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) (62 page)

“Nisida,” said Francisco, bending
over his sister, and speaking in a voice indicative of deep emotion, “the kind
words you utter to my beloved Flora shall ever—ever remain engraven upon my
heart.”

“And on mine also,” murmured the
young countess, pressing Nisida’s hand with grateful ardor, while her eyes,
radiant with very softness, threw a glance of passionate tenderness upon her
generous-hearted and handsome husband.

“Listen to me,” resumed Nisida,
after a short pause, during which she gave way to all the luxury of those sweet
and holy reflections which the present scene engendered: and these were the
happiest moments of the lady’s stormy life. “Listen to me,” she repeated; “and
let me enter upon and make an end of my explanations as speedily as possible.
And first, Francisco, relative to our sainted—our innocent—our deeply-wronged
and much-injured mother. You have already learned that she was the daughter of
the public executioner of Naples; and you have heard that ere she became our
father’s wife she swore a solemn oath—she pledged herself in the most solemn
manner that she would never even allude to her family—that she would not
communicate to them the name of her husband nor the place of his abode, under
any circumstances—in a word, that she would consider her father and brother as
dead to her! And yet she had a tender heart; and after she became the Countess
of Riverola she very often thought of the parent who had reared her tenderly
and loved her affectionately; she thought also of her brother Eugenio, who had
ever been so devoted to his sister. But she kept her promise faithfully for
five years; until that fatal day of April, 1500, which our father has so
emphatically mentioned in his narrative. It was in the garden belonging to the
ducal palace that she suddenly encountered her brother Eugenio——”

“Her brother!” ejaculated
Francisco, joyfully. “Oh! I knew, I felt certain that she was innocent.”

“Yes, she was indeed innocent,”
repeated Nisida, “But let me pursue my explanations as succinctly as possible.
It appeared that the old man—the executioner of Naples—was no more; and
Eugenio, possessing himself of the hoardings of his deceased father, had fled
from his native city to avoid the dread necessity of assuming the abhorrent
office. Accident led the young adventurer to Florence in search of a more
agreeable employment as a means whereby to earn his livelihood, and having
formed the acquaintance of one of the duke’s valets, he obtained admittance to
the gardens on that memorable evening when the grand entertainment was given.
In spite of the strict injunctions he had received not to approach the places
occupied by the distinguished guests, he drew near the arbor in which our
mother had been conversing with other ladies, but where she was at that moment
alone. The recognition was immediate, and they flew into each other’s arms. It
would have been useless, as well as unnatural, for our mother to have refused
to reveal
 
 her rank and
name; her brilliant attire was sufficient to convince her brother that the
former was high, and inquiry would speedily have made him acquainted with the
latter. She accordingly drew him apart into a secluded walk and told him all;
but she implored him to quit Florence without delay, and she gave him her purse
and one of her rich bracelets, thereby placing ample resources at his disposal.
Five years passed away, and during that period she heard no more of her brother
Eugenio. But at the expiration of that interval she received a note stating
that he was again in Florence—that necessity had alone brought him hither, and
that he would be at a particular place at a certain hour to meet either herself
or some confidential person whom she might instruct to see him. Our mother
filled a bag with gold, and put into it some of her choicest jewels, and thus
provided, she repaired in person to the place of appointment. It grieved her
generous heart thus to be compelled to meet her brother secretly, as if he were
a common robber or a midnight bravo; but for her husband’s peace, and in
obedience to the spirit of the oath which imperious circumstances had alone led
her in some degree to violate, she was forced to adopt that sad and humiliating
alternative.”

“Alas! poor mother!” sobbed
Francisco, deeply affected by this narrative.

“Again did five years elapse
without bringing tidings to our mother of Eugenio,” continued Nisida, “and then
he once more set foot in Florence. The world bad not used him well—Fortune had
frowned upon him—and, though a young man of fine spirit and noble disposition,
he failed in all his endeavors to carve out a successful career for himself.
Our mother determined to accord him an interview in her own apartment. She
longed to converse with him at her ease—to hear his tale from his own lips—to
sympathize with and console him. Oh! who could blame her if in so doing she
departed from the strict and literal meaning of that vow which had bound her to
consider her relations as dead to her? But the fault—if fault it were—was so
venial, that to justify it is to invest it with an importance which it would
not have possessed save for the frightful results to which it led. You have
already heard how foully he was waylaid, how ruthlessly he was murdered! Holy
Virgin! my brain whirls when I reflect upon that hideous cruelty which made our
mother the spectator of his dissection; for, even had he been a lover—even were
she guilty—even if the suspicions of our father had all been well-founded——”

“Dwell not upon this frightful
topic, my beloved Nisida!” exclaimed Francisco, perceiving that she was again
becoming greatly excited, for her eyes dilated and glared wildly, her bosom
heaved in awful convulsions, and she tossed her arms frantically about.

“No, I will not—I dare not pause
to ponder thereon,” she said, falling back upon the pillow, and pressing her
hands to that proud and haughty brow behind which the active, racking brain
appeared to be on fire.

“Tranquilize yourself, dearest
sister,” murmured Flora, bending
 
 over
the couch and pressing her lips on Nisida’s burning cheek.

“I will, I will, Flora, whom I
now love as much as I once hated!” exclaimed the dying lady. “But let me make
an end of my explanations. You already know that our dear mother was gagged
when she was compelled to witness the horrible deeds enacted in the
subterranean charnel-house by the dim light of a sickly lamp; but even if she
had not been, no word would have issued from her lips, as the manuscript justly
observes. During her illness, however, she sought an interview with her husband
for the purpose of proving to him her complete innocence, by revealing the fact
that his victim was her own brother! But he refused all the entreaties
proffered with that object, and our unfortunate mother was forced to
contemplate the approach of death with the sad conviction that she should pass
away without the satisfaction of establishing her guiltlessness in the eyes of
our father. Then was it that she revealed everything to me—to me alone—to me, a
young girl of only fifteen when those astounding facts were breathed into my
ears. I listened with horror, and I began to hate my father, for I adored my
mother. She implored me not to give way to any intemperate language or burst of
passion which might induce the inmates of the mansion to suspect that I was the
depositary of some terrible secret.

“‘For,’ said our mother, when on
her death-bed, ‘if I have ventured to shock your young mind by so appalling a
revelation, it is only that you may understand wherefore I am about to bind you
by a solemn vow to love, protect, and watch over Francisco, as if he were your
own child, rather than your brother. His father, alas! hates him. This I have
observed ever since the birth of that dear boy, but it is only by means of the
dread occurrence of the other night that I have been able to divine the origin
of that dislike and unnatural loathing. Your father, Nisida,’ continued my
mother, ‘believes that I have been unfaithful, and suspects that Francisco is
the offspring of a guilty
 
amour
. With this terrible
impression upon his mind, he may persecute my poor boy; he may disinherit him;
he may even seek to rid him of life. Kneel, then, by my bedside, Nisida, and
swear by all you deem sacred—by the love you bear for me—and by your hopes of
salvation, that you will watch unweariedly and unceasingly over the welfare and
the interests of Francisco—that you will make any sacrifice, incur any danger,
or undergo any privation, to save him from the effects of his father’s
hate—that you will exert all possible means to cause the title and fortune of
his father to descend to him, and that you will in no case consent to supplant
him in those respects—and lastly, that you will keep secret the dread history
of my brother’s fate and your knowledge of your father’s crime.’ To all these
conditions of the vow I solemnly and sacredly pledged myself, calling Heaven to
witness the oath. But I said to our mother, ‘My father will not forever remain
locked up in his own apartment; he will come forth sooner or later, and I must
have an opportunity of speaking to him. May I not justify you,
 
 my dear mother, in his eyes? May
I not assure him that Eugenio was your brother? He will then cease to hate
Francisco, and may even love him as he loves me; and you may then have no fears
on his account.”

“‘Alas! the plan which you
suggest may not be put into execution,’ replied our dying mother; ‘for were
your father to be aware that I had revealed the occurrences of that dread night
to you, Nisida, he would feel that he must be ever looked upon as a murderer by
his own child! Moreover, such appears to be the sad and benighted state of his
mind, that he might peradventure deem the tale relative to Eugenio a mere
excuse and vile subterfuge. No; I must perish disgraced in his eyes, unless he
should accord ere I die, the interview which yourself and the good Dr. Duras
have so vainly implored him to grant me.’

“Our dear mother then proceeded
to give me other instructions, Francisco, relative to yourself; but these,”
added Nisida, glancing toward Flora, “would
 
now
 
be painful to unfold. And yet,” she
continued, hastily, as a second thought struck her, “it is impossible, my sweet
Flora, that you can be weak-minded—for you have this day seen and heard enough
to test your mental powers to the extreme possibility of their endurance.
Moreover, I feel that my conduct toward you requires a complete justification;
and that justification will be found in the last instructions which I received
from the lips of my mother.”

“Dearest Nisida,” said the young
countess, “no justification is needed—no apology is required in reference to
that subject; for your kind words, your altered manner toward me now, your
recognition of me as a sister, made so by union with your brother—oh! this
would efface from my mind wrongs ten thousand times more terrible than any
injury which I have sustained at your hands. But,” continued Flora, in a slow
and gentle tone, “if you wish to explain the nature of these instructions which
you received from the lips of your dying parent, let not my presence embarrass
you.”

“Yes, I do wish to render my
explanation as complete as possible, dearest Flora,” replied Nisida; “for if I
have acted severely toward you, it was not to gratify any natural love of
cruelty, nor any mean jealousy or spite; on the contrary, the motives were
engendered by that imperious necessity which has swayed my conduct, modeled my
disposition, and regulated my mind ever since that fatal day when I knelt
beside my mother’s death-bed, and swore to obey her last words. For thus did
she speak, Flora—‘Nisida, there is one more subject relative to which I must
advise you, and in respect to which you must swear to obey me. My own life
furnished a sad and terrible lesson of the impropriety of contracting an
unequal marriage. All my woes—all my sorrows—all the dreadful events which have
occurred—may be traced to the one great fact that the Count of Riverola
espoused a person of whose family he was ashamed. Nisida,’ she continued, her
voice becoming fainter and fainter, ‘watch you narrowly and closely over the
welfare of Francisco in this respect. Let him not marry beneath him; let him not
unite himself to one whose family contains a single member deserving
 
 obloquy or reproach. Above all,
see that he marries not till he shall have reached an age when he will be
capable of examining his own heart through the medium of experience and matured
judgment. If you see him form a boyish attachment of which you have good and
sufficient reason to disapprove, exert yourself to wean him from it: hesitate
not to thwart him; be not moved by the sorrows he may manifest at the moment;
you will be acting for his welfare; and the time will speedily come when he
will rejoice that you have rescued him from the danger of contracting a hasty,
rash, and ill-assorted marriage.’ These were the last instructions of our
mother, Francisco; and I swore to obey them. Hence my sorrow, my fears, my
anger when I became aware of the attachment subsisting between yourself, dear
brother, and you, my sweet Flora: and that sorrow was enhanced—those fears were
augmented—that danger was increased, Flora, when I learnt that your brother
Alessandro had renounced the creed of the true God, and that your family
thereby contained a member deserving of obloquy and reproach. But that sorrow,
those fears, and that anger have now departed from my soul. I recognize the
finger of Heaven—the will of the Almighty in the accomplishment of your union,
despite of all my projects, all my intrigues to prevent it. I am satisfied,
moreover, that there is in this alliance a fitness and a propriety which will
insure your happiness: and may the spirit of my sainted mother look down from
the empyrean palace where she dwells, and bless you both, even as I now implore
the divine mercy to shed its beauties and diffuse its protecting influence
around you.”