Valperga (60 page)

The gaoler of the prison, who was the same that had besought her
to come and comfort poor Beatrice, received her with a sorrowful
countenance, and led her to his most decent apartment, high in the
tower, that overlooked the rest of the building. There she was left
alone to ruminate on her fortunes, and to imbue herself with that
fortitude, which might carry her with honour through the trials
that awaited her. The circumstance that pressed most painfully upon
her, was the death which her associates must suffer. She tried to
forget herself; she did not fear death; she did not expect it at
the hands of Castruccio; and her expectations and ideas were too
vague to permit her to dread much the coming events as they
regarded her. The window of her prison-chamber was not grated, and
from it she could survey the neighbouring country. A thousand
feelings passed through her mind, and she could put no order in her
thoughts. Sleep refused to visit her; but her reflections became
peaceful, and full of pleasant images and recollections.

Morning succeeded to a winter's night. It was clear, and
sunshiny, but cold. The cheering beams poured into her room; she
looked upon the azure sky, and the flock of giant mountains which
lay crouching around, with a strange pleasure. She felt as if she
saw them for the last time, but as if she were capable of enjoying
until the latest moment those pleasures which nature had ever
conferred upon her. She repeated some of Dante's verses where
he describes in such divine strains the solemn calm and celestial
beauty of paradise. "When will it be my lot to wander there
also," she said, "when shall I enjoy the windless air,
and flower-starred meadows of that land?"

Thus the whole day passed; but it was quickly dark; and she, who
had watched for two nights, and was now quite overcome, looking out
once upon the evening star, that star she had ever loved, and which
was ever to her as the good genius of the world watching his
children in their repose, repeated the Catholic ejaculation,
"Stella, alma, benigna, ora pro nobis!" then, crossing
herself, she lay down to rest, and quickly slept, as peacefully and
happily, as a babe rocked in its mother's arms.

A LITTLE before midnight Euthanasia's prison-chamber was
unlocked, and the gaoler entered, with a lamp in his hand,
accompanied by one of majestic figure, and a countenance beautiful,
but sad, and tarnished by the expression of pride that animated it.
"She sleeps," whispered the gaoler. His companion raised
his finger in token of silence; and, taking the lamp from the
man's hand, approached her mattress which was spread upon the
floor, and, kneeling down beside it, earnestly gazed upon that face
he had known so well in happier days. She made an uneasy motion, as
if the lamp which he held disturbed her; he placed it on the
ground, and shaded it with his figure; while, by the soft light
that fell upon her, he tried to read the images that were working
in her mind.

She appeared but slightly altered since he had first seen her.
If thought had drawn some lines in her brow, the intellect which
its beautiful form expressed, effaced them to the eye of the
spectator: her golden hair fell over her face and neck: he gently
drew it back, while she smiled in her sleep; her smile was ever
past description lovely, and one might well exclaim with Dante

Quel, ch'ella par quando un poco sorride.

Non si puo dicer, ne tenere a mente;

Si è nuovo miracolo, e gentile.

He gazed on her long; her white arm lay on her black dress, and
he imprinted a sad kiss upon it; she awoke, and saw Castruccio
gazing upon her.

She started up; "What does this mean?" she cried.

His countenance, which had softened as he looked upon her, now
reassumed its severe expression. "Madonna," he replied,
"I come to take you from this place."

She looked on him, endeavouring to read his purpose in his eyes;
but she saw there no explanation of her doubts:--"And whither
do you intend to lead me?"

"That you will know hereafter."

She paused; and he added with a disdainful smile, "The
countess of Valperga need not fear, while I have the power to
protect her, the fate she prepared for me."

"What fate?"

"Death."

He spoke in an under tone, but with one of those modulations of
voice, which, bringing to her mind scenes of other days, was best
fitted to make an impression upon her. She replied almost
unconsciously--"I did not prepare death for you; God is my
witness!"

"Well, Madonna, we will not quarrel about words; or, like
lawyers, clothe our purposes in such a subtle guise, that it might
deceive all, if truth did not destroy the spider's web. I come
to lead you from prison."

"Not thus, my lord, not thus will I be saved. I disdain any
longer to assert my intentions, since I am not believed. But am I
to be liberated alone; or are my friends included in your merciful
intentions?"

"Your friends are too dangerous enemies of the
commonwealth, to be rescued from the fate that awaits them. Your
sex, perhaps the memory of our ancient friendship, plead for you;
and I do not think that it accords with your wisdom to make
conditions with one who has the power to do that which best pleases
him."

"And yet I will not yield; I will not most unworthily
attend to my own safety, while my associates die. No, my lord, if
they are to be sacrificed, the addition of one poor woman will add
little to the number of your victims; and I cannot consent to
desert them."

"How do you desert them? You will never see or hear of them
more, or they of you. But this is trifling; and my moments are
precious."

"I will not--I dare not follow you. My heart, my conscience
tell me to remain. I must not disobey their voice."

"Is your conscience so officious now, and did it say
nothing, or did your heart silence it, when you plotted my
destruction?"

"Castruccio, this I believe is the last time that I shall
ever speak to you. Our hearts are in the hands of the father of
all; and he sees my thoughts. You know me too well, to believe that
I plotted your death, or that of any human creature. Now is not the
time to explain my motives and plans: but my earnest prayer was
that you might live; my best hope, to make that life less
miserable, less unworthy, than it had hitherto been."

She spoke with deep earnestness; and there was something in her
manner, as if the spirit of truth animated all her accents, that
compelled assent. Castruccio believed all; and he spoke in a milder
and more persuasive manner; "Poor Euthanasia! so you were at
last cajoled by that arch-traitor, Bondelmonti. Well, I believe,
and pardon all; but, as the seal of the purity of your intentions,
I now claim your consent to my offers of safety."

"I cannot, indeed I cannot, consent. Be merciful; be
magnanimous; and pardon all, banish us all where our discontent
cannot be dangerous to you. But to desert my friends, and basely to
save that life you deny to them, I never can."

The gaoler, who had hitherto stood in the shade near the door,
could no longer contain himself. He knelt to Euthanasia, and
earnestly and warmly intreated her to save herself, and not with
wilful presumption to cast aside those means which God had brought
about for her safety. "Remember," he cried, "your
misfortunes will be on the prince's head; make him not answer
for you also. Oh! lady, for his sake, for all our sakes,
yield."

Castruccio was much moved to see the warmth of this man. He took
the hand of Euthanasia, he also knelt: "Yes, my only and
dearest friend, save yourself for my sake. Yield, beloved
Euthanasia, to my intreaties. Indeed you will not die; for you well
know that your life is dearer to me than my own. But yield to my
request, by our former loves, I intreat; by the prayers which you
offer up for my salvation, I conjure you as they shall be heard, so
also hear me!"

The light of the solitary lamp fell full upon the countenance of
Castruccio: it was softened from all severity; his eyes glistened,
and a tear stole silently down his cheek as he prayed her to yield.
They talk of the tears of women; but, when they flow most
plenteously, they soften not the heart of man, as one tear from his
eyes has power on a woman. Words and looks have been feigned; they
say, though I believe them not, that women have feigned tears: but
those of a man, which are ever as the last demonstration of a too
full heart, force belief, and communicate to her who causes them,
that excess of tenderness, that intense depth of passion, of which
they are themselves the sure indication.

Euthanasia had seen Castruccio weep but once before; it was many
years ago, when he departed for the battle of Monte Catini; and he
then sympathized too deeply in her sorrows, not to repay her much
weeping with one most true and sacred tear. And now this scene was
present before her; the gap of years remained unfilled; and she had
consented to his request, before she again recalled her thoughts,
and saw the dreary prison--chamber, the glimmering lamp, and the
rough form of the gaoler who knelt beside Antelminelli. Her consent
was scarcely obtained, when Castruccio leapt up, and, bidding her
wrap her capuchin about her, led her by the hand down the steep
prison--stairs, while the gaoler went before them, and unlocked,
and drew back the bolts of, the heavy, creaking doors.

At the entrance of the prison they found a man on horseback
holding two other horses. It was Mordecastelli. Castruccio assisted
Euthanasia to mount, and then sprang on his own saddle; they walked
their horses to a gate of the town which was open;--they proceeded
in silence;--at the gate Castruccio said to his
companion--"Here leave us; I shall speedily return."

Vanni then turned his horse's head, slightly answering the
salute of Euthanasia, which she had involuntarily made at parting
for ever with one who had been her intimate acquaintance. A
countryman was waiting on horseback outside the gate: "You are
our guide?" said Castruccio. "Lead on then."

It was a frosty, cloudless night; there was no moon, but the
stars shone intensely above; the bright assemblage seemed to
congregate from the far wastes of heaven, and to press in
innumerable clusters upon the edge of the visible atmosphere, to
gaze upon the strange earth beneath. The party passed out of the
city of Lucca by the Pisan gate, and at first put their horses to a
gallop. As they approached the hills, Castruccio came up beside
Euthanasia; they slackened their speed; she spoke thus:

"I have acceded to your request, and left the prison;
indeed it were useless in me to resist one who possesses the
absolute power that you do. But I intreat you now that I see you
for the last time, to have pity on my companions in this
conspiracy. I can think only of them; and if I am to live--if ever
I am again to hear of the events which will pass within the walls
of that town, reflect on the sharp pang you will inflict upon me,
if I hear of their destruction."

"Madonna," replied the prince, "I will do that
which I consider my duty: and let not these our last moments be
employed in fruitless discussion."

Euthanasia felt that it was in vain to speak. Her confederates,
her friends, who were reserved instantly to die, stood in funereal
group before the eye of her soul; her imagination made present to
her all that they thought, and all that they were to suffer. She
looked upon Castruccio; she saw that he was moulded of an
impenetrable substance: her heart swelled to the confines of her
bosom, and forbade her such degradation to the assured victims, as
would be implied in her uttering one further word in their behalf
to the unhearing, unrelenting being that stood before her.
Castruccio continued:

"You are about to leave Tuscany, and to take up your abode
in a foreign land. You are still young. I send you from your native
country; but you may at a future period confess that I have done
you a kindness. You have hitherto mingled in the embroiled politics
of a republic, and seen conspiracies, heart--burnings, and
war."

Euthanasia felt herself unable to reply.

They had crossed the plain of Lucca, and were arrived beneath
those hills, which, crowned with towers, and clothed with deep
forests, were the beautiful romantic steeps that she best loved.
They struck off here from the usual road, and, fording the Serchio,
began to ascend the acclivities on the opposite side, proceeding
one by one up the narrow path. At length they reached the summit,
and viewed, stretched before them beneath the stars of night, a
scene of enchanting beauty. The plain they had just crossed was
dimly seen beneath, bounded by its hills; before them was another
plain, desert and barren, through which the Serchio flows, bounded
by the dark line of the sea; and the Lago di Macciucoli, a marshy
lake, was close beneath.

"Here I leave you," said Castruccio: "there is
your destination," and he pointed to the sea; "remember
one with whom you have passed your happiest days."

He took her hand, and kissed it. Her feelings were strange, and
hardly to be described. She could not entirely forget what he had
once been to her. She could at that moment have overlooked his
tyranny, his lawless ambition, and his cruelty. But, no; the moment
itself was a bane to oblivion. She could have forgotten his past
cruelties, but not those which were immediately to be perpetrated,
to be perpetrated on individuals who had been united with her in a
plot for liberty, and some of whom her name and her countenance had
perhaps prompted to the desperate undertaking, and egged on to
destruction.

Castruccio spoke to the guide, recommending haste as soon as
they should reach the plain, and then turned his horse's head.
Euthanasia and her conductor paused on the summit of the hill; and
she heard the steps of Castruccio's horse, as it made its way
back through the tangled underwood. Then she also began her descent
on the other side.