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) (63 page)

Nisida had raised herself up to a
sitting posture as she uttered this invocation so sublimely interesting and
solemnly sincere; and the youthful pair, simultaneously yielding to the same
impulse, sank upon their knees to receive the blessing of one who had never
bestowed a blessing on mortal being until then! She extended her hands above
those two beautiful, bending heads: and her voice, as she adjured Heaven to
protect them, was plaintively earnest and tremulously clear, and its musical
sound seemed to touch the finest chord of sympathy, devotion, and love that vibrated
in the hearts of that youthful noble and his virgin bride. When this solemn
ceremony was accomplished, an immense weight appeared to have been removed from
the soul of the Lady Nisida of Riverola; and her countenance wore a calm and
sweet expression, which formed a happy contrast with the sovereign hauteur and
grand contempt that were wont to mark it.

“I have now but little more to
say in explanation of my past conduct,” she resumed, after a long pause. “You
can readily divine wherefore I affected the loss of those most glorious
faculties which God has given me. I became enthusiastic in my resolves to carry
out the injunctions of my dear and much-loved mother; and while I lay upon a
bed of sickness—a severe illness produced by anguish and horror at all I had
heard from her lips, and by her death, so premature and sad—I pondered a
thousand schemes, the object of which was to accomplish the great aims I
 
 had in view. I foresaw that I—a
weak woman—then, indeed, a mere girl of fifteen—should have to constitute
myself the protectress of a brother who was hated by his own father; and I
feared lest that hatred should drive him to the adoption of some dreadful plot
to rid himself of your presence, Francisco—perhaps even to deprive you of your
life. I knew that I must watch all his movements and listen to all his
conversations with those unprincipled wretches who are ever ready to do the
bidding of the powerful and the wealthy. But how was all this to be
accomplished?—how was I to become a watcher and a listener—a spy ever active,
and an eavesdropper ever awake—without exciting suspicions which would lead to
the frustration of my designs, and perhaps involve both myself and my brother
in ruin? Then was it that an idea struck me like a flash of lightning; and like
a flash of lightning was it terrible and appalling, when breaking on the dark
chaos of my thoughts. At first I shrank from it—recoiled from it in horror and
dismay;—but the more I considered it—the longer I looked that idea in the
face—the more I contemplated it, the less formidable did it seem. I have
already said that I was enthusiastic and devoted in my resolves to carry out
the dying injunctions of my mother:—and thus by degrees I learnt to reflect
upon the awful sacrifice which had suggested itself to my imagination as a
species of holy and necessary self-martyrdom. I foresaw that if I affected the
loss of hearing and speech, I should obtain all the advantages I sought and all
the means I required to enable me to act as the protectress of my brother against
the hatred of my father. I believed also that I should not only be considered
as unfit to be made the heiress of the title and fortune of the Riverola
family, but that our father, Francisco, would see the absolute necessity of
treating you in all respects as his lawful and legitimate son, in spite of any
suspicions which he might entertain relative to your birth. There were many
other motives which influenced me, and which arose out of the injunctions of
our mother,—motives which you can well understand, and which I need not detail.
Thus it was that, subduing the grief which the idea of making so tremendous a
sacrifice excited, on the one hand—and arming myself with the exultation of a
martyr, on the other,—thus it was that I resolved to simulate the character of
the deaf and dumb. It was, however, necessary to obtain the collusion of Dr.
Duras; and this aim I carried after many hours of argument and persuasion. He
was then ignorant—and still is ignorant—of the real motives which had prompted
me to this self-martyrdom;—but I led him to believe that the gravest and most
important family interests required that moral immolation of my own
happiness;—and I vowed that unless he would consent to aid me, it was my firm
resolve to shut myself up in a convent and take the veil. This threat, which I
had not the least design of carrying into effect, induced him to yield a
reluctant acquiescence with my project: for he loved me as if I had been his
child. He was moreover consoled somewhat by the assurance which I gave him, and
in which I myself felt implicit confidence at the time, that the necessity for
the simulation of deafness
 
 and
dumbness on my part would cease the moment my father should be no more. In a
word, the kind Dr. Duras promised to act entirely in accordance with my wishes;
and I accordingly became Nisida the deaf and dumb!”

“Merciful heavens! that
immeasurable sacrifice was made for me!” cried Francisco, throwing himself into
the arms of his sister and imprinting a thousand kisses on her cheeks.

“Yes—for your sake and in order
to carry out the dying commands of our mother, the sainted Vitangela?”
responded Nisida. “I shall not weary you with a description of the feelings and
emotions with which I commenced that long career of duplicity; by the very success
that attended the part which I had undertaken to perform you may estimate the
magnitude and the extent of the exertions which it cost me thus to maintain
myself a living—a constant—and yet undetected lie! Ten years passed away—ten
years, marked by many incidents which made me rejoice, for your sake,
Francisco, that I had accepted the self-martyrdom which circumstances had
suggested to me. At length our father lay upon his death bed: and then—oh! then
I rejoiced—yes, rejoiced, though he was dying; for I thought that the end of my
career of duplicity was at hand. Judge, then, of my astonishment—my grief—my
despair, when I heard the last injunctions which our father addressed to you,
Francisco, on that bed of death. What could the mystery of the closet mean? Of
that I
 
then
 
knew nothing. Wherefore was I to
remain in complete ignorance of the instructions thus given to you? And what
was signified by the words relative to the disposal of our father’s property?
For you may remember that he spoke thus, addressing himself of course to
you:—‘You will find that I have left the whole of my property to you. At the
same time my will specifies certain conditions relative to your sister Nisida,
for whom I have made due provision only in the case—which is, alas! almost in
defiance of every hope!—of her recovery from that dreadful affliction which
renders her so completely dependent upon your kindness.’ These ominous and
mysterious words seemed to proclaim defeat and overthrow to all the hopes that
I had formed relative to the certainty of your being left the sole and
unconditional heir alike to title and estate. I therefore resolved to maintain
the character of the deaf and dumb until I should have fathomed the secrets of
the closet, and have become acquainted with the conditions of the will. Oh!
well do I remember the glance which the generous-hearted Duras cast toward me,
when, returning to the chamber, he inquired by means of that significant look
whether the last words of our dying father were prognostic of hope for me—whether,
indeed, the necessity of sustaining the dreadful duplicity would cease when he
should be no more. And I remember, also, that the look and the sign, by which I
conveyed a negative answer were expressive of the deep melancholy that filled
his soul.”

“Alas! my dear self-sacrificed
sister,” murmured Francisco, tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Yes—my disappointment was cruel
indeed,” continued Nisida. “But the excitement of the scenes and incidents
which
 
 followed rapidly the
death of our father, restored my mind to its wonted tone of fortitude, vigor,
and proud determination. That very night, Francisco, I took the key of the
cabinet from your garments, while you slept—I sped to the chamber of death—I
visited the depository of horrible mysteries—and for the first time I became
aware that two skeletons were contained in that closet! And whose fleshless
relics those skeletons were, the dreadful manuscript speedily revealed to me.
Then was it also for the first time that I learnt how Margaretha was the detestable
spy whose agency had led to such a frightful catastrophe in respect to Eugenio
and Vitangela; then I became aware that our mother’s corpse slept not in the
vault to which a coffin had been consigned:—in a word, the full measure of our
sire’s atrocity—O God! that I should be compelled thus to speak—was revealed to
me! But on Margaretha have I been avenged,” added Nisida, in a low tone, and
with a convulsive shudder produced by the recollection of that terrible night
when she immolated the miserable woman above the grave where lay a portion of
the remains of her mother and of Eugenio.

“You have been avenged on
Margaretha, sister,” ejaculated Francisco, surveying Nisida with apprehension.

“Yes,” she replied, her large
black eyes flashing with a scintillation of the former fires: “that woman—I
have slain her! But start not, Flora—look not reproachfully upon me, Francisco:
’twas a deed fully justified, a vengeance righteously exercised, a penalty well
deserved! And now let me hasten to bring my long and tedious explanations to a
conclusion—for they have occupied a longer space than I had at first
anticipated, and I am weak and faint. Little, however, remains to be told. The
nature of our father’s will compelled me to persist in my self-martyrdom: for I
had sworn to my dying mother not to accept any conditions or advantages which
should have the effect of disinheriting you, Francisco.”

“Oh! what a debt of gratitude do
I owe thee, my beloved sister!” exclaimed the young count, deeply affected by
the generous sacrifices made by Nisida on his behalf.

“And think you I have experienced
no reward?” asked the lady in a sweet tone, and with a placid smile: “do you
imagine that the consciousness of having devoted myself to the fulfillment of
my adored mother’s wishes has been no recompense? Yes—I have had my
consolations and my hours of happiness, as well as my sufferings and periods of
profound affliction. But I feel a soft and heavenly repose stealing over
me—’tis a sweet sleep, and yet it is not the slumber of death! No, no; ’tis a
delicious trance into which I am falling—’tis as if a celestial vision——”

She said no more. Her eyes
closed, she fell back and slept soundly.

“Merciful Heavens! my sister is
no more!” exclaimed Francisco, in terror and despair.

“Fear not, my beloved husband,”
said Flora; “Nisida sleeps, and ’tis a healthy slumber. The pulsations of her
heart are regular;
 
 her
breath comes freely. Joy, joy, Francisco, she will recover!”

“The Holy Virgin grant that your
hope may be fulfilled!” returned the young count. “But let us not disturb her.
We will sit down by the bedside, Flora, and watch till she shall awake.”

But scarcely had he uttered these
words when the door of the chamber opened, and an old man of venerable
appearance, and with a long beard as white as snow, advanced toward the newly
married pair.

Francisco and Flora beheld him
with feelings of reverence and awe, for something appeared to tell them that he
was a mortal of no common order.

“My dear children,” he said,
addressing them in a paternal manner, and his voice firm, but mild, “ye need
not watch here for the present. Retire, and seek not this chamber again until
the morning of to-morrow. Fear nothing, excellent young man, for thou hast
borne arms in the cause of the cross. Fear nothing, amiable young lady, for
thou art attended by guardian angels.”

And as the venerable man thus
addressed them severally, he extended his hands to bless them; and they
received that blessing with holy meekness, and yet with a joyous feeling which
appeared to be of glorious augury for their future happiness. Then, obedient to
the command of the stranger, they slowly quitted the apartment—urged to yield
to his will by a secret influence which they could not resist, but which
nevertheless animated them with a pious confidence in the integrity of his
purpose. The door closed behind them, and Christian Rosencrux remained in the
room with the dead Wagner and the dying Nisida.

While
 
the incidents related in the last
few chapters were taking place at the Riverola Palace, the council of state had
assembled to receive the grand vizier, the mighty Ibrahim, who had signified
his intention of meeting that august body at three o’clock in the afternoon.
Accordingly, as soon as he had witnessed the marriage ceremony which united his
sister to the Count of Riverola, he returned from Wagner’s mansion to his own
pavilion in the midst of the Ottoman encampment. There he arrayed him in a
manner becoming his exalted rank, and mounting his splendid caparisoned steed,
he repaired with a brilliant escort to the ducal palace. The streets of the
city of Florence were thronged with multitudes eager to gain a sight of the
representative of the sultan—a view of the man whose will and pleasure swayed
the greatest empire in existence at that period of the world’s age!

And as Ibrahim passed through
those avenues so well known to him—threaded those thoroughfares, each feature
of which was so indelibly impressed upon his memory—and beheld many, many
familiar spots, all of which awakened in his mind reminiscences
 
 of a happy childhood, and of
years gone by; when, too, he reflected that he had quitted Florence poor,
obscure, and unmarked amidst the millions of his fellow-men; and that now, as
he entered the beauteous city, multitudes came forth to gaze upon him, as on
one invested with a high rank and enjoying a power mighty to do much; when he
thought of all this, his bosom swelled with mingled emotions of pride and
tenderness, regret and joy; and while tears trembled upon his long black lashes,
a smile of haughty triumph played on his lips. On, on the procession goes,
through the crowded streets and across the spacious squares, watched by the
eyes of transcendent beauty and proud aristocracy from the balconies of palaces
and the casements of lordly mansions; on, on, amidst a wondering and admiring
populace, and grateful, too, that so great a chief as Ibrahim should have
spared their city from sack and ruin.

At length the grand vizier,
attended by the great beglerbegs and pashas of his army, entered the square of
the ducal palace; and as his prancing steed bore him proudly beneath the
massive arch, the roar of artillery announced to the City of Flowers that the
Ottoman Minister was now within the precincts of the dwelling of the Florentine
sovereign. The duke and the members of the council of state were all assembled
in the court of the Palazzo to receive the illustrious visitor, who, having
dismounted from his horse, accompanied the prince and those high dignitaries to
the council-chamber. When the personages thus assembled had taken their seats
around the spacious table, covered with a rich red velvet cloth, the grand
vizier proceeded to address the duke and the councilors.

“High and mighty prince, and
noble and puissant lords,” he said, in the tone of one conscious of his power,
“I am well satisfied with the manner in which my demands have been fulfilled up
to this moment. Two ladies, in whom I feel a deep and sincere interest, and who
were most unjustly imprisoned to suit the vindictive purposes of the Count of
Arestino, have been delivered up to me: and ye have likewise agreed to make
full and adequate atonement for the part which Florence enacted in the late
contest between the Christians and Mussulmans in the Island of Rhodes. I have
therefore determined to reduce my demands upon the republic, for indemnity and
compensation, to as low a figure as my own dignity and a sense of that duty
which I owe to my sovereign (whom God preserve many days!) will permit. The sum
that I now require from your treasury, mighty prince and puissant lords, is a
hundred thousand pistoles; and in addition thereto, I claim peculiar privileges
for Ottoman vessels trading to Leghorn, guaranty of peace on the part of the
republic for three years, and the release of such prisoners now in the dungeons
of the inquisition, whom it may seem good to me thus to mark out as deserving
of your mercy.”

“A hundred thousand pistoles, my
lord, would completely exhaust the treasury of the republic,” said the duke,
with dismay pictured upon his countenance.

“Think you,” cried the grand
vizier, angrily, “that I shall dare to face my imperial master, on my return to
Constantinople,
 
 unless I be
able to lay at his feet a sum adequate to meet the expenses incurred by this
expedition of a great fleet and a powerful army?”

“Your highness will at least
accord us a few days wherein to obtain the amount required,” said the duke,
“for it will be necessary to levy a tax upon the republic!”

“I grant you until sunset, my
lord—until sunset this evening.” added the grand vizier, speaking with stern
emphasis. “And if you will permit me to tender my advice, you will at once
command the grand inquisitor and the Count of Arestino to furnish the sum
required: for the former, I am inclined to suspect, is a most unjust judge, and
the latter, I am well convinced, is a most cruel and revengeful noble.”

“The Count of Arestino is no
more, your highness,” answered the duke. “The Marquis of Orsini murdered him
before the very eyes of the grand inquisitor, and will therefore head the
procession of victims at the approaching
 
auto-da-fe
.”

“By the footstool of Allah! that
shall not be!” exclaimed Ibrahim. “The machinations of the Count of Arestino
threw into the inquisition dungeons those two ladies whom ye delivered up to me
last night; and it was my intention, when I spoke of releasing certain
prisoners ere now, to stipulate for the freedom of all those whom the vengeance
of that count has immured in your accursed prison-house. See then, my lords,
that all those of whom I speak be forthwith brought hither into our presence!”

It may be proper to inform the
reader that Flora had solicited her brother to save the Marquis of Orsini and
the Countess Giulia, to whom the young wife of Francisco had been indebted for
her escape from the Carmelite Convent; for, as the secrets of the torture
chamber were never suffered to transpire, she was of course ignorant of the
death of the guilty Giulia, and of the assassination of the Count of Arestino
by the Marquis of Orsini.

At the command of Ibrahim Pasha,
who spoke in a firm and resolute manner, the duke summoned a sentinel from the
corridor adjoining the council chamber, and issued the necessary orders to
fulfill the desire of the grand vizier. Nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed
during which one of the councilors drew up the guaranty of peace and of the
commercial privileges demanded by Ibrahim. At length the door opened, and
several familiars made their appearance, leading in Manuel d’Orsini and
Isaachar ben Solomon, both heavily chained. The former walked with head erect,
and proud bearing; the latter could scarcely drag his wasted, racked, and
tottering limbs along, and was compelled to hang upon the arms of the familiars
for support. Nevertheless, there was something so meek—so patient and so
resigned in the expression of the old and persecuted Israelite’s countenance,
that Ibrahim Pasha’s soul was touched with a sentiment of pity in his behalf.

“But these are not all the
prisoners,” exclaimed the grand vizier, turning angrily toward the duke; “where
is the Countess Giulia of Arestino?”

“My lord, she is no more,”
answered the prince.

 “And Heaven be thanked that
she is indeed no more!” cried Manuel d’Orsini, in a tone of mingled rage and
bitterness. “Fortunate is it for her that death has snatched her away from the
grasp of miscreants in human shape and who call themselves Christians. My
lord,” he continued, turning toward Ibrahim, “I know not who you are; but I
perceive by your garb that you are a Moslem, and I presume that your rank is high
by the title addressed to you by the duke——”

“Presume not thus to intrude your
observations on his highness the grand vizier!” exclaimed one of the councilors
in a severe tone.

“On the contrary,” said Ibrahim
Pasha, “let him speak, and without reserve. My Lord of Orsini, fear not—I will
protect you.”

“The remark I was about to make,
illustrious vizier,” cried Manuel, “is brief, though it may prove not palatable
to the patrons of the inquisition and the supporters of that awful engine of
despotism and cruelty,” he added, glancing fiercely at the duke and the
assembled councilors. “I was anxious to observe that the Christian Church has
founded and maintained that abhorrent institution; and that there is more true
mercy—more genuine sympathy—and more of the holy spirit of forgiveness in the
breast of this reviled, despised and persecuted Jew, than in the bosoms of all
the miserable hypocrites who have dared to sanction the infernal tortures which
have been inflicted upon him. For myself, I would not accept mercy at their
hands; and I would rather go in the companionship of this Jew to the funeral
pile, than remain alive to dwell amongst a race of incarnate fiends, calling
themselves Christians!”

“This insolence is not to be
borne,” exclaimed the duke, starting from his seat, his countenance glowing
with indignation.

“Your highness and all the
councilors now assembled well merit the reproaches of the Marquis of Orsini,”
said the grand vizier, sternly. “But it is for
 
me
 
to command here, and for
 
you
 
to obey, proud prince! Let the chains
be removed from those prisoners forthwith.”

The duke sank back in his chair,
and, subduing his rage as well as he was able, he made a sign to the familiars
to set the Jew and the marquis at liberty.

“Grand vizier,” exclaimed Manuel,
“the life and the liberty which, at your all-powerful nod are restored to me
will prove irksome and valueless if I be compelled to remain in a Christian
land. Confer not favors by halves, my lord—render me completely grateful to
you! Take me into your service—even as a slave, if your highness will; but let
me accompany to a Mussulman country a Mussulman who can teach the Christians
such a fine lesson of mercy and forgiveness.”

“You shall go with me to
Constantinople, Manuel—but not as a slave,” returned Ibrahim, profoundly
touched by the sincere tone and earnest manner of the young noble; “no—you
shall accompany me as a friend.”

“A thousand thanks, grand vizier,
for this kindness—this
 
 generosity!”
said the marquis, deeply affected; then as a sudden idea struck him, he turned
toward the Jew exclaiming, “But we must not leave this old man behind us.
’Twere the same as if we were to abandon a helpless child in the midst of a
forest inhabited by ferocious wolves.”

“Yes—yes—let me accompany you,
excellent young man!” murmured Isaachar, clinging to the arm of the marquis,
for their chains were now knocked off. “You were the first Christian who ever
spoke kindly to me; and I have no kith—no kindred on the face of the earth. I
am a lone—desolate old man; but I have wealth—much wealth, Manuel d’Orsini—and
all that I have shall be thine.”

“The Jew shall accompany us, my
lord,” said Ibrahim, addressing himself to the marquis; then, turning toward
the duke, he exclaimed in a severe tone, “But a few hours remain till sunset,
and the ransom of a hundred thousand pistoles must be paid to me; or I will
deliver up this proud palace and the homes of the councilors now assembled to
the pillage of my troops.”

“Nay—nay, my lord!” cried the
Jew, horror-struck at the threat; “bring not the terrors of sack, and storm,
and carnage into this fair city! A hundred thousand pistoles, your highness
says,—a hundred thousand pistoles,” he added, in a slower and more musing tone;
“’tis a large sum—a very large sum! And yet—to save so many men and their
innocent families from ruin—from desolation—— Yes, my lord,” he exclaimed,
hastily interrupting himself—“I—I will pay you the ransom-money.”

“No—by Allah!” ejaculated
Ibrahim; “not a single pistole shall be thus extorted from thee! Sooner shall the
Florentine Treasury grant thee an indemnification for the horrible tortures
which thou hast endured, than thy wealth be poured forth to furnish this
ransom-money. Come, my Lord of Orsini—come, worthy Jew,” continued the grand
vizier, rising from his seat, “we will depart to the Ottoman encampment.”

“Patience, your highness, for a
few hours,” urged the duke, “and the hundred thousand pistoles shall be counted
out before thee.”

“This poor man,” answered the
grand vizier, indicating the Jew with a rapid glance, “has been so racked and
tortured in your accursed prison-house, that he cannot be too speedily placed
under the care of my own chirurgeon. For this reason I depart at once; see that
the ransom be dispatched to my pavilion ere the sun shall have set behind the
western hills.”

With these words the grand vizier
bowed haughtily to the duke, and quitted the council chamber. Manuel d’Orsini
followed, supporting Isaachar ben Solomon; and, on reaching the court, one of
Ibrahim’s slaves took the Jew up behind him on his steed. The marquis was
provided with a horse; and the cavalcade moved rapidly away from the precincts
of the ducal palace. Profiting by the hint which Ibrahim Pasha had offered
them, the duke and the councilors instantly levied a heavy fine upon the grand
inquisitor; and the remainder of the money required to make up the amount
demanded, was furnished from
 
 the
public treasury. Thus by the hour of sunset the ransom was paid.