. 
 She caught her breath hard and kooked at me sharply, with 
 an alarmed expression. Seeing that my face was perfectly 
 impassive, she recovered her composure instantly, and an- 
 swered : 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I have been compelled to write to him once 
 or twice on matters of business connected with my late 
 husband's affairs. Most unfortunately, Fabio made him one 
 of the trustees of his fortune in case of his death — it is exceed- 
 ingly awkward for me that he should occupy that position — 
 it appears to give him some authority over my actions. In 
 reality he has none. He has no doubt exaggerated the num- 
 ber of times I have written to him ? it would be like his im- 
 pertinence to do so." 
 
 Though this last remark was addressed to me almost as 9 
 question, I let it pass without response. I reverted to my 
 original theme. 
 
 " What think you, then ? " I said. " Will you remain here 
 or will you absent yourself for a few days ? " 
 
 She rose from her chair and approaching me, knelt down 
 at my side, clasping her two little hands round my arm. 
 • With your permission," she returned, softly, " I will go to 
 the convent where I w r as educated. It is some eight or ten 
 miles distant from here, and I think " (here she counterfeited 
 the most wonderful expression of ingenuous sweetness and 
 piety) — " I think I should like to make a ' retreat ' — that is, 
 devote some time solely to the duties of religion before I 
 enter upon a second marriage. The dear nuns would be so 
 glad to see me — and I am sure you will not object ? It 
 will be a good preparation for my future." 
 
 I seized her caressing hands and held them hard, while I 
 looked upon her kneeling there like the white-robed figure 
 of a praying saint. 
 
 41 It will indeed 1" I said in a harsh voice. "The best of 
 
j8o VENDETTA ! 
 
 all possible preparations ! We none of us know what may 
 happen — we cannot tell whether life or death awaits us — it 
 is wise to prepare for either bywords of penitence and devo- 
 tion ! I admire this beautiful spirit in you, carina ! Go to 
 the convent by all means ! I shall find you there and will 
 visit you when the wrath and bitterness of our friend Ferrari 
 have been smoothed into silence and resignation. Yes — go 
 to the convent, among the good and pious nuns — and when 
 you pray for yourself, pray for the peace of your dead hus- 
 band's soul — and — for me ! Such prayers, unselfish and 
 earnest, uttered by pure lips like yours, fly swiftly to heaven ! 
 And as for young Guido — have no fear — I promise you he 
 shall offend you no more ! " 
 
 " Ah, you do not know him ! " she murmured, lightly kiss- 
 ing my hands that still held hers ; " I fear he will give you a 
 great deal of trouble." 
 
 " I shall at any rate know how to silence him," I said, re- 
 leasing her as I spoke, and watching her as she rose from 
 her kneeling position and stood before me, supple and delicate 
 as a white iris swaying in the wind. " You never gave him 
 reason to hope — therefore he has no cause of complaint." 
 
 " True ! " she replied, readily, with an untroubled smile. 
 14 But I am such a nervous creature ! I am always imagin- 
 ing evils that never happen. And now, Cesare, when do you 
 wish me to go to the convent ? " 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders with an air of indifference. 
 
 " Your submission to my will, mia bella" I said, coldly, 
 " is altogether charming, and flatters me much, but I am not 
 your master — not yet 1 Pray choose your own time, and suit 
 your departure to your own pleasure." 
 
 " Then," she replied, with an air of decision, " I will go to- 
 day. The sooner the better — for some instinct tells me that 
 Guido will play us a trick and return before we expect him. 
 Yes — I will go to-day." 
 
 I rose to take my leave. " Then you will require leisure 
 to make your preparations," I said, with ceremonious polite- 
 ness. " I assure you I approve your resolve. If you inform 
 the superioress of the convent that I am your betrothed hus- 
 band, I suppose I shall be permitted to see you when I 
 call?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! " she replied. " The dear nuns will do 
 anything for me. Their order is one of perpetual adoration, 
 and their rules are very strict, but they do not apply them to 
 their old pupils, and I am one of their great favorites." 
 
VENDETTA I I&I 
 
 * Naturally ! n I observed. " And will you also join in the 
 service of perpetual adoration ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes I " 
 
 " It needs an untainted soul like yours," I said, with a 
 satirical smile, which she did not see, " to pray before the un- 
 veiled Host without being conscience-smitten 1 I envy you 
 your privilege. 7" could not do it — but you are probably 
 nearer to the angels than we know. And so you will pray 
 forme?" 
 
 She raised her eyes with devout gentleness. " I will in- 
 'deed!" 
 
 " I thank you 1 " — and I choked back the bitter contempt 
 and disgust I had for her hypocrisy as I spoke — " I thank 
 you heartily — most heartily I Addio I " 
 
 She came or rather floated to my side, her white garments 
 trailing about her and the gold of her hair glittering in the 
 mingled glow of the firelight and the wintery sunbeams that 
 shone through the window. She looked up — a witch-like 
 languor lay in her eyes — her red lips pouted. 
 
 ** Not one kiss before you go ? " she said. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 For a moment I lost my self-possession. I scarcely re- 
 member now what I did. I know I clasped her almost roughly 
 in my arms — I know that I kissed her passionately on lips, 
 throat and brow — and that in the fervor of my embraces, the 
 thought of what manner of vile thing she was came swiftly 
 upon me, causing me to release her with such suddenness 
 that she caught at the back of a chair to save herself from 
 falling. Her breath came and went in little quick gasps of 
 excitement, her face was flushed — she looked astonished, 
 yet certainly not displeased. No, she was not angry, but I 
 was — thoroughly annoyed — bitterly vexed with myself, for 
 being such a fool. 
 
 " Forgive me," I muttered. " I forgot — I " 
 
 A little smile stole round the corners of her mouth. 
 " You are fully pardoned 1 " she said, in a low voice, "you 
 need not apologize." 
 
 Her smile deepened ; suddenly she broke into a rippling 
 laugh, sweet and silvery as a bell — a laugh that went through 
 Q>e like a knife, Was it not the self-same laughter that had 
 
l82 VENDETTA l 
 
 pierced my brain the night I witnessed her amorous inter' 
 view with Guido in the avenue ? Had not the cruel mock- 
 ery of it nearly driven me mad ? I could not endure it — I 
 sprung to her side — she ceased laughing and looked at me 
 in wide-eyed wonderment. 
 
 " Listen ! " I said, in an impatient, almost fierce tone, 
 ** D« not laugh like that I It jars my nerves — it — hurts me J 
 ! will tell you why. Once — long ago — in my youth — I loved 
 a woman. She was not like you — no — for she was false I 
 False to the very heart's core — false in every word she ut 
 fcered. You understand me ? she resembled you in nothings 
 nothing ! But she used to laugh at me — she trampled on my 
 life and spoiled it— she broke my heart ! It is all past now, 
 I never think of her, only your laughter reminded me — 
 there ! " And I took her hands and kissed them. " I have 
 told you the story of my early folly — forget it and forgive 
 me! It is time you prepared for your journey, is it not? 
 If I can be of service to you, command me — you know where 
 to send for me. Good-bye I and the peace of a pure con- 
 science be with you ! " 
 
 And I laid my burning hand on her head weighted with 
 its clustering curls of gold. She thought this gesture was 
 one of blessing. / thought — God only knows what I thought 
 — yet surely if curses can be so bestowed, my curse crowned 
 her at that moment ! I dared not trust myself longer in her 
 presence, and without another word or look I left her and 
 hurried from the house. I knew she was startled and at 
 the same time gratified to think she could thus have moved 
 me to any display of emotion — but I would not even turn my 
 head to catch her parting glance. I could not — I was sick 
 of myself and of her. I was literally torn asunder between 
 love and hatred — love born basely of material feeling alone 
 — hatred, the offspring of a deeply injured spirit for whose 
 wrong there could scarce be found sufficient remedy. Once 
 out of the influence of her bewildering beauty, my mind 
 grew calmer — and the drive back to the hotel in my carriage 
 through the sweet dullness of the December air quieted the 
 feverish excitement of my blood and restored me to myself. 
 It was a most lovely day — bright and fresh, with the savor 
 of the sea in the wind. The waters of the bay were of a 
 steel-like blue shading into deep olive-green, and a soft haze 
 lingered about the shores of Amain like a veil of gray, shot 
 through with silver and gold. Down the streets went women 
 in picturesque garb carrying on their heads baskets full to 
 
VENDETTA 1 183 
 
 the brim of purple violets that scented the air as they passed 
 — children ragged and dirty ran along, pushing the luxuriant 
 tangle of their dark locks away from their beautiful wild an- 
 telope eyes, and, holding up bunches of roses and narcissi 
 with smiles as brilliant as the very sunshine, implored the 
 passengers to buy " for the sake of the little Gesu who was 
 soon coming I " 
 
 Bells clashed and clanged from the churches in- honor of 
 San Tommaso, whose festival it was, and the city had that 
 aspect of gala gayety about it, which is in truth common 
 enough to all continental towns, but which seems strange to 
 the solemn Londoner who sees so much apparently reason- 
 less merriment for the first time. He, accustomed to have 
 his reluctant laughter pumped out of him by an occasional 
 visit to the theater where he can witness the " original," En- 
 glish translation of a French farce, cannot understand why 
 these foolish Neapolitans should laugh and sing and shout 
 in the manner they do, merely because they are glad to be 
 alive. And after much dubious consideration, he decides 
 within himself that they are all rascals — the scum of the 
 earth — and that he and he only is the true representative of 
 man at his best — the model of civilized respectability. And 
 a mournful spectacle he thus seems to the eyes of us " base" 
 foreigners — in our hearts we are sorry for him and believe 
 that if he could manage to shake off the fetters of his insular 
 customs and prejudices, he might almost succeed in enjoy- 
 ing life as much as we do ! 
 
 As I drove along I saw a small crowd at one of the street 
 corners — a gesticulating, laughing crowd, listening to an 
 " improvisatore " or wandering poet — a plump-looking fellow 
 who had all the rhymes of Italy at his fingers' ends, and who 
 could make a poem on any subject or an acrostic on any 
 name, with perfect facility. I stopped my carriage to listen 
 tohis extemporized verses, many of which were really admir- 
 able, and tossed him three francs. He threw them up in the air, 
 one after the other, and caught them, as they fell, in his mouth, 
 appearing to have swallowed them all — then with an inimi- 
 table grimace, he pulled off his tattered cap and said : 
 
 " Ancora affamato, excellenza /" (I am still hungry !) amid 
 the renewed laughter of his easily amused audience. A 
 merry poet he was and without conceit — and his good humor 
 merited the extra silver pieces I gave him, which caused him, 
 to wish me — " Buon ppetito e un sorriso della Madonna / * 
 — (« good appetite to you and a smile of the Madonna A 
 
184. V&NDETTAl 
 
 Imagine the Lord Laureate of England standing at the cor- 
 ner of Regent Street swallowing half -pence for his rhymes ! 
 Yet some of the quaint conceits strung together by such 3 
 fellow as this improvisatore might furnish material for manj 
 of the so-called " poets " whose names are mysteriously 
 honored in Britain. 
 
 Further on I came upon a group of red-capped coral 
 fishers assembled round a portable stove whereon roasting 
 chestnuts cracked their glossy sides and emitted savor) 
 jdors. The men were singing gayly to the thrumming of an 
 •Id guitar, and the song they sung was familiar to me. 
 Stay 1 where had I heard it ? — let me listen I 
 
 " Sciore limone * 
 Le voglio far morl de passione 
 Zoinpa llarl llira t " 
 
 Ha ! I remembered now. When I had crawled out of the 
 rault through the brigand's hole of entrance — when my heart 
 had bounded with glad anticipations never to be realized — 
 when I had believed in the worth of love and friendship — 
 when I had seen the morning sun glittering on the sea, and 
 had thought — poor fool ! — that his long beams were like so 
 many golden flags of joy hung up in heaven to symbolize the 
 happiness of my release from death and my restoration to 
 liberty — then — then I had heard a sailor's voice in the dis- 
 tance singing that " ritorrello," and I had fondly imagined 
 its impassioned lines were ail for me ! Hateful music — most 
 bitter sweetness ! I could have put my hands up to my ears 
 to shut out the sound of it now that I thought of the time 
 when I had heard it last ! For then I had possessed a heart 
 — a throbbing, passionate, sensitive thing — alive to every 
 emotion of tenderness and affection — now that heart was 
 dead and cold as a stone. Only its corpse went with me 
 everywhere, weighing me down with itself to the strange 
 grave it occupied, a grave wherein were also buried so many 
 dear delusions — such plaintive regrets, such pleading mem- 
 ories, that surely it was no wonder their small ghosts arose 
 and haunted me, saying, " Wilt thou not weep for this lost 
 sweetness ? " " Wilt thou not relent before such a remem- 
 brance ? " or " Hast thou no desire for that past delight ?" 
 But to all such inward temptations my soul was deaf and 
 inexorable ; justice — stern, immutable justice was what I 
 sought and what I meant to have. 
 
 May be you find it hard to understand the possibility oi 
 * Neapolitan dialect. 
 
VENDETTA I 185 
 
 Bcheming and carrying out so prolonged a vengeance as mine ? 
 If you that read these pages are English, I know it will seem 
 to you well-nigh incomprehensible. The temperate blood of 
 the northerner, combined with his open, unsuspicious nature, 
 has, I admit, the advantage over us in matters of personal 
 injury. An Englishman, so I hear, is incapable of nourish- 
 ing a long and deadly resentment, even against an unfaithful 
 wife — he is too indifferent, he thinks it not worth his while. 
 But we Neapolitans, we can carry a " vendetta " through a 
 life-time — ay, through generation after generation I This is 
 bad, you say — immoral, unchristian. No doubt ! We are 
 more than half pagans at heart ; we are as our country and 
 our traditions have made us. It will need another visitation 
 of Christ before we shall learn how to forgive those that de- 
 spitefully use us. Such a doctrine seems to us a mere play 
 upon words — a weak maxim only fit for children and priests. 
 Besides, did Christ himself forgive Judas ? The gospel does 
 not say so 1 
 
 When I reached my own apartments at the hotel I felt 
 worn out and fagged. I resolved to rest and receive no 
 visitors that day. While giving my orders to Vincenzo a 
 thought occurred to me. I went to a cabinet in the room and 
 unlocked a secret drawer. In it lay a strong leather case. 
 I lifted this, and bade Vincenzo unstrap and open it. He 
 did so, nor showed the least sign of surprise when a pair of 
 richly ornamented pistols was displayed to his view. 
 
 " Good weapons ? " I remarked, in a casual manner. 
 
 My vallet took each one out of the case, and examined 
 them both critically. 
 
 " They need cleaning, eccellenza." 
 
 " Good I " I said, briefly. " Then clean them and put 
 them in good order. I may require to use them.'* 
 
 The imperturbable Vincenzo bowed, and taking the weap 
 ans, prepared to leave the room. 
 
 " Stay 1 " 
 
 He turned. I looked at him steadily. 
 
 " I believe you are a faithful fellow, Vincenzo," I said. 
 
 He met my glance frankly. 
 
 " The day may come," I went on, quietly, " when I shall 
 perhaps put your fidelity to the proof." 
 
 The dark Tuscan eyes, keen and clear the moment before, 
 flashed brightly and then grew humid. 
 
 " Eccellenza, you have only to command I I was a soldiei 
 once — I know what duty means. But there is a better senf 
 
!86 VENDETTAS 
 
 ice — gratitude. I am your poor servant, but you have woli 
 my heart. I would give my life for you should you desire it ! n 
 
 He paused, half ashamed of the emotion that threatened 
 to break through his mask of impassibility, bowed again and 
 would have left me, but that I called him back and held out 
 my hand. 
 
 " Shake hands, amko" I said, simply, 
 
 He caught it with an astonished yet pleased look — and stoop- 
 ing, kissed it before I could prevent him, and this time liter 
 illy scrambled out of my presence with an entire oblivion of 
 ins usual dignity. Left alone, I considered this behavior of 
 his with half-pained surprise. This poor fellow loved me it 
 was evident — why, I knew not. I had done no more for 
 him than any other master might have done for a good serv- 
 ant. I had often spoken to him with impatience, even 
 harshness ; and yet I had " won his heart " — so he said. 
 Why should he care for me ? why should my poor old butler 
 Giacoma cherish me so devotedly in his memory : why should 
 my very dog still love and obey me, when my nearest and 
 dearest, my wife and my friend, had so gladly forsaken me, 
 and were so eager to forget me ! Perhaps fidelity was not 
 the fashion now among educated persons ? Perhaps it was 
 a worn-out virtue, left to the bas-peuple — to the vulgar — and 
 to animals ? Progress might have attained this result — no 
 doubt it had. 
 
 I sighed wearily, and threw myself down in an arm-chair 
 near the window, and watched the white-sailed boats skim- 
 ming like flecks of silver across the blue-green water. The 
 tinkling of a tambourine by and by attracted my wandering 
 attention, and looking into the street just below my balcony 
 I saw a young girl dancing. She was lovely to look at, and 
 she danced with exquisite grace as well as modesty, but the 
 beauty of her face was not so much caused by perfection of 
 feature or outline as by a certain wistful expression that had 
 in it something of nobility and pride. I watched her ; at the 
 conclusion of her dance she held up her tambourine with a 
 bright yet appealing smile. Silver and copper were freely 
 flung to her, I contributing my quota to the amount ; but all 
 she received she at once emptied into a leathern bag which 
 was carried by a young and handsome man who accompanied 
 her, and who, alas ! was totally blind. I knew the couple 
 well, and had often seen them ; their history was pathetic 
 enough. The girl had been betrothed to the young fellow 
 when he had occupied a fairly good position as a worker in 
 
VENDETTA t 187 
 
 silver filigree jewelry. His eyesight, long painfully strained 
 over his delicate labors, suddenly failed him — he lost his 
 place, of course, and was utterly without resources. He 
 offered to release his fiancke from her engagement, but she 
 would not take her freedom — she insisted on marrying him 
 at once. She had her way, and devoted herself to him soul 
 and body — danced in the streets and sung to gain a living 
 for herself and him ; taught him to weave baskets so that he 
 might not feel himself entirely dependent on her, and she 
 sold these baskets for him so successfully that he was grad- 
 ually making quite a little trade of them. Poor child ! for 
 she was not much more than a child — what a bright face she 
 had ! — glorified by the self-denial and courage of her every* 
 day life. No wonder she had won the sympathy of the warm- 
 hearted and impulsive Neapolitans — they looked upon her 
 as a heroine of romance ; and as she passed through the 
 streets, leading her blind husband tenderly by the hand, there 
 was not a creature in the city, even among the most abandoned 
 and vile characters, who would have dared to offer her the 
 least insult, or who would have ventured to address her other- 
 wise than respectfully. She was good, innocent, and true ; 
 how was it, I wondered dreamily, that /could not have won 
 a woman's heart like hers ? Were the poor alone to possess 
 all the old world virtues — honor and faith, love and loyalty ? 
 Was there something in a life of luxury that sapped virtue 
 at its root ? Evidently early training had little to do with 
 after results, for had not my wife been brought up among an 
 order of nuns renowned for simplicity and sanctity ; had not 
 her own father declared her to be " as pure as a flower on 
 the altar of the Madonna ; " and yet the evil had been in her, 
 and nothing had eradicated it ; for even religion, with her, 
 was a mere graceful sham, a kind of theatrical effect used 
 to tone down her natural hypocrisy. My own thoughts 
 began to harass and weary me. I took up a volume of phil- 
 osophic essays and began to read, in an endeavor to distract 
 my mind from dwelling on the one perpetual theme. The 
 day wore on slowly enough ; and I was glad when the even- 
 ing closed in, and when Vincenzo, remarking that the night 
 was chilly, kindled a pleasant wood-fire in my room, and 
 lighted the lamps. A little while before my dinner was 
 served he handed me a letter stating that it had just been 
 brought by the Countess Romani's coachman. It bore my 
 own seal and motto. I opened it ; it was dated, " La San- 
 tissima Annunziata," and ran as follows : 
 
l88 VENDETTA l 
 
 " Beloved ! I arrived here safely ; the nuns are delighted 
 to see me, and you will be made heartily welcome when you 
 come, I think of you constantly — how happy I felt this 
 morning ! You seemed to love me so much ; why are you 
 not always so fond of your faithful 
 
 " Nina ? " 
 
 I crumpled this note fiercely in my hand and flung it into 
 the leaping flames of the newly lighted fire. There was a 
 faint perfume about it that sickened me — a subtle odor like 
 that of a civet cat when it moves stealthily after its prey 
 through a tangle of tropical herbage. I always detested 
 scented note-paper — I am not the only man who does so. 
 One is led to fancy that the fingers of the woman who writes 
 upon it must have some poisonous or offensive taint about 
 them, which she endeavors to cover by the aid of a chemical 
 concoction. I would not permit myself to think of this so 
 " faithful Nina " as she styled herself. I resumed my read- 
 ing, and continued it even at dinner, during which meal 
 Vincenzo waited upon me with his usual silent gravity and 
 decorum, though I could feel that he watched me with a 
 certain solicitude. I suppose I looked weary — I certainly 
 felt so, and retired to rest unusually early. The time seemed 
 to me so long — would the end never come ? The next day 
 dawned and trailed its tiresome hours after it, as a prisoner 
 might trail his chain of iron fetters, until sunset, and then — - 
 then, when the gray of the wintery sky flashed for a brief 
 space into glowing red — then, while the water looked like 
 blood and the clouds like flame — then a few words sped along 
 the telegraph wires that stilled my impatience, roused my 
 soul, and braced every nerve and muscle in my body to 
 instant action. They were plain, clear, and concise : 
 
 " From Guido Ferrari, Rome, to II Conte Cesare Oliva, 
 Naples. — Shall be with you on the 24th inst. Train arrives 
 at 6:30 p.m. Will come to you as you desire without fail." 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Christmas-eve ! The day had been extra chilly, with fre- 
 quent showers of stinging rain, but toward five o'clock in 
 the afternoon the weather cleared. The clouds, which had 
 
 
VENDETTA I 1 89 
 
 been of a dull uniform gray, began to break asunder and 
 disclose little shining rifts of pale blue and bright gold ; the 
 sea looked like a wide satin ribbon shaken out and shimmer- 
 ing with opaline tints. Flower girls trooped forth making 
 the air musical with their mellow cries of " Fiori ! chi mcol 
 iiori" and holding up their tempting wares — not bunches of 
 holly and mistletoe such as are known in England, but roses, 
 'ilies, jonquils, and sweet daffodils. The shops were 
 brilliant with bouquets and baskets of fruits and flowers ; a 
 glittering show of ktre7ines, or gifts to suit all ages and con- 
 ditions, were set forth in tempting array, from a box of 
 bonbons costing one franc to a jeweled tiara worth a million, 
 while in many of the windows were displayed models of the 
 " Bethlehem," with babe Jesus lying in his manger, for 
 the benefit of the round-eyed children — who, after staring 
 fondly at His waxen image for some time, would run off 
 hand in hand to the nearest church where the usual Christmas 
 crfche was arranged, and there kneeling down, would jegin to 
 implore their " dear little Jesus," their " own little brother," 
 not to forget them, with a simplicity of belief that was as 
 touching as it was unaffected. 
 
 I am told that in England the principle sight on Christmas- 
 eve are the shops of the butchers and poulterers hung with the 
 dead carcases of animals newly slaughtered, in whose mouths 
 are thrust bunches of prickly holly, at which agreeable specta- 
 cle the passers-by gape with gluttonous approval. Surely there 
 is nothing graceful about such a commemoration of the birth 
 of Christ as this ? nothing picturesque, nothing poetic ? — noth- 
 ing even orthodox, for Christ was born in the East, and the 
 Orientals are very small eaters, and are particularly sparing in 
 the use of meat. One wonders what such an unusual display 
 of vulgar victuals has to do with the coming of the Saviour, 
 ivho arrived among us in such poor estate that even a decent 
 roof was denied to Him. Perhaps, though, the English people 
 read their gospels in a way of their own, and understood that 
 the wise men of the East, who are supposed to have brought 
 the Divine Child symbolic gifts of gold, frankincense, and 
 myrrh, really brought joints of beef, turkeys, and " plum- 
 pudding," that vile and indigestible mixture at which an Ital- 
 ian shrugs his shoulders in visible disgust. There is some- 
 thing barbaric, I suppose, in the British customs still — some- 
 thing that reminds one of their ancient condition when the 
 Romans conquered them — when their supreme idea of enjoy- 
 ment was to have an ox roasted whole before them whil§ 
 
190 
 
 VENDETTA ! 
 
 they drank " wassail " till they groveled under their own 
 tables in a worse condition than overfed swine. Coaise and 
 vulgar plenty is still the leading characteristic at the dinners 
 of English or American parvenus ; they have scarcely any 
 idea of the refinements that can be imparted to the prosaic 
 necessity of eating — of the many little graces of the table 
 that are understood in part by the French, but that perhaps 
 never reach such absolute perfection of taste and skill as at 
 the banquets of a cultured and clever Italian noble. Some 
 of these are veritable " feasts of the gods," and would do 
 honor to the fabled Olympus, and such a one I had prepared 
 for Guido Ferrari as a greeting to him on his return from 
 Rome — a feast of welcome and — farewell ! 
 
 All the resources of the hotel at which I stayed had been 
 brought into requisition. The chef, a famous cordon bleu, had 
 transferred the work of the usual table d'hote to his underlings, 
 and had bent the powers of his culinary intelligence solely on 
 the production of the magnificent dinner I had ordered. The 
 landlord, in spite of himself, broke into exclamations of won- 
 der and awe as he listened to and wrote down my commands 
 for different wines of the rarest kinds and choicest vintages. 
 The servants rushed hither and thither to obey my various be- 
 hests, with looks of immense importance ; the head waiter, a 
 superb official who prided himself on his artistic taste, took the 
 laying-out of the table under his entire superintendence, and 
 nothing was talked of or thought of for the time but the 
 grandeur of my proposed entertainment. 
 
 About six o'clock I sent my carriage down to the railway 
 station to meet Ferrari as I had arranged ; and then, at my 
 landlord's invitation, I went to survey the stage that was pre- 
 pared for one important scene of my drama — to see if the 
 scenery, side-lights, and general effects were all in working 
 order. To avoid disarranging my own apartments, I had 
 shosen for my dinner-party a room on the ground-floor of the 
 hotel, which was often let out for marriage-breakfasts and 
 other purposes of the like kind ; it was octagonal in shape, not 
 too large, and I had had it most exquisitely decorated for the 
 occasion. The walls were hung with draperies of gold-colored 
 silk and crimson velvet, interspersed here and therewith long 
 mirrors, which were ornamented with crystal candelabra, in 
 which twinkled hundreds of lights under rose-tinted glass 
 shades. At the back of the room, a miniature conservatory 
 was displayed to view, full of rare ferns and subtly perfumed 
 exotics, in the center of which a fountain rose and fell with 
 
VENDETTA ! I$I 
 
 tegular and melodious murmur. Here, later on, a band ot 
 stringed instruments and a choir of boys' voices were to be 
 stationed, so that sweet music might be heard and felt without 
 the performers being visible. One, and one only, of the long 
 French windows of the room was left uncurtained, it was sim- 
 ply draped with velvet as one drapes a choice picture, and 
 through it the eyes rested on a perfect view of the Bay of 
 Naples, white with the wintery moonlight. 
 
 The dinner-table, laid for fifteen persons, glittered with 
 sumptuous appointments of silver, Venetian glass, and the 
 rarest flowers ; the floor was carpeted with velvet pile, in which 
 some grains of ambergris had been scattered, so that in walking 
 the feet sunk, as it were, into a bed of moss rich with the odors 
 of a thousand spring blossoms. The very chairs wherein my 
 guests were to seat themselves were of a luxurious shape and 
 softly stuffed, so that one could lean back in them or recline 
 at ease — in short, everything was arranged with a lavish 
 splendor almost befitting the banquet of an eastern monarch, 
 and yet with such accurate taste that there was no detail one 
 could have wished omitted, 
 
 I was thoroughly satisfied, but as I know what an unwise 
 plan it is to praise servants too highly for doing well what they 
 art expressly paid to do, I intimated my satisfaction to my 
 landlord by a mere careless nod and smile of approval. He, 
 who waited on my every gesture with abject humility, received 
 this sign of condescension with as much delight as though it 
 had come from the king himself, and I could easily see that 
 the very fact of my showing no enthusiasm at the result of his 
 labors, made him consider me a greater man than ever. I 
 now went to my own apartments to don rny evening attire ; I 
 found Vincenzo brushing every speck of dust from my dress- 
 coat with careful nicety — he had already arranged the other 
 articles of costume neatly on my bed ready for wear. I un- 
 locked a dressing-case and took from thence three studs, each 
 one formed of a single brilliant of rare clearness and luster, 
 and handed them to him to fix in my shirt-front. While he 
 was polishing these admiringly on his coat-sleeve I watched 
 him earnestly — then I suddenly addressed him. 
 
 " Vincenzo ! " He started. 
 
 " Eccellenza ? " 
 
 " To-night you will stand behind my chair and assist in serv* 
 ing the wine." 
 
 " Yes, eccellenza." 
 
 " You will," I continued, " attend particularly to Signoi 
 
192 VENDETTA ! 
 
 Ferrari, who will sit at my right hand. Take care that his 
 glass is never empty." 
 
 "Yes, eccellenza." 
 
 " Whatever may be said or done," I went on, quietly, " you 
 will show no sign of alarm or surprise. From the commence- 
 ment of dinner till I tell you to move, remember your place 
 is fixed by me." 
 
 The honest fellow looked a little puzzled, but replied as 
 before : 
 
 " Yes, eccellenza." 
 
 I smiled, and advancing, laid my hand on his arm. 
 
 " How about the pistols, Vincenzo ? " 
 
 "They are cleaned and ready for use, eccellenza," he 
 replied. " I have placed them in your cabinet." 
 
 u That is well ! " I said with a satisfied gesture. " You can 
 leave me and arrange the salon for the reception of my 
 friends." 
 
 He disappeared, and I busied myself with my toilet, about 
 which I was for once unusually particular. The conventional 
 dress-suit is not very becomings yet there are a few men here 
 and there who look well in it, and who, in spite of similarity 
 in attire, will never be mistaken for waiters. Others there are 
 who, passable in appearance when clad in their ordinary gar- 
 ments, reach the very acme of plebeianism when they clothe 
 themselves in the unaccommodating evening-dress. Fortu- 
 nately, I happened to be one of the former class — the sober 
 black, the broad white display of starched shirt-front and neat 
 tie became me, almost too well I thought. It would have been 
 better for my purposes if I could have feigned an aspect of 
 greater age and weightier gravity. I had scarcely finished my 
 toilet when the rumbling of wheels in the court -yard outside 
 made the hot blood rush to my face, and my heart beat with 
 feverish excitement. I left my dressing-room, however, with 
 a composed countenance and calm step, and entered my pri- 
 vate salon just as its doors were flung open and " Signor 
 Ferrari " was announced. He entered smiling — his face was 
 alight with good humor and glad anticipation — he looked 
 handsomer than usual. 
 
 " Ecconii qua /" he cried, seizing my hands enthusiastically 
 in his own. " My dear conte, I am delighted to see you ! 
 What an excellent fellow you are ! A kind of amiable 
 Arabian Nights genius, who occupies himself in making 
 mortals happy. And how are you ? You look remarkabh 
 well!" 
 
VEHBBTTA t igg 
 
 * 1 Can return the compliment," I said, gayly. M You are 
 «ore of an Antinous than ever." 
 
 He laughed, well pleased, and sat down, drawing off his 
 gloves and loosening his traveling overcoat. 
 
 " Well, I suppose plenty of cash puts a man in good humor, 
 and therefore in good condition," he replied. " But my dear 
 fellow, you are dressed for dinner — quel preux chevalier ! I 
 am positively unfit to be in your company ! You insisted that 
 I should come to you directly, on my arrival, but I really must 
 change my apparel. Your man took my valise ; in it are my 
 dress-clothes — I shall not be ten minutes putting them on." 
 
 " Take a glass of wine first," I said, pouring out some of 
 his favorite Montepulcianc " There is plenty of time. It is 
 barely seven, and we do not dine till eight. He took the 
 wine from my hand find smiled, I returned the smile, add- 
 Ing, " It gives me great pleasure to receive you, Ferrari I I 
 have been impatient for your return — almost as impatient 
 as — " He paused in the act of drinking, and his eyes flashed 
 delightedly. 
 
 " As she has ? Piccinina I How I long to see her againt 
 ( swear to you, amico, I should have gone straight to the Villa 
 Romani had I obeyed my own impulse — but I had promised 
 you to come here, and, on the whole, the evening will do as 
 well " — and jie laughed with a covert meaning in his laugh- 
 ter — " perhaps better ! " 
 
 My hands clinched, but I said with forced gayety : 
 
 " Ma certamente / The evening will be much better 1 Is it 
 not Byron who says that women, like stars, look best at night ? 
 You will find her the same as ev^r, perf ect\y well and perfectly 
 charming. It must be her pun. and canc.id soul that makes 
 her face so fair ! It may be a relief to your mind to know 
 that I am the only man she has allowed to visit her during 
 your absence !! " 
 
 " Thank God for that i " cried Ferrari, devoutly, as he 
 tossed off his wine. u And no T v tell me, my dear conte, what 
 bacchanalians are coming to-n ght ? Per bio, after all I am 
 more in the humor for dinner *han love-making ! " 
 
 I burst out laughing harshly , " Of course ! Every sensi- 
 ble man p-efers good eating e\ en to good women ! Who are 
 my guests you ask ? I believe you know them all. First, 
 there is ine Duca Filippo Marina." 
 
 " By Heaven ! " interrupted Guido. "An absolute gentle- 
 man, who by his manner seeirm to challenge the universe 10 
 iisprove his dignity 1 Can he unbend so far as to partake of 
 
*94 VENDETTA \ 
 
 food in public T My dear conte, you should have asked him 
 that question ! " 
 
 " Then," I went on, not heeding this interruption, " Signo? 
 Fraschetti and tne Marchese Giulano." 
 
 u Giulano drinks deep ! " laughed Ferrari, u and should hs 
 mix his wines, you will find him ready to stab all the waiters 
 before the dinner is half over." 
 
 " In mixing wines," I returned, coolly, " he will but imitate 
 your example, caro mio" 
 
 " Ah, but I can stand it I " he said " He cannot I Few 
 Neapolitans are like me ! " 
 
 I watched him narrowly, and went on with the list of my 
 invited guests. 
 
 " After these, comes the Capitano Luigi Freccia." 
 
 " What 1 the raging fire-eater ? " exclaimed Guido. " He 
 who at every second word raps out a pagan or Christian oath, 
 and cannot for his life tell any difference between the two I " 
 
 " And the illustrious gentleman Crispiano Dulci and 
 Antonio Biscardi, artists like yourself," I continued. 
 
 He frowned slightly — then smiled. 
 
 " I wish them good appetites * Time was when I envied 
 their skill — now I can afford to be generous. They are wel- 
 come to the whole field of art as far as I am concerned. I 
 have said farewell to the brush and palette — I shall never 
 paint again." 
 
 True enough! I thought, eying the shapely white hand 
 with which he just then stroked his dark mustache ; the same 
 hand on which my family diamond ring glittered like a star 
 He looked up suddenly. 
 
 " Go on, conte ! I am all impatience. Who come next ? " 
 
 " More fire-eaters, I suppose you will call them," I an- 
 swered, " and French fire-eaters, too. Monsieur le Marquis 
 D'Avencourt, and lebeau Capitaine Eugene de Hamal." 
 
 Ferrari looked astonished. " Per Bacco I " he exclaimed. 
 14 Two noted Paris duelists 1 Why — what need have you of 
 such valorous associates ? I confess your choice surprises 
 me." 
 
 " I understood them to be your friends," I said, composed 
 iy. " If you remember, j><?2/ introduced me to them. I know 
 nothing of the gentlemen beyond that they appear to be 
 pleasant fellows and good talkers. As for their reputed skill 
 I am inclined to set that down to a mere rumor, at any rate* 
 my dinner-table will scarcely provide a tteld for the display 
 of swordsmanship." 
 
VENDETTA I Bf$ 
 
 Guido laughed. " Well, no ! but these fellows would like 
 to make it one — why, they will pick a quarrel for the mere 
 lifting of an eyebrow. And the rest of your company ? " 
 
 " Are the inseparable brother sculptors Carlo and Francesco 
 Respetti, Chevalier Mancini, scientist and man of letters, 
 Luziano Salustri, poet and musician, and the fascinating 
 Marchese Ippolito Gualdro, whose conversation, as you know, 
 is more entrancing than the voice of Adelina Patti. I have 
 Dnly to add," and I smiled half mockingly, " the name of Sig- 
 ner Guido Ferrari, true friend and loyal lover — and the party 
 is complete." 
 
 " Altro / Fifteen in all including yourself," said Ferrari, 
 gayly, enumerating them on his fingers. " Per la madre di 
 Dio t With such a goodly company and a host who enter* 
 tains en roi we shall pass a merry time of it. And did you, 
 amico, actually organize this banquet, merely to welcome back 
 so unworthy a person as myself ? " 
 
 " Solely and entirely for that reason," I replied. 
 
 He jumped up from his chair and clapped his two hands 
 on my shoulders. 
 
 " A la bonne heure / But why, in the name of the saints OS 
 the devil, have you taken such a fancy to me ? " 
 
 " Why have I taken such a fancy to you ? " I repeated, slow- 
 ly. " My dear Ferrari, I am surely not alone in my admira- 
 tion for your high qualities ! Does not every one like you ? 
 Are you not a universal favorite ? Do you not tell me that 
 your late friend the Count Romani held you as the dearest to 
 him in the world after his wife ? Ebbene / Why underrate 
 yourself ? " 
 
 He let his hands fall slowly from my shoulders and a look 
 of pain contracted his features. After a little silence he said : 
 
 " Fabio again ! How his name and memory haunt me ! I 
 told you he was a fool — it was part of his folly that he loved 
 me too well — perhaps. Do you know I have thought of him 
 very much lately ? " 
 
 " Indeed ? " and I feigned to be absorbed in fixing a star- 
 iike japonica in my button-hole. " How is that ? " 
 
 A grave and meditative look softened the usually defiant 
 brilliancy of his eyes. 
 
 " I saw my uncle die," he continued, speaking in a low 
 tone. " He was an old man and had very little strength left, 
 —yet his battle with death was horrible — horrible I I see him 
 yet — his yellow convulsed face — his twisted limbs — his daw- 
 Uke hands tearing at t&e empty air — then the ghastly grim and 
 
196 VENDETIA I 
 
 dropped jaw — the wide-open glazed eyes— pshaw ! it sickened 
 me!" 
 
 " Well, well I " I said in a soothing way, still busying my- 
 self with the arrangement of my button-hole, and secretly 
 wondering what new emotion was at work in the volatile 
 mind of my victim. " No doubt it was distressing to witness 
 —but you could not have been very sorry — he was an old 
 man, and, though it is a platitude not worth repeating — we 
 must all die." 
 
 " Sorry ! " exclaimed Ferrari, talking almost more to him- 
 self than to me. " I was glad ! He was an old scoundrel, 
 deeply dyed in every sort of social villainy. No — I was not 
 sorry, only as I watched him in his frantic struggle, fighting 
 furiously for each fresh gasp of breath — I thought — I know 
 not why — of Fabio." 
 
 Profoundly astonished, but concealing my astonishment 
 under an air of indifference, I began to laugh. 
 
 " Upon my word, Ferrari — pardon me for saying so, but 
 the air of Rome seems to have somewhat obscured your 
 mind ! I confess I cannot follow your meaning." 
 
 He sighed uneasily. " I .dare say not ! I scarce can 
 follow it myself. But if it was so hard for an old man to 
 writhe himself out of life, what must it have been for Fabio ! 
 We were students together ; we used to walk with our arms 
 round each other's necks like school-girls, and he was young 
 and full of vitality — physically stronger, too, than X am. He 
 must have battled for life with every nerve and sinew stretched 
 to almost breaking." He stopped and shuddered. "By 
 Heaven ! death should be made easier for us 1 It is a fright- 
 ful thing ! " 
 
 A contemptuous pity arose in me. Was he coward as well 
 as traitor ? I touched him lightly on the arm. 
 
 " Excuse me, my young friend, if I say frankly that your 
 dismal conversation is slightly fatiguing, I cannot accept it 
 as a suitable preparation for dinner ! And permit me to re- 
 mind you that you have still to dress." 
 
 The gentle satire of my tone made him look up and smile. 
 His face cleared, and he passed his hand over his forehead, 
 as though he swept it free of some unpleasant thought. 
 
 " I believe I am nervous," he said with a half laugh. " For 
 the last few hours I have had all sorts of uncomfortable pre- 
 sentiments and forebodings." 
 
 " No wonder ! " I returned carelessly, " with such a spectacle 
 as you have described before the eyes of your memory. The 
 
VENDETTA I 19 
 
 Eternal City savors somewhat disagreeably of graves. Shake 
 the dust of the Caesars from your feet, and enjoy your life, 
 while it lasts ! " 
 
 " Excellent advice ! " he said, smiling, " and not difficuh 
 to follow. Now to attire for the festival. Have I your per 
 mission ? " 
 
 I touched the bell which summoned Vincenzo, and bade 
 vrim wait on Signor Ferrari's orders. Guido disappeared 
 under his escort, giving me a laughing nod of salutation as 
 he left the room. I watched his retiring figure with a strange 
 pitifulness — the first emotion of the kind that had awakened 
 »n me for him since I learned his treachery. His allusion to 
 that time when we had been students together — when we 
 had walked with arms round each other's necks " like school- 
 girls," as he said, had touched me more closely than I cared 
 to realize. It was true, we had been happy then— two care- 
 less youths with all the world like an untrodden race-course 
 before us. She had not then darkened the heaven of our 
 confidence ; she had not come with her false fair face to 
 make of me a blind, doting madman, and to transform him 
 into a liar and hypocrite. It was all her fault, all the misery 
 and horror ; she was the blight on our lives ; she merited the 
 heaviest punishment, and she would receive it. Yet, would 
 to God we had neither of us ever seen her ! Her beauty, 
 like a sword, had severed the bonds of friendship that after 
 all, when it does exist between two men, is better and braver 
 than the love of woman. However, all regrets were unavail- 
 ing now ; the evil was done, and there was no undoing it 
 I had little time left me for reflection ; each moment that 
 passed brought me nearer to the end I had planned and 
 foreseen. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 At about a quarter to eight my guests began to arrive, and 
 one by one they all came in save two — the brothers Respetti. 
 While we were awaiting them, Ferrari entered in evening-dress, 
 with the conscious air of a handsome man who knows he is 
 looking his best. I readily admitted his charm of manner ; 
 had I not myself been subjugated and fascinated by it in the 
 old happy, foolish days ? He was enthusiastically greeted and 
 welcomed back to Naples by all the gentlemen assembled, 
 tnany of whom were his own particular friends. They em- 
 
braced him in the impressionable style common to Italians, 
 with the exception of the stately Duca di Marina, who merely 
 bowed courteously, and inquired if certain families of dis 
 tinction whom he named had yet arrived in Rome for the 
 winter season. Ferrari was engaged in replying to these 
 questions with his usual grace and ease and fluency, when a 
 note was brought to me marked " Immediate." It contained 
 a profuse and elegantly worded apology from Carlo Respetti, 
 who regretted deeply that an unforeseen matter of business 
 would prevent himself and his brother from having the in- 
 estimable honor and delight of dining with me that evening. 
 I thereupon rang my bell as a sign that the dinner need 
 no longer be delayed ; and, turning to those assembled, I 
 announced to them the unavoidable absence of two of the 
 party. 
 
 44 A pity Francesco could not have come," said Captain 
 Freccia, twirling the ends of his long mustachios. " He 
 loves good wine, and, better still, good company." 
 
 44 Caro Capitano ! " broke in the musical voice of the Mar- 
 chese Gualdro, " you know that our Francesco goes nowhere 
 without his beloved Carlo. Carlo cannot come — altro ! 
 Francesco will not. Would that all men were such brothers ! " 
 
 44 If they were," laughed Luziano Salustri, rising from the 
 piano where he hs d been playing softly to himself, " half the 
 world would be thrown out of employment. You, for in- 
 stance," turning to the Marquis D' Avencourt, " would scarce 
 know what to do with your time." 
 
 The marquis smiled and waved his hand with a depreca- 
 tory gesture — that hand, by the by, was remarkably small 
 and delicately formed — it looked almost fragile. Yet the 
 strength and suppleness of D'Avencourt's wrist was reputed 
 to be prodigious by those who had seen him handle the 
 sword, whether in play or grim earnest. 
 
 " It is an impossible dream," he said, in reply to the re- 
 marks of Gualdro and Salustri, " that idea of all men frater- 
 nizing together in one common pig-sty of equality. Look at 
 the differences of caste ! Birth, breeding and education 
 make of man that high-mettled, sensitive animal known as 
 gentleman, and not all the socialistic theories in the world can 
 force him down on the same level with the rough boor, 
 whose flat nose and coarse features announce him as plebeian 
 even before one hears the tone of his voice. We cannot 
 help these things. I do not think we would help them even 
 O. we could" , ^ ' 
 
» -"""' '" VENDETTA} 19^ 
 
 *You are quite right,'' said Ferrari. "You cannot put 
 race-horses to draw the plow. I have always imagined that 
 the first quarrel — the Cain and Abel affair — must have oc- 
 curred through some difference of caste as well as jeal- 
 ousy — for instance, perhaps Abel was a negro and Cain a 
 white man, or vice versa ; which would account for the antip- 
 athy existing between the races to this day,," 
 
 The Duke di Marina coughed a stately cough, and 
 shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " That first quarrel," he said, "as related in the Bible, was 
 exceedingly vulgar. It must have been a kind of prize-fight. 
 Ce n 'etait pas fln . ' ' 
 
 Gualdro laughed delightedly. 
 
 " So like you, Marina ! " he exclaimed, " to say that ! I 
 sympathize with your sentiments ! Fancy the butcher Abei 
 piling up his reeking carcasses and setting them on fire, 
 while on the other side stood Cain the green-grocer frizzling 
 his cabbages, turnips, carrots, and other vegetable matter ! 
 What a spectacle ! The gods of Olympus would have sick- 
 ened at it ! However, the Jewish Deity, or rather, the well- 
 fed priest who represented him, showed his good taste in the 
 matter ; I myself prefer the smell of roast meat to the rather 
 disagreeable odor of scorching vegetables ! " 
 
 We laughed — and at that moment the door was thrown 
 open, and the head-waiter announced in solemn tones befit- 
 ting his dignity — 
 
 " Le diner de Monsieur le Conte est servi ! " 
 
 I at once led the way to the banqueting-room — my guests 
 followed gayly, talking and jesting among themselves. They 
 were all in high good humor, none of them had as yet noticed 
 the fatal blank caused by the absence of the brothers Re- 
 spetti. I had — for the number of my guests was now thirteen 
 instead of fifteen. Thirteen at table ! I wondered if any of 
 the company were superstitious ? Ferrari was not, I knew — 
 unless his nerves had been latterly shaken by witnessing the 
 death of his uncle. At any rate, I resolved to say nothing 
 that could attract the attention of my guests to the ill-omened 
 circumstance ; if any one should notice it, it would be easy to 
 make light of it and of all similar superstitions. I myself 
 was the one most affected by it — it had for me a curious and 
 fatal significance. I was so occupied with the consideration 
 of it that I scarcely attended to the words addressed to me 
 by the Duke di Marina, who, walking beside me, seemed dis- 
 posed to converse with more familiarity than was his usual 
 
200 VENDETTA * 
 
 custom. We reached the door of the dining-room ; which at 
 our approach was thrown wide open, and delicious strains o! 
 music met our ears as we entered. Low murmurs of aston- 
 ishment and admiration broke from all the gentlemen as 
 they viewed the sumptuous scene before them. I pretended 
 not to hear their eulogies, as I took my seat at the head of 
 the table, with Guido Ferrari on my right and the Duke d» 
 Marina on my left. The music sounded louder and more 
 triumphant, and while all the company were seating them 
 selves in the places assigned to them, a choir of young fresh 
 voices broke forth into a Neapolitan " madrigale " — which as 
 Car as I can translate it ran as follows : 
 
 " Welcome the festal hour ! 
 Pour the red wine into cups of gold ! 
 Health to the men who are strong and bold 1 
 
 Welcome the festal hour ! 
 Waken the echoes with riotous mirth — 
 Cease to remember the sorrows of earth 
 
 In the joys of the festal hour ! 
 Wine is the monarch of laughter and light, 
 Death himself shall be merry to-night 1 
 
 Hail to the festal hour ! " 
 
 An enthusiastic clapping of hands rewarded this effort on 
 the part of the unseen vocalists, and the music having ceased, 
 conversation became general 
 
 " By heaven ! " exclaimed Ferrari, " if this Olympian 
 carouse is meant as a welcome to me, amico, all I can say is 
 that I do not deserve it. Why, it is more fit for the welcome 
 of one king to his neighbor sovereign ! " 
 
 "Ebbene!" I said. "Are there any better kings than 
 honest men ? Let us hope we are thus far worthy of each 
 other's esteem." 
 
 He flashed a bright look of gratitude upon me and was 
 silent, listening to the choice and complimentary phrases 
 uttered by the Duke di Marina concerning the exquisite taste 
 displayed in the arrangement of the table. 
 
 " You have no doubt traveled much in the East, conte," 
 said this nobleman. " Your banquet reminds me of an 
 Oriental romance I once read, called ' Vathek.' " 
 
 " Exactly ! " exclaimed Guido, " I think Oliva must be 
 Vathek himself ! " 
 
 " Scarcely ! " I said, smiling coldly. " 1" lay no claim to 
 supernatural experiences. The realities of life are sufficient- 
 ly wonderful for me," 
 
VMNDETtAi ton 
 
 Antonio Biscardi the painter, a refined, gentle-featured 
 man, looked toward us and said modestly : 
 
 u I think you are right, conte. The beauties of nature 
 and of humanity are so varied and profound that were it not 
 for the inextinguishable longing after immortality which has 
 been placed in every one of us, I think we should be per- 
 fectly satisfied with this world as it is." 
 
 " You speak like an artist and a man of even tempera 
 ment," broke in the Marchese Gualdro, who had finished his 
 soup quickly in order to be able to talk — talking being his 
 chief delight. " For me, I am never contented. I never 
 have enough of anything ! That is my nature. When I see 
 lovely flowers, I wish more of them — when I behold a fine 
 sunset, I desire many more such sunsets — when I look upon 
 a lovely woman " 
 
 " You would have lovely women ad infinitum / " laughed the 
 French Capitaine de Hamal. "En vkritk, Gualdro, you 
 should have been a Turk ! " 
 
 " And why not ? " demanded Gualdro. " The Turks are 
 very sensible people — they know how to make coffee better 
 than we do. And what more fascinating than a harem ? It 
 must be like a fragrant hot-house, where one is free to wander 
 every day, sometimes gathering a gorgeous lily, sometimes a 
 simple violet — sometimes " 
 
 " A thorn ? " suggested Salustri. 
 
 " Well, perhaps ! " laughed the Marchese. " Yet one 
 would run the risk of that for the sake of a perfect rose." 
 
 Chevalier Mancini, who wore in his button-hole the decora- 
 tion of the Legion d'Honneur, looked up — he was a thin man 
 with keen eyes and a shrewd face which, though at a first 
 glance appeared stern, could at the least provocation break 
 up into a thousand little wrinkles of laughter. 
 
 " There is undoubtedly something entrainant about the 
 idea," he observed, in his methodical way. " I have always 
 fancied that marriage as we arrange it is a great mistake." 
 
 "And that is why you have never tried it?" queried 
 Ferrari, looking amused. 
 
 " Certissimamente / " and the chevalier's grim countenance 
 began to work with satirical humor. " I have resolved that 
 I will never be bound over by the law to kiss only one woman. 
 As matters stand, I can kiss them all if I like." 
 
 A shout of merriment and cries of " Oh ! oh ! " greeted this 
 remark, which Ferrari, however, did not seem inclined to take 
 in good part 
 
jfctt VENDETTA! 
 
 * All ? " he said, with a dubious air. " You mean all ex 
 lept the married ones ? " 
 
 The chevalier put on his spectacles, and surveyed him with 
 i sort of comic severity. 
 
 " When I said all, I meant all," he returned — " the married 
 ones in particular. They, poor things, need such attentions 
 —and often invite them — why not ? Their husbands have 
 most likely ceased to be amorous after the first months of 
 marriage." 
 
 I burst out laughing. " You are right, Mancini," I said , 
 '* and even if the husbands are fools enough to continue their 
 gallantries they deserve to be duped — and they generally 
 are! Come, amico f" I added, turning to Ferrari, "those 
 are your own sentiments — you have often declared them to 
 me." 
 
 He smiled uncomfortably, and his brows contracted. I 
 could easily perceive that he was annoyed. To change the 
 tone of the conversation I gave a signal for the music to 
 recommence, and instantly the melody of a slow, voluptuous 
 Hungarian waltz-measure floated through the room. The 
 dinner was now fairly on its way ; the appetites of my guests 
 were stimulated and tempted by the choicest and most savory 
 viands, prepared with all the taste and intelligence a first-rate 
 chef can bestow on his work, and good wine flowed freely. 
 
 Vincenzo obediently following my instructions, stood be- 
 hind my chair, and seldom moved except to refill Ferrari's 
 glass, and occasionally to proffer some fresh vintage to the 
 Duke di Marina. He, however, was an abstemious and care- 
 ful man, and followed the good example shown by the wisest 
 Italians, who never mix their wines. He remained faithful 
 ao the first beverage he had selected — a specially fine Chianti, 
 of which he partook freely without its causing the slightest 
 Hush to appear on his pale aristocratic features. Its warm 
 and mellow flavor did but brighten his eyes and loosen his 
 tongue, inasmuch that he became almost as elegant a talker 
 as the Marchese Gualdro. This latter, who scarce had a scudo 
 \o call his own, and who dined sumptuously every day at 
 other people's expense for the sake of the pleasure his com- 
 pany afforded, was by this time entertaining every one near 
 him by the most sparkling stories and witty pleasantries. 
 
 The merriment increased as the various courses were 
 sei-ved ; shouts of laughter frequently interrupted the loud 
 DUZ2 of conversation, mingling with the clinking of glasses 
 %nd clattering of porcelain. Every now and then might be 
 
VENDETTA I 203 
 
 heard the smooth voice of Captain Freccia rolling out his 
 favorite oaths with the sonority and expression of a primo 
 teiwre; sometimes the elegant French of the Marquis D'Aven- 
 court, with his high, sing-song Parisian accent, rang out above 
 the voices of the others ; and again, the choice Tuscan of the 
 poet Luziano Salustri rolled forth in melodious cadence as 
 though he were chanting lines from Dante or Ariosto, instead 
 of talking lightly on indifferent matters. I accepted my share 
 in the universal hilarity, thongh I principally divided my con- 
 versation between Ferrari and the duke, paying to both, but 
 specially to Ferrari, that absolute attention which is the 
 greatest compliment a host can bestow on those whom he 
 undertakes to entertain. 
 
 We had reached that stage of the banquet when the game was 
 about to be served — the invisible choir of boys' voices had just 
 completed an enchanting stornello with an accompaniment 
 of mandolines — when a stillness, strange and unaccountable, 
 fell upon the company — a pause — an ominous hush, as though 
 some person supreme in authority had suddenly entered the 
 room and commanded " Silence ! " No one seemed disposed 
 to speak or to move, the very footsteps of the waiters were 
 muffled in the velvet pile of the carpets — no sound was heard 
 but the measured plash of the fountain that played among 
 the ferns and flowers. The moon, shining frostily white 
 through the one uncurtained window, cast a long pale green 
 ray, like the extended arm of an appealing ghost, against one 
 side of the velvet hangings — a spectral effect which was 
 heightened by the contrast of the garish glitter of the waxen 
 tapers. Each man looked at the other with a sort of uncom- 
 fortable embarrassment, and somehow, though I moved my 
 Ups in an endeavor to speak and thus break the spell, I was 
 at a loss, and could find no language suitable to the moment. 
 Ferrari toyed with his wine-glass mechanically — the duke 
 appeared absorbed in arranging the crumbs beside his plate 
 into little methodical patterns ; the stillness seemed to last 
 so long that it was like a suffocating heaviness in the air. 
 Suddenly Vincenzo, in his office of chief butler, drew the cork 
 of a champagne-bottle with a loud-sounding pop ! We all 
 started as though a pistol had been fired in our ears, and 
 the Marchese Gualdro burst out laughing. 
 
 " Corpo di Baceo /" he cried. " At last you have awakened 
 from sleep ! Were you all struck dumb, amici, that you 
 stared at the table-cloth so persistently and with such admi- 
 rable gravity ? May Saint Anthony and his pig preserve me* 
 
204 VENDETTA i — 
 
 but for the time I fancied I was attending a banquet on th' 
 wrong side of the Styx, and that you, my present companions, 
 were all dead men ! " 
 
 " And that idea made you also hold your tongue, which is 
 quite an unaccountable miracle in its way," laughed Luziano 
 .Salustri. " Have you never heard the pretty legend that 
 attaches to such an occurrence as a sudden silence in the midst 
 oi high festivity ? An angel enters, bestowing his benedic- 
 iion as he passes through." 
 
 " That story is more ancient than the church," said Cheva- 
 lier Mancini. " It is an exploded theory — for we have ceased 
 to believe in angels- — we call them women instead." 
 
 "Bravo, mon vieux gaillard /" cried Captain de Hamal. 
 M Your sentiments are the same as mine, with a very trifling 
 difference. You believe women to be angels — I know them 
 to be devils — mas ilrty agrfim pas entre les deux? We will 
 not quarrel over a word — a votre sa?ite, mon cher /" 
 
 And he drained his glass, nodding to Mancini, who fol- 
 lowed his example. 
 
 "Perhaps," laid the smooth, slow voice of Captain Frec- 
 cia, " our siler ce was caused by the instinctive conscious- 
 ness of some hing wrong with our party — a little inequality 
 ■ — which I d?.;e say our noble host has not thought it worth 
 while to mertion." 
 
 Every hcr»d was turned in his direction. " What do you 
 mean ? " " What inequality ? " " Explain yourself ! "chorused 
 several voices. 
 
 " Really it is a mere nothing," answered Freccia, lazily, 
 is he surveyed with the admiring air of a gourmet the dainty 
 portion of pheasant just placed before him. " I assure you, 
 only the uneducated would care two scudi about such a cir- 
 cumstance. The excellent brothers Respetti are to blame — 
 their absence to-night has caused — but why should I disturb 
 your equanimity ? / am not superstitious — ma, chi sa ? — ' 
 some of you may be." 
 
 " I see what you mean ! " interrupted Salustri, quickly. 
 M We are thirteen at table ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 At this announcement my guests looked furtively at each 
 other, and I could see they were counting up the fatal num- 
 ber ior themselves, They were undeniably clever, cultivated 
 
VENDETTA I 205 
 
 men of the world, but the superstitious element was in their, 
 blood, and all, with the exception perhaps of Freccia and the 
 ever-cool Marquis D'Avencourt, were evidently rendered un« 
 easy by the fact now discovered. On Ferrari it had a curi* 
 ous effect — he started violently and his face flushed. "Did* 
 volo /" he muttered, under his breath, and seizing his never* 
 empty glass, he swallowed its contents thirstily and quickly 
 at one gulp as though attacked by fever, and pushed awaj 
 his plate with a hand that trembled nervously. I, mean 
 while, raised my voice and addressed my guests cheerfully ! 
 " Our distinguished friend Salustri is perfectly right, gen* 
 tlemen. I myself noticed the discrepancy in our number 
 some time ago — but I knew that you were all advanced think- 
 ers, who had long since liberated yourselves from the tram- 
 mels of superstitious observances, which are the result of 
 priestcraft, and are now left solely to the vulgar. Therefore 
 I said nothing. The silly notion of any misfortune attend- 
 ing the number thirteen arose, as you are aware, out of the 
 story of the Last Supper, and children and women may pos- 
 sibly still give credence to the fancy that one out of thirteen 
 at table must be a traitor and doomed to die. But we men 
 know better. None of us here to-night have reason to put 
 ourselves in the position of a Christ or a Judas — we are all 
 good friends and boon companions, and I cannot suppose 
 for a moment that this little cloud can possibly affect you 
 seriously. Remember also that this is Christmas-eve, and 
 that according to the world's greatest poet, Shakespeare, 
 
 " * Then no planet strikes, 
 No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, 
 So hallowed and so gracious is the time.' n 
 
 A murmur of applause and a hearty clapping of hands re 
 warded this little speech, and the Marchese Gualdro sprung 
 to his feet — 
 
 " By Heaven ! " he exclaimed, " we are not a party of ter* 
 rifled old women to shiver on the edge of a worn-out omen I 
 Fill your glasses, signori ! More wine, garcon ! Per bacco J 
 if Judas Iscariot himself had such a feast as ours before he 
 hanged himself, he was not much to be pitied ! Hola amici * 
 To the health of our noble host, Conte Cesare Oliva ! " 
 
 He waved his glass in the air three times — every one fol- 
 lowed his example and drank the toast with enthusiasm. I 
 bowed my thanks and acknowledgments — and the supersti' 
 tious dread which at first had undoubtedly seized the com- 
 
iO& fEATDETTA ! 
 
 pany passed away quickly — the talking, the merriment, and 
 laughter were resumed, and soon it seemed as though the 
 untoward circumstance were entirely forgotten. Only Guido 
 Ferrari seemed still somewhat disturbed in his ~iind — but 
 even his uneasiness dissipated itself by degrees^ and heated 
 by the quantity of wine he had taken, he began to talk with 
 boastful braggartism of his many successful gallantries, and 
 related his most questionable anecdotes in such a manner as 
 to cause some haughty astonishment in the mind of the Duke 
 di Marina, who eyed him from time to time with ill-disguised 
 impatience that bordered on contempt. I, on the contrary, 
 listened to everything he said with urbane courtesy — I hu- 
 mored him and drew him out as much as possible — I smiled 
 complacently at his poor jokes and vulgar witticisms — and 
 when he said something that was more than usually outrage- 
 ous, I contented myself with a benevolent shake of my head, 
 and the mild remark ; 
 
 " Ah ! young blood ! young blood ! " uttered in a bland 
 fotto-voce. 
 
 The dessert was now served, and with it came the costly 
 wines which I had ordered to be kept back till then. Price- 
 less " Chateau Yquem," " Clos Vougeot," of the rarest vin- 
 tages, choice " Valpulcello " and an exceedingly superb 
 " Lacrima Cristi " — one after the other, these were tasted, 
 criticised, and heartily appreciated. There was also a very 
 unique brand of champagne costing nearly forty francs a 
 bottle, which was sparkling and mellow to the palate, but 
 iiery in quality. This particular beverage was so seductive 
 in flavor that every one partook of it freely, with the result 
 that the most discreet among the party now became the most 
 uproarious. Antonio Biscardi, the quiet and unobtrusive 
 painter, together with his fellow-student, Crispiano Dulci, 
 usually the shyest of young men, suddenly grew excited, and 
 uttered blatant nothings concerning their art, Captain 
 ^Freccia argued the niceties of sword-play with the Marquis 
 •D'Avencourt, both speakers illustrating their various points 
 by thrusting their dessert-knives skillfully into the pulpy 
 bodies of the peaches they had on their plates. Luziano 
 Salustri lay back at ease in his chair, his classic head reclin- 
 ing on the velvet cushions, and recited in low and measured 
 tones one of his own poems, caring little or nothing whether 
 his neighbors attended to him or not. The glib tongue of 
 the Marchese Gualdro ran on smoothly and incessantly ; 
 though he frequently lost the thread of his anecdotes and be 
 
^VENDETTA t 20f 
 
 came involved in a maze of contradictory assertions. The 
 
 rather large nose of the Chevalier Mancini reddened visibly 
 as he laughed joyously to himself at nothing in particular — 
 in short, the table had become a glittering whirlpool of ex^ 
 citement and feverish folly, which at a mere touch, or word 
 out of season, might rise to a raging storm of frothy dissen- 
 sion. The Duke di Marina and myself alone of all the com- 
 pany were composed as usual — he had resisted the champagn « 
 and as for me, I had let all the splendid wines go past me 
 ind had not taken more than two glasses of a mild Chianti. 
 
 I glanced keenly round the riotous board — I noted the 
 flushed faces and rapid gesticulations of my guests, and 
 listened to the Babel of conflicting tongues. I drew a long 
 breath as I looked — I calculated that in two or three minutes 
 at the very least I might throw down the trump card I had 
 held so patiently in my hand all the evening. 
 
 I took a close observation of Ferrari. He had edged his 
 chair a little away from mine, and was talking confidentially 
 to his neighbor, Captain de Hamal — his utterance was low 
 and thick, but yet I distinctly heard him enumerating in 
 somewhat coarse language the exterior charms of a woman— ■ 
 what woman I did not stop to consider — the burning idea 
 struck me that he was describing the physical perfections of 
 my wife to this De Hamal, a mere spadaccino, for whom there 
 was nothing sacred in heaven or earth. My blood rapid- 
 ly heated itself to boiling point — to this day I remember how 
 it throbbed in my temples, leaving my hands and feet icy 
 cold. I rose in my seat, and tapped on the table to call for 
 silence and attention — but for some time the noise of argu- 
 ment and the clatter of tongues were so great that I could 
 not make myself heard. The duke endeavored to second my 
 erforts, but in vain. At last Ferrari's notice was attracted— 
 he turned round, and seizing a dessert knife beat with it on 
 the table and on his own plate so noisily and persistently 
 that the loud laughter and conversation ceased suddenly;. 
 The moment had come — I raised my head, fixed my spec- 
 tacles more firmly over my eyes, and spoke in distinct and 
 steady tones, first of all stealing a covert glance toward 
 Ferrari. He had sunk back again lazily in his chair and 
 was lighting a cigarette. 
 
 " My friends," I said, meeting with a smile the inquiring 
 looks that were directed toward me, " I have presumed to 
 interrupt your mirth for a moment, not to restrain it> but 
 rather to give it a fresh impetus. I asked you all here to* 
 
ao8 VENDETTA ! 
 
 night, as you know, to honor me by your presence and t0 
 give a welcome to our mutual friend, Signor Guido Ferrari." 
 Here I was interrupted by a loud clapping of hands and 
 ejaculations of approval, while Ferrari himself murmured 
 affably between two puffs of his cigarette. " Tropp' onore, 
 atnicOy tropp"* o?iore /" I resumed, "This young and accom- 
 plished gentleman, who is, I believe, a favorite with you all, 
 has been compelled through domestic affairs to absent him 
 self from our circle for the past few weeks, and I think he 
 must himself be aware how much we have missed his pleas- 
 ant company. It will, however, be agreeable to you, as it 
 has been for me, to know that he has returned to Naples a 
 richer man than when he left it — that fortune has done him 
 
 i'ustice, and that with the possession of abundant wealth 
 ie is at last called upon to enjoy the reward due to his 
 merits ! " 
 
 Here there was more clapping of hands and exclamations 
 of pleasure, while those who were seated near Ferrari raised 
 their glasses and drank to his health with congratulations, all 
 of which courtesies he acknowledged by a nonchalant, self- 
 satisfied bow. I glanced at him again — how tranquil he 
 looked ! — reclining among the crimson cushions of his chair, 
 a brimming glass of champagne beside him, the cigarette be- 
 tween his lips, and his handsome face slightly upturned, 
 though his eyes rested half drowsily on the uncurtained 
 window through which the Bay of Naples was seen glittering 
 in the moonlight. 
 
 I continued : " It was, gentlemen, that you might welcome 
 and congratulate Signor Ferrari as you have done, that I as- 
 sembled you here to-night — or rather, let me say it was 
 partly the object of our present festivity — but there is yet 
 another reason which I shall now have the pleasure of ex- 
 plaining to you — a reason which, as it concerns myself and 
 my immediate happiness, will, I feel confident, secure your 
 sympathy and good wishes." < 
 
 This time every one was silent, intently following my words. 
 
 " What I am about to say," I went on, calmly, " may very 
 possibly surprise you. I have been known to you as a man 
 of few words, and, I fear, of abrupt and brusque manners " — 
 cries of " No, no ! " mingled with various complimentary as- 
 surances reached my ears from all sides of the table. I 
 bowed with a gratified air, and when silence was restored — 
 "At any rate you would not think me precisely the sort of man 
 to take a lady's fancy," A look of wonder and curiosity was 
 
row exchanged among my guests. Ferrari took his cigarette 
 
 out of his mouth and stared at me in blank astonishment. 
 
 " No," I went on, meditatively, " old as I am, and a half- 
 blind invalid besides, it seems incredible that any woman 
 should care to look at me more than twice en passant But 
 I have met — let me say with the Chevalier Mancini — an angel 
 — who has found me not displeasing to her, and — in short— 
 I am going to marry ! " 
 
 There was a pause. Ferrari raised himself slightly frou 
 his reclining position and seemed about to speak, but ap- 
 parently changing his mind he remained silent — his face had 
 somewhat paled. The momentary hesitation among my 
 guests passed quickly. All present, except Guido, broke out 
 into a chorus of congratulations, mingled with good-humored 
 jesting and laughter. 
 
 " Say farewell to jollity, conte ! " cried Chevalier Mancini ; 
 " once drawn along by the rustling music of a woman's gown, 
 no more such feasts as we have had to-night I" 
 
 And he shook his head with tipsy melancholy. 
 
 " By all the gods I " exclaimed Gualdro, " your news has 
 surprised me 1 I should have thought you were the last man 
 to give up liberty for the sake of a woman. One woman, too 1 
 Why, man, freedom could give you twenty ! " 
 
 " Ah I " murmured Salustri, softly and sentimentally, " but 
 the one perfect pearl — the one flawless diamond " 
 
 " Bah ! Salustri, caro mio, you are half asleep ! " returned 
 Gualdro. " 'Tis the wine talks, not you. Thou art con- 
 quered by the bottle, amico. You, the darling of all the 
 women in Naples, to talk of one! Buona notte, bambino /" 
 
 I still maintained my standing position, leaning my two 
 hands on the table before me. 
 
 " What our worthy Gualdro says," I went on, " is perfectly 
 true. I have been noted for my antipathy to the fair sex. I 
 know it. But when one of the loveliest among women cornea 
 aut of her way to tempt me — when she herself displays the 
 matchless store of her countless fascinations for my attrac- 
 tion — when she honors me by special favors and makes me 
 plainly aware that I am not too presumptuous in venturing to 
 ispire to her hand in marriage — what can I do bui accept with 
 a good grace the fortune thrown to me by Providence ? I 
 should be the most ungrateful of men were I to refuse so 
 precious a gift from Heaven, and I confess I feel no inclina 
 tion to reject what I consider to be the certainty of happi 
 aess. I therefore ask you all to £11 your glasses, and do m» 
 
 *4 
 
fijO YM&DRTTAl 
 
 the favor to drink to the health and happiness of my faro** 
 bride." 
 
 Gualdio sprung erect, his glass held high in the air ; every 
 man followed his example. Ferrari rose to his feet witfi 
 some unsteadiness, while the hand that held his full cham- 
 pagne glass trembled. 
 
 The Duke di Marina, with a courteous gesture, addressed 
 me : " You will, of course, honor us by disclosing the nam*? 
 of the fair lady whom we are prepared to toast with all be 
 fitting reverence ? " 
 
 " I was about to ask the same question," said Ferrari, in 
 hoarse accents — his lips were dry, and he appeared to have 
 some difficulty in speaking. " Possibly we are not acquainted 
 with her ? " 
 
 " On the contrary," I returned, eying him steadily with a 
 cool smile. " You all know her name well ! IHustrissimi 
 Signorif" and my voice rang out clearly — to the health of 
 my betrothed wife, the Contessa Romani!" 
 
 " Liar / " shouted Ferrari — and with all a madman's fury 
 he dashed his brimming glass of champagne full in my face I 
 In a second the wildest scene of confusion ensued. Every 
 man left his place at table and surrounded us. I stood erect 
 and perfectly calm — wiping with my handkerchief the little 
 runlets of wine that dripped from my clothing — the glass had 
 fallen at my feet, striking the table as it fell and splitting 
 itself to atoms. 
 
 " Are you drunk or mad, Ferrari ? " cried Captain de Hamal, 
 seizing him by the arm — " do you know what you have done ?" 
 
 Ferrari glared about him like a tiger at bay — his face was 
 flushed and swollen like that of a man in apoplexy — the 
 veins in his forehead stood out like knotted cords — his breath 
 came and went hard as though he had been running. He 
 turned his rolling eyes upon me, " Damn you ! " he muttered 
 through his clinched teeth — then suddenly raising his voice 
 to a positive shriek, he cried, " I will have your blood if 1 
 nave to tear your heart for it ! " — and he made an effort to 
 spring upon me. The Marquis D'Avencourt quietly caught 
 his other arm and held it as in a vise. 
 
 "Not so fast, not so fast, mon chert" he said, coolly. 
 "We are not murderers, we! What devil possesses you> 
 that you offer such unwarrantable insult to our host ? " 
 
 " Ask him/" replied Ferrari, fiercely, struggling to release 
 himself from the grasp of the two Frenchmen — " be knows 
 ■veil enough ! Ask kirn / " 
 
VENDETTA 1 ill 
 
 AU eyes were turned inquiring*/ upon me. I was f.' tit. 
 
 " The noble conte is really not bound to give any ex] <uia 
 tion," remarked Captain Freccia — " even admitting he ~*«re 
 able to do so." 
 
 " I assure you, my friends," I said, " I am ignorant of +h* 
 cause of this fracas, except that this young gentleman h>?>d 
 pretensions himself to the hand of the lady whose nai^t 
 affects him so seriously ! " 
 
 For a moment I thought Ferrari would have choked 
 
 " Pretensions — pretensions ! " he gasped. M Gran £H •■■ 
 Hear him ! — hear the miserable scoundrel ! * 
 
 " Ah, basta / " exclaimed Chevalier Mancini, scornfully- - 
 14 Is that all ? A mere bagatelle / Ferrari, you were wont * 
 be more sensible ! What! quarrel with an excellent frier ^ 
 for the sake of a woman who happens to prefer him to you 1 
 Ma ehe / Women are plentiful — friends are few." 
 
 " If," I resumed, still methodically wiping the stains <«< 
 wine from my coat and vest — " if Signor Ferrari's extraordi- 
 nary display of temper is a mere outcome of natural disap 
 pointment, I am willing to excuse it He is young and hoi 
 blooded — let him apologize, and I shall freely pardoi 
 him." 
 
 " By my faith ! " said the Duke di Marina with indignation 
 u such generosity is unheard of, conte ! Permit me to re 
 mark that it is altogether exceptional, after such ungentle 
 manly conduct" 
 
 Ferrari looked from one to the other in silent fury. Hi5 
 face had grown pale as death. He wrenched himself from 
 the grasp of D'Aven court and De Hamal. 
 
 " Fools ! let me go ! " he said, savagely. " None of you 
 are on my side — I see that ! " He stepped to the table, 
 poured out a glass of water and drank it off. He then turned 
 and faced me — his head thrown back, his eyes blazing with 
 wrath and pain. 
 
 " Liar ! " he cried again, " double-faced accursed liar ' 
 You have stolen her — you have fooled me — but, by G — d 
 you shall pay for it with your life ! " 
 
 " Willingly 1 " I said, with a mocking smile, restraining by 
 a gesture the hasty exclamations of those around me who re 
 sented this fresh attack — "most willingly, caro signor ! But 
 excuse me if I fail to see wherein you consider yourself 
 wronged. The lady who is cow my fiancie has not th« 
 slightest affection for you — she toid me so herself. Had she 
 entertained any such leehngs I might have withdrawn my 
 
212 rtLNDBTTAt 
 
 proposals — but as matters stand, what harn. have I done 
 you ? " 
 
 A chorus of indignant voices interrupted me. " Shame oil 
 you, Ferrari ! " cried Gualdro. " The count speaks like a 
 gentleman and a man of honor. Were I in his place you 
 should have had no word of explanation whatever. I would 
 not have condescended to parley with you — by Heaven £ 
 would not ! " 
 
 " Nor I ! " said the duke, stiffly. 
 
 " Nor I ! " said Mancini. 
 
 " Surely," said Luziana Salustri, " Ferrari will make the 
 amende honorable." 
 
 There was a pause. Each man looked at Ferrari with 
 some anxiety. The suddenness of the quarrel had sobered 
 the whole party more effectually than a cold douche. Ferrari's 
 face grew more and more livid till his very lips turned a 
 ghastly blue — he laughed aloud in bitter scorn. Then, walk- 
 ing steadily up to me, with his eyes full of baffled vindictive* 
 ness, he said, in a low clear tone : 
 
 " You say that — you say she never cared for me — you I 
 and /am to apologize to you! Thief, coward, traitor — take 
 that for my apology ! " Aud he struck me across the mouth 
 with his bare hand so fiercely that the diamond ring he wore 
 (my diamond ring) cut my flesh and slightly drew blood. A 
 shout of anger broke from all present! I turned to the 
 Marquis D'Avencourt. 
 
 " There can be but one answer to this," I said, with in- 
 different coldness. " Signor Ferrari has brought it on him- 
 self. Marquis, will you do me the honor to arrange the 
 affair?" 
 
 The marquis bowed, " I shall be most happy I " 
 
 " Ferrari glared about him for a moment and then said, 
 1 Freccia, you will second me ? " 
 
 Captain Freccia shrugged his shoulders. " You must posi 
 tively excuse me," he said. " My conscience will not permit 
 me to take up such a remarkably wrong cause as yours, caro 
 mio / I shall be pleased to act with D'Avencourt for the 
 count, if he will permit me." The marquis received him with 
 cordiality, and the two engaged in earnest conversation, 
 Ferrari next proffered his request to his quondam friend De 
 Hamal, who also declined to second him, as did every one 
 among the company. He bit his lips in mortification and 
 wounded vanity, and seemed hesitating what to do next, 
 when the marquis approached him with frigid courtesy and 
 
VENDETTA I 313 
 
 appeared to offer him some suggestions in a low tone of 
 voice — for after a few minutes' converse, Ferrari suddenly 
 turned on his heel and abruptly left the room without anothet 
 word or look. At the same instant I touched Vincenzo, who, 
 obedient to his orders, had remained an impassive but evi- 
 dently astonished spectator of all that had passed, and whis- 
 pered — " Follow that man and do not let him see you." He 
 obeyed so instantly that the door had scarcely closed upon 
 Ferrari when Vincenzo had also disappeared. The Marquis 
 D'Avencourt now came up to me. 
 
 " Your opponent has gone to find two seconds," he said. 
 " As you perceived, no one here would or could support him. 
 It is a most unfortunate affair." 
 
 " Most unfortunate," chorused De Hamal, who, though not 
 In it, appeared thoroughly to enjoy it. 
 
 " For my part," said the Duke di Marina, " I wonder how 
 our noble friend could be so lenient with such a young puppy. 
 His conceit is insufferable 1 " 
 
 Others around me made similar remarks, and were evi- 
 dently anxious to show how entirely they were on my side. 
 I however remained silent, lest they should see how gratified 
 I was at the success of my scheme. The marquis addressed 
 me again : 
 
 "While awaiting the other seconds, who are to find us 
 here," he said, with a glance at his watch, " Freccia and I 
 have arranged a few preliminaries. It is now nearly midnight. 
 We propose that the affair should come off in the morning at 
 six precisely. Will that suit you ? n 
 
 I bowed. 
 
 " As the insulted party you have the choice of weapons, 
 Shall we say " 
 
 " Pistols," I replied briefly. 
 
 a A la bonne heure /" Then, suppose we fix upon the plot 
 I open ground just behind the hill to the left of the Casa 
 Shirlande — between that and the Villa Romani — it is quiet 
 and secluded, and there will be no fear of interruption." 
 
 I bowed again. 
 
 " Thus it stands," continued the marquis, affably — " the 
 hour of six — the weapons pistols — the paces to be decided 
 hereafter when the other seconds arrive." 
 
 I professed myself entirely satisfied with these arrange- 
 ments, and shook hands with my amiable coadjutor. I then 
 looked round at the rest of the assembled company with a 
 smile at their troubled faces. 
 
814 VENDETTA! 
 
 " Gentlemen," I said, " our feast has broken up in a rather 
 
 disagreeable manner — and I am sorry for it, the more espe- 
 daily as it compels me to part from you. Receive my thanks 
 for your company, and for the friendship you have displayed 
 toward me! I do not believe that this is the last time I shall 
 have the honor of entertaining you — but if it should be so, I 
 shall at any rate carry a pleasant remembran«e of you into 
 the next world I If on the contrary I should survive the 
 combat of the morning, I hope to see you ail again on m} 
 marriage-day, when nothing shall occur to mar our merri 
 ment. In the meantime — good-night ! " 
 
 They closed round me, pressing my hands warmly and 
 assuring me of their entire sympathy with me in the quarrel 
 that had occurred. The duke was especially cordial, giving 
 me to understand that had the others failed in their services, 
 he himself, in spite of his dignity and peace-loving disposition, 
 would have volunteered as my second. I escaped from them 
 all at last and reached the quiet of my own apartments. 
 There I sat alone for more than an hour, waiting for the re- 
 turn of Vincenzo, whom I had sent to track Ferrari. I heard 
 the departing footsteps of my guests as they left the hotel by 
 twos and threes— I heard the equable voices of the marquis 
 and Captain Freccia ordering hot coffee to be served to them 
 in a private room where they were to await the other seconds 
 — now and then I caught a few words of the excited language 
 of the waiters who were volubly discussing the affair as they 
 cleared away the remains of the superb feast at which, though 
 none knew it save myself, death had been seated. Thirteen 
 at table ! One was a traitor and one must die. I knew 
 which one. No presentiment lurked in my mind as to the 
 doubtful result of the coming combat. It was not my Jot to 
 fall — my time had not come yet — I felt certain of that ! No 1 
 All the fateful forces of the universe would help me to keep 
 alive till my vengeance was fulfilled. Oh, what bitter shafts 
 of agony Ferrari carried in his heart at that moment, I 
 thought. How he had looked when I said she never cared 
 for him ! Poor wretch I I pitied him even while I rejoiced at 
 his torture. He suffered now as I had suffered — he was 
 duped as I had been duped — and each quiver of his con- 
 vulsed face and tormented frame had been fraught with sat- 
 isfaction to me ! Each moment of his life was now a pang 
 to him. Well ! it would soon be over — thus far at least I 
 was merciful. I drew out pens and paper and commenced 
 to write a few last instruction^ in case the result of the fight 
 
VEtfDETTA / 1 1 5 
 
 should be fatal to me. I made them very concise and brie! 
 • — I knew, while writing, that they would not be needed. 
 Still — for the sake of form I wrote — and sealing the document. 
 I directed it to the Duke di Marina. I looked at my watch 
 — it was past one o'clock and Vincenzo had not yet returned. 
 I went to the window, and drawing back the curtains, sur 
 veyed the exquisitely peaceful scene that lay before me. The 
 moon was still high and bright — and her reflection made the 
 waters of the bay appear like a warrior's coat of mail woven 
 from a thousand glittering links of polished steel. Here and 
 there, from the masts of anchored brigs and fishing-boats 
 gleamed a few red and green lights burning dimly like fallen 
 and expiring stars. There was a heavy unnatural silence 
 everywhere — it oppressed me, and I threw the window wide 
 open for air. Then came the sound of bells chiming softly. 
 People passed to and fro with quiet footsteps — some paused 
 to exchange friendly greetings. I remembered the day with 
 a sort of pang at my heart. The night was over, though 
 as yet there was nc sign of dawn — and — it was Christmas 
 morning ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The opening of the room door aroused me from my med- 
 itations. I turned — to find Vincenzo standing near me, hat 
 in hand — he had just entered. 
 
 " Ebbene/" I said, with a cheerful air — " what news? " 
 
 " Eccellenza, you have been obeyed. The young Signor 
 Ferrari is now at his studio." 
 
 " You left him there ? " 
 
 "Yes, eccellenza " — and Vincenzo proceeded to give m<r 
 a graphic account of his adventures. On leaving the ban 
 queting-room, Ferrari had taken a carriage and driven 
 straight to the Villa Romani — Vincenzo, unperceived, had 
 swung himself on to the back of the vehicle and had gone 
 also. 
 
 " Arriving there," continued my valet, " he dismissed the 
 fiacre — and rang the gate-bell furiously six or seven times. 
 No one answered. I hid myself among the trees and 
 watched. There were no lights in the villa windows — all was 
 darkness. He rang it again — he even shook "the gate as 
 though he would break it open. At last the poor Giacomo 
 came, half undressed and holding a lantern in his hand — hfe 
 
216 VENDETTA i 
 
 seemed terrified, and trembled so much that the lantern jogged 
 up and down like a corpse-candle on a tomb. 
 
 " ' I must see the contessa,' said the young signor. Gia- 
 como blinked like an owl, and coughed as though the devil 
 scratched in his throat. 
 
 " ' The contessa ! ' he said. \ She is gone ! ' 
 
 " The signor then threw himself upon Giacomo and shook 
 aim to and fro as though he were a bag of loose wheat. 
 
 " ' Gone ! ' and he screamed like a madman! * Where \ 
 Tell me where, dolt ! idiot ! driveler ! before I twist your neck 
 for you ! ' 
 
 " Truly, eccellenza, I would have gone to the rescue o£ the 
 poor Giacomo, but respect for your commands kept me 
 silent. * A thousand pardons, signor ! ' he whispered, out of 
 breath with his shaking. ' I will tell you instantly — most in- 
 stantly. She is at the Convento dell' Annunziata — ten miles 
 from here — the saints know I speak the truth — she left two 
 days since/ 
 
 " The Signor Ferrari then flung away the unfortunate Gia» 
 como with so much force that he fell in a heap on the pave- 
 ment and broke his lantern to pieces. The old man set up 
 a most pitiful groaning, but the signor cared nothing for that. 
 He was mad, I think. * Get to bed ! ' he cried, ' and sleep- 
 sleep till you die ! Tell your mistress when you see her that 
 I came to kill her ! My curse upon this house and all who 
 dwell in it ! ' And with that he ran so quickly through the 
 garden into the high-road that I had some trouble to follow 
 him. There after walking unsteadily for a few paces, he 
 suddenly fell down, senseless." 
 
 Vincenzo paused. " Well," I said, " what happened 
 next?" 
 
 " Eccellenza, I could not leave him there without aid. I 
 drew my cloak well up to my mouth and pulled my hat down 
 over my eyes so that he could not recognize me. Then I 
 took water from the fountain close by and dashed it on his 
 face. He soon came to himself, and, taking me for a stran- 
 ger, thanked me for my assistance, saying that he had a 
 sudden shock. He then drank greedily from the fountain 
 and went on his way." 
 
 "You followed?" 
 
 " Yes, eccellenza — at a little distance. He next visited a 
 common tavern in one of the back streets of the city and 
 eame out with two men. They were well dressed — they had 
 the air of gentlemen spoiled by bad fortune. The signal 
 
VENDETTA i *t } 
 
 talked with them for some time — he seemed much excited 
 I could not hear what they said except at the end, when these 
 two strangers consented to appear as seconds for Signor 
 Ferrari, and they at once left him, to come straight to this 
 hotel. And they are arrived, for I saw them through a half- 
 opened door as I came in, talking with the Marquis 
 D'Avencourt." 
 
 "Well ! " I said, " and what of Signor Ferrari when he was 
 left alone by his two friends ? " 
 
 " There is not much more to tell, eccellenza. He went up 
 the little hill to his own studio, and I noticed that he walked 
 like a very old man with his head bent. Once he stopped 
 and shook his fist in the air as though threatening some one. 
 He let himself in at his door with a private key — and I saw 
 him no more. I felt that he would not come out again for 
 some time. And as I moved away to return here, I heard 
 * sound as of terrible weeping." 
 
 " And that is all, Vincenzo ? " 
 
 " That is all, eccellenza." 
 
 I was silent. There was something in the simple narration 
 that touched me, though I remained as determinately relent- 
 less as ever. After a few moments I said : 
 
 " You have done well, Vincenzo. You are aware how 
 grossly this young man has insulted me — and that his inju- 
 rious treatment can only be wiped out in one way. That way 
 is already arranged. You can set out those pistols you 
 cleaned." 
 
 Vincenzo obeyed — but as he lifted the heavy case of 
 weapons and set them on the table, he ventured to remark, 
 timidly : 
 
 " The eccellenza knows it is now Christmas-day ? " 
 
 " I am quite aware of the fact," I said somewhat frigidly. 
 
 In nowise daunted he went on, " Coming back just now 1 
 saw the big Nicolo — the eccellenza has doubtless seen him 
 often ? — he is a vine-grower, and they say he is the largest 
 man in Naples — three months since he nearly killed his 
 brother — ebbene ! To-night that same big Nicolo is drinking 
 Chianti with that same brother, and both shouted after me 
 as I passed, * Hola ! Vincenzo Flamma ! all is well between 
 us because it is the blessed Christ's birthday.' " Vincenzo 
 stopped and regarded me wistfully. 
 
 " Well ! " I said, calmly, " what has the big Nicolo or his 
 brother to do with me ? " 
 
 My valet hesitated — looked up — then down — finally hft 
 
said, simply, " May the saints preserve the ecceffenza fron? 
 all harm ! " 
 
 I smiled gravely. " Thank you, my friend ! I understand 
 what you mean. Have no fear for me. I am now going tc 
 lie down and rest till five o'clock or thereabouts — and I advise 
 you to do the same. At that time you can bring me some 
 coffee." 
 
 And I nodded kindly to him as I left him and entered my 
 deeping apartment, where I threw myself on the bed, dressed 
 is I was. I had no intention of sleeping — my mind was too 
 deeply engrossed by all I had gone through. I could entef 
 into Guido's feelings — had I not suffered as he was now suf 
 fering ? — nay ! more than he — for he, at any rate, would not 
 be buried alive ! I should take care of that ! He would not 
 have to endure the agony of breaking loose from the cold 
 grasp of the grave to come back to life and find his name 
 slandered, and his vacant place filled up by a usurper. Do 
 what I would, I could not torture him as much as I myself 
 had been tortured. That was a pity — death, sudden and 
 almost painless, seemed too good for him. I held up my hand 
 in the half light and watched it closely to see if it trembled 
 ever so slightly. No S it was steady as a rock — I felt I was 
 sure of my aim. I would not fire at his heart, I thought — 
 but just above it — for I had to' remember one thing — he 
 must live long enough to recognize me before he died. That 
 was the sting I reserved for his last moments ! The sick 
 dreams that had bewildered my brain when I was taken ill 
 at the auberge recurred to me. I remembered the lithe 
 figure, so like Guido, that had glided in the Indian canoe 
 toward me and had plunged a dagger three times in my 
 heart ? Had it not been realized ? Had not Guido stabbed 
 me thrice ? — in his theft of my wife's affections — in his con- 
 tempt for my little dead child — in his slanders on my name ? 
 Then why such foolish notions of pity — of forgiveness, that 
 /ere beginning to steal into my mind? It was too late now 
 :or forgiveness — the very idea of it only rose out of a silly 
 sentimentalism awakened by Ferrari's allusion to our young 
 days — days for which, after all, he really cared nothing. 
 Meditating on all these things, I suppose I must have fallen 
 by imperceptible degrees into a doze which gradually deep 
 ened till it became a profound and refreshing sleep. From 
 this I was awakened by a knocking at the door. I arose and 
 admitted Vincenzo, who entered bearing a tray of steaming 
 coffee. 
 
VEMDETTAi Sty 
 
 " Is it already so late ? " I asked him. 
 
 " It wants a quarter to five," replied Vincenzo — then look- 
 ing at me in some surprise, he added, " Will not the eccel« 
 lenza change his evening-dress ? " 
 
 I nodded in the affirmative — and while I drank my coffee 
 my valet set out a suit of rough tweed, such as I was accus 
 tomed to wear every day. He then left me, and I quickly 
 changed my attire, and while I did so I considered carefully 
 ;he position of affairs. Neither the Marquis D'Avencourt 
 •lor Captain Freccia had ever known me personally when 1 
 was Fabio Romani — nor was it at all probable that the two 
 tavern companions of Ferrari had ever seen me. A surgeon 
 would be on the field — most probably a stranger. Thinking 
 over these points, I resolved on a bold stroke — it was this— 
 that when I turned to face Ferrari in the combat, I would do 
 so with uncovered eyes — I would abjure my spectacles alto- 
 gether for the occasion. Vaguely I wondered what the effect 
 would be upon him. I was very much changed even without 
 these disguising glasses — my white beard and hair had seem- 
 ingly altered my aspect — yet I knew there was something 
 familiar in the expression of my eyes that could not fail to 
 startle one who had known me well. My seconds would 
 consider it very natural that I should remove the smoke- 
 colored spectacles in order to see my aim unencumbered — 
 the only person likely to be disconcerted by my action was 
 Ferrari himself. The more I thought of it the more deter- 
 mined I was to do it. I had scarcely finished dressing when 
 Vincenzo entered with my overcoat, and informed me that 
 the marquis waited for me, and that a close carriage was in 
 attendance at the private door of the hotel. 
 
 " Permit me to accompany you, eccellenza ! " pleaded the 
 faithful fellow, with anxiety in the tone of his voice. 
 
 " Come then, amico / " I said, cheerily. " If the marquis 
 makes no objection I shall not. But you must promise not 
 o interrupt any of the proceedings by so much as an ex* 
 clamation." 
 
 He promised readily, and when I joined the marquis he 
 followed, carrying my case of pistols. 
 
 "He can be trusted, I suppose?" asked D'Avencourt, 
 glancing keenly at him while shaking hands cordially with 
 me. 
 
 " To the death ! " I replied, laughingly. " He will break 
 his heart if he is not allowed to bind up my wounds ! " 
 
 " I see you are in good spirits, conte," remarked Captaii 
 
fc*o VENDBTTAl 
 
 Freccia, as we took our seats in the carriage. " It is always 
 the way with the man who is in the right. Ferrari, I fear, is 
 not quite so comfortable." 
 
 And he proffered me a cigar, which I accepted. Just as 
 we were about to start, the fat landlord of the hotel rushed 
 toward us, and laying hold of the carriage door — " Eccel- 
 lenza," he observed in a confidential whisper, " of course this 
 is only a matter of coffee and glorias ? They will be ready 
 for you all on your return. I know — I understand ! " And 
 he smiled and nodded a great many times, and laid his finge?. 
 knowingly on the side of his nose. We laughed heartily, as- 
 suring him that his perspicuity was wonderful, and he stood 
 on the broad steps in high good humor, watching us as out 
 vehicle rumbled heavily away. 
 
 " Evidently," I remarked, " He does not consider a duel as 
 a serious affair. " 
 
 " Not he ! " replied Freccia. " He has known of too many 
 sham fights to be able to understand a real one. D'Aven- 
 court knows something about that too, though he always kills 
 his man. But very often it is sufficient to scratch one an* 
 other with the sword-point so as to draw a quarter of a drop 
 of blood, and honor is satisfied ! Then the coffee and glorias 
 are brought, as suggested by our friend the landlord." 
 
 " It is a ridiculous age," said the marquis, taking his cigar 
 from his mouth, and complacently surveying his small, supple 
 white hand, " thoroughly ridiculous, but I determined it 
 should never make a fool of me. You see, my dear conte, 
 nowadays a duel is very frequently decided with swords 
 rather than pistols, and why ? Because cowards fancy it is 
 much more difficult to kill with the sword. But not at all. 
 Long ago I made up my mind that no man should continue 
 to live who dared to insult me. I therefore studied sword 
 play as an art. And I assure you it is a simple matter tc 
 kill with the sword — remarkably simple. My opponents art 
 astonished at the ease with which I dispatch them ! " 
 
 Freccia laughed "De Hamal is a pupil of yours, mar- 
 quis, is he not ? " 
 
 " I regret to say yes ! He is marvelously clumsy. I have 
 often earnestly requested him to eat his sword rather than 
 handle it so boorishly. Yet he kills his men, too, but in a 
 butcher-like manner — totally without grace or refinement. 1 
 should say he was about on a par with our two associates, 
 Ferrari's seconds." 
 
 I roused myself from a reverie into which I had falls*. 
 
VEMDETTAI 3*1 
 
 "What men are they? " I inquired. 
 
 " One calls himself the Capitano Ciabatti, the other Cava* 
 Here Dursi, at your service," answered Freccia, indifferently. 
 "Good swearers both and hard drinkers — filled with stock 
 phrases, such as ' our distinguished dear friend, Ferrari/ 
 1 wrongs which can only be wiped out by blood ' — all bombast 
 and braggadocio ! These fellows would as soon be on one 
 side as the other." 
 
 He resumed his smoking, and we all three lapsed into 
 silence. The drive seemed very long, though in reality the 
 distance was not great. At last we passed the Casa Ghir- 
 lande, a superb chateau belonging to a distinguished noble- 
 man who in former days had been a friendly neighbor to me, 
 and then our vehicle jolted down a gentle declivity which 
 sloped into a small valley, where there was a good-sized piece 
 of smooth flat greensward. From this spot could be faintly 
 discerned the castellated turrets of my own house, the Villa 
 Romani. Here w r e came to a standstill. Vincenzo jumped 
 briskly down from his seat beside the coachman, and assisted 
 us to alight. The carriage then drove off to a retired corner 
 behind some trees. We surveyed the ground, and saw that 
 as yet only one person beside ourselves had arrived. This 
 was the surgeon, a dapper good-humored little German who 
 spoke bad French and worse Italian, and who shook hands 
 cordially with us all. On learning who I was he bowed low 
 and smiled very amiably. " The best wish I can offer to you, 
 signor," he said, " is that you may have no occasion for my 
 services. You have reposed yourself ? That is well — sleep 
 steadies the nerves. Ach! you shiver! True it is, the 
 morning is cold." 
 
 I did indeed experience a passing shudder, but not be- 
 cause the air was chilly. It was because I felt certain — so 
 terribly certain, of killing the man I had once loved well. 
 Almost I wished I could also feel that there was the slightest 
 possibility of his killing me ; but no ! — all my instincts told 
 me there was no chance of this. I had a sort of sick pain 
 at my heart, and as I thought of her, the jewel-eyed snake 
 who had wrought all the evil, my wrath against her increased 
 tenfold. I wondered scornfully what she was doing away 
 in the quiet convent where the sacred Host, unveiled, glittered 
 on the altar like a star of the morning. No doubt she slept ; 
 it was yet too early for her to practice her sham sanctity. 
 She slept, in all probability most peacefully, while her husband 
 a$d her lover called upon death to come and decide between 
 
222 VENDETTA t 
 
 them. The slow clear strokes of a bell chiming from the 
 city tolled six, and as its last echo trembled mournfully on 
 the wind there was a slight stir among my companions. I 
 looked and saw Ferrari approaching with his two associates. 
 He walked slowly, and was muffled in a thick cloak ; his 
 hat was pulled over his brows, and I could not see the ex- 
 pression of his face, as he did not turn his head once in my 
 direction, but stood apart leaning against the trunk of a leaf 
 tess tree. The seconds on both sides now commenced 
 measuring the ground. 
 
 " We are agreed as to the distance, gentlemen," said the 
 marquis. " Twenty paces, I think ? " 
 
 *' Twenty paces," stiffly returned one of Ferrari's friends— 
 a battered-looking middle-aged roue with ferocious mustachios, 
 whom I presumed was Captain Ciabatti. 
 
 They went on measuring carefully and in silence. During 
 the pause I turned my back on the whole party, slipped off 
 my spectacles and put them in my pocket. Then I lowered 
 the brim of my hat slightly so that the change might not be 
 observed too suddenly — and resuming my first position, I 
 waited. It was daylight though not full morning — the sun 
 had not yet risen, but there was an opaline luster in the sky, 
 and one pale pink streak in the east like the floating pennon 
 from the lance of a hero, which heralded his approach. 
 There was a gentle twittering of awakening birds — the grass 
 sparkled with a million tiny drops of frosty dew. A curious 
 calmness possessed me. I felt for the time as though I were 
 a mechanical automaton moved by some other will than my 
 own. I had no passion left. 
 
 The weapons were now loaded — and the marquis, looking 
 about him with a cheerful business-like air, remarked • 
 
 " I think we may now place our men ? " 
 
 This suggestion agreed to, Ferrari left his place near the 
 tree against which he had in part inclined as though fatigued, 
 and advanced to the spot his seconds pointed out to him. 
 He threw off his hat and overcoat, thereby showing that he 
 was still in his evening-dress. His face was haggard and of 
 a sickly paleness — his eyes had dark rings of pain round 
 them, and were full of a keen and bitter anguish. He eagerly 
 grasped the pistol they handed to him, and examined it 
 closely with vengeful interest. I meanwhile also threw off 
 my hat and coat — the marquis glanced at me with careless 
 approval. 
 
 " You look a much younger man without your spectacle^ 
 
VENDETTA t a* 3 
 
 conte," he remarked as he handed me my weapon. I smiled 
 indifferently, and took up my position at the distance indicated, 
 exactly opposite Ferrari. He was still occupied in the ex- 
 amination of his pistol, and did not at once look up. 
 
 " Are we ready, gentlemen ? " demanded Freccia, with 
 courteous coldness. 
 
 " Quite ready," was the response. The Marquis D'Aven 
 court took out his handkerchief. Then Ferrari raised his 
 head and faced me fully for the first time. Great Heaven ! 
 shall I ever forget the awful change that came over his pallid 
 countenance — the confused mad look of his eyes — the startled 
 horror of his expression ! His lips moved as though he 
 were about to utter an exclamation — he staggered. 
 
 " One ! " cried D'Avencourt. 
 
 We raised our weapons. 
 
 " Two ! " 
 
 The scared and bewildered expression of Ferrari's face 
 deepened visibly as he eyed me steadily in taking aim. I 
 smiled proudly — I gave him back glance for glance — I saw 
 him waver — his hand shook. 
 
 " Three ! " and the white handkerchief fluttered to the 
 ground. Instantly, and together, we fired. Ferrari's bullet 
 whizzed past me, merely tearing my coat and grazing my 
 shoulder. The smoke cleared — Ferrari still stood erect, oppo- 
 site to me, staring straight forward with the same frantic far- 
 off look — the pistol had dropped from his hand. Suddenly 
 he threw up his arms — shuddered — and with a smothered 
 groan fell, face forward, prone on the sward. The surgeon 
 hurried to his side and turned him so that he lay on his back. 
 He was unconscious — though his dark eyes were wide open, 
 and turned blindly upward to the sky. The front of his shirt 
 was already soaked with blood. We all gathered round him fc 
 
 " A good shot ? " inquired the marquis, with the indif- 
 ference of a practiced duelist. 
 
 " Ach ! a good shot indeed ! " replied the little German 
 doctor, shaking his head as he rose from his examination of 
 the wound. " Excellent ! He will be dead in ten minutes. 
 The bullet has passed through the lungs close to the heart. 
 Honor is satisfied certainly J " 
 
 At that moment a deep anguished sigh parted the lips of the 
 dying man. Sense and speculation returned to those glaring 
 eyes so awfully upturned. He looked upon us all doubtfully 
 one after the other — till finally his gaze rested upon me. 
 Then he grew strangely excited — his lips moved — he eagerly 
 
124 VENDETTA I 
 
 tried to speak. The doctor, watchful of his movement^ 
 poured brandy between his teeth. The cordial gave him 
 momentary strength — he raised himself by a supieme effort. 
 
 " Let me speak," he gasped faintly, <4 to him 1 " And ha 
 pointed to me — then he continued to mutter like a man in a 
 dream — " to him — alone — alone ! — to him alone 1 " 
 
 The others, slightly awed by his manner, drew aside out of 
 ear-shot, and I advanced and knelt beside him, stooping m) 
 face between his and the morning sky. His wild eyes me* 
 mine with a piteous beseeching terror. 
 
 " In God's name," he whispered, thickly, "who are you 1* 
 
 " You know me, Guido ! " I answered, steadily. " I am 
 Fabio Romani, whom you once called friend I I am he whose 
 wife you stole ! — whose name you slandered ! — whose honor 
 you despised I Ah I look at me well I your own heart telU 
 you who I am I " 
 
 He uttered a low moan and raised his hand with a feeble 
 gesture. 
 
 " Fabio ? Fabio ? " he gasped. " He died — I saw him in 
 his coffin H 
 
 I leaned more closely over him. " I was buried alive? I 
 said with thrilling distinctness. " Understand me, Guido — 
 buried alive ! I escaped — no matter how. I came home- 
 to learn your treachery and my own dishonor l Shall I tell 
 you more ? " 
 
 A terrible shudder shook his frame — his head moved rest- 
 lessly to and fro, the sweat stood in large drops upon his 
 forehead. With my own handkerchief I wiped his Ups and 
 brow tenderly — my nerves were strung up to an almost brit- 
 tle tension — I smiled as a woman smiles when on the verge 
 of hysterical weeping. 
 
 " You know the avenue," I said, " the dear old avenue, 
 where the nightingales sing ? I saw you there, Guido — with 
 her / — on the very night of my return from death — she wag 
 in your arms — you kissed her — you spoke of me — you toyed 
 with the necklace on her white breast I " 
 
 He writhed under my gaze with a strong convulsive move- 
 ment. 
 
 "Tell me — quick!" he gasped. "Does — she— know 
 you ? " 
 
 " Not yet ! " I answered, slowly. " But soon she will- 
 when I have married her I " 
 
 A look of bitter auguish filled his straining eyes. u Oh, 
 God, God l " he exclaimed with a groan like that of a wild 
 
VENDETTA 1 »»* 
 
 beas* in pain, u This is horrible, too horrible f Spare me 
 
 . — spare " A rush of blood choked his utterance. His 
 
 breathing grew fainter and fainter ; the livid hue of approach- 
 ing dissolution spread itself gradually over his countenance 
 Staring wildly at me, he groped with his hands as though 
 he searched for some lost thing I took one of those feebly 
 wandering hands within ray own, and held it closely clasped 
 
 " You know the rest," I said gently ; " you understand m] 
 irengeance ! But it is all over, Guido — all over, now i Sh* 
 has played us both false. May God forgive you as I do ! " 
 
 He smiled — a soft look brightened his fast-glazing eyes— 
 the old boyish look that had won my love in former days. 
 
 " All over ! " he repeated in a sort of plaintive babble. 
 
 u All over now ! God — Fabio — forgive ! " A terrible 
 
 convulsion wrenched and contorted his limbs and features^ his 
 throat rattled, and stretching himself out with a long shiver- 
 ing sigh — he died ! The first beams of the rising sun, pierc- 
 ing through the dark, moss-covered branches of the pine-trees, 
 fell on his clustering hair, and lent a mocking brilliancy to 
 his wide-open sightless eyes : there was a smile on the closed 
 lips I A burning, suffocating sensation rose in my throat, as 
 of rebellious tears trying to force a passage. I still held the 
 hand of my friend and enemy — it had grown cold in my clasp 
 Upon it sparkled my family diamond — the ring she had given 
 him. I drew the jewel off : then I kissed that poor passive 
 hand as I laid it gently down — kissed it tenderly, reverently 
 Hearing footsteps approaching, I rose from my kneeling post 
 ure and stood erect with folded arms, looking tearlessly dowr* 
 on the stiffening clay before me. The rest of the party came 
 up ; no one spoke for a minute ; all surveyed the dead body 
 in silence. At last Captain Freccia said, softly in half-inqujr 
 ing accents : 
 
 " He is gone, I suppose ? " 
 
 I bowed. I could not trust myself to speak, 
 
 a He made you his apology? " asked the marquis. 
 
 I bowed again. There was another pause of heavy 
 silence. The rigid smiling face of the corpse seemed to 
 mock all speech. The doctor stooped and skillfully closed 
 those glazed appealing eyes — and then it seemed to me as 
 though Guido merely slept and that a touch would waken him. 
 The Maiquis D'Avencourt took me by the arm and whis- 
 pered, " Get back to the city, amico, and take some wine— 
 you look positively ill ! Your evident regret does you credit, 
 considering the circumstances — but what would you ? — it wag 
 21 
 
226 VENDETTA I 
 
 a fair fight. Consider the provocation you had I I should 
 
 advise you to leave Naples for a couple of weeks — by that 
 time the affair will be forgotten. I know how these things 
 are managed — leave it all to me." 
 
 I thanked him and shook his hand cordially and turned to 
 depart. Vincenzo was in waiting with the carriage. Once 
 I looked back, as with slow steps I left the field ; a golden 
 radiance illumined the sky just above the stark figure 
 stretched so straightly on the sward ; while almost from the 
 very side of that pulseless heart a little bird rose from its 
 nest among the grasses and soared into the heavens, singing 
 rapturously as it flew into the warmth and glory of the livings 
 breathing day. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Entering the fiacre, I drove in it a very little way toward 
 the city. I bade the driver stop at the corner of the winding 
 road that led to the Villa Romani, and there I alighted. I 
 ordered Vincenzo to go on to the hotel and send from thence 
 my own carriage and horses up to the villa gates, where I 
 would wait for it. I also bade him pack my portmanteau in 
 readiness for my departure that evening, as I proposed going 
 to Avellino, among the mountains, for a few days. He heard 
 my commands in silence and evident embarrassment. Fi- 
 nally he said : 
 
 " Do I also travel with the eccellenza ? " 
 
 " Why, no ! " I answered with a forced sad smile. " Do 
 you not see, arnica, that I am heavy-hearted, and melancholy 
 men are best left to themselves. Besides — remember the 
 carnival — I told you you were free to indulge in its merri- 
 ment, and shall I not deprive you of your pleasure ? No* 
 Vincenzo \ stay and enjoy yourself, and take no concern for 
 me." 
 
 Vincenzo saluted me with his usual respectful bow, but his 
 features wore an expression of obstinacy. 
 
 " The eccellenza must pardon me." he said. " but I have 
 just looked at death, and my taste is spoiled for carnival. 
 Again — the eccellenza is sad — it is necessary that I should 
 accompany him to Avellino." 
 
 I saw that his mind was made up, and I was in no humor 
 for argument. 
 
 "As you will," I answered, wearily, "only believe me, you 
 
VENDETTA I 22 f 
 
 make a foolish decision. But do what you like ; only arrange 
 all so that we leave to-night. And now get back quickly— 
 give no explanation at the hotel of what has occurred, and 
 lose no time in sending on my carriage. I will wait alone at 
 the Villa Romani till it comes." 
 
 The vehicle rumbled cff, bearing Vincenzo seated on the 
 box beside the driver. I watched it disappear, and then 
 turned into the road that led me to my own dishonored home, 
 The place looked silent and deserted — not a soul was stirring 
 The silken blinds of the reception-rooms were all closelj 
 drawn, showing that the mistress of the house was absent ; 
 it was as if some one lay dead within. A vague wonderment 
 arose in my mind. Who was dead ? Surely it must be I — I 
 the master of the household, who lay stiff and cold in one of 
 those curtained rooms I This terrible white-haired man who 
 roamed feverishly up and down outside the walls was not me 
 — it was some angry demon risen from the grave to wreak 
 punishment on the guilty, /was dead — I could never have 
 killed the man who had once been my friend, And he also 
 was dead — the same murderess had slain us both — and she 
 lived ! Ha ! that was wrong — she must now die — but in such 
 torture that her very soul shall shrink and shrivel under it 
 into a devil's flame for the furnace of hell ! 
 
 With my brain full of hot whirling thoughts like these I 
 looked through the carved heraldic work of the villa gates. 
 Here had Guido stood, poor wretch, last night, shaking these 
 twisted wreaths of iron in impotent fury. There on the 
 mosaic pavement he had flung the trembling old servant who 
 had told him of the absence of his traitress. On this very 
 spot he had launched his curse, which, though he knew it 
 not, was the curse of a dying man. I was glad he had 
 uttered it — such maledictions cling! There was nothing but 
 compassion for him in my heart now that he was dead. He 
 had been duped and wronged even as I ; and I felt that his 
 spirit, released from its grosser clay, would work with mine 
 and aid in her punishment. 
 
 I paced round the silent house till I came to the private 
 wicket that led into the avenue ; I opened it and entered 
 the familiar path. I had not been there since the fatal 
 night on which I had learned my own betrayal. How in- 
 tensely still were those solemn pines — how gaunt and dark 
 and grim ! Not a branch quivered — not a leaf stirred. A 
 cold dew that was scarcely a frost glittered on the moss at my 
 feet* No bird's voice broke the imDressive hush of the wood 
 
228 VENDETTA! 
 
 lands morning dream. No bright-hued flower unbuttoned 
 its fairy cloak to the breeze ; yet there was a subtle perfume 
 everywhere — the fragrance of unseen violets whose purple 
 eyes were still closed in slumber. 
 
 I gazed on the scene as a man may behold in a vision 
 the spot where he once was happy. I walked a few paces> 
 then paused with a strange beating at my heart. A shadow 
 fell across my path—it flitted before me, it stopped — it lay 
 still. I saw it resolve itself into the figure of a man stretched 
 out in rigid silence, with the light beating full on its smiling, 
 .lead face, and also on a deep wound just above his heart, 
 from which the blood oozed redly, staining the grass on 
 which he lay. Mastering the sick horror which seized me 
 at this sight, I sprung forward — the shadow vanished in- 
 stantly — it was a mere optical delusion, the result of my 
 overwrought and excited condition. I shuddered involun* 
 tarily at the image my own heaied fancy had conjured up ; 
 should I always see Guido thus, I thought, even in my 
 dreams ? 
 
 Suddenly a ringing, swaying rush of sound burst joyously 
 on the silence — the slumbering trees awoke, their leaves 
 moved, their dark branches quivered, and the grasses lifted 
 up their green lilliputian sword-blades. Bells ! — and suck 
 bells ! — tongues of melody that stormed the air with sweetest 
 eloquence — round, rainbow bubbles of music that burst upon 
 the wind, and dispersed in delicate broken echoes. 
 
 " Peace on earth, good will to men ! Peace — on — earth- 
 good — will — to — men I " they seemed to say over and over 
 again, till my ears ached with the repetition. Peace ! What 
 had I to do with peace or good-will? The Christ Mass 
 could teach me nothing. I was as one apart from human 
 life — an alien from its customs and affections — for me no 
 love, no brotherhood remained. The swinging song of the 
 chimes jarred my nerves. Why, I thought, should the wild 
 erring world, with all its wicked men and women, presume 
 to rejoice at the birth of the Saviour ? — they, who were not 
 worthy to be saved I I turned swiftly away ; I strode fiercely 
 past the kingly pines that, now thoroughly awakened, seemed 
 to note me with a stern disdain as though they said among 
 themselves : " What manner of small creature is this that 
 torments himself with passions unknown to us in our calm 
 converse with the stars ? " 
 
 I was glad when I stood again on the high-road, and in- 
 finitely relieved when I heard the rapid trot of horses an$ 
 
VENDETlAI #2$ 
 
 rumbling of wheels, and saw my closed brougham, drawn by 
 its prancing black Arabians, approaching. I walked to meet 
 it ; the coachman seeing me drew up instantly. I bade him 
 take me to the Convento dell* Annunziata, and entering the 
 carriage, I was driven rapidly away. 
 
 The convent was situated, I knew, somewhere between 
 Naples and Sorrento. I guessed it to be near Castellamare t 
 but it was fully three miles beyond that, and was a some- 
 what long drive of more than two hours. It lay a good dis 
 tance out of the direct route, and was only attained by a by- 
 road, which from its rough and broken condition was evidently 
 not much frequented. The building stood apart from all other 
 habitations in a large open piece of ground, fenced in by a 
 high stone wall spiked at the top. Roses climbed thickly 
 among the spikes, and almost hid their sharp points from 
 view, and from a perfect nest of green foliage, the slender 
 spire of the convent chapel rose into the sky like a white 
 finger pointing to heaven. My coachman drew up before 
 the heavily barred gates. I alighted, and bade him take the 
 carriage to the principal hostelry at Castellamare, and wait 
 for me there. As soon as he had driven off", I rang the con- 
 vent bell. A little wicket fixed in the gate opened im- 
 mediately, and the wrinkled visage of a very old and ugly nun 
 looked out. She demanded in low tones what I sought. I 
 handed her my card, and stated my desire to see the Countess 
 Romani, if agreeable to the superioress. While I spoke she 
 looked at me curiously — my spectacles, I suppose, excited 
 her wonder — for I had replaced these disguising glasses im- 
 mediately on leaving the scene of the duel — I needed them 
 yet a little while longer. After peering at me a minute or 
 two with her bleared and aged eyes, she shut the wicket in 
 my face with a smart click and disappeared. While I 
 awaited her return I heard the sound of children's laughtet 
 and light footsteps running trippingly on the stone passage 
 within. 
 
 " Fi done, Rosie I " said the girl's voice in French ; " la 
 bonne Mere Marguerite sera rres tres fachee avec toi." 
 
 " Tais-toi, petite sainte ! " cried another voice more pierc- 
 ing and silvery in tone. " Je veux voir qui est la ! C'est un 
 homme je sais bien — parceque la vieille Mere Laura a rougi 1 " 
 and both young voices broke into a chorus of renewed laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 Then came the shuffling noise of the old nun's footsteps 
 leturninjs ; she evidently caught the two truants, whoever thej 
 
2$0 VENDETTA / V 
 
 were, foi I heard her expostulating, scolding and apostrophiz« 
 ing the saints all in a breath, as she bade them go inside the 
 house and ask the good little Jesus to forgive their naughti* 
 ness. A silence ensued, then the bolts and bars of the huge 
 gate were undone slowly — it opened, and I was admitted. I 
 raised my hat as I entered, and walked bareheaded through 
 a long, cold corridor, guided by the venerable nun, who looked 
 at me no more, but told her beads as she walked, and never 
 spoke till she had led me into the building, through a lofty 
 hall glorious with sacred paintings and statues, and from 
 thence into a large, elegantly furnished room, whose windows 
 commanded a fine view of the grounds. Here she motioned 
 me to take a seat, and without lifting her eyelids, said : 
 " Mother Marguerite will wait upon you instantly, signor. w 
 I bowed, and she glided from the room so noiselessly that 
 I did not even hear the door close behind her. Left alone in 
 what I rightly concluded was the reception-room for visitors, 
 I looked about me with some faint interest and curiosity. I 
 had never before seen the interior of what is known as an 
 educational convent. There were many photographs on the 
 walls and mantelpiece — portraits of girls, some plain of face 
 and form, others beautiful — no doubt they had all been sent 
 to the nuns as souvenirs of former pupils. Rising from my 
 chair I examined a few of them carelessly, and was about to 
 inspect a fine copy of Murillo's Virgin, when my attention 
 was caught by an upright velvet frame surmounted with my 
 own crest and coronet. In it was the portrait of my wife, 
 taken in her bridal dress, as she looked when she married me. 
 I took it to the light, and stared at the features dubiously. 
 This was she — this slim, fairy-like creature clad in gossamer 
 white, with the marriage veil thrown back from her cluster- 
 ing hair and child-like face — this was the thing for which two 
 men's lives had been sacrificed 1 With a movement of dis- 
 gust I replaced the frame in its former position ; I had 
 scarcely done so when the door opened quietly and a tall 
 woman, clad in trailing robes of pale blue with a nun's band 
 and veil of fine white cashmere, stood before me. I saluted 
 her with a deep reverence ; she responded by the slightest 
 possible bend of her head. Her outward manner was so very 
 still and composed that when she spoke her colorless lips 
 scarcely moved, her very breathing never stirred the silver 
 crucifix that lay like a glittering sign-manual on her quiet 
 breast. Her voice, though low, was singularly clear and 
 penetrating. 
 
VENDETTA! 
 
 *3* 
 
 *" I address the Count Oliva ? " she inquired, 
 
 I bowed in the affirmative. She looked at me keenly : she 
 had dark, brilliant eyes, in which the smoldering fires of many 
 a conquered passion still gleamed. 
 
 " You would see the Countess Romani, who is in retreat 
 here ? " 
 
 " If not inconvenient or out of rule " I began. 
 
 The shadow of a smile flitted across the nun's pale, intel- 
 lectual face ; it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. 
 
 f Not at all," she replied, in the same even monotone. 
 " The Countess Nina is, by her own desire, following a strict 
 rkgime. but to-day being a universal feast-day all rules are 
 somewhat relaxed. The reverend mother desires me to in- 
 form you that it is now the hour for mass — she has herself 
 already entered the chapeL If you will share in our devo- 
 tions, the countess shall afterward be informed of your pres- 
 ence here." 
 
 I could do no less than accede to this proposition, though 
 in truth it was unwelcome to me. I was in no humor for 
 either prayers or praise ; I thought moodily how startled even 
 this impassive nun might have been, could she have known 
 what manner of man it was that she thus invited to kneel in 
 the sanctuary. However, I said no word of objection, and 
 she bade me follow her. As we left the room I asked : 
 
 " Is the countess well ? " 
 
 " She seems so," returned Mere Marguerite ; " she follows 
 her religious duties with exactitude, and makes no complaint 
 of fatigue." 
 
 We were now crossing the hall. I ventured on another in- 
 quiry. 
 
 " She was a favorite pupil of yours, I believe ? " 
 
 The nun turned her passionless face toward me with an ail 
 of mild surprise and reproof. 
 
 " I have no favorites," she answered, coldly. " All the 
 children educated here share my attention and regard 
 equally." 
 
 I murmured an apology, and added with a forced smile : 
 
 "You must pardon my apparent inquisitiveness, but as the 
 future husband of the lady who was brought up under your 
 care, I am naturally interested in all that concerns her." 
 
 Again the searching eyes of the religieuse surveyed me ; she 
 sighed slightly, 
 
 " I am aware of the connection between you," she said, in 
 rather a pained tone. " Nina Romani belongs to the worlcj, 
 
*32 VENDETTA! 
 
 and follows the ways of the world. Of course, marriage is 
 the natural fulfillment of most young girls' destinies ; there 
 are comparatively few who are called out of the ranks to 
 serve Christ. Therefore, when Nina married the estimable 
 Count Romani, of whom report spoke ever favorably, we re- 
 joiced greatly, feeling that her future was safe in the hands 
 of a gentle and wise protector. May his soul rest in peace \ 
 But a second marriage for her is what I did not expect, and 
 .vhat I cannot in my conscience approve. You see I speak 
 irankly." 
 
 " I am honored that you do so, madame ! " I said, ear- 
 nestly, feeling a certain respect for this sternly composed yet 
 patient-featured woman ; " yet, though in general you may 
 find many reasonable objections to it, a second marriage is I 
 think, in the Countess Romani's case almost necessary. She 
 is utterly without a protector — she is very young and how 
 beautiful ! " 
 
 The nun's eyes grew solemn and almost mournful. 
 
 " Such beauty is a curse," she answered, with emphasis 
 " a fatal — a fearful curse ! As a child it made her wayward 
 As a woman it keeps her wayward still. Enough of this, 
 signor ! " and she bowed her head ; " excuse my plain speak- 
 ing. Rest assured that I wish you both happiness." 
 
 We had by this time reached the door of the chapel, through 
 which the sound of the pealing organ poured forth in 
 triumphal surges of melody. Mere Marguerite dipped her 
 fingers in the holy water, and signing herself with the cross, 
 pointed out a bench at the back of the church as one that 
 strangers were allowed to occupy. I seated myself, and 
 looked with a certain soothed admiration at the picturesque 
 scene before me. There was the sparkle of twinkling lights — ■ 
 the bloom and fragrance of flowers. There were silent rows 
 of nuns blue-robed and white-veiled, kneeling and absorbed 
 in prayer. Behind these a little cluster of youthful figures 
 n black, whose drooped heads were entirely hidden in veils 
 of flowing white muslin. Behind these again, one woman's 
 slight form arrayed in heavy mourning garments ; her veil 
 was black, yet not so thick but that I could perceive the 
 sheeny glitter of golden hair — that was my wife, I knew. 
 Pious angel ! how devout she looked ! I smiled in dreary 
 scorn as I watched her ; I cursed her afresh in the name of 
 the man I had killed. And above all, surrounded with the 
 luster of golden rays and in crusted jewels, the uncovered 
 Host shone serenely 1'ke the gleam of the morning star. The 
 
VENDETTA t «33 
 
 stately service went on — the organ music swept through and 
 through the church as though it were a strong wind striving 
 to set itself free — but amid it all I sat as one in a dark dream, 
 scarcely seeing, scarcely hearing — inflexible and cold as 
 marble. The rich plaintive voice of one of the nuns in the 
 choir, singing the Agnus Dei, moved me to a chill sort of 
 wonder. " Qiiitollis peccata mundi n — Who takest away the sin 
 of the world." No, no ! there are some sins that cannot be 
 taken away — the sins of faithless women, the " little " sins as 
 they are called nowadays — for we have grown very lenient 
 in some things, and very severe in others. We will imprison 
 the miserable wretch who steals five francs from our pockets, 
 but the cunning feminine thief who robs us of our prestige, 
 our name and honorable standing among our fellow-men, 
 escapes almost scot-free ; she cannot be put in prison, or 
 sentenced to hard labor — not she ! A pity it is that Christ 
 did not leave us some injunction as to what was to be done 
 with such women — not the penitent Magdalenes, but the 
 creatures whose mouths are full of lies even when they pre- 
 tend to pray — they who would be capable of trying to tempt 
 the priest who comes to receive their last confessions — they 
 who would even act out a sham repentance on their death- 
 beds in order to look well. What can be done with devils 
 such as these ? Much has been said latterly of the wrongs 
 perpetrated on women by men ; will no one take up the other 
 side of the question ? We, the stronger sex, are weak in this 
 — we are too chivalrous. When a woman flings herself 
 on our mercy we spare her and are silent. Tortures will 
 not wring her secrets out of us ; something holds us back 
 from betraying her. I know not what it can be — perhaps it 
 is the memory of our mothers. Whatever it is, it is certain 
 that many a man allows himself to be disgraced rather than 
 he will disgrace a woman. But a time is at hand when this 
 foolish chivalry of ours will die out. On changera tout cela J 
 When once our heavy masculine brains shall have grasped 
 the novel idea that woman has by her own wish and choice 
 resigned all claim on our respect or forbearance, we shall 
 have our revenge. We are slow to change the traditions of 
 our forefathers, but no doubt we shall soon manage to quench 
 the last spark of knightly reverence left in us for the female 
 sex, as this is evidently the point the women desire to bring us 
 to. We shall meet them on that low platfrom of the " equality " 
 they seek for, and we shall treat them with the unhesitating 
 and regardless familiarity they so earnestly invite ! 
 
f|t VENDETTA I 
 
 absorbed in thought, I knew not when the service ended 
 A hand touched me, and looking up I saw Mere Marguerite, 
 who whispered : 
 
 * Follow me, if you please." 
 
 g rose and obeyed her mechanically. Outside the chapel 
 door she said : 
 
 ** Pumy excuse me for hurrying you, but strangers are not 
 permitted to see the nuns and boarders passing out." 
 
 I bowed, and walked on beside her. Feeling forced to say 
 something, I asked : 
 
 " Have you many boarders at this holiday season ? " 
 
 " Only fourteen," she replied, " and they are children 
 whose parents live far away. Poor little ones ! " and the set 
 lines of the nun's stern face softened into tenderness as she 
 spoke. " We do our best to make them happy, but naturally 
 they feel lonely. We have generally fifty or sixty young girls 
 here, besides the day scholars." 
 
 " A great responsibility," I remarked. 
 
 " Very great indeed ! " and she sighed ; " almost terrible. 
 So much of a woman's after life depends on the early train 
 ing she receives. We do all we can, and yet in some cases 
 our utmost efforts are in vain ; evil creeps in, we know not how 
 — some unsuspected fault spoils a character that we judged 
 to be admirable, and we are often disappointed in our most 
 promising pupils. Alas! there is nothing entirely without 
 blemish in this world." 
 
 Thus talking, she showed me into a small, comfortable 
 looking room, lined with books and softly carpeted. 
 
 " This is one of our libraries," she explained. " The count- 
 ess will receive you here, as other visitors might disturb you 
 in the drawing-room. Pardon me," and her steady gaze had 
 something of compassion in it, " but you do not look well. 
 Can I send you some wine ? " 
 
 I declined this offer with many expressions of gratitude, 
 and assured her I was perfectly well. She hesitated, and at 
 last said, anxiously . 
 
 " I trust you were not offended at my remark concerning 
 Nina Romani's marriage with you? I fear I was too 
 hasty ? " 
 
 " Not so, madame," I answered, with all the earnestness J 
 felt. " Nothing is more pleasant to me than a frank opinion 
 
 frankly spoken. I have been so accustomed to deception " 
 
 Here I broke off and added hastily, " Pray do not think mQ 
 capable of judging you wrongly." 
 
VENDETTA 1 
 
 23$ 
 
 She seemed relieved, and smiling that shadowy, flitting 
 smile of hers, she said : 
 
 " No doubt you are impatient, signor; Nina shall come to 
 you directly," and with a slight salutation she left me. 
 
 Surely she was a good woman, I thought, and vaguely won 
 dered about her past history — that past which she had buried 
 forever under a mountain of prayers. What had she been 
 like when young — before she had shut herself within the con 
 vent walls — before she had set the crucifix like a seal on hei 
 heart ? Had she ever trapped a man's soul and strangled it 
 with lies ? I fancied not — her look was too pure and can- 
 did ; yet who could tell ? Were not Nina's eyes trained to 
 appear as though they held the very soul of truth ? 
 
 A few minutes passed. I heard the fresh voices of chil 
 dren singing in the next room : 
 
 " D'ou vient le petit Gesu t 
 Cejoli bouton de rose 
 Qui fleurit, enfant chert 
 Stir le cceur de notre mere Marie.** 
 
 Then came a soft rustle of silken garments, the door 
 opened, and my wife entered. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 She approached with her usual panther-like grace and sup- 
 ple movement, her red lips parted In a charming smile. 
 
 " So good of you to come ! " she began, holding out her 
 two hands as though she invited an embrace ; " and on 
 Christmas morning too ! " She paused, and seeing that I 
 did not move or speak, she regarded me with some alarm. 
 " What is the matter ? " she asked, in fainter r«nes ; " has 
 anything happened ? " 
 
 I looked at her. I saw that she was full of sudden fear, 
 I made no attempt to soothe her, I merely placed a chair. 
 
 " Sit down," I said, gravely, " I am the bearer of bad 
 news." 
 
 She sunk into the chair as though unnerved, and gazed 
 at me with terrified eyes. She trembled. Watching her 
 keenly, I observed all these outward signs of trepidation with 
 deep satisfaction. I saw plainly what was passing in her 
 mind. A great dread had seized her — the dread that I had 
 found out her treachery. So indeed I had, but the time had 
 
236 VENDETTA / 
 
 not yet come for her to know it. Meanwhile she suffered— 
 suffered acutely with that gnawing terror and suspense eating 
 into her soul. I said nothing, I waited for her to speak. 
 After a pause, during which her cheeks had lost their delicate 
 bloom, she said, forcing a smile as she spoke — 
 
 " Bad news ? You surprise me ! What can it be ? Some 
 unpleasantness with Guido? Have you seen him ? " 
 
 " I have seen him," I answered in the same formal and 
 serious tone ; " I have just left him. He sends you this" 
 and I held out my diamond ring that I had drawn off the dead 
 man's finger. 
 
 If she had been pale before, she grew paler now. All the 
 brilliancy of her complexion faded for the moment into an 
 awful haggardness. She took the ring with fingers that 
 shook visibly and were icy cold. There was no attempt at 
 smiling now. She drew a sharp quick breath ; she thought 
 I knew all. I was again silent. She looked at the diamond 
 signet with a bewildered air. 
 
 " I do not understand," she murmured, petulantly. " I 
 gave him this as a remembrance of his friend, my husband, 
 why does he return it ? " 
 
 Self-tortured criminal ! I studied her with a dark amuse- 
 ment, but answered nothing. Suddenly she looked up at me 
 and her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Why are you so cold and strange, Cesare ? " she pleaded, 
 in a sort of plaintive whimper. " Do not stand there like a 
 gloomy sentinel; kiss me and tell me at once what has hap- 
 pened." 
 
 Kiss her ! So soon after kissing the dead hand of her 
 lover ! No, I could not and would not. I remained standing 
 where I was, inflexibly silent. She glanced at me again, very 
 timidly, and whimpered afresh. 
 
 " Ah, you do not love me ! " she murmured. " You couid 
 not be so stern and silent if you loved me ! If there is in- 
 deed any bad news, you ought to break it to me gently and 
 kindly. I thought you would always make everything easy 
 for me " 
 
 " Such has been my endeavor, madame," I said interrupt- 
 ing her complaint. " From your own statement, I judged 
 that your adopted brother Guido Ferrari had rendered him- 
 self obnoxious to you. I promised that I would silence hira 
 — you remember i " I have kept my word. He is silenced-* 
 forever ! " 
 
 She started. 
 
VENDETTA! 
 
 " Silenced ? How ? You mean- 
 
 237 
 
 I moved away from my place behind her chair, and stood 
 go that I faced her as I spoke. 
 
 " I mean that he is dead." 
 
 She uttered a slight cry, not of sorrow but of wonderment 
 
 " Dead /" she exclaimed. " Not possible ! Dead 1 You 
 have killed him ? " 
 
 I bent my head gravely. " I killed him — yes ! But in 
 open combat, openly witnessed. Last night he insulted me 
 grossly ; we fought this morning. We forgave each other 
 before he died." 
 
 She listened attentively. A little color came back into 
 her cheeks. 
 
 " In what way did he insult you ? " she asked, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 I told her all, briefly. She still looked anxious. 
 
 " Did he mention my name ? " she said. 
 
 " I glanced at her troubled features in profound contempt. 
 She feared the dying man might have made some confession 
 to me ! I answered : 
 
 " No ; not after our quarrel. But I hear he went to your 
 house to kill you ! Not finding you there, he only cursed 
 you." 
 
 She heaved a sigh of relief. She was safe now, she 
 thought ! 
 
 Her red lips widened into a cruel smile. 
 
 " What bad taste ! " she said, coldly. " Why he should 
 curse me I cannot imagine ! I have always been kind to 
 him — too kind." 
 
 Too kind indeed ! kind enough to be glad when the object 
 of all her kindness was dead ! For she was glad ! I could 
 see that in the murderous glitter of her eyes. 
 
 "You are not sorry ? " I inquired, with an air of pretended 
 surprise. 
 
 " Sorry ? Not at all ! Why should I be ? He was a very 
 agreeable friend while my husband was alive to keep him in 
 order, but after my poor Fabio's death, his treatment of me 
 was quite unbearable." 
 
 Take care, beautiful hypocrite ! take care ! Take care 
 lest your " poor Fabio's " fingers should suddenly nip your 
 slim throat with a convulsive twitch that means death ! 
 Heaven only knows how I managed to keep my hands off her 
 at that moment ! Why, any groveling beast of the field had 
 more feeling than this wretch whom I had made my wife I 
 
«38 VENDETTA / 
 
 Even for Guido's sake — such are the strange inconsistencies 
 of the human heart — I could have slain her then. But I 
 restrained my fury ; I steadied my voice and said calmly : 
 
 " Then I was mistaken ? I thought you would be deeply 
 grieved, that my news would shock and annoy you greatly, 
 hence my gravity and apparent coldness. But it seems I 
 have done well ? " 
 
 She sprung up from her chair like a pleased child and 
 flung her arms round my neck. 
 
 " You are brave, you are brave ! " she exclaimed, in a sort 
 of exultation. " You could not have done otherwise ! He 
 insulted you and you killed him. That was right ! I love 
 you all the more for being such a man of honor ! " 
 
 I looked down upon her in loathing and disgust. Honor ! 
 Its very name was libeled coming from her lips. She did 
 not notice the expression of my face — she was absorbed, ex- 
 cellent actress as she was, in the part she had chosen to play. 
 
 " And so you were dull and sad because you feared to 
 grieve me ! Poor Cesare ! " she said, in child-like caressing 
 accents, such as she could assume when she chose. " But 
 now that you see I am not unhappy, you will be cheerful 
 again ? Yes ? Think how much I love you, and how happy 
 we will be ! And see, you have given me such lovely jewels, 
 so many of them too, that I scarcely dare offer you such a 
 trifle as this ; but as it really belonged to Fabio, and to Fa- 
 bio's father, whom you knew, I think you ought to have it. 
 Will you take it and wear it to please me ? " and she slipped 
 on my finger the diamond signet — my own ring 1 
 
 I could have laughed aloud ! but I bent my head gravely 
 as I accepted it. 
 
 " Only as a ^ ^ci cf your affection, cara mia" I said, 
 " though it has a terrible association for me. I took it from 
 Ferrari's hand when -" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know ! " she interrupted me with a little 
 shiver ; " it must have been trying for you to have seen him 
 dead. I think dead people look so horrid — the sight upsets 
 the nerves ! I remember when I was at school here, they 
 would take me to see a nun who died; it sickened me and 
 made me ill for days. I can quite understand your feelings. 
 But you must try and forget the matter. Duels are very 
 common occurrences, after all ! " 
 
 " Very common," I answered, mechanically, still regarding 
 the fair upturned face, the lustrous eyes, the rippling hair ; 
 " but they do not often end so fatally. The result of this one 
 
VENDETTA t ±ft 
 
 compels me to leave Naples for some days. I go to Avellino 
 to-night." 
 
 "To Avellino?" she exclaimed, with interest. "Oh, I 
 know it very well. I went there once with Fabio when I 
 was first married." 
 
 " And were you happy there ? " I inquired, coldly. 
 
 I remembered the time she spoke of — a time of such un- 
 reasoning, foolish joy ! 
 
 " Happy ? Oh, yes ; everything was so new to me then. 
 It was delightful to be my own mistress, and I was so glad 
 to be out of the convent." 
 
 " I thought you liked the nuns ? " I said. 
 
 " Some of them — yes. The reverend mother is a dear old 
 thing. But Mere Marguerite, the Vicaire as she is called — 
 the one that received you — oh, I do detest her ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! and why ? " 
 
 The red lips curled mutinously. 
 
 " Because she is so sly and silent. Some of the children 
 here adore her; but they must have something to love, you 
 know," and she laughed merrily. 
 
 "Must they?" 
 
 I asked the question automatically, merely for the sake of 
 saying something. 
 
 " Of course they must," she answered, gayly. " You fool- 
 ish Cesare ! The girls often play at being one another's 
 lovers, only they are careful not to let the nuns know their 
 game. It is very amusing. Since I have been here they 
 have what is called a ' craze ' for me. They give me flowers, 
 run after me in the garden, and sometimes kiss my dress, 
 and call me by all manner of loving names. I let them do 
 it because it vexes Madame la Vicaire; but of course it is 
 very foolish." 
 
 I was silent. I thought what a curse it was — this neces- 
 sity of loving. Even the poison of it must find its way into 
 the hearts of children — young things shut within the walls of 
 a secluded convent, and guarded by the conscientious care 
 of holy women. 
 
 " And the nuns ? " I said, uttering half my thoughts aloud. 
 * How do they manage without love or romance ? " 
 
 A wicked little smile, brilliant and disdainful, glittered in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Do they always manage without love or romance ? " she 
 asked, half indolently. " What of Abelard and Heloise, or 
 FraLippi?" 
 
240 VENDETTA i 
 
 Roused by something in her tone, I caught her round the 
 waist, and held her firmly while I said, with some sternness : 
 
 " And you — is it possible that you have sympathy with, or 
 find amusement in, the contemplation of illicit and dishonor- 
 able passion — tell me?" 
 
 She recollected herself in time ; her white eyelids drooped 
 demurely. 
 
 " Not I ! " she answered, with a grave and virtuous air ; 
 " how can you think so ? There is nothing to my mind so 
 horrible as deceit; no good ever comes of it." 
 
 I loosened her from my embrace. 
 
 " You are right," I said, calmly ; "lam glad your instincts 
 are so correct ! I have always hated lies." 
 
 " So have I ! " she declared, earnestly, with a frank and 
 open look ; " I have often wondered why people tell them. 
 They are so sure to be found out ! " 
 
 I bit my lips hard to shut in the burning accusations that 
 my tongue longed to utter. Why should I damn the actress 
 or the play before the curtain was ready to fall on both ? I 
 changed the subject of converse. 
 
 " How long do you propose remaining here in retreat ? " I 
 asked. " There is nothing now to prevent your returning to 
 Naples." 
 
 She pondered for some minutes before replying, then she 
 said: 
 
 " I told the superioress I came here for a week. I had 
 better stay till that time is expired. Not longer, because as 
 Guido is really dead, my presence is actually necessary in 
 the city." 
 
 " Indeed ! May I ask why ? " 
 
 She laughed a little consciously. 
 
 " Simply to prove his last will and testament," she replied. 
 ' Before he left for Rome, he gave it into my keeping." 
 
 A light flashed on my mind. 
 
 " And its contents ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Its contents make me the owner of everything he died 
 possessed of ! " she said, with an air of quiet yet malicious 
 triumph. 
 
 Unhappy Guido ! What trust he had reposed in this vile, 
 self-interested, heartless woman ! He had loved her, even 
 as I had loved her — she who was unworthy of any love ! I 
 controlled my rising emotion, and merely said with gravity : 
 
 "I congratulate you 1 May I be permitted to see this 
 document ? " 
 
VENDETTA! 2 4 I 
 
 " Certainly ; I can show it to you now. I have it here," and 
 she drew a Russia-leather letter-case from her pocket, and 
 opening it, handed me a sealed envelope. " Break the 
 seal ! " she added, with childish eagerness. " He closed it 
 up like that after I had read it." 
 
 With reluctant hand, and a pained piteousness at my 
 heart, I opened the packet. It was as she had said, a will 
 drawn up in perfectly legal form, signed and witnessed, 
 leaving everything unconditionally to " Nina, Countess 
 Romani, of the Villa Romani, Naples." I read it through 
 and returned it to her. 
 
 " He must have loved you ! " I said. 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " Of course," she said, airily. " But many people love me 
 —that is nothing new ; I am accustomed to be loved. But 
 you see," she went on, reverting to the will again, "it speci- 
 fies, ' everything he dies possessed of; ' that means all the 
 money left to him by his uncle in Rome, does it not ? " 
 
 I bowed. I could not trust myself to speak. 
 
 " I thought so," she murmured, gleefully, more to herself 
 than to me ; " and I have a right to all his papers and let- 
 ters." There she paused abruptly and checked herself. 
 
 I understood her. She wanted to get back her own letters 
 to the dead man, lest her intimacy with him should leak out 
 in some chance way for which she was unprepared. Cunning 
 devil ! I was almost glad she showed me to what a depth of 
 vulgar vice she had fallen. There was no question of pity 
 or forbearance in her case. If all the tortures invented by 
 savages or stern inquisitors could be heaped upon her at 
 once, such punishment would be light in comparison with 
 her crimes — crimes for which, mark you, the law gives you 
 no remedy but divorce, Tired of the wretched comedy, I 
 looked at my watch. 
 
 " It is time for me to take my leave of you," I said, in the 
 stiff, courtly manner I affected. " Moments fly fast in your 
 enchanting company ! But I have still to walk to Castella- 
 mare, there to rejoin my carriage, and I have many things to 
 attend to before my departure this evening. On my return 
 from Avellino shall I be welcome ? " 
 
 " You know it," she returned, nestling her head against 
 my shoulder, while for mere form's sake I was forced to 
 hold her in a partial embrace. " I only wish you were not 
 going at all. Dearest, do not stay long away — I shall be so 
 unhappy till you come back 1 " 
 
S 4 2 VENDETTA! 
 
 " Absence strengthens love, they say," I observed, with a 
 forced smile. " May it do so in our case. Farewell, caret 
 mia / Pray for me ; I suppose you do pray a great deal 
 here ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," she replied, naively ; " there is nothing else to 
 do." 
 
 I held her hands closely in my grasp. The engagement* 
 ring on her finger, and the diamond signet on my own, 
 flashed in the light like the crossing of swords. 
 
 " Pray then," I said, " storm the gates of heaven with 
 sweet-voiced pleadings for the repose of poor Ferrari's soul ! 
 Remember he loved you, though you never loved him. 
 For your sake he quarreled with me, his best friend — for 
 your sake he died ! Pray for him — who knows," and I 
 spoke in thrilling tones of earnestness — " who knows but that 
 his too-hastily departed spirit may not be near us now — hear- 
 ing our voices, watching our looks ? " 
 
 She shivered slightly, and her hands in mine grew cold. 
 
 "Yes, yes," I continued, more calmly; "you must not for- 
 get to pray for him — he was young and not prepared to die." 
 
 My words had some of the desired effect upon her — for 
 once her ready speech failed — she seemed as though she 
 sought for some reply and found none. I still held her hands. 
 
 " Promise me!" I continued ; " and at the same time pray 
 for your dead husband ! He and poor Ferrari were close 
 friends, you know ; it will be pious and kind of you to join 
 their names in one petition addressed to Him ' from whom 
 no secrets are hid,' and who reads with unerring eyes the 
 purity of your intentions. Will you do it ? " 
 
 She smiled, a forced, faint smile. 
 
 " I certainly will," she replied, in a low voice ; -" I promise 
 you." 
 
 I released her hands — I was satisfied. If she dared to 
 pray thus I felt — I knew that she would draw down upon her 
 soul the redoubled wrath of Heaven ; for I looked beyond 
 the grave ! The mere death of her body would be but a 
 slight satisfaction to me ; it was the utter destruction of her 
 wicked soul that I sought. She should never repent, I 
 swore ; she should never have the chance of casting off her 
 vileness as a serpent casts its skin, and, reclothing herself in 
 innocence, presume to ask admittance into that Eternal 
 Gloryland whither my little child had gone — never, never ! 
 No church should save her, no priest should absolve her-* 
 qot while / lived ! 
 
VENDETTA I 243 
 
 She watched me as I fastened my coat and began to draw 
 on my gloves. 
 
 "Are you going now ? " she asked, somewhat timidly. 
 
 " Yes, I am going now, cara mia" I said. " Why ! what 
 makes you look so pale ? " 
 
 For she had suddenly turned very white. 
 
 " Let me see your hand again," she demanded, with fever, 
 ish eagerness, " the nand on which I placed the ring ! " 
 
 Smilingly and with readiness I took off the glove I had 
 just put on. 
 
 " What odd fancy possesses you now, little one ? " I asked, 
 with an air of playfulness. 
 
 She made no answer, but took my hand and examined it 
 closely and curiously. Then she looked up, her lips twitched 
 nervously, and she laughed a little hard mirthless laugh. 
 
 "Your hand," she murmured, incoherently, "with — that 
 — signet — on it — is exactly like — like Fabio's ! " 
 
 And before I had time to say a word she went off into a 
 violent fit of hysterics — sobs, little cries, and laughter all in- 
 termingled in that wild and reasonless distraction that gener- 
 ally unnerves the strongest man who is not accustomed to it. 
 I rang the bell to summon assistance ; a lay-sister answered 
 it, and seeing Nina's condition, rushed for a glass of water 
 and summoned Madame la Vicaire. This latter, entering with 
 her quiet step and inflexible demeanor, took in the situation 
 at a glance, dismissed the lay-sister, and possessing herself 
 of the tumbler of water, sprinkled the forehead of the inter- 
 esting patient, and forced some drops between her clinched 
 teeth. Then turning to me she inquired, with some stateli- 
 ness of manner, what had caused the attack ? 
 
 " I really cannot tell you, madame," I said, with an air of 
 affected concern and vexation. " I certainly told the coun- 
 tess of the unexpected death of a friend, but she bore the 
 news with exemplary resignation. The circumstance that 
 appears to have so greatly distressed her is that she finds, or 
 says she finds, a resemblance between my hand and the hand 
 ©f her deceased husband. This seems to me absurd, but 
 there is no accounting for ladies' caprices." 
 
 And I shrugged my shoulders as though I were annoyed 
 and impatient. 
 
 Over the pale, serious face of the nun there flitted a smile 
 in which there was certainly the ghost of sarcasm. 
 
 " All sensitiveness and tenderness of heart, you see ! " she 
 said* in her chill, passionless tones, which, icy as they were, 
 
244 VENDETTA ! 
 
 somehow conveyed to my ear another meaning than that in* 
 plied by the words she uttered. " We cannot perhaps un- 
 derstand the extreme delicacy of her feelings, and we fail to 
 do justice to them." 
 
 Here Nina opened her eyes, and looked at us with piteous 
 plaintiveness, while her bosom heaved with those long, deep 
 sighs which are the finishing chords of the Sonata Hysteria. 
 
 "You are better, I trust? " continued the nun, without any 
 sympathy in her monotonous accents, and addressing her 
 with some reserve. " You have greatly alarmed the Count 
 Oliva." 
 
 " I am sorry " began Nina, feebly. 
 
 I hastened to her side. 
 
 " Pray do not speak of it ! " I urged, forcing something 
 like a lover's ardor into my voice. " I regret beyond 
 measure that it is my misfortune to have hands like those of 
 your late husband ! I assure you I am quite miserable 
 about it. Can you forgive me ? " 
 
 She was recovering quickly, and she was evidently con- 
 scious that she had behaved somewhat foolishly. She smiled 
 a weak pale smile ; but she looked very scared, worn and ill. 
 She rose from her chair slowly and languidly. 
 
 " I think I will go to my room," she said, not regarding 
 Mere Marguerite, who had withdrawn to a little distance, 
 and who stood rigidly erect, immovably featured, with her 
 silver crucifix glittering coldly on her still breast. 
 
 " Good-bye, Cesare ! Please forget my stupidity, and write 
 to me from Avellino." 
 
 I took her outstretched hand, and bowing over it, touched 
 it gently with my lips. She turned toward the door, when 
 suddenly a mischievous idea seemed to enter her mind. She 
 looked at Madame la Vicaire and then came back to me. 
 
 " Addio, amor mio /" she said, with a sort of rapturous 
 emphasis, and throwing her arms round my neck she kissed 
 me almost passionately. 
 
 Then she glanced maliciously at the nun, who had lowered 
 her eyes till they appeared fast shut, and breaking into a low 
 peal of indolently amused laughter, waved her hand to me, 
 and left the room. 
 
 I was somewhat confused. The suddenness and warmth 
 of her caress had been, I knew, a mere monkeyish trick, de- 
 signed to vex the religious scruples of Mere Marguerite. I 
 knew not what to say to the stately woman who remained 
 confronting me with downcast eyes and lips that moved 
 
VENDETTA f 245 
 
 dumbly as though in prayer. As the door closed after my 
 wife's retreating figure, the nun looked up ; there was a slight 
 flush on her pallid cheeks, and to my astonishment, tears 
 glittered on her dark lashes. 
 
 " Madame," I began, earnestly, " I assure you " 
 
 " Say nothing, signor," she interrupted me with a slight 
 deprecatory gesture ; " it is quite unnecessary. To mock a 
 rrfigieuse is a common amusement with young girls and women 
 of the world. I am accustomed to it, though I feel its 
 I cruelty more than I ought to do. Ladies like the Countess 
 Romani think that we — we, the sepulchers of womanhood — ■ 
 sepulchers that we have emptied and cleansed to the best of 
 our ability, so that they may more fittingly hold the body of 
 the crucified Christ ; these grandes dames, I say, fancy that 
 we are ignorant of all they know — that we cannot understand 
 love, tenderness or passion. They never reflect — how should 
 they ? — that we also have had our histories — histories, per- 
 haps, that would make angels weep for pity ! I, even I " 
 
 and she struck her breast fiercely, then suddenly recollecting 
 herself, she continued coldly: "The rule of our convent, 
 signor, permits no visitor to remain longer than one hour— 
 that hour has expired. I will summon a sister to show you 
 the way out." 
 
 " Wait one instant, madame," I said, feeling that to enact 
 my part thoroughly I ought to attempt to make some defense 
 of Nina's conduct ; " permit me to say a word ! My fiande 
 is very young and thoughtless. I really cannot think that 
 her very innocent parting caress to me had anything in it 
 that was meant to purposely annoy you." 
 
 The nun glanced at me — her eyes flashed disdainfully. 
 
 " You think it was all affection for you, no doubt, signor ? 
 
 very natural supposition, and — I should be sorry to un- 
 deceive you." 
 
 She paused a moment and then resumed : 
 
 " You seem an earnest man — may be you are destined to 
 be the means of saving Nina ; I could say much — yet it is 
 wise to be silent. If you love her do not flatter her ; her 
 overweening vanity is her ruin. A firm, wise, ruling master- 
 hand may perhaps — who knows ? " She hesitated and sighed, 
 then added, gently, "Farewell, signor! Benedicite /" and 
 making the sign of the cross as I respectfully bent irxy head 
 to receive her blessing, she passed noiselessly from the 
 room. 
 
 One moment; later, and a lame and aged lay-sjster came tq 
 
246 VENDETTA ! 
 
 escort me to the gate. As I passed down the stone corridor 
 a side door opened a very little way, and two fair young faces 
 peeped out at me. For an instant I saw four laughing bright 
 eyes ; I heard a smothered voice say, " Oh ! c'est un vieux 
 papa / " and then my guide, who though lame was not blind, 
 perceived the opened door and shut it with an angry bang, 
 which, however, did not drown the ringing merriment that 
 echoed from within. On reaching the outer gates I turned 
 to my venerable companion, and laying four twenty-franc 
 pieces in her shriveled palm, I said : 
 
 " Take these to the reverend mother for me, and ask that 
 mass may be said in the chapel to-morrow for the repose of 
 the soul of him whose name is written here." 
 
 And I gave her Guido Ferrari's visiting-card, adding in 
 lower and more solemn tones : 
 
 " He met with a sudden and unprepared death. Of your 
 charity, pray also for the man who killed him ! " 
 
 The old woman looked startled, and crossed herself de- 
 voutly ; but she promised that my wishes should be ful- 
 filled, and I bade her farewell and passed out, the convent 
 gates closing with a dull clang behind me. I walked on a 
 few yards, and then paused, looking back. What a peace- 
 ful home it seemed ; how calm and sure a retreat, with the 
 white Noisette roses crowning its ancient gray walls ! Yet 
 what embodied curses were pent up in there in the shape of 
 girls growing to be women ; women for whom all the care, 
 stern training and anxious solicitude of the nuns would be 
 unavailing; women who would come forth from even that 
 abode of sanctity with vile natures and animal impulses, and 
 who would hereafter, while leading a life of vice and hypo- 
 crisy, hold up this very strictness of their early education as 
 proof ni their unimpeachable innocence and virtue! To 
 such, what lesson is learned by the daily example of the nuns 
 who nortify their flesh, fast, pray and weep ? No lesson at 
 all — -nothing save mockery and contempt. To a girl in the 
 heyday of youth and beauty the life of a religieuse seems 
 riaiculous. " The poor nuns ! " she says, with a laugh ; 
 they are so ignorant. Their time is over — mine has not yet 
 begun." Few, very few, among the thousands of young 
 women who leave the scene of their quiet schooldays for the 
 social whirligig of the world, ever learn to take life in earnest, 
 love in earnest, sorrow in earnest. To most of them life is 
 a large dressmaking and millinery establishment; love a 
 question of money an4 diamonds ; sorrow a §okmn calcuU- 
 
VENDETTA I 247 
 
 tion as to how much or how little mourning is considered 
 becoming or fashionable. And for creatures such as these 
 we men work — work till our hairs are gray and our backs 
 bent with toil — work till all the joy and zest of living has 
 gone from us, and our reward is — what ? Happiness ? — 
 seldom. Infidelity ? — often. Ridicule ? Truly we ought to 
 be glad if we are only ridiculed and thrust back to occupy 
 the second place in our own houses ; our lady-wives call that 
 " kind treatment." Is there a married woman living who 
 does not now and then throw a small stone of insolent satire 
 at her husband when his back is turned ? What, madame ? 
 You, who read these words — you say with indignation : 
 " Certainly there is, and / am that woman ! " Ah, truly ? I 
 salute you profoundly ! — you are, no doubt, the one excep- 
 tion 1 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Avellino is one of those dreamy, quiet and picturesque 
 towns which have not as yet been desecrated by the Vandal 
 tourist. Persons holding " through tickets " from Messrs. 
 Cook or Gaze do not stop there — there are no " sights " save 
 the old sanctuary called Monte Virgine standing aloft on its 
 rugged hill, with all the memories of its ancient days clinging 
 to it like a wizard's cloak, and wrapping it in a sort of mys- 
 terious meditative silence. It can look back through a vista 
 of eventful years to the eleventh century, when it was erected, 
 so the people say, on the ruins of a temple of Cybele. But 
 what do the sheep and geese that are whipped abroad in 
 herds by the drovers Cook and Gaze know of Monte Virgine 
 or Cybele ? Nothing — and they care less ; and quiet Avellino 
 escapes from their depredations, thankful that it is not 
 marked on the business map of the drovers' " runs." Shut 
 in by the lofty Apennines, built on the slope of the hill that 
 arinds gently down into a green and fruitful valley through 
 jpwhich the river Sabato rushes and gleams white against cleft 
 Crocks that look like war-worn and deserted castles, a drowsy 
 peace encircles it, and a sort of stateliness, which, compared 
 with the riotous fun and folly of Naples only thirty miles 
 away, is as though the statue of a nude Egeria were placed 
 in rivalry with the painted waxen image of a half-dressed 
 ballet-dancer. Few lovelier sights are to be seen in nature 
 than a sunset from one of the smaller hills round Avellino— 
 
248 VENDETTA f 
 
 when the peaks of the Apennines seem to catch fire from the 
 flaming clouds, and below them, the valleys are full of those 
 tender purple and gray shadows that one sees on the canvases 
 of Salvator Rosa, while the town itself looks like a bronzed 
 carving on an old shield, outlined clearly against the dazzling 
 luster of the sky. To this retired spot I came — glad to rest 
 for a time from my work of vengeance — glad to lay down my 
 burden of bitterness for a brief space, and become, as it 
 were, human again, in the sight of the near mountains. For 
 within their close proximity, things common, things mean 
 seem to slip from the soul — a sort of largeness pervades the 
 thoughts, the cramping prosiness of daily life has no room to 
 assert its sway — a grand hush falls on the stormy waters of 
 passion, and like a chidden babe the strong man stands, 
 dwarfed to an infinite littleness in his own sight, before those 
 majestic monarchs of the landscape whose large brows are 
 crowned with the blue circlet of heaven. 
 
 I took up my abode in a quiet, almost humble lodging, 
 living simply, and attended only by Vincenzo. I was tired 
 of the ostentation I had been forced to practice in Naples in 
 order to attain my ends — and it was a relief to me to be for a 
 time as though I were a poor man. The house in which I 
 found rooms that suited me was a ramblingly built, pictur- 
 esque little place, situated on the outskirts of the town, and 
 the woman who owned it, was, in her way, a character. She 
 was a Roman, she told me, with pride flashing in her black 
 eyes — I could guess that at once by her strongly marked 
 features, her magnificently molded figure, and her free, firm 
 tread — that step which is swift without being hasty, which is 
 the manner born of Rome. She told me her history in a few 
 words, with such eloquent gestures that she seemed to live 
 through it again as she spoke : her husband had been a 
 worker in a marble quarry — one of his fellows had let a huge 
 piece of the rock fall on him, and he was crushed to death. 
 
 " And well do I know," she said, " that he killed my Toni 
 purposely, for he would have loved me had he dared. Bu^L^ 
 am a common woman, see you — and it seems to me one ca^j 
 not lie. And when my love's poor body was scarce covered^ 
 in the earth, that miserable one — the murderer — came to me 
 — he offered marriage. I accused him of his crime — he de- 
 nied it — he said the rock slipped from his hands, he knew 
 not how. I struck him on the mouth, and bade him leave 
 my sight and take my curse with him ! He is dead now — and 
 surely if the saints have heard me, his soul is not in heaven 1 ''' 
 
# 
 
 V ac 
 
 VENDETTA 1 249 
 
 Vhus she spoke with flashing eyes and purposeful energy, 
 whHe with her strong brown arms she threw open the wide 
 casement of the sitting-room I had taken, and bade me view 
 her orchard. It was a fresh green strip of verdure and 
 foliage — about? eight acres of good land, planted entirely with 
 apple-trees. 
 
 " Yes, truly ! " she said, showing her white teeth in a pleased 
 smile as I made the admiring remark she expected. " Avel' 
 lino has long had a name for its apples — but, thanks to the 
 Holy Mother, I think in the season there is no fruit in all 
 the neighborhood finer than mine. The produce of it brings 
 me almost enough to live upon — that and the house, when 1 
 can find signori willing to dwell with me. But few strangers 
 come hither ; sometimes an artist, sometimes a poet — such 
 as these are soon tired of gayety, and are glad to rest. To 
 common persons I would not open my door — not for pride, 
 ah, no ! but when one has a girl, one cannot be too careful," 
 
 " You have a daughter, then ? " 
 
 Her fierce eyes softened. 
 
 " One — my Lilla. I call her my blessing, and too good 
 for me. Often I fancy that it is because she tends them that 
 the trees bear so well, and the apples are so sound and sweet ! 
 And when she drives the load of fruit to market, and sits so 
 smilingly behind the team, it seems to me that her very face 
 brings luck to the sale." 
 
 I smiled at the mother's enthusiasm, and sighed. I had no 
 fair faiths left — I could not even believe in Lilla. My land- 
 lady, Signora Monti as she was called, saw that I looked 
 fatigued, and left me to myself — and during my stay I saw 
 very little of her, Vincenzo constituting himself my major- 
 domo, or rather becoming for my sake a sort of amiable slave, 
 always looking to the smallest details of my comfort, and 
 studying my wishes with an anxious solicitude that touched 
 while it gratified me. I had been fully three days in my re- 
 treat before he ventured to enter upon any conversation with 
 e, for he had observed that I always sought to be alone, 
 
 at I took long, solitary rambles through the woods and 
 across the hills — and, not daring to break through my taci- 
 turnity, he had contented himself by merely attending to my 
 material comforts in silence. One afternoon, however, after 
 clearing away the remains of my light luncheon, he lingered 
 in the room. 
 
 " The eccellenza has not yet seen Lilla Monti ? " he asked, 
 hesitatingly. 
 
250 VENDETTA ! 
 
 I looked at him in some surprise. There was a blush on 
 his olive-tinted cheeks and an unusual sparkle in his eyes. 
 For the first time I realized that this valet of mine was a 
 handsome young fellow. 
 
 " Seen Lilla Monti ! " I repeated, half absently ; " oh, you 
 mean the child of the landlady ? No. I have not seen her. 
 Why do you ask ? " 
 
 Vincenzo smiled. " Pardon, eccellenza ! but she is beau- 
 tiful, and there is a saying in my province : Be the heart 
 \eavy as stone, the sight of a fair face will lighten it ! " 
 
 I gave an impatient gesture. " All folly, Vincenzo ! Beauty 
 is the curse of the world. Read history, and you shall find 
 the greatest conquerors and sages ruined and disgraced by 
 its snares." 
 
 He nodded gravely. He probably thought of the an* 
 nouncement I had made at the banquet of my own approach- 
 ing marriage, and strove to reconcile it with the apparent 
 inconsistency of my present observation. But he was too 
 discreet to utter his mind aloud — he merely said : 
 
 " No doubt you are right, eccellenza. Still one is glad to 
 see the roses bloom, and the stars shine, and the foam-bells 
 sparkle on the waves — so one is glad to see Lilla Monti." 
 
 I turned round in my chair to observe him more closely— 
 the flush deepened on his cheek as I regarded him. I 
 laughed with a bitter sadness. 
 
 " In love, amico, art thou ? So soon ! — three days — and 
 thou hast fallen a prey to the smile of Lilla 1 I am sorry for 
 thee ! " 
 
 He interrupted me eagerly. 
 
 II The eccellenza is in error ! I would not dare — she is 
 too innocent — she knows nothing ! She is like a little bird 
 in the nest, so soft and tender — a word of love would frighten 
 her; I should be a coward to utter it." 
 
 Well, well ! I thought, what was the use of sneering at the 
 poor fellow ! Why, because my own love had turned to ashes 
 in my grasp, should I mock at those who fancied they haA^ 
 found the golden fruit of the Hesperides ? Vincenzo, once aB 
 soldier, now half courier, half valet, was something of a poet^ 
 at heart ; he had the grave meditative turn of mind common 
 to Tuscans, together with that amorous fire that ever burns 
 under their lightly worn mask of seeming reserve. 
 
 I roused myself to appear interested. 
 
 " I see, Vincenzo," I said, with a kindly air of banter, " that 
 the sight of Lilla Monti more than compensates you for that 
 
ft 
 
 VENDETTA P »$; 
 
 portion of the Neapolitan carnival which you lose by being 
 here. But why you should wish me to behold this paragon 
 of maidens I know not, unless you would have me regret my 
 own lost youth." 
 
 A curious and perplexed expression flitted over his face, 
 At last he said firmly, as though his mind were made up i 
 
 " The eccellenza must pardon me for seeing what perhaps 
 I ought not to have seen, but ■" 
 
 " But what ? " I asked. 
 
 " Eccellenza, you have not lost your youth." 
 
 I turned my head toward him again — he was looking at UK 
 in some alarm — he feared some outburst of anger. 
 
 " Well ! " I said, calmly. " That is your idea, is it ? and 
 why?" 
 
 " Eccellenza, I saw you without your spectacles that day 
 when you fought with the unfortunate Signor Ferrari. I 
 watched you when you fired. Your eyes are beautiful and 
 terrible — the eyes of a young man, though your hair is white." 
 
 Quietly I took off my glaases and laid them on the table 
 beside me. 
 
 " As you have seen me once without them, you can see me 
 again," I observed, gently. " I wear them for a special pur- 
 pose. Here in Avellino the purpose does not hold. Thu9 
 far I confide in you. But beware how you betray my confi- 
 dence." 
 
 " Eccellenza ! " cried Vincenzo, in truly pained accents, and 
 with a grieved look. 
 
 I rose and laid my hand on his arm. 
 
 " There ! I was wrong — forgive me. You are honest; you 
 have served your country well enough to know the value of 
 fidelity and duty. But when you say I have not lost my youth, 
 you are wrong, Vincenzo ! I have lost it — it has been killed 
 within me by a great sorrow. The strength, the suppleness 
 of limb, the brightness of eye, these are mere outward things ; 
 but in the heart and soul are the chill and drear bitterness di 
 eserted age. Nay, do not smile ; I am in truth very old — so 
 Id that I tire of my length of days ; yet again, not too old to 
 appreciate your affection, amico, and " — here I forced a faint 
 smile — " when I see the maiden Lilla, I will tell you frankly 
 what I think of her." 
 
 Vincenzo stooped his head, caught my hand within his own, 
 and kissed it, then left the room abruptly, to hide the tears 
 that my words had brought to his eyes. He was sorry for me : 
 I could see, and I judged him rightly when I thought that the 
 
£$i VENDETTA I 
 
 very mystery surrounding me increased his attachment. Ofe 
 
 the whole, I was glad he had seen me undisguised, as it was 
 a relief to me to be without my smoked glasses for a time, and 
 during all the rest of my stay at Avellino I never wore them 
 once. 
 
 One day I saw Lilla. I had strolled up to a quaint church 
 situated on a rugged hill and surrounded by fine old chestnut 
 trees, where there was a picture of the Scourging of Christ 
 said to have been the work of Fra Angelico. The little 
 sanctuary was quite deserted when I entered it, and I paused 
 on the threshold, touched by the simplicity of the place and 
 soothed by the intense silence. I walked on my tiptoe up to 
 the corner where hung the picture I had come to see, and as 
 I did so a girl passed me with a light step, carrying a basket 
 of fragrant winter narcissi and maiden-hair fern. Something in 
 her graceful, noiseless movements caused me to look after her r 
 but she had turned her back to me and was kneeling at the 
 shrine consecrated to the Virgin, having placed her flowers on 
 the lowest step of the altar. She was dressed in peasant cos- 
 tume — a simple, short blue skirt and scarlet bodice, relieved 
 by the white kerchief that was knotted about her shoulders; 
 and round her small well-shaped head the rich chestnut hail 
 was coiled in thick shining braids. 
 
 I felt that I must see her face, and for that reason went 
 back to the church door and waited till she should pass out 
 Very soon she came toward me, with the same light timid 
 step that I had often before noticed, and her fair young 
 features were turned fully upon me. What was there in those 
 clear candid eyes that made me involuntarily bow my head in 
 a reverential salutation as she passed ? I know not. It was 
 not beauty — for though the child was lovely I had seen 
 lovelier ; it was something inexplicable and rare — something 
 of a maidenly composure and sweet dignity that I had nevei 
 beheld on any woman's face before. Her cheeks flushed 
 softly as she modestly returned my salute, and when she w; 
 once outside the church door she paused, her small whi 
 fingers still clasping the carven brown beads of her rosary 
 She hesitated a moment, and then spoke shyly yet brightly : 
 
 " If the eccellenza will walk yet a little further up the hill 
 he will see a finer view of the mountains." 
 
 Something familiar in her look — a sort of reflection of hei 
 mother's likeness— made me sure of her identity. I willed 
 
 " Ah ! you are Lilla Monti ? ,? 
 
 She blushed again. 
 
 7^ 
 
VENDETTA l *g| 
 
 u Si, signor. I am Lilla." 
 
 I let my eyes dwell on her searchingly and almost sadly 
 Vincenzo was right : the girl was beautiful, not with the 
 forced hot-house beauty of the social world and its artificial 
 constraint, but with the loveliness and fresh radiance which 
 nature gives to those of her cherished ones who dwell witi 
 her in peace. I had seen many exquisite women — women o\ 
 f uno-like form and face — women whose eyes were basilisks to 
 draw and compel the souls of men — but I had never seen 
 any so spiritually fair as this little peasant maiden, who 
 stood fearlessly yet modestly regarding me with the innocent 
 inquiry of a child who suddenly sees something new, to which 
 it is unaccustomed. She was a little fluttered by my earnest 
 gaze, and with a pretty courtesy turned to descend the hill 
 I said gently : 
 
 " You are going home, fauciulla mia 9 M 
 
 The kind protecting tone in which I spoke reassured her, 
 She answered readily : 
 
 " Si signor. My mother waits for me to help her with th* 
 eccellenza's dinner." 
 
 I advanced and took the little hand that held the rosary, 
 
 " What ! " I exclaimed, playfully, " do you still work hard, 
 little Lilla, even when the apple season is over ? " 
 
 She laughed musically. 
 
 " Oh ! I love work. It is good for the temper. People 
 are so cross when their hands are idle. And many are ill for 
 the same reason. Yes, truly ! " and she nodded her head 
 with grave importance, " it is often so. Old Pietro, the cob- 
 bler, took to his bed when he had no shoes to mend — yes ; 
 he sent for the priest and said he would die, not for want of 
 money---oh no ! he has plenty, he is quite rich — but because 
 he had nothing to do. So my mother and I found some 
 shoes with holes, and took them to him ; he sat up in bed to 
 nend them, and now he is as well as ever ! And we are 
 .'areful to give him something always." 
 
 She laughed again, and again looked grave. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " she said, with a wise shake of her little 
 glossy head, " one cannot live without work. My mother 
 says that good women are never tired, it is only wicked per- 
 sons who are lazy. And that reminds me I must make 
 haste to return and prepare the eccellenza's coffee." 
 
 " Do you make my coffee, little one ? " I asked, " and does 
 aot Vincenzo help you ? " 
 
 The faintest suspicion of a blush tinged her prefty cheeks, 
 
254 VENDETTA t 
 
 " Oh, he is very good, Vincenzo," she said, demurely^ 
 with downcast eyes ; " he is what we call buort amico, yes, 
 ■ndeed ! But he is often glad when I make coffee for him 
 also ; he likes it so much ! He says I do it so well ! But 
 perhaps the eccellenza will prefer Vincenzo ? " 
 
 I laughed. She was so naive, so absorbed in her little 
 duties — such a child altogether. 
 
 " Nay, Lilla, I am proud to think you make anything for 
 me. I shall enjoy it more now that I know what kind hands 
 have been at work. But you must not spoil Vincenzo — you 
 will turn his head if you make his coffee too often." 
 
 She looked surprised. She did not understand. Evi- 
 dently to her mind Vincenzo was nothing but a good-natured 
 young fellow, whose palate could be pleased by her culinary 
 skill ; she treated him, I dare say, exactly as she would have 
 treated one of her own sex. She seemed to think over 
 my words, as one who considers a conundrum, then she 
 apparently gave it up as hopeless, and shook her head 
 lightly as though dismissing the subject. 
 
 " Will the eccellenza visit the Punto d'Angelo ? " she said 
 brightly, as she turned to go. 
 
 I had never heard of this place, and asked her to what she 
 alluded. 
 
 " It is not far from here," she explained, " it is the view I 
 spoke of before. Just a little further up the hill you will see 
 a flat gray rock, covered with blue gentians. No one knows 
 how they grow — they are always there, blooming in summer 
 and winter. But it said that one of God's own great angels 
 comes once in every month at midnight to bless the Monte 
 Vergine, and that he stands on that rock. And of course 
 wherever the angels tread there are flowers, and no storm 
 can destroy them — not even an avalanche. That is why the 
 people call it the Punto d'Angelo. It will please you to see 
 it, eccellenza — it is but a walk of a little ten minutes." 
 
 And with a smile, and a courtesy as pretty and as light as 
 a flower might make to the wind, she left me, half running, ^^ 
 half dancing down the hill, and singing aloud for sheer happi- ^ 
 ness and innocence of heart. Her pure lark-like notes floated 
 upward toward me where I stood, wistfully watching her as 
 she disappeared. The warm afternoon sunshine caught 
 lovingly at her chestnut hair, turning it to a golden bronze, 
 and touched up the whiteness of her throat and arms, and 
 brightened the scarlet of her bodice, as she descended the 
 grassy slope, and was at last lost to my view amid the foliage 
 N f the surrounding tree#, , 
 
VENDETTA t 93$' 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 I sighed heavily as I resumed my walk. I realized a£ 
 that I had lost. Tkis lovely child with her simple fresh 
 nature, why had I not met such a one and wedded her instead 
 of the vile creature who had been my soul's undoing ? Tht 
 answer came swiftly. Even if I had seen her when I was 
 free, I doubt if I should have known her value. We me* 
 of the world who have social positions to support, we see 
 little or nothing in the peasant type of womanhood ; we must 
 marry "ladies," so-called — educated girls who aie as well 
 versed in the world's ways as ourselves, if not more so. 
 And so we get the Cleopatras, the Du Barrys, the Pom- 
 padours, while unspoiled maidens such as Lilla too often 
 become the household drudges of common mechanics or 
 day-laborers, living and dying in the one routine of hard 
 work, and often knowing and caring for nothing better than 
 the mountain-hut, the farm-kitchen, or the covered stall in 
 the market-place. Surely it is an ill-balanced world — so 
 many mistakes are made ; Fate plays us so many apparently 
 unnecessary tricks, and we are all of us such blind madmen, 
 knowing not whither we are going from one day to another ! 
 I am told that it is no longer fashionable to believe in a 
 devil — but I care nothing for fashion ! A devil there is I 
 am sure, who for some inscrutable reason has a share in the 
 ruling of this planet — a devil who delights in mocking us 
 from the cradle to the grave. And perhaps we are never so 
 hopelessly, utterly fooled as in our marriages ! 
 
 Occupied in various thoughts, I scarcely saw where I 
 wandered, till a flashing glimmer of blue blossoms recalled 
 me to the object of my walk. I had reached the Punto 
 d'Angelo. It was, as Lilla had said, a flat rock bare in every 
 place save at the summit, where it was thickly covered with 
 ^the lovely gentians, flowers that are rare in this part of Italy* 
 Here then the fabled angel paused in his flight to bless 
 the venerable sanctuary of Monte Vergine. I stopped and 
 looked around me. The view was indeed superb — from the 
 leafy bosom of the valley, the green hills like smooth, un- 
 dulating billows rolled upward, till their emerald verdure 
 was lost in the dense purple shadows and tall peaks of the 
 Apennines \ the town of Avellino lay at my feet, small yet 
 
456 VENDETTA t 
 
 clearly defined as a miniature painting on porclain ; and a 
 little further beyond and above me rose the gray tower of the 
 Monte Vergine itself, the one sad and solitary-looking object 
 in all the luxuriant riante landscape. 
 
 I sat down to rest, not as an intruder on the angel's flower- 
 embroidered throne, but on a grassy knoll close by. And 
 then I bethought me of a packet I had received from Naples 
 that morning — a packet that I desired yet heskated to open. 
 It had been sent by the Marquis D'Avencourt, accompanied 
 by a courteous letter, which informed me that Ferrari's body 
 had been privately buried with all the last religious rites in 
 the cemetery, " close to the funeral vault of the Romani 
 family," wrote D'Avencourt, " as, from all we can hear or 
 discover, such seems to have been his own desire. He was, 
 it appears, a sort of adopted brother of the lately deceased 
 count, and on being informed of this circumstance, we buried 
 him in accordance with the sentiments he would no doubt 
 have expressed had he considered the possible nearness of 
 his own end at the time of the combat." 
 
 With regard to the packet inclosed, D'Avencourt continued 
 — " The accompanying letters were found in Ferrari's breast- 
 pocket, and on opening the first one, in the expectation of 
 finding some clew as to his last wishes, we came to the con- 
 clusion that you, as the future husband of the lady whose 
 signature and handwriting you will here recognize, should 
 be made aware of the contents, not only for your own sake, 
 but in justice to the deceased. If all the letters are of the 
 same tone as the one I unknowingly opened, I have no doubt 
 Ferrari considered himself a sufficiently injured man. But 
 of that you will judge for yourself, though, if I might venture 
 so far in the way of friendship, I should recommend you to 
 give careful consideration to the inclosed correspondence 
 before tying the matrimonial knot to which you alluded the 
 other evening. It is not wise to walk on the edge of a pre- 
 cipice with one's eyes shut ! Captain Ciabatti was the first 
 to inform me of what I now know for a fact — namely, that 
 Ferrari left a will in which everything he possessed is made 
 over unconditionally to the Countess Romani, You will of 
 course draw your own conclusions, and pardon me if I am 
 guilty of trop de zele in your service. I have now only to tell 
 you that all the unpleasantness of this affair is passing over 
 very smoothly and without scandal — I have taken care of 
 that. You need not prolong your absence further than you 
 feel inclined, and I, for one, shall be charmed to welcome 
 
VAMBMTTA I §5) 
 
 you back to Naples, With every sentiment ot the higher 
 consideration and regard, £ am, my dear conte, 
 
 " Your very true friend and servitor, 
 
 " Philippe D'Avencourt.*' 
 
 I folded this letter carefully and put it aside. The little 
 package he had sent me lay in my hand — a bundle of neatlv 
 folded letters tied together with a narrow ribbon, ana 
 strongly perfumed with the faint sickly perfume I knew and 
 abhorred. I turned them over and over ; the edges of the 
 note-paper were stained with blood — Guido's blood — as 
 though in its last sluggish flowing it had endeavored to 
 obliterate all traces of the daintily penned lines that now 
 awaited my perusal. Slowly I untied the ribbon. With 
 methodical deliberation I read one letter after the other, 
 They were all from Nina — ail written to Guido while he was 
 in Rome, some of them bearing the dates of the very days 
 when she had feigned to love me — me, her newly accepted 
 husband. One very amorous epistle had been written on 
 the self-same evening she had plighted her troth to me ! 
 Letters burning and tender, full of the most passionate protes- 
 tations of fidelity, overflowing with the sweetest terms of en- 
 dearment ; with such a ring of truth and love throughout 
 them that surely it was no wonder that Guido's suspicions 
 were all unawakened, and that he had reason to believe him- 
 self safe in his fool's paradise. One passage in this poet- 
 ical and romaniic correspondence fixed my attention : it ran 
 thus: 
 
 " Why do you write so much of marriage to me, Guido 
 tnio ? it seems to my mind that all the joy of loving will be 
 taken from U3 when once the hard world knows of our 
 passion. If you become my husband you will assuredly 
 cease to be my lover, and that would break my heart. Ah, 
 my best beloved 1 I desire you to be my lover always, as 
 you were when Fabio lived — why bring commonplace matn* 
 mony into the heaven of such a passion as ours ? " 
 
 I studied these words attentively. Of course I understood 
 their drift. She had tried to feel her way with the dead man. 
 She had wanted to marry me, and yet retain Guido for her 
 lonely hours, as " her lover always ! " Such a pretty, ingen 
 ious plan it was ! No thief, no murderer ever laid more 
 cunning schemes than she ; but the law looks after thieves 
 and murderers. For such a woman as this, law says, 
 * Divorce her — that is your best remedy." Divorce hetl 
 
*5& V&ND&TTA1 
 
 Let the criminal go scot-free 1 Others may do it that 
 —I have different ideas of justice ! 
 
 Tying up the packet of letters again, with their sickening 
 perfume and their blood-stained edges', I drew oat the last 
 graciously worded missive I had received from Nina. Of 
 course I heard from her every day — she was a most faithful 
 correspondent ! The same affectionate expressions character 
 ized her letters to me as those that had deluded her dead 
 lover — with this difference, that whereas she inveighed much 
 against the prosiness of marriage to Guido, to me she drew 
 the much touching pictures of her desolate condition : how 
 lonely she had felt since her " dear husband's " death, how 
 rejoiced she was to think that she was soon again to be a 
 happy wife — the wife of one so noble, so true, so devoted as 
 I was ! She had left the convent and was now at home — ■ 
 when should she have the happiness of welcoming me, her 
 best beloved Cesare, back to Naples ? She certainly de- 
 served some credit for artistic lying ; I could not understand 
 how she managed it so well. Almost I admired her skill, 
 as one sometimes admires a cool-headed burglar, who has 
 more skill, cunning, and pluck than his comrades. I thought 
 with triumph that though the wording of Ferrari's will en- 
 abled her to secure all other letters she might have written 
 to him, this one little packet of documentary evidence was 
 more than sufficient for my purposes. And I resolved to re- 
 tain it in my own keeping till the time came for me to use it 
 against her. 
 
 And how about D'Avencourt's friendly advice concerning 
 the matrimonial knot ? "A man should not walk on the edge 
 of a precipice with his eyes shut." Very true. But if his 
 eyes are open, and he has his enemy by the throat, the edge 
 of a precipice is a convenient position for hurling that 
 enemy down to death in a quiet way, that the world need 
 know nothing of ! So for the present I preferred the preci- 
 pice to walking on level ground. 
 
 I rose from my seat near the Punto d'Angelo. It was 
 growing late in the afternoon. From the little church below 
 me soft bells rang out the Angelus, and with them chimed 
 in a solemn and harslicr sound from the turret of the Monte 
 Vergine. I lifted my hat with the customary reverence, and 
 stood listening, with my feet deep in the grass and scented 
 thyme, and more than once glanced up at the height where- 
 on the venerable sanctuary held its post, like some lonely 
 old god of memory brooding over vanished years. There, 
 
VENDETTA t 
 
 H$ 
 
 according to tradition, was once celebrated the worship of 
 
 the many-breasted Cybele ; down that very slope of grass 
 dotted with violets had rushed the howling, naked priests 
 beating their discordant drums and shrinking their laments 
 for the loss of Atys, the beautiful youth, their goddess's par- 
 amour, Infidelity again ! — even in this ancient legend, what 
 did Cybele care for old Saturn, whose wife she was ? 
 Nothing, less than nothing! — and her adorers worshiped not 
 her chastity, but her faithlessness ; it is the way of the wort 4 
 to this day] 
 
 The bells ceased ringing; I descended the hill and returned 
 homeward through a shady valley, full of the odor of pines 
 and bog-myrtle. On reaching the gate of the Signora Monti's 
 humble yet picturesque dwelling, I heard the sound dl 
 laughter and clapping of hands, and looking in the direction 
 of the orchard, I saw Vincenzo hard at work, his shirt-sleeves 
 rolled up to the shoulder, splitting some goodly logs of wood, 
 while Lilla stood beside him, merrily applauding and encour- 
 aging his efforts. He seemed quite in his element, and 
 wielded his ax with a regularity and vigor I should scarcely 
 have expected from a man whom I was accustomed to see 
 performing the somewhat effeminate duties of a valet~de* 
 chambre. I watched him and the fair girl beside him for a 
 few moments, myself unperceived. 
 
 If this little budding romance were left alone it would ripen 
 into a flower, and Vincenzo would be a happier man than his 
 master. He was a true Tuscan, from the very way he handled 
 his wood-ax ; I could see that he loved the life of the hills 
 and fields— the life of a simple farmer and fruit-grower, full 
 of innocent enjoyments, as sweet as the ripe apples in his 
 orchard. I could foresee his future with Lilla beside him. 
 He would have days of unwearying contentment, rendered 
 beautiful by the free fresh air and the fragrance of flowers — 
 his evenings would slip softly by to the tinkle of the mando- 
 lin, and the sound of his wife and children's singing. 
 
 What fairer fate could a man desire ? — what life more cer- 
 tain to keep health in the body and peace in the mind ? 
 Could I not help him to his happiness, I wondered ? I, who 
 had grown stern with long brooding upon my vengeance- 
 could I not aid in bringing joy to others 1 If I could, my 
 mind would be somewhat lightened of its burden — a burden 
 grown heavier since Guido's death, for from his blood had 
 sprung fcrth a new group of Furies, that lashed me on to my 
 tas> with scorpion whips of redoubled wrath and passionate 
 
260 VENDETTA ! 
 
 ferocity. Yet if I could do one good action now — would if 
 not be as a star shining in the midst of my soul's storm and 
 darkness ? Just then Lilla laughed — how sweetly ! — the 
 laugh of a very young child. What amused her now ? I 
 looked, and saw that she had taken the ax from Vincenzo, 
 and lifting it in her little hands, was endeavoring bravely to 
 imitate his strong and telling stroke ; he meanwhile stood 
 aside with an air of smiling superiority, mingled with a good 
 deal of admiration for the slight active figure arrayed in the 
 blue kirtle and scarlet bodice, on which the warm rays of the 
 late sun fell with so much amorous tenderness. Poor little 
 Lilla ! A penknife would have made as much impression as 
 her valorous blows produced on the inflexible, gnarled, knotty 
 old stump she essayed to split in twain. Flushed and breath- 
 less with her efforts, she looked prettier than ever, and at last, 
 baffled, she resigned her ax to Vincenzo, laughing gayly at 
 her incapacity for wood-cutting, and daintily shaking her 
 apron free from the chips and dust, till a call from her 
 mother caused her to run swiftly into the house, leaving 
 Vincenzo working away as arduously as ever. I went up to 
 him ; he saw me approaching, and paused in his labors with 
 an air of slight embarrassment. 
 
 " You like this sort of work, atnico ? " I said, gently. 
 
 " An old habit, eccellenza — nothing more. It reminds me 
 of the days of my youth, when I worked for my mother. 
 Ah ! a pleasant place it was — the old home just above 
 Fiesole." His eyes grew pensive and sad. "It is all gone 
 now — finished. That was before I became a soldier. But 
 one thinks of it sometimes." 
 
 " I understand. And no doubt you would be glad to re- 
 turn to the life of your boyhood ? " 
 
 He looked a little startled. 
 
 " Not to leave you, eccellenza ! " 
 
 I smiled rather sadly. "Not to leave me? Not if you 
 wedded Lilla Monti ? " 
 
 His olive cheek flushed, but he shook his head. 
 
 "Impossible! She would not listen to me. She is a child." 
 
 " She will soon be a woman, believe me ! A little more of 
 your company will make her so. But there is plenty of time. 
 She is beautiful, as you said : and something better than that, 
 she is innocent — think of that, Vincenzo ! Do you know 
 how rare a thing innocence is — in a woman ? Respect it as 
 you respect God ; let her young life be sacred to you." 
 
 He glanced upward reverently. 
 
VENDETTA t 261 
 
 " Eccellenza, I would as soon tear the Madonna from her 
 altars as vex or frighten Lilla ! " 
 
 I smiled and said no more, but turned into the house. From 
 that moment I resolved to let this little love-idye have a fair 
 chance of success. Therefore I remained at Avellino much 
 longer than I had at first intended, not for my own sake, 
 but for Vincenzo's. He served me faithfully ; he should have 
 his reward. I took a pleasure in noticing that my efforts tc 
 promote his cause were not altogether wasted. I spoke with 
 Lilla often on indifferent matters that interested her, and 
 watched her constantly when she was all unaware of my ob- 
 servant gaze. With me she was as frank and fearless as a 
 tame robin ; but after some days I found that she grew shy 
 of mentioning the name of Vincenzo, that she blushed when 
 he approached her, that she was timid of asking him to do 
 anything for her ; and from all these little signs I knew her 
 mind, as one knows by the rosy streaks in the sky that the 
 sunrise is near. 
 
 One afternoon I called the Signora Monti to my room. 
 She came, surprised, and a little anxious. Was anything 
 wrong with the service ? I reassured her housewifely scruples, 
 and came to the point at once. 
 
 " I would speak to you of your child, the little Lilla," I 
 said, kindly. " Have you ever thought that she may marry ? " 
 
 Her dark bold eyes filled with tears and her lips quivered. 
 
 " Truly I have," she replied with a wistful sadness ; " but I 
 have prayed, perhaps foolishly, that she would not leave me 
 yet. I love her so well ; she is always a babe to me, so 
 small and sweet ! I put the thought of her marriage from 
 me as a sorrowful thing." 
 
 " I understand your feeling," I said. " Still, suppose 
 your daughter wedded a man who would be to you as a son, 
 and who would not part her from you ? — for instance, let u$ 
 say Vincenzo ? " 
 
 Signora Monti smiled through her tears. 
 
 " Vincenzo ! He is a good lad, a very good lad, and I 
 love him ; but he does not think of Lilla — he is devoted to 
 the eccellenza." 
 
 " I am aware of his devotion," I answered. " Still I be- 
 lieve you will find out soon that he loves your Lilla. At pres- 
 ent he says nothing — he fears to offend you and alarm her ; 
 but his eyes speak — so do hers. You are a good woman, a 
 good mother ; watch them both, you will soon tell whether 
 love is between them or no. And see," here I handed her a 
 
*6s V&tf&BTTAi 
 
 pealed envelope, " in this you will find notes to the amount 
 pf four thousand francs." She uttered a little cry of amaze- 
 ment. " It is Lilla's dowry, whoever she marries, though I 
 think she will marry Vincenzo. Nay — no thanks, money is 
 of no value to me ; and this is the one pleasure I have had 
 for many weary months.. Think well of Vincenzo — he is an 
 excellent fellow. And all I ask of you is, that you keep this 
 little dowry a secret till the day of your fair child's espou- 
 sals. " 
 
 Before I could prevent her the enthusiastic woman had 
 seized my hand and kissed it. Then she lifted her head with 
 the proud free-born dignity of a Roman matron ; her broad 
 bosom heaved, and her strong voice quivered with suppressed 
 emotion. 
 
 " I thank you, signor," she said, simply, " for Lilla's sake ! 
 Not that my little one needs more than her mother's hands 
 have toiled for, thanks be to the blessed saints who have had 
 us both in their keeping ! But this is a special blessing of 
 God sent through your hands, and I should be unworthy of 
 all prosperity were I not grateful. Eccellenza, pardon me, 
 but my eyes are quick to see that you have suffered sorrow. 
 Good actions lighten grief ! We will pray for your happiness, 
 Lilla and I, till the last breath leaves our lips. Believe it — 
 the name of our benefactor shall be lifted to the saints night 
 and morning, and who knows but good may come of it ! " 
 
 I smiled faintly. 
 
 '* Good will come of it, my excellent signora, though I am 
 all unworthy of your prayers. Rather pray," and I sighed 
 heavily, "for the dead, ' that they may be loosed from their 
 tins. 9 " 
 
 The good woman looked at me with a sort of kindly pity 
 mingled with awe, then murmuring once more her thanks and 
 blessing, she left the room. A few minutes afterward Vin- 
 cenzo entered. I addressed him cheerfully. 
 
 M Absence is the best test of love, Vincenzo ; prepare all 
 for our departure ! We shall leave Avellino the day after 
 to-morrow." 
 
 And so we did. Lilla looked slightly downcast, but Vin- 
 cenzo seemed satisfied, and I augured from their faces, and 
 from the mysterious smile of Signor Monti, that all was going 
 well. I left the beautiful mountain town with regret, know 
 ing I should see it no more. I touched Lilla's fair cheek light- 
 ly at parting, and took what I knew was my last look into the 
 sweet candid young face. Yet the consciousness that I had 
 
VENDETTA! 263 
 
 done some little good gave my tired heart a sense of satisfac- 
 tion and repose — a feeling I had not experienced since I died 
 and rose again from the dead. 
 
 On the last day of January I returned to Naples, after an 
 absence of more than a month, and was welcomed back by all 
 my numerous acquaintance with enthusiasm. The Marquis 
 D'Avencourt had informed me rightly — the affair of the duel 
 was a thing of the past — an almost forgotten circumstance. 
 The carnival was in full riot, the streets were scenes of fantastic 
 mirth and revelry ; there was music and song, dancing and 
 masquerading, and feasting. But I withdrew from the tumult 
 ot merriment, and absorbed myself in the necessary prepara- 
 tions for — my marriage. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Looking back on the incidents of those strange feverish 
 weeks that preceded my wedding-day, they seemed to me like 
 the dreams of a dying man. Shifting colors, confused 
 images, moments of clear light, hours of long darkness — all 
 things gross, refined, material, and spiritual were shaken up 
 in my life like the fragments in a kaleidoscope, ever chang- 
 ing into new forms and bewildering patterns. My brain was 
 clear ; yet I often questioned myself whether I was not go- 
 ing mad — whether all the careful methodical plans I formed 
 were but the hazy fancies of a hopelessly disordered mind ? 
 Yet no ; each detail of my scheme was too complete, too 
 consistent, too business-like for that. A madman may have 
 a method of action to a certain extent, but there is always 
 some slight slip, some omission, some mistake which helps 
 to discover his condition. Now, / forgot nothing — I had 
 the composed exactitude of a careful banker who balances 
 his accounts with the most elaborate regularity. I can laugh 
 to think of it all now ; but then — then I moved, spoke, and 
 acted like a human machine impelled by stronger forces 
 than my own — in all things precise, in all things inflexible. 
 
 Within the week of my return from Avellino my coming 
 marriage with the Countess Romani was announced. Two 
 days after it had been made public, while sauntering across 
 the Largo del Castello, I met the Marquis D'Avencourt. I 
 had not seen him since the morning of the duel, and his pres- 
 ence gave me a sort of nervous shock. He was exceeding^ 
 
«64 VENDETTA i 
 
 cordial, though I fancied he was also slightly embarrassed 
 After a few commonplace remarks he said, abruptly : 
 
 " So your marriage will positively take place ? " 
 
 I forced a laugh. 
 
 " Ma / certamente ! Do you doubt it ? " 
 
 His handsome face clouded and his manner grew still more 
 constrained. 
 
 " No ; but I thought — I had hoped " 
 
 " Mon cher" I said, airily, " I perfectly understand to what 
 you allude. But we men of the world are not fastidious — ■ 
 we know better than to pay any heed to the foolish love-fan» 
 cies of a woman before her marriage, so long as she does not 
 trick us afterward. The letters you sent me were trifles, 
 mere trifles ! In wedding the Contessa Romani I assure you 
 I believe I secure the most virtuous as well as the most 
 lovely woman in Europe ! " And I laughed again heartily. 
 
 D'Avencourt looked puzzled ; but he was a punctilious 
 man, and knew how to steer clear of a delicate subject. He 
 smiled. 
 
 " A la bonne heure" he said — " I wish you joy with all my 
 heart! You are the best judge of your own happiness; as 
 for me — vive la liberte ! " 
 
 And with a gay parting salute he left me. No one else in 
 the city appeared to share his foreboding scruples, if he had 
 any, about my forthcoming marriage. It was everywhere 
 talked ^f with as much interest and expectation as though it 
 were some new amusement invented to heighten the merri- 
 ment of carnival. Among other things, I earned the reputa- 
 tion of being a most impatient lover, for now I would consent 
 to no delays. I hurried all the preparations on with feverish 
 precipitation. I had very little difficulty in persuading Nina 
 that the sooner our wedding took place the better ; she was 
 to the full as eager as myself, as ready to rush on her own 
 destruction as Guido had been. Her chief passion was 
 avarice, and the repeated rumors of my supposed fabulous 
 wealth had aroused her greed from the very moment she had 
 first met me in my assumed character of the Count Oliva. 
 As soon as her engagement to me became known in Naples, 
 she was an object of envy to all those of her own sex who, 
 during the previous autumn, had laid out their store of fasci- 
 nations to entrap me in vain — and this made her perfectly 
 happy. Perhaps the supremest satisfaction a woman of this 
 sort can attain to is the fact of making her less fortunate 
 sisters discontented and miserable ! I loaded her, of course, 
 
VENDETTA! 265 
 
 with the costliest gifts, and she, being the sole mistress of 
 the fortune left her by her " late husband, " as well as of the 
 unfortunate Guido's money, set no limits to her extravagance. 
 She ordered the most expensive and elaborate costumes ; 
 she was engaged morning after morning with dressmakers, 
 tailors, and milliners, and she was surrounded by a certain 
 favored " set " of female friends, for whose benefit she dis- 
 played the incoming treasures of her wardrobe till they were 
 ready to cry for spite and vexation, though they had to smile 
 and hold in their wrath and outraged vanity beneath the so- 
 cial mask of complacent composure. And Nina loved noth- 
 ing better than to torture the poor women who were stinted 
 of pocket-money with the sight of shimmering satins, soft 
 radiating plushes, rich velvets, embroidery studded with real 
 gems, pieces of costly old lace, priceless scents, and articles 
 of bijouterie; she loved also to dazzle the eyes and bewilder 
 the brains of young girls, whose finest toilet was a garb of 
 simplest white stuff unadorned save by a cluster of natural 
 blossoms, and to send them away sick at heart, pining 
 for they knew not what, dissatisfied with everything, and 
 grumbling at fate for not permitting them to deck themselves 
 in such marvelous " arrangements " of costume as those pos- 
 sessed by the happy, the fortunate future Countess Oliva. 
 
 Poor maidens 1 had they but known all they would not have 
 envied her ! Women are too fond of measuring happiness by 
 the amount of fine clothes they obtain, and I truly believe 
 dress is the one thing that never fails to console them. How 
 often a fit of hysterics can be cut short by the opportune 
 arrival of a new gown ! 
 
 My wife, in consideration of her approaching second nup- 
 tials, had thrown off her widow's crape, and now appeared 
 clad in those soft subdued half-tints of color that suited her 
 fragile, fairy-like beauty to perfection. All her old witcheries 
 and her graceful tricks of manner and speech were put forth 
 again for my benefit. I know them all so well ! I understood 
 the value of her light caresses and languishing looks so thor- 
 oughly ! She was very anxious to attain the full dignity of 
 her position as the wife of so rich a nobleman as I was re- 
 puted to be, therefore she raised no objection when I fixed 
 the day of our marriage for Giovedi Grasso. Then the fool- 
 ing and mumming, the dancing, shrieking, and screaming 
 would be at its height ; it pleased my whim to have this other 
 piece of excellent masquerading take place at the same time. 
 
 The wedding was to be as private as possible, owing to my 
 
!>66 VENDETTA I 
 
 wife's " recent sad bereavements," as she herself said with a 
 pretty sigh and tearful, pleading glance. It would take place 
 in the chapel of San Gennaro, adjoining the cathedral. We 
 were married there before ! During the time that intervened, 
 Nina's manner was somewhat singular. To me she was often 
 timid, and sometimes half conciliatory. Now and then I 
 caught her large dark eyes fixed on me with a startled, anx- 
 ious look, but this expression soon passed away. She was 
 subject, too, to wild fits of merriment, and anon to moods of 
 absorbed and gloomy silence. I could plainly see that she 
 was strung up to an extreme pitch of nervous excitement and 
 irritability, but I asked her no questions. If — I thought — if 
 she tortured herself with memories, all the better — if she saw, 
 or fancied she saw, the resemblance between me and her 
 " dear dead Fabio," it suited me that she should be so racked 
 and bewildered, 
 
 I came and went to and fro from the villa as I pleased. I 
 wore my dark glasses as usual, and not even Giacomo could 
 follow me with his peering, inquisitive gaze ; for since the 
 night he had been hurled so fiercely to the ground by Guido's 
 reckless and impatient hand, the poor old man had been par- 
 alyzed, and had spoken no word. He lay in an upper chamber, 
 tended by Assunta, and my wife had already written to his 
 relatives in Lombardy, asking them to send for him home. 
 
 " Of what use to keep him ? " she had asked me. 
 
 True ! Of what use to give even roof-shelter to a poor old 
 human creature, maimed, broken, and useless for evermore ? 
 After long years of faithful service, turn him out, cast him 
 forth ! If he die of neglect, starvation, and ill-usage, what 
 matter ? — he is a worn-out tool, his day is done — let him per- 
 ish. I would not plead for him — why should I ? I had made 
 my own plans for his comfort — plans shortly to be carried 
 out ; and in the mean time Assunta nursed him tenderly as he 
 lay speechless, with no more strength than a year-old baby s 
 and only a bewildered pain in his upturned, lack-luster eyes. 
 One incident occurred during these last days of my vengeance 
 that struck a sharp pain to my heart, together with a sense 
 of the bitterest anger. I had gone up to the villa somewhat 
 early in the morning, and on crossing the lawn I saw a dark 
 form stretched motionless on one of the paths that led directly 
 up to the house. I went to examine it, and started back in 
 horror — it was my dog Wyvis shot dead. His silky black 
 head and forepaws were dabbled in blood — his honest brown 
 eyes were glazed with the film of his dying agonies. Sickened 
 
VENDETTA] 367 
 
 and infuriated at the sight, I called to a gardener who was 
 trimming the shrubbery. 
 
 "Who has done this ? " I demanded. 
 
 The man looked pityingly at the poor bleeding remains, and 
 said, in a low voice : 
 
 " It was madama's order, signor. The dog bit her yester- 
 day ; we shot him at daybreak." 
 
 I stooped to caress the faithful animal's body, and as I 
 croked the silky coat my eyes were dim with tears. 
 
 " How did it happen ? " I asked in smothered accents. 
 '*' Was your lady hurt ? " 
 
 The gardener shrugged his shoulders and sighed. 
 
 " Ma / — no ! But he tore the lace on her dress with his 
 teeth and grazed her hand. It was little, but enough. He 
 will bite no more — povera bestial" 
 
 I gave the fellow five francs. 
 
 " I liked the dog," I said briefly, " he was a faithful creat- 
 ure. Bury him decently under that tree," and I pointed to 
 the giant cypress on the lawn, " and take this money for you* 
 trouble." 
 
 He looked surprised but grateful, and promised to do my 
 bidding. Once more sorrowfully caressing the fallen head of 
 perhaps the truest friend I ever possessed, I strode hastily 
 into the house, and met Nina coming out of her morning- 
 room, clad in one of her graceful trailing garments, in which 
 soft lavender hues were blended like the shaded colors of 
 late and early violets. 
 
 " So Wyvis has been shot ? " I said, abruptly. 
 
 She gave a slight shudder, 
 
 " Oh, yes ; is it not sad ? But I was compelled to have it 
 done. Yesterday I went past his kennel within reach of his 
 chain, and he sprung furiously at me for no reason at all. 
 See ! " And holding up her small hand she showed me three 
 trifling marks in the delicate flesh. " I felt that you would 
 be so unhappy if you thought I kept a dog that was at all dan- 
 gerous, so I determined to get rid of him. It is always pain- 
 ful to have a favorite animal killed; but really Wyvis be- 
 longed to my poor husband, and I think he has never been 
 quite safe since his master's death, and now Giacomo is 
 ill " 
 
 " I see ! " I said, curtly, cutting her explanations short. 
 
 Within myself I thought: how much more sweet and valu- 
 able was the dog's life than hers. Brave Wyvis— good Wyvis t 
 He had done his best — he had tried to tear her clainty flesh \ 
 
268 VENDETTA! 
 
 his honest instincts had led him to attempt rough vengeance 
 on the woman he had felt was his master's foe. And he had 
 met his fate, and died in the performance of duty. But I 
 said no more on the subject. The dog's death was not 
 alluded to again by either Nina or myself. He lay in his 
 mossy grave under the cypress boughs — his memory untainted 
 by any lie, and his fidelity enshrined in my heart as a thing 
 good and gracious, far exceeding the self-interested friend- 
 ship of so-called Christian humanity. 
 
 The days passed slowly on. To the revelers who chased 
 the flying steps of carnival with shouting and laughter, no 
 doubt the hours were brief, being so brimful of merriment ; 
 but to me, who heard nothing save the measured ticking of 
 my own timepiece of revenge, and who saw naught save its 
 hands, that every second drew nearer to the last and fatal 
 figure on the dial, the very moments seemed long and laden 
 with weariness. I roamed the streets of the city aimlessly, 
 feeling more like a deserted stranger than a well-known envied 
 nobleman, whose wealth made him the cynosure of all eyes. 
 The riotous glee, the music, the color that whirled and reeled 
 through the great street of Toledo at this season bewildered 
 and pained me. Though I knew and was accustomed to the 
 wild vagaries of carnival, yet this year they seemed to be out 
 of place, distracting, senseless, and all unfamiliar. 
 
 Sometimes I escaped from the city tumult and wandered 
 out to the cemetery. There I would stand, dreamily looking 
 at the freshly turned sods above Guido Ferrari's grave. No 
 stone marked the spot as yet, but it was close to the Romani 
 vault — not more than a couple of yards away from the iron 
 grating that barred the entrance to that dim and fatal charnel- 
 house. I had a drear fascination for the place, and more 
 than once I went to the opening of that secret passage made 
 by the brigands to ascertain if all was safe and undisturbed. 
 Everything was as I had left it, save that the tangle of brush- 
 wood had become thicker, and weeds and brambles had 
 sprung up, making it less visible than before, and probably 
 rendering it more impassable. By a fortunate accident I had 
 secured the key of the vault. I knew that for family burial- 
 places of this kind there are always two keys — one left in 
 charge of the keeper of the cemetery, the other possessed by 
 the person or persons to whom the mausoleum belongs, and 
 this other I managed to obtain. 
 
 On one occasion, being left for some time alone in my own 
 library at the villa, J remembered that in m upper drawer of 
 
VENDETTA ! 269 
 
 an old oaken escritoire that stood there, had always been a 
 few keys belonging to the doors of cellars and rooms in the 
 house. I looked, and found them lying there as usual ; they 
 all had labels attached to them, signifying their use, and I 
 turned them over impatiently, not finding what I sought. I 
 was about to give up the search, when I perceived a large 
 rusty iron key that had slipped to the back of the drawer • 
 I pulled it out, and to my satisfaction it was labeled " Mau* 
 soleum." I immediately took possession of it, glad to have 
 obtained so useful and necessary an implement ; I knew that 
 I should soon need it. The cemetery was quite deserted at 
 this festive season — no one visited it to lay wreaths of flowers 
 or sacred mementoes on the last resting-places of their friends. 
 In the joys of the carnival who thinks of the dead ? In my 
 frequent walks there I was always alone ; I might have opened 
 my own vault and gone down into it without being observed, 
 but I did not ; I contented myself with occasionally trying 
 the key in the lock, and assuring myself that it worked with- 
 out difficulty. 
 
 Returning from one of these excursions late on a mild after- 
 noon toward the end of the week preceding my marriage, I 
 bent my steps toward the Molo, where I saw a picturesque 
 group of sailors and girls dancing one of those fantastic, 
 graceful dances of the country, in which impassioned move- 
 ment and expressive gesticulation are everything. Their 
 steps were guided and accompanied by the sonorous twanging 
 of a full-toned guitar and the tinkling beat of a tambourine. 
 Their handsome, animated faces, their flashing eyes and 
 laughing lips, their gay, many-colored costumes, the glitter of 
 beads on the brown necks of the maidens, the red caps 
 jauntily perched on the thick black curls of the fishermen — all 
 made up a picture full of light and life thrown up into strong 
 relief against the pale gray and amber tints of the February 
 sky and sea ; while shadowing overhead frowned the stern 
 dark walls of the Castel Nuovo. 
 
 It was such a scene as the English painter Luke Fildes 
 might love to depict on his canvas — the one man of to-day 
 who, though born of the land of opaque mists and rain-bur- 
 dened clouds, has, notwithstanding these disadvantages, 
 managed to partly endow his brush with the exhaustless 
 wealth and glow of the radiant Italian color. I watched the 
 dance with a faint sense of pleasure — it was full of so much 
 harmony and delicacy of rhythm. The lad who thrummed 
 the guitar broke out now and then into song — a song in dia* 
 
27< 
 
 Vendetta t 
 
 lect that fitted into the music of the dance as accurately as a 
 rosebud into its calyx. I could not distinguish all the words 
 he sung, but the refrain was always the same, and he gave it 
 in every possible inflection and variety of tone, from grave 
 to gay, from pleading to pathetic. 
 
 " Che bella cosa e de morire accz'so, 
 Nnanze a la porta de la nnamorata /" * 
 
 meaning literally — " How beautiful a thing to die, suddenly 
 slain at the door of one's beloved 1 " 
 
 There was no sense in the thing, I thought half angrily — 
 it was a stupid sentiment altogether. Yet I could not help 
 smiling at the ragged, barefooted rascal who sung it: he 
 seemed to feel such a gratification in repeating it, and he 
 rolled his black eyes with lovelorn intensity, and breathed 
 forth sighs that sounded through his music with quite a 
 touching earnestness. Of course he was only following the 
 manner of all Neapolitans, namely, acting his song ; they all 
 do it, and cannot help themselves. But this boy had a 
 peculiarly roguish way of pausing and crying forth a plaintive 
 " Ah I " before he added " Che bella cosa" etc., which gave 
 point and piquancy to his absurd ditty. He was evidently 
 brimful of mischief — his expression betokened it ; no doubt 
 he was one of the most thorough little scamps that ever 
 played at " morra" but there was a charm about his hand- 
 some dirty face and unkempt hair, and I watched him 
 amusedly, glad to be distracted for a few minutes from the 
 tired inner workings of my own unhappy thoughts. In time 
 to come, so I mused, this very boy might learn to set his 
 song about the " beloved " to a sterner key, and might find 
 it meet, not to be slain himself, but to slay her / Such a 
 thing — in Naples — was more than probable. By and by the 
 dance ceased, and I recognized in one of the breathless, 
 laughing sailors my old acquaintance Andrea LuzianL with 
 whom I had sailed to Palermo. The sight of him relieved 
 me from a difficulty which had puzzled me for some days, 
 and as soon as the little groups of men and women had 
 partially dispersed, I walked up to him and touched him on 
 the shoulder. He started, looked round surprised, and did 
 not appear to recognize me; I remembered that when he 
 had seen me I had not grown a beard, neither had I worn 
 dark spectacles. I recalled my name to him ; his face 
 cleared and he smiled. 
 
 * Neapolitan dialect. 
 
VENDETTA! 27 1 
 
 •' Ah ! buon giomo, eccellenza ! " he cried. " A thousand 
 pardons that I did not at first know you ! Often have I 
 thought of you ! often have I heard your name — ah ! what a 
 name ! Rich, great, generous ! — ah ! what a glad life ! And 
 on the point of marrying — ah, Dio ! love makes all the 
 troubles go — so ! " and taking his cigar from his mouth, he 
 puffed a ring of pale smoke into the air and laughed gayly. 
 Then suddenly lifting his cap from his clustering black hair 
 ie added, " All joy be with you, eccellenza ! " 
 
 I smiled and thanked him. I noticed he looked at me 
 :uriously. 
 
 " You think I have changed in appearance, my friend ? " 
 I said. 
 
 The Sicilian looked embarrassed. 
 
 " Ebbene ! we must all change," he answered, lightly, evad- 
 ing my glance, " The days pass on — each day takes a little 
 bit of youth away with it. One grows old without knowing 
 it!" 
 
 I laughed, 
 
 " I see," I observed. " You think I have aged somewhat 
 since you saw me ? " 
 
 " A little, eccellenza," he frankly confessed. 
 
 " I have suffered severe illness," I said, quietly, " and my 
 eyes are still weak, as you perceive," and I touched my 
 glasses. " But I shall get stronger in time. Can you come 
 with me for a few moments ? I want your help in a matter 
 of importance." 
 
 He nodded a ready assent and followed me. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 We left the Molo, and paused at a retired street corner 
 -eading from the Chiaja. 
 
 " You remember Carmelo Neri ? " I asked. 
 
 Andrea shrugged his shoulders with an air of infinite com- 
 miseration. 
 
 " Ah ! povero diavolo / Well do I remember him ! A bold 
 fellow and brave, with a heart in him, too, if one did but 
 know where to find it. And now he drags the chain ! Well, 
 well, no doubt it is what he deserves ; but I say, and always 
 will maintain, there are many worse men than Carmelo." 
 
 I briefly related how I had seen the captured brigand in 
 
272 VENDETTA t S 
 
 the square at Palermo and had spoken with him. " I mei> 
 tioned you," I added, " and he bade me tell you Teresa had 
 killed herself." 
 
 " Ah ! that I well know," said the little captain, who had 
 listened to me intently, and over whose mobile face flitted a 
 shadow of tender pity, as he sighed. " Poverinetta ! So 
 fragile and small ! To think she had the force to plunge the 
 knife in her breast ! As well imagine a little bird flying 
 down to pierce itself on an uplifted bayonet. Ay, ay ! 
 women will do strange things — and it is certain she loved 
 Carmelo." 
 
 " You would help him to escape again if you could, no 
 doubt ? " I inquired with a half smile. 
 
 The ready wit of the Sicilian instantly asserted itself. 
 
 ** Not I, eccellenza," he replied, with an air of dignity and 
 most virtuous honesty. " No, no, not now. The law is the 
 law, and I, Andrea Luziani, am not one to break it. No, 
 Carmelo must take his punishment ; it is for life they say— 
 and hard as it seems, it is but just. When the little Teresa 
 was in the question, look you, what could I do ? but now- 
 let the saints that choose help Carmelo, for I will not." 
 
 I laughed as I met the audacious flash of his eyes ; I knew, 
 despite his protestations, that if Carmelo Neri ever did get 
 clear of the galleys, it would be an excellent thing for him if 
 Luziani's vessel chanced to be within reach. 
 
 " You have your brig the * Laura 5 still ? " I asked him. 
 
 " Yes, eccellenza, the Madonna be praised ! And she has 
 been newly rigged and painted, and she is as trig and trim a 
 craft as you can meet with in all the wide blue waters of the 
 Mediterranean." 
 
 " Now you see," I said, impressively, " I have a friend, a 
 relative, who is in trouble : he wishes to get away from Naples 
 quietly and in secret. Will you help him ? You shall be 
 paid whatever you think proper to demand." 
 
 The Sicilian looked puzzled. He puffed meditatively at 
 his cigar and remained silent. 
 
 " He is not pursued by the law," I continued, noting his 
 hesitation. " He is simply involved in a cruel difficulty 
 brought upon him by his own family — he seeks to escape 
 from unjust persecution." 
 
 Andrea's brow cleared. 
 
 " Oh, if that is the case, eccellenza, I am at your service, 
 But where does your friend desire to go ? " 
 
 I paused for a moment and considered. 
 
VENDETTA! 373 
 
 M To Civita Vecchia," I said at last ; " from that port he 
 can obtain a ship to take him to his further destination." 
 
 The captain's expressive face fell — he looked very dubious. 
 
 " To Civita Vecchia is a long way, a very long way," he 
 said, regretfully ; " and it is the bad season, and there are 
 cross currents and contrary winds. With all the wish in the 
 world to please you, eccellenza, I dare not run the ' Laura ; 
 so far ; but there is another means " 
 
 And interrupting himself he considered awhile in silence 
 I waited patiently for him to speak. 
 
 " Whether it would suit your friend I know not," he said 
 at last, laying his hand confidentially on my arm, " but there 
 is a stout brig leaving here for Civita Vecchia on Friday 
 morning next " 
 
 " The day after Giovedi Grasso ? ** I queried, with a smile 
 he did not understand. He nodded. 
 
 " Exactly so. She carries a cargo of Lacrima Cristi, and 
 she is a swift sailer. I know her captain — he is a good soul; 
 but," and Andrea laughed lightly, " he is like the rest of us — 
 he loves money. You do not count the francs — no, they are 
 nothing to you — but we look to the soldi. Now, if it please 
 you I will make him a certain offer of passage money, as 
 large as you shall choose, also I will tell him when to expect 
 his one passenger, and I can almost promise you that he 
 will not say no ! " 
 
 This proposal fitted in so excellently with my plans that I 
 accepted it, and at once named an exceptionally munificent 
 sum for the passage required. Andrea's eyes glistened as he 
 heard. 
 
 " It is a little fortune ! " he cried, enthusiastically. " Would 
 that I could earn as much in twenty voyages I But one 
 should not be churlish — such luck cannot fall in all men'j 
 way." 
 
 I smiled. 
 
 " And do you think, amico, I will suffer you to go unre- 
 warded ? " I said. And placing two twenty-franc pieces in 
 his brown palm I added, " As you rightly said, francs are 
 nothing to me. Arrange this little matter without difficulty, 
 and you shall not be forgotten. You can call at my hotel 
 to-morrow or the next day, when you have settled everything 
 — here is the address," and I penciled it on my card and gave 
 it to him ; * ' but remember, this is a secret matter, and I rely 
 upon you to explain it as such to your friend whb command* 
 the brig going to Civita Vecchia. He must ask no questions 
 18 
 
874 YEJVBETTAi 
 
 of his passenger — the more silence the more discretion — and 
 when once he has landed him at his destination he will do 
 well to straightway forget all about him. You understand ? " 
 
 Andrea nodded briskly. 
 
 "Si, si, signor. He has a bad memory as it is — it shall 
 grow worse at your command ! Believe it ! " 
 
 I laughed, shook hands, and parted with the friendly little 
 fellow, he returning to the Molo, and I slowly walking home 
 ward by way of the Villa Reale. An open carriage coming 
 swiftly toward me attracted my attention ; as it drew nearer 
 I recognized the prancing steeds and the familiar liveries. A 
 fair woman clad in olive velvets and Russian sables looked 
 out smiling, and waved her hand. 
 
 It was my wife — my betrothed bride, and beside her sat 
 the Duchess di Marina, the most irreproachable of matrons, 
 famous for her piety not only in Naples but throughout 
 Italy. So immaculate was she that it was difficult to imagine 
 her husband daring to caress that upright, well-dressed form, 
 or venturing to kiss those prim lips, colder than the carven 
 beads of her jeweled rosary. Yet there was a story about her 
 too — an old story that came from Padua — of how a young 
 and handsome nobleman had been found dead at her palace 
 doors, stabbed to the heart. Perhaps — who knows — he also 
 might have thought — 
 
 " Che bella cosa i de morire acciso^ 
 Nnanze a la porta de la ntwmorata f* 
 
 Some said the duke had killed him ; but nothing could be 
 proved, nothing was certain. The duke was silent, so was 
 his duchess ; and Scandal herself sat meekly with closed lips 
 in the presence of this stately and august couple, whose 
 bearing toward each other in society was a lesson of complete 
 etiquette to the world. What went on behind the scenes no 
 one could tell. I raised my hat with the profoundest defer- 
 2nce as the carriage containing the two ladies dashed by; 
 I knew not which was the cleverest hypocrite of the two, 
 therefore I did equal honor to both. I was in a meditative 
 and retrospective mood, and when I reached the Toledo the 
 distracting noises, the cries of the flower-girls, and venders of 
 chestnuts and cojzfetti, the nasal singing of the street-rhymers, 
 the yells of punchinello, and the answering laughter of the 
 populace, were all beyond my endurance. To gratify a sudden 
 whim that seized me, I made my way into the lowest and 
 dirtiest quarters of the city, and roamed through wretched 
 
VENDETTA ! ] 275 
 
 Courts and crowded alleys, trying to discover that one 
 miserable street which until now I had always avoided even 
 the thought of, where I had purchased the coral-fisher's 
 clothes on the day of my return from the grave. I went in 
 many wrong directions, but at last I found it, and saw at a 
 glance that the old rag-dealer's shop was still there, in its 
 former condition of heterogeneous filth and disorder. A 
 man sat at the door smoking, but not the crabbed and benl 
 figure I had before seen — this was a younger and stoutei 
 individual, with a Jewish cast of countenance, and dark, 
 ferocious eyes. I approached him, and seeing by my dress 
 and manner that I was some person of consequence, he rose, 
 drew his pipe from his mouth, and raised his greasy cap with 
 a respectful yet suspicious air. 
 
 " Are you the owner of this place ? " I asked. 
 
 " Si, signor ! w 
 
 "What has become of the old man who used to live 
 here ? " 
 
 He laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and drew his pipe- 
 stem across his throat with a significant gesture. 
 
 " So, signor ! — with a sharp knife ! He had a good deal 
 of blood, too, for so withered a body. To kill himself in that 
 fashion was stupid : he spoiled an Indian shawl that was on 
 his bed, worth more than a thousand francs. One would 
 not have thought he had so much blood." 
 
 And the fellow put back his pipe in his mouth and smoked 
 complacently. I heard in sickened silence. 
 
 " He was mad, I suppose ? " I said at last 
 
 The long pipe was again withdrawn. 
 
 " Mad ? Well, the people say so. I for one think he was 
 very reasonable — all except that matter of the shawl — he 
 should have taken that off his bed first. But he was wise 
 enough to know that he was of no use to anybody — he die? 
 the best he could I Did you know him, signor ? " 
 
 * - 1 gave him money once," I replied, evasively ; then tak- 
 ing out a few francs I handed them to this evil-eyed, furtive- 
 looking son of Israel, who received the gift with effusive 
 gratitude. 
 
 " Thank you for your information," I said coldly. " Good 
 day." 
 
 " Good-day to you, signor," he replied, resuming his seal 
 and watching me curiously as I turned away. 
 
 I passed out of the wretched street feeling faint and giddy. 
 The end of the miserable rag-dealet had been told to me 
 
27S J VENDETTA 1 
 
 briefly and brutally enough — yet somehow I was moved to a 
 sense of regret and pity. Abjectly poor, half crazy, and 
 utterly friendless, he had been a brother of mine in the same 
 bitterness and irrevocable sorrow. I wondered with a half 
 shudder — would my end be like his? When my vengeance 
 was completed should I grow shrunken, and old, and mad, 
 and one lurid day draw a sharp knife across my throat as a 
 finish to my life's history ? I walked more rapidly to shake 
 off the morbid fancies that thus insidiously crept in on mj 
 brain ; and as before, the noise and glitter of the Toledo 
 had been unbearable, so now I found it a relief and a dis- 
 traction. Two maskers bedizened in violet and gold whizzed 
 past me like a flash, one of them yelling a stale jest concern- 
 ing la nnamorata — a jest I scarcely heard, and certainly had 
 no heart or wit to reply to. A fair woman I knew leaned 
 out of a gayly draped balcony and dropped a bunch of roses 
 at my feet ; out of courtesy I stooped to pick them up, and 
 then raising my hat I saluted the dark-eyed donor, but a few 
 paces on I gave them away to a ragged child. Of all flowers 
 that bloom, they were, and still are, the most insupportable 
 to rae. What is it the English poet Swinburne says— 
 
 " / shall never befriends again with roses t n 
 
 My wife wore them always : even on that night when I had 
 seen her clasped in Guido's arms, a red rose on her breast 
 had been crushed in that embrace — a rose whose withered 
 leaves I still possess. In the forest solitude where I now 
 dwell there are no roses — and I am glad ! The trees are toe. 
 high, the tangle of bramble and coarse brushwood too dense 
 — nothing grows here but a few herbs and field flowers- 
 weeds unfit for wearing by fine ladies, yet to my taste in 
 finitely sweeter than all the tenderly tinted cups of fragrance, 
 whose colors and odors are spoiled to me forever. I am un 
 just, say you ? the roses are innocent of evil ? True enough, 
 but their perfume awakens memory, and — I strive always to 
 forget I 
 
 I reached my hotel that evening to find that I was an houi 
 !ate for dinner, an unusual circumstance, which had caused 
 Vincenzo some disquietude, as was evident from the relieved 
 expression of his face when I entered. For some days the 
 honest fellow had watched me with anxiety ; my abstracted 
 moods, the long solitary walks I was in the habit of taking, 
 &£ evenings I passed in my room writing, with the doore 
 
~~ VENDETTA! »77 
 
 locked — all this behavior on my part exercised his patience, 
 I have no doubt, to the utmost limit, and I could see he had 
 much ado to observe his usual discretion and tact, and re- 
 frain from asking questions. On this particular occasion I 
 dined very hastily, for I had promised to join my wife and 
 two of her lady friends at the theater that night. 
 
 When I arrived there, she was already seated in her box. 
 looking radiantly beautifuL She was attired in some soft, 
 sheeny, clinging primrose stuff, and the brigand's jewels I had 
 given her through Guido's hands, flashed brilliantly on her 
 uncovered neck and arms. She greeted me with her usual 
 child-like enthusiasm as I entered, bearing the customary 
 offering — a costly bouquet, set in a holder of mother-of-pearl 
 studded with turquois, for her acceptance. I bowed to her 
 Udy friends, both of whom I knew, and then stood beside her 
 watching the stage. The comedietta played there was the 
 airiest trifle — it turned on the old worn-out story — a young 
 wife, an aged, doting husband, and a lover whose principles 
 were, of course, of the " noblest " type. The husband wa3 
 fooled (naturally), and the chief amusement of the piece ap- 
 peared to consist in his being shut out of his own house in 
 dressing-gown and slippers during a pelting storm of rain, 
 while his spouse (who was particularly specified as " pure ") 
 enjoyed a luxurious supper with her highly moral and virtuous 
 adimier. My wife laughed delightedly at the poor jokes and 
 the stale epigrams, and specially applauded the actress who 
 successfully supported the chief role. This actress, by the 
 way, was a saucy, brazen-faced jade, who had a trick of flash- 
 ing her black eyes, tossing her head, and heaving her ample 
 bosom tumultuously whenever she hissed out the words 
 Vecchidccio maladetto * at her discomfited husband, which had 
 Ui immense effect on the audience — an audience which en- 
 tirely sympathized with her, though she was indubitably in 
 me wrong. I watched Nina in some derision as she nodded 
 her fair head and beat time to the music with her painted fan, 
 I bent over her. 
 
 " The play pleases you ? " I asked, in a low tone. 
 
 ** Yes, indeed J " she answered, with a laughing light in her 
 eyes. " The husband is so droll ! It is all very amusing." 
 
 " The husband is always droll ! " I remarked, smiling coldly. 
 * It is not a temptation to marry when one knows that as ft 
 husband one must always look ridiculous,' 1 
 
 * Accused. vilbuiKMis ok* twte 
 
2J% VENDETTA i 
 
 She glanced up at me. 
 
 *• Cesare ! You surely are not vexed ? Of course it is only 
 in plays that it happens so ! " 
 
 " Plays, cara niia, are often nothing but the reflex of real 
 life," I said. " But let us hope there are exceptions, and 
 that all husbands are not fools." 
 
 She smiled expressively and sweetly, toyed with the flowers 
 I had given her, and turned her eyes again to the stage. I 
 said no more, and was a somewhat moody companion for the 
 rest of the evening. As we all left the theater one of the 
 ladies who had accompanied Nina said lightly i 
 
 "You seem dull and out of spirits, conte? " 
 
 I forced a smile. 
 
 " Not I, signora ! Surely you do not find me guilty of such 
 ungallantry ? Were I dull in your company I should prove 
 myself the most ungrateful of my sex." 
 
 She sighed somewhat impatiently. She was very young 
 and very lovely, and, as far as I knew, innocent, and of a 
 more thoughtful and poetical temperament than most wo- 
 men. 
 
 " That is the mere language of compliment," she said, 
 looking straightly at me with her clear, candid eyes. " You 
 are a true courtier ! Yet often I think your courtesy is 
 reluctant." 
 
 I looked at her in some surprise. 
 
 " Reluctant ? Signora, pardon me if I do not under- 
 stand ! " 
 
 " I mean," she continued, still regarding me steadily, 
 though a faint blush warmed the clear pallor of her delicate 
 complexion, " that you do not really like us women ; you say 
 pretty things to us, and you try to be amiable in our com- 
 pany, but you are in truth averse to our ways — you are seep* 
 'ical — you think we are all hypocrites." 
 
 I laughed a little coldly. 
 
 " Really, signora, your words place me in a very awkward 
 position. Were I to tell you my real sentiments " 
 
 She interrupted me with a touch of her fan on my arm, 
 and smiled gravely. 
 
 " You would say, ' Yes, you are right, signora. I never 
 Bee one of your sex without suspecting treachery.' Ah, 
 Signor Conte, we women are indeed full of faults, but noth- 
 ing can blind our instinct ! " She paused, and her brilliant 
 syes softened as she added gently, " I pray your marriage 
 'saay be a very happy one." 
 
VENDETTA I 279 
 
 I was silent. I was not even courteous enough to thank 
 her for the wish. I was half angered that this girl should 
 have been able to probe my thoughts so quickly and unerr- 
 ingly. Was I so bad an actor after all ? I glanced down 
 at her as she leaned lightly on my arm, 
 
 " Marriage is a mere comedietta" I said, abruptly and 
 harshly. " We have seen it acted to-night. In a few days I 
 shall play the part of the chief buffoon — in other words, the 
 husband." 
 
 And I laughed. My young companion looked startled, 
 almost frightened, and over her fair face there flitted an ex- 
 pression of something like aversion. I did not care — why 
 should I ? — and there was no time for more words between 
 us, for we had reached the outer vestibule of the theater. 
 
 My wife's carriage was drawn up at the entrance — my wife 
 herself was stepping into it. I assisted her, and also her two 
 friends, and then stood with uncovered head at the door 
 wishing them all the " felicissima notte." Nina put her tiny 
 jeweled hand through the carriage window — I stooped and 
 kissed it lightly. Drawing it back quickly, she selected a 
 white gardenia from her bouquet and gave it to me with a 
 bewitching smile. 
 
 Then the glittering equipage dashed away with a whirl and 
 clatter of prancing hoofs and rapid wheels, and I stood 
 alone under the wide portico of the theater — alone, amid the 
 pressing throngs of the people who were still coming out of 
 the house — holding the strongly scented gardenia in my hand 
 as vaguely as a fevered man who finds a strange flower in 
 one of his sick dreams. 
 
 After a minute or two I suddenly recollected myself, and 
 throwing the blossom on the ground, I crushed it savagely 
 beneath my heel — the penetrating odor rose from its slain 
 petals as though a vessel of incense had been emptied at my 
 feet. There was a nauseating influence in it ; where had ] 
 inhaled that subtle perfume last ? I remembered — Guido 
 Ferrari had worn one of those flowers in his coat at my ban- 
 quet — it had been still in his buttonhole when I killed 
 him ! 
 
 I strode onward and homeward ; the streets were full of 
 mirth and music, but I heeded none of it. I felt, rather than 
 saw, the quiet sky bending above me dotted with its count- 
 less millions of luminous worlds ; I was faintly conscious of 
 the soft plash of murmuring waves mingling with the dulcet 
 chords of deftly played mandolins echoing from somewhere 
 
$8o VENDETTA I 
 
 down by the shore ; but my soul was, as it were, benumbed 
 — my mind, always on the alert, was for once utterly tired 
 out — my very limbs ached, and when I at last flung myself 
 on my bed, exhausted, my eyes closed instantly, and I slept 
 the heavy, motionless sleep of a man weary unto death. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII, 
 
 " Tout le monde vient h celui qui sait attendre." So 
 wrote the great Napoleon. The virtue of the aphorism con 
 sists in the little words qui sait. All the world comes to him 
 who knows how to wait, /knew this, and I had waited, and 
 my world — a world of vengeance — came to me at last. 
 
 The slow-revolving wheel of Time brought me to the day 
 before my strange wedding — the eve of my remarriage with 
 my own wife ! All the preparations were made — nothing 
 was left undone that could add to the splendor of the oc- 
 casion. For though the nuptial ceremony was to be some- 
 what quiet and private in character, and the marriage break- 
 fast was to include only a few of our more intimate acquaint- 
 ances, the proceedings weie by no means to terminate tamely. 
 The romance of these remarkable espousals was not to find 
 its conclusion in bathos. No ; the bloom and aroma of the 
 interesting event were to be enjoyed in the evening, when a 
 grand supper and ball, given by me, the happy and much- 
 to-be-envied bridegroom, was to take place in the hotel 
 which I had made my residence for so long. No expense 
 was spared for this, the last entertainment offered by me in 
 my brilliant career as a successful Count Cesare Oliva. 
 After it, the dark curtain would fall on the played-out drama, 
 never to rise again. 
 
 Everything that art, taste, and royal luxury could suggest 
 was included in the arrangements for this brilliant ball, to 
 which a hundred and fifty guests had been invited, not one 
 of whom had refused to attend. 
 
 And now — now, in the afternoon of this, the last of my self- 
 imposed probation — I sat alone with my fair wife in the 
 drawing-room of the Villa Romani, conversing lightly on 
 various subjects connected with the festivities of the coming 
 morrow. The long windows were open — the warm spring 
 sunlight lay like a filmy veil of woven gold on the tender 
 green of the young grass, birds sung for joy *nd flitted from 
 
branch to branch, aow poising hoveringly above their nests, 
 oow soaring with all the luxury of perfect liberty into the 
 high heaven of cloudless blue — the great creamy buds of the 
 magnolia looked ready to burst into wide and splendid 
 flower between their large, darkly shining leaves, the odor 
 of violets and primroses floated on every delicious breath of 
 lir, and round the wide veranda the climbing white china 
 roses had already unfurled their little crumpled rosette-like 
 Blossoms to the balmy wind. It was spring in Souther^ 
 Italy — spring in the land where, above all other lands, spring 
 Is lovely— sudden and brilliant in its beauty as might be the 
 smile of a happy angel. Gran Dio ! — talk of angels ! Had I 
 not a veritable angel for my companion at that moment ? 
 What fair being, even in Mohammed's Paradise of Houris, 
 could outshine such charms as those which it was my proud 
 privilege to gaze upon without rebuke — dark eyes, rippling 
 golden hair, a dazzling and perfect face, a form to tempt the 
 virtue of a Galahad, and lips that an emperor might long to 
 touch — in vain ? Well, no I— not altogether in vain : if his 
 imperial majesty could offer a bribe large enough — let us say 
 a diamond the size of a pigeon's tgg — he might possibly 
 purchase one, nay ! — perhaps two kisses from that seductive 
 red mouth, sweeter than the ripest strawberry. I glanced at 
 her furtively from time to time when she was not aware of 
 my gaze ; and glad was I of the sheltering protection of the 
 dark glasses I wore, for I knew and felt that there was 
 a terrible look in my eyes — the look of a half-famished tiger 
 ready to spring on some long-desired piece of prey. She 
 herself was exceptionally bright and cheerful ; with her 
 riantc features and agile movements, she reminded me of some 
 tropical bird of gorgeous plumage swaying to and fro on a 
 branch of equally gorgeous blossom. 
 
 '* You are like a prince in a fairy tale, Cesare," she said, 
 with a little delighted laugh ; " everything you do is superbly 
 ione ! How pleasant it is to be so rich — there is nothing 
 oetter in all the world." 
 
 " Except love 1 " I returned, with a grim attempt to be sen- 
 timental. 
 
 Her large eyes softened like the pleading eyes of a tame 
 lawn. 
 
 " Ay, yes I " and she smiled with expressive tenderness, 
 ''except love. But when one has both love and wealth, 
 what a paradise life can be t " 
 
 "So great a paradise," I assented "that it is hardb 
 
2&£ vendetta! 
 
 worth while trying to get into heaven at all ! Will you make 
 earth a heaven for me, Nina 7nia, or will you only love me 
 as much — or as little — as you loved your late husband ? " 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders and pouted like a spoilt child. 
 
 "Why are you so fond of talking about my late husband, 
 Cesare ? " she asked, peevishly ; "lam so tired of his name i 
 Besides, one does not always care to be reminded of dead 
 people — and he died so horribly too ! I have often told yot 
 that I did not love him at all. I liked him a little, and I wai 
 quite ill when that dreadful monk, who looked like a ghcst 
 himsel f , came and told me he was dead. Fancy hearing 
 such a piece of news suddenly, while I was actually at 
 luncheon with Gui — Signore Ferrari ! W T e were both shocked, 
 of course, but I did not break my heart over it. Now I 
 really do love you " 
 
 I drew nearer to her on the couch where she sat, and put 
 one arm round her. 
 
 " You really do?" I asked, in a half-incredulous tone ; 
 u you are quite sure ? " 
 
 She laughed and nestled her head on my shoulder, 
 
 " I am quite sure ! How many times have you asked me 
 that absurd question ? What can I say, what can I do — to 
 make you believe me ? " 
 
 " Nothing," I answered, and answered truly, for certainly 
 nothing she could say or do would make me believe her for a 
 moment. " But how do you love me — for myself or for my 
 wealth?" 
 
 She raised her head with a proud, graceful gesture. 
 
 " For yourself, of course ! Do you think mere wealth could 
 ever win my affection ? No, Cesare ! I love you for your 
 own sake — your own merits have made you dear to me." 
 
 I smiled bitterly. She did not see the smile. I slowly 
 caressed her silky hair. 
 
 " For that sweet answer, carissima mia 9 you shall have 
 j our reward. You called me a fairy prince just now — perhaps 
 [ merit that title more than you know. You remember the 
 jewels I sent you before we ever met ? " 
 
 ** Remember them ! " she exclaimed. " They are my 
 choicest ornaments. Such &parure is fit for an empress/' 
 
 u And an empress of beauty wears them ! " I said, lightly, 
 " But they are mere trifles compared to other gems which I 
 possess, and which I intend to offer for your acceptance-,' ' 
 
 Her eves glistened with avarice and expectancy. 
 
 M Oh, let me see them I " she cried u If they are lovelia 
 
[VENDETTA! 183 
 
 than those I already have, they must be indeed magnificent \ 
 And are they all for me ? " 
 
 " All for you ! " I replied, drawing her closer, and playing 
 with the small white hand on which the engagement-ring I 
 had placed there sparkled so bravely. "All for my bride. 
 A little hoard of bright treasures ; red rubies, ay — as red as 
 blood — diamonds as brilliant as the glittering of crossed dag 
 gers — sapphires as blue as the lightning — pearls as pure as the 
 ittle folded hands of a dead child— opals as dazzlingl) 
 ohangeful as woman's love I Why do you start ? n for she had 
 ^aoved restlessly in my embrace. " Do I use bad similes ? 
 Ah, cara mia> I am no poet ! I can but speak of things as 
 they seem to my poor judgment. Yes, these precious things 
 are for you, bellissima; you have nothing to do but to take 
 them, and may they bring you much joy I * 
 
 A momentary pallor had stolen over her face while I was 
 speaking — speaking in my customary hard, harsh voice, which 
 I strove to render even harder and harsher than usual — but 
 she soon recovered from whatever passing emotion she may 
 have felt, and gave herself up to the joys of vanity and greed, 
 the paramount passions of her nature. 
 
 " I shall have the finest jewels in all Naples ! " she laughed, 
 delightedly. " How the women will envy me ! But where 
 are these treasures ? May I see them now — immediately ? " 
 
 " No, not quite immediately," I replied, with a gentle de- 
 rision that escaped her observation. " To-morrow night — 
 our marriage night — you shall have them. And I must also 
 fulfill a promise I made to you. You wish to see me for 
 once without these," and I touched my dark glasses — " is it 
 not so ? " 
 
 She raised her eyes, conveying into their lustrous depths 
 an expression of melting tenderness. 
 
 " Yes, M she murmured ; " I want to see you as you are/*' 
 
 " I fear you will be disappointed," I said, with some irony,, 
 u for my eyes are not pleasant to look at." 
 
 " Never mind," she returned, gayly. " I shall be satisfied 
 if I see them just once, and we need not have much light in 
 the room, as the light gives you pain. I would not be the 
 cause of suffering to you — no, not for all the world ! " 
 
 " You are very amiable," I answered, " more so than I de- 
 serve. I hope I may prove worthy of your tenderness ! But 
 to return to the subject of the jewels. I wish you to see them 
 lor yourself and choose the best among them* Will you come 
 
284 VENDETTA J 
 
 with me tomorrow night ? and I will show you where they 
 are." 
 
 She laughed sweetly. 
 
 " Are you a miser, Cesare ? — and have you some secret 
 hiding-place full of treasure like Aladdin ? " 
 
 I smiled. 
 
 II Perhaps I have," I said. " There are exceptional cases in 
 which one fears to trust even to a bank. Gems such as those 
 I have to offer you are almost priceless, and it would be un 
 wise, almost cruel toplaee such tempting toys within the reach 
 of even an honest man. At any rate, if I have been some 
 thing of a miser, it is for your sake ; for your sake I have per- 
 sonally guarded the treasure that is to be your bridal gift 
 You cannot blame me for this ? " 
 
 In answer she threw her fair arms round my neck and 
 kissed me. Strive against it as I would, I always shuddered 
 at the touch of her lips — a mingled sensation of loathing and 
 longing possessed me that sickened while it stung my soul. 
 
 "Amormio/" she murmured. "As if /could blame 
 you ! You have no faults in my estimation of you. You 
 are good, brave and generous — the best of men ; there is 
 
 only one thing I wish sometimes " Here she paused, 
 
 and her brow knitted itself frowningly, while a puzzled, 
 pained expression came into her eyes. 
 
 " And that one thing is ? " I inquired. 
 
 " That you did not remind me so often of Fabio," she 
 said, abruptly and half angrily. " Not when you speak of 
 him, I do not mean that. What I mean is, that you have 
 ways like his. Of course I know there is no actual resenv 
 
 blance, and yet " She paused again, and again looked 
 
 troubled. 
 
 " Really, carina mia" I remarked, lightly and jestingly, 
 u you embarrass me profoundly ! This fancy of yours is a 
 most awkward one for me. At the convent where I visited 
 you, you became quite ill at the contemplation of my hand, 
 which you declared was like the hand of your deceased hus- 
 band ; and now — this same foolish idea is returning, when I 
 hoped it had gone, with other morbid notions of an oversen- 
 sitive brain, forever. Perhaps you think I am your late hus- 
 band ? " 
 
 And I laughed aloud ! She trembled a little, but soon 
 laughed also. 
 
 " I know I am very absurd," she said, " perhaps I am a 
 little nervous and unstrung ; I have had too much excite 
 
VENDETTA ) 28$ 
 
 ment lately. Tell me more about the jewels. When will you 
 take me to see them ? " 
 
 " To-morrow night," I answered, " while the ball is going 
 on, you and I will slip away together — we shall return again 
 before any of our friends can miss us. You will come with 
 me?" 
 
 " Of course I will," she replied, readily, u only we must 
 not be long absent, because my maid will have to pack my 
 wedding-dress, and then there will be the jewels also to put 
 ^n my strong box. Let me see ! We stay the night at the 
 Hotel, and leave for Rome and Paris the first thing in the 
 corning, do we not ? " 
 
 " That is the arrangement, certainly," I said, with a cold 
 imile. 
 
 " The little place where you have hidden your jewels, you 
 droll Cesare, is quite near then ? " she asked. 
 
 " Quite near," I assented, watching her closely. 
 
 She laughed and clapped her hands. 
 
 " Oh, I must have them," she exclaimed. " It would be 
 ridiculous to go to Paris without them. But why will you 
 not get them yourself, Cesare, and bring them here to me ? " 
 
 " There are so many," I returned, quietly, " and I do not 
 know which you would prefer, Some are more valuable 
 than others. And it will give me a special satisfaction — one 
 that I have long waited for — to see you making your own 
 choice." 
 
 She smiled half shyly, half cunningly. 
 
 " Perhaps I will make no choice," she whispered, "perhaps 
 I will take them all, Cesare. What will you say then ? " 
 
 " That you are perfectly welcome to them," I replied. 
 
 She looked slightly surprised. 
 
 " You are really too good to me, caro tnw" she said ; " you 
 spoil me." 
 
 " Can you be spoiled ?" I asked, half jestingly. " Good 
 women are like fine brilliants — the more richly they are set 
 the more they shine." 
 
 She stroked my hand caressingly. 
 
 " No one ever made such pretty speeches to me as you 
 do ! " she murmured. 
 
 " Not even Guido Ferrari ? " I suggested, ironically. 
 
 She drew herself up with an inimitably well-acted gesture 
 of lofty disdain. 
 
 " Guido Ferrari I " she exclaimed. " He dared not address 
 me save with the greatest respect ! I was a3 a queen to him f 
 
286 VENDETTA i 
 
 It was only lately that he began to presume on the trust left 
 him by my husband, and then he became too familiar— »a 
 mistake on his part, for which you punished him — as he 
 deserved 1 " 
 
 I rose from my seat beside her, I could not answer for 
 my own composure while sitting so close to the actual 
 murderess of my friend and her lover. Had she forgotten 
 her own "familiar " treatment of the dead man — the thou 
 ^and nameless wiles and witcheries and tricks of her trade, 
 3y which she had beguiled his soul and ruined his honor? 
 
 " I am glad you are satisfied with my action in that affair,'" 
 1 said, coldly and steadily. " I myself regret the death of 
 the unfortunate young man, and shall continue to do so. 
 My nature, unhappily, is an oversensitive one, and is apt to 
 be affected by trifles. But now, tnia bella, farewell until to- 
 morrow — happy to-morrow ! — when I shall call you mine 
 indeed!" 
 
 A warm flush tinted her cheeks ; she came to me where 
 I stood, and leaned against me. 
 
 " Shall I not see you again till we meet in the church ? M 
 she inquired, with a becoming bashfulness. 
 
 " No. I will leave you this last day of your brief widow- 
 hood alone. It is not well that I should obtrude myself 
 upon your thoughts or prayers. Stay ! " and I caught her 
 hand which toyed with the flower in my buttonhole. " I see 
 you still wear your former wedding-ring, May I take it 
 off?" 
 
 " Certainly." And she smiled while I deftly drew off the 
 plain gold circlet I had placed there nearly four years 
 since. 
 
 " Will you let me keep it ? " 
 
 " If you like, /would rather not see it again." 
 
 " You shall not," I answered, as I slipped it into my 
 pocket. " It will be replaced by a new one to-morrow — one 
 that I hope may be the symbol of more joy to you than this 
 has been." 
 
 And as her eyes turned to my face in all their melting, 
 perfidious languor, I conquered my hatred of her by a strong 
 effort, and stooped and kissed her. Had I yielded to my 
 real impulses, I would have crushed her cruelly in my arms, 
 and bruised her delicate flesh with the brutal ferocity of 
 caresses born of bitterest loathing, not love. But no sign ol 
 my aversion escaped me — all she saw was her elderly look 
 Ing admirer* with his calmly courteous demeanor, skill smil$ 
 
r V&NDETTA I 2S7 
 
 and almost parental tenderness ; and she judged him merely 
 as an influential gentleman of good position and unlimited 
 income, who was about to make her one of the most envied 
 women in all Italy. 
 
 The fugitive resemblance she traced in me to het " dead " 
 husband was certainly attributed by her to a purely acci- 
 dental likeness common to many persons in this world, where 
 every man, they say, has his double, and for that matte: 
 every woman also. Who does not remember the touching 
 surprise of Heinrich Heine when, on visiting the picture 
 gallery of the Palazzo Durazzo in Genoa, he was brought 
 face to face with the portrait, as he thought, of a dead 
 
 woman he had loved " Maria la morte." It mattered not 
 
 to him that the picture was very old, that it had been painted 
 by Giorgio Barbarelli centuries before his " Maria " could have 
 lived ; he simply declares : " II est vraimentd une ressemblance 
 admirable, ressemblant jusqic 'du silence de la mort /" 
 
 Such likenesses are common enough, and my wife, though 
 my resemblance to myself (!) troubled her a little, was very 
 far from imagining the real truth of the matter, as indeed 
 how should she ? What woman, believing and knowing, as 
 far as anything can be known, her husband to be dead and 
 fast buried, is likely to accept even the idea of his possible 
 escape from the tomb ! Not one ! — else the disconsolate 
 widows would indeed have reason to be more inconsolable 
 than they appear ! 
 
 When I left her that morning I found Andrea Luzianl 
 waiting for me at my hotel. He was seated in the outer en 
 trance hall ; I bade him follow me into my private salon. 
 He did so. Abashed at the magnificence of the apartment, 
 he paused at the doorway, and stood, red cap in hand, hesi 
 tating, though with an amiable smile on his sunburned merrj 
 countenance. 
 
 " Come in, amico" I said, with an inviting gesture, " and 
 sit down. All this tawdry show of velvet and gilding must 
 seem common to your eyes, that have rested so long on the 
 sparkling pomp of the foaming waves, the glorious blue cur» 
 tain of the sky, and the sheeny white of the sails of the 
 ' Laura ' gleaming in the gold of the sun. Would I could 
 live such a life as yours, Andrea ! — there is nothing better 
 under the width of heaven." 
 
 The poetical temperament of the Sicilian was caught and 
 fired by my words. He at once forgot the splendid appur* 
 tenances of wealth and the costly luxuries that surrounded 
 
288 VENDETTA t 
 
 him ; he advanced without embarrassment, and seated hlra- 
 self on a velvet and gold chair with as much ease as though 
 it were a coil of rough rope on board the " Laura." 
 
 " You say truly, eccellenza," he said, with a gleam of his 
 white teeth through his jet-black mustache, while his warm 
 southern eyes flashed fire, " there is nothing sweeter than the 
 life of the marmaro. And truly there are many who say to 
 me, * Ah, ah ! Andrea ! bnon amico, the time comes when 
 you will wed, and the home where the wife and children sit 
 will seem a better thing to you than the caprice of the wind 
 and waves.' But I — see you ! — I know otherwise. The 
 woman I wed must love the sea ; she must have the fear- 
 less eyes that can look God's storms in the face — her 
 tender words must ring out all the more clearly for the sound 
 of the bubbling waves leaping against the ' Laura ' when the 
 wind is high ! And as for our children," he paused and 
 laughed, "per la Santissima Madonna / if the salt and iron 
 of the ocean be not in their blood, they will be no children 
 of mine ! " 
 
 I smiled at his enthusiasm, and pouring out some choice 
 Montepulciano, bade him taste it. He did so with a keen 
 appreciation of its flavor, such as many a so-called connois- 
 seur of wines does not possess. 
 
 " To your health, eccellenza ! " he said ; " and may you 
 long enjoy your life I " 
 
 1 thanked him ; but in my heart I was far from echoing 
 the kindly wish. 
 
 " And are you going to fulfill the prophecy of your friends, 
 Andrea?" I asked. " Are you about to marry?" 
 
 He set down his glass only partly emptied, and smiled with 
 an air of mystery. 
 
 "Mbbenei ckisal" he replied, with a gay little shrug of 
 his shoulders, yet with a sudden tenderness in his keen eyes 
 that did not escape me. * ' There is a maiden — my mother 
 loves her well — she is little and fair as Carmelo Neri's Teresa 
 —so high," and he laid his brown hand lightly on his breast, 
 " her head touches just here," and he laughed. " She looks 
 as frail as a lily, but she is hardy as a sea-gull, and no one 
 loves the wild waves more than she. Perhaps, in the month 
 of the Madonna, when the white lilies bloom — perhaps I— one 
 can never tell — the old song may be sung for us— 
 
 " Chi safervente amar 
 Solo 2 felice I " 
 
 And humming the tune of the well-known love-ditty undet 
 
V&NDBTVAI 289 
 
 bis breath, he raised his glass of wine to his lips and drained 
 It off with a relish, while his honest face beamed with gayety 
 and pleasure. Always the same story, I thought, moodily, 
 Love, the tempter — Love, the destroyer — Love, the curse I 
 Was there no escape possible from this bewildering snare 
 'chat thus caught and slew the soul? of men ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 He soon rou«ed himself from his pleasant reverie, and 
 drawing his chair closer to mine, assumed an air of mystery 
 
 " And for your friend who is in trouble," he said, in a con- 
 fidential tone, then paused and looked at me as though wait- 
 ing permission to proceed. 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 " Go on, amico. What have you arranged ? " 
 
 " Everything 1 " he announced, with an air of triumph. 
 u All is smooth sailing. At six o'clock on Friday morning 
 the * Rondinella,' that is the brig I told you of, eccellenza, will 
 weigh anchor for Civita Vecchia. Her captain, old Antonio 
 Bardi, will wait ten minutes or even a quarter of an hour if 
 Decessary for the — the " 
 
 " Passenger," I supplemented. * Very amiable of him, 
 but he will not need to delay his departure for a single instant 
 beyond the appointed hour. Is he satisfied with the passage 
 money ? " 
 
 " Satisfied ! " and Andrea swore a good-natured oath and 
 iaughed aloud. " By San Pietro ! if he were not, he would 
 deserve to drown like a dog on the voyage 1 Though truly, 
 }t is always difficult to please him, he being old and cross \nd 
 Crusty. Yes ; he is one of those men who have seen so mv.ch 
 of life that they are tired of it. Believe it ! even the stormiest 
 sea is a tame fish-pond to old Bardi. But he is satisfied this 
 time, eccellenza, and his tongue and eyes are so tied up that 
 1 should not wonder if your friend found him to be both dumb 
 and blind when he steps on board." 
 
 " That is well," I said, smiling. " I owe you many thanks, 
 Andrea. And yet there is one more favor I would ask of 
 you." 
 
 He saluted me with a light yet graceful gesture. 
 
 w Eccellenza, anything I can do — command me." 
 
 "It is *. mere trifle," I returned M It is merely to take 9 
 
tgo VENDETTA t ~ 
 
 small valise belonging to my friend, and to place it on board 
 the ' Rondinella ' under the care of the captain. Will you do 
 this?" 
 
 " Most willingly. I will take it now if it so please you." 
 
 " That is what I desire. Wait here and I will bring it to 
 you." 
 
 And leaving him for a minute or two, I went into my bed- 
 zoom and took from a cupboard I always kept locked a com 
 mon rough leather bag, which I had secretly packed myself, 
 anknown to Vincenzo, with such things as I judged to be use- 
 ful and necessary. Chief among them was a bulky roll of 
 bank-notes. These amounted to nearly the whole of the re- 
 mainder of the money I had placed in the bank at Palermo. 
 I had withdrawn it by gradual degrees, leaving behind only a 
 couple of thousand francs, for which I had no special need. 
 I locked and strapped the valise ; there was no name on it and 
 it was scarcely any weight to carry. I took it to Andrea, who 
 swung it easily in his right hand and said, smilingly : 
 
 " Your friend is not wealthy, eccellenza, if this is all his 
 luggage !" 
 
 " You are right," I answered, with a slight sigh ; " he is 
 truly very poor — beggared of everything that should be his 
 through the treachery of those whom he has benefited." I 
 paused ; Andrea was listening sympathetically. " That is 
 why I have paid his passage-money, and have done my best 
 to aid him." 
 
 u Ah ! you have the good heart, eccellenza," murmured the 
 Sicilian, thoughtfully. " Would there were more like you I 
 Often when fortune gives a kick to a man, nothing will suit 
 but that all who see him must kick him also. And thus the 
 povero diavolo dies of so many kicks, often ! This friend ot 
 yours is young, senza dubbio f " 
 
 " Yes, quite young, not yet thirty." 
 
 u It is as if you were a father to him ! " exclaimed Andrei > 
 enthusiastically. " I hope he may be truly grateful to you 
 eccellenza." 
 
 " I hope so too," I said, unable to resist a smile. " And 
 now, amico, take this," and I pressed a small sealed packet 
 into his hand. " It is for yourself. Do not open it till ^you 
 are at home with the mother you love so well, and the little 
 maiden you spoke of by your side. If its contents please you, 
 as I believe they will, think that / am also rendered happier 
 by your happiness." 
 
 His dark eyes sparkled with gratitude as I spoke, and set 
 
I 
 
 VENDETTA t §0t 
 
 ting the valise he held down on the ground, he stretched out 
 his hand half timidly, half frankly. I shook it warmly and 
 bade him farewell. 
 
 "Per BaccoV he said, with a sort of shamefaced eager 
 ness, " the very devil must have caught my tongue in his fin« 
 gers ! There is something I ought to say to you, eccellenza, 
 but for my life I cannot find the right words. I must thank 
 you better when I see you next." 
 
 " Yes," I answered, dreamily and somewhat wearily, " when 
 ou see me next, Andrea, you shall thank me if you will ; but 
 elieve me, I need no thanks." 
 
 And thus we parted, never to meet again — he to the strong 
 
 glad life that is born of the wind and sea, and I to But 
 
 let me not anticipate. Step by step through the labyrinths of 
 memory let me go over the old ground watered with blood 
 and tears, not missing one sharp stone of detail on the drear 
 pathway leading to the bitter end. 
 
 That same evening I had an interview with Vincenzo. Ke 
 was melancholy and taciturn — a mood which was the result 
 of an announcement I had previously made to him — namely, 
 that his services would not be required during my wedding- 
 trip. He had hoped to accompany me and to occupy the 
 position of courier, valet, major-domo, and generally confi- 
 dential attendant — a hope which had partially soothed the 
 vexation he had evidently felt at the notion of my marrying 
 at all. 
 
 His plans were now frustrated, and if ever the good-natured 
 fellow could be ill-tempered, he was assuredly so on this 
 occasion. He stood before me with his usual respectful air, 
 but he avoided my glance, and kept his eyes studiously fixed 
 on the pattern of the carpet. I addressed him with an air 
 of gayety. 
 
 " Ebbene, Vincenzo ! Joy comes at last, you see, even to 
 toe! To-morrow I shall wed the Countess Romani — the 
 loveliest and perhaps the richest woman in Naples ! " 
 
 " I know it, eccellenza." 
 
 This with the same obstinately fixed countenance and 
 downward look. 
 
 " You are not very pleased, I think, at the prospect of my 
 happiness ? " I asked, banteringly. 
 
 He glanced up for an instant, then as quickly down again. 
 
 " If one could be sure that the illustrissimo eccellenza was 
 indeed happy, that would be a good thing," he answered- 
 
192 VEN&ETTAi 
 
 il And are you not sure ? " 
 
 He paused, then replied firmly : 
 
 " No ; the eccellenza does not look happy. No, no, 
 davvero / He has the air of being sorrowful and ill, both 
 together.'" 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders indifferently. 
 
 " You mistake me, Vincenzo. I am well— very well — and 
 lappy ! Gran Dio ! who could be happier ? But what of 
 my health or happiness ? — they are nothing to me, and should 
 be less to you. Listen ; I have something I wish you to do 
 for me." 
 
 He gave me a sidelong and half-expectant glance. I went 
 on: 
 
 " To-morrow evening I want you to go to Avellino." 
 
 He was utterly astonished. 
 
 " To Avellino ! " he murmured under his breath, " to Avel- 
 lino!" 
 
 "Yes, to Avellino," I repeated, somewhat impatiently. 
 " Is there anything so surprising in that ? You will take a let- 
 ter from me to the Signora Monti. Look you, Vincenzo, you 
 have been faithful and obedient so far, I expect implicit 
 fidelity and obedience still. You will not be needed here 
 to-morrow after the marriage ball has once begun ; you can 
 take the nine o'clock train to Avellino, and — understand me 
 — you will remain there till you receive further news from 
 me. You will not have to wait long, and in the mean time," 
 here I smiled, " you can make love to Lilla." 
 
 Vincenzo did not return the smile. 
 
 " But — but," he stammered, sorely perplexed — " if I go to 
 Avellino I cannot wait upon the eccellenza. There is the 
 portmanteau to pack — and who will see to the luggage when 
 you leave on Friday morning for Rome ? And — and — I had 
 
 thought to see you to the station " He stopped, his 
 
 yexation was too great to allow him to proceed. 
 
 I laughed gently. 
 
 " How many more trifles can you think of, my friend, in 
 opposition to my wishes ? As for tlie portmanteau, you can 
 pack it this very day if you so please — then it will be in 
 readiness. The rest of your duties can for once be per- 
 formed by others. It is not only important, but imperative 
 that you should go to Avellino on my errand. I want you 
 to take this with you," and I tapped a small square iron box, 
 heavily made and strongly padlocked, which stood on the 
 table near me. 
 
+RNDETTAt S93 
 
 He glanced at the box, but still hesitated, and the gloom 
 on his countenance deepened. I grew a little annoyed. 
 
 " What is the matter with you ? " I said at last with 
 some sternness. " You have something on your mind-^ 
 speak out ! " 
 
 The fear of my wrath startled him. He looked up with a 
 bewildered pain in his eyes, and spoke, his mellow Tuscan 
 voice vibrating with his own eloquent entreaty. 
 
 " Eccellenza ! " he exclaimed, eagerly, " you must forgive 
 me — yes, forgive your poor servant who seems too bold, and 
 who yet is true to you — yes, indeed, so true ! — and who would 
 go with you to death if there were need ! I am not blind, I 
 can see your sufferings, for you do suffer, 'lustrissimo, though 
 you hide it well. Ohen have I watched you when you have 
 not known it. I feel that you have what we call a wound in 
 the heart, bleeding, bleeding always. Such a thing means 
 death often, as much as a straight shot in battle. Let me 
 watch over you, eccellenza ; let me stay with you ! I have 
 learned to love you ! Ah, mio signor," and he drew nearer 
 and caught my hand timidly, " you do not know — how should 
 you ? — the look that is in your face sometimes, the look of 
 one who is stunned by a hard blow. I have said to myself 
 ' That look will kill me if I see it often.' And your love for 
 this great lady, whom you will wed to-morrow, has not light- 
 ened your soul as love should lighten it. No ! you are even 
 sadder than before, and the look I speak of comes ever again 
 and again. Yes, I have watched you, and lately I have seen 
 you writing, writing far into the night, when you should have 
 slept. Ah, signor i you are angry, and I know I should not 
 have spoken ; but tell me, how can I look at Lilla and be 
 happy when I feel that you are alone and sad ? " 
 
 I stopped the flood of his eloquence by a mute gesture and 
 withdrew my hand from his clasp. 
 
 " I am not angry," I said, with quiet steadiness, and yet 
 with something of coldness, though my whole nature, always 
 highly sensitive, was deeply stirred by the rapid, unstudied 
 expressions of affection that melted so warmly from his lips 
 in the liquid music of the mellow Tuscan tongue. " No, I 
 am not angry, but I am sorry to have been the object of so 
 much solicitude on your part. Your pity is misplaced, Vin* 
 cenzo, it is indeed ! Pity an emperor clad in purples and 
 seated on a throne of pure gold, but do not pity me ! I tell 
 you that, to-morrow, yes, to-morrow, I shall obtain all that I 
 have ever sought — my greatest desire will be fulfilled. Believe 
 
*94 rBHTDBTTAt 
 
 it. No man has ever been so thoroughly satiated with-* 
 
 satisfaction — as I shall be ! " 
 
 Then seeing him look still sad and incredulous, I clapped 
 my hand on his shoulder and smiled. 
 
 " Come, come, amico, wear a merrier face for my bridal 
 day, or you will not deserve to wed Lilla. I thank you from 
 my heart," and I spoke more gravely, "for your well meant 
 care and kindness, but I assure you there is nothing wrong 
 with me. I am well — perfectly well — and happy. It is uit 
 ierstood that you go to Avellino to-morrow evening ? " 
 
 Vincenzo sighed, but was passive. 
 
 " It must be as the eccellenza pleases," he murmured, re* 
 signedly. 
 
 " That is well," I answered, good-humoredly ; " and as you 
 know my pleasure, take care that nothing interferes with youi 
 departure. And — one word more — you must cease to watch 
 me. Plainly speaking, I do not choose to be under your sur- 
 veillance. Nay — I am not offended, far from it, fidelity and 
 devotion are excellent virtues, but in the present case I 
 prefer obedience — strict, implicit obedience. Whatever I 
 may do, whether I sleep or wake, walk or sit still — attend to 
 your duties and pay no heed to my actions. So will you best 
 serve me — you understand ? " 
 
 " Si, signor ! " and the poor fellow sighed again, and red- 
 dened with his own inward confusion. " You will pardon 
 me, eccellenza, for my freedom of speech ? I feel I have 
 done wrong " 
 
 ** I pardon you for what in this world is never pardoned— 
 excess of love," I answered, gently. " Knowing you love me, 
 I ask you to obey me in my present wishes, and thus we shall 
 always be friends." 
 
 His face brightened at these last words, and his thoughts 
 turned in a new direction. He glanced at the iron box I had 
 before pointed out to him. 
 
 " That is to go to Avellino, eccellenza ? " he asked, with 
 more alacrity than he had yet shown. 
 
 " Yes," I answered. " You will place it in the hands of 
 the good Signora Monti, for whom I have a great respect 
 She will take care of it till — I return/' 
 
 " Your commands shall be obeyed, signor," he said, rapid* 
 ly, as though eager to atone for his past hesitation. " Aiter 
 all," and he smiled, " it will be pleasant to see Lilla ; she will 
 be interested, too, to hear the account oi the eccellenza'! 
 marriage." 
 
VENDETTA I *gg 
 
 md somewhat consoled by the prospect of the entertain 
 ment his unlooked-for visit would give to the charming little 
 maiden of his choice, he left me, and shortly afterward 1 
 heard him humming a popular love-song softly under his 
 breath, while he busied himself in packing my portmanteau 
 for the honeymoon trip — a portmanteau destined never to 
 V>e used or opened by its owner. 
 
 That night, contrary to my usual habit, I lingered lcng 
 over my dinner ; at its close I poured out a full glass of 
 fine Lacrima Cristi, and secretly mixing with it a dose of a 
 tasteless but powerful opiate, I called my valet and bade him 
 drink it and wish me joy. He did so readily, draining the 
 contents to the last drop. It was a tempestuous night ; there 
 was a high wind, broken through by heavy sweeping gusts ol 
 rain. Vincenzo cleared the dinner-table, yawning visibly as 
 he did so, then taking my out-door paletot on his arm, he 
 went to his bedroom, a small one adjoining mine, for the 
 purpose of brushing it, according to his customary method. 
 I opened a book, and pretending to be absorbed in its con- 
 tents, I waited patiently for about half an hour. 
 
 At the expiration of that time I stole softly to his door and 
 looked in. It was as I had expected ; overcome by the sud- 
 den and heavy action of the opiate, he had thrown himself 
 on his bed, and was slumbering profoundly, the unbrushed 
 overcoat by his side. Poor fellow ! I smiled as I watched 
 him ; the faithful dog was chained, and could not follow my 
 steps for that night at least. 
 
 I left him thus, and wrapping myself in a thick Almaviva 
 that muffled me almost to the eyes, I hurried out, fortunately 
 meeting no one on my way — out into the storm and darkness, 
 toward the Campo Santo, the abode of the all-wise though 
 speechless dead. I had work to do there — work that must 
 be done. I knew that if I had not taken the precaution oi 
 drugging my too devoted servitor, he might, despite his pro- 
 testations, have been tempted to track me whither I went. 
 As it was, I felt myself safe, for four hours must pass, I knew, 
 before Vincenzo could awake from his lethargy. And I was 
 absent for some time. 
 
 Though I performed my task as quickly as might be, it took 
 me longer than I thought, and filled me with more loathing 
 and reluctance than I had deemed possible. It was a grew- 
 some, ghastly piece of work — a work of preparation — and when 
 1 had finished it entirely to my satisfaction, I felt as though 
 tjie bony fingers of death itself had been plunged mto my ver| 
 
296 VENDETTA! ^ 
 
 marrow. I shivered with cold, my limbs would scarce beat 
 me upright, and my teeth chattered as though I were seized 
 by strong ague. But the fixity of my purpose strengthened 
 me till all was done — till the stage was set for the last scene 
 of the tragedy. Or comedy ? What you will ! I know that 
 in the world nowadays you make a husband's dishonor more 
 of a whispered jest than anything else — you and your heavy 
 machinery of the law. But to me — I am so strangely con- 
 stituted — dishonor is a bitterer evil than death. If all those 
 who are deceived and betrayed felt thus, then justice would 
 need to become more just. It is fortunate — for the lawyers 
 —that we are not all honorable men I 
 
 When I returned from my dreary walk in the driving storm 
 I found Vincenzo still fast asleep. I was glad of this, foi 
 had he seen me in the plight I was, he would have had good 
 reason to be alarmed concerning both my physical and mental 
 condition. Perceiving myself in the glass, I recoiled as from 
 an image of horror. I saw a man with haunted, hungry eyes 
 gleaming out from under a mass of disordered white hair, his 
 pale, haggard face set and stern as the face of a merciless in- 
 quisitor of old Spain, his dark cloak dripping with glittering 
 raindrops, his hands and nails stained as though he had dug 
 them into the black earth, his boots heavy with mire and clay, 
 his v/hole aspect that of one who had been engaged in some 
 abhorrent deed, too repulsive to be named. I stared at my 
 own reflection thus and shuddered ; then I laughed softly 
 with a sort of fierce enjoyment. Quickly I threw off all my 
 soiled habiliments, and locked them out of sight, and arraying 
 myself in dressing-gown and slippers, I glanced at the time. 
 It was half-past one — already the morning of my bridal. I 
 had been absent three hours and a half. I went into my 
 salon and remained there writing. A few minutes after two 
 o'clock had struck the door opened noiselessly, and VincenzOj 
 looking still very sleepy, appeared with an expression of in 
 quiring anxiety. He smiled drowsily, and seemed relieved 
 to see me sitting quietly in my accustomed place at the writ- 
 ing-table. I surveyed him with an air of affected surprise. 
 
 " Ebbene, Vincenzo ! What has become of you all this 
 while ? " 
 
 " Eccellenza," he stammered, "it was the Lacrima; I am 
 not used to wine ! I have been asleep." 
 
 I laughed, pretended to stifle a yawn on my own account^ 
 and rose from my easy-chair. 
 
 " Veramente" I said, lightly, " so have I, very nearly* 
 
WEND ETTA I *9f 
 
 And if I would appear as a gay bridegroom, it is time I went 
 
 to bed. Bno?ia notte? 
 
 u Buona notte, signor" 
 
 And we severally retired to rest, he satisfied that I had 
 been in my own room all the evening, and I, thinking with a 
 savage joy at my heart of what I had prepared out there in 
 the darkness, with no witnesses of my work save the whirling 
 wind and rain. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 My marriage morning dawned bright and clear, though 
 the high wind of the past night still prevailed and sent the 
 white clouds scudding rapidly, like ships running a rac^ 
 across the blue fairness of the sky. The air was strong, 
 fresh, and exhilarating, and the crowds that swarmed into 
 the Piazza del Popolo, and the Toledo, eager to begin the 
 riot and fun of Giovedi Grasso, were one and all in the 
 highest good humor. As the hours advanced, many little 
 knots of people hurried toward the cathedral, anxious, if 
 possible, to secure places in or near the Chapel of San 
 Gennaro, in order to see to advantage the brilliant costumes 
 of the few distinguished persons who had been invited to 
 witness my wedding. The ceremony was fixed to take place 
 at eleven, and at a little before half past ten I entered my 
 carriage, in company with the Duke di Marina as best man, 
 and drove to the scene of action. Clad in garments of ad 
 mirable cut and fit, with well-brushed hair and beard, and 
 wearing a demeanor of skillfully mingled gravity and gayety, 
 I bore but little resemblance to the haggard, ferocious creat 
 ure who had faced me in the mirror a few hours previously 
 
 A strange and secret mirth too possessed me, a sort o\ 
 half-frenzied merriment that threatened every now and then 
 to break through the mask of dignified composure it was 
 necessary for me to wear. There were moments when 1 
 could have laughed, shrieked, and sung with the fury of a 
 drunken madman. As it was, I talked incessantly; my 
 conversation was flavored with bitter wit and pungent sar- 
 casm, and once or twice my friend the duke surveyed me with 
 an air of wondering inquiry, as though he thought my man- 
 ner forced or unnatural. My coachman was compelled to 
 drive rather slowly, owing to the pressing throngs thai 
 iwarmed at overy corner and through every thoroughfare 
 
g* VENDETTA I 
 
 While the yells of the masqueraders, the gambols of street 
 downs, the firing of toy guns, and the sharp explosion of 
 colored bladders, that were swung to and fro and tossed in 
 the air by the merry populace, startled my spirited horses 
 frequently, and caused them to leap and prance to a some- 
 what dangerous extent, thus attracting more than the custom- 
 ary attention to my equipage. As it drew up at last at the 
 door of the chapel, I was surprised to see what a number oi 
 spectators had collected there. There was a positive crowd 
 of loungers, beggars, children, and middle-class persons of 
 all sorts, who beheld my arrival with the utmost interest and 
 excitement. 
 
 In accordance with my instructions a rich crimson carpet 
 nad been laid down from the very edge of the pavement 
 right into the church as far as the altar; a silken awning had 
 also been erected, under which bloomed a miniature avenue 
 of palms and tropical flowers. All eyes were turned upon 
 me curiously as I stepped from my carriage and entered the 
 chapel, side by side with the duke, and murmurs of my vast 
 wealth and generosity were audibly whispered as I passed 
 along. One old crone, hideously ugly, but with large, dark 
 piercing eyes, the fading lamps of a lost beauty, chuckled 
 and mumbled as she craned her skinny throat forward to 
 observe me more closely. " Ay, ay ! The saints know he 
 need be rich and generous— pover'uomo to fill her mouth. A 
 little red cruel mouth always open, that swallows money like 
 macaroni, and laughs at the suffering poor ! Ah ! that is 
 bad, bad t He need be rich to satisfy kerf" 
 
 The Duke di Marina caught these words and glanced 
 quickly at me, but I affected not to have heard. Inside the 
 chapel there were a great number of people, but my own 
 invited guests, not numbering more than twenty or thirty, 
 were seated in the space apportioned to them near the altar, 
 which was divided from the mere sight-seers by means of a 
 silken rope that crossed the aisle, I exchanged greetings 
 with most of these persons, and in return received their con- 
 gratulations ; then I walked with a firm deliberate step up 
 to the high altar and there waited. The magnificent paint- 
 ings on the wall round me seemed endowed with mysterious 
 life — the grand heads of saints and martyrs were turned 
 upon me as though they demanded — " Must thou do this 
 thing ? Hast thou no forgiveness ? " 
 
 And ever my stern answer. " Nay ; if hereafter I am tor 
 
SEND ETTA t 
 
 •99 
 
 lured in eternal flame for all ages, yet now— *iow while I live, 
 I will be avenged ! " 
 
 A bleeding Christ suspended on His cross gazed at me re- 
 proachfully with long-enduring eyes of dreadful anguish— eyes 
 that seemed to say, " Oh, erring man, that tormentest thyself 
 with passing passions, shall not thine own end approach speed 
 Sly ? — and what comfort wilt thou have in thy last hour? " 
 
 And inwardly I answered, " None ! No shred of consola 
 ;ion can ever again be mine — no joy, save fulfilled revenge \ 
 And this I will possess though the heavens should crack and 
 che earth split asunder ! For once a woman's treachery shall 
 meet with punishment — for once such strange uncommon 
 justice shall be done ! " 
 
 And my spirit wrapped itself again in somber meditative 
 silence. The sunlight fell gloriously through the stained win- 
 dows — blue, gold, crimson, and violet shafts of dazzling radi- 
 ance glittered in lustrous flickering patterns on the snowy 
 whiteness of the marble altar, and slowly, softly, majestically, 
 as though an angel stepped forward, the sound of music stole 
 on the incense-laden air. The unseen organist played a sub- 
 lime voluntary of Palestrina's, and the round harmonious 
 notes came falling gently on one another like drops from a 
 fountain trickling on flowers. 
 
 I thought of my last wedding-day, when I had stood in this 
 very place, full of hope, intoxicated with love and joy, when 
 Guido Ferrari had been by my side, and had drunk in for the 
 first time the poisoned draught of temptation from the loveli- 
 ness of my wife's face and form ; when I, poor fool ! would 
 as soon have thought that God could lie, as that either of 
 these whom I adored could play me false. I drew the wed- 
 ding-ring from my pecket and looked at it — it was sparklingly 
 bright and appeared new. Yet it was old — it was the very 
 same ring I had drawn off my wife's finger the day before ; 
 it had only been burnished afresh by a skilled jeweler, and 
 showed no more marks of wear than if it had been bought 
 that morning. 
 
 The great bell of the cathedral boomed out eleven, and as 
 the last stroke swung from the tower, the chapel doors were 
 flung more widely open : then came the gentle rustle of trail- 
 ing robes, and turning, I beheld my wife. She approached, 
 leaning lightly on the arm of the old Chevalier Mancini, who, 
 true to his creeds of gallantry, had accepted with alacrity the 
 post of paternal protector to the bride on this occasion ; and 
 I could not well wonder at the universal admiration that brokn 
 
30O VENDETTA! ~ « 
 
 m suppressed murmurs from all assembled, as this mDst fair 
 masterpiece of the devil's creation paced slowly and grace- 
 fully up the aisle. She wore a dress of clinging white velvet 
 made with the greatest simplicity — a lace veil, priceless in 
 value and fine as gossamer, draped her from head to foot — 
 the jewels I had given her flashed about her like scintillating 
 points of light, in her hair, at her waist, on her breast and un- 
 covered arms. 
 
 Being as she deemed herself, a widow, she had no bride 
 'naids; her train was held up by a handsome boy clad in the 
 purple and gold costume of a sixteenth century page — he was 
 the youngest son of the Duke di Marina. Two tiny girls of 
 five and six years of age went before, strewing white roses 
 and lilies, and stepping daintily backward as though in attend- 
 ance on a queen ; they looked like two fairies who had slipped 
 out of a midnight dream, in their little loose gowns of gold- 
 colored plush, with wreaths of meadow daffodils on their tum- 
 bled curly hair. They had been well trained by Nina herself, 
 for on arrival at the altar they stood demurely, one on each 
 side of her, the pretty page occupying his place behind, and 
 still holding up the end of the velvet train with a charming 
 air of hauteur and self-complacency. 
 
 The whole cortege was a picture in its way, as Nina had 
 meant it to be : she was fond of artistic effects. She smiled 
 languishingly upon me as she reached the altar, and sunk on 
 her knees beside me in prayer. The music swelled forth with 
 redoubled grandeur, the priests and acolytes appeared, the 
 marriage service commenced. As I placed the ring on the 
 book I glanced furtively at the bride ; her fair head was bent 
 demurely — she seemed absorbed in holy meditations. The 
 priest having performed the ceremony of sprinkling it with 
 holy water, I took it back, and set it for the second time on 
 my wife's soft white little hand — set it in accordance with the 
 Catholic ritual, first on the thumb, then on the second finger, 
 then on the third, and lastly on the fourth, where I left it in 
 its old place, wondering as I did so, and murmured, " In 
 Nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti y Amen / " whether 
 she recognized it as the one she had worn so long ! But it 
 was evident she did not ; her calm was unbroken by even so 
 much as a start or tremor ; she had the self-possession of a 
 perfectly satisfied, beautiful, vain, and utterly heartless woman. 
 
 The actual ceremony of marriage was soon over ; then fol* 
 lowed the Mass, in which we, the newly-wedded pair, were 
 compelled* in submission to th§ rule of the Church, to receiv* 
 
VENDETTA t 361 
 
 ihe Sacrament. I shuddered as the venerable priest gave me 
 the Sacred Host. What had I to do with the inward purity 
 and peace this memento of Christ is supposed to leave in our 
 Bouls ? Methought the Crucified Image in the chapel regarded 
 me afresh with those pained eyes, and said, " Even so dost 
 ihou seal thine own damnation ! " Yet she, the true murder- 
 ess, the arch liar, received the Sacrament with the face of a 
 /apt angel — the very priest himself seemed touched by those 
 upraised, candid, glorious eyes, the sweet lips so reverently 
 parted, the absolute, reliable peace that rested on that white 
 brow, like an aureole round the head of a saint 1 
 
 " If / am damned, then is she thrice damned I " I said to 
 myself, recklessly. " I dare say hell is wide enough for us to 
 live apart when we get there." 
 
 Thus I consoled my conscience, and turned resolutely 
 away from the painted appealing faces on the wall — the faces 
 that in their various expressions of sorrow, resignation, pain, 
 and death seemed now to be all pervaded by another look, 
 that of astonishment — astonishment, so I fancied, that such 
 a man as I, and such a woman as she, should be found in 
 the width of the whole world, and should be permitted to 
 kneel at God's altar without being struck dead for their blas- 
 phemy ! 
 
 Ah, good saints, well may you be astonished ! Had you 
 lived in our day you must have endured worse martyrdoms 
 than the boiling oil or the wrenching rack ! What you suf- 
 feied was the mere physical pain of torn muscles and scorch- 
 ing flesh, pain that at its utmost could not last long; but 
 your souls were clothed with majesty and power, and were 
 glorious in the light of love, faith, hope, and charity with all 
 men. We have reversed the position you occupied ! We 
 have partly learned, and are still learning, how to take care 
 of our dearly beloved bodies, how to nourish and clothe them 
 and guard them from cold and disease ; but our souls, good 
 saints, the souls that with you were everything — these we 
 smirch, burn, and rack, torture and destroy — these we stamp 
 upon till we crush out God's image therefrom — these we 
 spit and jeer at, crucify and drown ! There is the difference 
 between you, the strong and wise of a fruitful olden time, 
 and we, the miserable, puny weaklings of a sterile modem 
 age. 
 
 Had you, sweet St. Dorothy, or fair child-saint Agnes, 
 lived in this day, you would have felt something sharper 
 than the executioner's sword: for being pure, you would 
 
3©8 VENDETTA / 
 
 have been dubbed the worst of women— being prayerfu!, yo* 
 would have been called hypocrites — being faithful, you would 
 have been suspected of all vileness — being loving, you would 
 have been mocked at more bitterly than the soldiers of Pon- 
 tius Pilate mocked Christ ; but you would have been jree— 
 free to indulge your own opinions, for ours is the age of lib- 
 erty. Yet how much better for you to have died than have 
 lived till now \ 
 
 Absorbed in strange, half-morose, half-speculative fancies,. 
 I scarcely heard the close of the solemn service. I was 
 roused by a delicate touch from my wife, and I woke, as it 
 were, with a start, to hear the sonorous, crashing chords of 
 the wedding-march in u Lohengrin " thundering through the 
 air. All was over : my wife was mine indeed—mine most 
 thoroughly — mine by the exceptionally close-tied knot of a 
 double marriage — mine to do as I would with "till death 
 should us part.'' How long, I gravely mused, how long be* 
 fore death could come to do us this great service ? And 
 straightway I began counting, counting certain spaces of 
 time that must elapse before — — I was still absorbed in this 
 mental arithmetic, even while I mechanically offered my 
 arm to my wife as we entered the vestry to sign our names 
 in the marriage register. So occupied was I in my calcula- 
 tions that I nearly caught myself murmuring certain numbers 
 aloud. I checked this, and recalling my thoughts by a strong 
 effort, I strove to appear interested and delighted, as I 
 walked down the aisle with my beautiful bride, through the 
 ranks of admiring and eager spectators. 
 
 On reaching the outer doors of the chapel several flower- 
 girls emptied their full and fragrant baskets at our feet ; and 
 in return. I bade one of my servants distribute a bag of coins 
 I had brought for the purpose, knowing from former experi- 
 ence that it would be needed. To tread across such a heap 
 of flowers required some care, many of the blossoms cling- 
 ing to Nina's velvet train — we therefore moved forward 
 slowly. 
 
 Just as we had almost reached the carriage, a young girl, 
 with large laughing eyes set like flashing jewels in her soft 
 oval face, threw down in my path a cluster of red roses. A 
 sudden fury of impotent passion possessed me, and I crushed 
 my heel instantly and savagely upon the crimson blossoms, 
 stamping upon them again and again so violently that my 
 wife raised her delicate eyebrows in amazement, and the 
 pressing people who stood round u& shrugged their shoulder^ 
 
VENDETTA! ^j$ 
 
 and gazed at one another with looks of utter bewilderment — 
 while the girl who had thrown them shrunk back in terror, 
 her face paling as she murmured, " Santissima Madonna ! mi 
 fapaura /" I bit my lip with vexation, inwardly cursing the 
 weakness of my own behavior. I laughed lightly in answer 
 to Nina's unspoken, half-alarmed inquiry. 
 
 " It is nothing — a mere fancy of mine. I hate red roses f 
 They look to me like human blood in flower ! " 
 
 She shuddered slightly. 
 
 M What a horrible idea ! How can you think of such a 
 J.iing ? " 
 
 I made no response, but assisted her into the carriage 
 with elaborate care and courtesy ; then entering it myself, 
 we drove together back to the hotel, where the wedding 
 breakfast awaited us. 
 
 This is always a feast of general uneasiness and embar- 
 rassment everywhere, even in the sunny, pleasure-loving 
 south ; every one is glad when it is over, and when the 
 flowery, unmeaning speeches and exaggerated compliments 
 are brought to a fitting and happy conclusion. Among my 
 assembled guests, all of whom belonged to the best and most 
 distinguished families in Naples, there was a pervading 
 atmosphere of undoubted chilliness : the women were dull, 
 being rendered jealous of the bride's beauty and the richness 
 cf her white velvets and jewels ; the men were constrained, 
 and could scarcely force themselves into even the appear- 
 ance of cordiality — they evidently thought that, with such 
 wealth as mine, I would have done much better to remain a 
 bachelor. In truth, Italians, and especially Neapolitans, 
 are by no means enthusiastic concerning the supposititious 
 joys of marriage. They are apt to shake their heads, and 
 to look upon it as a misfortune rather than a blessing. " L' 
 altar e e la tomb a delF amore, " is a very common saying with 
 us, and very commonly believed. 
 
 It was a relief to us all when we rose from the splendidly 
 appointed table, and separated for a few hours. We were 
 to meet again at the ball, which was fixed to commence at 
 nine o'clock in the evening. The cream of the event was to 
 be tasted then — the final toasting of the bride was to takrj 
 place then — then there would be music, mirth and dancing; 
 and all the splendor of almost royal revelry. I escorted my 
 wife with formal courtesy to a splendid apartment which had 
 been prepared for her, for she had, as she told me, many things 
 to do — as, for instance, to take off her bridal robes, to study 
 
£04 VENDETTA* 
 
 every detail of her wondrous ball costume for the night, and 
 
 to superintend her maid in the packing of her trunks for the 
 next day's journey. The next day! I smiled grimly — I 
 wondered how she would enjoy her trip ! Then I kissed her 
 hand with the most profound respect and left her to repose 
 — to refresh and prepare herself for the brilliant festivity of 
 the evening. 
 
 Our marriage customs are not as coarse as those of some 
 countries ; a bridegroom in Italy thinks it scarcely decent to 
 persecute his bride with either his presence or his caresses 
 as soon as the Church has made her his. On the contrary, if 
 ardent, he restrains his ardor — he forbears to intrude, he 
 strives to keep up the illusion, the rose-colored light, or 
 rather mist, of love as long as possible, and he has a wise, 
 instinctive dread of becoming overfamiliar ; well knowing 
 that nothing kills romance so swiftly and surely as the bare 
 blunt prose of close and constant proximity. And I, like 
 other gentlemen of my rank and class, gave my twice-wedded 
 wife her liberty — the last hours of liberty she would ever 
 know. I left her to busy herself with the trifles she best 
 loved — trifles of dress and personal adornment, for which 
 many women barter away their soul's peace and honor, and 
 jivest themselves of the last shred of right and honest prin- 
 ciple merely to outshine others of their own sex, and sow 
 broadcast heart-burnings, petty envies, mean hatreds and 
 contemptible spites, where, if they did but choose, there 
 might be a widely different harvest. 
 
 It is easy to understand the feelings of Marie Stuart when 
 she arrayed herself in her best garments for her execution : 
 it was simply the heroism of supreme vanity, the desire to 
 fascinate if possible the very headsman. One can under- 
 stand any beautiful woman being as brave as she. Harder 
 han death itself would it have seemed to her had she been 
 compelled to appear on the scaffold looking hideous. She 
 was resolved to make the most of her charms so long as life 
 lasted. I thought of that sweet-lipped, luscious-smiling 
 queen as I parted from my wife for a few brief hour: : royal 
 and deeply injured lady though she was, she merited her 
 fate, for she was treacherous — there can be no doubt of that. 
 Yet most people reading her history pity her — I know not 
 why. It is strange that so much of the world's sympathy is 
 wasted on false women ! 
 
 I strolled into one of the broad Joggle of the hotel, from 
 vbence I uxid see a portion of the Piazza del Popolo* and 
 
VENDETTA t 
 
 3«5 
 
 lighting a cigar, I leisurely watched the frolics of the crowd 
 The customary fooling proper to the day was going on, and 
 no detail of it seemed to pall on the good-natured, easily 
 amused folks who must have seen it all so often before. 
 Much laughter was being excited by the remarks of a vender 
 of quack medicines, who was talking with extreme volubility 
 to a number of gayly dressed girls and fishermen. I could 
 not distinguish his words, but I judged he was selling the 
 ' 4 elixir of love," from his absurd amatory gestures — an elixi. 
 :ompounded, no doubt, of a little harmless eau sucrk. 
 
 Flags tossed on the breeze, trumpets brayed, drums beat , 
 improvisatores twanged their guitars and mandolins loudly 
 to attract attention, and failing in their efforts, swore at each 
 other with the utmost joviality and heartiness ; flower-girls 
 and lemonade-sellers made the air ring with their conflicting 
 cries : now and then a shower of chalky confetti flew out 
 from adjacent windows, dusting with white powder the coats 
 of the passers-by ; clusters of flowers tied with favors of gay- 
 colored ribbon were lavishly flung at the feet of bright-eyed 
 peasant girls, who rejected or accepted them at pleasure, with 
 light words of badinage or playful repartee ; ciowns danced 
 and tumbled, dogs barked, church bells clanged, and through 
 all the waving width of color and movement crept the mis- 
 erable, shrinking forms of diseased and loathly beggars whin- 
 ing for a soldo, and clad in rags that barely covered their 
 halting, withered limbs. 
 
 It was a scene to bew/lder the brain and dazzle the eyes, 
 and I was just turning away from it out of sheer fatigue, 
 when a sudden cessation of movement in the swaying, whirl- 
 ing crowd, and a slight hush, caused me to look out once 
 more. I perceived the cause of the momentary stillness — a 
 funeral cortege appeared, moving at a slow and solemn pace; 
 as it passed across the square, heads were uncovered, antf 
 women crossed themselves devoutly. Like a black shadow} 
 snake it coiled through the mass of shifting color and brill- 
 iance — another moment, and it was gone. The depressing 
 effect of its appearance was soon effaced — the merry crowds 
 resumed their thousand and one freaks of folly, their shriek- 
 ing, laughing and dancing, and all was as before. Why not ? 
 
 The dead are soon forgotten ; none knew that better than 
 I ! Leaning my arms lazily on the edge of the balcony, I 
 finished smoking my cigar. That glimpse of death in the 
 midst of life had filled me with a certain satisfaction. 
 Strangely enough, my thoughts began to busy themselves 
 20 
 
6 m VENDETTA I 
 
 with the old modes of torture that used to be legal, and that, 
 after all, were not so unjust when practiced upon persona 
 professedly vile. For instance, the iron coffin of Lissa — that 
 ingeniously contrived box in which the criminal was bound 
 fast hand and foot, and then was forced to watch the huge 
 lid descending slowly, slowly, slowly, half an inch at a time, 
 till at last its ponderous weight crushed into a flat and 
 mangled mass the writhing wretch within, who had for long 
 agonized hours watched death steadily approaching. Sup> 
 pose that /had such a coffin now ! I stopped my train of 
 reflection with a slight shudder. No, no ; she whom I sought 
 to punish was so lovely, such a softly colored, witching, 
 gracious body, though tenanted by a wicked soul — she should 
 keep her beauty ! I would not destroy that — I would be 
 satisfied with my plan as already devised. 
 
 I threw away the end of my smoked-out cigar and entered 
 my own rooms. Calling Vincenzo, who was now resigned 
 and even eager to go to Avellino, I gave him his final in- 
 structions, and placed in his charge the iron cash-box, which, 
 unknown to him, contained 12,000 francs in notes and gold. 
 This was the last good action I could do : it was a sufficient 
 sum to set him up as a well-to-do farmer and fruit-grower in 
 Avellino with Lilla and her little dowry combined. He also 
 carried a sealed letter to Signora Monti, which I told him 
 she was not to open till a week had elapsed ; this letter 
 explained the contents of the box and my wishes concerning 
 it ; it also asked the good woman to send to the Villa Romani 
 for Assunta and her helpless charge, poor old paralyzed 
 Giacomo, and to tend the latter as well as she could till hi» 
 death, which I knew could not be far off. 
 
 I had thought of everything as far as possible, and I could 
 already foresee what a happy, peaceful home there would be 
 in the little mountain town guarded by the Monte Vergine. 
 Lilla and Vincenzo would wed, I knew ; Signora Monti and 
 Assunta would console each other with their past memories 
 and in the tending of Lilla's children ; for some little time, 
 perhaps, they would talk of me and wonder sorrowfully where 
 I had gone ; then gradually they would forget me, even as I 
 desired to be forgotten. 
 
 Yes; I had done all I could for those who had never 
 wronged me. I had acquitted myself of my debt to Vincenzo 
 for his affection and fidelity ; the rest of my way was clear. 
 I had no more to do save the one thing, the one deed which 
 had clamored so long for accomplishment* Revenge, like 4 
 
VENDETTA i y^ 
 
 beckoning ghost, had led me on step by step for many weary 
 days and months, which to me had seemed cycles of suffering; 
 but now it paused — it faced me — and turning its blood-red 
 eyes upon my soul said, " Strike ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 The ball opened brilliantly. The rooms were magnifi 
 cently decorated, and the soft luster of a thousand lamps 
 shone on a scene of splendor almost befitting the court of a 
 king. Some of the stateliest nobles in all Italy were present, 
 their breasts glittering with jeweled orders and ribbons of 
 honor ; some of the loveliest women to be seen anywhere in 
 the world flitted across the polished floors, like poets' dreams 
 of the gliding sylphs that haunt rivers and fountains by 
 moonlight. 
 
 But fairest where all were fair, peerless in the exuberance 
 of her triumphant vanity, and in the absolute faultlessness of 
 her delicate charms, was my wife — the bride of the day, the 
 heroine of the night. Never had she looked so surpassingly 
 beautiful, and I, even I, felt my pulse beat quicker, and the 
 blood course more hotly through my veins, as I beheld her, 
 radiant, victorious, and smiling — a veritable queen of the 
 fairies, as dainty as a drop of dew, as piercing to the eye as 
 a flash of light. Her dress was some wonderful mingling of 
 misty lace, with the sheen of satin and glimmering showers 
 of pearl ; diamonds glittered on her bodice like sunlight on 
 white foam ; the brigand's jewels flashed gloriously on hei 
 round white throat and in her tiny shell-like ears, while the 
 masses of her gold hair were coiled to the top of her smar 
 head and there caught by a priceless circlet of rose 
 brilliants — brilliants that I well remembered — they had be 
 ponged to my mother. Yet more lustrous than the light of th* 
 gems she wore was the deep, ardent glory of her eyes, dark 
 as night and luminous as stars ; more delicate than the filmy 
 robes that draped her was the pure, pearl-like whiteness of hei 
 neck, which was just sufficiently displayed to be graceful 
 without suggesting immodesty. 
 
 For Italian women do not uncover their bosoms for the 
 casual inspection of strangers, as is the custom of their Eng- 
 lish and German sisters ; they know well enough that an\ 
 lady venturing to wear a dkolktk dress would find it imposs* 
 
Jo* VENDETTA I 
 
 ble to obtain admittance to a court ball at the Palazzo Quirt 
 nale. She would be looked upon as one of a questionable 
 class, and no matter how high her rank and station, would 
 run the risk of ejection from the doors, as on one occasion 
 did unfortunately happen to an English peeress, who, ignorant 
 of Italian customs, went to an evening reception in Rome ar- 
 rayed in a very low bodice with straps instead of sleeves. Hej 
 remonstrances were vain ; she was politely but firmly refused 
 admittance, though told she might gain her point by chang- 
 ing her costume, which I believe she wisely did. 
 
 Some of the gra?ides dames present at the ball that night 
 wore dresses the like of which are seldom or never seen out 
 of Italy — robes sown with jewels, and thick with wondrous 
 embroidery, such as have been handed down from genera- 
 tion to generation through hundreds of years. As an example 
 of this, the Duchess of Marina's cloth of gold train, stitched 
 with small rubies and seed-pearls, had formerly belonged to 
 the family of Lorenzo de Medici, Such garments as these, 
 when they are part of the property of a great house, are worn 
 only on particular occasions, perhaps once in a year ; and 
 then they are laid carefully by and sedulously protected from 
 dust and moths and damp, receiving as much attention as 
 the priceless pictures and books of a famous historical man- 
 sion. Nothing ever designed by any great modern tailor ot 
 milliner can hope to compete with the magnificent workman- 
 ship and durable material of Xhsfesta dresses that are locked 
 preciously away in the old oaken coffers of the greatest 
 Italian families — dresses that are beyond valuation, because 
 of the romances and tragedies attached to them, and which, 
 when worn, make all the costliest fripperies of today look 
 flimsy and paltry beside them, like the attempts of a servant 
 to dress as tastefully as her mistress. 
 
 Such glitter of gold and silver, such scintillations from the 
 burning eyes of jewels, such cloud-like wreaths of floating 
 laces, such subtle odors of rare and exquisite perfume, all 
 things that most keenly prick and stimulate the senses were 
 round me in fullest force this night — this one dazzling, 
 supreme and terrible night, that was destined to burn into 
 my brain like a seal of scorching fire. Yes ; till I die, that 
 night will remain with me as though it were a breathing, sen- 
 tient thing ; and after death, who knows whether it may not 
 uplift itself in some tangible, awful shape, and confront me 
 with its flashing mock-luster, and the black heart of its true 
 meaning in its menacing eyes, tc take its drear place by ttM 
 
VENDETTA I y*, 
 
 side of my abandoned soul through all eternity ! I remem- 
 ber now now I shivered and started out of the bitter reverie 
 into which I had fallen at the sound of my wife's low, laugh- 
 ing voice. 
 
 " You must dance, Cesare," she said, with a mischievous 
 smile. " You are forgetting your duties. You should open 
 the oall with me V* 
 
 I rose at once mechanically, 
 
 " What dance is it ? M I asked, torcing a smile. M I fea* 
 you will find me out a clumsy partner." 
 
 She pouted. 
 
 ' Oh, purely not I You are not going to disgrace me — you 
 really must try and dance properly just this once. It will 
 look so stupid if you make any mistake. The band was 
 going to play a quadrille ; I would not have it, and told 
 them to strike up the Hungarian waltz instead. But I as- 
 sure you I shall never forgive you if you waltz badly — nothing 
 looks so awkward and absurd." 
 
 I made no answer, but placed my arm round her waist and 
 stood ready to begin. I avoided looking at her as much as 
 possible, for it was growing more and more difficult with each 
 moment that passed to hold the mastery over myself. I was 
 consumed between hate and love. Yes, love ! — of an evil 
 kind, I own, and in which there was no shred of reverence — ■ 
 filled me with a sort of foolish fury, which mingled itself with 
 another and manlier craving, namely, to proclaim her vile- 
 ness then and there before all her titled and admiring 
 friends, and to leave her shamed in the dust of scorn, despised 
 and abandoned. Yet I knew well that were I to speak out 
 — to declare my history and hers before that brilliant crowd 
 — I should be accounted mad, and that for a woman such as 
 she there existed no shame. 
 
 The swinging measure of the slow Hungarian waltz, that 
 most witching of dances, danced perfectly only by those of 
 the warm-blooded southern temperament, now commenced 
 It was played pianissimo, and stole through the room like the 
 fluttering breath of a soft sea wind. I had always been an 
 excellent waltzer, and my step had fitted in with that of Nina 
 as harmoniously as the two notes of a perfect chord. She 
 found it so on 3iis occasion, and glanced up with a look of 
 gratified surprise as I bore her lightly with languorous, dream- 
 like ease of movement through the glittering ranks of our 
 guests, who watched us admiringly as we circled the roo» 
 V&o or three time& 
 
gte VENDETTA! 
 
 Then — all present followed our lead, and in a couple of 
 
 minutes the ball-room was like a moving flower-garden in full 
 bloom, rich with swaying colors and rainbow-like radiance -, 
 while the music, growing stronger, and swelling out in marked 
 and even time, echoed forth like the sound of clear-toned bells 
 broken through by the singing of birds. My heart beat furl 
 ously, my brain reeled, my senses swam as I felt my wife'i 
 warm breath on my cheek ; I clasped her waist more closely, 
 [ held her little gloved hand more firmly. She felt the double 
 pressure, and, lifting her white eyelids fringed with those 
 long dark lashes that gave such a sleepy witchery to her eyes, 
 her lips parted in a little smile. 
 
 " At last you love me ! " she whispered, 
 
 " At last, at last," I muttered, scarce knowing what I said. 
 " Had I not loved you at first, hellissima, I should not have 
 been to you what I am to-night" 
 
 A low ripple of laughter was her response. 
 
 " I knew it," she murmured again, half breathlessly, as I 
 drew her with swifter and more voluptuous motion into the 
 vortex of the dancers. " You tried to be cold, but I knew I 
 could make you love me — yes, love me passionately — and I 
 was right." Then with an outburst of triumphant vanity she 
 added, " I believe you would die for me ! " 
 
 I bent over her more closely. My hot quick breath moved 
 the feathery gold of her hair. 
 
 11 1 have died for you," I said ; " I have killed my old self 
 tor your sake." 
 
 Dancing still, encircled by my arms, and gliding along like 
 a sea-nymph on moonlighted foam, she sighed restlessly. 
 
 a Tell me what you mean, amor mio" she asked, in the 
 tenderest tone in the world. 
 
 Ah, God I that tender seductive cadence of her voice, how 
 well I knew it ! — how often had it lured away my strength, 
 as the fabled siren's song had been wont to wreck the listen 
 *ng mariner. 
 
 " I mean that you have changed me, sweetest ! n I whis- 
 pered, in fierce, hurried accents. " I have seemed old — for 
 you to-night I will be young again — for you my chilled slow 
 blood shall again be hot and quick as lava — for you my long- 
 buried past shall rise in all its pristine vigor ; for you I will 
 be a lover, such as perhaps no woman ever had or ever will 
 have again ! " 
 
 She heard, and nestled closer to me in the dance. Mj 
 words pleased her, Next to her worship of wealth her da 
 
VENDETTA / 311 
 
 light was to arouse the passions of men. She was very 
 panther-like in her nature — her first tendency was to devour, 
 her next to gambol with any animal she met, though her sleek, 
 swift playfulness might mean death. She was by no means 
 exceptional in this ; there are many women like her. 
 
 As the music of the waltz grew slower and slower, drop- 
 ping down to a sweet and persuasive conclusion, I led my 
 wife to her /auteui/, and resigned her to the care of a distin 
 guished Roman prince who was her next partner. Then, un 
 observed, I slipped out to make inquiries concerning Vincenzo, 
 He had gone ; one of the waiters at the hotel, a friend of his, 
 had accompanied him and seen him into the train for Avellino. 
 He had looked in at the ball-room before leaving, and had 
 watched me stand up to dance with my wife, then " with 
 tears in his eyes " — so said the vivacious little waiter who had 
 just returned from the station — he had started without daring 
 to wish me good-bye. 
 
 I heard this information of course with an apparent kindly 
 indifference, but in my heart I felt a sudden vacancy, a drear, 
 strange loneliness. With my faithful servant near me I had 
 felt conscious of the presence of a friend, for friend he was in 
 his own humble, unobtrusive fashion ; but now I was alone 
 — alone in a loneliness beyond all conceivable comparison- 
 alone to do my work, without prevention or detection. I felt, 
 as it were, isolated from humanity, set apart with my victim 
 on some dim point of time, from which the rest of the world 
 receded, where the searching eye of the Creator alone could 
 behold me. Only she and I and God — these three were all 
 that existed for me in the universe ; between these three must 
 justice be fulfilled. 
 
 Musingly, with downcast eyes, I returned to the ball-room. 
 At the door a young girl faced me — she was the only daugh- 
 ter of a great Neapolitan house. Dressed in pure white, as 
 all such maidens are, with a crown of snow-drops on her 
 dusky hair, and her dimpled face lighted with laughter, she 
 looked the very embodiment of early spring. She addressed 
 me somewhat timidly, yet with all a child's frankness. 
 
 " Is not this delightful ? I feel as if I were in fairy-land ! 
 Do you know this is my first ball ? " 
 
 I smiled wearily. 
 
 " Ay, truly ? And you are happy ? " 
 
 " Oh, happiness is not the word — it is ecstasy ! How I 
 wish it could last forever ! And — is it not strange ? — I did 
 not know I was beautiful till to-night." 
 
312 VENDETTA t 
 
 She said this with perfect simplicity, and a pleased smile 
 radiated her fair features. I glanced at her with cold scru- 
 tiny. 
 
 " Ah I and some one has told you so." 
 
 She blushed and laughed a little consciously. 
 
 " Yes ; the great Prince de Majano. And he is too noble 
 to say what is not true, so I must be k lapiu bella donzellaj as 
 he said, must I not ? " 
 
 I touched the snow-drops that she wore in a white cluster 
 at her breast. 
 
 " Look at your flowers, child," I said, earnestly. " See 
 how they begin to droop in this heated air. The poor things I 
 How glad they would feel could they again grow in the cool 
 wet moss of the woodlands, waving their little bells to the 
 wholesome, fresh wind ! Would they revive now, think you, 
 for your great Prince de Majano if he told them they were 
 fair? So with your life and heart, little one — pass them 
 through the scorching fire of flattery, and their purity must 
 wither even as these fragile blossoms. And as for beauty — 
 are you more beautiful than she ? " 
 
 And I pointed slightly to my wife, who was at that moment 
 courtesying to her partner in the stately formality of the first 
 quadrille. 
 
 My young companion looked, and her clear eyes darkened 
 enviously. 
 
 " Ah, no, no I But if I wore such lace and satin and 
 pearls, and had such jewels, I might perhaps be more like 
 herl" 
 
 I sighed bitterly. The poison had already entered this 
 child's soul. I spoke brusquely. 
 
 " Pray that you may never be like her," I said, with som- 
 ber sternness, and not heeding her look of astonishment. 
 " You are young — you cannot yet have thrown off religion. 
 Well, when you go home to-night, and kneel beside your little 
 bed, made holy by the cross above it and your mother's 
 blessing — pray — pray with all your strength that you may 
 never resemble in the smallest degree that exquisite woman 
 yonder ! So may you be spared her fate." 
 
 I paused, for the girl's eyes were dilated in extreme wonder 
 and fear. I looked at her, and laughed abruptly and 
 harshly. 
 
 " I forgot," I said ; " the lady is my wife — I should have 
 thought of that ! I was speaking of — another whom you do 
 not know. Pardon me ! when I am fatigued my memor| 
 
VENDETTA J 
 
 3*3 
 
 wanders. Pay no attention to my foolish remarks. Enjoy 
 yourself, my child, but do not believe all the pretty speeches 
 of the Prince de Majano. A rivederci!" 
 
 And smiling a forced smile I left her, and mingled with 
 the crowd of my guests, greeting one here, another there, 
 jesting lightly, paying unmeaning compliments to the women 
 who expected them, and striving to distract my thoughts 
 with the senseless laughter and foolish chatter of the glitter- 
 ing cluster of society butterflies, all the while desperatel) 
 counting the tedious minutes, and wondering whether my 
 patience, so long on the rack, would last out its destined 
 time. As I made my way through the brilliant assemblage, 
 Luziano Salustri, the poet, greeted me with a grave smile. 
 
 " I have had little time to congratulate you, conte," he 
 said, in those mellifluous accents of his which ~vere like his 
 own improvised music, "but I assure you I do so with all my 
 heart. Even in my most fantastic dreams I have never 
 pictured a fairer heroine of a life's romance than the lady 
 who is now the Countess Oliva." 
 
 I silently bowed my thanks. 
 
 " I am of a strange temperament, I suppose," he resumed. 
 " To-night this ravishing scene of beauty and splendor 
 makes me sad at heart, I know not why. It seems too brill- 
 iant, too dazzling. I would as soon go home and compose a 
 dirge as anything." 
 
 I laughed satirically. 
 
 " Why not do it ? " I said. " You are not the first person 
 who, being present at a marriage, has, with perverse incon- 
 gruity, meditated on a funeral ! " 
 
 A wistful look came into his brilliant poetic eyes. 
 
 " I have thought once or twice," he remarked in a low 
 tone, " of that misguided young man Ferrari A pity, was it 
 not, that the quarrel occurred between you ? " 
 
 " A pity indeed ! " I replied, brusquely. Then taking 
 him by the arm I turned him round so that he faced my wife, 
 who was standing not far off. " But look at the — the — angel 
 I have married ! Is she not a fair cause for a dispute even 
 unto death ? Fy on thee, Luziano ! — why think of Ferrari ? 
 He is not the first man who has been killed for the sake of 
 a woman, nor will he be the last ! " 
 
 Salustri shrugged his shoulders, and was silent for a minute 
 or two. Then he added with his own bright smile : 
 
 " Still, amico, it would have been much better if it had 
 ended in coffee and cognac. Myself, I would rather shoot 
 
3/4 VENDETTA! 
 
 a man with an epigram than a leaden bullet ! By the by% 
 do you remember our talking of Cain and Abel that night ? * 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 " I have wondered since," he continued half merrily, half 
 seriously, " whether the real cause of their quarrel has ever 
 been rightly told. I should not be at all surprised if one of 
 these days some savant does not discover a papyrus contain- 
 ing a missing page of Holy Writ, which will ascribe the rea- 
 son of the first bloodshed to a love affair. Perhaps there 
 were wood nymphs in those days, as we are assured there were 
 giants, and some dainty Dryad might have driven the first pair 
 of human brothers to desperation by her charms ! What say 
 you ? " 
 
 " It is more than probable," I answered, lightly. " Make 
 a poem of it, Salustri ; people will say you have improved 
 on the Bible ! " 
 
 And I left him with a gay gesture to join other groups, 
 and to take my part in the various dances which were now 
 following quickly on one another. The supper was fixed to 
 take place at midnight. At the first opportunity I had, I 
 looked at the time. Quarter to eleven ! — my heart beat 
 quickly, the blood rushed to my temples and surged noisily 
 in my ears. The hour I had waited for so long and so 
 eagerly had come ! At last ! at last ! 
 
 Slowly and with a hesitating step I approached my wife. 
 She was resting after her exertions in the dance, and reclined 
 languidly in a low velvet chair, chatting gayly with that very 
 Prince de Majano whose honeyed compliments had partly 
 spoiled the budding sweet nature of the youngest girl in the 
 room. Apologizing for interrupting the conversation, I low- 
 ered my voice to a persuasive tenderness as I addressed her, 
 
 " Car a sposina mia! permit me to remind you of your 
 promise." 
 
 What a radiant look she gave me ! 
 
 " I am all impatience to fulfill it ! Tell me when — and 
 how ? " 
 
 "Almost immediately. You know the private passage 
 through which we entered the hotel this morning on our re- 
 turn from church ? " 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 " Well, meet me there in twenty minutes. We must avoid 
 being observed as we pass out. But," and I touched her 
 delicate dress, " you will wear something warmer than this ? r 
 
 
VENDETTA! 315 
 
 "I have a long sable cloak that will do," she replied, 
 brightly. " We are not going far ? " 
 
 " No, not far." 
 
 " We shall return in time for supper, of course ? " 
 
 I bent my head. 
 
 " Naturally ! " 
 
 Her eyes danced mirthfully. 
 
 " How romantic it seems ! A moonlight stroll with you 
 will be charming ! Who shall say you are not a sentimental 
 bridegroom ? Is there a bright moon ? " 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 " Cosa bellissima /" and she laughed sweetly. " I look for- 
 ward to the trip ! In twenty minutes then I shall be with 
 you at the place you name, Cesare ; in the meanwhile the 
 Marchese Gualdro claims me for this mazurka." 
 
 And she turned with her bewitching grace of manner to 
 the marchese, who at that moment advanced with his court- 
 eous bow and fascinating smile, and I watched them as they 
 glided forward together in the first figure of the elegant 
 Polish dance, in which all lovely women look their loveliest. 
 
 Then, checking the curse that rose to my lips, I hurried 
 away. Up to my own room I rushed with feverish haste, 
 full of impatience to be rid of the disguise I had worn so 
 long. 
 
 Within a few minutes I stood before my mirror, transformed 
 into my old self as nearly as it was possible to be. I could 
 not alter the snowy whiteness of my hair, but a few deft 
 quick strokes of the razor soon divested me of the beard 
 that had given me so elderly an aspect, and nothing remained 
 but the mustache curling slightly up at the corners of the lip, 
 as I had worn it in past days, I threw aside the dark glasses, 
 and my eyes, densely brilliant, and fringed with the long 
 lashes that had always been their distinguishing feature, 
 shone with all the luster of strong and vigorous youth. ] 
 straightened myself up to my full height, I doubled my fist 
 and felt it hard as iron; I laughed aloud in the triumphant 
 power of my strong manhood. I thought of the old rag- 
 dealing Jew — "You could kill anything easily." Ay, so I 
 could ! — even without the aid of the straight swift steel of 
 the Milanese dagger which I now drew from its sheath and 
 regarded steadfastly, while I carefully felt the edge of the 
 blade from hilt to point. Should I take it with me ? I 
 hesitated. Yes ! it might be needed. I slipped it safelj 
 and secretly into my vest. 
 
3 i6 VENDETTA t 
 
 And now the proofs — the proofs ! I had them all ready to 
 my hand, and gathered them quickly together ; first the things 
 that had been buried with me — the gold chain on which hung 
 the locket containing the portraits of my wife and child, the 
 purse and card-case which Nina herself had given me, the 
 crucifix the monk had laid on my breast in the coffin. The 
 thought of that coffin moved me to a stern smile — that splin- 
 tered, damp, and moldering wood must speak for itself by and 
 by. Lastly I look the letters sent me by the Marquis D'Aven 
 court — the beautiful, passionate love epistles she had written 
 to Guido Ferrari in Rome. 
 
 Now, was that all ? I thoroughly searched both my rooms, 
 ransacking every corner. I had destroyed everything that 
 could give the smallest clew to my actions ; I left nothing 
 save furniture and small valuables, a respectable present 
 enough in their way, to the landlord of the hotel. 
 
 I glanced again at myself in the mirror. Yes ; I was once 
 more Fabio Romani, in spite of my white hair ; no one that 
 had ever known me intimately could doubt my identity. I had 
 changed my evening dress for a rough, every-day suit, and 
 now over this I threw my long Almaviva cloak, which draped 
 me from head to foot. I kept its folds well up about my 
 mouth and chin, and pulled on a soft slouched hat, with the 
 brim far down over my eyes. There was nothing unusual in 
 such a costume ; it was common enough to many Neapolitans 
 who have learned to dread the chill night winds that blow 
 down from the lofty Apennines in early spring. Thus attired, 
 too, I knew my features would be almost invisible to tier, 
 more especially as the place of our rendezvous was a long 
 dim entresol lighted only by a single oil-lamp, a passage that 
 led into the garden, one that was only used for private pur- 
 poses, having nothing to do with the ordinary modes of exit 
 and entrance to and from the hotel. 
 
 Into this hall I now hurried with an eager step ; it was de« 
 serted; she was not there. Impatiently I waited — the 
 minutes seemed hours ! Sounds of music floated toward me 
 from the distant ball-room — the dreamy, swinging measure 
 of a Viennese waltz. I could almost hear the flying feet of 
 the dancers. I was safe from all observation where I stood 
 — the servants were busy preparing the grand marriage sup- 
 per, and all the inhabitants of the hotel were absorbed in 
 watching the progress of the brilliant and exceptional festiv- 
 ities of the night. 
 
 Would she never come ? Suppose, after all, she should e» 
 
VENDETTA ! 
 
 3*7 
 
 cape me \ I trembled at the idea, then put it from me with a 
 smile at my own folly. No, her punishment was just, and in 
 her case the Fates were inflexible. So I thought and felt. 1 
 paced up and down feverishly ; I could count the thick, 
 heavy throbs of my own heart. How long the moments 
 seemed ! Would she never come ? Ah ! at last ! I caught 
 the sound of a rustling robe and a light step — a breath of del^ 
 cate fragrance was wafted on the air like the odor of falling 
 orange-blossoms. I turned, and saw her approaching. With 
 swift grace she ran up to me as eagerly as a child, her heavy 
 cloak of rich Russian sable falling back from her shoulders 
 and displaying her glittering dress, the dark fur of the hood 
 heightening by contrast the fairness of her lovely flushed 
 face, so that it looked like the face of one of Correggio's an- 
 gels framed in ebony and velvet. She laughed, and her eyes 
 flashed saucily. 
 
 " Did I keep you waiting, caro mio ? " she whispered ; and 
 standing on tiptoe she kissed the hand with which I ueld my 
 cloak muffled about me. " How tall you look in that Alma- 
 viva ! I am so sorry I am a little late, but that last waltz was 
 so exquisite I could not resist it ; only I wish you had danced 
 it with me." 
 
 " You honor me by the wish," I said, keeping one arm 
 about her waist and drawing her toward the door that opened 
 into the garden. " Tell me, how did you manage to leave 
 the ball-room ? " 
 
 " Oh, easily. I slipped away from my partner at the end 
 of the waltz, and told him I should return immediately. 
 Then I ran upstairs to my room, got my cloak — and here I 
 am. 
 
 And she laughed again. She was evidently in the highest 
 spirits. 
 
 " You are very good to come with me at all, mia bella" 1 
 nurmured as gently as I could ; " it is kind of you to thus 
 humor my fancy. Did you see your maid ? does she know 
 where you are going ? " 
 
 " She ? Oh, no, she was not in my room at all. She is a 
 great coquette, you know ; I dare say she is amusing herself 
 with the waiters in the kitchen. Poor thing ! I hope she en- 
 joys it." 
 
 I breathed freely ; we were so far undiscovered. No one 
 had as yet noticed our departure — no one had the least clew 
 to my intentions. I opened the door of the passage noise- 
 lessly, and we passed out, Wrapping my wife's sloak more 
 
318 VENDETTA t 
 
 closely about her with much apparent tenderness, I led he? 
 quickly across the garden. There was no one in sight — we 
 were entirely unobserved. On reaching the exterior gate of 
 the inclosure I left her for a moment, while I summoned a 
 carriage, a common fiacre. She expressed some surprise on 
 seeing the vehicle. 
 
 " I thought we were not going far ? " she said. 
 
 I reassured her on this point, telling her that I only desired 
 o spare her all possible fatigue. Satisfied with this explana- 
 tion, she suffered me to assist her into the carriage. I fol- 
 lowed her, and calling to the driver, " A la Villa Guarda," 
 we rattled away over the rough uneven stones of the back 
 streets of the city. 
 
 " La Villa Guarda ! " exclaimed Nina. " Where is that ? n 
 
 " It is an old house," I replied, " situated near the place I 
 spoke to you of, where the jewels are." 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 And apparently contented, she nestled back in the carriage, 
 permitting her head to rest lightly on my shoulder. I drew 
 her closer to me, my heart beating with a fierce, terrible joy. 
 
 " Mine — mine at last 1 " I whispered in her ear. " Mine 
 forever ! " 
 
 She turned her face upward and smiled victoriously; her 
 cool fragrant lips met my burning, eager ones in a close, 
 passionate kiss. Yes, I kissed her now — why should I not ? 
 She was as much mine as any purchased slave, and merited 
 less respect than a sultan's occasional female toy. And as 
 she chose to caress me, I let her do so : I allowed her to 
 think me utterly vanquished by the battery of her charms. 
 Yet whenever I caught an occasional glimpse of her face as 
 ve drove along in the semi-darkness, I could not help won- 
 dering at the supreme vanity of the woman ! Her self-satis- 
 faction was so complete, and, considering her approaching 
 ;&te, so tragically absurd ! 
 
 She was entirely delighted with herself, her dress, and her 
 conquest — as she thought — of me. Who could measure the 
 height of the dazzling visions she indulged in ; who could 
 fathom the depths of her utter selfishness ! 
 
 Seeing one like her, beautiful, wealthy, and above all — so- 
 ciety knows I speak the truth — well-dressed, for by the latter 
 v irtue alone is a woman allowed any precedence nowadays — - 
 would not all the less fortunate and lovely of her sex feel 
 somewhat envious ? Ah, yes ; they would and they do ; but 
 believe me. the selfish feminine thing, whose only sincere 
 
VENDETTA t 319 
 
 worship is offered at the shrines of Fashion and Folly, is of 
 all creatures the one whose life is to be despised and nevei 
 desired, and whose death makes no blank even in the circles 
 of her so-called best friends. 
 
 I knew well enough that there was not a soul in Naples 
 who was really attached to my wife — not one who would mis? 
 her, no, not even a servant — though she, in her superb self 
 conceit, imagined herself to be the adored beauty of the citv 
 Those who had indeed loved her she had despised, neglecter 
 and betrayed. Musingly I looked down upon her as sh 
 rested back in the carriage, encircled by my arm, while nov; 
 and then a little sigh of absolute delight in herself broke 
 from her lips — but we spoke scarcely at all. Hate has almost 
 as little to say as love ! 
 
 The night was persistently stormy, though no rain fell — the 
 gale had increased in strength, and the white moon only 
 occasionally glared out from the masses of white and gray 
 cloud that rushed like flying armies across the sky, and hei 
 fitful light shone dimly, as though she were a spectral torch 
 glimmering through a forest of shadow. Now and again 
 bursts of music, or the blare of d scordant trumpets, reached 
 our ears from the more distant thoroughfares where the people 
 were still celebrating the feast of Giovedi Grasso, or the 
 tinkle of passing mandolins chimed in with the rolling 
 wheels of our carriage ; but in a few moments we were out 
 of reach f even such sounds as these. 
 
 We passed the outer suburbs of the city and were soon on 
 the open road. The man I had hired drove fast ; he kne^ 
 nothing of us, he was probably anxious to get back quickly 
 to the crowded squares and illuminated quarters where the 
 principal merriment of the evening was going on, and no 
 doubt thought I showed but a poor taste in requiring to be 
 driven away, even for a short distance, out of Naples on sucfc 
 a night of feasting and folly. He stopped at last ; the cas- 
 tellated turrets of the villa I had named were faintly visible 
 among the trees ; he jumped down from his box and came 
 to us. 
 
 " Shall I drive up to the house ? " he asked, looking as 
 Ihough he would rather be spared this trouble. 
 
 " No," I answered, indifferently, " you need not. The dis- 
 tance is short, we will walk." 
 
 And I stepped out into the road and paid him his money. 
 
 " You seem anxious to get back to the city, my friend,/' 1 
 said, half jocosely. 
 
320 
 
 VENDETTA t 
 
 " Sz, davvtro!" he replied, with decision," I hope to gel 
 many a good fare from the Count Oliva's marriage-ball to- 
 night." 
 
 " Ah ! he is a rich fellow, that count," I said, as I assisted 
 my wife to alight, keeping her cloak well muffled round her 
 bo that this common fellow should not perceive the glitter of 
 her costly costume ; " I wish I were he I " 
 
 The man grinned and nodded emphatically. He had no 
 suspicion of my identity. He took me, in all probability 
 lot one of those " gay gallants " so common in Naples, who 
 on finding at some public entertainment a " dama " to theii 
 taste hurry her off, carefully cloaked and hooded, to a mys 
 terious nook known only to themselves, where they can 
 complete the romance of the evening entirely to their own 
 satisfaction. Bidding me a lively buona notte, he sprung on 
 his box again, jerked his horse's head violently round with a 
 volley of oaths, and drove away at a rattling pace. Nina, 
 standing on the road beside me, looked after him with a 
 bewildered air. 
 
 " Could he not have waited to take us back ? " she asked. 
 
 11 No," I answered, brusquely ; " we shall return by a 
 different route. Come." 
 
 And passing my arm round her, J led her onward. She 
 shivered slightly, and there was a sound of querulous com- 
 plaint in her voice as she said : 
 
 " Have we to go much further, Cesare ? " 
 
 " Three minutes, walk will bring us to our destination," I 
 replied, briefly, adding in a softer tone, " Are you cold ? " 
 
 " A little," and she gathered her sables more closely about 
 her and pressed nearer to my side. The capricious moon 
 here suddenly leaped forth like the pale ghost of a frenzied 
 i!?incer, standing tiptoe on the edge of a precipitous chasm 
 of. black clouds. Her rays, pallidly gretn and cold, fell full 
 $n the dreary stretch of land before us, touching up with 
 ■v?,n&ino is distinctness those white mysterious milestones of 
 the Campo Santo which mark where the journeys of men, 
 ft* omen, and children began and where they left off, but 
 aever explain in what new direction they are now traveling. 
 My wife saw and stopped, trembling violently. 
 
 " What place is this ? " she asked, nervously. 
 
 In all her life she had never visited a cemetery — she had 
 too great a horror of death. 
 
 " It is where I keep all my treasures," I answered, and 
 m$ voice sounded strange and harsh in my own ears, while I 
 
rENDETTA t 
 
 3" 
 
 tightened my grasp of her full, warm waist. u Come with 
 me, my beloved ! " and in spite of my efforts, my tone was 
 one of bitter mockery. " With me you need have no fear \ 
 Come ! " 
 
 And I led her on, too powerless to resist my force, too 
 startled to speak — on, on, on, over the rank dewy grass and 
 unmarked ancient graves — on, till the low frowning gate of 
 the house of my dead ancestors faced me — on, on, on, with 
 f hc strength of ten devils in my arm as I held her — on, on, 
 ^n, to her just doom I 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI, 
 
 The moon had retreated behind a dense wall of cloud, and 
 the landscape was enveloped in semi-darkness. Reaching 
 the door of the vault, I unlocked it ; it opened instantly, and 
 fell back with a sudden clang. She whom I held fast with 
 my iron grip shrunk back, and strove to release herself from 
 mv grasp, 
 
 u Where are you going ? " she demanded, in a faint tone, 
 * I— I am afraid 1" 
 
 " Of what ? " I asked, endeavoring to control the passion- 
 ate vibrations of my voice and to speak unconcernedly. 
 u Because it is dark ? We shall have a light directly — you 
 will see — you — you," and to my own surprise I broke into a 
 bud and violent laugh. " You have no cause to be fright- 
 ened ! Come ! " 
 
 And I lifted her swiftly and easily over the stone step of 
 the entrance and set her safely inside. Inside at last, thank 
 Heaven I I shut the great gate upon us both and locked it 1 
 k gain that strange undesired laugh broke from my lips in- 
 voluntarily, and the echoes of the charnel house responded 
 to it with unearthly and ghastly distinctness. Nina clung to 
 ne in the dense gioom. 
 
 {i Why do you laugh like that ? " she cried, loudly and im- 
 patiently. "It sounds horrible." 
 
 I checked myself by a strong effort. 
 
 " Does it ? I am sorry — very sorry 1 I laugh because— 
 because, cara mia, our moonlight ramble is so pleasant — 
 ind amusing — is it not ? " 
 
 And I caught her to my heart and kissed her roughly. 
 
 " Now," I whispered, " I will carry you — the steps are too 
 sough for your little feet — dear, dainty, white little feet I I 
 
322 VENDETTA! ' ~~* " 
 
 will carry you, you armful of sweetness ! — yes, carry you 
 safely down into the fairy grotto where the jewels are — such 
 jewels, and all for you — my love, my wife ! " 
 
 And I raised her from the ground as though she were a 
 young, frail child. Whether she tried to resist me or not I 
 cannot now remember. I bore her down the moldering 
 stairway, setting my foot on each crooked step with the 
 firmness of one long familiar with the place. But my brain 
 reeled — rings of red fire circled in the darkness before my 
 eyes ; every artery in my body seemed strained to bursting ; 
 the pent-up agony and fury of my soul were such that I 
 thought I should go mad or drop down dead ere I gained 
 the end of my long desire. As I descended I felt her clinging 
 to me ; her hands were cold and clammy on my neck, as 
 though she were chilled to the blood with terror. At last I 
 reached the lowest step — I touched the floor of the vault. I 
 set my precious burden down. Releasing my clasp of her, 
 I remained for a moment inactive, breathing heavily. She 
 caught my arm — she spoke in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 " What place is this ? Where is the light you spoke 
 of?" 
 
 I made no answer. I moved from her side, and taking 
 batches from my pocket, I lighted up six large candles which 
 k had fixed in various corners of the vault the night pre- 
 viously. Dazzled by the glare after the intense darkness, she 
 did not at once perceive the nature of the place in which she 
 Hood. I watched her, myself still wrapped in the heavy 
 doak and hat that so effectually disguised my features. 
 What a sight she was in that abode of corruption ! Lovely, 
 delicate, and full of life, with the shine of her diamonds gleam- 
 ing from under the folds of rich fur that shrouded her, and 
 the dark hood falling back as though to display the sparkling 
 wonder of her gold hair. 
 
 Suddenly, and with a violent shock, she realized the gloom 
 5f her surroundings — the yellow flare of the waxen torches 
 showed her the stone niches, the tattered palls, the decaying 
 trophies of armor, the drear shapes of worm-eaten coffins, and 
 with a shriek of horror she rushed to me where I stood, as 
 immovable as a statue clad in coat of mail, and throwing her 
 Arms about me clung to me in a frenzy of fear. 
 
 " Take me away, take me away I " she moaned, hiding her 
 face against my breast. " 'Tis a vault — oh, Santissima Ma- 
 donna ! — a place for the dead ! Quick — quick 1 take me out 
 H> the air — let us go home — home " 
 
VENDETTA t 323 
 
 She broke off abruptly, her alarm increasing at my utter 
 silence. She gazed up at me with wild wet eyes. 
 
 " Cesare ! Cesare ! speak ! What ails you ? Why have 
 you brought me here ? Touch me — kiss me ! say something — . 
 anything — only speak ! " 
 
 And her bosom heaved convulsively; she sobbed with 
 terror. 
 
 I put her from me with a firm hand. I spoke in measured 
 accents, tinged with some contempt. 
 
 " Hush, I pray you ! This is no place for an hysterical 
 scena. Consider where you are ! You have guessed aright 
 — this is a vault — your own mausoleum, fair lady ! — if I mis- 
 take not — the burial-place of the Romani family." 
 
 At these words her sobs ceased, as though they had been 
 frozen in her throat ; she stared at me in speechless fear and 
 wonder. 
 
 " Here," I went on with methodical deliberation, " here lie 
 all the great ancestors of your husband's family, heroes and 
 martyrs in their day. Here will your own fair flesh molder. 
 Here," and my voice grew deeper and more resolute, " here, 
 six months ago, your husband himself, Fabio Romani, was 
 buried." 
 
 She uttered no sound, but gazed at me like some beautiful 
 ^agan goddess turned to stone by the Furies. Having 
 jpoken thus far I was silent, watching the effect of what I 
 *ad said, for I sought to torture the very nerves of her base 
 tfoul. At last her dry lips parted — her voice was hoarse and 
 indistinct. 
 
 " You must be mad 1 " she said, with smothered anger and 
 horror in her tone. 
 
 Then seeing me still immovable, she advanced and caught 
 my hand half commandingly, half coaxingly. I did not re- 
 sist her. 
 
 " Come," she implored, " come away at once ! " and she 
 glanced about her with a shudder. " Let us leave this hor- 
 rible place ; as for the jewels, if you keep them here, they 
 may stay here ; I would not wear them for the world ! 
 Come." 
 
 I interrupted her, holding her hand in a fierce grasp ; I 
 turned her abruptly toward a dark object lying on the ground 
 near us — my own coffin broken asunder. I drew her close 
 to it. 
 
 " Look ! " I said in a thrilling whisper, " what is this ? 
 Examine it well : it is a coffin of flimsiest wood, a cholera 
 
3*4 VENDETTA J 
 
 coffin ! What says this painted inscription ? Nay, do not 
 start ! It bears your husband's name ; he was buried in it. 
 Then how comes it to be open ? Where is he ? " 
 
 I felt her sway under me ; a new and overwhelming terror 
 had taken instant possession of her, her limbs refused to sup= 
 port her, she sunk on her knees. Mechanically and feebly 
 she repeated the words after me — 
 
 " Where is he ? Where is he f " 
 
 " Ay ! " and my voice rang out through the hollow vault 
 Its passion restrained no more. " Where is he ? — the poor 
 fool, the miserable, credulous dupe, whose treacherous wife 
 played the courtesan under his very roof, while he loved and 
 blindly trusted her ? Where is he ? Here, here ! " and I seized 
 her hands and forced her up from her kneeling posture. " I 
 promised you should see me as I am ! I swore to grow young 
 to-night for your sake ! — Now I ksep my word ! Look at me, 
 Nina ! — look at me, my twice-wedded wife ! — Look at me ! — 
 do you not know your husband? " 
 
 And throwing my dark habiliments from me, I stood before 
 her undisguised I As though some defacing disease had 
 swept over her at my words and look, so her beauty suddenly 
 vanished. Her face became drawn and pinched and almost 
 old — her lips turned blue, her eyes grew glazed, and strained 
 themselves from their sockets to stare at me ; her very hands 
 looked thin and ghost-like as she raised them upward with 
 a frantic appealing gesture : there was a sort of gasping 
 rattle in her throat as she drew herself away from me with a 
 convulsive gesture of aversion, and crouched on the floor 
 as though she sought to sink through it and thus avoid my 
 gaze. 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no ! " she moaned, wildly, " not Fabio 1 — no, 
 it cannot be — Fabio is dead — dead ! And you ! — you are 
 mad ! — this is some cruel jest of yours — some trick to frighten 
 ine!" 
 
 She broke off breathlessly, and her large, terrified eyes 
 wandered to mine again with a reluctant and awful wonder. 
 She attempted to arise from her crouching position ; I ap- 
 proached, and assisted her to do so with ceremonious polite- 
 ness. She trembled violently at my touch, and slowly 
 staggering to her feet, she pushed back her hair from her 
 forehead and regarded me fixedly with a searching, anguished 
 look, first of doubt, then of dread, and lastly of convinced 
 and hopeless certainty, for she suddenly covered her eyes 
 with her hands as though to shut out some repulsive object, 
 
 
VENDET1A I 325 
 
 and broke into a low wailing sound like that of one in bittef 
 physical pain. I laughed scornfully. 
 
 " Well, do you know me at last ? " I cried. " Tis true I 
 have somewhat altered. This hair of mine was black, if you 
 remember — it is white enough now, blanched by the horrors 
 of a living death such as you cannot imagine, but which," 
 and I spoke more slowly and impressively, " you may pos- 
 sibly experience ere long. Yet in spite of this change I 
 think you know me ! That is well. I am glad your memory 
 serves you thus far ! " 
 
 A low sound that was half a sob and half a cry broke from 
 her. 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! " she muttered, again, incoherently — " it 
 cannot be ! It must be false — it is some vile plot — it can* 
 not be true ! True ! Oh, Heaven I it would be too cruel, too 
 horrible ! " 
 
 I strode up to her. I drew her hands away from her eyes 
 and grasped them tightly in my own. 
 
 " Hear me I" I said, in clear, decisive tones. " I have 
 kept silence, God knows, with a long patience, but now— 
 now I can speak. Yes ! you thought me dead — you had 
 every reason to think so, you had every proof to believe so. 
 How happy my supposed death made you ! What a reliei 
 it was to you! — what an obstruction removed from youi 
 path ! But — I was buried alive ! " She uttered a faint 
 shriek of terror, and looking wildly about her, strove to 
 wrench her hands from my clasp. I held them more closely. 
 " Ay, think of it, wife of mine ! — you to whom luxury has 
 been second nature, think of this poor body straightened in 
 a helpless swoon, packed and pressed into yonder coffin and 
 nailed up fast, shut out from the blessed light and air, as 
 one would have thought, forever ! Who could have dreamed 
 that life still lingered in me — life still strong enough to split 
 asunder the boards that inclosed me, and leave them 
 shattered, as you see them now ! ■ 
 
 She shuddered and glanced with aversion toward the 
 broken coffin, and again tried to loosen her hands from 
 mine. She looked at me with a burning anger in her face. 
 
 " Let me go I " she panted. " Madman ! liar i — let me 
 go!" 
 
 1 released her instantly and stood erect, regarding bei 
 fixedly. 
 
 " I am no madman," I said, composedly ; u and you know 
 as well as I do that I speak the truth. When I escaped 
 
326 VENDETTA t 
 
 from that coffin I found myself a prisoner in this very vault 
 — this house of my perished ancestry, where, if old legends 
 could be believed, the very bones that are stored up here 
 <vould start and recoil from your presence as pollution to the 
 dead, whose creed was honor?* 
 
 The sound of her sobbing breath ceased suddenly ; she 
 fixed her eyes on mine ; they glittered defiantly. 
 
 u For one long awful night," I resumed, " I suffered here. 
 I .night have starved — or perished of thirst. I thought no 
 agony could surpass what I endured ! But I was mistaken : 
 there was a sharper torment in store for me. I discovered 
 a way of escape ; with grateful tears I thanked God for my 
 rescue, for liberty, for life ! Oh, what a fool was I ! How 
 could I dream that my death was so desired ! — how could I 
 know that I had better far have died than have returned to 
 such a home ! " 
 
 Her lips moved, but she uttered no word ; she shivered 
 as though with intense cold. I drew nearer to her. 
 
 " Perhaps you doubt my story ? " 
 
 She made no answer, A rapid impulse of fury possessed 
 me. 
 
 " Speak ! " I cried, fiercely, " or by the God above us I will 
 make you ! Speak ! " and I drew the dagger I carried from 
 my vest* " Speak the truth for once — 'twill be difficult to 
 you who love lies — but this time I must be answered ! Tell 
 me, do you know me ? Do you or do you not believe that I 
 am indeed your husband — your living husband, Fabio 
 Romani ? " 
 
 She gasped for breath. The sight of my infuriated figure 
 — the glitter of the naked steel before her eyes — the sudden- 
 ness of my action, the horror of her position, all terrified het 
 into speech. She flung herself down before me in an attitude 
 of abject entreaty. She found her voice at last 
 
 u Mercy ! mercy ! ,r she cried. M Oh, God I you will not 
 idll me ? Anything — anything but death ; I am too young to 
 die ! Yes, yes ; I know you are Fabio — Fabio, my husband* 
 Fabio, whom I thought dead — Fabio — oh ! " and she sobbed 
 convulsively. " You said you loved me to-day — when you 
 married me ! Why did you marry me ? I was your wife 
 already — why — why ? Oh, horrible, horrible ! I see— I 
 understand it all now 1 But do not, do not kill me, Fabio— I 
 am afraid to die 1 " 
 
 And she hid her face at my feet and groveled there. Aa 
 quickly calmed as I had been suddenly furious, I pot " 
 
'!:e dagger, I smoothed my voice and spoke with mocking 
 courtesy. 
 
 " Pray do not alarm yourself," I said, coolly. " I have 
 not the slightest intention of killing you ! I am no vulgar 
 murderer, yielding to mere brute instincts. You forget : a 
 Neapolitan has hot passions, but he also h&sjinesse, especially 
 in matters of vengeance, I brought you here to tell you oi 
 my existence, and to confront you with the proofs of it 
 Rise, I beg of you, we have plenty of time to talk ; with a 
 little patience I shall make things clear to you — rise ! " 
 
 She obeyed me, lifting herself up reluctantly with a long, 
 shuddering sigh. As she stood upright I laughed contemptu 
 ously. 
 
 M What ! no love words for me?" I cried, H not one kiss, 
 not one smile, not one word of welcome ? You say you know 
 me — well ! — are you not glad to see your husband ?-— you, who 
 were such an inconsolable widow ? " 
 
 A strange quiver passed over her face — she wrung hei 
 hands together hard, but she said no word 
 
 ** Listen ! " I said, " there is more to tell When I broke 
 loose from the grasp of death, when I came home — I found my 
 vacant post already occupied. I arrived in time to witness a 
 very pretty pastoral play. The scene was the ilex avenue— 
 the actors, you, my wife, and Guido, my friend ! " 
 
 She raised her head and uttered a low exclamation of fear, 
 I advanced a step or two and spoke more rapidly. 
 
 "You hear ? There was moonlight, and the song of night- 
 ingales — yes ; the stage effects were perfect I / watched the 
 progress of the comedy — with what emotions you may im- 
 agine. I learned much that was news to me. I became 
 aware that for a lady of your large heart and sensitive feelings 
 one husband was not sufficient " — here I laid my hand on het 
 shoulder and gazed into her face, while her eyes, dilated with 
 terror, stared hopelessly up to mine — " and that within three 
 tittle months of your marriage to me you provided yourself 
 with another. Nay, no denial can serve you ! Guido Ferrari 
 was husband to you in all things but the name. I mastered 
 the situation — I rose to the emergency. Trick for trickj 
 comedy for comedy! You know the rest As the Count 
 OHva you can not deny that I acted well ! For the second 
 time I courted you, but not half so eagerly as you courted 
 met For the second time I have married you ! Who shall 
 deny that you are most thoroughly mane — mine, body and 
 msL till death do m part !" 
 
328 VEtfDETTA ! 
 
 And I loosened my grasp of her : she writhed from me like 
 some glittering wounded serpent. The tears had dried on her 
 cheeks, her features were rigid and wax-like as the features 
 of a corpse ; only her dark eyes shone, and chese seemed pre- 
 ternaturally large, and gleamed with an evil luster. I moved 
 a little away, and turning my own coffin on its side, I sat down 
 upon it as indifferently as though it were an easy-chair in a 
 drawing-room. Glancing at her then, I saw a wavering light 
 upon her face. Some idea had entered into her mind. She 
 moved gradually from the wall where she leaned, watching 
 me fearfully as she did so. I made no attempt to stir from 
 the seat I occupied. 
 
 Slowly, slowly, still keeping her eyes on me, she glided step 
 by step onward and passed me — then with a sudden rush she 
 reached the stairway and bounded up it with the startled 
 haste of a hunted deer. I smiled to myself. I heard her 
 shaking the iron gateway to and fro with all her feeble 
 strength ; she called aloud for help several times. Only the 
 sullen echoes of the vault answered her, and the wild whistle 
 of the wind as it surged through the trees of the cemetery. 
 At last she screamed furiously, as a savage cat might scream 
 — the rustle of her silken robes came swiftly sweeping down 
 the steps, and with a spring like that of a young tigress she 
 confronted me, the blood now burning wrathfully in her face, 
 and transforming it back to something of its old beauty. 
 
 " Unlock that door ! " she cried, with a furious stamp of 
 her foot. " Assassin ! traitor ! I hate you ! I always hated 
 you ! Unlock the door, I tell you ! You dare not disobey 
 me ; you have no right to murder me ! " 
 
 I looked at her coldly ; the torrent of her words was sud- 
 denly checked, something in my expression daunted her: 
 she trembled and shrunk back. 
 
 " No right ! " I said, mockingly. " I differ from you ! A. 
 man once married has some right over his wife, but a man 
 :wice married to the same woman has surely gained a double 
 authority ! And as for ' dare not I ' there is nothing I l dare 
 not ' do to-night." 
 
 And with that I rose and approached her. A torrent of 
 passionate indignation boiled in my veins ; I seized her two 
 white arms and held her fast. 
 
 " You talk of murder ! " I muttered, fiercely. " You — you 
 who have remorselessly murdered two men ! Their blood be 
 on your head 1 For though I live, I am but the moving corpse 
 of the man I was — hope, faith, happiness, peace — all things 
 
VENDETTA! 329 
 
 good and great in me have been slain by you. And as tor 
 Guido- " 
 
 She interrupted me with a wild sobbing cry. 
 
 " He loved me 1 Guido loved me ! " 
 
 " Ay, he loved you, oh, devil in the shape of a woman ! he 
 loved you ! Come here, here ! " and in a fury I could not 
 restrain I dragged her, almost lifted her along to one corner 
 of the vault, where the light of the torches scarcely illumined 
 the darkness, and there I pointed upward. " Above oui 
 very heads — to the left of where we stand — the brave strong 
 body of your lover lies, festering slowly in the wet mould, 
 thanks to you 1 — the fair, gallant beauty of it all marred by 
 tho red-mouthed worms — the thick curls of hair combed 
 through by the crawling feet of vile insects — the poor frail 
 heart pierced by a gaping wound " 
 
 " You killed him ; you — you are to blame," she moaned, 
 restlessly, striving to turn her face away from me. 
 
 "/killed him? No, no, not I, but you/ He died when 
 he learned your treachery — when he knew you were false to 
 him for the sake of wedding a supposed wealthy stranger — 
 my pistol-shot but put him out of torment. You ! you were 
 glad of his death — as glad as when you thought of mine I 
 You talk of murder ! Oh, vilest among women I if I could 
 murder you twenty times over, what then ? Your sins out- 
 weigh all punishment ! " 
 
 And I flung her from me with a gesture of contempt and 
 loathing. This time my words had struck home. She cow- 
 ered before me in horror — her sables were loosened and 
 scarcely protected her, the richness of her ball costume was 
 fully displayed, and the diamonds on her bosom heaved 
 restlessly up and down as she panted with excitement, rage 
 and fear. 
 
 " I do not see," she muttered, sullenly, " why you should 
 olame me / I am no worse than other women 1 " 
 
 " No worse ! no worse ! " I cried. " Shame, shame upon 
 you that thus outrage your sex ! Learn for once what men 
 think of unfaithful wives — for may be you are ignorant. The 
 novels you have read in your luxurious, idle hours have per- 
 haps told you that infidelity is no sin — merely a little social 
 error easily condoned, or set right by the divorce court. 
 Yes ! modern books and modern plays teach you so : in them 
 the world swerves upside down, and vice looks like virtue. 
 But /will tell you what may seem to you a straage and won- 
 derful thing 1 There is no mean animal, no loathsome object, 
 
330 VENDETTA! 
 
 no horrible deformity of nature so utterly repulsive to a true 
 man as a faithless wife ! The cowardly murderer who lies in 
 wait for his victim behind some dark door, and stabs him in 
 the back as he passes by unarmed — he, I say, is more to be 
 pardoned than the woman who takes a husband's name, 
 honor, position, and reputation among his fellows, and shel- 
 tering herself with these, passes her beauty promiscuously 
 about like some coarse article of commerce, that goes to the 
 highest bidder ! Ay, let your French novels and books of 
 their type say what they will — infidelity is a crime, a low, 
 brutal crime, as bad if not worse than murder, and deserves 
 as stern a sentence ! " 
 
 A sudden spirit of defiant insolence possessed her. She 
 drew herself erect, and her level brows knitted in a dark frown. 
 
 " Sentence 1 " she exclaimed, imperiously. " How dare 
 you judge me ! What harm have I done ? If I am beauti- 
 ful, is that my fault? If men are fools, can /help it ? You 
 loved me — Guido loved me — could / prevent it ? I cared 
 nothing for him, and less for you ! " 
 
 " I know it," I said, bitterly. " Love was never part of 
 your nature ! Our lives were but cups of wine for your false 
 lips to drain ; once the flavor pleased you, but now — now, 
 think you not the dregs taste somewhat cold ? " 
 
 She shrunk at my glance — her head drooped, and drawing 
 near a projecting stone in the wall, she sat down upon it, 
 pressing one hand to her heart. 
 
 " No heart, no conscience, no memory I " I cried. " Great 
 Heaven ! that such a thing should live and call itself woman 1 
 The lowest beast of the field has more compassion for its 
 kind ! Listen : before Guido died he knew me, even as my 
 child, neglected by you, in her last agony knew her father. 
 She being innocent, passed in peace ; but he ! — imagine if 
 you can, the wrenching torture in which he perished, knowing 
 3.11 ! How his parted spirit must curse you ! " 
 
 She raised her hands to her head and pushed away the light 
 curls from her brow. There was a starving, hunted, almost 
 furious look in her eyes, but she fixed them steadily on me. 
 
 " See," I went on — " here are more proofs of the truth of 
 my story. These things were buried with me," and I threw 
 into her lap as she sat before me the locket and chain, the 
 card-case and purse she herself had given me. " You will no 
 doubt recognize them. This " — and I showed her the monk's 
 crucifix — " this was laid on my breast in the coffin. It may 
 be useful to you — you can pray to it presently 1 
 
She interrupted me with a gesture of her hand ; the spoke 
 is though in a dream. 
 
 " You escaped from this vault ? " she said, in a low tone, 
 looking from right to left with searching eagerness. " Tel3 
 me how — and — where ? " 
 
 I laughed scornfully, guessing her thoughts. 
 
 " It matters little," I replied. " The passage I discovered 
 Is now closed and fast cemented. I have seen to that my- 
 self ! No other living creature left here can escape as I did 
 Escape is impossible," 
 
 A s* Med cry broke from her ; she threw herself at my f eet* 
 letting the things I had given her as proofs of my existence 
 fall heedlessly on the floor* 
 
 " Fabio I Fabio 1 " she cried, " save me, pity me \ Take 
 me out to the light — the air — let me live I Drag me through 
 Naples — let all the crowd see me dishonored, brand me with 
 the worst of names, make of me a common outcast— only let 
 me feel the warm life throbbing in my veins 1 I will do any- 
 thing, say anything, be anything — only let me live ! I loath 
 the cold and darkness — the horrible — horrible ways of 
 death ! " She shuddered violently and clung to me afresh, 
 u I am so young I and after all, am I so vile ? There are 
 women who count their lovers by the score, and yet they are 
 not blamed ; why should I suffer more than they ? " 
 
 " Why, why ? " I echoed, fiercely. " Because for once a 
 husband takes the law into his own hands— for once a wronged 
 man insists on justice — for once he dares to punish the treach- 
 ery that blackens his honor ! Were there more like me there 
 would be fewer like you 1 A score of lovers ! J Tis not your 
 fault that you had but one ! I have something else to say 
 which concerns you. Not content with fooling two men, you 
 tried the same amusemenc on a supposed third. Ay, you 
 wince at that I While you thought me to be the Count Oliva 
 —while you were betrothed to me In that character, you wrots 
 to Guido Ferrari in Rome. Very charming letters ! here they 
 are," and I flung them down to her. " I have no further use 
 for them — I have read them all I " 
 
 She let them lie where they fell ; she still crouched at my 
 feet, and her restless movements loosened her cloak so fat 
 that it hung back from her shoulders, showing the jewels that 
 flashed on her white neck and arms like points of living light, 
 I touched the circlet of diamonds in her hair — I snatched it 
 "somber. 
 
 are mim I ? I m&*- * »* «*s^fe as this signet g 
 
4p Y&*mMTTAl 
 
 #eai, which was your love-gift to Guido Ferrari, and whida 
 you afterward returned to me, its rightful owner, These are 
 aay mother's gems — how dared you wear them ? The stones 
 7 gave you are your only fitting ornaments — they are stolen 
 goods, filched by the blood-stained hands of the blackest 
 brigand in Sicily ! I promised you more like them ; behold 
 them ! "- — and I threw open the coffin-shaped chest contain- 
 ng the remainder of Carmelo Neri's spoils. It occupied a 
 conspicuous position near where I stood, and I had myself 
 arranged its interior so that the gold ornaments and precious 
 stones should be the first things to meet her eyes. " You see 
 aow," I went on, " where the wealth of the supposed Count 
 Oliva came from. I found this treasure hidden here on the 
 night of my burial — little did I think then what dire need I 
 should have for its usage ! It has served me well ; it is not 
 yet exhausted ; the remainder is at your service \ " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 At these words she rose from her knees and stood upright. 
 Making an effort to fasten her cloak with her trembling hands, 
 she moved hesitatingly toward the brigand's coffin and leaned 
 over it, looking in with a faint light of hope as well as curiosity 
 in her haggard face, I watched her in vague wonderment — 
 she had grown old so suddenly. The peach-like bloom and 
 delicacy of her flesh had altogether disappeared — her skin 
 appeared drawn and dry as though parched in tropical heat 
 Her hair was disordered, and fell about her in clustering 
 showers of gold — that, and her eyes, were the only signs of 
 youth about her. A sudden wave of compassion swept over 
 ny soul. 
 
 H Oh wife 1 " I exclaimed — " wife that I so ardently loved 
 -wife that I would have died for indeed, had you bade 
 ne I —why did you betray me ? I thought you truth itself — 
 ay ! and if you had but waited for one day after you thought 
 me dead, and then chosen Guido for your lover, I tell you, 
 so large was my tenderness, I would have pardoned you I 
 Though risen from the grave, I would have gone away and 
 made no sign — yes ; if you had waited — if you had wept fot 
 me ever so little 1 But when your own lips confessed youi 
 crime— when I knew that within three months of our mar 
 *sage*day you had tooled me— waen £ learned thai my lov^ 
 
VENDBTTAl 333 
 
 joy name, ray position, my honor, were used as mere screens 
 
 to shelter your intrigue with the man I called friend 1 — God 1 
 what creature of mortal flesh and blood could forgive such 
 treachery ? I am no more than others — but I loved you — 
 and in proportion to my love, so is the greatness of my 
 nrrongs 1 " 
 
 She listened— she advanced a little toward me — a faint 
 •mile dawned on her pallid lips — she whispered : 
 
 "Fabio! Fabio I" 
 
 I looked at her — unconsciously my voice dropped into a 
 cadence of intense melancholy softened by tenderness. 
 
 " Ay — Fabio ! What wouldst thou with a ghost of him ? 
 Does it not seem strange to thee — that hated name ? — thou, 
 Nina, whom I loved as few men love women — thou whogavest 
 me no love at all — thou, who hast broken my heart and 
 made me what I am I " 
 
 A hard, heavy sob rose in my throat and choked my utter- 
 ance. I was young ; and the cruel waste and destruction of 
 my life seemed at that moment more than I could bear, 
 She heard me, and the smile brightened more warmly on 
 her countenance, She came close to me — half timidly yet 
 coaxingly she threw one arm about my neck — her bosom 
 heaved quickly. 
 
 u Fabio," she murmured — " Fabio, forgive me t I spoke 
 in haste — I do not hate thee 1 Come I I will make amends 
 for all thy suffering — I will love thee — I will be true to thee, 
 I will be all thine ! See I thou knowest I have not lost my 
 beauty I " 
 
 And she clung to me with passion, raising her lips to mine, 
 while with her large inquiring eyes she searched my face for 
 the reply to her words. I gazed down upon her with sorrow 
 \il sternness. 
 
 w Beauty? Mere food for worms — I care not for it t Of 
 /hat avail is a fair body tenanted by a fiendish soul ? For- 
 giveness ? — you ask too late ! A wrong like mine can never 
 be forgiven." 
 
 There ensued a silence. She still embraced me, but hex 
 eyes roved over me as though she searched for some lost 
 thing. The wind tore furiously among the branches of the 
 cypresses outside, and screamed through the small holes and 
 crannies of the stone-work, rattling the iron gate at the sum- 
 mit of the stairway with a clanking sound, as though the 
 famous brigand chief had escaped with all his chains upon 
 $03% and were clamoring for admittance to v ecovsr his buried 
 
|34 VBN&RT7A I 
 
 property. Suddenly her face lightened with an expression 
 
 ot cunning intensity — and before I could preceive her intent 
 ■— with swift agility she snatched from my vest the dagger I 
 carried! 
 
 44 Too iate 1 ' she cried, with a wild laugh. u No ; not too 
 .ate ! Die— wretch \ * 
 
 For one second the bright steel flashed in the wavering 
 jght as she poised it in act to strike — the next, I had caugh? 
 aer murdereos hand and forced it down, and was struggling 
 ivith her for the mastery of the weapon. She held it with ft 
 desperate grip — she fought with me breathlessly, clinging to me 
 with all her force — she reminded me of that ravenous unclear? 
 bird with which I had had so fierce a combat on the night of 
 my living burial. For some brief moments she was possessed 
 of supernatural strength — she sprung and tore at my clothes, 
 keeping the poniard fast in her clutch. At last I thrust her 
 down, panting and exhausted, with fury flashing in her eyes 
 — I wrenched the steel from her hand and brandished it above 
 her. 
 
 " Who talks of murder now t " I cried, in bitter derision. 
 " Oh. what a joy you have lost ! What triumph for you, 
 could you have stabbed me to the heart and left me nere 
 dead indeed ! What a new career of lies would have been 
 yours ! How sweetly you would have said your prayers with 
 the stain of my blood upon your soul ! Ay 1 you would have 
 tooled the world to the end, and died in the odor of sanctity 
 And you dared to ask my forgiveness — — * 
 
 I stopped short — a strange, bewildered expression suddenly 
 passed over her face — she looked about her in a dazed, vague 
 way — then her gaze became suddenly fixed, and she pointed 
 toward a dark corner and shuddered. 
 
 " Hush — hush ! rt she said, in a low, terrified whispei 
 * Look ! how still he stands 1 how pale he seems I Do not 
 speak— dc not move — hush I ne must not hear your voice— 
 I will go to him and tell him all — all—-—* She rose and 
 itretched out her arms with a gesture of entreaty . 
 
 " Guido I Guido !'• 
 
 With a sudden chilled awt at m j heart I looked toward 
 che spot that thus riveted her attention — all was shrouded in 
 deep gloom. She caught my arm. 
 
 " Kill him I " she whispered, fiercely — " kill him, and 
 then I will love you ! Ah I ' and with an exclamation oK 
 tear she began to retire swiftly backward as though confront 
 *d by aoJu& ftattteniiig figure* M He in oowwng w mm i 
 
VBL*mB7TA t gg 
 
 Wo, no, Guido ! You shall not touch me— you dare not—' 
 
 Fabio is dead and I am free — free ! " She paused — her wild 
 eyes gazed upward — did she see some horror there ? She 
 put up both hands as though to shield herself from some im- 
 pending blow, and uttering a loud cry she fell prone on the 
 stone floor insensible. Or dead ? I balanced this question 
 Indifferently, as I looked down upon her inanimate form. 
 The flavor of vengeance was hot in my mouth, and filled me 
 jtrith delirious satisfaction. True, I had been glad, when my 
 bullet whizzing sharply through the air had carried death to 
 Guido, but my gladness had been mingled with ruthfulness 
 and regret. Now, not one throb of pity stirred me — not the 
 faintest emotion of tenderness. Ferrari's sin was great but 
 she tempted him — her crime outweighed his. And now — 
 there she lay white and silent — in a swoon that was like 
 death — that might be death for aught I knew — or cared! 
 Had her lover's ghost indeed appeared before the eyes of 
 her guilty conscience ? I did not doubt it — I should scarcely 
 have been startled had I seen the poor pale shadow of him 
 by my side, as I musingly gazed upon the fair fallen body 
 of the traitress who had wantonly wrecked both our lives. 
 
 * Ay, Guido," I muttered, half aloud — " dost see the 
 work ? Thou art avenged, frail spirit — avenged as well as I 
 — part thou in peace from earth and its inhabitants ! — haply 
 thou shalt cleanse in pure fire the sins ot thy lower nature, 
 and win a final pardon ; but for her — is hell itself black 
 enough to match her soul ? " 
 
 And I slowly moved toward the stairway ; it was time, I 
 thought, with a grim resolve — to leave her / Possibly she was 
 dead — if not — why then she soon would be ! I paused ir- 
 resolute — the wild wind battered ceaselessly at the iron gate- 
 way, and wailed as though with a hundred voices of aerial 
 creatures, lamenting. The torches were burning low, the 
 darkness of the vault deepened. Its gloom concerned me 
 Uttle — I had grown familiar with its unsightly things its 
 crawling spiders, its strange uncouth beetles, the clusters of 
 blue fungi on its damp walls. The scurrying noises made 
 by bats and owls, who, scared by the lighted candles, were 
 hiding themselves in holes and corners of refuge, startled 
 me not at all — I was well accustomed to such sounds. In 
 my then state of mind, an emperor's palace were less fair to 
 me than this brave charnel house — this stone-mouthed wit 
 of my struggle back to life and all life's misery. The 
 bell outside the cemetery strut* Omt / Wt had 
 
£jfc VENDETTA i 
 
 been absent nearly two hours from the brilliant assemblage 
 left at the hotel No doubt we were being searched foi 
 everywhere — it mattered not I they would not come to seek 
 OS here. I went on resolutely toward the stair — as I placed 
 my foot on the firm step of the ascent, my wife stirred from 
 her recumbent position — her swoon had passed. She did not 
 perceive me where I stood, ready to depart — she murmured 
 something to herself in a low voice, and taking in her hand 
 £he falling tresses of her own hair she seemed to admire it* 
 color and texture, for she stroked it and restroked it and 
 finally broke into a gay laugh — a laugh so out of all keeping 
 with her surroundings, that it startled me more than her at 
 tempt to murder me. 
 
 She presently stood up with all her own lily-like grace 
 and fairy majesty ; and smiling as though she were a pleased 
 child, she began to arrange her disordered dress with elab- 
 orate care. I paused wonderingly and watched her. She 
 went to the brigand's chest of treasure and proceeded to ex- 
 amine its contents — laces, silver and gold embroideries, an- 
 tique ornaments, she took carefully in her hands, seeming 
 mentally to calculate their cost and value. Jewels that were 
 set as necklaces, bracelets and other trinkets of feminine 
 wear she put on, one after the other, till her neck and arms 
 were loaded — and literally blazed with the myriad scintilla- 
 tions of different-colored gems. I marveled at her strange 
 conduct, but did not as yet guess its meaning. I moved 
 away from the staircase and drew imperceptibly nearer to 
 her — Hark 1 what was that ? A strange, lew rumbling like 
 a distant earthquake, followed by a sharp cracking sound ; 
 I stopped to listen attentively. A furious gust of wind 
 rushed round the mausoleum shrieking wildly like some 
 devil in anger, and the strong draught flying through the 
 gateway extinguished two of the flaring candles. My wife, 
 entirely absorbed in counting over Carmelo Neri's treasures, 
 apparently saw and heard nothing. Suddenly she broke into 
 another laugh — a chuckling, mirthless laugh such as might 
 come from the lips of the aged and senile. The sound 
 curdled the blood in my veins — it was the laugh of a mad- 
 woman I With an earnest, distinct voice I called to her : 
 
 "Nina! Nina!" 
 
 She turned toward me still smiling— her eyes were bright, 
 her face had regained its habitual color, and as she stood ii 
 the dim light, with her rich tresses falling about her, and the 
 (mastering gems massed together <a % glittering fir* agai&a* 
 
her white skin, she looked unnaturally, wildly beautiful 
 She nodded to me, half graciously, half haughtily, but gavi 
 me no answer. Moved with quick pity I called again : 
 
 "Nina!" 
 
 She laughed again — the same terrible laugh. 
 
 ".SI, si/ Son* bel/a, son* bellissima /" she murmured 
 •' E tu, Guido mio 1 Tu iriami 9 ** 
 
 Then raising one hand as though commanding attention 
 ffifce cried : 
 
 M Ascolta /" and began to sing clearly though feebly 
 
 m Ti salute, Rosignuolo I 
 Nel tuo duolo — ti saluto ,' 
 Set Vamante della rasa 
 £&f morendo s&M sposa t% * 
 
 As the old familiar melody echoed through the drear} 
 
 vault, my bitter wrath against her partially lessened ; with 
 the swiftness of my southern temperament a certain compas- 
 sion stirred my soul. She was no longer quite the same 
 woman who had wronged and betrayed me — she had the 
 helplessness and fearful innocence of madness — in that con- 
 dition I could not have hurt a hair of her head. I stepped 
 hastily forward — I resolved to take her out of the vault- 
 after all I would not leave her thus — but as I approached, 
 she withdrew from me, and with an angry stamp of her foot 
 motioned me backward, while a dark frown knitted her fair 
 brows. 
 
 " Who are you ? " she cried, imperiously. " You are dead, 
 quite dead ! How dare you come out of your grave ! " 
 
 And she stared at me defiantly — then suddenly clasping 
 her hands as though in ecstasy, and seeming to address some 
 invisible being at her side, she said, in low, delighted tones . 
 
 u He is dead, Guido ! Are you not glad ? " She paused, 
 apparently expecting some reply, for she looked about het 
 
 wonderingly, and continued "You did not answer me— 
 
 are you afraid ? Why are you so pale and stern ? Have 
 you just come back from Rome ? What have you heard 1 
 
 That I am false ?•— oh, no ! I will love you still Ah I J 
 
 forgot ! you also are dead, Guido ! I remember now — yo* 
 cannot hurt me any more — I am free — and quite happy I " 
 
 Smiling, she continued her song : 
 
 • Ti saluto^ Sol di Maggio 
 Col two raggio ti saluto I 
 Sei V Apollo del paisatc 
 JSti P omore incormat* * * 
 
$$fc V&NDBTTAl 
 
 Again — again 1 —that hollow rumbling and crackling sound 
 overhead. What could it be ? 
 
 " Eavtore incoronato /" hummed Nina fitfully, as she 
 plunged her round, jeweled arm down again into the chest 
 of treasure. " S), si / Che morendo si fa sposa—^te moretido 
 iifa sposa — ah ! " 
 
 This last was an exclamation of pleasure ; she had found 
 3ome toy that charmed her — it was the old mirror set in its 
 frame of pearls. The possession of this object seemed to fiU 
 iter with extraordinary joy, and she evidently retained no con 
 sciousness of where she was, for she sat down on the up- 
 turned coffin, which had held my living body, with absolute 
 indifference. Still singing softly to herself, she gazed lov- 
 ingly at her own reflection, and fingered the jewels she wore 
 arranging and rearranging them in various patterns with one 
 hand, while in the other she raised the looking-glass in the 
 flare of the candles which lighted up its quaint setting. A 
 strange and awful picture she made there — gazing with such 
 lingering tenderness on the portrait of her own beauty- 
 while surrounded by the moldering coffins that silently an- 
 nounced how little such beauty was worth — playing with 
 jewels, the foolish trinkets of life, in the abode of skeletons, 
 where the password is death ! Thinking thus, I gazed at 
 her, as one might gaze at a dead body — not loathingly any 
 more, but only mournfully. My vengeance was satiated. 
 I could not wage war against this vacantly smiling mad 
 creature, out of whom the spirit of a devilish intelligence 
 and cunning had been torn, and who therefore was no longei 
 the same woman. Her loss of wit should compensate foi 
 my loss of love. I determined to try and attract her atten- 
 tion again. I opened my lips to speak — but before the 
 words could form themselves, that odd rumbling noise again 
 broke on my ears — this time with a loud reverberation that 
 rolled overhead like the thunder of artillery. Before I could 
 imagine the reason of it — before I could advance one step 
 toward my wife, who still sat on the upturned coffin, smiling 
 at herself in the mirror — before I could utter a word or move 
 an inch, a tremendous crash resounded through the vault, 
 followed by a stinging shower of stones, dust, and pulverized 
 mortar ! I stepped backward amazed, bewildered — speech- 
 less — instinctively shutting my eyes — when I opened them 
 again all was darkness — all was silence ! Only the wind 
 howled outside more frantically than ever — a sweeping gust 
 whirled through the vault, blowing some dead leaves against 
 
VENDETTA I jg* 
 
 my face, and I heard the boughs of trees creaking noisily in 
 
 the fury of the storm. Hush ! — was that a faint moan ? Quiv- 
 ering in every limb, and sick with a nameless dread, I sought 
 in my pocket for matches — I found them. Then with an 
 effort, mastering the shuddering revulsion of my nerves, I 
 struck a light. The flame was so dim that foi an instant ! 
 could see nothing. I called loudly : 
 
 " Nina ! " There was no answer. 
 
 One of the extinguished candles was near me ; I lighte* 
 it with trembling hands and held it aloft—then I uttered a 
 wild shriek of horror ! Oh, God of inexorable justice, surely 
 Thy vengeance was greater than mine ! An enormous block 
 of stone, dislodged by the violence of the storm, had fallen 
 from the roof of the vault ; fallen sheer down over the very 
 place where she had sat a minute or two before, fantastically 
 smiling ! Crushed under the huge mass — crushed into the 
 very splinters of my own empty coffin, she lay — and yet— 
 and yet — I could see nothing, save one white hand protrud- 
 ing — the hand on which the marriage-ring glittered mock- 
 ingly ! Even as I looked, that hand quivered violently — beat 
 the ground — and then — was still ! It was horrible. In 
 dreams I see that quivering white hand now, the jewels on 
 it sparkling with derisive luster. It appeals, it calls, it threat- 
 ens, it prays ! and when my time comes to die, it will beckon 
 me to my grave ! A portion of her costly dress was visible — 
 my eyes lighted on this — and I saw a slow stream of blood 
 oozing thickly from beneath the stone — the ponderous stone 
 that no man could have moved an inch — the stone that sealed 
 her awful sepulcher ! Great Heaven ! how fast the crimson 
 stream of life trickled ! — staining the snowy lace of her gar- 
 ment with a dark and dreadful hue I Staggering feebly like 
 a drunken man — half delirious with anguish — I approached 
 and touched that small white hand that lay stiffly on the 
 ground — I bent my head — I almost kissed it, but som-r 
 strange revulsion rose in my soul and forbade the act ! 
 
 In a stupor of dull agony I sought and found the crucifii 
 of the monk Cipriano that had fallen to the floor — I closed 
 the yet warm finger-tips around it and left it thus ; an un- 
 natural, terrible calmness froze the excitement of my strained 
 nerves. 
 
 ** 'Tis all I can do for thee I " I muttered, incoherently. 
 u May Christ forgive thee, though I cannot ! " 
 
 And covering my eyes to shut out the sight before me I 
 turned away. I hurried in a sort of frenxy toward the stair 
 
346 VBAnETT* t 
 
 way — oe reaching the lowest step I extinguished the torch 1 
 carried. Some impulse made me glance back — and I saw 
 what I see now — what I shall always see till I die ! An aper- 
 ture had been made through the roof of the vault by the fall 
 of the great stone, and through this the fitful moon poured 
 down a long ghostly ray. The green glimmer, like a spectral 
 lamp, deepened the surrounding darkness, only showing up 
 vith fell distinctness one object — that slender protruding 
 vrist and hand, whiter than Alpine snow ! 1 gazed at l! 
 wildly — the gleam of the jewels down there hurt my eyes- 
 the shine of the silver crucifix clasped in those little waxen 
 lingers dazzled my brain — and with a frantic cry of unreason 
 ing terror, I rushed up the steps with a maniac speed- 
 opened the iron gate through which she would pass no more, 
 and stood at liberty in the free air, face to face with a wind 
 as tempestuous as my own passions. With what furious 
 haste I shut the entrance to the vault ! with what fierce pre 
 caution I locked and doubled-locked it ! Nay, so little did 
 I realize that she was actually dead, that I caught myself 
 saying aloud — " Safe — safe at last ! She cannot escape — I 
 have closed the secret passage — no one will hear her cries — 
 she will struggle a little, but it will soon be over — she will 
 never laugh any more — never kiss — never love — never tell 
 lie» for the fooling of men ! — she is buried as I was — buried 
 alive I " 
 
 Muttering thus to myself with a sort of sobbing incoher- 
 ence, I turned to meet the snarl of the savage blast of the 
 night, with my brain reeling, my limbs weak and trembling 
 — with the heavens and earth rocking before me like a wild 
 sea — with the flying moon staring aghast through the driv- 
 ing clouds — with all the universe, as it were, in a broken and 
 shapeless chaos about me ; even so I went forth to meet my 
 tate — and left hei I 
 
 ******* 
 
 Unrecognized, untracked, 1 ikpartedfrom Naples. Wrapped 
 i my cioak, and stretched in a sort of heavy stupor on the 
 deck of the " Rondinella," my appearance apparently ex- 
 cited no suspicion in the mind of the skipper, old Antonio 
 Bardi, with whom my friend Andrea had made terms for my 
 voyage, little aware of the real identity of the passenger ha 
 recommended., 
 
 The morning was radiantly beautiful — the sparkling wave* 
 cose high on tiptoe to kiss the still boisterous wind — the sun* 
 **ght israfe* m ?* md* mdh -of springtide glore over *fef 
 
V&N&R17A t 34I 
 
 irorld ! With the burden of my agony upon me — with the 
 utter exhaustion of my overwrought nerves, I beheld all 
 things as in a feverish dream — the laughing light, the azure 
 ripple of waters — the receding line of my native shores— 
 everything was blurred, indistinct, and unreal to me, though 
 my soul, Argus-eyed, incessantly peered down, down into 
 vhose darksome depths where she lay, silent forever. For 
 now I knew she was dead. Fate had killed her — not I. All 
 inrepentant as she was, triumphing in her treachery to the 
 ast, even in her madness, still I would have saved her, though 
 *he strove to murder me. 
 
 Yet it was well the stone had fallen — who knows! — if she 
 had lived — I strove not to think of her, and drawing the key 
 of the vault from my pocket, I let it drop with a sudden 
 splash into the waves. All was over — no one pursued me— 
 no one inquired whither I went I arrived at Civita Vecchia 
 unquestioned ; from thence I travelled to Leghorn, where I 
 embarked on board a merchant trading vessel bound for 
 South America. Thus I lost myself to the world ; thus 1 be- 
 came, as it were, buried alive for the second time. I am 
 safely sepulchered in these wild woods, and I seek no escape. 
 
 Wearing the guise of a rough settler, one who works in com- 
 mon with others, hewing down tough parasites and poisonous 
 undergrowths in order to effect a clearing through these path- 
 less solitudes, none can trace in the strong stern man, with 
 the care-worn face and white hair, any resemblance to the 
 once popular and wealthy Count Oliva, whose disappearance, 
 so strange and sudden, was for a time the talk of all Italy. 
 For, on one occasion when visiting the nearest town, I saw 
 an article in a newspaper, headed " Mysterious Occurrence in 
 Naples," and I read every word of it with a sensation of dull 
 amusement. 
 
 From it I learned that the Count Oliva was advertised foi. 
 His abrupt departure, together with that of his newly married 
 jrife, formerly Contessa Romani, on the very night of their 
 wedding, had created the utmost excitement in the city. 
 The landlord of the hotel where he stayed was prosecuting 
 inquiries — so was the count's former valet, one Vincenzo 
 Flamma. Any information would be gratefully received by 
 the police authorities. If within twelve months no news were 
 obtained, the immense properties of the Romani family, in 
 default of existing kindred, would be handed over to the 
 mm. 
 
 There ires much more t$ the same effect, ana T restf it witfr 
 
342 VENDETTA ! 
 
 the utmost indifference. Why do they not search the Roman* 
 vault ? — I thought gloomily — they would find some authentic 
 information there ! But I know the Neapolitans well ; they 
 are timorous and superstitious j they would as soon hug a pes- 
 tilence as explore a charnel house. One thing gladdened me ; 
 it was the projected disposal of my fortune. The crown, the 
 kingdom of Italy, was surely as noble an heir as a man could 
 Have I I returned to my woodland hut with a strange peace 
 «n my soul. 
 
 As I told you at first, I am a dead man — the world, with its 
 susy life and aims, has naught to do with me. The tall trees, 
 the birds, the whispering grasses are my friends and my com- 
 panions — they, and they only, are sometimes the silent wit- 
 nesses of the torturing fits of agony that every now and then 
 overwhelm me with bitterness. For I suffer always. That is 
 natural. Revenge is sweet ! — but who shall paint the horrors 
 of memory ? My vengeance now recoils upon my own head, 
 I do not complain of this — it is the law of compensation — it is 
 just I blame no one — save Her, the woman who wrought my 
 wrong. Dead as she is I do not forgive her ; I have tried to, 
 but I cannot ! Do men ever truly forgive the women who 
 ruin their lives ? I doubt it. As for me, I feel that the end is 
 not yet — that when my soul is released from its earthly 
 prison, I shall still be doomed in some drear dim way to 
 pursue her treacherous flitting spirit over the black chasms of 
 a hell darker than Dante's — she in the likeness of a wander- 
 ing flame — I as her haunting shadow ; she, flying before me 
 in coward fear — I, hasting after her in relentless wrath — and 
 this forever and ever t 
 
 But I ask no pity — I need none, I punished the guilty, 
 and in doing so suffered more than they — that is as it must 
 Uways be. I have no regret and no remorse ; only one thing 
 roubles me — one little thing — a mere foolish fancy! It 
 xmies upon me in the night, when the large-faced moon looks 
 it me from heaven. For the moon is grand in this climate ; 
 ihe is like a golden-robed empress of all the worlds as she 
 sweeps in lustrous magnificence through the dense violet 
 skies. I shut out her radiance as much as I can ; I close the 
 blind at the narrow window of my solitary forest cabin ; and vet 
 do what I will, one wide ray creeps in always — one ray that 
 eludes all my efforts to expel it. Under the door it comes, 
 ox through some unguessed cranny in the wood-work. I have 
 in vain tried to find the place of its entrance. 
 
 The color of the moonlight in tMn £lknat» Is of a mellow 
 
VENDETTA. 
 
 M 
 
 amber — so cannot understand why that pallid ray that visits 
 me so often, should be green — a livid, cold, watery green ; 
 and in it, like a lily in an emerald pool, I see a little white 
 hand on which the jewels cluster thick like drops of dew. 
 The hand moves — it lifts itself — the small fingers point at 
 me threateningly — they quiver — and then — they beckon me 
 slowly, solemnly, commandingly onward ! — onward ! — to 
 some infinite land of awful mysteries where Light and Love 
 >hall dawn for me no more. 
 
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THIS popular novel writer 
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 Aikenside, 
 
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 Cousin Maude, 
 
 Darkness and Daylight, 
 
 Dora Deane, 
 
 Edith Lyle's Secret, 
 
 English Orphans, 
 
 Ethelyn's Mistake, 
 
 Family Pride, 
 
 Homestead on the Hillside, 
 
 Leighton Homestead, 
 
 Lena Rivers, 
 
 Maggie Miller, 
 
 Marian Grey, 
 
 Mildred, 
 
 Millbank, 
 
 Miss McDonald 
 
 Rector of St. Marks, 
 
 Rose Mather, 
 
 Tempest and Sunshine. 
 
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Helen's 
 Babies 
 
 By 
 
 John Habberton 
 
 Interesting ! 
 Entertaining t 
 Amusing! 
 
 A BOOK with a famous reputation. It is safe to 
 say that no book, illustrating the doings of child- 
 ren, has ever been published that has reached the 
 popularity enjoyed by "Helen's Babies." Brilliantly 
 written, Habberton records in this volume some of the 
 cutest, wittiest and most amusing of childish sayings, 
 whims and pranks, all at the expense of a bachelor 
 uncle. The book is elaborately illustrated, which 
 greatly assists the reader in appreciating page by page, 
 Habberton's masterpiece. 
 Published as follows : 
 
 Popular Price Edition, Cloth, 60c, Postpaid. 
 
 Quarto Edition, with Six Colored Plates, Cloth, 
 $1.25, Postpaid. 
 
 We guarantee that you will not suffer from "the 
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Louisa May 
 Alcott's Works 
 
 Author of 
 
 "kittle Men" and 
 
 "Little Women" 
 
 No library for girls is complete without 
 the works of this celebrated authoress in it. 
 Books absolutely wholesome and sought and 
 eagerly read by girls everywhere. 
 
 A Modern Cinderella. 
 Flower Fables. 
 Hospital Sketches. 
 Moods. 
 
 Louisa May Alcott 
 Louisa May Alcott 
 Louisa May Alsott 
 Louisa May Alcott 
 
 Books by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney, 
 
 another famous authoress whom girls delight in : 
 
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 Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney 
 
 <ia > : worthy S. Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney 
 
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Books by 
 
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 list of her best: 
 
 Daddy's Girl. 
 
 Dr. Rumsey's Patient. 
 
 Francis Kane's Fortune. 
 
 Gay Charmer, A. 
 
 Girl in Ten Thousand, A. 
 
 Girl of the People, A. 
 
 Girls of the True Blue. 
 
 Heart of Gold, The. 
 
 Honorable Miss, The. 
 
 How It All Came About. 
 
 Merry Girls of England. 
 
 Miss Nonentity, 
 
 Palace Beautiful. 
 
 Polly, a New-FashionedGirl 
 
 Rebels of the School. 
 
 Sweet Girl Graduate, A. 
 
 Very Naughty Girl, A. 
 
 Wild Kitty. 
 
 World of Girls. 
 
 Young Mutineers, The. 
 
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Little 
 
 Prmdy 
 
 Books 
 
 A handsome little series of books by 
 that popular writer of books for the little 
 folks — Sophie May. This authoress 
 knows how to please the young people 
 and countless numbers of these stories 
 have been sold. We issue them at a 
 popular price. 
 
 LITTLE PRUDY. 
 
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 LITTLE PRUDY'S COUSIN GRACE. 
 LITTLE PRUDY'S DOTTY DIMPLE. 
 LITTLE PRUDY'S SISTER SUSY. 
 LITTLE PRUDY'S STORY BOOK. 
 
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 Sophie May 
 Sophie May 
 Sophie May 
 Sophie May 
 May 
 
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Capf. Marryafs Works 
 
 This writer is cele- 
 brated for his Sea 
 Stories. They are 
 bound to please and 
 entertain their read- 
 ers and wc urgently 
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 the complete set of 
 
 six books. No library is complete 
 
 without them. 
 
 Jacob Faithful 
 
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 Mr. Midshipman Easy 
 
 Peter Simple 
 
 Rattlin, the Reefer 
 
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BooKs by 
 
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 are noted for their animation and ex- 
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 below : 
 
 Famous American Naval Commanders 
 
 Golden Hock 
 
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 Land of Mystery 
 
 Old Ironsides; Hero of Tripoli and 1812 
 
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