Vendetta Part 35

"I told the superioress I came here for a week. I had better stay till that time is expired. Not longer, because as Guido is really dead, my presence is actually necessary in the city."

"Indeed! May I ask why?"

She laughed a little consciously.

"Simply to prove his last will and testament," she replied. "Before he left for Rome, he gave it into my keeping."

A light flashed on my mind.

"And its contents?" I inquired.

"Its contents make ME the owner of everything he died possessed of!"

she said, with an air of quiet yet malicious triumph.

Unhappy Guido! What trust he had reposed in this vile, self-interested, heartless woman! He had loved her, even as I had loved her--she who was unworthy of any love! I controlled my rising emotion, and merely said with gravity:

"I congratulate you! May I be permitted to see this doc.u.ment?"

"Certainly; I can show it to you now. I have it here," and she drew a Russia-leather letter-case from her pocket, and opening it, handed me a sealed envelope. "Break the seal!" she added, with childish eagerness.

"He closed it up like that after I had read it."

With reluctant hand, and a pained piteousness at my heart, I opened the packet. It was as she had said, a will drawn up in perfectly legal form, signed and witnessed, leaving everything UNCONDITIONALLY to "Nina, Countess Romani, of the Villa Romani, Naples." I read it through and returned it to her.

"He must have loved you!" I said.

She laughed.

"Of course," she said, airily. "But many people love me--that is nothing new; I am accustomed to be loved. But you see," she went on, reverting to the will again, "it specifies, 'EVERYTHING HE DIES POSSESSED OF;' that means all the money left to him by his uncle in Rome, does it not?"

I bowed. I could not trust myself to speak.

"I thought so," she murmured, gleefully, more to herself than to me; "and I have a right to all his papers and letters." There she paused abruptly and checked herself.

I understood her. She wanted to get back her own letters to the dead man, lest her intimacy with him should leak out in some chance way for which she was unprepared. Cunning devil! I was almost glad she showed me to what a depth of vulgar vice she had fallen. There was no question of pity or forbearance in HER case. If all the tortures invented by savages or stern inquisitors could be heaped upon her at once, such punishment would be light in comparison with her crimes--crimes for which, mark you, the law gives you no remedy but divorce. Tired of the wretched comedy, I looked at my watch.

"It is time for me to take my leave of you," I said, in the stiff, courtly manner I affected. "Moments fly fast in your enchanting company! But I have still to walk to Castellamare, there to rejoin my carriage, and I have many things to attend to before my departure this evening. On my return from Avellino shall I be welcome?"

"You know it," she returned, nestling her head against my shoulder, while for mere form's sake I was forced to hold her in a partial embrace. "I only wish you were not going at all. Dearest, do not stay long away--I shall be so unhappy till you come back!"

"Absence strengthens love, they say," I observed, with a forced smile.

"May it do so in our case. Farewell, cara mia! Pray for me; I suppose you DO pray a great deal here?"

"Oh, yes," she replied, naively; "there is nothing else to do."

I held her hands closely in my grasp. The engagement ring on her finger, and the diamond signet on my own, flashed in the light like the crossing of swords.

"Pray then," I said, "storm the gates of heaven with sweet-voiced pleadings for the repose of poor Ferrari's soul! Remember he loved you, though YOU never loved him. For YOUR sake he quarreled with me, his best friend--for YOUR sake he died! Pray for him--who knows," and I spoke in thrilling tones of earnestness--"who knows but that his too-hastily departed spirit may not be near us now--hearing our voices, watching our looks?"

She shivered slightly, and her hands in mine grew cold.

"Yes, yes," I continued, more calmly; "you must not forget to pray for him--he was young and not prepared to die."

My words had some of the desired effect upon her--for once her ready speech failed--she seemed as though she sought for some reply and found none. I still held her hands.

"Promise me!" I continued; "and at the same time pray for your dead husband! He and poor Ferrari were close friends, you know; it will be pious and kind of you to join their names in one pet.i.tion addressed to Him 'from whom no secrets are hid,' and who reads with unerring eyes the purity of your intentions. Will you do it?"

She smiled, a forced, faint smile.

"I certainly will," she replied, in a low voice; "I promise you."

I released her hands--I was satisfied. If she dared to pray thus I felt--I KNEW that she would draw down upon her soul the redoubled wrath of Heaven; for I looked beyond the grave! The mere death of her body would be but a slight satisfaction to me; it was the utter destruction of her wicked soul that I sought. She should never repent, I swore; she should never have the chance of casting off her vileness as a serpent casts its skin, and, reclothing herself in innocence, presume to ask admittance into that Eternal Gloryland whither my little child had gone--never, never! No church should save her, no priest should absolve her--not while _I_ lived!

She watched me as I fastened my coat and began to draw on my gloves.

"Are you going now?" she asked, somewhat timidly.

"Yes, I am going now, cara mia," I said. "Why! what makes you look so pale?"

For she had suddenly turned very white.

"Let me see your hand again," she demanded, with feverish eagerness, "the hand on which I placed the ring!"

Smilingly and with readiness I took off the glove I had just put on.

"What odd fancy possesses you now, little one?" I asked, with an air of playfulness.

She made no answer, but took my hand and examined it closely and curiously. Then she looked up, her lips twitched nervously, and she laughed a little hard mirthless laugh.

"Your hand," she murmured, incoherently, "with--that--signet--on it--is exactly like--like Fabio's!"

And before I had time to say a word she went off into a violent fit of hysterics--sobs, little cries, and laughter all intermingled in that wild and reasonless distraction that generally unnerves the strongest man who is not accustomed to it. I rang the bell to summon a.s.sistance; a lay-sister answered it, and seeing Nina's condition, rushed for a gla.s.s of water and summoned Madame la Vicaire. This latter, entering with her quiet step and inflexible demeanor, took in the situation at a glance, dismissed the lay-sister, and possessing herself of the tumbler of water, sprinkled the forehead of the interesting patient, and forced some drops between her clinched teeth. Then turning to me she inquired, with some stateliness of manner, what had caused the attack?

"I really cannot tell you, madame," I said, with an air of affected concern and vexation. "I certainly told the countess of the unexpected death of a friend, but she bore the news with exemplary resignation.

The circ.u.mstance that appears to have so greatly distressed her is that she finds, or says she finds, a resemblance between my hand and the hand of her deceased husband. This seems to me absurd, but there is no accounting for ladies' caprices."

And I shrugged my shoulders as though I were annoyed and impatient.

Over the pale, serious face of the nun there flitted a smile in which there was certainly the ghost of sarcasm.

"All sensitiveness and tenderness of heart, you see!" she said, in her chill, pa.s.sionless tones, which, icy as they were, somehow conveyed to my ear another meaning than that implied by the words she uttered. "We cannot perhaps understand the extreme delicacy of her feelings, and we fail to do justice to them."

Here Nina opened her eyes, and looked at us with piteous plaintiveness, while her bosom heaved with those long, deep sighs which are the finishing chords of the Sonata Hysteria.

"You are better, I trust?" continued the nun, without any sympathy in her monotonous accents, and addressing her with some reserve. "You have greatly alarmed the Count Oliva."

"I am sorry--" began Nina, feebly.

I hastened to her side.