The Bravo of Venice Part 11

Now, then, she could not possibly retire immediately, unless she meant to violate every common principle of good breeding.

Her hand was still clasped in Flodoardo's; but it was so natural for him to take it, that she could not blame him for having done so.

But what was she next to do? Draw her hand away? Why should she, since he did her hand no harm by keeping it, and the keeping it seemed to make him so happy? And how could the gentle Rosabella resolve to commit an act of such unheard-of cruelty as wilfully to deprive any one of a pleasure which made him so happy, and which did herself no harm?

"Signora," said Flodoardo, merely for the sake of saying something, "you do well to enjoy the open air. The evening is beautiful."

"But I interrupt your studies, my lord," said Rosabella.

"By no means," answered Flodoardo; and there this interesting conversation came to a full stop. Both looked down; both examined the heaven and the earth, the trees and the flowers, in the hopes of finding some hints for renewing the conversation; but the more anxiously they sought them, the more difficult did it seem to find what they sought; and in this painful embarra.s.sment did two whole precious minutes elapse.

"Ah, what a beautiful flower!" suddenly cried Rosabella, in order to break the silence, then stooped and plucked a violet with an appearance of the greatest eagerness, though, in fact, nothing at that moment could have been more a matter of indifference.

"It is a very beautiful flower, indeed," gravely observed Flodoardo, and was out of all patience with himself for having made so flat a speech.

"Nothing can surpa.s.s this purple," continued Rosabella; "red and blue so happily blended, that no painter can produce so perfect a union."

"Red and blue--the one the symbol of happiness, the other of affection. Ah, Rosabella! how enviable will be that man's lot on whom your hand shall bestow such a flower. Happiness and affection are not more inseparably united than the red and blue which purple that violet."

"You seem to attach a value to the flower of which it is but little deserving."

"Might I but know on whom Rosabella will one day bestow what that flower expresses. Yet, this is a subject which I have no right to discuss. I know not what has happened to me to-day. I make nothing but blunders and mistakes. Forgive my presumption, lady. I will hazard such forward inquiries no more."

He was silent. Rosabella was silent also.

But though they could forbid their lips to betray their hidden affection; though Rosabella said not--"Thou art he on whom this flower shall be bestowed:" though Flodoardo's words had not expressed--"Rosabella, give me that violet, and that which it implies"--oh, their eyes were far from being silent. Those treacherous interpreters of secret feelings acknowledged more to each other than their hearts had yet acknowledged to themselves.

Flodoardo and Rosabella gazed on each other with looks which made all speech unnecessary. Sweet, tender, and enthusiastic was the smile which played around Rosabella's lips when her eyes met those of the youth whom she had selected from the rest of mankind; and with mingled emotions of hope and fear did the youth study the meaning of that smile. He understood it, and his heart beat louder, and his eye flamed brighter.

Rosabella trembled; her eyes could no longer sustain the fire of his glances, and a modest blush overspread her face and bosom.

"Rosabella!" at length murmured Flodoardo, unconsciously; "Flodoardo!" sighed Rosabella, in the same tone.

"Give me that violet!" he exclaimed, eagerly, then sank at her feet, and in a tone of the most humble supplication repeated, "Oh, give it to me!"

Rosabella held the flower fast.

"Ask for it what thou wilt. If a throne can purchase it, I will pay that price, or perish. Rosabella, give me that flower!"

She stole one look at the handsome suppliant and dared not hazard a second.

"My repose, my happiness, my life--nay, even my glory, all depend on the possession of that little flower. Let that be mine, and here I solemnly renounce all else which the world calls precious."

The flower trembled in her snowy hand. Her fingers clasped it less firmly.

"You hear me, Rosabella? I kneel at your feet; and am I then in vain a beggar?"

The word "beggar" recalled to her memory Camilla and her prudent counsels. "What am I doing?" she said to herself. "Have I forgotten my promise, my resolution? Fly, Rosabella, fly, or this hour makes you faithless to yourself and duty."

She tore the flower to pieces, and threw it contemptuously on the ground.

"I understand you, Flodoardo," said she; "and having understood you, will never suffer this subject to be renewed. Here let us part, and let me not again be offended by a similar presumption. Farewell!"

She turned from him with disdain, and left Flodoardo rooted to his place with sorrow and astonishment.

CHAPTER V: THE a.s.sa.s.sIN.

Scarcely had she reached her chamber ere Rosabella repented her having acted so courageously. It was cruel in her, she thought, to have given him so harsh an answer. She recollected with what hopeless and melancholy looks the poor thunderstruck youth had followed her steps as she turned to leave him. She fancied that she saw him stretched despairing on the earth, his hair dishevelled, his eyes filled with tears. She heard him term her the murderess of his repose, pray for death as his only refuge; and she saw him with every moment approach towards the attainment of his prayer through the tears which he shed on her account. Already she heard those dreadful words--"Flodoardo is no more." Already she saw the sympathising mult.i.tude weep round the tomb of him whom all the virtuous loved, and whom the wicked dreaded; whom all his friends adored, and whom even his enemies admired.

"Alas! alas!" cried she, "this was but a wretched attempt to play the heroine. Already does my resolution fail me. Ah, Flodoardo! I meant not what I said. I love you--love you now, and must love you always, though Camilla may chide, and though my good uncle may hate me."

In a few days after this interview she understood that an extraordinary alteration had taken place in Flodoardo's manner and appearance; that he had withdrawn himself from all general society; and that when the solicitations of his intimate friends compelled him to appear in their circle, his spirits seemed evidently depressed by the weight of an unconquerable melancholy.

This intelligence was like the stroke of a poniard to the feeling heart of Rosabella. She fled for shelter to the solitude of her chamber, there indulged her feelings without restraint, and lamented, with showers of repentant tears, her harsh treatment of Flodoardo.

The grief which preyed in secret on her soul soon undermined her health. No one could relieve her sufferings, for no one knew the cause of her melancholy, or the origin of her illness. No wonder, then, that Rosabella's situation at length excited the most bitter anxiety in the bosom of her venerable uncle. No wonder, too, that Flodoardo entirely withdrew himself from a world which was become odious to him, since Rosabella was to be seen in it no longer; and that he devoted himself in solitude to the indulgence of a pa.s.sion which he had vainly endeavoured to subdue, and which, in the impetuosity of its course, had already swallowed up every other wish, and every other sentiment.

But let us for the moment turn from the sick chamber of Rosabella, and visit the dwellings of the conspirators, who were now advancing with rapid strides towards the execution of their plans; and who, with every hour that pa.s.sed over their heads, became more numerous, more powerful, and more dangerous to Andreas and his beloved Republic.

Parozzi, Memmo, Contarino, Falieri, the chiefs of this desperate undertaking, now a.s.sembled frequently in the Cardinal Gonzaga's palace, where different plans for altering the const.i.tution of Venice were brought forward and discussed. But in all different schemes it was evident that the proposer was solely actuated by considerations of private interest. The object of one was to get free from the burden of enormous debts; another was willing to sacrifice everything to gratify his inordinate ambition. The cupidity of THIS man was excited by the treasures of Andreas and his friends; while THAT was actuated by resentment of some fancied offence, a resentment which could only be quenched with the offender's blood.

These execrable wretches, who aimed at nothing less than the total overthrow of Venice, or at least of her government, looked towards the completion of their extravagant hopes with the greater confidence, since a new but necessary addition to the already existing taxes had put the Venetian populace out of humour with their rulers.

Rich enough, both in adherents and in wealth, to realise their projects, rich enough in bold, shrewd, desperate men, whose minds were well adapted to the contrivance and execution of revolutionary projects, they now looked down with contempt upon the good old Doge, who as yet entertained no suspicion of their nocturnal meetings.

Still did they not dare to carry their projects into effect, till some princ.i.p.al persons in the State should be prevented by DEATH from throwing obstacles in their way. For the accomplishment of this part of their plan they relied on the daggers of the banditti.

Dreadful therefore was the sound in their ears, when the bell gave the signal for execution, and they saw their best-founded hopes expire on the scaffold, which supported the headless trunks of the four bravoes. But if their consternation was great at thus losing the destined instruments of their designs, how extravagant was their joy when the proud Abellino dared openly to declare to Venice that he still inhabited the Republic, and that he still wore a dagger at the disposal of Vice.

"This desperado is the very man for us!" they exclaimed unanimously, and in rapture; and now their most ardent wish was to enroll Abellino in their services.

Their object was soon attained--they sought the daring ruffian, and he suffered himself to be found. He visited their meetings, but in his promises and demands he was equally extravagant.

The first and most earnest wish of the whole conspiracy was the death of Conari, the Procurator, a man whom the Doge valued beyond all others, a man whose eagle eyes made the conspirators hourly tremble for their secret, and whose service the Doge had accepted, in preference to those of the Cardinal Gonzaga. But the sum which Abellino demanded for the murder of this one man was enormous.

"Give me the reward which I require," said he, "and I promise, on the word of a man of honour, that after this night the Procurator, Conari, shall give you no further trouble. Exalt him to heaven, or imprison him in h.e.l.l, I'll engage to find and stab him."

What could they do? Abellino was not a man to be easily beat down in his demands. The Cardinal was impatient to attain the summit of his wishes; but his road lay straight over Conari's grave!

Abellino received the sum demanded; the next day the venerable Conari, the Doge's best and dearest friend, the pride and safeguard of the Republic, was no longer numbered among the living.

"'Tis a terrible fellow, this Abellino!" cried the conspirators, when the news reached them, and celebrated the Procurator's death in triumph at the Cardinal's midnight feast.

The Doge was almost distracted with terror and astonishment. He engaged to give ten thousand sequins to any one who should discover by whom Conari had been removed from the world. A proclamation to this effect was published at the corner of every street in Venice, and made known throughout the territories of the Republic. A few days after this proclamation had been made, a paper was discovered affixed to the princ.i.p.al door of the Venetian Signoria.

"VENETIANS!