Chapter Forty Three.
Ill-Will.
Dramatis Personae.
Mr Cadaverous, An old miser, very rich and very ill.
Edward, A young lawyer without a brief.
Mr Haustus Gumarabic, Apothecary.
Seedy, Solicitor.
Thomas Montague, John Montague, Nephews to Mr Cadaverous.
James Sterling, William Sterling, nephews twice removed to Mr Cadaverous.
Clementina Montagu, Niece to Mr Cadaverous.
Mrs Jellybags, Housekeeper and nurse.
Act One.
Scene.—A sick room.—Mr Cadaverous in an easy chair asleep, supported by cushions, wrapped up in his dressing-gown, a night-cap on his head.—A small table with phials, gallipots, etcetera.—Mrs Jellybags seated on a chair close to the table.
(Mrs Jellybags looks at Mr Cadaverous, and then comes forward.) He sleeps yet—the odious old miser! Mercy on me, how I do hate him,—almost as much as he loves his money! there’s one comfort, he cannot take his money-bags with him, and the doctor says that he cannot last much longer. Ten years have I been his slave—ten years have I been engaged to be married to Sergeant Major O’Callaghan of the Blues—ten years has he kept me waiting at the porch of Hymen,—and what thousands of couples have I seen enter during the time! Oh dear! its enough to drive a widow mad. I think I have managed it;—he has now quarrelled with all his relations, and Dr Gumarabic intends this day to suggest the propriety of his making his last will and testament. (Mr Cadaverous, still asleep, coughs.) He is waking, (Looks at him.) No, he is not. Well, then, I shall wake him, and give him a draught, for, after such a comfortable sleep as he is now in, he might last a whole week longer. (Goes up to Mr Cadaverous, and shakes him.)
Mr Cad. (starting up.) Ugh ugh! ugh! (coughs violently.) Oh! Mrs Jellybags, I’m so ill. Ugh! ugh!
Jel. My dear, dear sir! now don’t say so. I was in hopes, after such a nice long sleep you would have found yourself so much better.
Cad. Long sleep! oh dear!—I’m sure I’ve not slept ten minutes.
Jel. (aside.) I know that. (Aloud.) Indeed, my dear sir, you are mistaken. Time passes very quick when we are fast asleep. I have been watching you and keeping the flies off. But you must now take your draught, my dear sir, and your pill first.
Cad. What! more pills and more draughts! Why, there’s no end to them.
Jel. Yes, there will be, by and by, my dear sir. You know Doctor Gumarabic has ordered you take one pill and one draught every half hour.
Cad. And so I have—never missed one for the last six weeks—woke up for them day and night. I feel very weak—very weak, indeed! Don’t you think I might eat something, my dear Mrs Jellybags?
Jel. Eat, my dear Mr Cadaverous!—how can you ask me, when you know that Doctor Gumarabic says that it would be the death of you?
Cad. Only the wing of a chicken,—or a bit of the breast—
Jel. Impossible!
Cad. A bit of dry toast, then; any thing, my dear Mrs Jellybags. I’ve such a gnawing—Ugh! ugh!
Jel. My dear sir, you would die if you swallowed the least thing that’s nourishing.
Cad. I’m sure I shall die if I do not. Well, then, a little soup—I should like that very much indeed.
Jel. Soup! it would be poison, my dear sir! No, no. You must take your pill and your draught.
Cad. Oh dear! oh dear!—Forty-eight pills and forty-eight draughts every twenty-four hours!—not a wink of sleep day or night.
Jel. (soothingly.) But it’s to make you well, you know, my dear Mr Cadaverous. Come, now. (Hands him a pill and some water in a tumbler.)
Cad. The last one is hardly down yet;—I feel it sticking half-way. Ugh! ugh!
Jel. Then wash them both down at once. Come, now, ’tis to make you well, you know.
Cadaverous takes the pill with a wry face, and coughs it up again.
Cad. Ugh! ugh! There—it’s up again. Oh dear! oh dear!
Jel. You must take it, my dear sir. Come, now, try again.
Cad. (coughing.) My cough is so bad. (Takes the pill.) Oh, my poor head! Now I’ll lie down again.
Jel. Not yet, my dear Mr Cadaverous. You must take your draught;—it’s to make you well, you know.
Cad. What! another draught? I’m sure I must have twenty draughts in my inside, besides two boxes of pills!
Jel. Come, now—it will be down in a minute.
(Cadaverous takes the wine-glass in his hand, and looks at it with abhorrence.)
Jel. Come, now.
(Cadaverous swallows the draught, and feels very sick, puts his handkerchief to his mouth, and, after a time, sinks back in the chair quite exhausted, and shuts his eyes.)
Jel. (aside.) I wish the doctor would come. It’s high time that he made his will.
Cad. (drawing up his leg.) Oh! oh! oh!
Jel. What’s the matter, my dear Mr Cadaverous.
Cad. Oh! such pain!—oh! rub it, Mrs Jellybags.
Jel. What, here, my dear sir? (Rubs his knee.)
Cad. No, no!—Not there!—Oh, my hip!
Jel. What, here? (Rubs his hip.)
Cad. No, no!—higher—higher! Oh, my side!
Jel. What, here? (Rubs his side.)
Cad. No!—lower!
Jel. Here? (Rubbing.)
Cad. No!—higher!—Oh, my chest!—my stomach! Oh dear!—oh dear!
Jel. Are you better now, my dear sir?
Cad. Oh dear! oh! I do believe that I shall die! I’ve been a very wicked man, I’m afraid.
Jel. Don’t say so, Mr Cadaverous. Every one but your nephews and nieces say that you are the best man in the world.
Cad. Do they? I was afraid that I had not been quite so good as they think I am.
Jel. I’d like to hear any one say to the contrary. I’d tear their eyes out,—that I would.
Cad. You are a good woman, Mrs Jellybags; and I shall not forget you in my will.
Jel. Don’t mention wills, my dear sir. You make me so miserable. (Puts her handkerchief to her eyes.)
Cad. Don’t cry, Mrs Jellybags. I won’t talk any more about it. (Sinks back exhausted.)
Jel. (wiping her eyes.) Here comes Dr Gumarabic.
Enter Gumarabic.
Gum. Good morning, Mistress Jellybags. Well, how’s our patient?—better?—heh?
(Mrs Jellybags shakes her head.)
Gum. No: well, that’s odd. (Goes up to Mr Cadaverous.) Not better, my dear sir?—don’t you feel stronger?
Cad. (faintly.) Oh, no!
Gum. Not stronger! Let us feel the pulse. (Mrs Jellybags hands a chair, and Gumarabic sits down, pulls out his watch, and counts.) Intermittent—135—well, now—that’s very odd! Mrs Jellybags, have you adhered punctually to my prescriptions?
Jel. Oh yes, sir, exactly.
Gum. He has eaten nothing?
Cad. Nothing at all.
Gum. And don’t feel stronger? Odd—very odd! Pray, has he had any thing in the way of drink? Come, Mrs Jellybags, no disguise,—tell the truth;—no soup—warm jelly—heh?
Jel. No, sir; upon my word, he has had nothing.
Gum. Humph?—and yet feels no stronger? Well, that’s odd!—Has he taken the pill every half-hour?
Jel. Yes, sir, regularly.
Gum. And feels no better! Are you sure that he has had his draught with his pill?
Jel. Every time, sir.
Gum. And feels no better! Well, that’s odd!—very odd, indeed! (Rises and comes forward with Mrs Jellybags.) We must throw in some more draughts, Mrs Jellybags; there is no time to be lost.
Jel. I am afraid he’s much worse, sir.
Gum. I am not at all afraid of it, Mrs Jellybags,—I am sure of it;—it’s very odd,—but the fact is, that all the physic in the world won’t save him; but still he must take it,—because—physic was made to be taken.
Jel. Very true, sir. (Whispers to Gumarabic.)
Gum. Ah! yes;—very proper. (Going to Mr Cadaverous.) My dear sir, I have done my best; nevertheless, you are ill,—very ill,—which is odd,—very odd! It is not pleasant,—I may say, very unpleasant,—but if you have any little worldly affairs to settle,—will to make,—or a codocil to add, in favour of your good nurse, your doctor, or so on,—it might be as well to send for your lawyer;—there is no saying, but, during my practice, I have sometimes found that people die. After all the physic you have taken, it certainly is odd—very odd—very odd, indeed;—but you might die to-morrow.
Cad. Oh dear!—I’m very ill.
Jel. (sobbing.) Oh dear! oh dear!—he’s very ill.
Gum. (comes forward, shrugging up his shoulders.) Yes; he is ill—very ill;—to-morrow, dead as mutton! At all events he has not died for want of physic. We must throw in some more draughts immediately;—no time to be lost. Life is short,—but my bill will be long—very long!
(Exit as scene closes.)
Act 2.
Scene 1.—Enter Clementina, with a letter in her hand.
Clem. I have just received a letter from my dear Edward: he knows of my uncle’s danger, and is anxious to see me. I expect him immediately. I hope he will not be seen by Mrs Jellybags as he comes in, for she would try to make more mischief than than she has already. Dear Edward! how he loves me! (Kisses the letter.)
Enter Edward.
Edw. My lovely, my beautiful, my adored Clementina! I have called upon Mr Gumarabic, who tells me that your uncle cannot live through the twenty-four hours, and I have flown here, my sweetest, dearest, to—to—
Clem. To see me, Edward: surely there needs no excuse for coming?
Edw. To reiterate my ardent, pure, and unchangeable affection, my dearest Clementina to assure you, that in sickness or in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, as they say in the marriage ceremony, I am yours till death us do part.
Clem. I accept the vow, dearest Edward. You know too well my heart for me to say more.
Edw. I do know your heart, Clementina, as it is,—nor do I think it possible that you could change;—still, sometimes—that is for a moment when I call to mind that, by your uncle’s death, as his favourite niece, living with him for so many years, you may soon find yourself in possession of thousands,—and that titled men may lay their coronets at your feet,—then, Clementina—
Clem. Ungenerous and unkind!—Edward, I almost hate you. Is a little money, then, to sway my affections? Shame, Edward, shame on you! Is such your opinion of my constancy? (Weeps.) You must judge me by your own heart.
Edw. Clementina! dearest Clementina!—I did!—but rather—that is,—I was not in earnest;—but when we value any object as I value you,—it may be forgiven, if I feel at times a little jealous;—yes, dearest, jealous!
Clem. ’Twas jealousy then, Edward, which made you so unkind? Well, then, I can forgive that.
Edw. Nothing but jealousy, dearest! I cannot help, at times, representing you surrounded by noble admirers,—all of them suing to you,—not for yourself, but for your money, tempting you with their rank;—and it makes me jealous, horribly jealous! I cannot compete with lords, Clementina,—a poor barrister without a brief.
Clem. I have loved you for yourself, Edward. I trust you have done the same toward me.
Edw. Yes; upon my soul, my Clementina!
Clem. Then my uncle’s disposition of his property will make no difference in me. For your sake, my dear Edward, I hope he will not forget me. What’s that? Mrs Jellybags is coming out of the room. Haste, Edward;—you must not be seen here. Away, dearest!—and may God bless you.
Edw. (kisses her hand.) Heaven preserve my adored, my matchless, ever-to-be-loved Clementina.
(Exeunt separately.)
Scene 2.—The sick room—Mr Cadaverous, lying on sofa-bed—Mr Seedy, the lawyer, sitting by his side, with papers on the table before him.
Seedy. I believe now, sir, that every thing is arranged in your will according to your instructions. Shall I read it over again; for although signed and witnessed, you may make any alteration you please by a codicil.
Cad. No, no. You have read it twice, Mr Seedy, and you may leave me now. I am ill, very ill, and wish to be alone.
Seedy (folds up his papers and rises.) I take my leave, Mr Cadaverous, trusting to be long employed as your solicitor.
Cad. Afraid not, Mr Seedy. Lawyers have no great interest in heaven. Your being my solicitor will not help me there.
Seedy (coming forward as he goes out.) Not a sixpence to his legal adviser! Well, well! I know how to make out a bill for the executors.
(Exit Seedy, and enter Mrs Jellybags.)
Jel. (with her handkerchief to her eyes.) Oh dear! oh dear! oh, Mr Cadaverous, how can you fatigue and annoy yourself with such things as wills?
Cad. (faintly.) Don’t cry, Mrs Jellybags. I’ve not forgotten you.
Jel. (sobbing.) I can’t—help—crying. And there’s Miss Clementina,—now that you are dying,—who insists upon coming in to see you.
Cad. Clementina, my niece, let her come in, Mrs Jellybags; I feel I’m going fast,—I may as well take leave of every body.
Jel. (sobbing.) Oh dear! oh dear! You may come in, Miss.
Enter Clementina.
Clem. My dear uncle, why have you, for so many days, refused me admittance? Every morning have I asked to be allowed to come and nurse you, and for more than three weeks have received a positive refusal.
Cad. Refusal! Why I never had a message from you.
Clem. No message! Every day I have sent, and every day did Mrs Jellybags reply that you would not see me.
Cad. (faintly.) Mrs Jellybags,—Mrs Jellybags—
Clem. Yes, uncle; it is true as I stand here;—and my brother Thomas has called almost every day, and John every Sunday, the only day he can leave the banking-house; and cousins William and James have both been here very often.
Cad. Nobody told me! I thought every one had forgotten me. Why was I not informed, Mrs Jellybags?
Jel. (in a rage.) Why, you little, story-telling creature, coming here to impose upon your good uncle! You know that no one has been here—not a soul;—and as for yourself, you have been too busy looking after a certain gentleman ever to think of your poor uncle;—that you have;—taking advantage of his illness to behave in so indecorous a manner. I would have told him every thing, but I was afraid of making him worse.
Clem. You are a false, wicked woman!
Jel. Little impudent creature,—trying to make mischief between me and my kind master, but it won’t do. (To Clementina aside.) The will is signed, and I’ll take care he does not alter it;—so do your worst.
Cad. (faintly.) Give me the mixture, Mrs —
Clem. I will, dear uncle. (Pours out the restorative mixture in a glass.)
Jel. (going back.) You will, Miss,—indeed! but you shan’t.
Clem. Be quiet, Mrs Jellybags;—allow me at least to do something for my poor uncle.
Clem. Give me the mix—
Jel. (prevents Clementina from giving it, and tries to take it from her.) You shan’t, Miss!—You never shall.
Cad. Give me the —
(Mrs Jellybags and Clementina scuffle, at last Clementina throws the contents of the glass into Mrs Jellybags’s face.)
Clem. There, then!—since you will have it.
Jel. (in a rage.) You little minx!—I’ll be revenged for that. Wait a little till the will is read,—that’s all;—See if I don’t bundle you out of doors,—that I will.
Clem. As you please, Mrs Jellybags; but pray give my poor uncle his restorative mixture.
Jel. To please you?—Not I! I’ll not give him a drop till I think proper. Little, infamous, good-for-nothing—
Cad. Give me—oh!
Jel. Saucy—man-seeking—
Clem. Oh! as for that, Mrs Jellybags, the big sergeant was here last night—I know that. Talk of men indeed!
Jel. Very well, Miss!—very well! Stop till the breath is out of your uncle’s body—and I’ll beat you till your’s is also.
Cad. Give—oh!
Clem. My poor uncle! He will have no help till I leave the room—I must go. Infamous woman! Exit.
Cad. Oh!
Jel. I’m in such a rage!—I could tear her to pieces!—the little!—the gnat! Oh, I’ll be revenged! Stop till the will is read, and then I’ll turn her out into the streets to starve. Yes! yes! the will!—the will! (Pauses and pants for breath.) Now, I recollect the old fellow called for his mixture. I must go and get some mere. I’ll teach her to throw physic in my face.
(Goes out and returns with a phial—pours out a portion, and goes up to Mr Cadaverous.)
Jel. Here, my dear Mr Cadaverous. Mercy on me!—Mr Cadaverous!—why, he’s fainted!—Mr Cadaverous! (Screams.) Lord help us!—why, he’s dead! Well now, this sort of thing does give one a shock, even when one has longed for it. Yes, he’s quite dead! (Coming forward.) So, there’s an end of all his troubles—and, thank Heaven! of mine also. Now for Sergeant-major O’Callaghan, and—love! Now for Miss Clementina, and—revenge? But first the will!—the will!
Curtain drops.
Act 3.
Mrs Jellybags.
Oh dear!—this is a very long morning. I feel such suspense—such anxiety; and poor Sergeant-major O’Callaghan is quite in a perspiration! He is drinking and smoking down in the kitchen to pass away the time, and if the lawyer don’t come soon, the dear man will be quite fuddled. He talks of buying a farm in the country. Well, we shall see; but if the Sergeant thinks that he will make ducks and drakes of my money, he is mistaken. I have not been three times a widow for nothing—I will have it all settled upon myself; that must and shall be, or else—no Sergeant O’Callaghan for me!
Enter Clementina.
So, here you are, Miss. We’ll wait till the will is read, and then we shall see who is mistress here.
Clem. I am as anxious as you, Mrs Jellybags. You may have wheedled my poor uncle to make up the will in your favour; if so, depend upon it, I shall expect nothing from your hands.
Jel. I should rather think not, Miss. If I recollect right, you threw the carminative mixture in my face.
Clem. And made you blush for the first time in your life.
Jel. I shall not blush to slam the door in your face.
Clem. Rather than be indebted to you, I would beg my bread from door to door.
Jel. I expect that you very soon will.
Enter Edward.
Edw. My dearest Clementina, I have come to support you on this trying occasion.
Jel. And ascertain how matters stand, before you decide upon marrying, I presume, Mr Edward.
Edw. Madam, I am above all pecuniary considerations.
Jel. So everybody says, when they think themselves sure of money.
Edw. You judge of others by yourself.
Jel. Perhaps I do—I certainly do expect to be rewarded for my long and faithful services.
Clem. Do not waste words upon her, my dear.—You have my solemn promise; nothing shall change my feeling towards you.
Jel. That may be; but did it never occur to you, Miss, that the gentleman’s feelings might alter?
Edw. Detestable wretch!
(Hands Clementina to a chair on the right, and sits by her. Enter Nephews John, Thomas, William, and James, all with white pocket-handkerchiefs in their hands—they take their seats two right and two left.)
Jel. (aside.) Here they all come, like crows that smell carrion. How odious is the selfishness of this world! But here is Mr Gumarabic. How do you do, Sir? (Curtsies with a grave air.)
Gum. Very well, I thank you, Mrs Jellybags. Can’t say the—same of all my patients. Just happened to pass by—thought I would step in and hear the will read—odd, that I should pop in at the time—very odd. Pray, may I ask, my dear Mrs Jellybags, were you present at the making of the will?
Jel. No, my dear sir; my nerves would not permit me.
Gum. Nerves!—odd, very odd! Then you don’t know how things are settled?
Jel. No more than the man in the moon, my dear sir.
Gum. Man in the moon!—odd comparison that from a woman!—very odd! Hope my chance won’t prove all moonshine.
Jel. I should think not, my dear sir; but here comes Mr Seedy, and we shall know all about it.
(Enter Mr Seedy—Mrs Jellybags, all courtesy, waves her hand to a chair in the centre, with a table before it. Mr Seedy sits down, pulls the will out of his pocket, lays it on the table, takes out his snuff-box, takes a pinch, then his handkerchief, blows his nose, snuffs the candles, takes his spectacles from his waistcoat pocket, puts them on, breaks the seals, and bows to the company: Mrs Jellybags has taken her seat on the left next to him, and Dr Gumarabic by her side. Mrs Jellybags sobs very loud, with her handkerchief to her face.)
Seedy. Silence, if you please.
(Mrs Jellybags stops sobbing immediately.)
Edw. (putting his arm round Clementina’s waist.) My dearest Clementina!
(Mr Seedy hems twice, and then reads,—)
“The last Will and Testament of Christopher Cadaverous, Gentleman, of Copse horton, in the County of Cumberland.
“I, Christopher Cadaverous, being at this time in sound mind, do hereby make my last will and testament.
“First, I pray that I may be forgiven all my manifold sins and wickedness, and I do beg forgiveness of all those whom I may have injured unintentionally or otherwise; and at the same time do pardon all those who may have done me wrong, even to John Jones, the turnpike man, who unjustly made me pay the threepenny toll twice over on Easter last, when I went up to receive my dividends.
“My property, personal and real, I devise to my two friends, Solomon Lazarus, residing at Number 3, Lower Thames-street, and Hezekiah Flint, residing at Number 16, Lothbury, to have and to hold for the following uses and purposes:—
“First, to my dearly beloved niece, Clementina Montagu, I leave the sum of one hundred and fifty pounds, three and a half per cent consols, for her sole use and benefit, to be made over to her, both principal and interest, on the day of her marriage.” (Edward withdraws his arm from Clementina’s waist—turns half round from her, and falls back in his chair with a pish!)
“To my nephew, Thomas Montagu, I leave the sum of nineteen pounds nineteen shilling and sixpence—having deducted the other sixpence to avoid the legacy duty.”
(Thomas turns from the lawyer with his face to the front of the stage; crossing his legs.)
“To my nephew, John Montagu, I leave also the sum of nineteen pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence.”
(John turns away in the same manner.)
“To my nephew, once removed, James Stirling, I leave the sum of five pounds to purchase a suit of mourning.”
(James turns away as the others.)
“To my nephew, once removed, William Stirling, I leave the sum of five pounds to purchase a suit of mourning.”
(William turns away as the others.)
“To my kind and affectionate housekeeper, Mrs Martha Jellybags—”
(Mrs Jellybags sobs loudly, and cries “Oh dear! Oh dear!”)
Mr Seedy. Silence, if you please. (Reads.)
“In return for all her attention to me during my illness, and her ten years’ service, I leave the whole of my—”
(Mr Seedy having come to the bottom of the page lays down the will, takes out his snuff-box, takes a pinch, blows his nose, snuffs the candles, and proceeds.)
“I leave the whole of my wardrobe, for her entire use and disposal; and also my silver watch with my key and seal hanging to it.
“And having thus provided for—”
(Mrs Jellybags, who has been listening attentively, interrupts Mr Seedy in great agitation.)
Jel. Will you be pleased to read that part over again?
Seedy. Certainly, ma’am. “I leave the whole of my wardrobe, and also my silver watch, with the key and seal hanging to it.”
(Mrs Jellybags screams, and falls back in a swoon on her chair—no one assists her.)
“And having thus provided for all my relations, I do hereby devise the rest of my property to the said Solomon Lazarus and Hezekiah Flint, to have and to hold for the building and endowment of an hospital for diseases of the heart, lights, liver, and spleen, as set off by the provisions in the schedule annexed to my will as part and codicil to it.”
Seedy. Would the relations like me to read the provisions?
Omnes. No! no! no!
(Mr Seedy is about to fold up the papers.)
Gum. I beg your pardon, sir, but is there no other codicil?
Seedy. I beg your pardon, Mr Gumarabic, I recollect now there is one relative to you.
Gum. (nods his head.) I thought so.
(Seedy reads.)
“And whereas I consider that my apothecary, Mr Haustus Gumarabic, hath sent in much unnecessary physic, during my long illness—it is my earnest request that my executors will not fail to tax his bill.”
Gum. (rises and comes forward.) Tax my bill!—well that is odd, very odd! I may as well go and look after my patients. (Exit.)
(James and William come forward.)
James. I say, Bill, how are you off for a suit of mourning?
Will. Thanky for nothing, Jem. If the old gentleman don’t go to heaven until I put it on, he will be in a very bad way. Come along, it’s no use staying here.
(John and Thomas come forward.)
John. I say, Tom, how are you off for nineteen pounds nineteen and six? Heh!
Thos. Let’s toss and see which shall have both legacies. Here goes—heads or tails?
John. Woman for ever.
Thos. You’ve won, so there’s an end of not only my expectations but realities. Come along, Mrs Jellybags must be anxious to look over her wardrobe.
John. Yes, and also the silver watch and the key and seal hanging to it. Good bye, Jemmy! Ha! ha!
(Exeunt, laughing.)
Clem. For shame, John. (Turns to Edward.) My dear Edward, do not appear so downcast. I acknowledge that I am myself much mortified and disappointed—but we must submit to circumstances. What did I tell you before this will was read?—that nothing could alter my feelings towards you, did I not?
Edw. (with indifference.) Yes.
Clem. Why then annoy yourself, my dear Edward?
Edw. The confounded old junks!
Clem. Nay, Edward, recollect that he is dead—I can forgive him.
Edw. But I won’t. Has he not dashed my cup of bliss to the ground? Heavens! what delightful anticipations I had formed of possessing you and competence—all gone!
Clem. All gone, dear Edward?
(Mrs Jellybags, who has been sitting very still, takes her handkerchief from her eyes and listens.)
Edw. Yes, gone!—gone for ever! Do you imagine, my ever dear Clementina, that I would be so base, so cruel, so regardless of you and your welfare, to entrap you into marriage with only one hundred and fifty pounds! No, no!—judge me better. I sacrifice myself—my happiness—all for you!—banish myself from your dear presence, and retire to pass the remainder of my existence in misery and regret, maddened with the feeling that some happier mortal will obtain that dear hand, and will rejoice in the possession of those charms which I had too fondly, too credulously, imagined as certain to be mine.
(Takes out his handkerchief and covers his face; Clementina also puts her handkerchief to her face and weeps. Mrs Jellybags nods her head ironically.)
Clem. Edward!
Edw. My dear, dear Clementina!
Clem. You won’t have me?
Edw. My honour forbids it. If you knew my feelings—how this poor heart is racked!
Clem. Don’t leave me, Edward. Did you not say that for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, you would be mine, till death did us part?
Edw. Did I!
Clem. You know you did, Edward.
Edw. It’s astonishing how much nonsense we talk when in love. My dearest Clementina, let us be rational. We are almost without a sixpence. There is an old adage, that when poverty comes in at the door, love flies out of the window. Shall I then make you miserable! No! no! Hear me, Clementina. I will be generous. I now absolve you from all your vows. You are free. Should the time ever come that prosperity shine upon me, and I find that I have sufficient for both of us of that dross which I despise, then will I return, and, should my Clementina not have entered into any other engagement, throw my fortune and my person at her feet. Till then, dearest Clementina, farewell!
Clem. (sinking into a chair sobbing.) Cruel Edward! Oh, my heart will break!
Edw. I can bear it myself no longer. Farewell! farewell! (Exit.)
Jel. (coming forward.) Well, this is some comfort.—(To Clementina.) Did I not tell you, Miss, that if you did not change your mind, others might?
Clem. Leave me, leave me.
Jel. No, I shan’t; I have as good a right here as you, at all events. I shall stay, Miss.
Clem. (rising.) Stay then—but I shall not. Oh, Edward! Edward! (Exit, weeping.)
Jel. (alone.) Well, I really thought I should have burst—to be forced not to allow people to suppose that I cared, when I should like to tear the old wretch out of his coffin to beat him. His wardrobe! If people knew his wardrobe as well as I do, who have been patching at it these last ten years—not a shirt or a stocking that would fetch sixpence! And as for his other garments, why a Jew would hardly put them into his bag! (Crying.) Oh dear! oh dear! After all, I’m just like Miss Clementina; for Sergeant O’Callaghan, when he knows all this, will as surely walk off without beat of drum, as did Mr Edward—and that too with all the money I have lent him. Oh these men! these men!—whether they are living or dying there is nothing in them but treachery and disappointment! When they pretend to be in love, they only are trying for your money; and even when they make their wills, they leave to those behind them nothing but ill-will.
(Exit, crying, off the stage as the curtain falls.)
Chapter Forty Four.
The Sky-Blue Domino.
It was a flue autumnal evening; I had been walking with a friend until dusk on the Piazza Grande, or principal square in the town of Lucca. We had been conversing of England, our own country, from which I had then banished myself for nearly four years, having taken up my residence in Italy to fortify a weak constitution, and having remained there long after it was requisite for my health from an attachment to its pure sky, and the dolce far niente which so wins upon you in that luxurious climate. We had communicated to each other the contents of our respective letters arrived by the last mail; had talked over politics, great men, acquaintances, friends and kindred; and, tired of conversation, had both sank into a pleasing reverie as we watched the stars twinkling above us, when my friend rose hastily and bid me good night.
“Where are you going, Albert?” inquired I.
“I had nearly forgotten I had an appointment this evening. I promised to meet somebody at the Marquesa di Cesto’s masquerade.”
“Pshaw! are you not tired of these things?” replied I; “that eternal round of black masks and dominos of all colours; heavy harlequins, fools and clowns by nature wearing their proper dresses there, and only in masquerade when out of it; nuns who have no holiness in their ideas, friars without a spice of religion, ugly Venuses, Dianas without chastity, and Hebes as old as your grandmother.”
“All very true, Herbert, and life itself is masquerade enough; but the fact is, that I have an appointment: it is of importance, and I must not fail.”
“Well, I wish you more amusement than I have generally extracted from these burlesque meetings,” replied I. “Adieu, and may you be successful!” And Albert hastened away.
I remained another half hour reclining on the bench, and then returned to my lodgings. My servant Antonio lighted the candle and withdrew. On the table lay a note; it was an invitation from the Marquesa. I threw it on one side and took up a book, one that required reflection and deep examination; but the rattling of the wheels of the carriages as they whirled along past my window would not permit me to command my attention. I threw down the book; and taking a chair at the window, watched the carriages full of masks as they rolled past, apparently so eager in the pursuit of pleasure. I was in a cynical humour. What fools, thought I, and yet what numbers will be there; there will be an immense crowd; and what can be the assignation which Albert said was of such consequence? Such was my reflection for the next ten minutes, during which at least fifty carriages and other vehicles had passed in review before me.
And then I thought of the princely fortune of the Marquesa, the splendid palazzo at which the masquerade was given, and the brilliant scene which would take place.
“The Grand Duke is to be there, and everybody of distinction in Lucca. I have a great mind to go myself.”
A few minutes more elapsed. I felt that I was lonely, and I made up my mind that I would go. I turned from the window and rang the bell.
“Antonio, see if you can procure me a domino, a dark-coloured one if possible; and tell Carlo to bring the carriage round as soon as he can.”
Antonio departed, and was away so long that the carriage was at the door previous to his return.
“Signor, I am sorry, very, very sorry; but I have run to every shop in Lucca, and there is nothing left but a sky-blue domino, which I have brought with me.”
“Sky-blue! why, there will not be two sky-blue dominos in the whole masquerade: I might as well tell my name at once, I shall be so conspicuous.”
“You are as well hidden under a sky-blue domino as a black one, Signor, if you choose to keep your own secrets,” observed Antonio.
“Very true,” replied I, “give me my mask.”
Enshrouding myself in the sky-blue domino, I went down the stairs, threw myself into the carriage, and directed Carlo to drive to the palazzo of the Marquesa.
In half an hour we arrived at the entrance-gates of the Marquesa’s superb country seat. From these gates to the palazzo, a sweep of several hundred yards, the avenue though which the driver passed was loaded with variegated lamps, hanging in graceful festoons from branch to branch; and the notes of music from the vast entrance-hall of the palazzo floated through the still air. When I arrived at the area in front of the flight of marble steps which formed the entrance of the palazzo, I was astonished at the magnificence, the good taste, and the total disregard of expense which were exhibited. The palazzo itself appeared like the fabric built of diamonds and precious stones by the genii who obeyed the ring and lamp of Aladdin, so completely was its marble front hidden with a mass of many-coloured lamps, the reflection from whose galaxy of light rendered it bright as day for nearly one hundred yards around; various mottoes and transparencies were arranged in the walks nearest to the palazzo; and then all was dark, rendered still darker from the contrast with the flood of light which poured to a certain distance from the scene of festivity. Groups of characters and dominos were walking to and fro in every direction; most of them retracing their steps when they arrived at the sombre walks and alleys, some few pairs only continuing their route where no listeners were to be expected.
This is an animating scene, thought I, as the carriage stopped, and I am not sorry that I have made one of the party. As soon as I had descended, I walked up the flight of marble steps which led to the spacious hall in which the major part of the company were collected. The music had, for a moment, ceased to play; and finding that the perfume of the exotics which decorated the hall was too powerful, I was again descending the steps, when my hand was seized and warmly pressed by one in a violet-coloured domino.
“I am so glad that you are come; we were afraid that you would not. I will see you again directly,” said the domino; and it then fell back into the crowd and disappeared.
It immediately occurred to me that it was my friend Albert who spoke to me. “Very odd,” thought I, “that he should have found me out!” And again I fell into the absurdity of imagining that because I had put on a conspicuous domino, I was sure to be recognised. “What can he want with me? We must be in some difficulty, some unexpected one, that is certain.” Such were my reflections as I slowly descended the steps, occasionally pausing for a moment on one, as I was lost in conjecture, when I was again arrested by a slight slap on the shoulder. I looked round: it was a female; and although she wore her half-mask, it was evident that she was young, and I felt convinced that she was beautiful.
“Not a word,” whispered she, putting her finger to her lip; “follow me.” Of course I followed: who could resist such a challenge?
“You are late,” said the incognito, when we had walked so far away from the palazzo as to be out of hearing of the crowd.
“I did not make up my mind to come until an hour ago,” replied I.
“I was so afraid that you would not come. Albert was sure that you would, he was right. He told me just now that he had spoken to you.”
“What! was that Albert in the rose-coloured domino?”
“Yes; but I dare not stay now—my father will be looking for me. Albert is keeping him in conversation. In half an hour he will speak to you again. Has he explained to you what has occurred?”
“Not one word.”
“If he has not had time—and I doubt if he will have, as he must attend to the preparations—I will write a few lines, if I can, and explain, or at least tell you what to do; but I am so harassed, so frightened! We do indeed require your assistance. Adieu!” So saying, the fair unknown tripped hastily away.
“What the deuce is all this?” muttered I, as I watched her retreating figure. “Albert said that he had an appointment, but he did not make me his confidant. It appears that something which has occurred this night occasions him to require my assistance. Well, I will not fail him.”
For about half an hour I sauntered up and down between the lines of orange-trees which were dressed up with variegated lamps, and shed their powerful fragrance in the air: I ruminated upon what might be my friend’s intentions, and what might be the result of an intrigue carried on in a country where the stiletto follows Love so close through all the mazes of his labyrinth, when I was again accosted by the violet-coloured domino.
“Hist!” whispered he, looking carefully round as he thrust a paper into my hand; “read this after I leave you. In one hour from this be you on this spot. Are you armed?”
“No,” replied I; “but Albert—”
“You may not need it; but nevertheless take this,—I cannot wait.” So saying, he put a stiletto into my hand, and again made a hasty retreat.
It had been my intention to have asked Albert what was his plan, and further why he did not speak English instead of Italian, as he would have been less liable to be understood if overheard by eavesdroppers; but a little reflection told me that he was right in speaking Italian, as the English language overheard would have betrayed him, or at least have identified him as a foreigner.
“A very mysterious affair this!” thought I; “but, however, this paper will, I presume, explain the business. That there is a danger in it is evident, or he would not have given me this weapon;” and I turned the stiletto once or twice to the light of the lamp next to me, examining its blade, when, looking up, I perceived a black domino standing before me.
“It is sharp enough, I warrant,” said the domino; “you have but to strike home. I have been waiting for you in the next walk, which I thought was to be our rendezvous. Here is a paper which you will fasten to his dress. I will contrive that he shall be here in an hour hence by a pretended message. After his death you will put this packet into his bosom;—you understand. Fail not: remember the one thousand sequins; and here is my ring, which I will redeem as soon as your work is done. The others will soon be here. The pass-word is ‘Milano.’ But I must not be seen here. Why a sky-blue domino? it is too conspicuous for escape;” and as I received from him the packet and ring, the black domino retreated through the orange grove which encircled us.
I was lost in amazement: there I stood with my hands full—two papers, a packet, a stiletto, and a diamond ring!
“Well,” thought I, “this time I am most assuredly taken for somebody else—for a bravo I am not. There is some foul work going on, which perhaps I may prevent.”
“But why a sky-blue domino?” said he.
I may well ask the same question. “Why the deuce did I come here in a sky-blue domino, or any domino at all?”
I put the ring on my finger, the stiletto and packet in my bosom, and then hastened away to the garden on the other side of the palazzo, that I might read the mysterious communication put into my hands by my friend Albert; and as I walked on, my love for admiration led me away so as to find myself pleased with the mystery and danger attending upon the affair; and feeling secure, now that I had a stiletto in my bosom for my defence, I resolved that I would go right through it until the whole affair should be unravelled.
I walked on till I had gained the last lamp on the other side of the palazzo. I held up to its light the mysterious paper: it was in Italian, and in a woman’s handwriting.
“We have determined upon flight, as we cannot hope for safety here, surrounded as we are by stilettoes on every side. We feel sure of pardon as soon as the papers which Albert received by this day’s mail, and which he will entrust to you when you meet again, are placed in my father’s hands. We must have your assistance in removing our treasure. Our horses are all ready, and a few hours will put us in safety; but we must look to you for following us in your carriage, and conveying for me what would prove so great an incumbrance to our necessary speed. When Albert sees you again, he will be able to tell you where it is deposited. Follow us quick, and you will always have the gratitude of—
“Viola.
“PS. I write in great haste, as I cannot leave my father’s side for a moment without his seeking for me.”
“What can all this mean? Albert told me of no papers by this day’s mail. Viola! I never heard him mention such a name. He said to me, ‘Read this, and all will be explained.’ I’ll be hanged if I am not as much in the dark as ever! Follow them in my carriage with the treasure—never says where! I presume he is about to run off with some rich heiress. Confound this sky-blue domino! Here I am with two papers, a packet, a stiletto, and a ring; I am to receive another packet, and am to convey treasure. Well, it must solve itself—I will back to my post; but first let me see what is in this paper which I am to affix upon the man’s dress after I have killed him.” I held it up to the light, and read, in capital letters, “The reward of a traitor!” “Short and pithy,” muttered I, as I replaced it in my pocket: “now I’ll back to the place of assignation, for the hour must be nearly expired.”
As I retraced my steps, I again reverted to the communication of Viola—“Surrounded as we are by stilettoes on every side!” Why, surely Albert cannot be the person that I am required by the black domino to despatch; and yet it may be so—and others are to join me here before the hour is passed. A thought struck me: whoever the party might be whose life was to be taken, whether Albert or another, I could save him.
My reverie was again broken by a tap on the shoulder.
“Am I right? What is the pass-word?”
“Milano!” replied I, in a whisper.
“All’s right, then—Giacomo and Tomaso are close by—I will fetch them.”
The man turned away, and in a minute re-appeared with two others, bending as they forced their way under the orange-trees.
“Here we all are, Felippo,” whispered the first. “He is to be here in a few minutes.”
“Hush!” replied I, in a whisper, and holding up to them the brilliant ring which sparkled on my finger.
“Ah, Signor, I cry your mercy,” replied the man, in a low voice; “I thought it was Felippo.”
“Not so loud,” replied I, still in a whisper. “All is discovered, and Felippo is arrested. You must away immediately. You shall hear from me to-morrow.”
“Corpo di Bacco! Where, Signor? at the old place?”
“Yes away—now, and save yourselves.”
In a few seconds the desperate men disappeared among the trees, and I was left alone.
“Slaves of the Ring, you have done my bidding at all events, this time,” thought I, and I looked at the ring more attentively. It was a splendid solitaire diamond, worth many hundred crowns. “Will you ever find your way back to our lawful owner?” was the question in my mind when Albert made his appearance in his violet-coloured domino.
“’Twas imprudent of you to send me the paper by the black domino,” said he, hastily. “Did I not tell you that I would be here in an hour? We have not a moment to spare. Follow me quickly, and be silent.”
I followed—the paper which Albert referred to needed no explanation; it was, indeed, the only part of the whole affair which I comprehended. He led the way to about three hundred yards of the path through the wood.
“There,” said he, “in that narrow avenue, you will find my faithful negro with his charge. He will not deliver it up without you show him this ring.” And Albert put a ring upon my finger.
“But, Albert,”—my mind misgave me—Albert never had a faithful negro to my knowledge; it must be some other person who had mistaken me for his friend,—“I am afraid,” continued I—
“Afraid!—let me not hear you say that. You never yet knew fear,” said he, interrupting me. “What have you to fear between this and Pisa? Your own horses will take you there in three hours. But here’s the packet, which you must deliver yourself. Now that you know where the negro is, return to the palazzo, deliver it into his own hands, requesting his immediate perusal. After that do not wait a moment, but hasten here to your charge. While the Grand Duke is reading it I will escape with Viola.”
“I really cannot understand all this,” said I, taking the packet.
“All will be explained when we meet at Pisa. Away, now; to the Grand Duke—I will go to the negro and prepare him for your coming.”
“But allow me—”
“Not a word more, if you love me,” replied the violet-coloured domino, who, I was now convinced, was not Albert; it was not his voice—there was a mystery and a mistake; but I had become so implicated that I felt I could not retreat without sacrificing the parties, whoever they might be.
“Well,” said I, as I turned back to the palazzo, “I must go on now; for, as a gentleman and man of honour, I cannot refuse. I will give the packet to the Grand Duke, and I will also convey his treasure to Pisa, Confound this sky-blue domino!”
As I returned to the palazzo, I was accosted by the black domino.
“Milano!” replied I.
“Is all right, Felippo?” said he, in a whisper.
“All is right, Signor,” was my answer.
“Where is he?”
I pointed with my finger to a clump of orange-trees.
“And the paper and packet?”
I nodded my head.
“Then you had better away—I will see you to-morrow.”
“At the old place, Signor?”
“Yes,” replied the black domino, cutting into a cross-path, and disappearing.
I arrived at the palazzo, mounted the steps, forced my way through the crowd, and perceived the Grand Duke in an inner saloon, the lady who had accosted me leaning on his arm. It then occurred to me that the Grand Duke had an only daughter, whose name was Viola. I entered the saloon, which was not crowded, and walking boldly up to the Grand Duke, presented the packet, requesting that his Highness would give it his immediate attention. I then bowed, and hastened away, once more passed through the thronged hall, and gained the marble steps of the palazzo.
“Have you given it?” said a low voice close to me.
“I have,” replied I; “but, Signor—”
“Not a word, Carlo: hasten to the wood, if you love me.” And the violet-coloured domino forced his way into the crown which filled the hall.
“Now for my journey to Pisa,” said I. “Here I am, implicated in high treason, perhaps, in consequence of my putting on a sky-blue domino. Well, there’s no help for it.”
In a few minutes I had gained the narrow avenue, and having pursued it about fifty yards, perceived the glaring eyes of the crouched negro. By the starlight, I could just distinguish that he had a basket, or something like one, before him.
“What do you come for, Signor?” said the negro, rising on his feet.
“For what has been placed under your charge; here is the ring of your master.”
The negro put his fingers to the ring and felt it, that he might recognise it by its size and shape.
“Here it is, Signor,” said he, lifting up the basket gently, and putting it into my arms. It was not heavy, although somewhat cumbrous from its size.
“Hark! Signor, there is confusion in the palazzo. You must be quick, and I must not be seen with you.” And away darted the negro like lightning through the bushes.
I also hastened away with the basket (contents unknown), for it appeared to me that affairs were coming to a crisis. I heard people running different ways, and voices approaching me. When I emerged from the narrow avenue, I perceived several figures coming down the dark walk at a rapid pace, and, seized with a sort of panic, I took to my heels. I soon found that they were in pursuit, and I increased my speed. In the gloom of the night, I unfortunately tripped over a stone, and fell with the basket to the ground; and then the screams from within informed me that the treasure intrusted to my safe keeping was a child. Fearful that it was hurt, and forgetting, for the time, the danger of being captured, I opened the lid, and examined its limbs, while I tried to pacify it; and while I was sitting down in my sky-blue domino, thus occupied in hushing a baby, I was seized by both shoulders, and found myself a prisoner.
“What is the meaning of this rudeness, Signors?” said I, hardly knowing what to say.
“You are arrested by order of the Grand Duke,” was the reply.
“I am arrested!—why?—I am an Englishman!”
“That makes no difference; the orders are to arrest all found in the garden in sky-blue dominos.”
“Confound the sky-blue domino!” thought I, for the twentieth time at least. “Well, Signora, I will attend you; but first let me try to pacify this poor frightened infant.”
“Strange that he should be found running away with a child at the same time that the Lady Viola has disappeared!” observed one of my captors.
“You are right, Signora,” replied I; “it is very strange; and what is more strange is, that I can no more explain it than you can. I am now ready to accompany you. Oblige me by one of you carrying the basket while I take care of the infant.”
In a few minutes we had arrived at the palazzo. I had retained my mask, and I was conducted through the crowd into the saloon into which I had previously entered when I delivered the packet to the Grand Duke.
“There he is! there he is!” was buzzed through the crowd in the hall. “Holy Virgin! he has a child in his arms! Bambino bellissimo!” Such were the exclamations of wonder and surprise as they made a lane for my passage, and I was in the presence of the Grand Duke, who appeared to be in a state of great excitement.
“It is the same person!” exclaimed the Duke. “Confess! are you not the party who put a packet into my hands about a quarter of an hour since?”
“I am the person, your Highness,” replied I, as I patted and soothed the frightened child.
“Who gave it you?”
“May it please your Highness, I do not know.”
“What child is that?”
“May it please your Highness, I do not know.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Out of that basket, your Highness.”
“Who gave you the basket?”
“May it please your Highness, I do not know.”
“You are trifling with me. Let him be searched.”
“May it please your Highness, I will save them that trouble, if one of the ladies will take the infant. I have received a great many presents this evening, all of which I will have the honour of displaying before your Highness.”
One of the ladies held out her arms to the infant, who immediately bent from mine toward her, naturally clinging to the other sex as its friend in distress.
“In the first place, your Highness, I have this evening received this ring,” taking off my finger the one given by the party in a violet-coloured domino, and presenting it to him.
“And from whom?” said his Highness, instantly recognising the ring.
“May it please your Highness, I do not know. I have also received another ring, your Highness,” continued I, taking off the ring given me by the black domino.
“And who gave you this?” interrogated the Duke, again evidently recognising it.
“May it please your Highness, I do not know. Also, this stiletto, but from whom, I must again repeat, I do not know. Also, this packet, with directions to put it into a dead man’s bosom.”
“And you are, I presume, equally ignorant of the party who gave it to you?”
“Equally so, your Highness; as ignorant as I am of the party who desired me to present you with the other packet which I delivered. Here is also a paper I was desired to pin upon a man’s clothes after I had assassinated him.”
“Indeed!—and to this, also, you plead total ignorance?”
“I have but one answer to give to all, your Highness, which is, I do not know.”
“Perhaps, Sir, you do not know your own name or profession,” observed his Highness, with a sneer.
“Yes, your Highness,” replied I, taking off my mask, “that I do know. I am an Englishman, and, I trust, a gentleman, and a man of honour. My name is Herbert; and I have more than once had the honour to be a guest at your Highness’s entertainments.”
“Signor, I recognise you,” replied the Grand Duke. “Let the room be cleared—I must speak with this gentleman alone.”
When the company had quitted the saloon, I entered into a minute detail of the events of the evening, to which his Highness paid the greatest attention; and when I had finished, the whole mystery was unravelled to me by him, and with which I will now satisfy the curiosity of my readers.
The Grand Duke had one daughter, by name Viola, whom he had wished to marry to Rodolph, Count of Istria; but Viola had met with Albert, Marquis of Salerno, and a mutual attachment had ensued. Although the Grand Duke would not force his daughter’s wishes and oblige her to marry Count Rodolph, at the same time he would not consent to her espousals with the Marquis Albert. Count Rodolph had discovered the intimacy between Viola and the Marquis of Salerno, and had made more than one unsuccessful attempt to get rid of his rival by assassination. After some time, a private marriage with the marquis had been consented to by Viola; and a year afterwards the Lady Viola retired to the country, and without the knowledge, or even suspicions, of her father, had given birth to a male child, which had been passed off as the offspring of one of the ladies of the court who was married, and to whom the secret had been confided.
At this period the secret societies, especially the Carbonari, had become formidable in Italy, and all the crowned heads and reigning princes were using every exertion to suppress them. Count Rodolph was at the head of these societies, having joined them to increase his power, and to have at his disposal the means of getting rid of his rival. Of this the Marquis of Salerno had received intimation, and for some time had been trying to obtain proof against the count; for he knew that if once it was proved, Count Rodolph would never be again permitted to appear in the state of Lucca. On the other hand, Count Rodolph had been making every arrangement to get rid of his rival, and had determined that it should be effected at this masquerade.
The Marquis of Salerno had notice given him of this intention, and also had on that morning obtained the proof against Count Rodolph, which he was now determined to forward to the Grand Duke; but, aware that his assassination by the Carbonari was to be attempted, and also that the wrath of the Grand Duke would be excessive when he was informed of their private marriage, he resolved to fly with his wife to Pisa, trusting that the proofs of Count Rodolph being connected with the Carbonari, and a little time, would soften down the Grand Duke’s anger. The marquis had arranged that he should escape from the Duke’s dominions on the night of the masquerade, as it would be much easier for his wife to accompany him from thence than from the Grand Duke’s palace, which was well guarded; but it was necessary that they should travel on horseback, and they could not take their child with them. Viola would not consent that it should be left behind; and on this emergency he had written to his friend, the Count d’Ossore, to come to their assistance at the masquerade, and, that they might recognise him, to wear a sky-blue domino, a colour but seldom put on. The Count d’Ossore had that morning left his town mansion on a hunting excursion, and did not receive the letter, of which the Marquis and Viola were ignorant. Such was the state of affairs at the time that I put on the sky-blue domino to go to the masquerade.
My first meeting with the marquis in his violet-coloured domino is easily understood: being in a sky-blue domino I was mistaken for the Count d’Ossore. I was myself led into the mistake by the Marquis Albert having the same Christian name as my English friend. The second meeting with the Count Rodolph, in the black domino, was accidental. The next walk had been appointed as the place of meeting with the Carbonari Felippo and his companions; but Count Rodolph, perceiving me examining my stiletto by the light of the lamp, presumed that I was Felippo, and that I had mistaken the one path for the other which had been agreed upon. The papers given to me by Count Rodolph were Carbonari papers, which were to be hid in the marquis’s bosom after he had been assassinated, to make it appear that he had belonged I to that society, and by the paper affixed to his clothes, that he had been murdered by the agents of the society for having betrayed them. The papers which the marquis had requested me to give to the Grand Duke were the proofs of Count Rodolph’s belonging to the secret society; and with the papers was enclosed a letter to the Grand Duke, in which they I acknowledged their secret union. And now, I believe, the reader will comprehend the whole of this mysterious affair.
After all had been explained, I ventured to ask his Highness if he would permit me to fulfil my promise of taking the child to its mother, as I considered it a point of honour that I should keep my engagement, the more so, as the delay would occasion the greatest distress to his daughter; and I ventured to add, that I trusted his Highness would pardon what could not now be remedied, and that I should have the satisfaction of being the bearer of such pleasing intelligence to his daughter and the marquis.
The Grand Duke paced the room for a minute, and then replied, “Signor Herbert, I feel so disgusted with the treachery and baseness of Count Rodolph, that I hardly need observe, if my daughter were free he never should espouse her; indeed, he will have immediate orders to quit the state. You have been instrumental in preserving the life of the Marquis of Salerno, who is my son-in-law, and as matters now stand, I am indebted to you. Your dismissal of the bravoes, by means of the count’s ring, was a masterly stroke. You shall have the pleasure of taking my forgiveness to my daughter and her husband; but as for the child, it may as well remain here. Tell Viola I retain it as a hostage for the quick return of its mother.”
I took my leave of his Highness, and hastened to Pisa, where I soon found out the retreat of the marquis and his wife. I sent up my name, requesting immediate admittance, as having a message from the Grand Duke. I found them in great distress. The Count d’Ossore had returned late on the night of the masquerade, found the letter, hastened to the Marquesa de Cesto’s, and had arrived just after the elopement had been discovered. He immediately followed them to Pisa, when an explanation took place, and they discovered that they had been communicating with some unknown person, by whom they had, in all probability, been betrayed.
It would be difficult to portray their astonishment and joy when I entered into a detail of what had occurred, and wound up with the message from the Grand Duke; and I hardly need add, now that I wind up my story, that the proofs of gratitude I received from the marquis and his wife, during my subsequent residence in Italy, left me no occasion to repent that I had gone to the masquerade of the Marquesa de Cesto, in a Sky-Blue Domino.