Sober-minded men, philosophic reasoners, persons of business-habits, stern moralists--all these may ridicule the poet or the novelist who makes Love his everlasting theme; they may hug themselves, in the apathy of their own cold hearts, with the belief that all the attributes of the pa.s.sion have been immensely exaggerated; but they are in error, deeply, profoundly, indisputably in error. For Love, in its various phases, among which are Jealousy, Suspicion, Infidelity, Rivalry, and Revenge, has agitated the world from time immemorial--has overthrown empires, has engendered exterminating wars, and has extended its despotic sway alike over the gorgeous city of a consummate civilization, and the miserable wigwam of a heathen barbarism! Who, then, can wonder--if the theme of Love be universal--that it should have evoked the rude and iron eloquence of the Scandinavian Scald as well as the soft and witching poesy of the bards of more genial climes, or that its praises or its sorrows should be sung on the banks of the Arno, the Seine, or the Thames, as well as amidst the pathless forests of America, or the burning sands of Africa, or in the far-off islands of the Southern Seas.

But, alas! it is thou, O woman! who art called on to make the most cruel sacrifices at the altar of this imperious deity--love! If thou lovest honorably, 'tis well; but if thou lovest unlawfully how wretched is thy fate! The lover, for whose sake thou hast forgotten thy duties as a wife, has sacrificed nothing to thee, whilst thou hast sacrificed everything to him. Let the _amour_ be discovered, and who suffers? Thou!

He loses not caste, station, name, nor honor;--thou art suddenly robbed of all these! The gilded saloons of fashion throw open their doors to the seducer; but bars of adamant defend that entrance against the seduced. For his sake thou risketh contumely, shame, reviling, scorn, and the lingering death of a breaking heart,--for _thee_ he would not risk one millionth part of all that! Shouldst thou be starving, say to him, "Go forth and steal to give me bread; dare the dishonor of the deed, and make the sacrifice of thy good name for me. Or go and forge, or swindle, or lie foully, so that thou bringest me bread; for have I not dared dishonor, made the sacrifice of my good name, and done as much, ay, far more than all that, for thee?"

Shouldst thou, poor, seduced, weak one, address thy seducer thus, he will look upon thee as a fiend-like tempter--he will rush from thy sight--he will never see thee more; his love will be suddenly converted into hatred! Yes, man demands that woman should dishonor herself for _his_ sake; but he will not allow a speck to appear upon what he calls _his_ good name--no, not to save that poor, confiding, lost creature from the lowest depths and dregs of penury into which her frailty may have plunged her!

Such is the selfishness of man! Where is his chivalry?

But let us return to the Arestino Palace.

The moment Manuel d'Orsini entered the apartment by means of the private door, he embraced Giulia with a fondness which was more than half affected--at least on that occasion--and she herself returned the kiss less warmly than usual--but this was because she was constrained and embarra.s.sed by the presence of the bandit-captain, who was concealed behind the tapestry.

"You appear cool--distant, Giulia," said Manuel, casting upon her an inquiring glance.

"And you either love me less, or you have something on your mind,"

returned the countess, in a low tone.

"In the first instance you are wrong--in the second you are right, my well-beloved," answered the marquis. "But tell me----"

"Speak lower, Manuel--we may be overheard. Some of my dependents are in the adjacent room, and----"

"And you wish me to depart as soon as possible, no doubt?" said the marquis, impatiently.

"Oh! Manuel--how can you reproach me thus?" asked Giulia, in a voice scarcely above a whisper; for that woman who dared be unfaithful to her husband revolted from the thought that a coa.r.s.e-minded bandit should be in a position to overhear her conversation with her lover:--"how can you reproach me thus, Manuel?" she repeated;--"have I not given thee all the proofs of tenderest love which woman can bestow? Have I not risked everything for thee?"

"I do not reproach you, Giulia," he replied, pressing his hand to his brow, "but I am unhappy--miserable!"

And he flung himself upon the nearest ottoman.

"Oh! what has occurred to distract thee thus?" exclaimed the countess, forgetting the presence of Stephano Verrina in the all-absorbing interest of her lover's evident grief.

"Am I ever to find thee oppressed with care--thee, who art so young--and so gloriously handsome?" she added, her voice suddenly sinking to a whisper.

Manuel gazed for a few moments, without speaking, on the countenance of his mistress as she leant over him: then, in a deep, hollow tone--a tone the despair of which was too real and natural to be in the slightest degree affected, he said, "Giulia, I am a wretch,--unworthy of all this sweet love of thine!--I have broken the solemn vow which I pledged thee--I have violated my oath----"

"Oh, Manuel!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the countess, still forgetting the presence of the bandit: "thou hast----"

"Gambled once more--and lost!" cried the marquis wildly. "And the sum that I am bound in honor to pay on Monday--by noon, is nearly equal in amount to that which thy generosity lent me the other day."

"Holy Virgin aid you, my unhappy Manuel!" said Giulia.

"For thou canst not?" exclaimed the young n.o.ble, with a profound sigh.

"Oh! I am well aware that I have no claim upon thee----"

"Ah! wherefore that reproach?--for a reproach it is!" interrupted the countess. "No claim on me! Hast thou not my heart? and in giving thee that, Manuel, I laid at thy feet a poor offering, which, though so poor, yet absorbs all others of which I may dispose! Do not reproach me, Manuel--for I would lay down my life to save thy soul from pain, or thy name from dishonor!"

"Now art thou my own Giulia!" cried the marquis, pressing her hand to his lips. "An accursed fatality seems to hang over me! This habit of gaming entraps me as the wine cup fascinates the bibber who would fain avoid it, but cannot. Listen to me for one moment, Giulia. In the public casino--which, as thou well knowest, is a place of resort where fortunes are lost and won in an hour--ay, sometimes in a minute--I have met a man whose attire is good, and whose purse is well filled, but whose countenance I like as little as I should that of the captain of the sbirri, or his lieutenant, if I had committed a crime. This individual of whom I speak--for I know not his name--was the favored votary of Dame Fortune who won of me that sum which thy kindness, Giulia, alone enabled me to pay but a few days past. And now am I a second time this man's debtor. An hour ago he entered the casino; he stayed but for ten minutes--and in that time----"

"Oh! Manuel, is not this conduct of thine something bordering on madness?" interrupted the countess. "And if thou art thus wedded to that fatal habit, how canst thou find room in thy heart for a single gleam of affection for me?"

"Now dost thou reproach me in thy turn, Giulia!" exclaimed the young marquis. "But believe me, my angel," he continued, exerting all his powers to bend her to his purpose,--"believe me when I declare--oh! most solemnly declare, by all that I put faith in, and by all I hope for hereafter--that could I be relieved from this embarra.s.sment--extricated from this difficulty----"

"Heavens! how can it be done?" interrupted the countess, casting her eyes wildly round; for the time was pa.s.sing--she suddenly remembered that the bandit was still concealed in the room--and then, her husband might return earlier than was expected.

"Oh! if you despair of the means, Giulia," said the marquis, "I must fly from Florence--I must exile myself forever from the city of my birth, and which is still more endeared to me because," he added, sinking his voice to a tender tone,--"because, my well-beloved, it contains thee!"

"No, Manuel--you must not quit Florence and leave a dishonored name behind thee!" exclaimed this lovely woman, who was thus sublimely careful of the reputation of him for whom she had so long compromised her own. "What can be done? would that I had the means to raise this sum----"

"It is with shame that I suggest----" said Manuel.

"What? Speak--speak! The means?"

"Thy jewels, dearest--thy diamonds----"

"Merciful heavens! if you did but know all!" cried Giulia, almost frantically. "These diamonds were pledged to the Jew Isaachar ben Solomon, to raise the sum with which thy last debt was paid, Manuel; and--but forgive me if I did not tell thee all this before--not half an hour has elapsed since----"

She stopped short; for she knew that the bandit overheard every syllable she uttered.

Nor had she time, even if she possessed the power, to continue her most painful explanation; for scarcely had she thus paused abruptly, when the door burst open, and the Count of Arestino stood in the presence of the guilty pair.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE INJURED HUSBAND--THE GUILTY WIFE--AND THE INSOLENT LOVER.

In fury of heart and agony of mind, rushed the old lord into that apartment. Oh! how had he even been able to restrain himself so long, while listening at the door? It was that the conversation between his wife and the marquis had, as the reader is aware, been carried on in so low a tone--especially on the side of the countess, that he had not been able to gather sufficient to place beyond all doubt the guilt of that fair creature; and even in the midst of his Italian ire, he had clung to the hope that she might have been imprudent--but not culpable, as yet!

Oh! in this case, how gladly would that old lord have forgiven the past, on condition of complete reformation for the future! He would have removed his young wife afar from the scene of temptation--to a distant estate which he possessed; and there by gentle remonstrances and redoubled attention, he would have sought to bind her to him by the links of grat.i.tude and respect, if not by those of love.

But this dream--so honorable to that old man's heart--was not to be realized; for scarcely was it conceived, when the discourse of the youthful pair turned upon the diamonds--those diamonds which he had given her on the bridal day!

Giulia spoke clearly and plainly enough _then_--in spite of the presence of the bandit in that chamber; for she was about to explain to her lover how willingly she would comply with his suggestion to raise upon the jewels the sum he again required--a readiness on her part which might be corroborated by the fact that she had already once had recourse to this expedient, and for _him_--but she dared not adopt the same course again, as her husband might detect the absence of the valuables ere she could obtain funds to redeem them.

When she acknowledged to her lover that "these diamonds were pledged to the Jew Isaachar ben Solomon, to raise the sum with which his last debt was paid," it flashed to the old n.o.bleman's mind that his wife had exhibited some little confusion when he had spoken to her a day or two previously concerning her jewels: and now it was clear that they had been used as the means to supply the extravagances of an unprincipled spendthrift. How could he any longer cling to the hope that Giulia was imprudent only, and not guilty? Must she not be guilty, to have made so large a sacrifice and run so great a risk for the sake of the Marquis of Orsini?

It was under the influence of these excited feelings that the Count of Arestino burst into the room.

Fortunately--so far as outward appearance went--there was nothing more to confirm the old n.o.bleman's suspicions; the youthful pair were not locked in each other's arms; their hands were not even joined. Manuel was seated on the sofa, and Giulia was standing at a short distance from him.

But conscious guilt elicited a faint scream from her lips; and the boiling blood, after rushing to her countenance, seemed to ebb away as rapidly again--leaving her beauteous face as pale as marble; while she clung to the mantel-piece for support.

"I am glad that your lordship is returned," said the marquis, rising from his seat and advancing toward the count in a manner so insolently cool and apparently self-possessed, that Giulia was not only astonished but felt her courage suddenly revive: "I was determined--however uncourteous the intrusion and unseemly the hour--to await your lordship's coming; and as her ladyship a.s.sured me that you would not tarry late----"

"My lord marquis," interrupted the old n.o.bleman, who was himself so taken by surprise at this unembarra.s.sed mode of address, that he began to fancy his ears must have deceived him and his suspicions beguiled him; "on what business could you possibly have needed my services at this late hour?"