The Finger of Fate Part 36

"Now, signorina," he said, pointing to the house; "behold your future home! I regret I have not a grander mansion to receive you in; but such as it is, you are its mistress. Allow me to conduct you to your chamber."

With an air of a.s.sumed courtesy, he offered his arm, which the captive made no movement to take.

"_E cosi_!" he exclaimed, taking hold of her wrist, and drawing her up the stone steps. "Don't be so shy, lady. Step inside! You'll not find it so uncomfortable. There's a chamber specially fitted up for you with a sofa. You must be fatigued after your long march over the mountains.

Be seated, while I find something sweet to refresh you. Can you drink _rosolio_? Stay, here's better: a bottle of sparkling _Capri_."

As he was talking, with his back turned to the door, a third individual entered the apartment--a woman of considerable beauty, but with that bold, fierce look that tells a sad tale. She had walked into the room without noise, stealthily and catlike; and, still remaining silent, she stood just inside the door--her glance fixed upon Lucetta Torreani, her eyes scintillating, as though at each moment they emitted sparks of fire. It was the woman who had betrayed Popetta, with the ambitious aim of being her successor. At the sight of this new arrival, her hopes seemed extinguished, and the look of concentrated rage with which she regarded the young girl was fearful to behold. It caused the latter to utter a cry of alarm.

"_Chi senti_?" asked the brigand, turning suddenly around, and for the first time perceiving the intruder. "Ah! you it is! _Che tu sia maladetta_! Why are you here? Off to your own apartment! Off, I say!

_Largo_! _Largo_! This instant, or you shall feel the weight of my arm!"

The woman, awed by the threatening gesture, backed slowly out of the room; but as she pa.s.sed into the shadow of the corridor, the fierce flas.h.i.+ng of her eyes, accompanied by some words, low muttered, might have told Corvino that there was danger in what he was doing. He was too much engrossed with his evil design to think of it.

"Only one of my domestics, signorina," he said, turning once more towards his captive. "She should have been to bed hours ago. 'Tis for that I have scolded her. Don't let our little home-troubles make you unhappy. Drink this--it will refresh you."

"I have no need of it," replied the girl, scarce knowing what to say, at the same time pus.h.i.+ng aside the proffered cup.

"But you have, signorina. Come, my fair girl--drink! Then for some supper. You must be hungry, as well as fatigued."

"I cannot drink. I am not hungry. I cannot eat."

"What would you then? To bed? There's a couch in the next room. I am sorry I have no maids to help undress you. She whom you have just seen is not used to that kind of duty. You would prefer at once going to rest? Is that it, signorina?"

There was no reply. The young girl sat on the sofa with her head drooping down, till the chin touched her snow-white bosom. This was partially exposed--the b.u.t.tons having been torn from her bodice as she was dragged along in the company of her captors.

There had been tears upon her cheek; but they were now dried, their traces only remaining. She could not again weep. She had reached that crisis of agony no longer to be relieved by tears.

"Come!" said the brigand, affecting an air of sympathy, like some cunning serpent in the act of fascinating its victim. "Cheer up, signorina! I acknowledge the rude fas.h.i.+on by which I have made you my guest; but who could resist the temptation of having so beauteous a damsel under his roof? Ah, Lucetta! though you knew it not, I have long been your admirer; long been enslaved by your charms--that are celebrated far beyond the mountains of the Romagna. I've myself heard speak of them in the _salons_ of the Holy City. Ah! fair lady! being your captive, can you blame me for making you mine?"

"What would you, signor? Why have you brought me here?"

"What would I, signorina? What but have you love me as I love you? Why have I brought you here? Only to make you my wife!"

"_Madonna mia_!" murmured the girl, scarce listening to what he had said. "_O Madonna santissima_! What have I done to deserve this?"

"To deserve what?" asked the bandit, suddenly changing his tone. "To deserve becoming the wife of Corvino! You speak proudly, signorina.

'Tis true I am no grand _sindico_ like your father; nor yet a _povero pittore_ like the cur from whose company I have s.n.a.t.c.hed you. But I am master of the mountains--and of the plains too! Who dares dispute my will? You will find it law, my lady--ay, to the very gates of Rome."

After this outburst, the brigand paced for some seconds over the floor-- his step proud, strong, exultant.

"I love you, Lucetta Torreani," he continued after a time. "I love you with a pa.s.sion that does not deserve such cold repulse. You may not like the idea of becoming a bandit's wife; but remember, you become also a bandit's queen. There is not a plume in all the mountain land that won't bend to you--nor a hat that shall not be taken off in your presence. Throw aside your shyness, then, my pretty damsel! Don't have any fear of losing caste by becoming wife to the chieftain Corvino!"

"Your wife! Never!"

"Call it by another name, then--if you prefer stickling about terms. We don't have much formality in our mountain marriages, though we can get a priest when we want one. If you prefer the ceremony in a simpler way, I, for my part, shall have no objections to doing without the intervention of the _curato_. About that you shall have your choice."

"Death, then, shall it be! I shall choose that."

"_Eh giusta_! I like your spirit, signorina. It pleases me, almost as much as your personal appearance. Still it wants taming--just a little.

Twenty-four hours in my company will accomplish that; perhaps less.

But I give you the full allowance of twenty-four. If at the end of that time you do not consent to have our nuptials celebrated by the _curato_--there is one convenient--why, then we must get married without him. You understand that?"

"_Madonna mia_!"

"No use calling upon her. She cannot save you, immaculate as she is said to have been; nor any one else. No rescuing hand can reach you here--not even the hand of his Holiness. Among these mountains, the chieftain Corvino is master, as Lucetta Torreani shall be mistress."

Before the boast had fairly parted from his lips, a sound from without caused the brigand to start--changing, as if by electricity, his air of triumph to one of alarm.

"_Chi senti_?" he muttered, gliding towards the door, and placing himself in an att.i.tude to listen.

The howling of the Apennine wolf--"_wah, wah, oouah_!"--responded to by some one coming along the _scorza_. Almost at the same time, it was uttered on the other side--by the sentinel set towards the south, and soon after answered in that direction.

What could be the meaning of this? Which of the band had been abroad?

He could think only of Tommaso, whom he had that morning despatched on a particular errand. There could not be two Tommasos coming home-- simultaneously from the north and from the south!

He was not allowed much time for conjecture. Almost on the instant of his taking his stand in the doorway a struggle was heard on both sides of the house, followed by shots and shouts, amid which he could distinguish the voices of his own sentries, loudly vociferating the cry, "_Tradimento_!"

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.

A TERRIBLE TABLEAU.

And treason it was--treason and surprise--almost instantaneously followed by the capture of the whole band of brigands!

First the _pagliatta_ huts were surrounded, and then the house of the chief himself. There was a crowd of men, upon whose persons, despite the darkness, could be seen the bright glitter of arms. There was light enough from the stars and the chamber he had lately quitted to show Corvino that his quarters were completely enfiladed by dark shadowy forms, each holding in his hand a gun, pistol, or sword.

At the same instant was the strife going on among the _pagliatta_--stray shots and groans, mingled with, profane exclamations that came from the mouths of men dragged suddenly out of their beds, and scarce conscious of the cause of their quick awakening. It was a strife soon brought to its close--even before their chief could take part in it.

During a long career of crime, it was the first time Corvino had ever suffered surprise--the first for him to feel something like despair.

And at the very moment, too, when he was indulging in a delightful dream of triumph!

Who could have brought this calamity upon him? Who was the traitor?

There must have been treason, else how could his sentinels have been cheated? Who could have had acquaintance with the secret wolf-signal?

There was no time for him to reflect. Thoughts of vengeance must be postponed. It was a question of self-preservation; for the brigand chief found himself reduced to this.

His first impulse was to rush out, and take part in the fight raging between his band and those who had so mysteriously a.s.sailed it. But the conflict was scarce entered upon before it was over. It was less a strife than a capture; a seizing of men in their s.h.i.+rts, who surrendered without striking a blow. Even the thundering voice of their chief could not arouse his yawning partisans to the spirit required for a struggle.

It was but an ordinary instinct that impelled him to shut the door, and rush back to the room he had quitted, determined to defend himself to the death.

His first thought was putting out the light. His second, how could the darkness avail him? Sooner or later other lights would be procured-- candles or torches; or, if not, his a.s.sailants need only wait till morning--now near at hand. It could only be a suspension of his fate-- at best, a respite of two or three hours. All at once came an idea, offering a chance, not for triumph, but safety. There was a way by which he might still save his life. Let the light burn! Let his a.s.sailants see inside the house! Let them look upon the tableau that had just suggested itself to his imagination!

Quick as thought that tableau was formed, in the centre of the room already illuminated. It consisted of two figures--himself and Lucetta Torreani.

The young girl was in front; the brigand, as a background, behind her.

His left arm encircled her waist, with his hand clutching a stiletto, whose point was turned towards her heart! His right arm, still resting in the sling, was powerless to hold her. But he had contrived a strange way of keeping her in her place. His teeth were seen closed upon a coil of her hair!

Outside were the spectators of this singular picture, excited, angry, two of them almost mad. One was the brother of her who formed the female figure in it--the other Henry Harding. Either would have rushed through the window, but the bars forbade them; and although both carried guns and pistols, they dared not discharge them. They stood with a score of others, almost within touching distance of the outlaw; and yet dared not stretch forth a hand, either for his capture or destruction.