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) (52 page)

“Nisida,” returned Duras, also in
a low and cautious tone, “thou knowest that I love thee as if thou wast my own
daughter; and thy voice sounds like music upon my ears. But when will the
dreadful necessity which renders thee dumb before the world—when will it cease,
Nisida?”

“Soon—soon, doctor—if thou wilt
aid me,” answered the lady.

A long and earnest conversation
then ensued; but it is not necessary to give the details to the reader,
inasmuch as their nature will soon transpire. Suffice it to say that Nisida
urged a particular request, which she backed by such explanation and we must
also say misrepresentations as she thought suitable to her purpose; and that
Dr. Duras eventually, though not without compunction and hesitation, at length
acceded to her prayer. She then gave him a brief account of her abduction from
Florence by the villain Stephano—her long residence on the island of snakes—and
her deliverance from thence by the Ottoman fleet, which was now off the port of
Leghorn. But she said nothing of Fernand Wagner: nor did she inform the physician
that she was acquainted with the cause of Francisco’s disappearance and the
place where he was detained. At length Dr. Duras took his leave; but ere he
left the room Nisida caught him by the hand, saying, in a low, yet impressive
tone—“Remember
 
 your solemn
promise, my dear friend, and induce your brother to leave Flora Francatelli to
her fate.”

“I will—I will,” answered the
physician. “And after all you have told me, and if she be really the bad,
profligate, and evil-disposed girl you represent her, it will be well that the
inquisition should hold her tight in its grasp.”

With these words Dr. Duras
departed, leaving Nisida to gloat over the success which her plans had thus far
experienced.

It
 
was verging toward midnight, and
the moon was concealed behind dark clouds, when a tall figure, muffled in a
cloak, climbed over the railing which inclosed one portion of the spacious
garden attached to the Riverola Palace. That person was Fernand Wagner. He had
arrived in Florence two days before that on which Nisida returned to the
ancestral dwelling:—he had entered the city boldly and openly in the joyous
sun-light—and yet no one molested him. He even encountered some of the very
sbirri who had arrested him in the preceding month of February; they saluted
him respectfully—thus showed that they recognized him—but offered not to harm
him. His trial, his condemnation, and his escape appeared all to have been
forgotten. He repaired to his mansion; his servants, who had remained in
possession of the dwelling, received him with demonstrations of joy and welcome
as if he had just returned under ordinary circumstances from a long journey.
Truly, then, he was blessed by the protection of Heaven. And—more wondrous
still—on entering his favorite room he beheld all his pictures in their proper
places, as if none of them had ever been removed—as if the confiscation of
several by the criminal tribunal had never taken place. Over the one which had
proclaimed the secret of his doom to the judges and the audience on the occasion
of his trial, still hung the black cloth; and an undefinable curiosity—no, not
a sentiment of curiosity, but one of hope—impelled him to remove the covering.
And how exquisite was his joy, how great his amazement, how sincere his
thanksgivings, when he beheld but a blank piece of canvas. The horrible picture
of the Wehr-Wolf, a picture which he had painted when in a strangely morbid
state of mind—had disappeared. Here was another sign of Heaven’s goodness—a
further proof of celestial mercy.

On instituting inquiries, Fernand
had learnt that Donna Nisida had not yet come back to Florence: but he employed
trusty persons to watch and give him notice of her arrival the instant it
should occur. Thus Nisida had not been half an hour at the Riverola mansion when
Fernand was made acquainted with her return. From the conversation which had
taken place between them at various times on the island, and as the reader is
well aware, Wagner felt convinced that Nisida would again simulate deafness and
dumbness; and he was therefore desirous to avoid giving her any surprise by
appearing abruptly before her—a proceeding
 
 which
might evoke a sudden ejaculation, and thus betray her secret. Moreover, he knew
not whether circumstances would render his visits, made in a public manner,
agreeable to her: and, perhaps—pardon him, gentle reader—perhaps he was also
curious to learn whether she still thought of him, or whether the excitement of
her return had absorbed all tender feelings of that nature.

Influenced by these various motives,
Wagner muffled himself in a long Tuscan cloak and repaired to the vicinity of
the Riverola mansion. He passed through the gardens without encountering any
one, and, perceiving a side door open, he entered the building. Ascending the
stairs, he thought that he should be acting in accordance with the advice given
him by Rosencrux, and also consistent with prudence, were he at once to seek an
interview with Nisida privately. He therefore repaired in the direction of the
principal saloons of the palace; but losing his way amidst the maze of
corridors, he was about to retire, when he beheld the object of his search, the
beautiful Nisida, enter a room with a lamp in hand. He now felt convinced that
he should meet her alone, and he hurried after her. In pursuance of his
cautious plan, he opened the door gently, and was already in the middle of the
apartment, when he perceived Nisida standing by the side of a bed, and with her
head fixed in that immovable manner which indicates intent gazing upon some
object. Instantly supposing that some invalid reposed in that couch, and now
seized with a dreadful alarm lest Nisida, on beholding him, should utter a
sudden ejaculation which would betray the secret of her feigned dumbness,
Fernand considerately retreated with all possible speed: nor was he aware that
Nisida had observed him, much less that his appearance there had excited such
fears in her breast, those fears being greatly enhanced by his negligence in
leaving the door open behind him.

Oh! had Nisida known it was thou,
Fernand Wagner, how joyous, how happy she would have been; for the conviction
that she bore the pledge of your mutual passion had made her heart yearn that
eve to meet with thee again. And was it a like attraction on thy part, or the
mysterious influence that now guided all thy movements, which induced thee at
midnight to enter the Riverola gardens again, that thou mightest be, as it
were, upon the same spot where she dwelt, and scent the fragrance of the same
flowers that perfumed the atmosphere which she breathed? Oh! doubtless it was
that mysterious influence; for thou hast now that power within thee which made
thee strong to resist all the blandishments of the siren, and to prefer the
welfare of thine own soul to aught in this world beside!

We said, then, at the
commencement of this chapter that Fernand entered the Riverola gardens shortly
after midnight. But scarcely had he crossed the iron railings, turned into the
nearest path formed by shrubs and evergreens, when he was startled by hearing another
person enter the grounds in the same unceremonious manner. Fernand accordingly
stood aside in the deep shade of the trees; and in a few moments a figure,
muffled like himself in a cloak, passed him rapidly by. Wagner
 
 was debating in himself what course
he should pursue—for he feared that some treachery was intended toward
Nisida—when to his boundless surprise, he heard the mysterious visitant say in
a low tone. “Is it you, lady?”—to which question the unmistakable and
never-to-be-forgotten voice of his Nisida answered, “’Tis I, Demetrius. Follow
me noiselessly, and breathe not another word for the present!”

Fernand was shocked and grieved
at what he had just heard, and which savored so strongly of an intrigue. Had
not his ears deceived him? was this the Nisida from whom he had parted but
little more than three weeks back, and who had left him that tender note which
he had found in the hut on the island? But he had no time for reflection; the
pair were moving rapidly toward the mansion—and Wagner unhesitatingly followed,
his footsteps being soundless on the damp soil of the borders of flowers, and
his form being concealed by the shade of the tall evergreens which he skirted.

He watched Nisida and her
companion until they disappeared by a small private door at the back of the
mansion; and this door was by them incautiously left unlocked, though shut
close. It opened rapidly to Wagner’s hand, and he found himself at the foot of
a dark staircase, the sound of ascending steps on which met his ears. Up that narrow
flight he sped, noiselessly but hastily; and in a few moments he was stopped by
another door which had just closed behind those whom he was following. Here he
was compelled to pause, in the hope that the partition might not be so thick as
completely to intercept the sounds of the voices in the chamber; but after
listening with breathless attention for a few minutes, he could not catch even
the murmuring of a whisper. It now struck him that Nisida and her companion
might have passed on into a room more remote than the one to which that door
had admitted them; and he resolved to follow on. Accordingly, he opened the
door with such successful precaution that not a sound—not even the creaking of
the hinge was the result; and he immediately perceived that there was a thick
curtain within; for it will be recollected that this door was behind the
drapery of Nisida’s bed. At the same time, a light, somewhat subdued by the
thick curtain, appeared; and the sound of voices met Fernand’s ears.

“Signor,” said the melodious
voice of Nisida, in its sweetest, softest tones, “it is due to myself to tender
fitting excuse for introducing you thus into my private chamber; but the
necessity of discoursing together without fear of interruption, and in some
place that is secure from the impertinence of eavesdroppers, must serve as an
apology.”

“Lady,” replied Demetrius, “it
needed no explanation of your motive in bringing me hither to command on my
part that respect which is due to you.”

A weight was removed from
Wagner’s mind: it was assuredly no tender sentiment that had brought Nisida and
the Greek together this night; and the curiosity of Fernand was therefore
excited all the more strongly.

“We will not waste time in
unnecessary parlance,” resumed
 
 Nisida,
after a short pause; “nor must you seek to learn the causes—the powerful
causes, which have urged me to impose upon myself the awful sacrifice involved
in the simulation of loss of speech and hearing. Suffice it for you to know
that, when on board the kapitan-pasha’s ship, I overheard every syllable of the
conversation which one day took place between the apostate Ibrahim and
yourself,—a conversation wherein you gave a detailed account of all your
proceedings at Florence, and in the course of which you spoke feelingly of your
sister Calanthe.”

“Alas! poor Calanthe!” exclaimed
Demetrius, in a mournful tone; “and is she really no more?”

“Listen to me while I relate the
manner in which I became aware of her fate,” said Nisida.

She then explained the
treacherous visit of the grand vizier to the cabin wherein she had slept on
board the Ottoman admiral’s ship—the way in which the Ethiopian slave had
interfered to save her—and the conversation that had taken place between
Ibrahim and the negro, revealing the dread fate of Calanthe.

“Is it possible that I have
served so faithfully a man possessed of such a demon-heart?” cried Demetrius.
“But I will have vengeance, lady; yes, the murdered Calanthe shall be avenged!”

“And I too must have vengeance
upon the proud and insolent vizier who sought to violate all the laws of
hospitality in respect to me,” observed Nisida, “and who seeks to marry his
sister, the low-born Flora, the sister of the base renegade, to the illustrious
scion of the noble house of Riverola! Vengeance, too, must I have upon the
wretch Antonio, the panderer to my father’s illicit and degrading
 
amours
—the
miscreant who sought to plunder this mansion, and who even dared to utter
threats against me in that conversation with his accomplice Venturo, which you,
signor, overheard in the streets of Florence. This game wretch it is, too, who
consigned my brother to the custody of banditti; and though, for certain
reasons, I deplore not that captivity which Francisco has endured, inasmuch as
it has effectually prevented him from interesting himself on behalf of Flora
Francatelli, yet as Antonio was animated by vengeance only in so using my
brother, he shall pay the penalty due on account of all his crimes!”

“And in the task of punishing
Antonio, lady,” said Demetrius, “shall I be right glad to aid—for did not the
villain deceive me infamously in respect to the dispatches which I sought to
forward to Constantinople when last I was at Florence? and, not contented with
that vile treachery, even plotted with his accomplice Venturo against my life.”

“Vengeance, then, upon our
enemies, Demetrius!” exclaimed Nisida. “And this is how our aims shall be
accomplished,” she continued, in a lower and less excited tone: “The ambitious
views of Ibrahim Pasha must experience a signal defeat; and as he is too
powerful to be personally injured by us, we must torture his soul by crushing
his relations—we must punish him
 
 through
the medium of his sister and his aunt. This evening I had a long discourse with
Dr. Duras, who is devoted to my interests, and over whom I wield a wondrous
power of persuasion. He has undertaken to induce his brother, Angelo Duras, to
abandon the cause of the Francatellis; and the inquisition will, therefore,
deal with them as it lists. Father Marco I can also manage as I will; he understands
the language in which the deaf and dumb converse, for he has so long been
confessor to our family. To-morrow I will undertake to send him to Rome on some
charitable mission connected with the church. Thus the only persons whom you
secured when last you were in Florence, in the interests of the Francatellis,
will cease to watch over them; and, as they are accused of being accomplices in
the sacrilege perpetrated in the Carmelite Convent, naught will save them from
the flames of the
 
auto-da-fe
.”

“Oh! spirit of the murdered
Calanthe,” exclaimed Demetrius, with savage joy, “thou wilt be avenged yet! And
thou, false vizier, shalt writhe in the flames at the stake!”

“Now, as for Antonio, and the
rest of the banditti who stormed the convent and gave freedom to the hated
Flora—who have likewise captured my brother—and who have so long been a terror
to Florence,” continued Nisida; “we must annihilate them all at one blow; not a
soul of the gang must be spared!”

Nisida knew full well that at
least some of the banditti were acquainted with the fact that she was the
murderess of Agnes, and that they could also tell an awkward tale of how she
sought to bribe them to rescue Fernand Wagner in case of an adverse judgment on
the part of the criminal tribunal. The total annihilation of the horde was
consequently the large aim at which she aspired, and her energetic mind shrunk
not from any difficulties that might appear in the way toward the execution of
that object.