Riddle do I say? No! it was a riddle no longer, save as to the visit of the Contessa to the vault10 of her family, for otherwise everything was clear enough. She had met Pallanza at Rome, and had fallen in love with his handsome face. The young man, flattered by the attentions of a great lady, had yielded readily enough to the charm of the situation, but, growing tired of the intrigue11, had come to Verona, where Bianca awaited him, with the intention of breaking it off. With a woman of Giulietta Morone's fiery12 nature the sequel can easily be guessed--she had followed him hither, and having in some way forced him to come to the deserted13 palace, had there poisoned him out of revenge for his contemplated14 infidelity.
Of course, this was all theoretical, but from one thing and another I guessed that this could be the only feasible way of accounting15 for the whole affair. Two points, however, remained to be cleared up before the reading of the riddle could be successfully accomplished16: the first being the reason of the burial-ground episode, the second the strange disappearance17 of the dead man's body.
In thinking over the legend related by Peppino, one thing struck me as peculiar--that Donna Renata had never been seen again after her husband entered the chamber, and I guessed from this that there was some secret oubliette or alcove18 in the room, with a concealed19 entrance in which Mastino Morone had entombed his guilty wife as a punishment for her crimes. Doubtless, from tradition or from old family papers, Madame Morone knew of this secret hiding-place, and having killed Pallanza, had put his body therein so as to destroy all evidences of her criminality. No one had seen Pallanza enter this deserted palace, so once his body was hidden in the secret alcove it would remain there for ever undiscovered, and no human being, save the Contessa herself, could ever tell what had become of him. She, for her own sake, would remain silent, and thus Guiseppe Pallanza's fate would remain a mystery for evermore.
Fortunately, however, God, who had thus permitted this evil woman to conceive and carry out her crime, had also permitted me to behold20 the murder, so that, secure as she no doubt felt of her safety, yet one word from me and the whole affair would be revealed. I never thought, however, of going to the Veronese police and telling them what I had seen, as in their suspicions of foreigners they would doubtless regard me as an accessory, and thus I would get myself into trouble, which I had no desire to do. I therefore determined21 to once more go to the fatal chamber and make a final effort to discover what had become of the body of the unfortunate Pallanza.
So far so good, but now the question arose, how much of this story was I to reveal to Bianca? I could not tell her the whole, for if the body of her lover were discovered, the poor child would suffer quite enough without the additional information of Guiseppe's infidelity; so, making a virtue22 of necessity, I determined upon telling her a pious23 lie. To do this it was necessary to leave out the Contessa Morone altogether, as the least mention of a woman's name would arose Bianca's suspicions, and for the Contessa I substituted a robber, who had decoyed Guiseppe to the deserted palace by means of a false letter, and there ended his life. Of course it was somewhat difficult to be consistent in the narrative24; but I was so anxious to hide the cruel truth of Pallanza's worthlessness from Bianca that I went over the story I had invented, again and again, until I thought I had the whole pious fraud quite perfect.
Having thus arranged my plans, I arose, finished my roll and coffee, then, having dressed myself rapidly, set off at once for the Casa Angello, as it was nearly time for my lesson. All my bruises25 were now quite well, yet I felt very depressed26 and downcast, as the state of nervous excitement which I had been in for the last few days had told terribly on my system. However, having once put my hand to the plough I could not, with satisfaction to myself, turn back; and although I heartily27 dreaded28 the coming interview with Bianca, yet it was unavoidable, as the poor child was so anxious over her lost lover that it was necessary to tell my fictitious29 story without delay in order to set her mind at rest.
On my arrival at the Casa Angello I found no one there but Bianca, who was anxiously awaiting me. It appeared that the Maestro had taken it into his head that he would like a walk in the sunshine, and had gone out under the care of Petronella; but, as Bianca knew I was coming to take my usual lesson, and was anxious to hear if I had any news of her lover, she remained indoors to speak to me.
The "Fiorè della Casa," as old Petronella tenderly called her in the poetic30 language of the Italians, looked even paler than usual, and the dark shadows under her dark eyes made them appear wonderfully large and star-like. She had a bunch of delicate lilies-of-the-valley in the bosom31 of her white dress, and she looked as pale and blanched32 as the frail33 flowers themselves. Lying back on the green-covered sofa on which she was seated, she reminded me of a late snowflake resting on the emerald grass of early spring, which at any moment might vanish under the pale rays of the sun.
We were talking together in the room in which I generally had my lessons, and my eyes wandered from one thing to another with vague hesitation34 as I looked everywhere but on the face of this delicate girl to whom I had to tell such a cruel story--for, soften35 it as I might, the story was cruel and could not fail to affect her terribly. Every object in the apartment photographed itself on my memory with terrible distinctness, and, even after the lapse36 of years, by simply closing my eyes I can recall the whole scene with the utmost truthfulness37. The dull red of the terra-cotta floor, the heavy time-worn furniture, covered with faded green rep, the small ebony piano with its glistening38 white keys alternating with the black, the mirror-fronted press in which Petronella kept everything from food to clothes, the many photographs of operatic celebrities39, and the gaudily40 painted picture of St. Paul, the Maestro's patron saint, encircled by a faded wreath of withered41 laurel-leaves and dead flowers, flung to some favourite pupil in her hour of triumph. Even the view from the window I can recall, with the slender campanile tower, from whence every quarter rang the brazen42 bells, and then the faltering43 voice of Bianca, "Fiorè della Casa," stealing like a melancholy44 wind through the silence of the room.
"Signor!" she said, twisting her thin white hands nervously45 together, "you have something to tell me of Guiseppe. I can see it in your face--is it good or evil?"
"What does my face tell you, Signorina?"
"Evil, evil! your eyes are sad, your mouth does not smile! Oh, tell me quickly what you know! Is he found? is he ill? is he--dead?"
She brought out the last word in a shrill46 scream, with dilated47 eyes that almost terrified me by the fear expressed in them, and, dreading48 the effect of a sudden shock on this fragile child, I hastily replied in the negative.
"No, Signorina, no! Do not look so fearful, I pray you. He is not dead. Child, I am sure he is not dead!"
"Then you have not found him yet?"
"No; I have not found him, but I think I know where he is to be found."
"What do you mean, Signor Hugo, tell me all--tell me all. See, I am strong, I can bear it--I wish to know everything."
"Signorina, the note which Guiseppe Pallanza received at the Ezzelino was not from a friend but from an enemy."
"An enemy!"
"Yes! from one who wished him ill. Thinking it was from his dying friend, he obeyed the letter and was lured49 to the deserted Palazzo Morone."
"I do not know that palazzo, Signor. I am a stranger in Verona."
"I know where it is, Signorina, for on that night I was wandering about near it, when I saw Pallanza go into it alone. Knowing the evil reputation of the place, I followed him, although he was a stranger to me. He went to a room in the palace where his enemy met him, and--and----"
"Yes! yes, Signor--for the love of the Saints, go on."
"I can tell you no more, Signorina, except that I do not believe Guiseppe left that room again. I believe he is there still, perhaps held captive by the robber who lured him thither50 in the hope of obtaining a ransom51."
Bianca looked at me searchingly. She was a simple little thing as a rule, but this ridiculous story I had manufactured of brigands52 in the heart of Verona was too much even for her confiding53 nature, and she made a gesture of disbelief.
"It is not true! it is not true!" she cried vehemently54. "Why do you deceive me, Signor?"
"I am not deceiving you."
"An enemy! a false letter! a deserted palace! held captive! Oh, I cannot believe it. If it is true, why did you not rescue him?"
"Because some one I do not know seized me from behind as I watched, and, rendering55 me insensible with chloroform, bore me away from the palace. I had great difficulty in finding it again, I assure you."
"Signor, your story is that of a dream. I cannot believe you."
"It is true, nevertheless."
Bianca said nothing, but tapped her little foot on the ground with a thoughtful frown on her small face. I was glad that my task was over, for absurd as was the story I had told her, it was more merciful than the truth. Now that I had to some extent quieted her fears by telling her that Guiseppe was alive--a thing, alas56! that I could not be certain of myself--I hoped to get away at once to the Palazzo Morone and make one last effort to find his body. If I failed there would be nothing left for me to do but to inform the police, and in the interests of Bianca I was unwilling57 to do this until I had exhausted58 every means of solving the mystery myself.
Suddenly Bianca's face cleared, and she looked at me with steady determination.
"Signor, you know this palazzo?"
"Yes, Signorina."
"And this room where you think Guiseppe is held captive?"
"I do, Signorina."
"Then take me to it at once."
She started to her feet with a deep flush on her face, and threw out her hands towards me with an appealing gesture. As for me, I sat still, transfixed with astonishment59 at the spirit displayed by this gentle girl, who was thus willing to dare the dangers, of the unknown in order to save her lover.
"Take me to it at once!" she repeated quickly.
"Signorina, I--I cannot. You are mad to think of such a thing."
"Is your story true or false, Signor Hugo?"
"True! yes, it is true!"
"Then I will judge of its truth myself--with my own eyes. Wait, I will put on my hat, and you will take me to this palazzo at once."
"Signorina----"
"Not another word, I have made up my mind. You promised to be my friend, Signor Hugo. I hold you to that promise. Ecco!"
She was gone before I could utter further remonstrance60, and during her absence I reflected rapidly. It was true that Guiseppe was dead, that I believed his body was concealed somewhere in that room, so perhaps after all it was best that Bianca should come, as her quick woman's wit might succeed where I had failed. She knew nothing about the implication of the Contessa Morone in the affair, the palazzo would be quite deserted during the daytime, so I would be able to take her there, let her examine the room, and if by chance the truth was revealed that Guiseppe was dead, it would be a more merciful way than by the lips of a stranger. Yes, I would take her there at once. If we failed in our mission she would be no wiser than before, but if we succeeded--ah! how I pitied the poor child if we succeeded in finding out the terrible secret of the Contessa. At this moment she returned trembling with ill-suppressed excitement.
"Well, Signor Hugo, are you ready--are you willing to help me?"
"With all my heart, Signorina."
"Ebbene! come, then."
She ran lightly out of the room, and I followed with a heavy heart, for I had a presentiment61 of evil. I feared that fatal chamber, which held so many impure62 memories--I feared the discovery of the dead--I feared for this child who went forward in ignorance to face such horrors.
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1
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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9
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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12
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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13
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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14
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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accounting
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| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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20
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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28
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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29
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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31
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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32
blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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33
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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35
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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36
lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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37
truthfulness
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| n. 符合实际 | |
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38
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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39
celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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40
gaudily
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| adv.俗丽地 | |
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41
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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42
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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44
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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45
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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46
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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47
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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49
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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50
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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51
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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52
brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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53
confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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55
rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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56
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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57
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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58
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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59
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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60
remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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61
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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62
impure
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| adj.不纯净的，不洁的；不道德的，下流的 | |
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