Penny Dreadful Multipack Vol. 1 (Illustrated. Annotated. 'Wagner The Wehr-Wolf,' 'Varney The Vampire,' 'The Mysteries of London Vol. 1' + Bonus Features) (Penny Dreadful Multipacks) (17 page)

She stopped short; for she knew
that the bandit overheard every syllable she uttered.

Nor had she time, even if she possessed
the power, to continue her most painful explanation; for scarcely had she thus
paused abruptly, when the door burst open, and the Count of Arestino stood in
the presence of the guilty pair.

THE INJURED HUSBAND—THE GUILTY
WIFE—AND THE INSOLENT LOVER

In
 
fury of heart and agony of mind,
rushed the old lord into that apartment. Oh! how had he even been able to
restrain himself so long, while listening at the door? It was that the
conversation between his wife and the marquis had, as the reader is aware, been
carried on in so low a tone—especially on the side of the countess, that he had
not been able to gather sufficient to place beyond all doubt the guilt of that
fair creature; and even in the midst of his Italian ire, he had clung to the
hope that she might have been imprudent—but not culpable, as yet!

 Oh! in this case, how
gladly would that old lord have forgiven the past, on condition of complete
reformation for the future! He would have removed his young wife afar from the
scene of temptation—to a distant estate which he possessed; and there by gentle
remonstrances and redoubled attention, he would have sought to bind her to him
by the links of gratitude and respect, if not by those of love.

But this dream—so honorable to
that old man’s heart—was not to be realized; for scarcely was it conceived,
when the discourse of the youthful pair turned upon the diamonds—those diamonds
which he had given her on the bridal day!

Giulia spoke clearly and plainly
enough
 
then
—in spite of the presence of
the bandit in that chamber; for she was about to explain to her lover how
willingly she would comply with his suggestion to raise upon the jewels the sum
he again required—a readiness on her part which might be corroborated by the
fact that she had already once had recourse to this expedient, and for
 
him
—but
she dared not adopt the same course again, as her husband might detect the
absence of the valuables ere she could obtain funds to redeem them.

When she acknowledged to her
lover that “these diamonds were pledged to the Jew Isaachar ben Solomon, to
raise the sum with which his last debt was paid,” it flashed to the old
nobleman’s mind that his wife had exhibited some little confusion when he had
spoken to her a day or two previously concerning her jewels: and now it was
clear that they had been used as the means to supply the extravagances of an
unprincipled spendthrift. How could he any longer cling to the hope that Giulia
was imprudent only, and not guilty? Must she not be guilty, to have made so large
a sacrifice and run so great a risk for the sake of the Marquis of Orsini?

It was under the influence of
these excited feelings that the Count of Arestino burst into the room.

Fortunately—so far as outward
appearance went—there was nothing more to confirm the old nobleman’s
suspicions; the youthful pair were not locked in each other’s arms; their hands
were not even joined. Manuel was seated on the sofa, and Giulia was standing at
a short distance from him.

But conscious guilt elicited a
faint scream from her lips; and the boiling blood, after rushing to her
countenance, seemed to ebb away as rapidly again—leaving her beauteous face as
pale as marble; while she clung to the mantel-piece for support.

“I am glad that your lordship is
returned,” said the marquis, rising from his seat and advancing toward the
count in a manner so insolently cool and apparently self-possessed, that Giulia
was not only astonished but felt her courage suddenly revive: “I was
determined—however uncourteous the intrusion and unseemly the hour—to await
your lordship’s coming; and as her ladyship assured me that you would not tarry
late——”

“My lord marquis,” interrupted
the old nobleman, who was himself so taken by surprise at this unembarrassed
mode of address, that he began to fancy his ears must have deceived him
 
 and his suspicions beguiled him;
“on what business could you possibly have needed my services at this late
hour?”

“I will explain myself,” returned
Orsini, who was a perfect adept in the art of dissimulation, and who, never losing
his presence of mind, embraced at a glance the whole danger of Giulia’s
position and his own, and the probability that their conversation might have
been overheard; “I was explaining to her ladyship the temporary embarrassment
under which I lay, and from which I hoped that your friendship might probably
release me——”

“And her ladyship spoke of her
diamonds—did she not?” demanded the count, addressing himself to the marquis,
but fixing a keen and penetrating glance on Giulia.

“Her ladyship was remonstrating
with me on my extravagancies,” hastily replied the marquis, “and was repeating
to me—I must say in a manner too impressive to be agreeable—the words which my
own sister had used to me a few days ago, when explaining, as her motive for
refusing me the succor which I needed, that she actually had been compelled to
pledge her diamonds——”

“Ah! they were your sister’s
diamonds that were pledged to Isaachar the Jew?” said the count, half
ironically and half in doubt; for he was fairly bewildered by the matchless
impudence of the young marquis.

“Yes, my lord—my dear sister,
who, alas! is ruining herself to supply me with the means of maintaining my
rank. And as my sister and her ladyship, the countess, are on the most friendly
terms, as you are well aware, it is not surprising if she should have
communicated the secret of the diamonds to her ladyship, and also beg her
ladyship to remonstrate with me——”

“Well, my lord,” interrupted the
count impatiently, “your own private affairs have no particular interest for
me—at this moment; and as for any business on which you may wish to speak to
me, I shall be pleased if you postpone it till to-morrow.”

“Your lordship’s wishes are
commands with me,” said Manuel, with a polite salutation. And having made a low
bow to Giulia, he quitted the room—not by the private door, be it well
understood, but by that which had ere now admitted the Count of Arestino.

The moment the door had closed
behind the Marquis of Orsini, the count approached his wife, and said in a
cold, severe manner: “Your ladyship receives visitors at a late hour.”

He glanced as he spoke toward the
dial of the clepsydra, and Giulia followed his look in the same direction; it
was half an hour after midnight.

“The marquis explained to your
lordship, or partially so, the motive of his importunate visit,” said Giulia,
endeavoring to appear calm and collected.

“The marquis is an
unworthy—reckless—unprincipled young man,” exclaimed the count, fixing a stern,
searching gaze upon Giulia’s countenance, as if with the iron of his words he
would probe the depths of her soul. “He is a confirmed gamester—overwhelmed
 
 with debts—and has tarnished, by
his profligacy, the proud name that he bears. Even the friendship which existed
for many, many years between his deceased father and myself, shall no longer
induce me to receive at this house a young man whose reputation is all but
tainted, even in a city of dissipation and debauchery, such as, alas! the once
glorious Florence has become! For his immorality is not confined to gaming and
wanton extravagance,” continued the count, his glance becoming more keen, as
his words fell like drops of molten lead upon the heart of Giulia; “but his
numerous intrigues amongst women—his perfidy to those confiding and deceived
fair ones——”

“Surely, my lord,” said the
countess, vainly endeavoring to subdue the writhings of torture which this
language excited,—“surely the Marquis d’Orsini is wronged by the breath of
scandal?”

“No, Giulia, he is an
unprincipled spendthrift,” returned the count, who never once took his eyes off
his wife’s countenance while he was speaking:—“an unprincipled spendthrift,” he
added emphatically,—“a man lost to all sense of honor—a ruined gamester—a
heartless seducer—a shame, a blot, a stigma upon the aristocracy of Florence;—and
now that you are acquainted with his real character, you will recognize the
prudence of the step which I shall take to-morrow—that is, to inform him that
henceforth the Count and Countess of Arestino must decline to receive him again
at their villa. What think you, Giulia?”

“Your lordship is the master to
command, and it is my duty to obey,” answered the countess; but her voice was
hoarse and thick, the acutest anguish was rending her soul, and its intensity
almost choked her utterance.

“She is guilty!” thought the
count within himself; and to subdue an abrupt explosion of his rage, until he
had put the last and most certain test to his lady’s faith, he walked twice up
and down the room; then, feeling that he had recovered his powers of
self-control, he said, “To-morrow, Giulia, is the reception day of his highness
the duke, and I hope thou hast made suitable preparations to accompany me in
the manner becoming the wife of the Count of Arestino.”

“Can your lordship suppose for an
instant that I should appear in the ducal presence otherwise than is meet and
fitting for her who has the honor to bear your name?” said Giulia, partially
recovering her presence of mind, as the conversation appeared to have taken a
turn no longer painful to her feelings—for, oh! cannot the reader conceive the
anguish, the mortal anguish, she had ere now endured when her husband was
heaping ashes on the reputation of her lover!

“I do not suppose that your
ladyship will neglect the preparations due to your rank and to that name which
you esteem it an honor to bear, and which no living being should
 
dishonor
 
with impunity!”

Giulia quailed—writhed beneath
the searching glance which now literally glared upon her.

“Nevertheless,” continued the
count, “I was fearful you
 
 might
have forgotten that to-morrow is the reception day. And while I think of it,
permit me to examine your diamonds for a few minutes—to convince myself that
the settings are in good order, as you know,” he added, with a strange,
unearthly kind of laugh, “that I am skilled in the jewelers’ craft.”

The old man paused; but he
thought within himself, “Now what subterfuge can she invent if my suspicions be
really true, and if my ears did not ere now deceive me?”

How profound then was his
astonishment, when Giulia, with the calm and tranquil demeanor which innocence
usually wears, but with the least, least curl of the upper lip, as if in
haughty triumph, leisurely and deliberately drew the jewel-case from beneath
the cushion of the ottoman whereon she was seated, and, handing it to him,
said, “Your lordship perceives that I had not forgotten the reception which his
highness holds to-morrow, since I ere now brought my diamonds hither to select
those which it is my intention to wear.”

The count could have pressed her
hand as he took the case in his own—he could have fallen at her feet and
demanded pardon for the suspicions which he had entertained, for it now seemed
certain beyond all possibility of doubt, that the explanation volunteered by
the marquis was a true one—yes, he could have humbled himself in her
presence—but his Italian pride intervened, and he proceeded to examine the
diamonds with no other view than to gain time to reflect how he should account
for the abrupt manner in which he had entered the room ere now, and for the
chilling behavior he had maintained toward his wife.

On her side Giulia, relieved of a
fearful weight of apprehension, was only anxious for this scene to have a
speedy termination, that she might release the robber-captain from his
imprisonment behind the tapestry.

Three or four minutes of profound
silence now ensued.

But suddenly the count started,
and uttered an ejaculation of mingled rage and surprise.

Giulia’s blood ran cold to her
very heart’s core, she scarcely knew why.

The suspense was not, however,
long—though most painful; for, dashing the jewel-case with its contents upon
the table, the old nobleman approached her with quivering lips and a
countenance ghastly white, exclaiming, “Vile woman! thinkest thou to impose
upon me thus? The diamonds I gave thee are gone—the stones set in their place
are counterfeit!”

Giulia gazed up toward her
husband’s countenance for a few moments in a manner expressive of blank
despair; then falling on her knees before him, clasping her hands together, she
screamed frantically, “Pardon! pardon!”

“Ah! then it is all indeed too
true!” murmured the unhappy nobleman, staggering as if with a blow: but,
recovering his balance, he stamped his foot resolutely upon the floor, and
drawing himself up to his full height, while he half averted his eyes from his
kneeling wife, he exclaimed: “Lost—guilty—abandoned woman, how canst thou
implore pardon at my
 
 hands?
For pardon is mercy, and what mercy hast thou shown to me? Giulia, I am
descended from an old and mighty race, and tradition affords no room to believe
that any one who has borne the name of Arestino has dishonored it—until now!
Oh! fool—dotard—idiot that I was to think that a young girl could love an aged
man like me! For old age is a weed, which, when twined round the plant of love,
becomes like the deadly nightshade, and robs the rose-bush of its health! Alas!
alas! I thought that in my declining years, I should have one to cheer me, one
who might respect me, if she could not love me—one who would manifest some
gratitude for the proud position I have given her—and the boundless wealth that
it would have been my joy to leave her. And now that hope is
gone—withered—crushed—blighted, woman, by thy perfidy! Oh! wherefore did you
accompany the old man to the altar, if only to deceive him? Wherefore did you
consent to become his bride, if but to plunge him into the depth of misery? You
weep! Ah! weep on; and all those tears, be they even so scalding as to make
seams on that too fair face, cannot wipe away the stain which is now affixed to
the haughty name of Arestino! Weep on, Giulia; but thy tears cannot move me
now!”