Chapter XII: Part 12

I took him to Florence and surrounded him with all the comforts I could procure. When all his debts were paid, I had very little left. I devoted all my energies to making him forget the sufferings of his prison. His robust body was soon cured, but his mind remained diseased. The terrors of darkness and the agony of despair had made a profound impression upon that active, enterprising man, accustomed to the enjoyments of wealth, or to the excitement of the adventurer's life. Inaction had shattered him. He had become subject to childish terrors, to terrible outbreaks of violence; he could not endure the slightest annoyance; and the most horrible thing was that he vented his wrath on me for all the annoyances that I could not spare him. He had lost that will power which enabled him to face without fear the most precarious prospects for the future. He was terrified now at the thought of poverty and asked me every day what resources I should have when my present means were exhausted. I was appalled myself at the thought of the destitution which was impending. The time came at last. I began to paint pictures on screens, snuff-boxes and other small articles of Spa wood. When I had worked ten hours, my earnings amounted to eight or ten francs. That would have been enough for my needs; but for Leoni it was utter poverty. He longed for a hundred impossible things; he complained bitterly, savagely, because he was not richer. He often reproached me for having paid his debts and for not having fled with him and with my money too. To calm him, I was obliged to convince him that it would have been impossible for me to get him out of prison and commit that piece of rascality. He would stand at the windows and swear horribly at the rich people driving by in their carriages. He would point to his shabby clothes and say with an accent that I cannot possibly imitate: "_Can't_ you help me to obtain a better coat? _Won't_ you do it?" He finally told me so often that I could rescue him from his distress, and that it was cruel and selfish of me to leave him in that condition, that I thought that he was mad and no longer tried to argue with him on the subject. I held my peace whenever he recurred to it, and concealed my tears, which served only to irritate him. He thought that I understood his abominable hints and called my silence inhuman indifference and stupid obstinacy. Several times he struck me savagely and would have killed me if some one had not come to my assistance. It is true that when these paroxysms had passed, he threw himself at my feet and implored me with tears in his eyes to forgive him. But I avoided these scenes of reconciliation so far as I could, for the emotion caused a fresh shock to his nerves and provoked a return of the outbreaks. At last this irritability ceased and gave place to a sort of dull, stupid despair which was even more horrible. He would gaze at me with a gloomy expression, and seemed to nourish a secret aversion for me and projects of revenge. Sometimes I woke in the middle of the night and saw him standing by my bed, his face wearing a sinister expression; at such times I thought that he meant to kill me, and I shrieked with fear. But he would simply shrug his shoulders and return to his bed with a stupid laugh.

In spite of everything I loved him still, not as he was, but because of what he had been and might become again. There were times when I had hopes that a blessed revolution was taking place in him, and that he would come forth from that crisis a new man, cleansed of all his evil inclinations. He seemed no longer to think of satisfying them, nor did he express regret or desire for anything whatsoever. I could not imagine the subject of the long meditations by which he seemed to be absorbed. Most of the time his eyes were fixed upon me with such a strange expression that I was afraid of him. I dared not speak to him, but I asked his forgiveness by imploring glances. Then I would imagine that his own glance melted and that his breast rose with an imperceptible sigh; he would turn his head away as if he wished to conceal or stifle his emotion, and would fall to musing again. At such times I flattered myself that he was engaged in making salutary reflections concerning the past, and that he would soon open his heart to tell me that he had conceived a hatred of vice and a love of virtue.

My hopes grew fainter when the Marquis de ---- reappeared on the scene. He never entered my apartments, because he knew the horror I had of him; but he would pass under the windows and call Leoni, or come to my door and knock in a peculiar way to let him know that he was there. Then Leoni would go out with him and remain away a long while. One day I saw them pass and repass several times; the Vicomte de Chalm was with them.

"Leoni is lost," I thought, "and I too; some fresh crime will soon be committed under my eyes."

That evening Leoni came home late; and, as he left his companions at the street door, I heard him say these words:

"But you can tell her that I am mad, absolutely mad; and that otherwise I would never have consented to it. She must know well enough that want has driven me mad."

I dared not ask him for any explanation, and I served his modest supper. He did not touch it but began to poke the fire nervously; then he asked me for ether, and, having taken a large dose, went to bed and seemed to sleep. I worked every evening as long as I could, until I was overcome by drowsiness and fatigue. That night I went to bed at midnight. I was hardly in bed when I heard a slight noise, and it seemed to me that Leoni was dressing to go out. I spoke to him and asked what he was doing.

"Nothing," he said, "I was just getting up to come to you; but I don't like your light, you know that it affects my nerves and gives me horrible pains in the head; put it out."

I obeyed.

"Have you done it?" he said. "Now go to bed again, I am coming to kiss you; wait a moment."

This mark of affection, which he had not bestowed upon me for several weeks, made my poor heart leap with joy and hope. I flattered myself that the revival of his affection would lead to the recovery of reason and conscience. I sat on the edge of my bed and awaited him with the utmost joy. He came and threw himself into my arms, which were wide open to receive him, and, embracing me passionately, threw me back upon my bed. But, at that instant, a feeling of distrust, due to the protection of heaven or the delicacy of my instinct, led me to pass my hand over the face of the man who was embracing me. Leoni had allowed his beard and moustaches to grow since he had been ill; I found a smooth, clean-shaven face. I gave a shriek and pushed him away with all my force.

"What is the matter?" said Leoni's voice.

"Have you shaved your beard," I said.

"As you see," he replied.

But I noticed that while his voice was speaking at my ear, another mouth was clinging to mine. I shook myself free with the strength which wrath and despair give, and, rushing to the other end of the room, hurriedly turned up the lamp, which I had lowered but had not put out. I saw Lord Edwards seated on the edge of the bed, bewildered and disconcerted,--I believe that he was drunk,--and Leoni coming toward me with a desperate look in his eyes.

"Wretch!" I cried.

"Juliette," he said, with haggard eyes and in a muffled voice, "yield if you love me. It is a question of rescuing me from this destitution, in which, as you see, I am eating my heart out. It is a question of life and reason with me, as you know. My salvation will be the reward of your devotion; and, as for yourself, you will be rich and happy with a man who has loved you for a long while, and who considers no price too great to pay to obtain you. Consent, Juliette," he added under his breath, "or I will kill you when he has left the room."

Terror deprived me of all judgment. I jumped through the window at the risk of killing myself. Some soldiers who were passing picked me up and carried me into the house unconscious. When I came to myself, Leoni and his confederates had left the house. They declared that I had jumped from the window in the delirium of brain fever, while they had gone into another room to call for help. They had feigned the greatest consternation. Leoni had remained until the surgeon who attended me declared that I had broken no bones. Then he had gone out saying that he would return, but he had not been seen for two days. He did not return, and I never saw him again.

Here Juliette finished her narrative and fell back on her couch, overwhelmed with fatigue and sadness.

"It was then, my poor child," I said, "that I made your acquaintance. I was living in the same house. The story of your accident aroused my interest. Soon I learned that you were young and worthy of a serious attachment; that Leoni, after treating you with great brutality, had abandoned you when you were critically ill and in want. I desired to see you; you were delirious when I approached your bed. O, Juliette, how lovely you were, with your bare shoulders, your dishevelled hair, your lips burning with the fire of fever, and your face animated by the excitement of suffering! How lovely you still seemed to me when, prostrated by fatigue, you fell back on your pillow, pale and drooping, like a white rose shedding its leaves in the hot sun of midday! I could not tear myself away from you. I felt a thrill of irresistible sympathy; I was impelled by such a deep interest as nobody had ever aroused in me. I sent for the leading physicians of the city; I procured for you all the comforts that you lacked. Poor deserted girl! I passed whole nights by your bedside, I saw your despair, I understood your love. I had never loved; it seemed to me that no woman was capable of returning the passion that I was capable of feeling. I sought a heart as fervent as mine. I distrusted all those that I put to the test, and I soon realized the prudence of my self-restraint when I saw the coldness and frivolity of the hearts of those women. Yours seemed to me the only one capable of understanding me. A woman who could love and suffer as you had done was the realization of all my dreams. I desired to obtain your affection, but without much hope of success. What gave me the presumption to try to console you was my absolute certainty that I loved you sincerely and generously. All that you said in your delirium taught me to know you just as well and thoroughly as our subsequent intimacy has done. I knew that you were a sublime creature from the prayers that you addressed to God, aloud, in a tone of which no words can describe the heart-rending purity. You prayed for forgiveness for Leoni, always forgiveness, never vengeance! You invoked the souls of your parents; you described to them breathlessly the misfortunes by which you had expiated your flight and their sorrow. Sometimes you took me for Leoni, and poured out crushing reproaches upon me; at other times you thought that you were with him in Switzerland, and you embraced me passionately. It would have been easy for me then to abuse your error, and the love that was gaining headway in my breast made your frantic caresses a veritable torture. But I would have died rather than yield to my desires, and the villainy of Lord Edwards, of which you talked constantly, seems to me the most degrading infamy of which a man could be guilty. At last I had the good fortune to save your life and your reason, my dear Juliette. Since then I have suffered bitterly, and I have been very happy through you. I am a fool perhaps not to be content with the friendship and the possession of such a woman as you, but my love is insatiable. I long to be loved as Leoni was, and I torment you with that foolish ambition. I have not his eloquence and his fascinations, but I love you. I have not deceived you; I will never deceive you. It is time for your heart, so long shattered by fatigue, to find rest while sleeping on mine. Juliette! Juliette! when will you love me as you are capable of loving?"

"Now and forever," she replied. "You saved me, you cured me, and you love me. I was mad, I see it now, to love such a man. All this that I have told you has brought before my eyes anew a multitude of vile things. Now I feel nothing but horror for the past, and I do not mean to recur to it again. You have done well to let me tell it all to you. I am calm now, and I feel that I can never again love his memory. You are my friend; you are my savior, my brother and my lover."

"Say your husband too, Juliette, I implore you!"

"My husband, if you will," she said, embracing me with a fondness which she had never manifested so warmly, and which brought tears of joy and gratitude to my eyes.

XXIII

I awoke the next day so happy that I thought no more about leaving Venice. The weather was superb, the sun as mild as in spring. Fashionably dressed women thronged the quays and laughed at the jests of the maskers, who, half reclining on the rails of the bridges, teased the passers-by, and made impertinent and flattering remarks to the ugly and pretty women respectively. It was Mardi Gras; a sad anniversary for Juliette. I was anxious to distract her thoughts, so suggested that we should go out, and she agreed.

I looked proudly at her as she walked by my side. It is not the custom to offer one's arm to a lady in Venice, but simply to support her by grasping her elbow as you go up and down the white marble stairways which confront you whenever you cross a canal. Juliette was so graceful and lithe in all her movements that I took a childish delight in feeling her lean gently on my hand as we crossed the bridges. Everybody turned to look at her, and the women, who never take pleasure in another woman's beauty, observed with interest, at all events, the refinement of her dress and her bearing, which they would have been glad to copy. It seems to me that I can still see Juliette's costume and her graceful figure. She wore a gown of violet velvet with an ermine boa and small muff. Her white satin hat framed her face, which was still pale, but so exquisitely beautiful that, despite seven or eight years of fatigue and mental unhappiness, no one thought her more than eighteen. She wore violet silk stockings, so transparent that one could see through them the alabaster whiteness of her flesh. When she had passed and her face could no longer be seen, people followed with their eyes her tiny feet, so rare in Italy. I was happy to have her thus admired; I told her so, and she smiled at me with a sweet, affectionate expression. God! how happy I was!

A gayly-decorated boat, filled with maskers and musicians, was coming along the Giudecca canal. I suggested to Juliette that we take a gondola and row near to it, to see the costumes. She assented. Several parties followed our example, and we soon found ourselves entangled in a group of gondolas and skiffs which, with ourselves, accompanied the decorated vessel and seemed to serve as an escort to it.

_A gayly-decorated boat filled with maskers and musicians was coming along the Giudecca Canal. I suggested to Juliette that we take a gondola and row near to it, to see the costumes. She assented._]

We heard the gondoliers say that the party of maskers was composed of the richest and most fashionable young men in Venice. They were, in truth, dressed with extreme magnificence; their costumes were very rich, and the boat was decorated with silken sails, streamers of silver gauze and Oriental rugs of very great beauty. They were dressed like the ancient Venetians whom Paul Veronese, by a happy anachronism, has introduced in several devotional pictures, notably in the magnificent _Nuptials_, which the Republic of Venice presented to Louis XIV., and which is now in the Musée at Paris. I noticed especially one man near the rail of the boat, dressed in a long robe of pale green silk, embroidered with long arabesques in gold and silver. He was standing, and playing on the guitar; his attitude was so noble, his tall figure so perfectly formed, that he seemed to have been made expressly to wear those rich garments. I called Juliette's attention to him; she looked up at him mechanically, hardly seeing him, and answered: "Yes, yes, superb!" thinking of something else.

We continued to follow, and, being crowded by the other boats, touched the decorated vessel just where this man stood. Juliette was standing by my side and leaning against the awning of the gondola to avoid being thrown backward by the shocks we often received. Suddenly this man leaned toward Juliette as if to see her more distinctly, passed his guitar to his neighbor, tore off his black mask and turned toward us again. I saw his face, which was beautiful and noble, if ever human face was. Juliette did not see him. Thereupon he called her name in an undertone, and she started as if she had received an electric shock.

"Juliette!" he repeated in a louder voice.

"Leoni!" she cried, frantic with joy.

It is still like a dream to me. A mist passed before my eyes; I lost the sense of sight for a second, I believe. Juliette rushed forward, impulsively and with energy. Suddenly I saw her transported as if by magic to the other boat, into Leoni's arms; their lips met in a delirious kiss. The blood rushed to my brain, roared in my ears, covered my eyes with a thicker veil. I do not know what happened. I came to myself as I was entering the hotel. I was alone; Juliette had gone with Leoni.

I flew into a frenzy of passion, and for three hours I raved like an epileptic. Toward night I received a letter from Juliette, thus conceived:

"Forgive me, forgive me, Bustamente; I love you, I respect you and I bless you on my knees for your love and your benefactions. Do not hate me; you know that I do not belong to myself, that an invisible hand controls my actions and throws me against my will into that man's arms. O my friend, forgive me and do not seek revenge. I love him, I cannot live without him. I cannot know that he exists without longing for him, I cannot see him pass without following him. I am his wife, you see, and he is my master; it is impossible for me to escape from his passion and his authority. You saw whether I was able to resist his summons. There was something like an electric current, a magnet, which lifted me up and drew me to his heart, and yet I was by your side, I had my hand in yours. Why did you not hold me back? you had not the power; your hand opened, your lips were powerless to call me back; you see that it is beyond our control. There is a hidden will, a magic power, which ordains and accomplishes these strange things. I cannot break the chain that binds me to Leoni, it is the fetter that couples galley-slaves, but it was God's hand that welded it.

"O my dear Aleo, do not curse me! I am at your feet. I implore you to let me be happy. If you knew how dearly he loves me still, with what joy he received me! what caresses, what words, what tears! I am as one drunk, I seem to be dreaming. I must forget his crime against me: he was mad. After deserting me, he reached Naples in such a state of mental alienation that he was confined in an insane asylum. I do not know by what miracle he was cured and discharged, nor to what lucky chance he owes it that he is now once more at the very pinnacle of wealth. But he is handsomer, more brilliant, more passionate than ever. Let me, oh! let me love him, though I am destined to be happy but a single day and to die to-morrow. Should not you forgive me for loving him so madly, you who have an equally blind and misplaced passion for me?

"Forgive me; I am mad; I know not what I am saying nor what it is that I ask you. It is not to take me back and forgive me when he has abandoned me again; oh, no! I have too much pride, never fear. I feel that I no longer deserve you, that when I rushed into that boat I cut myself adrift from you forever, that I can never again look you in the face or touch your hand. Adieu then, Aleo! Yes, I am writing to bid you adieu, for I cannot part from you without telling you that my heart is already bleeding, and that it will break some day with regret and repentance. I tell you, you will be avenged! Calm yourself now, forgive, pity me, pray for me; be sure that I am no insensible ingrate who does not appreciate your character and her duty to you. I am only an unhappy creature whom fatality drives hither and thither, and who has not the power to stop. I turn my face to you and send you a thousand farewells, a thousand kisses, a thousand blessings. But the tempest envelopes me and carries me off. As I perish on the reefs on which it is certain to hurl me, I will repeat your name and invoke your intercession as an angel of forgiveness between God and me.

"JULIETTE."

This letter caused a fresh attack of frenzy; then I fell into despair; I sobbed like a child for several hours; and, succumbing to fatigue, I fell asleep in my chair, in that vast room where Juliette had told me her story the night before. I awoke more calm; I lighted the fire and paced the floor back and forth several times with slow and measured step.

As the day was breaking I fell asleep again: my mind was made up; I was calm. At nine o'clock I went and made inquiries throughout the city, trying to get information as to certain details which I needed to know about. Nobody knew by what means Leoni had made his fortune; it was known simply that he was rich, extravagant and dissipated; all the men of fashion frequented his house, copied his dress and were his companions in debauchery. The Marquis de ---- accompanied him everywhere and shared his opulence; both were in love with a famous courtesan, and, by virtue of a most extraordinary caprice, that woman refused their offers. Her resistance had so stimulated Leoni's desire that he had made her the most extravagant promises, and there was no folly into which she could not lead him.

I called at her house and had much trouble in obtaining an audience. I was admitted at last, and she received me with a haughty air, asking me what I wanted, in the tone of a person who is in a hurry to dismiss an importunate caller.

"I have come to ask a favor at your hands," I said. "You hate Leoni?"

"Yes, I hate him mortally."

"May I ask you why?"

"He seduced a young sister of mine at Friuli, a virtuous, saint-like child; she died in the hospital. I would like to eat Leoni's heart."

"Meanwhile, will you assist me to play a cruel practical joke on him?"

"Yes."

"Will you write to him and give him an assignation?"

"Yes, provided that I do not keep it."

"That is understood. Here is a sketch of the note you must write him:"

"I know that you have found your wife again and that you love her. I did not want you yesterday, you seemed too easy a conquest; to-day it seems to me that it will be interesting to make you unfaithful; moreover, I am anxious to know if your frantic desire to possess me makes you capable of everything, as you boast. I know that you are to give a concert on the water this evening; I will be in a gondola and will follow you. You know my gondolier, Cristofano; be near the rail of your boat and leap into my gondola as soon as you see it. I will keep you an hour, after which I shall have had enough of you forever, perhaps. I want none of your presents; I want only this proof of your love. This evening or never."

La Misana thought the note very singular in tone and copied it laughingly.

"What will you do with him when you have him in the gondola?"

"Set him ashore on the bank of the Lido and let him pass a long, cool night there."

"I would gladly kiss you to show my gratitude," said the courtesan; "but I have a lover whom I propose to love all the week. Adieu."

"You must place your gondolier at my orders," I said.

"To be sure; he is intelligent, discreet and strong; do with him as you will."

XXIV

I returned to the hotel and passed the rest of the day reflecting deeply upon what I was to do. Night came; Cristofano and the gondola were waiting under my window. I dressed myself like a gondolier; Leoni's boat appeared, decorated with colored lanterns, which gleamed like gems, from the top of the masts to the end of every piece of rigging, and sending up rockets in all directions in the intervals between the bursts of music. I stood at the stern of the gondola, oar in hand; I rowed alongside. Leoni was by the rail, in the same costume as on the night before; Juliette was sitting among the musicians; she too wore a magnificent costume, but she was downcast and pensive, and seemed not to be thinking of him. Cristofano removed his hat and raised his lantern to the level of his face. Leoni recognized him and leaped into the gondola.

As soon as he was on board, Cristofano informed him that La Misana was awaiting him in another gondola near the public garden.

"What's that? why isn't she here?" he asked.

"_Non so_," replied the gondolier indifferently, and he began to row. I seconded him vigorously, and in a few moments we had passed the public garden. We were surrounded by a dense mist. Leoni leaned forward several times and asked if we were not almost there. We continued to glide smoothly over the placid surface of the lagoon; the moon, pale and swathed in mist, whitened the atmosphere without lightening it. We passed like smugglers the line which cannot ordinarily be passed without a permit from the police, and did not pause until we reached the sandy bank of the Lido, far enough away to be in no danger of meeting a living being.

"Knaves!" cried our prisoner. "Where the devil have you taken me? Where are the stairways of the public gardens? Where is La Misana's gondola? _Ventre-Dieu_! We are on sand! You have gone astray in the mist, clowns that you are, and you have set me ashore at random----"

"No, signor," I said in Italian; "be kind enough to take ten steps with me and you will find the person you seek."

He followed me; whereupon Cristofano, in accordance with my orders, instantly rowed away with the gondola, and went to wait for me in the lagoon on the other side of the island.

"Will you stop, brigand?" cried Leoni, when we had walked along the beach for several minutes. "Do you wish me to freeze here? Where is your mistress? Where are you taking me?"

"Signor," I rejoined, turning and drawing from under my cape the objects I had brought, "allow me to light your path."

With that I produced my dark lantern, opened it, and hung it on one of the posts on the bank.

"What the devil are you doing there?" he said; "have I a madman to deal with? What does this mean?"

"It means," I said, taking the swords from beneath my cloak, "that you must fight with me."

"With you, you cur! I'll beat you as you deserve."

"One moment," I said, taking him by the collar with an energy which staggered him a little. "I am not what you think; I am noble as well as yourself. Moreover, I am an honest man and you are a scoundrel. Therefore I do you much honor by fighting with you."

It seemed to me that my adversary trembled and was inclined to run away. I pressed him more closely.

"What do you want of me?" he cried. "Damnation! who are you? I don't know you. Why have you brought me here? Do you mean to murder me? I have no money about me. Are you a thief?"

"No," I said, "there is no thief and murderer here but yourself, as you well know."

"Are you my enemy?"

"Yes, I am your enemy."

"What is your name?"

"That does not concern you; you will find out if you kill me."

"And what if I don't choose to kill you?" he cried, shrugging his shoulders and struggling to appear self-possessed.

"In that case you will allow me to kill you," I replied, "for I give you my word that one of us two is destined to remain here to-night."

"You are a villain," he cried, making frantic efforts to escape. "Help! help!"

"That is quite useless," I said; "the noise of the waves drowns your voice, and you are a long way from human help. Keep quiet, or I will strangle you. Don't lose your temper, but make the most of the chances of safety I give you. I propose to kill you, not murder you. You know what that means. Fight with me, and do not compel me to take advantage of my superior strength, which must be evident to you."

As I spoke, I shook him by the shoulders and made him bend like a reed, although he was a full head taller than I. He realized that he was at my mercy, and tried to argue with me.

"But, signor," he said, "if you are not mad, you must have some reason for fighting with me. What have I done to you?"

"It does not please me to tell you," I replied, "and you are a coward to ask for my reasons for revenge, when you should demand satisfaction of me."

"What for?" he rejoined. "I never saw you before. It is not light enough for me to distinguish your features, but I am sure that this is the first time that I ever heard your voice."

"Dastard, have you no cause to be revenged on a man who has made sport of you, who has procured an assignation to be given you in order to play a joke upon you, and who has brought you here against your will to insult you? I was told that you were brave. Must I strike you to arouse your courage?"

"You are an insolent scoundrel," he said, making an effort to work himself into a passion.

"Very good! I demand satisfaction for that remark, and I propose to take satisfaction at once with this blow."

I struck him lightly on the cheek. He uttered a roar of rage and fear.

"Have no fear," I said, holding him with one hand and giving him a sword with the other. "Defend yourself. I know that you are the first swordsman in Europe; I am far from being your equal. It is true that I am calm and you are frightened, which equalizes our chances."

Giving him no time to reply, I attacked him fiercely. The wretch threw his sword away and ran. I followed him, overtook him and shook him furiously. I threatened to throw him into the sea and drown him if he did not defend himself. When he saw that it was impossible for him to escape, he took the sword and mustered that desperate courage which love of life and unavoidable danger give to the most timid. But whether because the feeble light of the lantern did not allow him to measure his blows accurately, or because the fright he had experienced had taken away all his presence of mind, I found this terrible duellist pitifully weak. I was so determined not to slaughter him that I spared him a long while. At last he threw himself upon my sword, when trying to feint, and spitted himself up to the hilt.

"Justice! justice!" he said as he fell. "I am murdered!"

"You demand justice and you obtain it," I replied. "You die by my hand as Henryet died by yours."

He uttered a dull roar, bit the sand and gave up the ghost.

I took the two swords and started to find the gondola; but as I crossed the island I was seized with a thousand unfamiliar emotions. My strength suddenly failed me; I sat down upon one of those Hebraic tombs, half covered by the grass, which are ceaselessly beaten by the sharp salt winds from the Adriatic. The morn was beginning to come forth from the mist, and the white stones of that vast cemetery stood out against the dark verdure of the Lido. I reflected upon what I had done, and my revenge, from which I had anticipated so much joy, appeared to me in a most distressing light; I felt something like remorse, and yet I had thought that it was a legitimate and blessed act to purge the earth of that fiend incarnate and deliver Juliette from him. But I had not expected to find him a coward. I had hoped to meet a bold swordsman, and in attacking him I had thought that I was sacrificing my life. I was disturbed and almost appalled to have taken his life so easily. I did not find that my hatred was satisfied by vengeance, but I did feel that it was extinguished by contempt.--"When I found what a coward he was," I thought, "I should have spared him; I should have forgotten my resentment against him and my love for a woman capable of preferring such a man to me."

Thereupon confused, painful, agitated thoughts rushed into my brain. The cold, the darkness, the sight of those tombs calmed me at intervals; they plunged me into a dreamy stupor from which I awoke with a violent and painful shock when I suddenly remembered my situation, Juliette's despair, which would burst forth on the morrow, and the aspect of that corpse lying on the blood-stained sand not far away.

"Perhaps he is not dead," I thought.

I had a vague desire to go to see. I would almost have been glad to restore him to life. The first rays of dawn surprised me in this irresolute frame of mind, and I reflected that prudence required me to leave that spot.

I went and found Cristofano, who was sound asleep in his gondola, and whom I had much difficulty in waking. The sight of that placid slumber aroused my envy. Like Macbeth, I had taken leave of it for a long time to come.

I returned, gently rocked by the waves which the approach of the sun had already tipped with pink. I passed quite near the steamboat which runs from Venice to Trieste. It was its hour for starting; the wheels were already beating the water into foam, and red sparks flew upward from the funnel, with columns of black smoke. Several boats brought belated passengers. A gondola grated against ours and made fast to the packet. A man and woman left that gondola and ran lightly up the gangway. They were no sooner on the deck than the steamer started at full speed. The couple leaned over the rail to watch the wake. I recognized Juliette and Leoni. I thought that I was dreaming; I passed my hand over my eyes and called to Cristofano:

"Is that Baron Leone de Leoni starting for Trieste with a lady?"

"Yes, signor," he replied.

I uttered a horrible oath; then recalling the gondolier, I asked him:

"Who in God's name was the man we took to the Lido last night?"

"Why, as your Excellency knows," he replied, "it was Marquis Lorenzo de ----."