Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf Part 13

She traversed these grounds with hasty steps, pa.s.sing the boundary which separated them from the gardens of Wagner's dwelling, and then relaxing her pace, advanced with more caution to the windows of this very apartment where Agnes had been so alarmed two months previously, by observing the countenance at the cas.e.m.e.nt.

But all was now dark within. Wagner was not in his favorite room--for Nisida _knew_ that this was her lover's favorite apartment.

Perhaps he had not yet returned?

Thus thought the lady; and she walked slowly round the s.p.a.cious dwelling, which, like the generality of the patrician mansions of Florence in those times--as indeed is now the case to a considerable extent--stood in the midst of extensive gardens.

There were lights in the servants' offices; but every other room seemed dark. No; one window in the front, on the ground-floor, shone with the l.u.s.ter of a lamp.

Nisida approached it, and beheld Agnes reclining in a pensive manner on a sofa in a small but elegantly-furnished apartment. Her countenance was immediately overclouded; and for an instant she lingered to gaze upon the sylph-like form that was stretched upon that ottoman. Then she hastily pursued her way; and, having perfected the round of the building, once more reached the windows of her lover's favorite room.

Convinced that he had not returned, and fearful of being observed by any of the domestics who might happen to pa.s.s through the gardens, Nisida retraced her way toward the dwelling of Dr. Duras. But her heart was now heavy, for she knew not how to act.

Her original object was to obtain an interview with Wagner that very night, and learn, if possible, the reason of his extraordinary conduct toward her: for the idea of remaining in suspense for many long, long hours, was painful in the extreme to a woman of her excitable nature.

She was, however, compelled to resign herself to this alternative; and, having let herself through the wicket belonging to the physician's gardens, she directed her steps homeward.

On her way she pa.s.sed by the gate of the Convent of Carmelite Nuns--one of the wealthiest, most strictly disciplined, and celebrated monastic establishments in the Florentine Republic.

It appeared that a sudden thought here struck her; for ascending to the steep leading to the gate, she paused beneath the lamp of the deep Gothic portico, took out her tablets, and hastily wrote the following words:

"Donna Nisida of Riverola requests an interview with the Lady Abbess Maria to-morrow at midday, on a matter seriously regarding the spiritual welfare of a young female who has shown great and signal disregard for the rites and ordinances of the most Holy Catholic Church: and in respect to whom the most severe measures must be adopted. Donna Nisida will visit the holy mother to-morrow at midday."

Having written these words, Nisida tore off the leaf and thrust it through a small square grating set in the ma.s.sive door of the convent.

Then ringing the bell to call attention to the gate, she hastily pursued her way homeward.

She had gained the gardens of the Riverola mansion, and was advancing toward the door of the private staircase leading to her chamber, when she suddenly perceived two dark figures standing within a few yards of her. Fearful that they might be domestics belonging to the household, she hastily and noiselessly retreated within the deep shade of the wall of the mansion, and there she remained motionless.

We must now detail the conversation which pa.s.sed between the two individuals whose presence in the garden had thus alarmed the Lady Nisida.

"But are you sure of what you say, Antonio?" demanded one of the men.

"By Saint Jacopo! I cannot be mistaken," was the reply. "The closet has been locked up for years and years, and the old count always used to keep the keys in an iron chest, which was also carefully locked and chained round. What can the place possibly contain but a treasure?"

"After all it is only conjecture on your part; and that being the case, it is not worth while to risk one's life----"

"You are a coward, Stephano!" exclaimed Antonio, angrily. "The closet has got a heavy, ma.s.sive door, and a prodigiously strong lock; and if these precautions were not adopted to protect a h.o.a.rd of wealth, why were they taken at all, let me ask you?"

"There is something in what you say," replied Stephano; "but you do wrong to call me a coward. If it were not that we were cousins, and linked by a bond of long maintained friends.h.i.+p, I would send my rapier through your doublet in a twinkling."

"Nay; I do not mean to anger thee, Stephano," cried the valet. "But let us speak lower: chafe not, I pray thee!"

"Well--well!" said the other, gloomily; "go on, in the name of your patron saint! Only keep a guard upon your tongue, for it wags somewhat too freely; and remember that a man who has been for fifteen years the captain of as gallant a band as ever levied contributions on the lieges of the republic, is not to have '_coward_' thrown in his teeth."

"Let it pa.s.s, good Stephano!" urged the valet. "I tell thee that a closet whereof I have spoken, can contain naught save a treasure--perhaps in gold--perhaps in ma.s.sive plate."

"We can dispose of either to our advantage," observed the bandit, with a coa.r.s.e chuckle.

"Will you undertake the business?" demanded Antonio.

"I will," was the resolute answer; "and as much to convince you that Stephano is not a coward, as for any other reason. But when is it to be done? and why did you make an appointment to meet me here, of all places in Florence?"

"It can be done when you choose," replied Antonio; "and as for the other questions, I desired you to meet me here, because I knew that you would not refuse a fine chance; and, suspecting this much it was necessary to show you the geography of the place."

"Good!" observed the robber-chief. "To-morrow night I have a little affair in hand for a reverend and holy father, who is sure to be chosen superior of his order if his rival in the candidature be removed; and in four-and-twenty hours the said rival must be food for the fishes of the Arno."

"Then the night after that?" suggested Antonio.

"Pre-engaged again," returned the bandit-captain coolly. "A wealthy countess has been compelled to pledge her diamonds to a Jew; on Sunday next she must appear with her husband at the palace of the Medici; and on Sat.u.r.day night, therefore, the diamonds must be recovered from the Jew."

"Then the husband knows not that they are so pledged?" said Antonio.

"Scarcely," answered the brigand. "They were deposited with the Jew for a loan which the countess raised to accommodate her lover. Now do you understand?"

"Perfectly. What say you to next Monday night?"

"I am at your service," responded Stephano. "Monday will suit me admirably, and midnight shall be the hour. And now instruct me in the nature of the locality."

"Come with me, and I will show you by which way you and your comrades must effect an entry," said Antonio.

The valet and the robber-chief now moved away from the spot where they had stood to hold the above conversation; and the moment they had turned the adjacent angle of the mansion, Nisida hastened to regain her apartment by the private staircase--resolving, however, to see Wagner as early as possible in the morning.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE LAST MEETING OF AGNES AND THE STRANGER LADY.

While all nature was wrapped in the listening stillness of admiration at the rising sun, Fernand Wagner dragged himself painfully toward his home.

His garments were besmeared with mud and dirt; they were torn, too, in many places; and here and there were stains of blood, still wet, upon them.

In fact, had he been dragged by a wild horse through a thicket of brambles, he could scarcely have appeared in a more wretched plight.

His countenance was ghastly pale; terror still flashed from his eyes, and despair sat on his lofty brow.

Stealing through the most concealed part of his garden, he was approaching his own mansion with the air of a man who returns home in the morning after having perpetrated some dreadful deed of turpitude under cover of the night.

But the watchful eyes of a woman have marked his coming from the lattice of her window; and in a few minutes Agnes, light as a fawn, came bounding toward him, exclaiming, "Oh! what a night of uneasiness have I pa.s.sed, Fernand! But at length thou art restored to me--thou whom I have ever loved so fondly; although," she added, mournfully, "I abandoned thee for so long a time!"

And she embraced him tenderly.

"Agnes!" cried Fernand, repulsing her with an impatience which she had never experienced at his hands before: "wherefore thus act the spy upon me? Believe me, that although we pa.s.s ourselves off as brother and sister, yet I do not renounce that authority which the real nature of those ties that bind us together----"

"Fernand! Fernand! this to me!" exclaimed Agnes, bursting into tears.

"Oh! how have I deserved such reproaches?"