It was within half an hour of midnight, and the beautiful Giulia Arestino was sitting restlessly upon an ottoman, now holding her breath to listen if a step were approaching the private door behind the tapestry--then glancing anxiously toward a clepsydra on the mantel.

"What can detain him thus? will he deceive me?" she murmured to herself.

"Oh! how foolish--worse than foolish--mad--to confide in the promise of a professed bandit! The jewels are worth a thousand times the reward I have pledged myself to give him! wretched being that I am!"

And with her fair hand she drew back the dark ma.s.ses of her hair that had fallen too much over her polished brow: and on this polished brow she pressed that fair hand, for her head ached with the intensity of mingled suspense and alarm.

Her position was indeed a dangerous one as the reader is already aware.

In the infatuation of her strong, unconquerable, but not less guilty love for the handsome spendthrift Orsini, she had pledged her diamonds to Isaachar ben Solomon for an enormous sum of money, every ducat of which had pa.s.sed without an hour's delay into the possession of the young marquis.

Those diamonds were the bridal gift of her fond and attached, but, alas!

deceived husband, who, being many years older than herself, studied constantly how to afford pleasure to the wife of whom he was so proud.

He was himself an extraordinary judge of the nature, purity and value of precious stones; and, being immensely rich, he had collected a perfect museum of curiosities in that particular department. In fact, it was his amateur study, or, as we should say in these times, his peculiar hobby; and hence the impossibility of imposing on him by the subst.i.tution of a hired or a false set of diamonds for those which he had presented to his wife.

It was, therefore, absolutely necessary to get these diamonds back from Isaachar, by fair means or foul. The fair means were to redeem them by the payment of the loan advanced upon them; but the sum was so large that the countess dared not make such a demand upon her husband's purse, because the extravagances of her lover had lately compelled her to apply so very, very frequently to the count for a replenishment of her funds.

The foul means were therefore resorted to--an old woman, who had been the nurse of the countess in her infancy, and to whom in her distress she applied for advice, having procured for the patrician lady the services of Stephano Verrina, the bandit-captain.

It is not to be wondered at, then, if the Countess of Arestino were a prey to the most poignant anxiety, as each successive quarter of an hour pa.s.sed without bringing either Stephano or any tidings from him. Even if she feigned illness, so as to escape the ceremony of the following day, relief would only be temporary, for the moment she should recover, or affect to recover, her husband would again require her to accompany him to the receptions of the prince.

Giulia's anguish had risen to that point at which such feelings become intolerable, and suggest the most desperate remedies--suicide,--when a low knock behind the pale-blue arras suddenly imparted hope to her soul.

Hastily raising the tapestry on that side whence the sound had emanated, she drew back the bolt of a little door communicating with a private staircase (usually found in all Italian mansions at that period), and the robber chief entered the room.

"Have you succeeded?" was Giulia's rapid question.

"Your ladyship's commission has been executed," replied Stephano, who, we should observe, had laid aside his black mask ere he appeared in the presence of the countess.

"Ah! now I seem to live--breathe again!" cried Giulia, a tremendous weight suddenly removed from her mind.

Stephano produced the jewel-case from beneath his cloak; and as the countess hastily took it--nay, almost s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him, he endeavored to imprint a kiss upon her fair hand.

Deep was the crimson glow which suffused her countenance--her neck--even all that was revealed of her bosom, as she drew haughtily back, and with a sublime patrician air of offended pride.

"I thank you--thank you from the bottom of my soul, Signor Verrina," she said in another moment; for she felt how completely circ.u.mstances had placed her in the power of the bandit-chief, and how useless it was to offend him. "Here is your reward," and she presented him a heavy purse of gold.

"Nay, keep the jingling metal, lady," said Stephano; "I stand in no need of it--at least for the present. The reward I crave is of a different nature, and will even cost you less than you proffer me."

"What other recompense can I give you?" demanded Giulia, painfully alarmed.

"A few lines written by thy fair hand to my dictation," answered Stephano.

Giulia cast upon him a look of profound surprise.

"Here, lady, take my tablets, for I see that your own are not at hand,"

cried the chief. "Delay not--it grows late, and we may be interrupted."

"We may indeed," murmured Giulia, darting a rapid look at the water-clock. "It is within a few minutes of midnight."

She might have added--"And at midnight I expect a brief visit from Manuel d'Orsini, ere the return of my husband from a banquet at a friend's villa." But of course this was her secret; and anxious to rid herself of the company of Stephano, she took the tablets with trembling hands and prepared to write.

"I, Giulia, Countess of Arestino," began the brigand, dictating to her, "confess myself to owe Stephano Verrina a deep debt of grat.i.tude for his kindness in recovering my diamonds from the possession of the Jew Isaachar, to whom they were pledged for a sum which I could not pay."

"But wherefore this doc.u.ment?" exclaimed the countess, looking up in a searching manner at the robber-chief; for she had seated herself at the table to write, and he was leaning over the back of her chair.

"'Tis my way at times," he answered, carelessly, "when I perform some service for a n.o.ble lord or a great lady, to solicit an acknowledgment of this kind in preference to gold." Then, sinking his voice to a low whisper, he added with an air of deep meaning, "Who knows but that this doc.u.ment may some day save my head?"

Giulia uttered a faint shriek, for she comprehended in a moment how cruelly she might sooner or later be compromised through that doc.u.ment, and how entirely she was placing herself in the bandit's power.

But Stephano's hand clutched the tablets whereon the countess had, almost mechanically, written to his subtle dictation; and he said, coolly: "Fear not, lady--I must be reduced to a desperate strait indeed when my safety shall depend on the use I can make of this fair handwriting."

Giulia felt partially relieved by this a.s.surance: and it was with ill-concealed delight that she acknowledged the ceremonial bow with which the bandit-chief intimated his readiness to depart.

But at that moment three low and distinct knocks were heard at the little door behind the arras.

Giulia's countenance became suffused with blushes: then, instantly recovering her presence of mind, she said in a rapid, earnest tone, "He who is coming knows nothing concerning the jewels, and will be surprised to find a stranger with me. Perhaps he may even recognize you--perhaps he knows you by sight----"

"What would you have me do, lady?" demanded Stephano. "Speak, and I obey you."

"Conceal yourself--here--and I will soon release you."

She raised the tapestry on the side opposite to that by which Stephano had entered the room; and the robber-chief hid himself in the wide interval between the hangings in the wall.

All this had scarcely occupied a minute; and Giulia now hastened to open the private door, which instantly gave admittance to the young, handsome, and dissipated Marquis of Orsini.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE LOVE OF WOMAN--GIULIA AND HER LOVER.

Silence, and calmness, and moonlight were without the walls of the Arestino villa; for the G.o.ddess of night shone sweetly but coldly on the city of Florence, and a.s.serted her empire even over the clouds that ere now had seemed laden with storm. Nor beamed she there alone--that fair Diana; for a countless host of handmaidens--the silver-faced stars--had spread themselves over the deep purple sky; and there--there--they all shone in subdued and modest glory--those myriads of beacons floating on the eternal waves of that far-off and silent sea!

Shine on, sweet regent of the night--and ye, too, silver-faced stars, whose countenances are reflected and multiplied endlessly, as they are rocked to and fro, on the deep blue bosom of the Arno; while on the banks of that widely-famed stream, Nature herself, as if wearied of her toils, appears to be sleeping.

Would that the soul of man could thus lie down in its night of sorrow or of racking pa.s.sion, on the margin of the waters of hope, confident that the slumber of contentment and peace will seal his eyelids, heavy with long vigils in a world where conflicting interests need constant watching, and that the stillness of the unfathomable depths of those waters will impart its influence unto him!

For, oh! if calmness, silence, and moonlight prevail without the walls of the Arestino villa, yet within there be hearts agitated by pa.s.sions and emotions, from which the gentle genius of slumber shrinks back aghast.

In the brilliantly lighted apartment, to which we have already introduced our readers, the Countess Giulia receives her lover, the dissipated but handsome Marquis of Orsini; the bandit-captain is concealed behind the richly-worked tapestry; and at the door--not the little private one--of that room, an old man is listening; an old man whose ashy pale countenance, clinched hands, quivering white lips, and wildly rolling eyes indicate how terrible are the feelings which agitate within his breast.

This old man was the Count of Arestino, one of the mightiest n.o.bles of the republic. Naturally his heart was good, and his disposition kind and generous--but, then, he was an Italian--and he was jealous! Need we say more to account for the change which had now taken place in his usually calm, tranquil, yet dignified, demeanor? Or shall we inform our readers that at the banquet to which he had been invited at a friend's villa that evening, he had overheard two young n.o.bles, in a conversation which the generous wine they had been too freely imbibing rendered indiscreetly loud, couple the names of Giulia Arestino, his own much-loved wife, and Manuel d'Orsini, in a manner which suddenly excited a fearful, a blasting suspicion in his mind? Stealing away unperceived from the scene of revelry, the count had returned unattended to the immediate vicinity of his mansion; and from the shade of a detached building he had observed the Marquis of Orsini traverse the gardens and enter a portico leading to the private staircase communicating with that wing of the palace which contained the suit of apartments occupied by Giulia.

This was enough to strengthen the suspicion already excited in the old n.o.bleman's mind; but not quite sufficient to confirm it. The countess had several beautiful girls attached to her person; and the marquis might have stooped to an intrigue with one of them. The Lord of Arestino was therefore resolved to act with the caution of a prudent man: but he was also prepared to avenge, in case of the worst, with the spirit of an Italian.

He hurried round to the princ.i.p.al entrance of his palace, and gave some brief but energetic instructions to a faithful valet, who instantly departed to execute them. The count then ascended the marble staircase, traversed the corridors leading toward his lady's apartments, and placed himself against the door of that one wherein Giulia had already received her lover.

Thus, while silence, and calmness, and moonlight reign without--yet within the walls of the Arestino mansion a storm has gathered, to explode fearfully. And all through the unlawful, but not less ardent, love of Giulia for the spendthrift Marquis of Orsini!