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} - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE SORCERESS OF ROME</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Sorceress of Rome" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Nathan Gallizier" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1907" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="The Kinneys" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="Verburg sorcer.rst:94: (INFO/1) Enumerated list start value not ordinal-1: "P" (ordinal 16)" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="43938" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-10-11" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Sorceress of Rome" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Sorceress of Rome" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="sorcer.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-10-12T03:15:31.054186+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43938" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Nathan Gallizier" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="The Kinneys" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="P. Verburg" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2013-10-11" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-sorceress-of-rome"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE SORCERESS OF ROME</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Sorceress of Rome -<br /> -<br />Author: Nathan Gallizier -<br /> -<br />Release Date: October 11, 2013 [EBook #43938] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE SORCERESS OF ROME</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 63%" id="figure-118"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover art" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover art</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 64%" id="figure-119"> -<span id="was-stephania-not-overacting-her-part"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Was Stephania not overacting her part? (See page 311)" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Was Stephania not overacting her part? (See page </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#id1">311</a><span class="italics">)</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 57%" id="figure-120"> -<img class="align-center block center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Title page" src="images/img-title.jpg" /> -<div class="caption center centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Title page</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="xx-large">THE -<br />SORCERESS -<br />OF ROME</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics x-large">NATHAN GALLIZIER</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">AUTHOR OF -<br />CASTEL DEL MONTE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">PICTURES BY -<br />THE KINNEYS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">DECORATIONS BY P. VERBURG</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE PAGE COMPANY -<br />BOSTON -<br />PUBLISHERS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright, 1907 -<br />BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY -<br />(INCORPORATED)</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Entered at Stationers' Hall, London</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">All rights reserved</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">First Impression, October, 1907 -<br />Second Impression, February, 1920</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">THE COLONIAL PRESS -<br />C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U.S.A.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Somewhere, in desolate wind-swept space,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In Twilight-land, in no-man's land,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Two hurrying shapes met face to face</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And bade each other stand.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And who are you?" cried one agape</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Shuddering in the gloaming light.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>"I know not," said the second shape,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"I only died last night."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 41%" id="figure-121"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="decoration" src="images/img-v.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">decoration</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 64%" id="figure-122"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="music fragment" src="images/img-vi.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">music fragment</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">INTRODUCTION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The darkness of the tenth century is dissipated by no -contemporary historian. Monkish chronicles alone shed a faint -light over the discordant chaos of the Italian world. Rome -was no longer the capital of the earth. The seat of empire had -shifted from the banks of the Tiber to the shores of the Bosporus, -and the seven hilled city of Constantine had assumed the -imperial purple of the ancient capital of the Cæsars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Centuries of struggles with the hosts of foreign invaders -had in time lowered the state of civilization to such a degree, -that in point of literature and art the Rome of the tenth century -could not boast of a single name worthy of being transmitted -to posterity. Even the memory of the men whose -achievements in the days of its glory constituted the pride and -boast of the Roman world, had become almost extinct. A -great lethargy benumbed the Italian mind, engendered by the -reaction from the incessant feuds and broils among the petty -tyrants and oppressors of the country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Together with the rest of the disintegrated states of Italy, -united by no common bond, Rome had become the prey of the -most terrible disorders. Papacy had fallen into all manner of -corruption. Its former halo and prestige had departed. The -chair of St. Peter was sought for by bribery and controlling -influence, often by violence and assassination, and the city was -oppressed by factions and awed into submission by foreign -adventurers in command of bands collected from the outcasts of -all nations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the day of Christmas in the year 800, when at the hands -of Pope Leo III, Charlemagne received the imperial crown -of the West, the German Kings dated their right as rulers of -Rome and the Roman world, a right, feebly and ineffectually -contested by the emperors of the East. It was the dream of -every German King immediately upon his election to cross the -Alps to receive at the hand of the Pope the crown of a country -which resisted and resented and never formally recognized a -superiority forced upon it. Thus from time to time we find -Rome alternately in revolt against German rule, punished, -subdued and again imploring the aid of the detested foreigners -against the misrule of her own princes, to settle the disputes -arising from pontifical elections, or as protection against -foreign invaders and the violence of contending factions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Plunged in an abyss from which she saw no other means of -extricating herself, harassed by the Hungarians in Lombardy -and the Saracens in Calabria, Italy had, in the year 961, called -on Otto the Great, King of Germany, for assistance. Little -opposition was made to this powerful monarch. Berengar II, -the reigning sovereign of Italy, submitted and agreed to hold -his kingdom of him as a fief. Otto thereupon returned to -Germany, but new disturbances arising, he crossed the Alps -a second time, deposed Berengar and received at the hands -of Pope John XII the imperial dignity nearly suspended for -forty years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every ancient prejudice, every recollection whether of -Augustus or Charlemagne, had led the Romans to annex the -notion of sovereignty to the name of Roman emperor, nor were -Otto and his two immediate descendants inclined to waive -these supposed prerogatives, which they were well able to -enforce. But no sooner had they returned to Germany than the -old habit of revolt seized the Italians, and especially the Romans -who were ill disposed to resume habits of obedience even to the -sovereign whose aid they had implored and received. The -flames of rebellion swept again over the seven hilled city -during the rule of Otto II, whose aid the Romans had invoked -against the invading hordes of Islam, and the same republican -spirit broke out during the brief, but fantastic reign of his son, -the third Otto, directing itself in the latter instance chiefly -against the person of the youthful pontiff, Bruno of Carinthia, -the friend of the King, whose purity stands out in marked -contrast against the depravity of the monsters, who, to the number -of ten, had during the past five decades defiled the throne of -the Apostle. Gregory V is said to have been assassinated during -Otto's absence from Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The third rebellion of Johannes Crescentius, Senator of Rome, -enacted after the death of the pontiff and the election of -Sylvester II, forms but the prelude to the great drama whose final -curtain was to fall upon the doom of the third Otto, of whose -love for Stephania, the beautiful wife of Crescentius, -innumerable legends are told in the old monkish chronicles and -whose tragic death caused a lament to go throughout the world -of the Millennium.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 50%" id="figure-123"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="decoration" src="images/img-ix.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">decoration</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 65%" id="figure-124"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="decoration" src="images/img-xi.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">decoration</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">BOOK THE FIRST</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">Chapter</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-grand-chamberlain">The Grand Chamberlain</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-pageant-in-the-navona">The Pageant in the Navona</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#on-the-palatine">On the Palatine</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-wanton-court-of-theodora">The Wanton Court of Theodora</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-wager">The Wager</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#john-of-the-catacombs">John of the Catacombs</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-vision-of-san-pancrazio">The Vision of San Pancrazio</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#castel-san-angelo">Castel San Angelo</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-sermon-in-the-ghetto">The Sermon in the Ghetto</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-sicilian-dancer">The Sicilian Dancer</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#nilus-of-gaeta">Nilus of Gaëta</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#red-falernian">Red Falernian</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#dead-leaves">Dead Leaves</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-phantom-at-the-shrine">The Phantom at the Shrine</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-death-watch">The Death Watch</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-conclave">The Conclave</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">BOOK THE SECOND</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-meeting">The Meeting</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-queen-of-night">The Queen of Night</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-elixir-of-love">The Elixir of Love</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-secret-of-the-tomb">The Secret of the Tomb</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-grottos-of-egeria">The Grottos of Egeria</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#beyond-the-grave">Beyond the Grave</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#ara-coeli">Ara Coeli</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-gothic-tower">The Gothic Tower</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-snare-of-the-fowler">The Snare of the Fowler</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-temple-of-neptune">The Temple of Neptune</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-incantation">The Incantation</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hermitage-of-nilus">The Hermitage of Nilus</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-lion-of-basalt">The Lion of Basalt</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-last-tryst">The Last Tryst</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-storm-of-castel-san-angelo">The Storm of Castel San Angelo</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-forfeit">The Forfeit</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#nemesis">Nemesis</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#vale-roma">Vale Roma</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">BOOK THE THIRD</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#paterno">Paterno</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#memories">Memories</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-consummation">The Consummation</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-angel-of-the-agony">The Angel of the Agony</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#return">Return</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 46%" id="figure-125"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="decoration" src="images/img-xii.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">decoration</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 71%" id="figure-126"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="decoration" src="images/img-xiiia.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">decoration</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#was-stephania-not-overacting-her-part">"Was Stephania not overacting her part?"</a><span> (</span><em class="italics">See page</em><span> </span><a class="reference internal" href="#id1">311</a><span>) </span><em class="italics">Frontispiece</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#looking-up-from-the-task-he-was-engaged-in">"Looking up from the task he was engaged in"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#persisting-in-his-endeavour-to-remove-her-mask">"Persisting in his endeavour to remove her mask"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-haunting-memories-of-stephania">"The haunting memories of Stephania"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 42%" id="figure-127"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="decoration" src="images/img-xiiib.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">decoration</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-grand-chamberlain"><span class="bold x-large">Book the First</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold xx-large">The Truce -<br />of God</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"As I came through the desert, thus it was</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>As I came through the desert: All was black,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>In heaven no single star, on earth no track;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A brooding hush without a stir or note,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The air so thick it clotted in my throat.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And thus for hours; then some enormous things</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Swooped past with savage cries and clanking wings;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>But I strode on austere;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>No hope could have no fear."</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>—</span><em class="italics">James Thomson</em><span>.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">BOOK THE FIRST</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE GRAND CHAMBERLAIN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-i.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t was the hour of high noon -on a sultry October day in -Rome, in the year of our Lord -nine hundred and ninety-nine. -In the porphyry cabinet of -the imperial palace on Mount -Aventine, before a table covered -with parchments and scrolls, -there sat an individual, who -even in the most brilliant -assembly would have attracted general and immediate attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Judging from his appearance he had scarcely passed his -thirtieth year. His bearing combined a marked grace and -intellectuality. The finely shaped head poised on splendid -shoulders denoted power and intellect. The pale, olive tints -of the face seemed to intensify the brilliancy of the black eyes -whose penetrating gaze revealed a singular compound of -mockery and cynicism. The mouth, small but firm, was not -devoid of disdain, and even cruelty, and the smile of the thin, -compressed lips held something more subtle than any passion -that can be named. His ears, hands and feet were of that -delicacy and smallness, which is held to denote aristocracy of -birth. And there was in his manner that indescribable -combination of unobtrusive dignity and affected elegance which, in -all ages and countries, through all changes of manners and -customs has rendered the demeanour of its few chosen -possessors the instantaneous interpreter of their social rank. -He was dressed in a crimson tunic, fastened with a clasp of -mother-of-pearl. Tight fitting hose of black and crimson -terminating in saffron-coloured shoes covered his legs, and a red -cap, pointed at the top and rolled up behind brought the head -into harmony with the rest of the costume.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now and then, Benilo, the Grand Chamberlain, cast quick -glances at the sand-clock on the table before him; at last -with a gesture of mingled impatience and annoyance, he -pushed back the scrolls he had been examining, glanced again -at the clock, arose and strode to a window looking out upon -the western slopes of Mount Aventine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sun was slowly setting, and the light green silken curtains -hung motionless, in the almost level rays. The stone houses of -the city and her colossal ruins glowed with a brightness almost -overpowering. Not a ripple stirred the surface of the Tiber, -whose golden coils circled the base of Aventine; not a breath -of wind filled the sails of the deserted fishing boats, which -swung lazily at their moorings. Over the distant Campagna -hung a hot, quivering mist and in the vineyards climbing the -Janiculan Mount not a leaf stirred upon its slender stem. -The ramparts of Castel San Angelo dreamed deserted in the -glow of the westering sun, and beyond the horizon of ancient -Portus, torpid, waveless and suffused in a flood of dazzling -brightness, the Tyrrhene Sea stretched toward the cloudless -horizon which closed the sun-bright view.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How long the Grand Chamberlain had thus abstractedly -gazed out upon the seven-hilled city gradually sinking into the -repose of evening, he was scarcely conscious, when a slight -knock, which seemed to come from the wall, caused him to -start. After a brief interval it was repeated. Benilo drew the -curtains closer, gave another glance at the sand-clock, nodded -to himself, then, approaching the opposite wall, decorated -with scenes from the Metamorphoses of Ovid, touched a hidden -spring. Noiselessly a panel receded and, from the chasm thus -revealed, something like a shadow passed swiftly into the -cabinet, the panel closing noiselessly behind it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo had reseated himself at the table, and beckoned his -strange visitor to a chair, which he declined. He was tall and -lean and wore the gray habit of the Penitent friars, the cowl -drawn over his face, concealing his features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For some minutes neither the Grand Chamberlain nor his -visitor spoke. At last Benilo broke the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are the bearer of a message?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me the worst! Bad news is like decaying fruit. It -becomes the more rotten with the keeping."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The worst may be told quickly enough," said the monk -with a voice which caused the Chamberlain to start.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Saxon dynasty is resting on two eyes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On two eyes," he repeated, straining his gaze towards the -monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They will soon be closed for ever!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Chamberlain started from his seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fever does not temporize."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis the nature of the raven to croak. Let thine -improvising damn thyself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fate and the grave are relentless. I am the messenger -of both!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"King Otto dying?" the Chamberlain muttered to himself. -"Away from Rome,—the Fata Morgana of his dreams?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A gesture of the monk interrupted the speaker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When a knight makes a vow to a lady, he does not thereby -become her betrothed. She oftener marries another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet the Saint may work a miracle. The Holy Father is -praying so earnestly for his deliverance, that Saint Michael -may fear for his prestige, did he not succour him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your heart is tenderer than I had guessed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And joined by the prayers of such as you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk raised his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay,—I am not holy enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought they were all saints at San Zeno."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is for Rome to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief pause during which Benilo gazed into -space. The monk heard him mutter the word "Dying—dying" -as if therein lay condensed the essence of all his -life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reseating himself the Chamberlain seemed at last to remember -the presence of his visitor, who scrutinized him stealthily -from under his cowl. Pointing to a parchment on the table -before him, he said dismissing the subject:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are reported as one in whom I may place full trust, -in whom I may implicitly confide. I hate the black cassocks. -A monk and misfortune are seldom apart. You see I dissemble -not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Grand Chamberlain's visitor nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A viper's friend must needs be a viper,—like to like!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis not the devil's policy to show the cloven hoof."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet an eavesdropper is best equipped for a prophet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the Chamberlain started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Straining his gaze towards the monk, who stood immobile -as a phantom, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is reported that you are about to render a great service -to Rome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A country without a king is bad! But to carry the matter -just a trifle farther,—to dream of Christendom without a -Pope—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would not dare!" exclaimed Benilo with real or -feigned surprise, "you would not dare! In the presence of -the whole Christian world? Rome can do nothing without -the Sun,—nothing without the Pope. Take away his -benediction: 'Urbi et Orbi'—What would prosper?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a poet and a Roman. I am a monk and a native -of Aragon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis but the old question: Cui bono? How many pontiffs -have, within the memory of man, defiled the chair of Saint -Peter? Who are your reformers? Libertines and gossipers in -the taverns of the Suburra, among fried fish, painted women, -and garlic; in prosperity proud, in adversity cowards, but -infamous ever! The fifth Gregory alone soars so high above -the earth, he sees not the vermin, the mire beneath."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps they wished to let the mire accumulate, to furnish -work for the iron broom of your tramontane saint! Are not -his shoulders bent in holy contemplation, like the moon in the -first quarter? Is he not shocked at the sight of misery and of -dishevelled despair? His sensitive nerves would see them with -the hair dressed and bound like that of an antique statue."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay! And the feudal barons stick in his palate like the hook -in the mouth of the dog fish."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We want no more martyrs! The light of the glow-worm -continues to shine after the death of the insect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a conclave, that disposed of the usurper, John XVI."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay! And the bravo, when he discovered his error, paid for -three candles for the pontiff's soul, and the monk who officiated -at the last rites praised the departed so loudly, that the corpse -sat up and laughed. And now he is immortal and possesses the -secret of eternal life," the monk concluded with downcast -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet there is one I fear,—one who seems to enlist a special -providence in his cause."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gerbert of Cluny—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The monk of Aurillac!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They say that he is leagued with the devil; that in his -closet he has a brazen head, which answers all questions, -and through which the devil has assured him that he shall not -die, till he has said mass in Jerusalem."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is competent to convert a brimstone lake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet a true soldier seeks for weak spots in the armour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am answered. But the time and the place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the Ghetto at sunset."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the reward?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The halo of a Saint."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of your conscience's peace?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May not a man and his conscience, like ill-mated consorts, -be on something less than speaking terms?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They kill by the decalogue at San Zeno."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exitus acta probat!" returned the monk solemnly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo raised his hand warningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let him disappear quietly—ecclesiastically."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is gained by caution when one stands on an earthquake?" -asked the monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You deem not, then, that Heaven might take so strong an -interest in Gerbert's affairs, as to send some of the blessed to -his deliverance?" queried Benilo suavely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Chamberlain's visitor betrayed impatience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Heaven troubled itself much about what is done on earth, -the world's business would be well-nigh bankrupt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay! And even the just may fall by his own justice!" -nodded Benilo. "He should have made his indulgences dearer, -and harder to win. Why takes he not the lesson from women?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief pause, during which Benilo had arisen -and paced up and down the chamber. His visitor remained -immobile, though his eyes followed Benilo's every step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last the Grand Chamberlain paused directly before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How fares his Eminence of Orvieto? He was ailing at -last reports," he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He died on his way to Rome, of a disease, sudden as the -plague. He loved honey,—they will accuse the bees."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a nod of satisfaction Benilo continued his perambulation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me better news of our dearly beloved friend, Monsignor -Agnello, Archbishop of Cosenza, Clerk of the Chamber -and Vice-Legate of Viterbo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was found dead in his bed, after eating a most hearty -supper," the monk spoke dolefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alas, poor man! That was sudden. But such holy men -are always ready for their call," replied the Grand Chamberlain -with downcast eyes. "And what part has his Holiness -assigned me in his relics?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some flax of his hair shirt, to coil a rope therewith," -replied the monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A princely benefaction! But your commission for the -Father of Christendom? For indeed I fear the vast treasures -he has heaped up, will hang like a leaden mountain on his -ascending soul."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Holy Father himself has summoned me to Rome!" The -words seemed to sound from nowhere. Yet they hovered -on the air like the knell of Fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Grand-Chamberlain paused, stared and shuddered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And who knows," continued the monk after a pause, -"but that by some divine dispensation all the refractory -cardinals of the Sacred College may contract some incurable -disease? Have you secured the names,—just to ascertain if -their households are well ordered?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The name of every cardinal and bishop in Rome at the -present hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give it to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hand white as that of a corpse came from the monk's -ample parting sleeves in which Benilo placed a scroll, which he -had taken from the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk unrolled it. After glancing down the list of names, -he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Cardinal of Gregorio."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Chamberlain betokened his understanding with a nod.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He claims kinship with the stars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Cardinal of San Pietro in Montorio."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An evil smile curved Benilo's thin, white lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An impostor, proved, confessed,—his conscience pawned -to a saint—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Cardinal of San Onofrio,—he, who held you over the -baptismal fount," said the monk with a quick glance at the -Chamberlain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had no hand in my own christening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Cardinal of San Silvestro."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He vowed he would join the barefoot friars, if he -recovered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He would have made a stalwart mendicant. All the women -would have confessed to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is impossible to escape immortality," sighed Benilo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Obedience is holiness," replied the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After carefully reviewing the not inconsiderable list of names, -and placing a cross against some of them, the monk returned -the scroll to its owner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the Chamberlain spoke again, his voice trembled -strangely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of the Golden Chalice?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Offerimus tibi Domine, Calicem Salutaris," the monk -quoted from the mass. "What differentiates Sacramental -Wine from Malvasia?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Chamberlain pondered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps a degree or two of headiness?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it not rather a degree or two of holiness?" replied the -monk with a strange gleam in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Season claims its mercies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can one quench a furnace with a parable?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Holy Host may work a miracle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the concern of angels to see their sentences enforced."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sic itur ad astra," said the Chamberlain devoutly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And like an echo it came from his visitor's lips:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sic itur ad astra!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We understand each other," Benilo spoke after a pause, -arising from his chair. "But remember," he added with a -look, which seemed to pierce his interlocutor through and -through. "What thou dost, monk, thou dost. If thy hand -fail, I know thee not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stepping to the panel, Benilo was about to touch the secret -spring, when a thought arrested his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou hast seen my face," he turned to the monk. "It is -but meet, that I see thine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without a word the monk removed his cowl. As he did so, -Benilo stood rooted to the spot, as if a ghost had arisen from -the stone floor before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madman!" he gasped. "You dare to show yourself in Rome?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange light gleamed in the monk's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came in quest of the End of Time. Do you doubt the -sincerity of my intent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment they faced each other in silence, then the -monk turned and vanished without another word through the -panel which closed noiselessly behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Benilo found himself once more alone, all the -elasticity of temper and mind seemed to have deserted him. All -the colour had faded from his face, all the light seemed to -have gone from his eyes. Thus he remained for a space, -neither heeding his surroundings, nor the flight of time. At -last he arose and, traversing the cabinet, made for a remote -door and passed out. Whatever were his thoughts, no -outward sign betrayed them, as with the suave and impenetrable -mien of the born courtier, he entered the vast hall of audience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A motley crowd of courtiers, officers, monks and foreign -envoys, whose variegated costumes formed a dazzling kaleidoscope -almost bewildering to the unaccustomed eye, met the -Chamberlain's gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The greater number of those present were recruited from -the ranks of the Roman nobility, men whose spare, elegant -figures formed a striking contrast to the huge giants of the -German imperial guard. The mongrel and craven descendants -of African, Syrian and Slavonian slaves, a strange jumble of -races and types, with all the visible signs of their heterogeneous -origin, stared with insolent wonder at the fair-haired -sons of the North, who took their orders from no man, save the -grandson of the mighty emperor Otto the Great, the vanquisher -of the Magyars on the tremendous field of the Lech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange medley of palace officials, appointed after the -ruling code of the Eastern Empire, chamberlains, pages and -grooms, masters of the outer court, masters of the inner -court, masters of the robe, masters of the horse, seneschals, -high stewards and eunuchs, in their sweeping citron and -orange coloured gowns, lent a glowing enchantment to the -scene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No glaring lights marred the pervading softness of the -atmosphere; all objects animate and inanimate seemed in -complete harmony with each other. The entrance to the -great hall of audience was flanked with two great pillars of -Numidian marble, toned by time to hues of richest orange. -The hall itself was surrounded by a colonnade of the Corinthian -order, whereon had been lavished exquisite carvings; in niches -behind the columns stood statues in basalt, thrice the size of -life. Enormous pillars of rose-coloured marble supported the -roof, decorated in the fantastic Byzantine style; the floor, -composed of serpentine, porphyry and Numidian marble, was a -superb work of art. In the centre a fountain threw up sprays -of perfumed water, its basin bordered with glistening shells -from India and the Archipelago.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Passing slowly down the hall, Benilo paused here and there -to exchange greetings with some individual among the -numerous groups, who were conversing in hushed whispers -on the event at this hour closest to their heart, the illness of -King Otto III, in the cloisters of Monte Gargano in Apulia -whither he had journeyed on a pilgrimage to the grottoes of -the Archangel. Conflicting rumours were rife as to the course -of the illness, and each seemed fearful of venturing a surmise, -which might precipitate a crisis, fraught with direst -consequences. The times and the Roman temper were uncertain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The countenance of Archbishop Heribert of Cologne, Chancellor -of the Empire, reflected grave apprehension, which was -amply shared by his companions, Archbishop Willigis of Mentz, -and Luitprand, Archbishop of Cremona, the Patriarch of -Christendom, whose snow-white hair formed a striking -contrast to the dark and bronzed countenance of Count Benedict -of Palestrina, and Pandulph of Capua, Lord of Spoleto and -Beneventum, the lay-members of the group. The conversation, -though held in whispered tones and inaudible to those moving -on the edge of their circle, was yet animated and it would seem, -that hope had but a small share in the surmises they ventured on -what the days to come held in store for the Saxon dynasty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without paying further heed to the motley throng, which -surged up and down the hall of audience, seemingly indifferent -to the whispered comments upon himself as a mere man of -pleasure, Benilo seated himself upon a couch at the western -extremity of the hall. With the elaborate deliberation of a -man who disdains being hurried by anything whatsoever, he -took a piece of vellum from his doublet, on which from time -to time he traced a few words. Assuming a reclining position, -he appeared absorbed in deep study, seemingly unheedful of his -surroundings. Yet a close observer might have remarked that -the Chamberlain's gaze roamed unsteadily from one group to -another, until some chance passer-by deflected its course and -Benilo applied himself to his ostentatious task more studiously -than before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What does the courtier in the parrot-frock?" Duke -Bernhardt of Saxony, stout, burly, asthmatic, addressed a tall, -sallow individual, in a rose-coloured frock, who strutted by his -side with the air of an inflated peacock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John of Calabria gave a sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alas! He writes poetry and swears by the ancient Gods!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the ancient Gods!" puffed the duke, "a commendable -habit! As for his poetry,—the bees sometimes deposit their -honey in the mouth of a dead beast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet the Philistines solved not Samson's riddle," sighed -the Greek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay! And the devil never ceases to cut wood for him, who -wishes to keep the kettle boiling," spouted the duke with an -irate look at his companion as they lost themselves among the -throngs. Suddenly a marked hush, the abrupt cessation of the -former all-pervading hum, caused Benilo to glance toward the -entrance of the audience hall. As he did so, the vellum rolled -from his nerveless hand upon the marble floor.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-pageant-in-the-navona"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE PAGEANT IN THE NAVONA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he man, who had entered the -hall of audience with the air of -one to whom every nook and -corner was familiar, looked what -he was, a war-worn veteran, -bronzed and hardened by the -effect of many campaigns in -many climes. Yet his robust -frame and his physique betrayed -but slight evidence of those -fatigues and hardships which had been the habits of his life. -Only a tinge of gray through the close-cropped hair, and now -and then the listless look of one who has grown weary with -campaigning, gave token that the prime had passed. In -repose his look was stern and pensive, softening at moments -into an expression of intense melancholy and gloom. A long -black mantle, revealing traces of prolonged and hasty travel, -covered his tall and stately form. Beneath it gleamed a dark -suit of armour with the dull sheen of dust covered steel. His -helmet, fashioned after a dragon with scales, wings, and fins of -wrought brass, resembled the headgear of the fabled Vikings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This personage was Margrave Eckhardt of Meissen, -commander-in-chief of the German hosts, Great Warden of the -Eastern March, and chief adviser of the imperial youth, who -had been entrusted to his care by his mother, the glorious -Empress Theophano, the deeply lamented consort of Emperor -Otto II of Saracenic renown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door through which he entered revealed a company of -the imperial body-guard, stationed without, in gilt-mail tunics, -armlets and greaves, their weapon the formidable mace, -surmounted by a sickle-shaped halberd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The deep hush, which had fallen upon the assembly on -Eckhardt's entrance into the hall, had its significance. If the -Romans were inclined to look with favour upon the youthful -son of the Greek princess, in whose veins flowed the warm -blood of the South, and whose sunny disposition boded little -danger to their jealously guarded liberties, their sentiments -toward the Saxon general had little in common with their -evanescent enthusiasm over the "Wonder-child of the World." But -if the Romans loved Eckhardt little, Eckhardt loved the -Romans less, and he made no effort to conceal his contempt for -the mongrel rabble, who, unable to govern themselves, chafed -at every form of government and restraint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps in the countenance of none of those assembled in -the hall of audience was there reflected such intensity of -surprise on beholding the great leader as there was in the face of -the Grand Chamberlain, the olive tints of whose cheeks had -faded to ashen hues. His trembling hands gripped the carved -back of the nearest chair, while from behind the powerful -frame of the Patricius Ziazo he gazed upon the countenance -of the Margrave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The latter had approached the group of ecclesiastics, who -formed the nucleus round the venerable Archbishop of Cremona.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What tidings from the king?" queried the patriarch -of Christendom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt knelt and kissed Luitprand's proffered hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Saint has worked a miracle. Within a fortnight -Rome will once more greet the King of the Germans."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sighs of relief and mutterings of gladness drowned the reply -of the archbishop. He was seen to raise his hands in silent -prayer, and the deep hush returned anew. Other groups -pushed eagerly forward to learn the import of the tidings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The voice of Eckhardt now sounded curt and distinct, as he -addressed Archbishop Heribert of Cologne, Chancellor of the -Holy Roman Empire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the God to whom you pray or your patron-saint, has -endowed you with the divine gift of persuasion,—use it now -to prompt your king to leave this accursed land and to return -beyond the Alps. Roman wiles and Roman fever had well-nigh -claimed another victim. My resignation lies in the hands -of the King. My mission here is ended. I place your sovereign -in your hands. Keep him safe. I return to the Eastern -March."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Exclamations of surprise, chiefly from the German element, -the Romans listening in sullen silence, rose round the -commander, like a sullen squall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt waved them back with uplifted arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The king requires my services no longer. He refuses to -listen to my counsel! He despises his own country. His sun -rises and sets in Rome. I no longer have his ear. His -counsellors are Romans! The war is ended. My sword has grown -rusty. Let another bear the burden!—I return to the Eastern -March!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During Eckhardt's speech, whose curtness barely cloaked -the grief of the commander over a step, which he deemed -irrevocable, the pallor in the features of the Grand Chamberlain -had deepened and a strange light shone in his eyes, as, -remote from the general's scrutiny, he watched and listened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The German contingent, however, was not to be so easily -reconciled to Eckhardt's declaration. Bernhardt, the Saxon -duke, Duke Burkhardt of Suabia, Count Tassilo of Bavaria -and Count Ludeger of the Palatinate united their protests -against a step so fatal in its remotest consequences, with the -result that the Margrave turned abruptly upon his heels, -strode from the hall of audience, and, passing through the -rank and file of the imperial guard, found himself on the crest -of Mount Aventine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evening was falling. A solemn hush held enthralled the -pulses of the universe. A dazzling glow of gold swept the -western heavens, and the chimes of the Angelus rang out from -untold cloisters and convents. To southward, the towering -summits of Soracté glowed in sunset gold. The dazzling -sheen reflected from the marble city on the Palatine proved -almost too blinding for Eckhardt's gaze, and with quick, -determined step, he began his descent towards the city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the base of the hill his progress suffered a sudden check.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A procession, weird, strange and terrible, hymning dirge-like -the words of some solemn chant, with the eternal refrain -"Miserere! Miserere!" wound round the shores of the Tiber. -Four files of masked, black spectres, their heads engulfed in -black hoods, wooden crucifixes dangling from their necks, -carrying torches of resin, from which escaped floods of -reddish light, at times obscured by thick black smoke, marched -solemnly behind a monk, whose features could but vaguely -be discerned in the tawny glare of the funereal light. -No phantom procession at midnight could have inspired the -popular mind with a terror so great as did this brotherhood of -Death, more terrifying than the later monks and ascetics of -Zurbaran, who so paraded the frightfulness of nocturnal -visions in the pure, unobscured light of the sun. In -numbers there were approximately four hundred. Their superior, -a tall, gaunt and terrible monk, escorted by his acolytes, -held aloft a large black crucifix. A fanatic of the iron -type, whose austerity had won him a wide ascendency, the -monk Cyprianus, his cowl drawn deeply over his face, strode -before the brotherhood. The dense smoke of their torches, -hanging motionless in the still air of high noon, soon obscured -the monks from view, even before the last echoes of their -sombre chant had died away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without a fixed purpose in his mind, save that of observing -the temper of the populace, Eckhardt permitted himself to be -swept along with the crowds. Idlers mostly and inquisitive -gapers, they constituted the characteristic Roman mob, always -swarming wherever there was anything to be seen, however -trifling the cause and insignificant the attraction. They were -those who, not choosing to work, lived by brawls and sedition, -the descendants of that uproarious mob, which in the latter -days of the empire filled the upper rows in theatre and circus, -the descendants of the rabble, whose suffrage no Cæsar was -too proud to court in the struggle against the free and -freedom-loving remnants of the aristocracy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there were foreign elements which lent life and contrast -to the picture, elements which in equal number and profusion -no other city of the time, save Constantinople, could offer to -the bewildered gaze of the spectator.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moors from the Western Caliphate of Cordova, Saracens -from the Sicilian conquest, mingled with white-robed -Bedouins from the desert; Greeks from the Morea, Byzantines, -Epirotes, Albanians, Jews, Danes, Poles, Slavs and Magyars, -Lombards, Burgundians and Franks, Sicilians, Neapolitans -and Venetians, heightened by the contrast of speech, manner -and garb the dazzling kaleidoscopic effect of the scene, while -the powerful Northern veterans of the German king thrust -their way with brutal contempt through the dregs of Romulus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After having extricated himself from the motley throngs, -Eckhardt, continuing his course to southward and following -the Leonine wall, soon found himself in the barren solitudes of -Trastevere. Here he slackened his pace, and, entering a -cypress avenue, seated himself on a marble bench, a relic of -antiquity, offering at once shade and repose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here he fell into meditation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Three years had elapsed since the death of a young and beloved -wife, who had gone from him after a brief but mysterious -illness, baffling the skill of the physicians. In the ensuing solitude -he had acquired grave habits of reflection. This day he was in -a more thoughtful mood than common. This day more than -ever, he felt the void which nothing on earth could fill. What -availed his toils, his love of country, his endurance of hardships? -What was he the better now, in that he had marched and -watched and bled and twice conquered Rome for the empire? -What was this ambition, leading him up the steepest paths, -by the brinks of fatal precipices? He scarcely knew now, -it was so long ago. Had Ginevra lived, he would indeed have -prized honour and renown and a name, that was on all men's -lips. And Eckhardt fell to thinking of the bright days, when -the very skies seemed fairer for her presence. Time, who heals -all sorrows, had not alleviated his grief. At his urgent request -he had been relieved of his Roman command. The very name -of the city was odious to him since her death. Appointed to -the office of Great Warden of the East and entrusted with the -defence of the Eastern border lands against the ever-recurring -invasions of Bulgarians and Magyars, the formidable name of -the conqueror of Rome had in time faded to a mere memory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not so in the camp. Men said he bore a charmed existence, -and indeed his counsels showed the forethought and caution -of the skilled leader, while his personal conduct was remarkable -for a reckless disregard of danger. It was observed, though, -that a deep and abiding melancholy had taken possession of -the once free and easy commander. Only under the pressure -of imminent danger did he seem to brighten into his former -self. At other times he was silent, preoccupied. But the -Germans loved their leader. They discussed him by their -watch-fires; they marvelled how one so ready on the field -was so sparing with the wine cup, how the general who could -stop to fill his helmet from the running stream under a storm -of arrows and javelins and drink composedly with a jest and a -smile could be so backward at the revels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the year 996, Crescentius, the Senator of Rome raised the -standards of revolt, expelled Gregory the Fifth and nominated -a rival pontiff in the infamous John the Sixteenth. Otto, then -a mere youth of sixteen summers, had summoned his hosts to -the rescue of his friend, the rightful pontiff. Reluctantly, and -only moved by the tears of the Empress Theophano, who -placed the child king in his care and charge, Eckhardt had -resumed the command of the invading army. Twice had he -put down the rebellion of the Romans, reducing Crescentius -to the state of a vassal, and meting out terrible punishment -to the hapless usurper of the tiara. After recrossing the Alps, -he had once more turned his attention to the bleak, sombre -forests of the North, when the imperial youth was seized with -an unconquerable desire to make Rome the capital of the -empire. Neither prayers nor persuasions, neither the threats -of the Saxon dukes nor the protests of the electors could shake -Otto's indomitable will. Eckhardt was again recalled from the -wilds of Poland to lead the German host across the Alps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile increasing rumours of the impending End of Time -began to upheave and disturb the minds. A mystical trend of -thought pervaded the world, and as the Millennium drew -nearer and nearer pilgrims of all ages and all stages began to -journey Rome-ward, to obtain forgiveness for their sins, and -to die within the pale of the Church. At first he resisted the -strange malady of the age, which slowly but irresistibly -attacked every order of society. But its morbid influences, -seconded by the memory of his past happiness, revived during -his last journey to Rome, at last threw Eckhardt headlong into -the dark waves of monasticism.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the present, to his mind, utterly purposeless -expedition, it had seemed to Eckhardt that there was no other -salvation for the loneliness in his heart, save that which -beamed from the dismal gloom of the cloister. At other times -a mighty terror of the great lonesomeness of monastic life -seized him. The pulses of life began to throb strangely, surging -as a great wave to his heart and threatening to precipitate him -anew into the shifting scenes of the world. Yet neither mood -endured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ginevra's image had engraved itself upon his heart in lines -deep as those which the sculptors trace on ivory with tools -reddened with fire. Vainly had he endeavoured to cloud its -memory by occupying his mind with matters of state, for the -love he felt for her, dead in her grave, inspired him with secret -terror. Blindly he was groping through the labyrinth for a -clue—It is hard to say: "Thy will be done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Passing over the sharp, sudden stroke, so numbing to his -senses at the time, that a long interval had to elapse, ere he -woke to its full agony; passing over the subsequent days of -yearning, the nights of vain regret, the desolation which had -laid waste his life,—Eckhardt pondered over the future. -There was something ever wanting even to complete the dull -torpor of that resignation, which philosophy inculcates and -common sense enjoins. In vain he looked about for something -on which to lean, for something which would lighten his -existence. The future was cold and gray, and with spectral -fingers the memories of the past seemed to point down the dull -and cheerless way. He had lost himself in the labyrinth of life, -since her guiding hand had left him, and now his soul was -racked by conflicting emotions; the desire for the peace of a -recluse, and the longing for such a life of action, as should -temporarily drown the voices of anguish in his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he arose Rome was bathed in the crimson after glow -of departing day. The Tiber presented an aspect of peculiar -tranquillity. Hundreds of boats with many-coloured sails and -fantastically decorated prows stretched along the banks. -Barges decorated with streamers and flags were drawn up -along the quays and wharfs. The massive gray ramparts of -Castel San Angelo glowed in the rich colours of sunset, and high -in the azure hung motionless the great standard, with the marble -horses and the flaming torch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Retracing his steps, Eckhardt soon found himself in the -heart of Rome. An almost endless stream of people, recruiting -themselves from all clans and classes, flowed steadily through -the ancient Via Sacra. Equally dense crowds enlivened the -Appian Way and the adjoining thoroughfares, leading to the -Forum. In the Navona, then enjoying the distinction of the -fashionable promenade of the Roman nobility, the throngs -were densest and a vast array of vehicles from the two-wheeled -chariot to the Byzantine lectica thronged the aristocratic -thoroughfare. Seemingly interminable processions divided -the multitudes, and the sombre and funereal chants of pilgrims -and penitents resounded on every side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pressing onward step for step, Eckhardt reached the arch of -Titus; thence, leaving the fountain of Meta Sudans, and the -vast ruins of the Flavian Amphitheatre to the right, he turned -into the street leading to the Caelimontana Gate, known at this -date by the name of Via di San Giovanni in Laterano. Here -the human congestion was somewhat relieved. Some patrician -chariots dashed up and down the broad causeway; graceful -riders galloped along the gravelled road, while a motley crowd -of pedestrians loitered leisurely along the sidewalks. Here a -group of young nobles thronged round the chariot of some -woman of rank; there, a grave, morose-looking scribe, an -advocate or notary in the cloister-like habit of his profession, -pushed his way through the crowd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While slowly and aimlessly Eckhardt pursued his way -through the shifting crowds, a sudden shout arose in the -Navona. After a brief interval it was repeated, and soon a -strange procession came into sight, which, as the German -leader perceived, had caused the acclamation on the part of -the people. In order to avoid the unwelcome stare of the -Roman rabble, Eckhardt lowered his vizor, choosing his point -of observation upon some crumbled fragment of antiquity, -whence he might not only view the approaching pageant, but -at the same time survey his surroundings. On one side were -the thronged and thickly built piles of the ancient city. On the -opposite towered the Janiculan hill with its solitary palaces and -immense gardens. The westering sun illumined the distant -magnificence of the Vatican and suffered the gaze to expand -even to the remote swell of the Apennines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The procession, which slowly wound its way towards the -point where Eckhardt had taken his station, consisted of some -twelve chariots, drawn by snow-white steeds, which chafed -at the bit, reared on their haunches, and otherwise betrayed -their reluctance to obey the hands which gripped the rein—the -hands of giant Africans in gaudy, fantastic livery. -The inmates of these chariots consisted of groups of young -women in the flower of beauty and youth, whose scant airy -garments gave them the appearance of wood-nymphs, playing -on quaintly shaped lyres. While renewed shouts of applause -greeted the procession of the New Vestals, as they styled -themselves in defiance of the trade they plied, and the gaze of the -thousands was riveted upon them,—a new commotion arose -in the Navona. A shout of terror went up, the crowds swayed -backward, spread out and then were seen to scatter on both -sides, revealing a chariot, harnessed to a couple of fiery Berber -steeds, which, having taken fright, refused to obey the driver's -grip and dashed down the populous thoroughfare. With -every moment the speed of the frightened animals increased, -and no hand was stretched forth from all those thousands to -check their mad career. The driver, a Nubian in fantastic -livery, had in the frantic effort to stop their onward rush, been -thrown from his seat, striking his head against a curb-stone, -where he lay dazed. Here some were fleeing, others stood -gaping on the steps of houses. Still others, with a cry of -warning followed in the wake of the fleeting steeds. Adding to the -dismay of the lonely occupant of the chariot, a woman, -magnificently arrayed in a transparent garb of black gossamer-web, -embroidered with silver stars, the reins were dragging on the -ground. Certain death seemed to stare her in the face. Though -apprehensive of immediate destruction she disdained to appeal -for assistance, courting death rather than owe her life to -the despised mongrel-rabble of Rome. Despite the terrific -speed of the animals she managed to retain over her face the -veil of black gauze, which completely enshrouded her, though -it revealed rather than concealed the magnificent lines of her -body. Eckhardt fixed his straining gaze upon the chariot, as it -approached, but the sun, whose flaming disk just then touched -the horizon, blinded him to a degree which made it impossible -for him to discern the features of a face supremely fair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment it seemed as if the frightened steeds were -about to dash into an adjoining thoroughfare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Breathless and spellbound the thousands stared, yet there -was none to risk his life in the hazardous effort of stopping the -blind onrush of the maddened steeds. Suddenly they changed -their course towards the point where, hemmed in by the densely -congested throngs, Eckhardt stood. Snatching the cloak from -his shoulders, the Margrave dashed through the living wall of -humanity and leaped fearlessly in the very path of the snorting, -onrushing steeds. With a dexterous movement he flung the -dark cover over their heads, escaping instantaneous death only -by leaping quickly to one side. Then dashing at the bits he -succeeded, alone and unaided, in stopping the terrified animals, -though dragged along for a considerable space. A great shout -of applause went up from the throats of those who had not -moved a hand to prevent the impending disaster. Unmindful -of this popular outburst, Eckhardt held the frightened steeds, -which trembled in every muscle and gave forth ominous snorts, -until the driver staggered along. Half dazed from his -fall and bleeding profusely from a gash in the forehead, the -Nubian, almost frightened out of his wits, seized the lines and -resumed his seat. The steeds, knowing the accustomed hand, -gradually quieted down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the moment, when Eckhardt turned, to gain a glimpse of -the occupant of the chariot, a shriek close by caused him to turn -his head. The procession of the New Vestals had come to a -sudden stand-still, owing to the blocking of the thoroughfare, -through which the runaway steeds had dashed, the clearing -behind them having been quickly filled up with a human wall. -During this brief pause some individual, the heraldry of whose -armour denoted him a Roman baron, had pounced upon one of -the chariots and seized one of its scantily clad occupants. -The girl had uttered a shriek of dismay and was struggling to -free herself from the ruffian's clutches, while her companions -vainly remonstrated with her assailant. To hear the shriek, -to turn, to recognize the cause, and to pounce upon the Roman, -were acts almost of the same moment to Eckhardt. Clutching -the girl's assailant by the throat, without knowing in whose -defence he was entering the contest, he thundered in accents -of such unmistakable authority, as to give him little doubt of -the alternative: "Let her go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a terrible oath, Gian Vitelozzo released his victim, -who quickly remounted her chariot, and turned upon his assailant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who in the name of the foul fiend are you, to interfere -with my pleasure?" he roared, almost beside himself with rage -as he perceived his prey escaping his grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through his closed visor, Eckhardt regarded the noblemen -with a contempt which the latter instinctively felt, for he paled -even ere his antagonist spoke. Then approaching the baron, -Eckhardt whispered one word into his ear. Vitelozzo's cheeks -turned to leaden hues and, trembling like a whipped cur, he -slunk away. The crowds, upon witnessing the noble's dismay, -broke into loud cheers, some even went so far as to kiss the hem -of Eckhardt's mantle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shaking himself free of the despised rabble whose numbers -had been a hundred times sufficient to snatch his prey from -Vitelozzo and his entire clan, Eckhardt continued upon his -way, wondering whom he had saved from certain death, and -whom, as he thought, from dishonour. The procession of -the New Vestals had disappeared in the haze of the distance. -Of the chariot and its mysterious inmate not a trace was to be -seen. Without heeding the comments upon his bravery, -unconscious that two eyes had followed his every step, since he -left the imperial palace, Eckhardt slowly proceeded upon his -way, until he found himself at the base of the Palatine.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="on-the-palatine"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ON THE PALATINE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he moon was rising over the -distant Alban hills, when -Eckhardt began his ascent. Now and -then, he paused on a spot, which -offered a particularly striking -view of the city, reposing in the -fading light of day. No sound -broke the solemn stillness, save -the tolling of convent-bells on -remote Aventine, or the sombre -chant of pilgrims before some secluded shrine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like the ghost of her former self, Rome seemed to stretch -interminably into the ever deepening purple haze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colossal watch-towers, four-cornered, massive, with twin-like -steeples and crenelated ramparts, dominated the view on -all sides. Their shadows fell afar from one to another. Here -and there, conspicuous among the houses, loomed up the -wondrous structures of old Rome, sometimes singly, sometimes -in thickly set groups. Beyond the walls the aqueducts pursued -their long and sinuous path-ways through the Campagna. -The distant Alban hills began to shroud their undulating -summits in the slowly rising mists of evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a stupendous desolation time had wrought!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he slowly proceeded up the hill, Eckhardt beheld the -Palatine's enormous structures crumbled to ruin. The high-spanned -vaulted arches and partitions still rested on their firm -foundations of Tophus stone, their ruined roofs supported by -massive pillars, broken, pierced and creviced. Resplendent in -the last glow of departing day towered high the imperial -palaces of Augustus, Tiberius and Domitian. The Septizonium -of Alexander Severus, still well preserved in its seven stories, -had been converted into a feudal stronghold by Alberic, chief -of the Optimates, while Caligula's great piles of stone rose high -and dominating in the evening air. The Jovian temples were -still standing close to the famous tomb of Romulus, but the old -triumphal course was obstructed with filth. In crescent shape -here and there a portico was visible, shadeless and long -deprived of roofing. High towered the Coliseum's stately ruins; -Circus and Stadium were overgrown with bushes; of the baths -of Diocletian and Caracalla, once magnificent and imposing, -only ruins remained. Crumbling, weatherbeaten masonry -confronted the eye on every turn. Endless seemed the tangled -maze of crooked lanes, among which loomed a temple-gable -green with moss or a solitary column; an architrave resting -on marble columns, looked down upon the huts of poverty. -Nero's golden palace and the Basilica of Maxentius lay in -ruins; but in the ancient Forum temples were still standing, -their slender columns pointing to the skies with their ornate -Corinthian capitals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Rome of the Millennium was indeed but the phantom -of her own past. On all sides the eye was struck with -inexorable decay. Where once triumphal arches, proud, erect, -witnessed pomp and power, crumbling piles alone recorded -the memory of a glorious past. Great fragments strewed the -virgin-soil of the Via Sacra from the splendid arch of -Constantine to the Capitol. The Roman barons had turned the -old Roman buildings into castles. The Palatine and the -adjoining Coelian hill were now lorded over by the powerful -house of the Pierleoni. Crescentius, the Senator of Rome, -claimed Pompey's theatre and the Mausoleum of the Emperor -Hadrian, Castel San Angelo; in the waste fields of Campo -Marzio the Cavalli had seized the Mausoleum of Augustus; -the Aventine was claimed by the Romani and Stefaneschi; the -Stadium of Domitian by the Massimi. In the Fora of Trajan -and Nerva the Conti had ensconced themselves; the theatre -of Marcellus was held by the Caetani and the Guidi ruled in -the tomb of Metellus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was an inexpressible charm in the sadness of this -desolation which chimed strangely with Eckhardt's own life, -now but a memory of its former self.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a wonderful night. Scarce a breath of air stirred the -dying leaves. The vault of the sky was unobscured, arching -deep-blue over the higher rising moon. To southward the -beacon fires from the Tor di Vergera blazed like a red star low -down in the horizon. Wrapt in deep thought, Eckhardt followed -the narrow road, winding his way through a wilderness of -broken arches and fallen porticoes, through a region studded -with convents, cloisters and the ruins of antiquity. Gray mists -began to rise over housetops and vineyards, through which at -intervals the Tiber gleamed like a yellow serpent in the -moonlight. Near the Ripetta long spirals of dark smoke curled up -to the azure night-sky and the moon cast a glory on the colossal -statue of the Archangel Michael, where it stood on the gloomy -keep of Castel San Angelo. The rising night-wind rustled in -organ-tones among the cypress trees; the fountains murmured, -and in a silvery haze the moon hung over the slumbering city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly Eckhardt continued the ascent of the Palatine and -he had scarcely reached the summit, when out of the ruins -there rose a shadow, and he found himself face to face with -Benilo, the Grand Chamberlain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By St. Peter and St. Paul and all the saints I can -remember!" exclaimed the latter, "is it Eckhardt, the -Margrave, or his ghost? But no matter which,—no man more -welcome!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am but myself," replied Eckhardt, as he grasped the -proffered hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little did I hope to meet you here," Benilo continued, -regarding Eckhardt intently. "I thought you far away -among the heathen Poles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate the Romans so heartily, that now and then I love -to remind them of my presence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay! Like Timon of Athens, you would bequeath to them -your last fig-tree, that they may hang themselves from its -branches," Benilo replied with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should require a large orchard. Is Rome at peace?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The burghers wrangle about goats' wool, the monks -gamble for a human soul, and the devil stands by and watches -the game," replied Benilo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you surprised any strange rumours during my -absence?" questioned Eckhardt guardedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They say much or little, as you will," came the enigmatic -reply. "I have heard your name from the lips of one, who -seldom speaks, save to ill purpose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt nodded with a grim smile, while he fixed his eyes -on his companion. Slowly they lost themselves in the -wilderness of crumbling arches and porticoes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Eckhardt spoke, a strange mixture of mirth and -irony in his tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But your own presence among these ruins? Has Benilo, -the Grand Chamberlain become a recluse, dwelling among -flitter mice and jack-daws?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not sipped from the fount of the mystics," Benilo -replied. "But often at the hour of dusk I seek the solitudes of -the Palatine, which chime so strangely with my weird fancies. -Here I may roam at will and without restraint,—here I may -revel in the desolation, enlivened only now and then by the -shrill tones of a shepherd's pipe; here I may ramble -undisturbed among the ruins of antiquity, pondering over the -ancient greatness of Rome, pondering over the mighty that -have fallen.—I have just completed an Ode—all but the -final stanzas. It is to greet Otto upon his return. The -Archbishop of Cologne announced the welcome tidings of the -king's convalescence—truly, a miracle of the saint!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt had listened attentively, then he remarked drily:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let each man take his own wisdom and see whither it will -lead him. Otto is still pursuing a mocking phantom under the -ruins of crumbled empires, but to find the bleached bones of -some long-forgotten Cæsar! Truly, a worthy cause, in which -to brave the danger of Alpine snows and avalanches—and -the fever of the Maremmas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We both try to serve the King—each in his way," Benilo -replied, contritely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt extended his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a poet and a philosopher. I am a soldier and a -German.—I have wronged you in thought—forgive and forget!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo readily placed his hand in that of his companion. -After a pause Eckhardt continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My business in Rome touches neither emperor nor pope. -Once, I too, wooed the fair Siren Rome. But the Siren proved a -Vampire.—Rome is a enamel house.—Her caress is Death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis three years since last we strode these walks," -Eckhardt spoke again. "What changes time has wrought!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have the dead brought you too back to Rome?" queried -Benilo with averted gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Even so," Eckhardt replied, as he strode by Benilo's -side. "The dead! Soon I too shall exchange the garb of the -world for that of the cloister."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Chamberlain stared aghast at his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not serious?" he stammered, with well-feigned -surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The past is known to you!" he replied with a heavy sigh. -"Since she has gone from me to the dark beyond, I have -striven for peace and oblivion in every form,—in the turmoil -of battle, before the shrines of the Saints.—In vain! I have -striven to tame this wild passion for one dead and in her grave. -But this love cannot be strangled as a lion is strangled, and the -skill of the mightiest athlete avails nothing in such a struggle. -The point of the arrow has remained in the wound. Madness, -to wander for ever about a grave, to think eternally, fatefully -of one who cannot see you, cannot hear you, one who has left -earth in all the beauty and splendour of youth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pause ensued, during which neither spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They walked for some time in silence among the gigantic -ruins of the Palatine. Like an alabaster lamp the moon hung -in the luminous vault of heaven. How peacefully fair beneath -the star-sprinkled violet sky was this deserted region, bordered -afar by tall, spectral cypress-trees whose dark outlines were -clearly defined against the mellow luminance of the ether. -At last Eckhardt and his companion seated themselves on the -ruins of a shattered portico, which had once formed the -entrance to a temple of Saturnus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Each seemed to be occupied with his own thoughts, when -Eckhardt raised his head and gazed inquiringly at his -companion, who had likewise assumed a listening attitude. -Through the limpid air of the autumnal night, like faint -echoes from dream-land, there came softly vibrating harp-tones, -mingled with the clash of tinkling cymbals, borne aloft -from distant groves. Faint ringing chimes, as of silver bells, -succeeded these broken harmonies, followed by another clash -of cymbals, stormily persistent, then dying away on the -evanescent breezes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange, stifling sensation oppressed Eckhardt's heart, as -he listened to these bells. They seemed to remind him of -things which had long passed out of his life, the peaceful -village-chimes in his far-away Saxon land, the brief dream of -the happy days now for ever gone. But hark! had he not heard -these sounds before? Had they not caressed his ears on the -night, when accompanying the king from Aix-la-Chapelle -to Merséburg, they passed the fateful Hoerselberg in Thuringia?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt made the sign of the cross, but the question -rising to his lips was anticipated by Benilo, who pointed -towards a remote region of the Aventine, just as the peals of -the chiming bells, softened by distance into indistinct tremulous -harmonies, and the clarion clearness of the cymbals again -smote the stillness with their strangely luring clangour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yonder lies the palace of Theodora," Benilo remarked -indifferently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt listened with a strange sensation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He remembered the pageant he had witnessed in the Navona, -the pageant, from whose more minute contemplation he had -been drawn by the incident with Gian Vitelozzo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is the woman?" he questioned with some show of -interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Regarding that matter there is considerable speculation," -replied Benilo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you any theory of your own?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Chamberlain shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heard you ever of a remote descendant of Marozia, still -living in Italy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought they had all been strangled long ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if there were one, deem you, that the harlot-blood -which flowed in the veins of her mother and all the women of -her house would be sanctified by time, a damp convent-cell, -and a rosary?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know nothing of a surviving limb of that lightning-blasted -trunk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did not the direct line of Marozia end with John XI, -whom she succeeded in placing in the chair of St. Peter, ere -she herself was banished to a convent, where she died?" -questioned Benilo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it is reported! And this woman's name is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Theodora!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo met Eckhardt's gaze unflinchingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have visited her circle," he replied indifferently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt nodded. He understood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dexterously changing the subject Benilo continued after -a pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you had but some heart-felt passion, to relieve your -melancholy; if you could but love somebody or something," he -spoke sympathetically. "Truly, it was never destined for the -glorious career of Eckhardt to end behind the bleak walls of a -cloister."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt bowed his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Philosophy is useless. Strange ailments require strange -cures."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For some time they gazed in silence into the moonlit night. -Around them towered colossal relics of ancient grandeur, -shattered walls, naked porticoes. Wildernesses of broken -arches stretched interminably into the bluish haze, amidst -woods and wild vegetation, which had arisen as if to reassert -their ancient possessions of the deserted site.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Eckhardt spoke, hesitatingly at first, as one testing -his ground, gradually with firmer purpose, which seemed to -go straight to the heart of his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is much about Ginevra's sudden death that puzzles -me, a mystery which I have in vain endeavoured to fathom. -The facts are known to you, I can pass them over, dark as -everything seems to me at this very moment. So quickly, so -mysteriously did she pass out of my life, that I could not, would -not trust the testimony of my senses. I left the house on the -Caelian hill on that fateful night, and though I felt as if my -eyes were bursting from my head, they did not shed a single -tear. Where I went, or what I did, I could not tell. I walked -about, as one benumbed, dazed, as it sometimes happens, -when the cleaving stroke of an iron mace falls upon one's -helmet, deafening and blinding. This I remember—I passed -the bridge near the tower of Nona and, ascending the Borgo, -made for the gate of San Sebastian. The monks of Della -Regola soon appeared, walking two by two, accompanied by -a train of acolytes, chanting the Miserere, and bearing the -coffin covered with a large pall of black velvet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt paused, drawing a deep breath. Then he continued, -slowly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All this did not rouse me from the lethargy which had -benumbed my senses. Only the one thought possessed me: -Since we had been severed in life, in death at least we could be -united. We were both journeying to the same far-off land, -and the same tomb would give us repose together. I followed -the monks with a triumphant but gloomy joy, feeling myself -already transported beyond the barriers of life. Ponte Sisto -and Trastevere passed, we entered San Pancrazio."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was another pause, Benilo listening intently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The body placed in the chapel, prior to the performance of -the last rites," Eckhardt continued, "I hurried away from the -place and wandered all night round the streets like a madman, -ready to seek my own destruction. But the hand of Providence -withheld me from the crime. I cannot describe what I suffered; -the agony, the despair, that wrung my inmost heart. I could -no longer support a life that seemed blighted with the curse of -heaven, and I formed the wildest plans, the maddest resolutions -in my whirling brain. For a strange, terrible thought had -suddenly come over me. I could not believe that Ginevra was -dead. And the longer I pondered, the greater became my -anxiety and fear. Late in the night I returned to the chapel. -I knelt in the shadow of the vaulted arches, leaning against -the wall, while the monks chanted the Requiem. I heard the -'Requiescat in Pace,' I saw them leave the chapel, but I -remained alone in the darkness, for there was no lamp save the -lamp of the Virgin. At this moment a bell tolled. The sacristan -who was making the rounds through the church, preparatory -to closing, passed by me. He saw me, without recognizing -who I was, and said: 'I close the doors.' 'I shall remain,' I -answered. He regarded me fixedly, then said: 'You are bold! -I will leave the door ajar—stay, if you will!' And without -speaking another word he was out. I paid little heed to him, -though his words had strangely stirred me. What did he mean? -After a few moments my reasoning subsided, but my -determination grew with my fear. Everything being still as the -grave, I approached the coffin, cold sweat upon my brow. -Removing the pall which covered it, I drew my dagger which -was strong and sharp, intending to force open the lid, when -suddenly I felt a stinging, benumbing pain on my head, as -from the blow of a cudgel. How long I lay unconscious, I -know not. When after some days I woke from the swoon, the -monks had raised a heavy stone over Ginevra's grave, during -the night of my delirium. I left Rome, as I thought, for ever. -But strange misgivings began to haunt my sleep and my waking -hours. Why had they not permitted me to see once more the -face I had so dearly loved, ere they fastened down for ever the -lid of the coffin? 'Tis true, they contended that the ravages of -the fever to which she had succumbed had precipitated the -decomposition of her body. Still—the more I ponder over her -death, the more restless grows my soul. Thus I returned to -Rome, even against my own wish and will. I will not tarry -long. Perchance some light may beam on the mystery which -has terrified my dreams, from a source, least expected, though -so far I have in vain sought for the monk who conducted the -last rites, and whose eyes saw what was denied to mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a dead silence, which lasted for a space, until it -grew almost painful in its intensity. At last Benilo spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To return to the night of her interment. Was there no -one near you, to dispel those dread phantoms which maddened -your brain?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had suffered no one to remain. I wished to be alone with -my grief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But whence the blow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The masons had wrenched away an iron bar, in walling -up the old entrance. Had the height been greater, I would -not be here to tell the tale."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo drew a deep breath. He was ghastly pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But your purpose in Rome?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will find the monk who conducted the last rites—I will -have speech with Nilus, the hermit. If all else fails, the cloister -still remains."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me entreat you not to hasten the irrevocable step. -Neither your king nor your country can spare their illustrious -leader."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Otto has made his peace with Rome. He has no further -need of me," Eckhardt replied with bitterness. "But this I -promise. I shall do nothing, until I have had speech with the -holy hermit of Gaëta. Whatever he shall enjoin, thereby will -I abide. I shall do nothing hastily, or ill-advised."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They continued for a time in silence, each wrapt in his own -thoughts. Without one ray of light beaming on his course, -Eckhardt beheld a thousand vague and shadowy images -passing before his eyes. That subterranean love, so long -crouched at his soul's stairway, had climbed a few steps -higher, guided by some errant gleam of hope. The weight of -the impossible pressed no longer so heavily upon him, since he -had lightened his burden by the long withheld confession. -The vertigo of fatality had seized him. By a succession of -irregular and terrible events he believed himself hurried -towards the end of his goal. A mighty wave had lifted him up -and bore him onward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whither?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the distance, borne aloft on the wings of the night-wind, -came faintly the chant of pilgrims from secluded shrines -on the roadway. Eckhardt's mind was made up. He would -seek Nilus, the hermit. Perchance he would point out to him -the road to peace and set at rest the dread misgivings, which -tortured him beyond endurance. This boon obtained, what -mattered all else? The End of Time was nigh. It would solve -all mysteries which the heart yearned to know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And while Benilo seemed to muse in silence over the strange -tale which his companion had poured into his ear, the latter -weighed a resolve which he dared not even breathe, much less -confide to human ear. Truly, the task required of Nilus was -great.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Eckhardt and Benilo parted for the night. Eckhardt -went his way, pondering, and wondering what the morrow -would bring, and Benilo returned among the ruins of the -Palatine, where he remained seated for a time, staring up at -the starry night-sky, as if it contained the solution of all -that was dark and inscrutable in man's existence.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-wanton-court-of-theodora"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE WANTON COURT OF THEODORA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-a.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span> strange restlessness had seized -the Chamberlain, after his -meeting with the German -commander. The moon illumined -the desolate region with her -white beams, dividing the silent -avenues into double edged lines -of silvery white, and bluish -shadows. The nocturnal day -with its subdued tints disguised -and mantled the desolation. The mutilated columns, -the roofs, crumbled beneath the torrents and thunders -of centuries, were less conspicuous than when seen in the -clear, merciless light of the sun. The lost parts were -completed by the half tints of shadows; only here and there -a brusque beam of light marked the spot, where a whole edifice -had crumbled away. The silent genii of Night seemed to have -repaired the ancient city to some representation of fantastic -life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he hurried along the slopes of the hill, Benilo fancied at -times that he beheld vague forms, lurking in the shadows; -but they seemed to vanish the moment he approached. Low -whisperings, an undefined hum, floated through the silence. -First he attributed the noises to a fluttering in his ears, to the -sighing of the night-wind or to the flight of some snake or -lizard through the nettles. In nature all things live, even -death; all things make themselves heard, even silence. Never -before had Benilo felt such an involuntary terror. Once or -twice he precipitately changed his course, hurrying down -some narrow lane, between desolate looking rows of houses, -low and ill-favoured, whose inmates recruited themselves from -the lowest types of the mongrel population of Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the Agrippina below the bridge of Nero he paused and -gave a sigh of relief. The phantoms seemed to have vanished. -No breath of life broke the stillness. As on a second Olympus -the marble palaces of the Cæsars towered on the summit of the -Capitoline hill, glistening white in the ghostly moonlight. -Below, the Tiber sent his sluggish waves down toward Ostia, -rocking the fleet of numberless boats and barges which swung -lazily at their moorings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo found himself in a quarter of Rome which had been -abandoned for centuries. Ruins of temples and porticoes -were strewn in the waste which he traversed. Here at least -he could breathe more freely. No one was likely to surprise -his presence in these solitudes. The superstition of the age -prevented the Romans from frequenting the vale between -Mounts Aventine and Testaccio after dark, for it was believed -to be the abode of evil spirits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the Chamberlain made his way through the wilderness of -fallen columns, shattered porticoes, and tangles of myrrh and -acanthus, the faint clash of cymbals, like the echo of some -distant bacchanalia, fell upon his ear. A strange fitful melody, -rising and falling with weird thrilling cadence, was borne upon -the perfumed breezes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not advanced very far, when through an avenue of -tall spectral cypress trees he emerged upon a smooth and level -lawn, shut in by black groups of cedar, through the entwined -branches of which peeped the silver moon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Traversing a broad marble terrace, garlanded with a golden -wealth of orange trees and odorous oleanders, Benilo approached -a lofty building, surrounded at some distance by a wall of the -height of half-grown palms. A great gate stood ajar, which -appeared to be closely guarded. Leaning against one of the -massive pillars which supported it, stood an African of giant -stature, in scarlet tunic and white turban, who, turning his -gleaming eyeballs on Benilo, nodded by way of salutation. -Entering the forbidden grounds, the Chamberlain found himself -in a spacious garden which he traversed with quick, elastic -step, as one familiar with the locality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Benilo advanced under the leafy branches, swaying in -melancholy relief against the blue-green sky, the sight of -thousands of coloured lamps hanging in long festoons from -tree to tree first caused him to start and to look about. A -few moments later he was walking between quaintly clipped -laurel and yew-bushes, which bordered the great avenue -starred with semi-circular lights, where bronze and marble -statues held torches and braziers of flame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sounds of joy and merry-making fell upon his ear, causing -a frown, like a black shadow, to flit over his face, deepening -by stages into ill-repressed rage. In whichever manner the -dark prophecies concerning the Millennium may have affected -the Romans and the world at large, it was quite evident they -disturbed not the merry circle assembled in the great hall -beyond.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Benilo found himself at the entrance of a vast -circular hall. The picture which unfolded itself to his gaze was -like a fairy fantasy. Gilded doors led in every direction into -vast corridors, ending in a peri-style supported by pillars. -These magnificent oval halls admitted neither the light of day -nor the season of the year. The large central hall, at the -threshold of which Benilo stood, reviewing the spectacle -before him, had no windows. Silver candelabra, perpetually -burning behind transparent curtains of sea-green gauze -diffused a jewel-like radiance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And here, in the drowsy warmth, lounging on divans of -velvet, their feet sunk in costly Indian and Persian carpets, -drinking, gossiping, and occasionally bursting into fitful -snatches of song, revelled a company of distinguished men, -richly clad, representatives of the most exclusive Roman -society of the time. They seemed bent upon no other purpose -save to enjoy the pleasure of the immediate hour. Africans in -fantastic attire carried aloft flagons and goblets, whose -crystalline sheen reflected the crimson glow of the spicy -Cyprian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo's arrival had not been noticed. In the shadow of -the entrance he viewed the brilliant picture with its changing -tints, its flash of colour, its glint of gold, the enchanting -women, who laughingly gossipped and chatted with their -guests, freed from the least restraint in dress or manner, thus -adding the last spark to the fire of the purple Chianti. But as -he gazed round the circle, the shade of displeasure deepened -in Benilo's countenance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo, the most renowned wit in the seven-hilled city, -had just recited one of his newest and most poignant epigrams, -sparing neither emperor nor pope, and had been rewarded -by the loud applause of his not too critical audience and a -smile from the Siren, who, in the absence of the hostess, -seemed to preside over that merry circle. With her neck and -shoulders half veiled in transparent gauze, revealing rather -than concealing the soft, undulating lines of her supple body -and arms, her magnificent black hair knotted up at the back -of her head and wreathed with ivy, Roxané smiled radiantly -from the seat of honour, which she had usurped, the object -of mad desire of many a one present, of eager admiration -to all. A number of attendants moved quickly and noiselessly -about the spacious hall, decorated with palms and other -tropical plants, while among the revellers the conversation -grew more lively every moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the shadow of the great door Benilo paused and listened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is the Queen of the Groves?" Roffredo, a dissolute -youth, questioned his neighbour, who divided his attention -between the fair nymph by his side and the goblet which -trembled in his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence!" replied the personage to whom the young -noble had addressed himself, with a meaning glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roffredo and the girl by his side glanced in the direction -indicated by the speaker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Benilo," replied the Patrician. "Is he responsible for -Theodora's absence?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oliverotto uttered a coarse laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he added with a meaning glance:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will enlighten you at some other time. But is it true -that you have rescued some errant damsel from Vitelozzo's -clutches? Why do you not gladden our eyes with so chaste a -morsel?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roffredo shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who knows, whether it was the vulture's first visit to the -dove's nest?" he replied with a disgusting smile. "'Tis not -a matter of much consequence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo heard the lie and the empty boast. He hated the -prating youth for reasons of his own, but cared not to -interfere at this stage, unconscious that his presence had been -remarked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is she fair?" questioned the girl by Roffredo's side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some might call her so," replied the latter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl pouted and raised the goblet to her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reveal her name to us!" croaked Bembo, who, though -at some distance, had heard every word of the discourse. -"And I will forthwith dedicate to her five and twenty stanzas -on her virtue!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who spoke the fatal word?" laughed Roxané, who -presided over the circle. "What is amusing you so much, -you ancient wine-cask?" She then turned to the poet, whose -rather prosaic circumference well justified the epithet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old theme—women!" croaked Bembo good-humouredly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forget it!" shouted Roffredo, draining his goblet. -"Rather than listen to your tirades, they would grasp the -red hot hand of the devil."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! We live in a sorry age and it behooves us to think -of the end," Roxané sighed with a mock air of contrition, -which called forth a general outburst of mirth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are the very one to ponder over the most convenient -mode of exit into the beyond," sneered the Lord of Gravina.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have we here?" rasped Bembo. "Who dares to -speak of death in this assembly?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, we would rather postpone the option till it finds us -face to face with that villainous concoction you served us, -to make us forget your more villainous poetry," shouted -Oliverotto, hobbling across the hall and slapping the poet on -the back. "I knew not that Roman soil produced so vile -vintage!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas Lacrymae Christi," remonstrated Bembo. "Would -you have Ambrosia with every epigram on your vileness?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, it was Satan's own brew," shrieked the baron, his -voice strident as that of a cat, which has swallowed a fish -bone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Oliverotto clinked his goblet and cast amorous glances -right and left out of small watery eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bembo regarded him contemptuously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the Cross! You are touched up and painted like a -wench! Everything about you is false, even to your wit! -Beware, fair Roxané,—he is ogling you as a bullfrog does the -stars!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this stage an intermezzo interrupted the light, bantering -tone of conversation. A curtain in the background parted. A -bevy of black haired girls entered the hall, dressed in airy -gowns, which revealed every line, every motion of their bodies. -They encircled the guests in a mad whirl, inclining themselves -first to one, then to the other. They were led by one, garbed -as Diana, with the crescent moon upon her forehead, her black -hair streaming about the whiteness of her statuesque body like -dark sea-waves caressing marble cliffs. Taking advantage of -this stage of the entertainment Benilo crossed the vast hall -unnoticed and sat apart from the revellers in gloomy silence, -listening with ill-concealed annoyance to the shouts of laughter -and the clatter of irritating tongues. The characteristic -wantonness of his features had at this moment given place to a look -of weariness and suffering, a seemingly unaccustomed expression; -it was a look of longing, the craving of a passion -unsatisfied, a hope beyond his hope. Many envied him for his -fame and profligacy, others read in his face the stamp of -sullen cruelty, which vented itself wherever resistance seemed -useless; but there was none to sound his present mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo had not been at his chosen spot very long, when some -one touched him on the shoulder. Looking up, he found -himself face to face with an individual, wrapt in a long mantle, -the colour of which was a curious mixture of purple and brown. -His face was shaded by a conical hat, a quaint combination -of Byzantine helmet and Norse head-gear, being provided -with a straight, sloping brim, which made it impossible to -scrutinize his features. This personage was Hezilo, a -wandering minstrel seemingly hailing from nowhere. At least no -one had penetrated the mystery which enshrouded him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you alone insensible to the charms of these?" And -Benilo's interlocutor pointed to the whirling groups.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was thinking of one who is absent," Benilo replied, -relapsing into his former listless attitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not pluck the flowers that grow in your path, waiting -but your will and pleasure?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo clenched his hands till the nails were buried in the -flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you ever heard of an Eastern drug, which mirrors -Paradise before your senses?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hezilo shook his head. "What of it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He who becomes its victim is doomed irretrievably. -While under its baleful spell, he is happy. Deprive him of -it and the horrors of hell are upon him. No rest! No peace! -And like the fiend addicted to the drug is the thrice accursed -wretch who loves Theodora."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hezilo regarded the Chamberlain strangely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Benilo deploring the inconstancy of woman," he said -with noiseless laugh. Then, beckoning to one of the attendants, -he took from the salver thus offered to him a goblet, -which he filled with the dark crimson wine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drink and forget," he cried. "You will find it even better -than your Eastern drug."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo shook his head and pushed away the proffered wine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your advice comes too late!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment neither spoke. Benilo, busied with his own -thoughts, sat listening to the boisterous clamour of the revellers, -while the harper's gaze rested unseen upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a pause he broke the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How chanced it," he said, placing his hand affectionately -on the other's shoulder, "that Benilo, who has broken all -ten commandments and, withal, hearts untold, Benilo, who -could have at his feet every woman in Rome, became woman's -prey, her abject slave? That he is grovelling in the dust, where -he might be lord and master? That he whines and whimpers, -where he should command?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo turned fiercely upon his interlocutor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who dares say that I whine and whimper and grovel at -her feet? Fools all! On a mountain pass the trip is easier -down than up! Know you what it means to love a woman -with mad consuming passion, but to be cast aside for some -blatant ass, to catch a few crumbs of favour tossed in one's -face? Men like that rhyming zebra Bembo, who sings of love, -which he has never felt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Still you have not answered my question," said the harper -with quiet persistence. "Why are you the slave where you -should be the master? Theodora is whimsical, heartless, -cruel; still she is a woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is a devil, a heartless beautiful devil who grinds the -hearts of men beneath her feet and laughs. Sometimes she -taunts me till I could strangle her—ah! But I placed myself -in the demon's power and having myself broken the compact -which bound me to her, body and soul—from the lord I -was, I have sunk to the slave I am,—you see, I speak free -from the heart, what little she has left of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The harper nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not leave Rome for a time?" he said. "Your -absence might soften Theodora's heart. Your sins, whatever -they were, will appear less glaring in the haze of the -distance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo looked up like an infuriated tiger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has she appointed you my guardian?" he laughed harshly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have had no words with her," replied the harper. "But -one with eyes to see, cannot help but sound your ailment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Chamberlain relaxed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The drug is in the blood," he replied wearily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then win her back, if you can," said the harper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo clenched his hands while he glared up at the other. -"It is a game between the devil and despair, and the devil -has the deal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A losing game for you, should either win."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it! Yet one single word would make me master -where I am the slave."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you waver?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence!" growled Benilo. "Tempt me no more!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their discourse at this point was rudely interrupted by -the clamour of the guests, bent upon silencing Bembo's exuberance, -whose tongue, like a ribbon in the wind, fluttered incessantly. -He bore himself with the airs of some orator of -antiquity, rolling his eyes until they showed the whites beneath, -and beating the air with his short, chubby arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Bembo is to be believed there is not in all Rome one -faithful wife nor one innocent girl," roared the lord of Bracciano, -a burly noble who was balancing a dainty dancer on his knee, -while she held his faun-like head encircled with her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pah!" cried Guido da Fermo, a baron whose chief merit -consisted in infesting the roads in the Patrimony of St. Peter. -"There are some, but they are scarce, remarkably scarce!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Make your wants known at the street corners," exclaimed -Roffredo, taking the cue. "And I wager our fair Queen would -be the first to claim the prize."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the young Patrician whose face revealed traces of -grossest debauchery gazed defiantly round the hall, as if -challenging some one to take up the gauntlet, if he dared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be careful!" whispered the girl Nelida, his companion. -"Benilo is looking at you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roffredo laughed boisterously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Theodora's discarded lover? Why should I muffle my -speech to please his ear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl laughed nervously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because the tongue of a fool, when long enough, is a -rope to hang him by,—and he loves her still!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He loves her still," drawled the half-intoxicated Patrician, -turning his head toward the spot where Benilo sat listening -with flaming eyes. "The impudence!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he staggered to his feet, holding aloft the goblet with -one hand, while the other encircled the body of the dancing -girl, who tried in vain to silence him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fill your goblets," he shouted,—"fill your goblets -full—to the brim."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He glanced round the hall with insolent bravado, while -Benilo, who had not lost a word the other had spoken, leaned -forward, his thin lips straightening in a hard white line, -while his narrowing eyelids and his trembling hands attested -his pent up ire louder than words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A toast to the absent," shrieked Roffredo. "A toast to -the most beautiful and the most virtuous woman in Rome, a -toast to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused for an instant, for a white-cheeked face close -to his, whispered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop! On your life be silent!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Roffredo paid no heed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He whirled the crystal goblet round his head, spilling some -of the contents over the girl, who shrank from it, as from -an evil omen. The purple Chianti looked like blood on her -white skin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Theodora!" shouted the drunken youth, as all except -Benilo raised their goblets to join in the toast. "To Theodora, -the Wanton Queen, whose eyes are aglow with hell's hot -fire, whose scarlet lips would kiss the fiend, whose splendid -arms would embrace the devil, were he passing fair to look -upon!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came no further.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May lightning strike you in your tracks!" Benilo howled, -insane with long suppressed rage, as he hurled a heavy -decanter he had snatched from the board, at the head of the -offender.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shrill outcry, dying away into a moan, then into silence, -the crash of broken flagons, a lifeless form gliding from his -paralyzed arms to the floor, roused Roffredo to the reality of -what had happened. The heavy decanter having missed its -aim, had struck the girl Nelida squarely in the forehead, and -the dark stream of blood which flowed over her eyes, her face, -her neck, down her arms, her airy gown, mingled with the purple -wine from the Patrician's spilled goblet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a ghastly sight. In an instant pandemonium reigned -in the hall. The painted women shrieked and rushed for -safety behind columns and divans, leaving the men to -care for the dying girl, whom Bembo and Oliverotto tenderly -lifted to a divan, where the former bandaged the terribly -gashed head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While he did so the poor dancing girl breathed her last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The awful sight had effectually sobered Benilo. For a -moment the drunken noble stared as one petrified on the deed he -had wrought, then the sharp blade of his poniard hissed from -its scabbard and with a half smothered outcry of fury he -flew at Roffredo's throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is your deed, you lying cur!" he snarled into the -trembling youth's face, whom the catastrophe had completely -unnerved and changed into a blanched coward. "Retract -your lying boast or I'll send you to hell ere you can utter a -Pater-Noster!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the unbounded fury of a maniac who has broken -his chains and against whose rage no mortal strength may -cope, Benilo brought Roffredo down on the floor, where he -knelt on his breast, holding his throat in a vice-like grip, -which choked any words the prostrate youth might endeavour -to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The terror of the deed, which had cast its pall over the -merry revellers, and the suddenness of the attack on Roffredo -had so completely paralyzed those present, that none came to -the rescue of the prostrate man, who vainly struggled to -extricate himself from his opponent's clutches. His eyes ablaze -with rage, Benilo had set the point of his dagger against the -chest of his victim, whom now no power on earth seemed -able to save, as his cowardly associates made no effort to stay -the Chamberlain's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He who had seen Benilo, in the palace on the Aventine, -composing an ode in the hall of audience, would have been -staggered at the complete transformation from a diplomatic -courtier to a fiend incarnate, his usually sedate features -distorted with mad passion and rage. A half-choked outcry of -brute fear and despair failed to bring any one to the prostrate -boaster's aid, most of those present, including the women, -thronging round the dead girl Nelida, and Roffredo's fate seemed -sealed. But at that moment, something happened to stay -Benilo's uplifted hand.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-wager"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE WAGER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-a.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t the moment when Benilo had -raised his poniard, to drive it -through his opponent's heart, the -diaphanous curtains dividing the -great hall from the rest of the -buildings were flung aside and -in the entrance there appeared -a woman like some fierce and -majestic fury, who at a -moment's glance took in the -whole scene and its import. Her manner was that -of a queen, of a queen who was wont to bend all men to her -slightest caprice. Every eye in the large hall was bent upon -her and every soul felt a thrill of wonder and admiration. -The ivory pallor of her face was enhanced by the dark gloss -of her raven hair. The slumbrous starry eyes were meant to -hold the memories of a thousand love-thoughts. A dim -suffused radiance seemed to hover like an aureole above her -dazzling white brow, crowning the perfect oval of her face, -adorned with a clustering wealth of raven-black tresses. -She was arrayed in a black, silk-embroidered diaphanous -robe, the most sumptuous the art of the Orient could supply. -Of softest texture, it revealed the matchless contours of her -form and arms, of her regal throat, heightening by the -contrast the ivory sheen of her satin-skin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But those eyes which, when kindled with the fires of love, -might have set marble aflame, were blazing with the torches of -wrath, as looking round the hall, she darted a swift inquiring -glance at the chief offenders, one of whom could not have -spoken had he wished to, for Benilo was fairly strangling him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rest of the company had instinctively turned their faces -towards the Queen of the Groves, endeavouring at the same -time to hide the sight of the dead girl from her eyes by closely -surrounding the couch, with their backs to the victim. But -their consternation as well as the very act betrayed them. -From the struggling men on the floor, Theodora's gaze turned -to the affrighted company and she half guessed the truth. -Advancing towards her guests, she pushed their unresisting -forms aside, raised the cover from the dead girl with the -bloody bandage over the still white face, bent over it quickly -to kiss the dark, silken hair, then she demanded an account of -the deed. One of the women reported in brief and concise -terms what had happened before she arrived. At the sight of -this flower, broken and destroyed, Theodora's anger seemed for -a moment to subside, like a trampled spark, before a great pity -that rose in her heart. In an instant the whole company -rushed upon her with excited gestures and before the Babel of -jabbering tongues, each striving to tell his or her story in a -voice above the rest, the Fury returned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora stamped her foot and commanded silence. At the -sight of the woman, Benilo's arms had fallen powerlessly by his -side and Roffredo, taking advantage of an unwatched moment, -had pushed the Chamberlain off and staggered to his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose deed is this?" Theodora demanded, holding aloft -the covering of the couch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was my accursed luck! The decanter was intended for -this lying cur, whose black heart I will wrench out of his -body!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Benilo pointed to the shrinking form of Roffredo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What had he done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He had insulted you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That proves his courage!" she replied with a withering -glance of contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she beckoned to the attendants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have the girl removed and summon the Greek—though -I fear it is too late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a ring of regret in her tones. It vanished as -quickly as it had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The body of Nelida, the dancing girl, was carried away -and the guests resumed their seats. Roxané had reluctantly -abandoned her usurped place of honour. A quick flash, a -silent challenge passed between the two women, as Theodora -took her accustomed seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A glass of wine!" she commanded imperiously, and -Roffredo, reassured, rushed to the nearest attendant, took a -goblet from the salver and presented it to the Queen of the -Groves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Thanks, Roffredo! So it was you who insulted me -in my absence?" she said with an undertone of irony in -her voice, which had the rich sound of a deep-toned bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said you would embrace the devil, did he but appear -in presentable countenance!" Roffredo replied contritely, -but with a vicious side glance at Benilo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An ominous smile curved Theodora's crimson lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The risk would be slight, since I have kept company with -each of you," she replied. "And our virtuous Benilo took -up the gauntlet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her low voice was soft and purring, yet laden with the -poison sting of irony, as through half-closed lids she glanced -towards the Chamberlain, who sat apart in moody silence like -a spectre at the feast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo scented danger in her tone and answered cautiously:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a coward will hear the woman he loves reviled with -impunity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora bowed with mock courtesy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you wish to honour me with this confession, I care as -little for the one as the other. From your temper I judge -some innocent dove had escaped your vulture's talons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo met the challenge in her smouldering look and -answered with assumed indifference:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your spies have misinformed you! But I am in no mood -to constitute the target of your jests!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is but one will which rules these halls," Theodora -flashed out. "If obedience to its mandates is distasteful to -you, the gates are open—spread your pinions and fly away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She flung back her head and their eyes met.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo turned away, uttering a terrible curse between his -clenched teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a deep hush in the hall, as if the spirit of the -dead girl was haunting the guests. The harps played a plaintive -melody, which might indeed have stolen from some hearth -of ashes, when stirred by the breath of its smouldering spark, -like phantom-memories from another world, that seemed to -call to Theodora's inner consciousness, each note a foot-step, -leading her away beyond the glint and glitter of the world -that surrounded her, to a garden of purity and peace in the -dim, long-forgotten past. Theodora sat in a reverie, her -strange eyes fixed on nothingness, her red lips parted, disclosing -two rows of teeth, small, even, pearly, while her full, white -bosom rose and fell with quickened respiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Queen of the Groves is in a pensive mood to-night," -sneered the Lord of Bracciano, who had been engaged in -mentally weighing her charms against those of Roxané.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I may well be pensive, for I have seen to-day, what I -had despaired of ever again beholding in Rome—can you -guess what it is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shouts of laughter broke, a jarring discord, harshly upon -her speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are perishing with curiosity," shouted, as with one -voice, the debauched nobles and their feminine companions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the name of pity, save our lives!" begged a girl nearest -to Theodora's seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you guess?" the Queen of the Groves repeated -simply, as she gazed round the assembly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All sorts of strange answers were hurled at the throne of -the Queen of the Groves. She heeded them not. Perhaps -she did not even hear them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last she raised her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without commenting on the guesses of her guests, she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have seen in Rome to-day—a man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo squirmed. The rest of the guests laughed harshly -and Bembo, the Poet asked with a vapid grin:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And is the sight so wondrous that the Queen of Love sits -dreaming among her admirers like a Sphinx in the African -desert?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Had he horns?" shouted the Lord of Bracciano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or a cloven hoof?" cried Oliverotto.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was he like?" sneered a third.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora turned upon her questioners, a dash of scorn in -her barbed reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I speak of a man, not reptiles like you—you all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mercy, oh queen, mercy!" begged the apoplectic poet, -amid the noisy clamour of his jeering companions. But -heedless of their jabbering tongues Theodora continued -earnestly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not such men as the barons of Rome are pleased to call -themselves, cowardly, vicious,—beasts, who believe not in -God nor the devil, and whose aim in life is but to clothe their -filthy carcass in gaudy apparel and appease the cravings of -their lust and their greed! I speak of a man, something the -meaning of which is as dark to you as the riddle of the Sphinx."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The company gazed at each other in mute bewilderment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora was indeed in a most singular mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are we not at the Court of Theodora?" shouted the Lord -of Bracciano, who was experiencing some inconvenience in -the feat of embracing with his short arms the two women -between whom he was seated. "Or has some sudden magic -transported us to the hermitage of the mad monk, who -predicts the End of Time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay," Benilo spoke up for the first time since Theodora's -rebuke had silenced him, "perhaps our beautiful Queen of -Love has in store for her guests just such a riddle as the one -the Sphinx proposed to the son of Iokasté—with but a slight -variation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The illiterate high-born rabble of Rome did not catch the -drift of the Patrician's speech, but the pallor on Theodora's -cheeks deepened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roxané alone turned to the speaker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the simile?" she asked in her sweet siren-voice, -tremulous with the desire to clash with her more beautiful -rival.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo shrugged his shoulders, but he winced under -Theodora's deadly gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The simile?" he replied with a jarring laugh. "It is this, -that incest and adultery are as old as the Athenian asses, that -never died, and that the Sphinx eventually drowned herself -in the Aegean Sea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora made no reply, but relapsed into her former state -of thoughtfulness. As she turned from Benilo, her eyes met -those of Roxané, and again the two women flashed defiance -at each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the laughter of the revellers rose, louder than before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the Cross," shouted the poet, "the Queen of Love will -take the veil."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has she chosen the convent, whose nuns she will cause -to be canonized by her exemplary life and glorious example," -jeered Roxané.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall sing a thousand Aves and buy tapers as -large as her unimpeached virtue!" cried another of the -women.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear one nunnery is damned from chapel to refectory," -growled Benilo, keeping his eyes on the floor, as if -fearful of meeting those he instinctively felt burning upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence!" cried Theodora at last, stamping her foot on -the floor, while a glow of hot resentment flushed her cheeks. -"Your merriment and clamour only draws the sharper line -between you and that other, of whom I spoke."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roffredo looked up with a smile of indolence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And who is the demi-god?" he drawled lazily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She measured him with undisguised scorn and contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The name! The story!" bellowed several individuals, -raising their goblets and half spilling their contents in their -besotten mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a strange voice, melodious as the sound of Æolian harps -when the night wind passes over their strings, amid profound -silence Theodora related to her assembled guests the incident -of the runaway steeds in which she had so prominently figured, -the chariot having been her own,—the occupant herself. -She omitted not a detail of the stranger's heroic deed, passing -from her own thrilling experience to Vitelozzo's assault upon -one of the New Vestals, and his discomfiture at the hand of him -who had saved her life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And while your Roman scum hissed and hooted and -raised not a finger in the girl's defence, her rescuer alone -braved Vitelozzo's fury—I saw him whisper something into -the ruffian's ear and the mighty lord skulked away like a -frightened cur. By heaven, I have seen a man!" the Queen of the -Groves concluded ecstatically, disdaining to dwell on her own -rescue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a lingering moment there hovered silence on the -assembly. Gradually it gave way to a flutter of questions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is he?" queried one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is he like?" shouted another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora did not heed the questions. Only her lovely face, -framed by hair dark as the darkest midnight, had grown a -shade more pale and pensive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly she turned to the last questioner, a woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was he like?" she replied. "Tall, and in the prime -of manhood; his face concealed by his vizor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman sighed amorously. The men nodded to each -other with meaning glances. The danger of the convent -seemed passed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo, who during Theodora's narrative had proven an -ideal listener, of a sudden clenched his fist and gazed round -for the harper, who sat in a remote corner of the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another moment's musing, then the Chamberlain ground -his teeth together with the fierce determination to carry out -at all hazards, what he had resolved in his mind. Theodora -herself was playing into his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know this incomparable hero, this modern -Theseus?" he drawled out slowly and with deliberate -impudence, addressing the Queen of the Groves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora's gaze was sharp as steel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it to you?" she hissed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing whatever! I also know him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something in his tone, which struck the -ever-watchful ear of Theodora like a danger-knell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know him?" echoed a chorus of voices from every -part of the great hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waved back the eager questioners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know him!" he declared emphatically, then he was silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora seemed to have grown nervous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you serious?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never more so!" Benilo replied, with a slight peculiar -hardening of the lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he a Roman?" cried a voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All Romans according to our fair Queen's judgment, are -curs and degenerates," Benilo drawled insultingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Even so," she replied coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This demi-god, however, is also slightly known to you," -the Chamberlain continued, now fairly facing the Queen of -Love, "even though he has not yet found his way to your -bowers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora winced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you taunt me?" she flashed back angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo heeded her not. Instead of replying, he addressed -himself to the company, speaking in a dry, half-bantering -tone, while Theodora watched him like a tigress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Once upon a time, the Queen of Love boasted that mortal -man did not breathe who would resist her charms. Now -there is at this hour one man here in Rome, whom even the -matchless Theodora dare not summon to her circle, one man -before whose 'No' her vain-glorious boast would break like -a bubble, one man whose soul she may not sap and send to -hell! And this one man is even the hero of her dreams, her -rescuer,—the rescuer of a maiden of spotless virtue, the -vanquisher of a giant! Do I speak truth, divine Theodora?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Those who watched the expression on the face of the Queen -of the Groves marvelled alike at Benilo's audacity and the -startling absence of a passionate outburst on the part of the -woman. And though the blood seethed through Theodora's -veins, the sudden change of front on Benilo's part seemed to -stagger her for a moment. It was a novel sensation to see the -man who had heretofore been like clay in the moulder's hands -now daring to flout her openly and to hold up her wounded -pride as a target for the jests of those present. It was a novel -sensation, to find herself publicly berated, but the shaft sank -deep. Theodora's eyes flashed scorn and there was something -cruel in her glances. Benilo felt its sting like a -whiplash. His nerves quivered and he breathed hard. But he -had gone too far to recede. His spirit had risen in arms -against the disdain of the woman he loved,—loved with a -passion that seemed to have slept in a tomb for ages and -suddenly gathered new strength, like a fire kindled anew over dead -ashes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Acting on a sudden impulse, he raised his head and looked -at her with a fearlessness which for the moment appeared to -startle her self-possession, for a deep flush coloured the fairness -of her face and, fading, left it pale as marble. Still Theodora -did not speak and the breathless silence which had succeeded -Benilo's last taunt resembled the ominous hush of the heated -atmosphere before a thunder-clap. No one dared speak and -the Chamberlain, apparently struck by the sudden stillness, -looked round from the tumbled cushions where he reclined.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do not answer my question, fair Theodora," he -spoke at last, an undertone of mockery ringing through his -speech. "I grant you power over some weak fools," and -Benilo glanced round the assembly, little caring for the mutter -which his words raised, "but you will at least admit that there -is one man in Rome at this very hour, on whom all your charms -and blandishments would be wasted as a caress on cold -marble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another deep and death-like pause ensued; then Theodora's -silvery cold tones smote the profound silence with sharp -retort, as goaded at last beyond forbearance by his scoffing -tone she sprang to her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is not a man in Rome," she hissed into Benilo's -face, "not in Italy, not in all the world, whom I could not -bend to the force of my will. Where I choose, I conquer!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sardonic laugh broke from Benilo's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And by what means?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Benilo," she flashed forth in withering contempt, "I -know not what your object is in taunting me—and I care -not—but by Lucifer, you go too far! Name to me a man in -Rome, name whom you will, and if I fail to win him in one -month—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment she hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Name the wager yourself!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An ominous smile curved Benilo's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the wealth I possess against you—as my wife!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed scornfully and shuddered, but did not reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you afraid?" he cried, tauntingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a fate!" she replied with trepidation in her tone. -"But I accept it, even it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned her back on him after a look of such withering -contempt as one might cast on some reptile, and took her former -seat, when again she was startled by his voice. Its mock -caressing tones caused her to clench her firm white hands -and bend forward as if tempted to strangle the viper, that had -dared to place its glittering coils in her path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It now remains but to name the champion, just to prevent -the wrong bird from fluttering into the nest," said Benilo, -addressing the company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The champion! The champion!" they shouted, breathing -more freely, since the expected lightning did not strike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fill the goblets!" Benilo exclaimed, and in a moment -the wine was poured, the guests arose and gathered round the -central figures.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo raised his goblet and turned to Theodora, wincing -under her look of contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The champion is to be my choice and to be accepted -unconditionally?" he questioned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so!" she flashed forth, half rising from her seat, -her eyes flaming with wrath. "I would not have my words -distorted by so foul a thing as you! It is to be the rescuer of -the girl, he before whom the lord Vitelozzo slunk away like -a whipped cur! You have taunted me with my lack of power -face to face with that one—and that one alone, the -only man among a crowd of curs!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo paused, then he said with a hard, cold smile:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agreed!" And he placed the goblet to his lips. The -guests did likewise and drank the singular toast, as if it had -not implied a glaring insult to each present, including the one -who reëchoed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now for his name!" Benilo continued. "Just to -prevent a mischance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The irony of his words and the implied insult cut Theodora -to the quick. With hands tightly clenched as If she would -strangle her tormentor, she sprang to her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I object!" she gasped, almost choked with rage, while her -startled listeners seemed to lack even voice to vent their -curiosity before this new and unexpected outburst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I appeal to the company assembled, who has witnessed -the wager between the Queen of Love and her faithful and -obedient lover," Benilo sneered, looking round among the -guests. "How know we, what is concealed under a vizor, -beneath a rusty suit of armour? Security lies but in the name of -the unconscious victim of Theodora's magic, is it not so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The smile on the Chamberlain's countenance caused him to -appear more repulsive than his former expression of wildest -rage. But, prompted by an invincible curiosity, the guests -unanimously assented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be it so!" gasped Theodora, sinking back in her seat. -"I care not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo watched her closely, and as he did so he almost -repented of his hasty wager. Just at that moment his gaze -met that of the harper, who stood like some dark phantom -behind the throne of the Queen of the Groves, and the Chamberlain -stifled the misgivings, which had risen within him. And -though smiling in anticipation of the blow he was about to -deliver, a blow which should prove the sweetest balm for the -misery she had caused him by her disdain, he still wavered, -as if to torment her to the extremest limits. Then, with a -voice audible in the remotest parts of the great hall, he spoke, -his eye in that of Theodora, slowly emphasizing each title -and name:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Margrave Eckhardt of Meissen, Commander-in-chief of -the German hosts!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was the silence of death in the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment Theodora stared fixed and immobile as a -marble statue, her face pale as death, while a thin stream of -purple wine, spilled from her trembling goblet, trickled down -her white, uplifted arm. Then she rushed upon him, and -knocking the goblet out of his hand, causing it to fall with a -splintering crash at Benilo's feet, she shrieked till the very walls -re-echoed the words:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You lie! You lie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo crossed his arms over his chest, and, looking squarely -into the woman's eyes, he repeated in the same accents of -defiance:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Margrave Eckhardt of Meissen, Commander-in-chief of -the German hosts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Again I tell you you lie! You lie!" shrieked the woman, -now almost beside herself. "Is there no one among all this -scum here assembled, to chastise this viper? Hear me!" she -cried as, affrighted, the guests shrank back from her blazing -eyes and panting breath, while with all the superhuman -beauty of a second Medusa she stood among them, and if her -gaze could have killed, none would have survived the hour. -"Hear me! Benilo has lied to you, as time and again he has -lied to me! He, of whom he speaks, is dead,—has died—long ago!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo breathed hard. "Then he has arisen from the dead -and returned to earth,—to Rome—" he spoke with biting -irony in his tones. "A strange hereditary disease affecting -the members of his house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he saw the deadly pallor which covered the woman's -face, and the terror reflected in her eyes, Benilo continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And deem you in all truth, O sagacious Theodora, that -a word from the lips of any other man would have caused -Vitelozzo to release his prey? Deem you not in your undoubted -wisdom that it required a reason, even weightier than the blow -of a gauntleted hand, to accomplish this marvellous feat? -And,—since you are dumb in the face of these arguments,—will -you not enlighten us all why Theodora, the beautiful, the -chaste, would deprive him of the plume, to whom it rightfully -belongs,—the German commander, Margrave Eckhardt of -Meissen, who risked his life to save that of our beautiful -queen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora turned upon her tormenter like an animal at bay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard enough! I will not! The wager is off!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And rising she prepared to leave the hall without another -word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It would have been difficult for the most profound physiognomist -to analyze Benilo's feelings, when he saw his purpose, -his revenge, foiled. Looking up he met the enigmatic gaze of -the harper resting upon him with a strange mixture of derision -and disdain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay!" Benilo cried to Theodora as she grasped the curtain -in the act of pushing it aside. He knew if she passed -beyond it, he had lost beyond retrieve. But she paused and -turned, mute inquiry and defiance in her look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Queen of the Groves has made a wager before you -all," the Chamberlain shouted, lashing himself into the rage -needful to make him carry out his design unflinchingly. -"After being informed of the person of the champion she has -repudiated it! The reasons are plain,—the champion is -beyond her reach! The Queen of the Groves is too politic to -play a losing game, especially when she knows that she is sure -to lose! The charms of our Goddess are great, but alas! -There is one man in Rome whom she dare not challenge!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused to study the effect of his words upon her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She regarded him with her icy stare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not a question of power—but of my will!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So be it!" retorted Benilo. "But since the Queen of -Love has refused my wager for reasons no doubt good and -efficient, perhaps there is in this company one less pure, one -less scrupulous, one of beauty as great, who might win, where -Theodora shuns the risk! Will you take up the gauntlet, -fair Roxané, and lure to the Groves, Eckhardt, the general?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Benilo—beware!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shrill, sharp like breaking glass, like the cry of a wounded -animal maddened with rage and agony, the outcry seemed -wrenched from Theodora's white, drawn lips. Her large, -splendid eyes flashed unutterable scorn upon the Chamberlain -and her lithe form swayed and crouched as that of a tigress -about to spring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will Roxané take the wager?" Benilo repeated defiantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The anticipation of the on-coming contest caused Roxané's -cheek to blanch. But not to be thought deficient in courage, -to meet her rival, she replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since the Queen of the Groves shuns the test, perhaps I -might succeed, where—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not finish the sentence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like a lightning flash Theodora turned from the man, who -had roused her ire, to the woman who had stung her pride -with ill-veiled mockery, and while she slowly crept towards -her opponent, her low voice, tremulous with scorn, stung as -a needle would the naked flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And do you dream that Eckhardt of Meissen has aught -to fear from you, fair Roxané? Deem you, that the proud -Roxané with all her charms, could cause the general of the -German host to make one step against his will?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment the two women stood face to face, measuring -each other with deadly looks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what if I would?" flashed Roxané.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two white hands slowly but firmly encircled her throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would strangle you!" hissed Theodora, her face deadly pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roxané's cheeks too had lost their colour. She knew her -opponent and she instinctively felt she had reached the limit. -She gave a little nervous laugh as she drew Theodora's reluctant -hands from the marble whiteness of her throat, where their -touch had left a rosy imprint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not wish your Saxon bear," she said. "If you can -tame him, we come to his skin!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Lucifer!" replied the Queen of the Groves, "did I but -choose to, I would make him forget heaven and hell and bring -him to my feet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How dramatic!" sneered Benilo. "Words are air! We -want proofs!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She whirled upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what will become of the snake, when the hunter appears?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo paled. For a moment his arrogance deserted him. -Then he said with an ominous scowl:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let the hunter beware!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She regarded him with icy contempt. Then she turned to -the revellers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since Benilo has dared to cross swords with me," she -cried, "though I despise him and all of you, I accept the -challenge, if there is one in this company who will confirm that it -was Eckhardt who discomfited Vitelozzo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the background of the hall, where he had sat a silent -listener, there came forward an individual in the gaudy attire -of a Roman nobleman. He was robust and above the middle -height, and the lineaments of his coarse face betrayed -predominance of brute instincts over every nobler sentiment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vitelozzo! Vitelozzo!" the guests shouted half amazed, -half amused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The robber-baron nodded as he faced Theodora on the edge -of the circle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have listened to your discourse," he snarled curtly. -"For your opinions I care not. And as for the skullion to -whom I gave in,—out of sheer good will,—ha, ha!—may -the devil pull the boots from his legs!—'twas no meaner -a person than he, at whose cradle the fiend stood sponsor, -Eckhardt—the general—but I will yet have the girl, I'll -have her yet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with a vigorous nod Vitelozzo took up a brimming -decanter and transported himself into the background whence -he had arisen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His word had decided the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment there was an intense hush. Then Theodora -spoke:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eckhardt of Meissen, the commander of the German -hosts, shall come to my court! He shall be as one of -yourselves, a whimpering slave to my evil beauty! I will -it,—and so it shall be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment she glanced at Benilo and the blood froze -in his veins. Heaven and earth would he have given now to -have recalled the fateful challenge. But it was too late. For -a time he trembled like an aspen. No one knew what he -had read in Theodora's Medusa-like face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some of the revellers, believing the great tension relieved, -now pushed eagerly forward, surrounding the Queen of the -Groves and plying her with questions. They were all eager to -witness a triumph so difficult to achieve, as they imagined, -that even Theodora, though conscious of her invincible -charms, had winced at the task.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Queen of Love seemed to have exchanged the -attributes of her trade for those of a Fury, for she turned upon -them like an animal wounded to death, that sees the hounds -upon its track and cannot escape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back! All of you!" she hissed, raising her arms and -sweeping them aside. "What is it after all? Is he not a -man, like—no! Not like you, not like you!—Why should -I care for him?—Perhaps he has wife and child at home:—the -devils will laugh the louder!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paused a moment, drawing a deep breath. Then she -slowly turned towards the cringing Chamberlain. Her voice -was slow and distinct and every word struck him as the blow -from a whip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I accept your wager," she said, "and I warn you that I -will win! Win, with all the world, with all your villainy, with -the Devil himself against me. Eckhardt shall come to the -Groves! But," she continued with terrible distinctness, "if -aught befall him, ere we have stood face to face, I shall know -the hand that struck the blow, were it covered by the deepest -midnight that ever blushed at your foulness, and by the -devil,—I will avenge it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After these words Theodora faced those assembled with -her splendid height in all the glory of her beauty. Another -moment she was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a time deep silence succeeded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never had such a scene been witnessed in the Groves. -Never had the Queen of Love shown herself in so terrible a -mood. Never had mortal dared to brave her anger, to challenge -her wrath. Truly, the end of time must be nigh when her -worshippers would dare defy the Goddess of the Shrine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But after Theodora had disappeared, the strain gradually -relaxed and soon wore away entirely. With all, save Benilo. -His calm outward demeanour concealed only with an effort his -terrible apprehensions, as he mixed freely, to divert suspicion, -with the revellers. These thought the moments too precious -to waste with idle speculations and soon the orgy roared anew -through the great hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo alone had retreated to its extreme end, where he -allowed himself to drop into a divan, which had just been -deserted by a couple, who had been swept away by the whirling -Bacchanale. Here he sat for some time, his face buried in -his hands, when looking up suddenly he found himself face to -face with Hezilo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have done it," he muttered, "and I fear I have gone too -far!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, scanning the harper's face for approval. -Its expression he could not see, but there was no shade of -reproof in the voice which answered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At best you have but erred in the means."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wished to break her pride, to humble her, and now the -tables are turned; it is I, who am grovelling in the dust."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No woman was by such means ever wooed or won," the -harper replied after a brief pause. "Theodora will win the -wager. But whether she win or lose, she will despise you for -ever more!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo pressed his hands against his burning temples.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My heart is on fire! The woman maddens me with her -devilish charms, until I am on the verge of delirium."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have been too pliant! You have become her slave! -Her foot is on your neck! You have lost yourself! Better -a monstrous villain, than a simpering idiot, who whines -love-ditties under his lady's bower and bellows his shame -to the enduring stars! Dare to be a man,—despite yourself!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So absorbed was Benilo in his own thoughts, that the biting -irony of the other's speech was lost upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He extended his hand to his strange counsellor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It shall be as you say: The Rubicon is passed. I have -no choice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stranger nodded, but he did not touch the proffered -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last the Chamberlain rose to leave the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sounds of lutes and harps quivered through the Groves -of Theodora; flutes and cymbals, sistrum and tympani mingled -their harmonies with the tempest of sound that hovered over -the great orgy, which was now at its height. The banquet-hall -whirled round him like a vast architectural nightmare. -Through the dizzy glare he beheld perspectives and seemingly -endless colonnades. Everything sparkled, glittered, and -beamed in the light of prismatic irises, that crossed and shattered -each other in the air. Viewed through that burning haze even -the inanimate objects seemed to have waked to some fantastic -representation of life.—But through it all he saw one face, -supremely fair in its marble cold disdain,—and unable to -endure the sight longer Benilo the Chamberlain rushed out -into the open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the distance resounded the chant of pilgrims traversing -the city and imploring the mercy and clemency of heaven.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="john-of-the-catacombs"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">JOHN OF THE CATACOMBS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="O" src="images/img-cap-o.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>nce outside of the pavillion, -Benilo uttered a sigh of relief. -He had resolved to act without -delay. Ere dawn he would be -assured that he held in his -grasp the threads of the web. -There was no time to be lost. -Onward he hurried, the phantom -of the murdered girl floating -before his eyes in a purple haze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While bearing himself ostensibly in the character of a -mere man of pleasure, Benilo the Chamberlain lost no -opportunity of ingratiating himself with the many desperate -spirits who were to be found in the city ready and -willing to assist at any enterprise, which should tend to -complicate the machine of government. While he rushed into -every extravagance and pleasure, surpassing the companions -of his own rank in his orgies, he suffered no symptoms of a -deeper feeling to escape him, than that of excellence in trifling, -the wine cup, the pageant, the passing show. It may have -been a strain of mongrel blood, filtering through his veins, -which tempered his endurance with the pliancy essential to -intrigue, a strain that was apparent in the sculptured regularity -of his features. His movements had the pliant ease, the -stealthy freedom of the tiger. Had he been caught like Milo, -he would have writhed himself out of the trap with the sinuous -persistency of the snake. There was something snake-like -in the small, glittering eyes, the clear smoothness of the skin. -With all its brightness no woman worthy of the name but -would have winced with womanly instincts of aversion and -repugnance from his glances. With all its beauty, none, -save Otto alone, had ever looked confidingly into his face. -Men turned indeed to scan him approvingly as he passed, -but they owned no sympathy with the smooth, set brow, the -ever present smile in the lips of Benilo the Chamberlain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After deliberating upon the course he was about to pursue -Benilo approached the shores of the Tiber. Under the cypress -avenues it was dark, and the air came up chill and damp from -the stream. A sombre blue over-arched the labyrinth of pillars -and ruins, of friezes and statues, of groves and glades which -lay dreaming in the pale light of the moon. No other light, -save the moist glimmer of the stars whose mist-veiled brightness -heralded the approach of a tempest, fell on the chaos of -undefined forms. Utter solitude, utter silence prevailed. -More and more Benilo lost himself in the wilderness of this -ill-favoured region.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shortest way to the haunts of John of the Catacombs, -of whom he was in immediate search, lay across the ancient -Alta Semita, where now the Via di Porta Pia winds round the -Quirinal hill. But for reasons of his own the Chamberlain -chose to make a detour, preferring streets whose deserted -character would not be likely to bring him into contact with -some unwelcome, nocturnal rambler. Wrapping himself more -closely in his cloak and looking cautiously about, he hastened -along the North Western declivity of the Quirinal hill, until he -reached the remains of a wall built, so tradition has it, by -Servius Tullius. This quarter had ever since the time of the -emperors enjoyed the worst reputation in all Rome. The streets -were tortuous, the houses, squalid, the whole surroundings -evil. Benilo moved cautiously along the wall, for a few -drinking shops were still open and frequented by a motley throng, -with whom it was not safe to mingle, for to provoke a brawl, -might engender grave consequences. Wretched women plied -their shameful trade by the light of flickering clay-lamps; -and watery-eyed hags, the outcasts of all nations, mingled -with sailors, bandits and bravi. Drunken men lay snoring -under tables and coarse songs were shouted from hoarse throats, -half drowned by the uproarious clamour of two fellows who -were playing at dice. Suddenly there was a commotion followed -by piercing shrieks. The gamblers had fallen out over -their pretty stakes. After a short squabble one had drawn his -knife on the other and stabbed him in the side. The wounded -man fell howling on the ground and the assassin took to his -heels. The dancers of the establishment, heedless of the -catastrophe, began at once to rattle their castagnettes and -sway and whirl in disgraceful pantomime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After Benilo had passed the shameful den and reached the -end of the alley he found himself once more in one of the -waste regions of the city. Truly many an emperor was more -easily discovered than John of the Catacombs. The region -had the appearance as if an earthquake had shattered into -dust the splendid temples and porticoes of antiquity, so great -was the destruction, which confronted him on every turn. -High in the air could be heard the hoarse cry of the vulture, -wheeling home from some feast of carnage; in the near-by -marshes the croaking of the frogs alternated with the dismal -cry of the whippoorwill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the Chamberlain paused and for a moment even -his stout heart stopped beating, and his face turned a ghastly -pallor. For directly before him there arose out of the -underbrush, with back apparently turned towards him, some formless -apparition in the dark habit of a monk, the cowl drawn over -his head. But when he attained his natural height, he faced -Benilo, although the latter would have sworn that he did not -see him turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was with some degree of fascination that Benilo watched -the person and the movements of this human monster. What -appeared of his head from under the cowl seemed to have -become green with cadaverous tints. One might say that the -mustiness of the sepulchre already covered the bluish down of -his skin. His eyes, with their strong gaze sparkled from -beneath a large yellowish bruise, and his drooping jaws were -joined to the skin by two lines as straight as the lines of a -triangle. The bravo's trembling hands, the colour of yellow -wax, were only a net-work of veins and nerves. His sleeves -fluttered on his fleshless arms like a streamer on a pole. His -robe fell from his shoulders to his heels perfectly straight -without a single fold, as rigid as the drapery in the later -pictures of Cimabue or Orcagna. There appeared to be nothing -but a shadow under the brown cowl and out of that shadow -stared two stony eyes. John of the Catacombs looked like a -corpse returned to earth, to write his memoirs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the sight of the individual, reputed the greatest scourge -in Rome, the Chamberlain could not repress a shudder, and -his right hand sought mechanically the hilt of his poniard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—thou art a merry dog in thy friar's cowl, Don -Giovan, though it will hardly save thee from the gallows," -exclaimed Benilo, approaching slowly. "Since when dost -affect monastic manners?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since the fiend is weary of saints, their cowls go begging," -a harsh grating voice replied, while a hideous sneer lit up the -almost fleshless skull of the bravo, as with his turbid yellow -eyes, resembling those of a dead fish, he stared in Benilo's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And for all that," the denisen of the ruins continued, -watching from under inflamed eyelids the effect his person -produced on his Maecenas, "and for all that I shall make as -good a saint as was ever catalogued in your martyrology."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fiend for aught might make the same," replied Benilo. -"What is your business here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Watching over dead men's bones," replied the bravo doggedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never lie to the devil,—you will neither deceive him -nor me! Not that I dispute any man's right to be hanged -or stabbed—least of all thine, Don Giovan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis for another to regulate all such honours," replied -the bravo. "And it is an old saying, never trust a horse or -a woman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo started as if the bravo had read his thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You prate in enigmas," he said after a pause. "I will be -brief with you and plain. We should not scratch, when we -tickle. I am looking for an honest rogue. I need a trusty -and discreet varlet, who can keep his tongue between his teeth -and forget not only his master's name, but his own likewise. -Have you the quality?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John of the Catacombs stared at the speaker as if at a loss -to comprehend his meaning. Instead of answering he glanced -uneasily in the direction of the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak out, man, my time is brief," urged the Chamberlain, -"I have learned to value your services even in the harm you -have wrought, and if you will enter my service, you shall some -day hang the keys of a nobler tower on your girdle than you -ever dreamt of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bravo winced, but did not reply. Suddenly he raised -his head as if listening. A sound resembling the faint splash -of an oar broke the stillness. A yell vibrated through the air, -a louder splash was heard, then all was deep silence as before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That sounded not like the prayer of a Christian soul -departing," Benilo said with an involuntary shudder, noting -the grin of satisfaction which passed over the outlaw's face. -"What was that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of my evil brother an evil instrument," replied John of -the Catacombs enigmatically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear you will have to learn manners in my school, Don -Giovan," said Benilo in return. "But your answer. Are -you ready?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This very night?" gasped the bravo, suspecting the offer -and fearful of a snare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" demanded the Chamberlain curtly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am bound in another's service!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are an over-punctilious rogue, Don Giovan. To-morrow -then!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agreed!" gurgled the bravo, extending a monstrously -large hand from under his gown, with a forefinger of -extraordinary length, on the end of which there was a wart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo pretended not to see the proffered member. But -before addressing himself further to John of the Catacombs -he glanced round cautiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are we alone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bravo nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is my presence here not proof enough?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The argument prevailed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To our business then!" Benilo replied guardedly, seating -himself upon a fragment of granite and watching every gesture -of the bravo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There arrived to-day in Rome, Eckhardt the general. -His welfare is very dear to me! I should be disconsolate -came he to harm in the exercise of his mission, whatever that -be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief pause during which their eyes met.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The outlaw's face twitched strangely. Or was it the play -of the moonbeams?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Being given to roaming at random round the city," -Benilo continued, speaking very slowly as if to aid the bravo's -comprehension, "for such is their wont in their own -wildernesses,—I am fearful he might go astray,—and the Roman -temper is uncertain. Yet is Eckhardt so fearless, that he -would scorn alike warning or precaution. Therefore I would -have you dog his footsteps from afar,—but let him not suspect -your presence, if you wish to see the light of another morning. -Wear your monk's habit, it becomes you! You look as lean -and hungry and wolfish as a hermit of twelve years' halo, -who feeds on wild roots and snails. But to me you will each -day report the points of interest, which the German leader -has visited, that I too may become familiar with their attraction. -Do I speak plainly?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will follow him as his shadow," gurgled the bravo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo held out a purse which John of the Catacombs -greedily devoured with his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a greedy knave," he said at last with a forced -laugh. "But since you love gold so dearly, you shall feast -your eyes on it till they tire of its sheen. Be ready at my first -call and remember—secrecy and despatch!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When shall it be?" queried the bravo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A matter of a day or two at best—no longer! Meanwhile -you will improve your antiquarian learning by studying the -walks of Rome in company with the German general. But -remember your distance, unless you would meet the devil's -grandame instead of creeping back to your hovels. And where, -by the way, may a pair of good eyes discover John of the -Catacombs in case of urgent need?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bravo seemed to ponder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is an old inn behind the Forum. It will save your -messenger the trouble to seek me in the Catacombs. Have -him ask for the lame brother of the Penitents,—but do not -write, for I cannot read it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I can trust you, the gain will be yours," he said. "And -now—lead the way!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John of the Catacombs preceded his new patron through -the tall weeds which almost concealed him from view, until -they reached a clearing not far from the river, whose turbid -waves rolled sluggishly towards Ostia. Here they parted, the -bravo retracing his steps towards the region whence they had -come, while Benilo made for the gorge between Mounts -Aventine and Testaccio. It was an ill-famed vale, noted even -in remote antiquity for the gross orgies whence it had gained -its evil repute, after the cult of Isis had been brought from -Egypt to Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hour was not far from midnight. The moon had -passed her zenith and was declining in the horizon. Her -pale spectral rays cast an uncertain light over the region -and gave the shadows a weird and almost threatening -prominence. In this gorge there dwelt one Dom Sabbat, half -sorcerer, half madman, towards whose habitation Benilo now -directed his steps. He was not long reaching a low structure, -half concealed between tall weeds and high boulders. Swiftly -approaching, Benilo knocked at the door. After a wait of -some duration shuffling foot steps were to be heard within. -A door was being unbarred, then the Chamberlain could -distinguish the unfastening of chains, accompanied by a low -dry cough. At last the low door was cautiously opened and -he found himself face to face with an almost shapeless form -in the long loose habit of the cloister, ending in a peaked -cowl, cut as it seemed out of one cloth, and covering the face -as well as the back of the head, barring only two holes for -the eyes and a slit for the mouth. After the uncanny host -had, by the light of a lantern, which he could shade at will, -peered closely into his visitor's face, he silently nodded, -beckoning the other to enter and carefully barred the door behind -him. Through a low, narrow corridor, Dom Sabbat led the -way to a sort of kitchen, such as an alchemist might use for -his experiments and with many grotesque bends bade his -visitor be seated, but Benilo declined curtly, for he was ill at -ease.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have little time to spare," he said, scarcely noticing the -alchemist's obeisance, "and less inclination to enter into -particulars. Give me what I want and let me be gone out of -this atmosphere, which is enough to stifle the lungs of an -honest man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hi, hi, my illustrious friend," fawned the other with -evident enjoyment of his patron's impatience. "Was the -horoscope not right to a minute? Did not the charm work its -unpronounced intent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis well you remind me! It required six stabs to finish -your bungling work! See to it, that you do not again deceive -me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You say six stabs?" replied Dom Sabbat, looking up -from the task he was engaged in, of mixing some substances -in a mortar. "Yet Mars was in the Cancer and the fourth -house of the Sun. But perhaps the gentleman had eaten -river-snails with nutmeg or taken a bath in snake skins and -stags-antlers?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 67%" id="figure-128"> -<span id="looking-up-from-the-task-he-was-engaged-in"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""Looking up from the task he was engaged in."" src="images/img-081.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"Looking up from the task he was engaged in."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the devil with your river-snails!" exploded Benilo. -"The love-philtre and quickly,—else I will have you smoked -out of your devil's lair ere the moon be two hours older!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The alchemist shook his head, as if pained by his patron's -ill temper. Yet he could not abstain from tantalizing him by -assuming a misapprehension of his meaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hour," he mumbled slowly, and with studied hesitation, -"is not propitious. Evil planets are in the ascendant and -the influence of your good genius is counteracted by -antagonistic spells."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fool!" growled Benilo, at the same time raising his foot -as if to spurn the impostor like a dog. "You keep but one -sort of wares such as I require,—let me have the strongest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither the gesture nor the insult were lost on Dom Sabbat, -yet he preserved a calm and imperturbable demeanour, while, -as if soliloquizing, he continued his irritating inquiries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A love-philtre? They are priceless indeed;—even a -nun,—three drops of that clear tasteless fluid,—and she were -yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Benilo's lips straightened in a hard, drawn line. -Stooping over the alchemist, he whispered two words into -his ear, which caused Dom Sabbat to glance up with -such an expression of horror that Benilo involuntarily burst -into a loud laugh, which sent the other spinning to his task.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ransacking some remote corner in his devil's kitchen he -at last produced a tiny phial, which he wrapped in a thin -scroll. This he placed with trembling hands into those eagerly -stretched out to grasp it and received therefor a hand full of -gold coin, the weight of which seemed to indicate that secrecy -was to constitute no small portion of the bargain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After having conducted his visitor to the entrance, where -he took leave of him with many bends of the head and manifold -protestations of devotion, Dom Sabbat locked his abode -and Benilo hastened towards the city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he mentally surveyed the events of the evening even to -their remotest consequences, he seemed to have neglected no -precaution, nor omitted anything which might eventually -prevent him from triumphing over his opponents. But even -while reviewing with a degree of satisfaction the business of -the night, terrible misgivings, like dream shadows, drooped -over his mind. After all it was a foolhardy challenge he had -thrown to fate. Maddened by the taunts of a woman, he had -arrayed forces against himself which he must annihilate, else -they would tear him to pieces. The time for temporizing had -passed. He stood on the crater of a volcano, and his ears, -trained to the sounds of danger, could hear the fateful rumbling -in the depths below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In that fateful hour there ripened in the brain of Benilo -the Chamberlain a thought, destined in its final consequences -to subvert a dynasty. After all there was no security for him -in Rome, while the Germans held sway in the Patrimony of -St. Peter. But—indolent and voluptuous as he was—caring -for nothing save the enjoyment of the moment, how was he -to wield the thunderbolt for their destruction, how was he to -accomplish that, in which Crescentius had failed, backed by -forces equal to those of the foreigners and entrenched in his -impregnable stronghold?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Benilo weighed the past against the future, the scales -of his crimes sank so deeply to earth that, had Mercy thrown -her weight in the balance it would not have changed the -ultimate decree of Retribution. Only the utter annihilation of -the foreign invaders could save him. Eckhardt's life might -be at the mercy of John of the Catacombs. The poison phial -might accomplish what the bravo's dagger failed to do,—but -one thing stood out clearly and boldly in his mind; the German -leader must not live! Theodora dared not win the wager,—but -even therein lay the greater peril. The moment she -scented an obstacle in her path, she would move all the powers -of darkness to remove it and it required little perspicuity to -point out the source, whence it proceeded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the thought of the humiliation he had received at her -hands, Benilo gnashed his teeth in impotent rage. His pride, -his vanity, his self-love, had been cruelly stabbed. He might -retaliate by rousing her fear. But if she had passed beyond -the point of caring?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As, wrapt in dark ruminations, Benilo followed the lonely -path, which carried him toward the city, there came to him a -thought, swift and sudden, which roused the evil nature within -him to its highest tension.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could his own revenge be more complete than by using his -enemies, one for the destruction of the other? And as for the -means,—Theodora herself would furnish them. Meanwhile—how -would Johannes Crescentius bear the propinquity of his -hereditary foe, the emperor? Might not the Senator be goaded -towards the fateful brink of rebellion? Then,—Romans and -Germans once more engaged in a death grapple,—his own time -would come, must come, the time of victory and ultimate -triumph.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-vision-of-san-pancrazio"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE VISION OF SAN PANCRAZIO</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>wo days had elapsed since -Eckhardt's arrival in Rome. At the -close of each day, he had met -Benilo on the Palatine, each -time renewing the topic of their -former discourse. Benilo had -listened attentively and, with all -the eloquence at his command, -had tried to dissuade the -commander from taking a step so -fateful in its remotest consequences. On the evening of the -third day the Chamberlain had displayed a strange disquietude -and replied to Eckhardt's questions with a wandering mind. -Then without disclosing the nature of the business which he -professed to have on hand, they parted earlier than had been -their wont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shades of evening began to droop with phantom swiftness. -Over the city brooded the great peace of an autumnal -twilight. The last rays of the sun streaming from between a -heavy cloud-bank, lay across the landscape in broad zones of -brilliancy. In the pale green sky, one by one, the evening -stars began to appear, but through the distant cloud-bank -quivered summer lightning like the waving of fiery whips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Feeling that sleep would not come to him in his present -wrought up state of mind, Eckhardt resolved to revisit the -spot which held the dearest he had possessed on earth. Perhaps, -that prayer at the grave of Ginevra would bring peace to -his soul and rest to his wearied heart. His feet bore him -onward unawares through winding lanes and deserted streets -until he reached the gate of San Sebastiano. There, he left the -road for a turfy hollow, where groups of black cypress trees -stretched out their branches like spectral arms, uplifted to -warn back intruders. He stood before the churchyard of -San Pancrazio.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pausing for a moment irresolutely before its gloomy portals -Eckhardt seemed to waver before entering the burial ground. -Hushing his footsteps, as from a sense of awe, he then followed -the well-known path. The black foliage drooped heavily -over him; it seemed to draw him in and close him out of -sight, and although there was scarcely any breeze, the dying -leaves above rustled mysteriously, like voices whispering some -awful secret, known to them alone. A strange mystery seemed -to pervade the silence of their sylvan shadows, a mystery, -dread, unfathomable, and guessed by none. With a dreary -sense of oppression, yet drawn onward by some mysterious -force, Eckhardt followed the path, which here and there was -over-grown with grass and weeds. Uneasily he lifted the -overhanging branches and peered between the dense and luminous -foliage. Up and down he wistfully gazed, now towards the -winding path, lined by old gravestones, leading to the cloister; -now into the shadowy depths of the shrubbery. At times he -paused to listen. Never surely was there such a silence -anywhere as here. The murmur of the distant stream was lost. -The leaves seemed to nod drowsily, as out of the depths of a -dream and the impressive stillness of the place seemed a silent -protest against the solitary intruder, a protest from the dead, -whose slumber the muffled echo of his footsteps disturbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the first time Eckhardt repented of his nocturnal visit -to the abode of the dead. Seized with a strange fear, his -presence in the churchyard at this hour seemed to him an -intrusion, and after a moment or two of silent musing he -turned back, finding it impossible to proceed. Absently he -gazed at the decaying flowers, which turned their faces up to -him in apparent wonderment; the ferns seemed to nod and -every separate leaf and blade of grass seemed to question him -silently on the errand of his visit. Surely no one, watching -Eckhardt at this place and at this hour, if there was such a -one near by chance, would have recognized in him the stern -soldier who had twice stormed the walls of Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Onward he walked as in the memory of a dream, a strange -dream, which had visited him on the preceding night, and -which now suddenly waked in his memory. It was a vague -haunting thing, a vision of a great altar, of many candles, of -himself in a gown of sack-cloth, striving to light them and -failing again and again, yet still seeing their elusive glare in -a continual flicker before his eyes. And as he mused upon -his dream his heart grew heavy in his breast. He had grown -cowardly of pity and renewed grief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Following a winding path, so overgrown with moss that -his footsteps made no sound upon it, which he believed would -lead him out of the churchyard, Eckhardt was staggered by -the discovery that he had walked in a circle, for almost -directly before him rose the grassy knoll tufted with palms, -between which shone the granite monument over Ginevra's -grave. Believing at this moment more than ever in his life -in signs and portents, Eckhardt slowly ascended the sloping -ground, now oblivious alike to sight and sound, and lost in the -depths of his own thoughts. Bitter thoughts they were and -dreamily vague, such as fever and nightmare bring to us. -Relentlessly all the long-fought misery swept over him again, -burying him beneath waves so vast, that time and space -seemed alike to vanish. He knelt at the grave and with a -fervour such as is born of a mind completely lost in the depths -of mysticism, he prayed that he might once more behold -Ginevra, as her image lived in his memory. The vague -deep-rooted misery in his heart was concentrated in this greatest -desire of his life, the desire to look once more upon her, who -had gone from him for ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After having exhausted all the pent-up fervour of his soul -Eckhardt was about to rise, little strengthened and less -convinced of the efficacy of his prayer, when his eyes were fixed -upon the tall apparition of a woman, who stood in the shadow -of the cypress trees and seemed to regard him with a strange -mixture of awe and mournfulness. With parted lips and rigid -features, the life's blood frozen in his veins, Eckhardt stared -at the apparition, his face covered with a pallor more deadly -than that of the phantom, if phantom indeed it was. A long -white shroud fell in straight folds from her head to her feet, -but the face was exposed, and as he gazed upon it, at once so -calm and so passionate, so cold and yet so replete with -life,—he knew it was Ginevra who stood before him. Her eyes, -strangely undimmed by death, burnt into his very soul, and his -heart began to palpitate with a mad longing. Spreading out -his arms in voiceless entreaty, the half-choken outcry: -"Ginevra! Ginevra!" came from his lips, a cry in which was -mingled at once the most supreme anguish and the most -supreme love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as the sound of his voice died away, the apparition had -vanished, and seemed to have melted into air. Only a lizard -sped over the stone in the moonlight and in the branches of -the cypress trees above resounded the scream of some startled -night-bird. Then everything faded in vague unconsciousness, -across which flitted lurid lights and a face that suddenly grew -dim in the strange and tumultuous upheaval of his senses. -The single moment had seemed an hour, so fraught with strange -and weird impressions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dazed, half-mad, his brow bathed in cold dew, Eckhardt -staggered to his feet and glanced round like one waking from -a dream. The churchyard of San Pancrazio was deserted. -Not another human being was to be seen. Surely his senses, -strangely overwrought though they were, had not deceived -him. Here,—close beside him,—the apparition had stood -but a moment ago; with his own eyes he had seen her, yet no -human foot had trampled the fantastic tangle of creepers, that -lay in straggling length upon the emerald turf. He lingered -no longer to reason. His brain was in a fiery whirl. Like one -demented, Eckhardt rushed from the church-yard. There -was at this moment in his heart such a pitiful tumult of broken -passions, hopelessness and despair, that the acute, -unendurable pain came later.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As yet, half of him refused to accept the revelation. The -very thought crushed him with a weight of rocks. Amid the -deceitful shadows of night he had fallen prey to that fear from -which the bravest are not exempt in such surroundings. The -distinctness of his perception forbade him to doubt the -testimony of his senses. Yet, what he had seen, was altogether -contrary to reason. A thousand thoughts and surmises, -one wilder than the other, whirled confusedly through his -brain. A great benumbing agony gnawed at his heart. That, -which he in reason should have regarded as a great boon -began to affect him like a mortal injury. By fate or some -mysterious agency he had been permitted to see her once more, -but the yearning had increased, for not a word had the -apparition vouchsafed him, and from his arms, extended in -passionate entreaty, it had fled into the night, whence it had -arisen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Accustomed to the windings of the churchyard, Eckhardt -experienced little difficulty in finding his way out. He paced -through the wastes of Campo Marzio at a reckless speed, like -a madman escaped from his guards. His brain was aflame; -his cheeks, though deadly pale, burned as from the hidden -fires of a fever. The phenomenon had dazzled his eyes like -the keen zigzag of a lightning flash. Even now he saw her -floating before him, as in a luminous whirlwind, and he felt, -that never to his life's end could he banish her image from his -heart. His love for the dead had grown to vastness like those -plants, which open their blossoms with a thunder clap. He -felt no longer master of himself, but like one whose chariot is -carried by terrified and uncontrollable steeds towards some -steep rock bristling precipice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gradually, thanks to the freshness of the night-air, -Eckhardt became a little more calm. Feeling now but half -convinced of the reality of the vision, he sought by the -authentication of minor details to convince himself that he -was not the victim of some strange hallucination. But -he felt, to his dismay, that every natural explanation tell -short of the truth, and his own argumentation was anything -but convincing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the climax of wonderment Eckhardt had questioned -himself, whether he might not actually be walking in a dream; -he even seriously asked himself whether madness was not -parading its phantoms before his eyes. But he soon felt -constrained to admit, that he was neither asleep nor mad. -Thus he began gradually to accept the fact of Ginevra's presence, -as in a dream we never question the intervention of persons -actually long dead, but who nevertheless seem to act like -living people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moon was sinking through the azure when Eckhardt -passed the Church of the Hermits on Mount Aventine. The -portals were open; the ulterior dimly lighted. The spirit of -repentance burned at fever heat in the souls of the Romans. -From day-break till midnight, and from midnight till day-break, -there rose under the high vaulted arches an incessant hum of -prayer. The penitential cells, the vaults underneath the chapels, -were never empty. The crowds which poured into the city -from all the world were ever increasing, and the myriad -churches, chapels and chantries rang night and day with -Kyrie Eleison litanies and sermons, purporting to portray -the catastrophe, the hail of brimstone and fire, until the -terrified listeners dashed away amid shrieks and yells, shaken to -the inmost depths of their hearts with the fear that was upon -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were still some belated worshippers within, and as -Eckhardt ascended the stone steps, he was seized with an -incontrollable desire to have speech with Nilus, the hermit of -Gaëta, who, he had been told, was holding forth in the Church -of the Hermits. To him he would confess all, that sorely -troubled his mind, seeking his counsel and advice. The -immense blackness within the Basilica stretched vastly upward -into its great arching roof, giving to him who stood -pigmy-like within it, an oppression of enormity. Black was the -centre of the Nave and unutterably still. A few torches in -remote shrines threw their lugubrious light down the aisles. -The pale faces of kneeling monks came now and then into full -relief, when the scant illumination shifted, stirred by ever so -faint a breath of air, heavy with the scent of flowers and -incense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Almost succumbing under the strain of superstitious awe, -exhausted in body and mind by the strange malady, which had -seized his soul, his senses reeling under the fumes of incense -and the funereal chant of the monks, his eyes burning with the -fires of unshed tears, Eckhardt sank down before the image -of the Mother of God, striving in vain to form a coherent -prayer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How long he had thus remained he knew not. The sound -of footsteps in the direction of the North transept roused him -after a time to the purpose of his presence. Following the -direction indicated to him by one of the sacristans, Eckhardt -groped his way through the dismal gloom towards the enclosure -where Nilus of Gaëta was supposed to hold his dark sessions. -By the dim light of a lamp he perceived in the confessional the -shadowy form of a monk, and approaching the wicket, he -greeted the occupant with a humble bend of the head. But, -what was visible of the monk's countenance was little -calculated to relieve the oppression which burdened Eckhardt's -soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the mask of the converted cynic peered the eyes of a -fanatic. The face was one, which might have suggested to -Luca Signorelli the traits of his Anti-Christ in the Capella -Nuova at Orvieto. In the deep penetrating eyes was reflected -the final remorse of the wisdom, which had renounced its -maker. The face was evil. Yet it was a face of infinite grief, -as if mourning the eternal fall of man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despite the advanced hour of night the monk was still in -his seat of confession, and the mighty leader of the German -host, wrapt in his long military cloak, knelt before the -emaciated anchorite, his face, manner and voice all betraying -a great weariness of mind. A look of almost bodily pain -appeared in Eckhardt's stern countenance as, at the request -of the monk, who had receded within the gloom of the -confessional, he recounted the phenomena of the night, after -having previously acquainted him with the burden of his grief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk listened attentively to the weird tale and shook -his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am most strangely in my senses," Eckhardt urged, noting -the monk's gesture. "I have seen her,—whether in the -body, or the spirit, I know not,—but I have seen her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have listened, my son," said the monk after a pause, in -his low sepulchral voice.—"Ginevra loved you,—so you -say. What could have wrought a change in her, such as you -hint? For if she loved you in life, she loves you in death. -Why should she—supposing her present—flee from your -outstretched arms? If your love could compel her to return -from the beyond,—why should it lack the power to make the -phantom give response?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Could I but fathom that mystery,—could I but fathom it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you not speak to her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lips but uttered her name!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am little versed in matters of this kind," the monk -replied in a strange tone. "'Tis but the natural law, which may -not be transgressed with impunity. Is your faith so small, -that you would rather uproot the holiest ties, than deem -yourself the victim of some hallucination, mayhap some jeer of -the fiend? Dare you raise yourself on a pedestal, which takes -from her her defenceless virtue, cold and silent as her lips are -in death?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every word of the monk struck Eckhardt's heart with a -thousand pangs. A deep groan broke from his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madman that I was," he muttered at last, "to think -that such a tale was fit for mortal ears."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he turned to the monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you no solace to give to me, no light upon the dark -path, I am about to enter upon,—the life of the cloister, -where I shall end my days?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a long pause. Surprise seemed to have struck -the monk dumb. Eckhardt's heart beat stormily in -anticipation of the anchorite's reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," a voice sounded from the gloom, "have you -the patience, the humility, which it behooves the recluse to -possess, and without which all prayers and penances are in -vain?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Show me how I can humble myself more, than at this -hour, when I renounce a life of glory, ambition and command. -All I want is peace,—that peace which has forsaken me -since her death!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His last words died in a groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peace," repeated the monk. "You seek peace in the -seclusion of the cloister, in holy devotions. I thought Eckhardt -of too stern a mould, to be goaded and turned from his duty -by a mere whim, a pale phantom."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A long silence ensued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," said the Margrave at last, speaking in a low and -broken voice, "I have done no act of wrong. I will do no act -of wrong, while I have control over myself. But the thought -of the dead haunts me night and day. Otto has no further -need of me. Rome is pacified. The life at court is irksome -to me. The king loves to surround himself with perfumed -popinjays, discarding the time-honoured customs of our Northland -for the intricate polity of the East.—There is no place -for Eckhardt in that sphere of mummery."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a few moments the monk meditated in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It grieves me to the heart," he spoke at last, "to hear a -soldier confess to being tempted into a life of eternal abnegation. -I judge it to be a passing madness, which distance and work -alone can cure. You are not fitted in the sight of God and His -Mother for the spiritual life, for in Mezentian thraldom you -have fettered your soul to a corpse in its grave, a sin as black -as if you had been taken in adultery with the dead. Remain in -Rome no longer! Return to your post on the boundaries of -the realm. There,—in your lonely tent, pray nightly to the -Immaculate One for her blessing and pass the day in the saddle -among the scattered outposts of your command! The monks -of Rome shall not be festered by the presence among them of -your fevered soul, and you are sorely needed by God and His -Son for martial life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, you know not all!" Eckhardt replied after a brief -pause, during which he lay prostrate, writhing in agony and -despair. "From youth up have I lived as a man of war.—To -this I was bred by my sire and grandsire of sainted memory. -I have always hoped to die on some glorious field. But it -is all changed. I, who never feared mortal man, am trembling -before a shadow. My love for her, who is no more, has made -me a coward. I tremble to think that I may not find her in -the darkness, whither soon I may be going. To this end -alone I would purchase the peace, which has departed. The -thought of her has haunted me night and day, ever since her -death! How often in the watches of the night, on the tented -field, have I lain awake in silent prayer, once more to behold -her face, that I can never more forget!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was another long pause, during which the monk -cast a piercing glance at the prostrate soldier. Slowly at last -the voice came from the shadows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you still believe yourself thus favoured?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So firmly do I believe in the reality of the vision, that I -am here to ask your blessing and your good offices with the -Prior of St. Cosmas in the matter closest to my heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay," the monk replied as if speaking to himself, "if -you have indeed been favoured with a vision, then were it -indeed presumptuous in one, the mere interpreter of the -will divine, to oppose your request! You have chosen a strict -brotherhood, though, for when your novitiate is ended, you will -not be permitted to ever again leave the walls of the cloister."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Such is my choice," replied Eckhardt. "And now your -blessing and intercession, father. Let the time of my novitiate -be brief!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do what I can," replied the monk, then he added -slowly and solemnly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Christ accepts your obedience and service! I purge you -of your sins in the name of the Trinity and the Mother of God, -into whose holy keeping I now commit you! Go in peace!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I go!" muttered the Margrave, rising exhausted from his -long agony and staggering down the dark aisles of the church.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's footsteps had no sooner died away in the gloom -of the high-vaulted arches, than two shadows emerged from -behind a pillar and moved noiselessly down towards the -refectory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the dim circle of light emanating from the tapers round -the altar, they faced each other a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What ails the Teuton?" muttered the Grand Chamberlain, -peering into the muffled countenance of the pseudo-confessor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He upbraids the fiend for cheating him of the smile of a -corpse," the monk Cyprianus replied with strangely jarring -voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet you fear I will lose my wager?" sneered the -Chamberlain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They have a proverb in Ferrara: 'He who may not eat -a peach, may not smell at it.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you were not revealed to him, you, for whom he has -scoured the very slime of the Tiber?" Benilo queried, ignoring -the monk's facetiousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis sad to think, what changes time has wrought," -replied the latter with downcast eyes. "Truly it behooves -us to think of the end,—the end of time!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And without another word the monk passed down the -aisles and his tall form was swallowed in the gloom of the -Church of the Hermits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The end!" Benilo muttered to himself as he thoughtfully -gazed after the monk. "Croak thou thine own doom, Cyprianus! -One soul weighs as much as another in the devil's -balance!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With these words Benilo passed through the portals of the -church and was soon lost to sight among the ruins of the -Aventine.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="castel-san-angelo"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">CASTEL SAN ANGELO</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="N" src="images/img-cap-n.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ight had spread her pinions -over the ancient capital of the -Cæsars and deepest silence had -succeeded the thousand cries -and noises of the day. Few -belated strollers still lingered in -the deserted squares. Under the -shadows of the Borgo Vecchio -slow moving figures could be -seen flitting noiselessly as phantoms -through the marble ruins of antiquity, pausing for -a moment under the high unlighted arches, talking in -undertones and vanishing in the night, while the remote swell -of monkish chants, monotonous and droning, died on the -evanescent breezes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Round Castel San Angelo, rising, a giant Mausoleum, vast -and sombre out of the solitudes of the Flaminian Way, night -wove a more poetic air of mystery and quiet, and but for the -tread of the ever wakeful sentinels on its ramparts, the colossal -tomb of the emperor Hadrian would have appeared a deserted -Memento Mori of Imperial Rome, the possession of which no -one cared to dispute with the shades of the Cæsars or the -ghosts of the mangled victims, which haunted the intricate -labyrinth of its subterranean chambers and vaults.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pale moon was rising behind the hills of Albano, whose -ghostly rays cast an unsteady glow over the undulating -expanse of the Roman Campagna, and wove a pale silver -mounting round the crest of the imperial tomb, whose towering -masses seemed to stretch interminably into the night, as if -oppressed with their own memories.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a monstrous melodrama was contained in yonder -circular walls! They wore a comparatively smiling look only -in the days when Castel San Angelo received the dead. Then -according to the historian Procopius, the immense three-storied -rotunda, surmounted by a pyramidal roof had its sides covered -with Parian marble, intersected with columns and surmounted -with a ring of Grecian statues. The first story was a -quadrangular basement, decorated with festoons and tablets of -funeral inscriptions, colossal equestrian groups in gilt bronze -at the four corners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Within the memory of living generation, this pile had been -the theatre of a tragedy, almost unparalleled in the annals of -Rome, the scene of the wildest Saturnalia, that ever stained -the history of mediæval state. An incongruous relic of antique -profligacy and the monstrosities of the lower empire, drawing -its fatal power from feudal institutions, Theodora, a woman -illustrious for her beauty and rank, had at the dawn of the -century quartered herself in Castel San Angelo. From there -she exercised over Rome a complete tyranny, sustained against -German influence by an Italian party, which counted amongst -its chiefs Adalbert, Count of Tuscany, the father of this -second Messalina. Her fateful beauty ruled Church and state. -Theodora caused one pontiff after another to be deposed and -nominated eight popes successively. She had a daughter as -beautiful and as powerful as herself and still more depraved. -Marozia, as she was called, reigned supreme in Castel San -Angelo and caused the election of Sergius III, Anastasius III -and John X, the latter a creature of Theodora, who had him -appointed to the bishopric of Ravenna. Intending to deprive -Theodora and her lover, the Pope, of the dominion of Rome, -Marozia invaded the Lateran with a band of ruffians, put to -the sword the brother of the Pope, and incarcerated the pontiff, -who died in prison either by poison or otherwise. Tradition -relates that his corpse was placed in Theodora's bed, and -superstition believes that he was strangled by the devil as a -punishment for his sins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Left as widow by the premature death of the Count of -Tusculum and married to Guido, Prince of Tuscany, Marozia, -after the demise of her second husband, was united by a third -marriage to Hugo of Provence, brother of Guido. Successively -she placed on the pontifical throne Leo VI and -Stephen VIII, then she gave the tiara to John XI, her younger -son. One of her numerous offspring imprisoned in the same -dungeon both his mother and his brother, the Pope, and then -destroyed them. Rumour hath it, however, that a remote -descendant, who had inherited Marozia's fatal beauty, had been -mysteriously abducted at an early age and concealed in a -convent, to save her from the contamination and licentiousness, -which ran riot in the blood of the women of her house. -She had been heard of no more and forgotten long ago.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the changes and vicissitudes of half a century the -family of the Crescentii had taken possession of Castel San -Angelo, keeping their state in the almost impregnable -stronghold, without which the possession of Rome availed but little -to any conqueror. It was a period marked by brutal passions -and feudal anarchy. The Romans had degenerated to the low -estate of the barbarian hordes, which had during the great -upheaval extinguished the light of the Western empire. The -Crescentii traced their origin even to that Theodora of evil -fame, who had perished in the dungeons of the formidable -keep, and Johannes Crescentius, the present Senator and -Patricius, seemed wrapt in dark ruminations, as from the -window of a chamber in the third gallery he looked out into the -night, gazing upon the eddying Tiber below, bordered by dreary -huts, thinly interspersed with ilex, and the barren wastes, -from which rose massive watch-towers. Far away to Southward -sloped the Alban hills. From the dark waving greens of -Monte Pincio the eye, wandering along the ridge of the Quirinal, -reached to the mammoth arches of Constantine's Basilica, to -the cypress bluffs of Aventine. Almost black they looked at -the base, so deep was their shade, contrasted with the spectral -moon-light, which flooded their eminences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chamber in which the Senator of Rome paced to and -fro, was large and exceedingly gloomy, being lighted only -by a single taper which threw all objects it did not touch into -deep shadow. This fiery illumination, casting its uncertain -glimmer upon the face of Crescentius, revealed thereon an -expression of deepest gloom and melancholy and his thoughts -seemed to roam far away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The workings of time, the traces of furious passions, the -lines wrought by care and sorrow were evident in the -countenance of the Senator of Rome and sometimes gave it in the -eyes of the physiognomist an expression of melancholy and -devouring gloom. Only now and then there shot athwart -his features, like lightning through a distant cloud-bank, a -look of more strenuous daring—of almost terrifying keenness, -like the edge of a bare and sharpened sword.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The features of Johannes Crescentius were regular, almost -severe in their classic outlines. It was the Roman type, -softened by centuries of amalgamation with the descendants -of the invading tribes of the North. The Lord of Castel San -Angelo was in the prime of manhood. The dark hair was -slightly touched with gray, his complexion bronzed. The gray -eyes with their glow like polished steel had a Brutus-like -expression, grave and impenetrable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hour marked the close of a momentous interview. -Benilo, the Grand Chamberlain, had just left the Senator's -presence. He had been the bearer of strange news which, if -it proved true, would once more turn the tide of fortune in -the Senator's favour. He had urged Crescentius to make -the best of the opportunity—the moment might never return -again. He had unmasked a plot, the plausibility of which -had even staggered the Senator's sagacious mind. At first -Crescentius had fiercely resented the Chamberlain's suggestions, -but by degrees his resistance had lessened and after -his departure the course outlined by Benilo seemed to hold -rut a strange fascination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After glancing at the sand-clock on the table Crescentius -ascended the narrow winding stairs leading to the upper -galleries of the formidable keep, whose dark, blackened walls -were lighted by tapers in measured intervals, and made his -way through a dark passage, until he reached the door of an -apartment at the opposite end of the corridor. He knocked -and receiving no response, entered, closing the door noiselessly -behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the threshold he paused taking in at a glance the picture -before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The apartment was of moderate size. The lamp in the -oratory was turned low. The windows facing the Campagna -were open and the soft breeze of night stole into the -flower-scented room. There was small semblance of luxury about the -chamber, which was flanked on one side by an oratory, on the -other, by a sleeping room, whose open door permitted a glimpse -of a great, high bed, hung with draperies of sarcenet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On a couch, her head resting on her bare, white arms -reclined Stephania, the consort of the Senator of Rome. Tenderly -the night wind caressed the soft dark curls, which stole down -her brow. Her right hand supported a head exquisitely beautiful, -while the fingers of the left played mechanically with the -folds of her robe. Zoë, her favourite maiden, sat in silence -on the floor, holding in her lap a red and blue bird, which now -and then flapped its wings and gave forth a strange cry. All -else was silent within and without.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania's thoughts dwelt in bygone days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Listless and silent she reclined in her pillows, reviewing -the past in pictures that mocked her soul. Till a few hours -ago she had believed that she had conquered that madness. -But something had inflamed her hatred anew and she felt like -a goddess bent upon punishing the presumption of mortal man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The memory of her husband holding the emperor's stirrup -upon the latter's entry into Rome had rekindled in her another -thought which she most of all had striven to forget. It alone -had, to her mind, sufficed to make reconciliation to existing -conditions impossible. Shame and hate seethed anew in her -soul. She could have strangled the son of Theophano with her -own hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But did Crescentius himself wish to break the shackles -which were forever to destroy the prestige of a noble house, -that had for more than a century ruled the city of Rome? -Was he content to be the lackey of that boy, before whom a -mighty empire bowed, a youth truly, imbued with the beauty -of body and soul which fall but rarely to one mortal's -lot—but yet a youth, a barbarian, the descendant of the Nomad -tribes of the great upheaval? Was there no one, worthy of -the name of a great Roman, who would cement the disintegrated -states of Italy, plant his standards upon the Capitol -and proclaim himself lord of new Roman world? And he, her -husband, from whom at one time she had expected such great -things, was he not content with his lot? Was he not at this -very moment offering homage to the despised foreigners, -kissing the sandals of a heretical pope, whom a bribed -Conclave had placed in the chair of St. Peter through the armed -manifestation of an emperor's will?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The walls of Castel San Angelo weighed upon her like lead, -since Rome was again defiled by these Northern barbarians, -whom her countrymen were powerless to repulse, whom they -dared not provoke and under whose insolence they smarted. -Stephania heaved a deep sigh. Then everything faded from -her vision, like a landscape shrouded in mist and she relapsed -in twilight dreams of a past that had gone forever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment Crescentius lingered on the threshold, as if -entranced by the vision of her loveliness. The stern and -anxious look, which his face had worn during the interview -with the Chamberlain, passed off like a summer storm, as he -stood before his adored wife. She started, as his shadow -darkened the doorway, but the next moment he was at her side, and -taking both her white hands in his, he drew her towards him -and gazed with love and scrutiny into the velvet depths of -her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment her manner seemed slightly embarrassed -and there was something in her tone which did not escape the -Senator's trained ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad you came," she said after the usual interchange -of greetings such as lovers indulge in when brought together -after a brief separation. "My lord's time has been greatly -occupied in the emperor's absence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius failed not to note the reproach in the tone of -his wife, even through her smile. She seemed more radiantly -beautiful than ever at this moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what would my queen have?" he asked. "All I -have, or ever shall have, is hers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Queen indeed,—queen of a sepulcher, of the Mausoleum -of an emperor," she replied scornfully. "But I ask not for -jewels or palaces—or women's toys. I am my lord's -helpmate. I am to take counsel in affairs of state."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A musing glance broke from the Senator's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Affairs of state," he said, with a smile and a sigh. -"Alas,—I hoped when I turned my back on Aventine, there would be -love awaiting me and oblivion—in Stephania's arms. But I -have strange news for you,—has it reached your ear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head. "I know of nothing stranger than the -prevailing state."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He ignored the veiled reproach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Margrave Eckhardt of Meissen, the German commander-in-chief, -is bent upon taking holy orders. I thought it was -an idle rumour, some gossip of the taverns, but within the -hour it has been confirmed to me by a source whose -authenticity is above doubt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your informant?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Benilo, the Chamberlain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And whence this sudden world weariness?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The mastering grief for the death of his wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania fell to musing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Benilo," she spoke after a time, "has his own ends in -view—not yours. Trust him not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius felt a strange misgiving as he remembered his -late discourse with the Chamberlain, and the latter's suggestion, -the primary cause of his visit to Stephania's apartments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear you mistrust him needlessly," he said after a pause. -"Benilo's friendship for the emperor is but the mantle, under -which he conceals the lever that shall raise the Latin world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania gazed absently into space.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As I lay dreaming in the evening light, looking out upon -the city, which you should rule, by reason of your name, by -reason of your descent,—of a truth, I did marvel at your -patience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A laugh of bitter scorn broke from the Senator's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can the living derive force and energy from a past, that is -forgotten? Rome does not want tragedies! It wants to be -danced to, sung to and amused. Anything to make the rabble -forget their own abasement. 'Panem et Circenses' has -been for ever their cry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet ours is a glorious race! Of a blood which has flowed -untarnished in the veins of our ancestors for centuries. It -has been our proud boast, that not a drop of the mongrel -blood of foreign invaders ever tainted our own. It is not for -the Roman rabble I grieve,—it is for ourselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have wondered at my patience, Stephania, at my -endurance of the foreign yoke, at my seeming indifference to -the traditions of our house. Would you, after all, counsel -rebellion?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would but have you remember, that you are a Roman," -Stephania replied with her deep-toned voice. "Stephania's -husband, and too good to hold an emperor's stirrup."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then indeed you sorely misjudge me, if you think that -under this outward mask of serene submission there slumbers -a spirit indifferent to the cause of Rome. If the prediction of -Nilus is true, we have not much time to lose. Send the girl -away! It is not well that she hear too much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The last words, spoken in a whisper, caused Stephania to -dismiss the Greek maid. Then she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And do you too, my lord, believe in these monkish dreams?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The world cannot endure forever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius paused, glanced round the apartment, as if to -convince himself that there was no other listener. Then he -rose, and strode to the curtain, which screened the entrance -to an inner chamber. Not until he had convinced himself -that they were alone, did he resume his seat by the side of -Stephania. Then he spoke in low and cautious accents:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have brooded over the present state, until I am well -nigh mad. I have brooded ever since the first tidings of Otto's -approach reached the city, how to make a last, desperate dash -for freedom and our old rights. I have conceived a plan, as -yet known to none but to myself. Too many hunters spoil -the chase. We cannot count on the people. Long fasts and -abstinences have made them cowards. Let them listen to the -monks! Let them howl their Misereres! I will not break into -their rogue's litany nor deprive them of their chance in -purgatory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused for a moment, as if endeavouring to bring order -into his thoughts, then he continued, slowly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is but seemly that the Romans in some way requite -the affection so royally showered on them by the German -King. Therefore it is in my mind to arrange such festivities -in honour of Otto's return from the shrines of Monte Gargano, -as shall cause him to forget the burden of government."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And enhance his love for our sunny land," Stephania -interposed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That malady is incurable," Crescentius replied. "Otto -is a fantastic. He dreams of making Rome the capital of the -earth,—a madness harmless in itself, were it not for Bruno -in the chair of St. Peter. Single handed their efforts might be -stemmed. Their combined frenzy will sweep everything before -it. These festivities are to dazzle the eyes of the stalwart -Teutons whose commander is a very Cerberus of watchfulness. -Under the cover of merry-making I shall introduce -into Castel San Angelo such forces from the Calabrian themes -as will supplant the lack of Roman defenders. And as for -the Teutons—their souls will be ours through our women; -their bodies through our men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius paused. Stephania too was silent, less -surprised at the message than its suddenness. She had never -wholly despaired of him. Now his speech revealed to her -that Crescentius could be as crafty in intrigue as he was bold -in warfare. Proud as she was and averse to dissimulation -the intrigue unmasked by the Senator yet fascinated her, as -the only means to reach the long coveted goal. "Rome for -the Romans" had for generations been the watchword of her -house and so little pains had she taken to disguise her feelings -that when upon some former occasion Otto had craved an -audience of her, an unheard of condescension, inspired as much -by her social position as by the fame of her unrivalled beauty, -the imperial envoy had departed with an ill-disguised rebuff, -and Stephania had shut herself up within the walls of a -convent till Otto and his hosts had returned beyond the Alps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Within one week, Eckhardt is to be consecrated," Crescentius -continued with slight hesitation, as if not quite assured -of the directness of his arguments with regard to the request -he was about to prefer. "Every pressure is being brought -to bear upon him, to keep him true to his purpose. Even a -guard is—at Benilo's instigation—to be placed at the portals -of St. Peter's to prevent any mischance whatsoever during the -ceremony."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, to watch the effect of his speech upon Stephania -and to ascertain if he dared proceed. But as he gazed into -the face of the woman he loved, he resolved that not a shadow -of suspicion should ever cloud that white brow, caressed by -the dark wealth of her silken hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The German leader removed for ever," Crescentius -continued, "immured alive within the inexorable walls of the -cloister—small is indeed the chance for another German -victory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But will King Otto acquiesce to lose his great leader?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Benilo is fast supplanting Eckhardt in Otto's favour. -Benilo wishes what Otto wishes. Benilo sees what Otto sees. -Benilo speaks what Otto thinks. Rome is pacified; Rome is -content; Rome is happy; what need of heavy armament? -Eckhardt reviles the Romans,—he reviles Benilo, he reviles -the new state,—he insists upon keeping his iron hosts -in the Neronian field,—within sight of Castel San Angelo. -It was to be Benilo or Eckhardt—you know the result."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if you were deceived," Stephania replied with a -shudder. "Your eagle spirit often ascends where mine fails -to follow. Yet,—be not over-bold."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not deceived! I bide my time. 'Tis not by force -men slay the rushing bull. Otto would regenerate the -Roman world. But he himself is to be the God of his new -state, a jealous God who brooks no rival—only subjects or -slaves. He has nursed this dream until it is part of himself, -of his own flesh and blood. What may you expect of a youth, -who, not content to absorb the living, calls the dead to his aid? -He shall nevermore recross the Alps alive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius' tone grew gloomy as he continued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bear the youth no grudge, nor ill-will.—But Rome -cannot share. He has a power of which he is himself -unconscious; it is the inheritance from his Hellenic mother. -Were he conscious of its use, hardly the grave would be a safe -refuge for us. Once Rome triumphed over Hellas. Shall -Hellas trample Rome in the dust in the person of this boy, -whose unspoken word will sweep our old traditions from the -soil?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But this power, this weakness as you call it—what is -it?" Stephania interposed, raising her head questioningly. -"I know you have not scrutinized the armour, which encases -that fantastic soul, without an effort to discover a flaw."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I have discovered it," Crescentius replied, his heart -beating strangely. Stephania herself was leading up to the -fatal subject of his visit; but in the depths of his soul he -trembled for fear of himself, and wished he had not come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what have you discovered?" Stephania persisted -curiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The weak spot in the armour," he replied, avoiding her gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there a remedy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We lack but the skilful physician."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania raised herself from her recumbent position. -With pale and colourless face she stared at the speaker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely—you would not resort to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paused, her lips refusing to utter the words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If such were my desire, the steel of John of the Catacombs -were swifter. No,—it is not like that," he continued musingly, -as if testing the ground inch by inch, as he advanced. "A -woman's hand must lead the youth to the fateful brink. A -woman must enwrap him and entrap him; a woman must -cull the hidden secrets from his heart;—a woman must make -him forget time and eternity, forget the volcano, on whose -crater he stands,—until the great bell of the Capitol shall -toll the hour of doom for German dominion in Rome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, trembling, lest she might read and anticipate -the thoughts of his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she seemed not to guess them, for with a smile she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They say the boy has never loved."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thereon have I built my plans. Some Circe must be -found to administer to him the fatal lotus,—to estrange -him from his country, from his leaders, from his hosts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But where is one to be trusted so supremely?" she questioned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius had anticipated the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is but one in all Rome—but one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And she?" the question came almost in a whisper. "Do -you know her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius breathed hard. For a moment he closed his -eyes, praying inwardly for courage. At last he replied with -seeming indifference:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have known her long. She is loyal to Rome and true to -herself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her name?" she insisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wild laugh resounded in the chamber. Its echoes seemed -to mock those two, who faced each other, trembling, colourless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was Benilo's advice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like a knife-thrust the words from Stephania's lips pierced -the heart of the Senator of Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania stared at him in such bewilderment, as if she -thought him mad. But when he remained silent, when she -read in his downcast eyes the mute confirmation of his speech, -she sprang from her couch, facing him in the whole -splendour of her beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely you are jesting, my lord, or else you rave, you are -mad?" she cried. "Or can it be, that my ears tinkle with -some mockery of the fiend? Speak! You have not said it! -You did not! You dared not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She removed a stray lock of hair from her snow white brow, -while her eyes burnt into those of Crescentius, like two orbs -of living fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your ears did not belie you, Stephania," the Senator said -at last. "I said you are the one—the only one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With these words he took her hands in his and attempted to -draw her down beside him, but she tore them from his grasp, -while her face alternately paled and flushed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay," she spoke with cutting irony, "the Senator of Rome -is a model husband. He disdains the dagger and poison -phial, instead he barters his wife. You have an admirable code -of morality, my lord! 'Tis a pity I do not share your views, -else the fiend might teach me how to profit by your suggestion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius did not interrupt the flow of her indignation, -but his face betrayed a keenness of anguish which did not -escape Stephania's penetrating gaze. She approached him and -laying her hands on his shoulders bade him look her in the eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could you say this to me?" she spoke in softer, yet -reproachful tones. "How could you? Has it come to the -pass where Rome can but be saved by the arts of a wanton? -If so, then let Rome perish,—and we ourselves be buried under -her ruins."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes reflected her noble, undaunted spirit and never had -Stephania appeared more beautiful to the Senator, her husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your words are the seal of loyalty upon your soul, -Stephania," Crescentius replied. "Think you, I would cast -away my jewel, cast it before these barbarians? But you do -not understand. I will be more plain. It was not that part -you were to assume."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania resumed her seat by his side. Her bosom heaved -and her eyes peered dimly through a mist of tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of all the hosts who crossed the Alps with him," Crescentius -spoke with a voice, unsteady at first, but gradually -gaining the strength of his own convictions, "none shares the -emperor's dreams, none his hopes of reconstruction. An -embassy from the Palatinate is even now on the way, to demand -his return.—Not he! But there is one, the twin of his mind -and soul—Gregory the Pontiff, who will soon have his hands -full with a refractory Conclave, and will not be able to succour -his friend in the realization of his fantastic dreams. He must -be encouraged,—his watchfulness beguiled until we are -strong enough to strike the final blow. Only an intellect -equal to his own dares assail the task. He must be led by a -firm hand, by a hand which he trusts—but by a hand never -forgetful of its purpose, a hand closed to bribery of chattel or -soul. He must be ruled by a mind that grasps all the strange -excrescences of his own diseased brain. Let him build up his -fantastic dream-empire, while Rome rallies her forces for a -final reckoning, then let the mirage dissolve. This is the part -I had assigned to you. I can entrust it to none else. Our hopes -hang upon the fulfilment. Thus, his hosts dissatisfied, the -electors muttering beyond the Alps, the Romans awakening -to their own disgrace, the king at odds with his leaders -and himself, the pontiff menaced by the hostile Cardinals, there -is one hope left to us, to crush the invaders—our last. If it -miscarries,—there will not be gibbets enough in the -Campagna for the heads that will swing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania had gradually regained her composure. Raising -her eyes to those of Crescentius, she said with hesitation:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is truth in your words, but I like not the task. I -hate Otto with all my Roman heart; with all my soul do I -hate that boy whose lofty aims shame our depravity. 'Tis -an ill time for masks and mummeries. Why not entrust the -task to the one so eminently fitted for it,—Benilo, the glittering -snake?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There will be work enough for all of us," Crescentius -replied evasively. Somehow he hated to admit even to his -wife, that he mistrusted the Chamberlain's serpent wisdom. -He had gone too far. He dared not recede without betraying -his own misgivings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania heaved a deep sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What would you have me do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have so far studiously avoided the king. You have -not even permitted him to feast his eyes on the most beautiful -woman in all Rome. Be gracious to him, enter into his -vagaries, point out to him old temples and forgotten tombs, -newly dug-up friezes and musty crypts! Tell him of our legends -and lead him back into the past, from whose labyrinth no -Ariadne will guide him back to the present hour,—It is for -Rome I ask."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Truly, were I a man, I would not trap my foe by woman's -wiles, as long as I could grip mace or lance. Is there no man -among all these Romans of yours treacherous enough for -the task?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is even their treachery I dread," replied Crescentius. -"Ambition or the lust of gain may at the last moment carry -victory from the field. My maxim, you know: Trust none—Fear -none! These festivities are to dazzle the aim of -suspicion, to attach the people once more to our cause and to -give you the desired opportunity to spread your nets. Then -lead him step for step away from life, until he shall himself -become but a spectre of the past."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a game unworthy of you and me," Stephania replied -after a long pause. "To beguile a trusting foe—but the end? -What is it to be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Once in the councils of the king, you will lull his -suspicions to slumber! You will counteract the pressure of his -flaxen-haired leaders! You will make him a puppet in your -hands, that has no will save yours. Then sound the -watchword: Rome and Crescentius!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I too love glory," Stephania spoke almost inaudibly. -"Glory achieved by valour, not intrigue. Give me time, my -lord. As yet I hardly know if I am fitted for the high mission -you have laid out for me. Give me but time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There shall be no further mention of this matter between -us," Crescentius replied. "You will be worthy of your self -and of Rome, whose fates I have laid into your hands. The -task is grave, but great will be the reward. Where will the -present state lead to? Is there to be no limit to humiliation? -Is every rebellion unlawful? Has Fate stamped on our brow, -Suffer and be silent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For whom then is this comedy to be enacted?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say for ourselves if you will. Deem you, Stephania, I -would put my head in the sling for that howling mob down -yonder in their hovels? For the rabble which would stone him, -who gives them bread? Or for the barons of Rome, who -have encroached upon our sovereignty? If Fate will but grant -me victory, their robber dens shall crumble into dust, as if -an earthquake had levelled them. For this I have planned this -Comedy of Love—for this alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania slowly rose from her seat beside the Senator. -Every vestige of colour had faded from her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely I have not heard aright," she said. "Did you say -'Comedy of Love'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius laughed, a low but nervous laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why stare you so, Stephania, as if I bade you in all truth -to betray me? Is it so hard to feign a little affection for -this wingless cherub whom you are to mould to your fancies? -The choice is his,—until—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Until it is his no longer," Stephania muttered under her -breath, which quickly came and went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause of some duration, during which the -Senator of Rome restlessly paced the apartment. Stephania -had resumed her former station and seemed lost in deep -rumination. From without no sounds were audible. The -city slept. The evening star burnt low down in the horizon. -The moon sickle slept on the crests of the mountains of Albano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Stephania rose and laid her white arm on the shoulder -of the Senator of Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do your bidding," she said slowly, looking straight -into his eyes, "for the glory of Rome and your own!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For our glory," Crescentius replied with a deep sigh of -relief. "I knew you would not fail me in this hour of need."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania raised her hand, as if deprecating the reward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For your glory alone, my lord,—it will suffice for both -of us," she replied hurriedly, as her arms sank down by her -side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be it so, since you so wish it," Crescentius replied. "I -thank you, Stephania! And now farewell. It waxes late and -grave matters of state require my instant attention. Await -not my return to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And kissing her brow, Crescentius hurriedly left his wife's -apartment and ascended a spiral stairway, leading to the -chamber of his astrologer. Suddenly he staggered, as if he -had seen his own ghost and turned sick at heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have I done!" he gasped, grasping his forehead -with both hands. "What have I done!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was it a presentiment that suddenly rushed over Him, -prompting him to retrace his steps, prompting him to take -back his request? For a moment he wavered. His pride and -his love struggled for supremacy,—but pride conquered. -He would not have Stephania think that he feared a rival on -earth. He would not have her believe that he questioned -her love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After Crescentius had departed from the chamber, Stephania -gazed long and wistfully into the starlit night without, so -calm and so serene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then a laugh, wild and shrill, broke from her lips, and -sinking back among her cushions, a shower of tears came to -her relief.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-sermon-in-the-ghetto"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE SERMON IN THE GHETTO</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he Contubernium Hebræorum, -as it is loftily styled in the -pontifical edicts of the time, -the Roman Ghetto, was a -district of considerable extent, -reclaimed originally from the -swamps of the Tiber at the foot -of the Capitoline Hill, and -surrounded either by lofty walls, -or houses which were not -permitted to have even a loop-hole to the exterior. Five massive -gates, guarded by the halberdiers of the Roman magistrate -were opened at sun-rise and closed at sun-set to emit and to -receive back their jealously guarded inmates, objects of -unutterable contempt and loathing with the populace, into whose -heart the Catholic Church of the Middle Ages had infused a -veneration and love for the person of the Redeemer rather -than for his attributes, and whose passions and devotions were -as yet unalloyed by the skepticism and indifference which -began to pervade the higher ranks of society in the century -of the Renaissance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Three or four times a year, a grand attempt at conversion -was made, the Pope appointing the most renowned ecclesiastics -to deliver the sermons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the occasion about to be described towards the end of -the year 999, the Jews had good reason to expect a more than -commonly devout throng in the train of the pontifical delegate. -They had prepared accordingly. Upon entering the gates of -the Ghetto the beholder was struck with the dreary and melancholy -aspect of the houses and the emptiness of the little shops -which appeared like holes in the walls. Such precious wares -as they possessed had been as carefully concealed as those -they had abstracted on the eve of their departure from Egypt. -The exceeding narrowness of the streets, which were in some -parts scarcely wide enough to allow two persons to walk -abreast, and seemed in a manner arched, in-as-much as one -story extended above the others, increased the disagreeable -effect. Noisome smells greeted the nostrils on every turn and -the flutter of rags from numerous dark lattices seemed to -testify to the poverty within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such the Roman Ghetto appeared on the eve of the great -harangue for which the reigning Pontiff, Gregory V, had, in -accordance with the tradition of the Holy See, delegated the -most renowned light of the church. Not a Jew was to be seen, -much less a Jewess, throughout the whole line of march from -the gates of the Ghetto to the large open square where they -held their markets, and where they had been summoned to -assemble in mass. The long narrow and intricate windings -misled many who did not keep pace with the Pope's delegate -and his attendants, but the greater part of the rabble rushed -into the square like a mountain stream, leaping over opposing -boulders, shouting, laughing, yelling and crushing one another, -as if they were taking possession of a conquered city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The square itself was paved with volcanic tufa, very -unevenly laid. In the center was a great fountain of granite -without the least ornament, intended exclusively for the use of -the inmates of this dreary quarter. Into this square radiated -numberless streets and alleys giving its disordered architecture -the appearance of being reft and split into chasms, some of the -houses being doubtfully propped with timbers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Round the fountain stone benches had been arranged with -tables of similar crude material, at which usually sat the -Elders, who decided all disputes, regulated the market and -governed this inner empire partly by the maxims of common -sense and justice, partly by the laws prescribed by their sacred -books, severe indeed and executed with rigour, without -provoking a thought of appeal to the milder and often opposing -Christian judicature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now this Sanhedrim was installed in its place of honour -for a different purpose; to hear with outward complacency -and inner abhorrence their ancient law denounced and its -abolition or reform advocated. For this purpose a movable -pulpit, which resembled a bronze caldron on a tripod, carried -by four Jewish converts, was duly planted under the supreme -direction of the companion friar of the pontifical delegate, -who ordered its position reversed several times, ere it seemed -to suit his fancy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The delegate of the Pope himself, surrounded by the pontifical -guards, was still kneeling in silent prayer, when a stranger, -who had followed the procession from afar, entered the Ghetto, -unremarked in the general tumult and ensconced himself out -of observation in a dark doorway. From his point of vantage, -Eckhardt had leisure to survey the whole pandemonium. -On his left there rose an irregular pile of wood-work, built not -without some pretentions to architecture, with quaint carvings -and devices of birds and beasts on the exposed joints and -window-frames, but in a state of ruinous decay. About midheight -sloped a pent-house with a narrow balcony, supported like many -of the other buildings by props of timber, set against it from -the ground. The lower part of the house was closed and barred -and had the appearance of having been forsaken for decades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While, himself unseen Eckhardt surveyed every detail of -his surroundings; the preparations for the sermon continued. -Beyond the seats of the Elders was assembled the great mass -of those who were to profit by the exhortation, remarkable -for their long unkempt beards, their glittering eyes and their -peculiar physiognomies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beyond the circle of these compelled neophytes a tumultuous -mob struggled for the possession of every point, whence a view -of the proceedings could be obtained, quarrelling, scoffing and -buffeting the unresisting Jews, whose policy it was not to offer -the least pretext for pillage and general massacre, which on -these occasions hovered over their heads by a finer thread -than that to which hung the sword of Damocles. Without -expostulations they submitted to the rude swaying of the mob, -to their blows and revilings, opposing to their tormentors a -seemingly inexhaustible endurance. But the horror, anxiety, -and rage which glowed in their bosoms were strongly reflected -in their faces, peering through the smoky glare of innumerable -torches, which they were compelled to exhibit at all the windows -of their houses. Engaged in this office only now and then a -woman appeared for a brief instant, for the most part withered -and old, or veiled and muffled with more than Turkish -scrupulousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last the pulpit was duly hoisted and placed to the -satisfaction of the attending friar. The Pope's delegate having -concluded his prayer arose and two of the Elders advanced, -to present him with a copy of the Old Testament, for from their -own laws were they to be refuted. They offered it with a deep -Oriental bend and the humble request, that the representative -of his Holiness, their sovereign, would be pleased to deliver his -message. The monk replied briefly that it was not the message -of any earthly power which he was there to deliver and then -mounted the pulpit by a ladder, which his humbler associate -held for him. The attendant friar then sprinkled a lustration -round the pulpit with a bunch of hyssop, which he had dipped -in an urn of holy water. This he showered liberally upon the -Elders who dared not resent it, and ground their teeth in -impotent rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Strangely interested, as Eckhardt found himself in the -scene about to be enacted, watching the rolling human sea -under the dark blue night-sky, he found his own curiosity -shared by a second personage, who had taken his position -immediately below the door-way, in which he stood concealed. -This worthy wore a large hat, slouched over his face, which -gave him the appearance of a peasant from the marshes; but -his dirty gray mantle and crooked staff denoted him a pilgrim. -Of his features very little was to be seen, save his glittering -minx-eyes. These he kept fixed on the balcony of the ruined -house, which had also attracted Eckhardt's attention. At -other times that worthy's gaze searched the shadows -beneath the gloomy structure with something of mingled -scrutiny and scorn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely this boasted steel-hearted knave of yours means -to play us false? Where is the rogue? He keeps us waiting -long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These words, as Eckhardt perceived, were addressed to an -individual, who, to judge from the mask he wore, did not wish -to be recognized.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were it against the fiend, I would warrant him," answered -a hushed voice. "But folks here have a great reverence for -this holy man, who goes to comfort a plague-stricken patient -more cheerfully than another visits his lady-love. And, if -he needs must die, were it not wiser to venture the deed in -some of the lonely places he haunts, than here in the midst -of thousands?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay," replied his companion in an undertone, every -word of which was understood by his unseen listener. -"Here alone can a tumult be raised without much danger, -and as easily quelled. I do not set forests on fire, to warm -my feet. Here they will lay the mischief to the Jews—elsewhere, -suspicion would be quickly aroused, for what bravo -would deem it worth his while to slay a wretched monk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the pseudo-pilgrim's associate peered into the shadows. -Then he plucked his companion by the sleeve of his mantle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yonder he comes—and by all my sins—streaming like -a water-dog! Raise your staff, but no—he sees us," concluded -the masked individual, shrinking back into the shadows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently a third individual joined the pilgrim and his -friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don Giovan! Thou dog! How long hast kept me gaping -for thee!" the principal speaker hissed into the bravo's face -as he limping approached. "But, by the mass,—who baptized -thee so late in life?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something demoniacal in the sunken, cadaverous -countenance of John of the Catacombs, as he peered into the -speaker's eyes. His ashen-pale face with the low brow and -inflamed eyelids, never more fittingly illustrated a living -sepulchre. He growled some inarticulate response, half stifled -by impotent rage and therefore lost upon his listener. For at -this moment the voice of the preacher was heard above all -the confused noise and din in the large square, reading a -Hebrew text, which he subsequently translated into Latin. It -was the powerful voice of the speaker, which prevented -Eckhardt from distinctly hearing the account which the bravo -gave of his forced immersion. But towards the conclusion of -his talk, the pilgrim drew the bravo deeper into the shadows -of the overhanging balcony and now their conversation became -more distinct.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dog of a villain!" he addressed John of the Catacombs. -"How dare you say that you will fail me in this? Have you -forgotten our compact?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I have not, my lord," replied the bravo, shuddering -with fear and the cold of his dripping garments. "But an -angel was sent for the prevention of the deed! No man would -have braved John of the Catacombs and lived."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou needest not proclaim my rank before all this rabble," -growled the pseudo-pilgrim. "Have I not warned thee, idiot? -Deemest thou an angel would have touched thee, without -blasting thee? What had thine assailant to do to stir up -the muddy waves? An angel! Coward? Is the bribe not -large enough? Name thine own hire then!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pyramid of gold shall not bribe me to it," replied the -bravo doggedly. "But I am a true man and will keep no -hire which I have not earned. So come with me to the -catacombs, and I will restore all I have received of your gold. -But the saints protect that holy man—I will not touch him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pilgrim regarded the speaker with ill-repressed rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Holy—maybe—," he sneered, "holy, according to thy -country's proverb: 'La Cruz en los pechos, el diablo en los -hechos.' Thou superstitious slave! What has one like thou -to fear from either angel or devil?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May my soul never see paradise, if I lift steel against that -holy man!" persisted the bravo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fool! Coward! Beast!" snarled the pilgrim, gnashing -his teeth like a baffled tiger. "You refuse, when this monk's -destruction will set the mob in such roaring mutiny as will -give your noble associates, whom I see swarming from afar, -a chance to commence a work that will enrich you for ever?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For ever?" repeated the bravo, somewhat dubiously. -"But—it is impossible. See you not he is surrounded by -the naked swords of the guards? I thought he would have -come darkling through some narrow lane, according to his -wont, else I should never—moreover I have taken an oath, -my lord, and a man would not willingly damn himself!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you ever and ever forget my injunction and how -much depends upon its observance?" snarled the disguised -pilgrim, looking cautiously around. "I warn you again, not -to proclaim my rank before all your cut-throats! You swore," -he then continued more sedately, "not to lift steel against -him! But have I not seen you bring down an eagle's flight -with your cross-bow? Where is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have sold it to some foreign lord, from beyond the -Alps, where they love such distant fowling," the bravo -replied guardedly. "I for my part prefer to steal my game with -a club, or a dagger."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have no choice! Wait! I think I can yet provide -you with a weapon such as you require! I have for some -time observed yonder worthy, whoever he may be, staring at -that old bower, as if it contained some enchanted princess," -said the pilgrim, emerging slightly from under the shadows -of the doorway and beckoning John of the Catacombs to his -side. This movement brought the two—for the third seemed -to be engaged in a look-out for probable danger—closer -to Eckhardt, but luckily without coming in contact with -him, for it may be conjectured that he had no desire to -expose himself to a conflict in the dark, with three such -opponents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The personage indicated by the disguised pilgrim had -indeed for some time been engaged in scrutinizing the form of -a young girl, who, seemingly attracted by the novelty of the -scene below had appeared behind a window of the apparently -deserted house, vainly soliciting her attentions with gestures -and smiles. He was of middling height, but very stout and -burly of frame, a kind of brutal good humour and joviality -being not entirely unmingled with his harsher traits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the mass!" the disguised pilgrim turned to the object -of his scrutiny, in whom we recognize no lesser a personage -than Gian Vitelozzo, as he cautiously approached and saluted -him. "I see your eyes are caught too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He winked at the window which seemed to hold the -fascination for the other, then nodded approval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Saw you ever a prettier piece of flesh and blood?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet she looks more like a waxen image than a woman -of the stuff you mention, Sir Pilgrim," returned the nobleman -in a barbarous jargon of tenth century Latin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is poisoned by the stench amid which she lives, and -it were charity to take her out of it," replied the pilgrim, -with a swift glance at the cross-bow slung over the other's -shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, by the mass! You speak truth!" affirmed Vitelozzo, -while a fourth personage, whom he had not heretofore observed, -had during their discourse emerged from the shadows and -had silently joined the survey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would the whole Ghetto were put to plunder!" sighed -the baron, turning to the pilgrim, "but I am under severe -penance now by order of the Vicar of the Church."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must indeed have wrought some special deed of -grace, to need his intercession," the pilgrim sneered with -disgusting familiarity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vitelozzo peered into the face of his interlocutor, doubtful -whether to resent the pleasantry or to feel flattered. Then he -shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas but for relieving an old man of some few evil days -of pains and aches," he then replied carelessly. "But since -we are at questioning,—what merit is yours to travel so far -with the cockle-shells? Surely 'twas not just to witness the -crumbling of this planet into its primeval dust?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They say—I killed my brother," replied the disguised -pilgrim coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine was but my uncle," said Vitelozzo eagerly, as if -rejoicing in the comparative inferiority of his crime. "'Tis -true he had pampered me, when a child, but who can wait -for ever for an inheritance?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay—and old men never die," replied the pseudo-pilgrim -gloomily. "You are a bold fellow and no doubt a soldier too," -he continued, simulating ignorance of the other's rank, in -order to gain his point. "I have been a good part of mine -a silly monk. As you see, I am still in the weeds. Yet I will -wager, that I dare do the very thing, which you are even now -but daring to think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What am I thinking then? I pray your worship enlighten -my poor understanding," replied the nobleman sarcastically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are marking how conveniently those timbers are set -to the balcony of yonder crow's nest, for a man to climb up -unobserved, and that you would be glad if you could summon -the courage to scale it to the scorn of this circumcized mob," -said the pilgrim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vitelozzo laughed scornfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the fear of it? I have clambered up many a strong -wall with only my dagger's aid, when boiling lead poured down -among us like melting snow and the devil himself would have -kept his foot from the ladder. But," he concluded as if -remembering that it behooved not his own dignity to continue -parley with the pilgrim, "who are you, that you dare bandy -words with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pilgrim considered it neither opportune nor discreet to -introduce himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My staff against your cross-bow," he replied boastfully -instead. "You dare not attempt it and I will succeed in it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the foul fiend! Not until I have failed," replied -Vitelozzo, colouring. "Hold my cross-bow while I climb. But -if you mean mischief or deceit, know better than to practise -it, for I am not what I seem, but a great lord, who would as -soon crack your empty pate as an egg!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pseudo-pilgrim replied apparently with some warmth, -but as the preacher's tone now rose above the surrounding -buzz only the conclusion of his speech was audible, wherein -he declared that he would restore the noble's cross-bow or -rouse his friends to his assistance in the event of danger. -This compact concluded Eckhardt noted that the Roman -baron gave his helmet, cross-bow and other accoutrements, -which were likely to prove an impediment, into the care of -the pilgrim, and prepared to accomplish his insolent purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The disguised pilgrim, whose identity Eckhardt had vainly -endeavoured to establish, now retired instantly and rejoined -his companions, who had been eagerly listening in their -concealment under the doorway. The newcomer, who had for -a time swelled their number, had retreated unobserved after -having concluded his observations, as it seemed, to his -satisfaction, for Eckhardt saw him nod to himself ere he vanished -from sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here then is a weapon, Don Giovan, if you would not -rather have the point in your own skull," the pilgrim said, -handing the bravo a small bow of peculiar construction which -Vitelozzo was wont to carry on his fowling expeditions, as he -styled his nightly excursions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Moreover," the pilgrim continued encouragingly, noting -the manifest reluctance on the part of the bravo, "I have -caused you a pretty diversion. When the tumult, which this -villain will raise, shall begin, you have but to adjust the arrow -and watch the monk's associate. When he raises his hand—let fly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John of the Catacombs shivered, but did not reply, while -Eckhardt scrutinized the monk indicated by the pilgrim, -as well as the glare of the torches and their delusive light -would permit. But his face being averted, he again turned -his attention to the trio in the shadows below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pontifical delegate meanwhile continued his sermon as -unconcerned as if his deadliest enemy did not stand close beside -him ready to imprint on his brow the pernicious kiss of Judas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fear you aught for your foul carcass and the thing you -call your soul?" the pilgrim snarled, seemingly exasperated -by the reluctance of the instrument to obey the master's behest. -"Fear you for your salvation, when so black a wretch as -Vitelozzo—for I know the ruffian, who slew his benefactor,—hazards -both for a fool's frolic? The monk is a fair mark! -Look but at him perched in the pulpit yonder, with his arms -spread out as if he would fly straightway to heaven!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He looks like a black crucifixion," muttered the bravo -with a shudder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tush, fool! You can easily conceal yourself in these -shadows, for the blame will fall on the Jews and the uproar -which I will raise at different extremities of the crowd will -divert all attention from the perpetrator of the deed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John of the Catacombs seemed to yield gradually to the -force of the other's arguments. The deed accomplished, it had -been agreed that they would dive into the very midst of the -congested throngs and urge the inflamed minds to the -extermination of the hated race of the Ghetto.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's consternation upon listening to this devilish -plot was so great, that for a time he lost sight of the -would-be assailant of the young girl, whom he was unable to see -from his concealment almost directly beneath the balcony. -Again he was staggered by the dilemma confronting him, -how best to direct his energies for the prevention of the double -crime. To rush forth and, giving a signal to the pontifical -guards, to proclaim the intended treachery, would perhaps in -any other country, age or place have been sufficient to counteract -the plot. But in this case it was most likely to secure the -triumph of the offenders. It was far from improbable, that -the projectors of this deed of darkness, upon finding their -sinister designs baffled, would fall combined upon whosoever -dared to cross their path, and silence him for ever ere he had -time to reveal their real purpose. In the rancorous irritation -and mutually suspicious state of men's minds the least spark -might kindle a universal blaze. The fears and hatred of both -parties would probably interpret the first flash of steel into a -signal for preconcerted massacre and the very consequences -sought to be averted would inevitably follow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A further circumstance which baffled Eckhardt was the -cause of the implacable hatred, which the moving spirit of the -trio seemed to bear the pontifical delegate. But the sagacious -intellect of the man into whose hands fate had so opportunely -placed a lever for preventing a crime, whose consequences it -was difficult to even surmise, suggested these dangers and -their remedies almost simultaneously. Thus he patiently -awaited the separation of the colleagues on their several -enterprises, regarding the monk with renewed interest in this new -and appalling light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His tall and commanding form was to be seen from every -point. The austerity and gloom of the speaker's countenance -only seemed to aid in displaying more brilliantly the -irradiations of the mind which illumined it. His harangue seemed -imbued with something of supernatural inspiration and dark -as had appeared to Eckhardt the motive for the contemplated -crime, the probable reason suddenly flashed through his -mind. For in the pulpit stood Gerbert of Aurillac, Archbishop -of Rheims, Bishop of Ravenna, the teacher of the Emperor, -the friend of the Pontiff, he who was so soon as Sylvester II -to be crowned with the Triple Tiara of St. Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was no time for musing if the double crime was -to be prevented. For John of the Catacombs, who had now -turned his back on the crowds, had possessed himself of -Vitelozzo's cross-bow and was tightening the bow-strings. -With equal caution, to avoid betraying his presence, Eckhardt -unsheathed his sword. But the jar of the blade against the -scabbard, though ever so slight, startled the outlaw's -attention. He paused for a moment, listening and glancing -furtively about. Then he muttered to himself: "A rat," and -resumed his occupation, while Eckhardt slowly stepped from -his concealment, taking his station directly behind the kneeling -bravo, unseen by the pilgrim and the latter's silent companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A brilliant glow, emanating from some mysterious source -near the monk and which many afterwards contended as -having proceeded directly from his person, suddenly illumined -not only the square, the pontifical delegate, and the monk, -who held his arms aloft as if imploring a benediction, but -likewise the towering form of Eckhardt, leaning on his bare and -glittering brand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a yell as if he had seen a wild beast crouching for its -deadly spring, John of the Catacombs sprang up, only to be -instantly struck down by a mighty blow from the commander's -gauntleted hand. He lay senseless on the ground, covered -with blood. The bow had fallen from his grasp. Setting his -foot on the outlaw's breast, Eckhardt hesitated for a moment -whether to rid Rome of so monstrous a villain, or spare him, -in order to learn the real instigators of the crime, when a -piercing shriek from above convinced him that while the bravo -had failed, the high-born ruffian had been more successful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no time for parley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Trampling with his crushing weight over the bravo's breast -Eckhardt turned towards the spot whence the cry of distress -had come. An intense hush fraught with doubts and fears -had fallen upon the monk's audience at the ominous outcry,—a -cry which might have been but the signal for some -preconcerted outrage, and the hush deepened when the tall -powerful form of the German leader was seen stalking toward -the deserted house and entering it through a door, which Gian -Vitelozzo had forced, the obstacle which had luckily prevented -him from reaching before his unsuspecting victim. The ruffian -could be seen from below, holding in his arms on the balcony -the shrieking and struggling girl, disregarding in his brutal -eagerness all that passed below. Suddenly his shoulder was -grasped as in the teeth of a lion, and so powerful was the -pressure that the noble's arms were benumbed and dropped -powerlessly by his side. Before he recovered from his surprise -and could make one single effort at resistance, Eckhardt had -seized him round the waist and hurled him down on the square -amidst a roaring thunder of applause mingled with howls of -derision and rage. Those immediately beneath the balcony, -consisting chiefly of the scum and rabble, who cared little for -the monk's arguments, rejoiced at the prompt retribution -meted out to one of their oppressors, though the discomfiture -of the hapless victim had left them utterly indifferent. Why -should they carry their skin to market to right another's -wrong?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus they offered neither obstacle nor assistance when the -Roman baron, in no wise hurt by his fall, as the balcony was -at no great height from the ground, rose in a towering rage -and challenged his assailant to descend and to meet him -in mortal combat. But by this time the disturbance -had reached the monk's ears, and at once perceiving the -cause from his lofty point of vantage, Gerbert shouted -to his audience to secure the brawler in the name of -God and the Church. The mob obeyed, though swayed -by reluctance and doubts, while the pontifical guards -closed round the offending noble to cut off his escape. But -Gian Vitelozzo seemed to possess sovereign reasons for dreading -to find himself in the custody of the Vicar of the Church -and promptly took to flight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Overthrowing the first who opposed him, the rest offering -no serious resistance, he forced his way to one of the narrow -passages of the Ghetto, fled through it, relinquishing his -accoutrements and vanished in the shadows, which haunted -this dismal region by day and by night. But Gerbert of Aurillac -was not to be so easily baffled. He had recognized the Roman -baron despite his demeaning attire. With a voice of thunder -he ordered his entire following to the ruffian's pursuit, and -noting the direction in which Vitelozzo had disappeared, he -leaped, despite his advanced years, from his pulpit and waving -a cross high in the air, led the pursuit in person, which -inaugurated a general stampede of nobles, Jews, pilgrims, -monks and the ever-present rabble of Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This unforeseen incident having drawn off the crowd, which -had invaded the Ghetto, in the preacher's wake, the great -square was quickly deserted and the torches in the high -windows were extinguished as if a sudden wind-storm had snuffed -out their glowing radiance.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-sicilian-dancer"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE SICILIAN DANCER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-a.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>fter a fruitless search for the -hapless victim of the Roman -baron's licentiousness, in order -to restore her in safety to her -kindred or friends, Eckhardt -concluded at last that she had -found a haven of security and -turned his back upon the Ghetto -and its panic-stricken inmates -without bestowing another -thought upon an incident, in itself not uncommon and but -an evidence of the deep-rooted social disorder of the times. -His thoughts reverted rather to the attempt upon the life of -the pontifical delegate, which some happy chance had permitted -him to frustrate, but in vain did he try to fathom the -reasons prompting a deed, the accomplishment of which seemed -to hold out such meagre promise of reward to its perpetrators, -whose persons were enshrouded in a veil of mystery. Eckhardt -could only assign personal reasons to an attempt, which, -if successful, could not enrich the moving spirits of the plot, -a consideration always uppermost in men's minds, and pondering -thus over the strange events, the commander aimlessly -pursued his way in a direction opposite to the one the monk -and his following had chosen for the pursuit of the baron. -How long he had thus strolled onward, he knew not, when he -found himself in the space before the Capitol. The moon -gleamed pale as an alabaster lamp in the dark azure of the -heavens, trembling luminously on the waters of a fountain -which flowed from beneath the Capitoline rock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here some scattered groups of the populace sat or lolled on -the ground, discussing the events of the day, jesting, laughing -or love-making. Others paraded up and down, engaged in -conversation and enjoying the balmy night air, tinged with the -breath of departing summer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wearied with thought, Eckhardt made his way to the fountain, -and, seated on the margin regardless of the chattering -groups which continually clustered round it and dispersed, he -felt his spirits grow calm in the monotony of the gurgling flow -of the water, which was streaming down the rock and spurting -from several grotesque mouths of lions and dolphins. The -stars sparkled over the dark, towering cypresses, which -crowned the surrounding eminences, and the palaces and ruins -upon them stood forth in distinctness of splendour or -desolation against the luminous brightness of the moonlit sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's ruminations were interrupted by the sound of a -tambourine, and looking up from his reverie, he perceived that -the populace were gathering in a wide circle before the fountain, -attracted by the sound of the instrument. In the background, -kept thus remote by the vigilance of an old woman and two -half-savage Calabrians, who seemed to be the proprietors of -the show, stood a young woman in the garb of a Sicilian, -apparently just preparing to dance. She seemed to belong to -a class of damsels who were ordained under severe penalties -to go masked during all religious festivals, to protect the -pilgrims from the influence of their baleful charms. Else there -could be no reason why an itinerant female juggler or minstrel -who employed the talents, which the harmonious climate of -Italy lavishes on its poorest children, to enable them to earn -a scant living from the rude populace, should affect the modesty -or precaution of a mask. But her tall, voluptuous form as she -stood collecting her audience with the ringing chimes of her -tambourine, garbed as she was in that graceful Sicilian -costume, which still retains the elegance of its Greek original, -proved allurement enough despite her mask. While thus -unconsciously diverting his disturbed fancies, Eckhardt became -aware, that he had himself attracted the notice of the dancer, -for he encountered her gaze beaming on him from the depths -of her green-speckled mask, which its ordainer had intended -to represent the corruption of disease, but which the humour -of the populace had transmuted into a more pleasant -association, by calling them, "Cardinal melons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dancer started from her somewhat listless attitude into -one of gayety and animation, when she saw how earnestly -the dark stranger scrutinized her, and tripping across the -intervening space, she paused before him and said in a voice -whose music flowed to his heart in its mingled humility and -tenderness:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sainted Stranger! Will you disdain dancing the Tarantella -with a poor Sicilian sinner for the love of Santa Rosalia?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art like to make many for the love of thyself," -replied Eckhardt. "But it were little seemly to behold a -sinner in my weeds join in the dance with one in thine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke, he peered so intently into the masked visage -of the Sicilian dancer, that she precipitately retreated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay—then I must use my spells," she replied after a -moment's thought, and glancing round the circle, which was -constantly increasing, she added slowly, "my spells to raise -the dead, since love and passion are dead in your consecrated -breast! Mother—my mandolin!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The smile of her lips seemed to gleam even through her -mask as she threw her tambourine by its silver chain over her -shoulders, taking instead the instrument, which one of the -Calabrians handed to her. Tuning her mandolin she again -turned to Eckhardt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But first you must fairly answer a question, else I shall -not know which of my spells to use: for with some memory -alone avails,—with others hope."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And without waiting his reply, she began to sing in a voice -of indescribable sweetness. After the second stanza she paused, -apparently to await the reply to her question, while a murmur -of delight ran through the ranks of her listeners. The first -sound of her voice had fixed Eckhardt's attention, not alone -for its exquisite purity and sweetness, but the strange, -mysterious air which hovered round her, despite her demeaning -attire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet his reply partook of the asperity of his Northern forests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Deem you such gossamer subtleties were likely to find -anchorage in this restless breast, which, you hear, I strike and -it answers with the sound of steel?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, then so much the worse for you," replied the dancer. -"For where the pure spirit comes not,—the dark one will," -and she continued her song in a voice of still more mellow and -alluring sweetness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly she approached him again, her air more mysterious -than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" she whispered. "And I could teach you even a -sweeter lesson,—but you men will never learn it, as long as -women have been trying to teach it on earth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wherefore then wear you this mask?" questioned -Eckhardt with a severity in his tone, which seemed to -stagger the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To please one greater than myself," the dancer replied -with a mock bow, which produced a general outburst of -laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then,—what do you want with me? Why do you -shrink away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay,—if you will not dance with me, I must look for -another partner, for my mother grows impatient, as you may -see by the twirling of her girdle," replied the girl pettishly. -"I never cared who it was before,—and now simply because -I like you, you hate me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know it is the bite of the poison spider, for which the -Tarantella is the antidote," spoke Eckhardt sternly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without replying the girl began her dance anew, flitting -before her indifferent spectator in a maze of serpentine -movements, at once alluring and bewildering to the eye. And to -complete her mockery of his apathy, she continued to sing -even during all the vagaries of her dance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd looked on with constantly increasing delight -testifying its enthusiasm with occasional outbursts of joyful -acclamation. Showers of silver, even gold, which fell in the -circle, showed that the motley audience had not exhausted its -resources in pious contributions, and the coins were greedily -gathered in by the old woman and her comrades, while several -nobles who had joined the concourse whispered to the hag, -gave her rings and other rich pledges, all of which she accepted, -repaying the donors with the less substantial coin of promise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the relentless fair one concluded her mazy circles -by forming one with her nude arms over Eckhardt's head and -inclining herself towards him, she whispered a few words into -his ear. A lightning change seemed to come over the -commander's countenance, intensifying its pallor, and struck with -the impression she had produced, the Sicilian continued her -importunities, nodding towards the old hag in the background, -until Eckhardt half reluctantly, half wrathfully permitted -himself to be drawn towards the group, of which the old woman -formed the center. Pausing before her and whispering a few -words into her ear, which caused the hag to glance up with a -scowling leer, the girl took a small bronze mirror of oval -shape from beneath her tunic and after breathing upon the -surface, requested the old woman to proceed with the spell. -The two Calabrians hurriedly gathered some dried leaves, -which they stuffed under a tripod, that seemed to constitute -the entire stock-in-trade of the group. After placing thereon -a copper brazier, on which the old woman scattered some -spices, the latter commanded the girl to hold the mirror over -the fumes, which began to rise, after the two Calabrians had -set the leaves on fire. The flames, which greedily licked them -up, cast a strange illumination over the scene. The crowds -attracted by the uncommon spectacle pushed nearer and -nearer, while Eckhardt watched the process with an air of -ill-disguised impatience and annoyance leaning upon his huge -brand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old woman was mumbling some words in a strange -unintelligible jargon and the Calabrians were replenishing the -consumed leaves with a new supply they had gathered up, -when Eckhardt's strange companion drawing closer, whispered -to him:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now your wish! Think it—but do not speak!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt nodded, half indifferently, half irritated, when the -girl suddenly held the bronze mirror before his eyes and bade -him look. But no sooner had he obeyed her behest, than with -an outcry of amazement he darted forward and fairly captured -his unsuspecting tormentor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you?" he questioned breathlessly, "to read -men's thoughts and the silent wish of their heart?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in his eagerness he probably hurt the girl against the -iron scales, of whose jangling he had boasted, for she uttered -a cry and called in great terror: "Rescue—Rescue!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before the words were well uttered the two Calabrians -rushed towards them with drawn daggers. The mob also -raised a shout and seemed to meditate interference. This -uproar changed the nature of the dancer's alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In our Holy Mother's name—forbear—" she addressed -the two Calabrians, and the mob, and turning to her captor, -she muttered in a tone of almost abject entreaty:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Release me—noble stranger! Indeed I am not what I -seem, and to be recognized here would be my ruin. Nay—look -not so incredulous! I have but played this trick on you, -to learn if you indeed hated all woman-kind. You think me -beautiful,—ah! Could you but see my mistress! You would -surely forget these poor charms of mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And who is your mistress?" questioned Eckhardt persisting -in his endeavour to remove her mask, and still under -the spell of the strange and to him inexplicable vision in the -bronze mirror.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 67%" id="figure-129"> -<span id="persisting-in-his-endeavour-to-remove-her-mask"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Persisting in his endeavour to remove her mask." src="images/img-138.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Persisting in his endeavour to remove her mask.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mercy—mercy! You know it is a grievous offence to -be seen without my Cardinal melon," pleaded the girl with a -return of the wiling witchery in her tones and attempting, but -in vain, to release herself from Eckhardt's determined grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is your mistress?" insisted the Margrave. "And -who are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Release the wanton! How dare you, a soldier of the -church, break the commands of the Apostolic lieutenant?" -exclaimed a husky voice and a strong arm grasped Eckhardt's -shoulder. Turning round, the latter saw himself confronted -by the towering form of the monk Nilus, who seemed ignorant -of the person and rank of him he was addressing and whose -countenance flamed with fanatic wrath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay! And it hath come to my turn to rescue damsels, and -moreover to serve the church," added another speaker in a -bantering tone and Eckhardt instantly recognized the Lord -Vitelozzo, who having eluded the pursuit of the monk of -Cluny, held a mace he had secured in lieu of his cross-bow -high and menacingly in the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Friar, look to your ally, if such he be, lest I do what I -should have done before and make a very harmless rogue of -him," said Eckhardt, holding the girl with one hand while -with the other he unsheathed his sword.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peace, fool!" the monk addressed his would-be ally, -drawing him back forcibly. "The church needs not the aid -of one rogue to subdue another. Let the girl go, my son!" -he then turned to the Margrave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, father—by these bruises, which still ache, I will -retrieve my wrong and rescue the wench," insisted the Roman, -again raising his massive weapon, but the monk and some -bystanders wedged themselves between Eckhardt and his -opponent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, then, now we are like to have good sport," exclaimed -a fourth. "A monk, a woman and a soldier,—it requires -not more to set the world ablaze."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stranger,—I implore you, release me," whispered Eckhardt's -captive with frantic entreaty amidst the ever increasing -tumult of the bystanders, who appeared to be divided, some -favouring the monk, while others sided with the girl's captor, -whose intentions they sorely misconstrued. "I would not stand -revealed to yonder monk for all the world!" concluded the girl -in fear-struck tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment a cry among the bystanders warned Eckhardt -that Vitelozzo's wrath had at length mastered every effort to -restrain him, and, whirling round, to defend himself he was -compelled to release the girl. But instead of making the use -she might have been expected to do of her liberty, she called -to the monk, to part the combatants in the name of the saints.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it required no expostulation on the part of the friar, for -when Eckhardt turned fully upon him, Vitelozzo, for the first -time recognizing his antagonist, beat a precipitate retreat, -but at some distance he turned, shouting derisively:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An olive for a fig! Your dove has flown!" and when -Eckhardt, recovering from his surprise, wheeled about, he -found, much to his chagrin, the Roman's words confirmed by -the absence of the girl as well as of her associates, who managed -to make their escape at the moment when the impending -encounter had momentarily drawn off the attention of the crowd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The devil can speak truth, they say, though I believed it -not till now," muttered Eckhardt to himself as, vexed and -mystified beyond measure, he strode through the scattering -crowds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had it been some jeer of the fiend? Had he been made -the victim of some monstrous deceit?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Who was the Sicilian dancer, whose manners and golden -language belied her demeaning attire, whose strange eyes had -penetrated into the darkness of his soul, whose voice had -thrilled him with the echoes of one long silent and forever?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The magic mirror in which, as in a haze, he had seen the -one face he most longed to see,—the strange and sudden -fulfillment of the unspoken wish of his heart,—the dancer's -marked persistence in the face of his declared abhorrence,—her -mask and her incongruous companions,—her fear of the -monk and concern for himself,—all these incidents, which -one by one floated on the mirror of his memory, rose ever and -anon before his inner gaze—each time more mystifying and -bewildering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In deep rumination Eckhardt pursued his way, gazing -absently upon the roofless columns and shattered walls, -everywhere visible, over which the star-light shone—ghostly and -transparent, backed by the frowning and embattled fortresses -of the Cavalli, half hidden by the dark foliage that sprang -up amidst the very fanes and palaces of old. Now and then he -paused with a deep and heavy sigh, as he pondered over the -dark and desolate path upon which he was about to enter, -over the lack of a guiding hand in which he might trust, over -the uncertainty of the step, which, once taken was beyond -recall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly a light caught the solitary rambler's eye, a light -almost like a star, scarcely larger indeed, but more red and -intense in its ray. Of itself it was nothing uncommon and -might have shone from either convent or cottage. But it -streamed from a part of the Aventine, which contained no -habitations of the living, only deserted ruins and shattered -porticoes of which even the names and memories of their -former inhabitants had been long forgotten. Aware of this, -Eckhardt felt a slight awe, as the light threw its unsteady -beam over the dreary landscape; for he was by no means free -from the superstition of the age and it was near the hour -consecrated to witches and ghosts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But fear, whether of this world or the next, could not long -daunt the mind of the Margrave; and after a brief hesitation -he resolved to make a digression from his way, to discover the -cause of the phenomenon. Unconsciously Eckhardt's tread -passed over the site of the ill-famed temple of Isis which had at -one time witnessed those wildest of orgies commemorated by -the pen of Juvenal. At last he came to a dense and dark -copse from an opening in the center of which gleamed the -mysterious light. Penetrating the gloomy foliage Eckhardt -found himself before a large ruin, grey and roofless. Through -a rift in the wall, forming a kind of casement and about ten -feet from the ground, the light gleamed over the matted and -rank soil, embedded, as it were, in vast masses of shade. -Without knowing it, Eckhardt stood on the very spot once -consecrated to the cult of the Egyptian goddess, and now -shunned as an abode of evil spirits. The walls of the ruin -were covered with a dense growth of creepers, which entwined -even the crumbled portico to an extent that made it almost -impossible to penetrate into its intricate labyrinth of corridors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While indulging in a thousand speculations, occasioned by -the hour and the spot, Eckhardt suddenly perceived a shadow -in the portico. Only the head was visible in the moonlight, -which bathed the ruin, and it disappeared almost as quickly -as it had been revealed. While meditating upon the expediency -of exploring the mystery which confronted him, Eckhardt -was startled by the sound of footsteps. Straining his gaze -through the haze of the moonlight he beheld emerging from -the portico of the temple the tall form of a man, wrapt in a -long black cloak. He wore a conical hat with sloping brim -which entirely shadowed his face and on his right arm he -carried the apparently lifeless body of a girl. With the object -of preventing a probable crime Eckhardt stepped from his place -of concealment just as the stranger was about to pass him with -his mysterious burden and placed his hands arrestingly on the -other's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you? And what is your business here?" he -questioned curtly, attempting to remove the stranger's vizor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The one matters little to your business,—the other little -to mine," the tall individual replied enigmatically while he -dexterously resisted his questioner's effort to gain a glimpse -at his face. "But," he added in a strange oracular tone, -which moved Eckhardt despite himself, "if you value my -aid in your hour of trial—assist me now in my hour of need!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your aid?" echoed Eckhardt, staring amazed at his -companion. "Do you know me? In what can you assist me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are Eckhardt the Margrave," replied the stranger; -then inclining his head slightly towards him he whispered a -word, the effect of which seemed to paralyze his listener, for -his arresting hand fell and he retreated a step or two, surveying -him in speechless wonder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you?" he stammered at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stranger raised the long visor of his conical hat. An -exclamation of surprise came from Eckhardt's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hezilo, the harper!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other replied with a silent nod.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we have never met!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I seldom go out!" said the harper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What know you of Ginevra?" begged the Margrave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The harper shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is neither the time, nor the place. I must be gone—to -shelter my burden! We shall meet again! If you follow -me," he concluded, noting Eckhardt's persistence, "you will -learn nothing and only endanger my safety and that of this -child!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is she dead?" Eckhardt questioned with a shudder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would she were!" replied the stranger mournfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can I assist you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you! The burden is light. We will meet again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something in the harper's tone which arrested -Eckhardt's desire to ignore his injunction. How long he -remained on the site of the ill-famed ruin, the Margrave hardly -knew. When the fresh breeze of night, blowing from the -Campagna, roused him at last from his reverie the mysterious -stranger and his equally mysterious burden had disappeared -in the haze of the moonlit night. Like one walking in a -dream Eckhardt slowly retraced his steps to his palace on the -Caelian Mount, where an imperial order sanctioning his -purpose and relieving him of his command awaited him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="nilus-of-gaeta"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">NILUS OF GAËTA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-a.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span> grand high mass in honour of -the pilgrims was on the -following eve to be celebrated in the -ancient Basilica of St. Peter's. -But vast as was its extent, only -a part of the pilgrims could be -contained and the bronze gates -were thrown open to allow the -great multitude which filled the -square to share the benefits and -some of the glories of the ceremony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Vatican Basilica of the tenth century, far from possessing -its present splendour, was as yet but the old consecrated palace, -hallowed by memories of the olden time, in which Charlemagne -enjoyed the hospitality of Leo III, when at his hands -he received the imperial crown of the West. Similar to the -restored church of St. Paul fuori le Mure, as we now see it, it -was some twenty feet longer and considerably wider, having -five naves divided off by four rows of vast monolith columns. -There were ninety-six columns in all, of various marbles, -differing in size and style, for they had been the first hasty -spoils of antique palaces and temples. The walls above the -order of columns were decorated with mosaics such as no -Roman hand could then produce or even restore. A grand -arch, such as we see at the older Basilicas to-day, inlaid with -silver and adorned with mosaic, separated the nave from the -chancel, below which was the tribune, an inheritance from the -prætor's court of old. It now contained the high altar and the -sedile of the Vicar of Christ. Before the altar stood the -Confession, the vault wherein lay the bones of St. Peter, with a -screen of silver crowned with images of saints and virgins. -And the whole was illumined by a gigantic candelabrum holding -more than a thousand lighted tapers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chief attraction, however, was yet wanting, for the -pontiff and his court still tarried in the Vatican receiving the -homage of the foreign pilgrims. While listlessly noting the -preparations from his chosen point of vantage, Eckhardt -discovered himself the object of scrutiny on the part of a monk, -who had been listlessly wandering about and who disappeared -no sooner than he had caught the eye of the great leader.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unwilling to continue the target of observation on the part -of those who recognized him despite his closed visor, Eckhardt -entered the Basilica and took up his station near a remote -shrine, whence he could witness the entrance of the pontifical -procession, without attracting undue attention to his person. -When the pontifical train did appear, it seemed one mass of -glitter and sumptuous colour, as it filed down the aisles of the -Basilica. The rich copes of the ecclesiastics, stiff with gold -and gorgeous brocade, the jewelled mantles of the nobles, the -polished breast plates and tasselled spears of the guards passed -before his eyes in a bewildering confusion of splendour. In -his gilded chair, under a superb canopy, Gregory, the youthful -pontiff, was borne along, surrounded by a crowd of bishops, -extending his hands in benediction as he passed the kneeling -worshippers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An infinite array of officials followed. Then came pilgrims -of the highest rank, each order marching in separate divisions, -in the fantastic costumes of their respective countries. In -their wake marched different orders of monks and nuns, the -former carrying torches, the latter lighted tapers, although the -westering sun still flamed down the aisles in cataracts of -light. After these fraternities and sisterhoods, Crescentius, -the Senator, was seen to enter with his suite, conspicuous for -the pomp of their attire, the taste of Crescentius being to -sombre colours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Descending from his elevated station, Gregory proceeded to -officiate as High Priest in the august solemnity. Come with -what prejudices one might, it was not in humanity to resist -the impressions of overwhelming awe, produced by the -magnificence of the spectacle and the sublime recollections with -which the solemnity itself in every stage is associated. Despite -his extreme youth, Gregory supported all the venerableness -and dignity of the High Priest of Christendom and when at the -conclusion of the high mass he bestowed his benediction on all -Christendom, Eckhardt was kneeling with the immense multitude, -perhaps more convinced than the most enthusiastic -pilgrim, that he was receiving benediction direct from heaven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The paroxysm only subsided, when raising his head, he -beheld a gaunt monk in the funereal garb of the brotherhood -of Penitent Friars ascend the chancel. He was tall, lean as a -skeleton and from his shrivelled face two eyes, sunken deep -in their sockets, burnt with the fire of the fanatic. This was -the celebrated hermit, Nilus of Gaëta, of whose life and manners -the most wonderful tales were current. He was believed to -be of Greek extraction, perhaps owing to his lengthy residence -in Southern Italy, near the shrines of Monte Gargano in -Apulia. In the pursuit of recondite mysteries of the Moorish -and Cabalistical schools, he had attained such proficiency, -that he was seized with a profound disgust for the world and -became a monk. Several years he spent in remote and pagan -lands, spreading the tidings of salvation, until, as it was -whispered, he received an extraordinary call to the effect, as -was more mysteriously hinted, to turn the church from diverse -great errors, into which she had fallen, and which threatened -her downfall. Last, not least, he was to prepare the minds -of mortal men for the great catastrophe of the Millennium,—the -End of Time, the end of all earthly vanity. Special visions -had been vouchsafed him, and there was that in his age, in his -appearance and his speech which at once precluded the -imposter. Nilus of Gaëta himself believed what he preached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief silence, during which the Romans -acquainted their foreign guests in hurried whispers with the -name and renown of the reputed hermit. The latter stood -motionless in the chancel and seemed to offer up a silent -prayer, ere he pronounced his harangue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His sermon was delivered in Latin, still the common language -of Italy, even in its corrupt state, and its quality was such -as to impress at once the most skeptical with the extraordinary -gifts of the preacher.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk began with a truly terrific picture of the state -of society and religion throughout the Christian world, which -he delineated with such gloom and horror, that but for his -arabesque entanglement and his gorgeousness of imagery one -might have believed him a spirit of hell, returned to paint the -orb of the living with colours borrowed from its murkiest -depths. But with all the fantastic convolutions of his reasoning -the fervour of a real eloquence soon began to overflow the -twisted fountains, in which the scholastic rhetoric of the time -usually confined its displays. These qualities Nilus especially -exhibited when describing the pure dawn of Christianity, in -which the pagan gods had vanished like phantoms of night. -He declared that they were once more deified upon earth and -the clear light all but extinguished. And treating the antique -divinities as impersonations of human passions and lusts, the -monk's eloquence suddenly took the most terrible tints, and -considering the nature of some of the crimes which he thus -delineated and anathematized, his audience began to suspect -personal allusions of the most hideous nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After this singular exordium, the monk proceeded in his -harangue and it seemed as if his words, like the lava overflow -from a volcano, withered all that was green and flowery in -their path. The Universe in his desponding eloquence seemed -but a vast desolation. All the beautiful illusions which the -magic of passion conjures into the human soul died beneath -his touch, changing into the phantoms, which perhaps they are. -The vanity of hope, the shallowness of success, the bitterness -which mingles with the greatest glory, the ecstasy of love,—all -these the monk painted in the most powerful colours, to -contrast them with the marble calm of that drooping form -crucified upon the hill of Calvary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Spellbound, the immense multitude listened to the almost -superhuman eloquence of the friar. As yet his attacks had -dealt only in generalities. The Senator of Rome seemed to -listen to his words with a degree of satisfaction. A singularity -remarked in his character by all his historians, which, by -some, has been considered as proof of a nature not originally -evil, was his love of virtue in the abstract. Frequent -resolutions and recommendations to reform were perhaps only -overcome by his violent passions, his ambition and the exigencies -of his ambiguous state between church and empire. But as -the monk detailed the crimes and monstrosities of the age, -the calm on the Senator's face changed to a livid, satirical -smile, and occasionally he pointed the invectives of the friar -by nodding to those of his followers who were supposed to be -guilty of the crimes alleged, as if to call upon them to notice -that they were assailed, and many a noble shrank behind his -neighbour whose conscience smote him of one or all the crimes -enumerated by Nilus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In one of his most daring flights the monk suddenly checked -himself and announcing his vision of impending judgment, -he bid his listeners prepare their souls in a prophetic and -oracular tone, which was distinctly audible, amid all the -muttering which pervaded the Basilica.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few moments of devout silence followed. The monk was -expected to kneel, to offer up a prayer for divine mercy. But -he stood motionless in the chancel, and after waiting a short -time, Gregory turned to an attendant:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go and see what ails the disciple of Benedict,—we will -ourselves say the Gratias."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After rising, he stepped to the altar with the accustomed -retinue of cardinals and prelates and chanted the benediction. -At the conclusion Crescentius approached the altar alone, -demanded permission to make a duteous offering and emptied -a purse of gold on the salver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A most princely and regal benefaction," muttered the -Pontifical Datary—"a most illustrious example."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Charlemagne gave more, but so will I, when like him I -come to receive the crown of the West," muttered the Senator -of Rome. His example was immediately followed, and in a -few moments the altar was heaped round with presents of -extraordinary magnificence and bounty. Sacks of gold and -silver were emptied out, jewels, crucifixes, relics, amber, -gold-dust, ivories, pearls and rare spices were heaped up in -promiscuous profusion, and in return each donor received a branch -of consecrated palm from the hand of the Datary, whose keen -eyes reflected the brightness of the treasures whose receipts -he thus acknowledged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chant from various chapels now poured down the -aisles its torrents of melody, the vast multitudes joining in -the Gloria in Excelsis. Eckhardt's remote station had not -permitted him to witness all that had happened. His gaze was -still riveted on the friar, who was now staggering from the -pulpit, when a terrific event turned and absorbed his attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The great bell of the Basilica was tolling and the vibration -produced by so many sounds shook the vast and ancient pile -so violently that a prodigious mass of iron, which formed one -of the clappers of the bell, fell from the belfry in the airy -spire and dashing with irresistible force through every obstruction, -reached the floor at the very feet of the Pontiff, crushing -a deep hole in the pavement and throwing a million pieces of -shattered marble over him and his retinue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vast assembly was for a moment motionless with -terror and surprise, expecting little less than universal -destruction in the downfall of the whole edifice on their heads, -with all its ponderous mass of iron and stone. A cry arose that -the Pontiff had been killed, which was echoed in a thousand -varying voices, according as men's fears or hopes prevailed. -But in the first moment of panic, when it was doubtful whether -or not the entire center of the Basilica would crumble upon -the assembly, Eckhardt had rushed from the comparative -safety of his own station to the side of the Pontiff as if to -shield him, when with the majesty of a prophet interposing -between offended heaven and the object of its wrath, Gerbert -of Aurillac uttered with deep fervour and amid profound silence -a De Profundis. The multitudes were stilled from their panic, -which might have been attended with far more serious -consequences than the accident itself. There was a solemn pause, -broken only by a sea-like response of "Amen"—and a -universal sigh of relief, which sounded like the soughing of -the wind in a great forest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All distinctions of rank seemed blotted out in that supreme -moment. Then the voice of Nilus was heard thundering -above the breathless calm, while he held aloft an ebony -crucifix, in which he always carried the host:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The summits of St. Peter still stand! When they too fall, -pilgrims of the world—even so shall Christendom fall with -them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a sign from the Pontiff his attendants raised aloft the -canopy, under which he had entered. But he refused to -mount the chair and heading the bishops and cardinals, he -left the church on foot. The Datary gave one look of hopeless -despair, as the masses crowded out of the Basilica, and -abandoned all hope of restoring order. In an incredibly short -time the vast area was emptied, Crescentius being one of the -last to remain in its deepening shadows. With a degree of -vacancy he gazed after the vanishing crowds, more gorgeous -in their broken and mingled pomp, as they passed out of the -high portals, than when marshalled in due rank and order.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He too was about to leave, when he discerned a monk who -stood gazing, as it were, incredulously at the shattered -altar-pavement and the mass of iron deeply embedded in it. Hastily -he advanced towards him, but as he approached he was struck -by observing the monk raise his eyes, sparkling with mad -fury, to the lighted dome above and clench his hands as if in -defiance of its glory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou seemest to hold thy life rather as a burden than a -blessing, monk, since thus thou repayest thy salvation," -Crescentius addressed the friar, somewhat staggered by his -attitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay! If I have done Heaven a temporal injury,—be -comforted, ye saints—for ye have wrought me an eternal -one!" growled the monk between clenched teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heaven?" questioned Crescentius, almost tempted to the -conclusion that the monk, whoever he was, was out of his -senses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Even Heaven," replied the monk. "One cubit nearer the -altar,—I thought the struggle over in my soul between the -dark angel and the bright—I had strung my soul to its mighty -task,—yet I shrank from it, a second, and more cowardly -Judas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius gazed at the friar without grasping his meaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take thy superior out of the church, he is mad and -blasphemes," he turned to the monk's companion who listened -stolidly to his raving.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay!" spoke the strange monk, gnashing his teeth and -shaking his fist towards heaven, "even the church shall -anon be rent in twain and form a chasm, down which countless -generations shall tumble into the abyss—'twere just -retribution!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me but this, monk, how could Heaven itself throw -obstacles in the way of thine intent?" questioned Crescentius, -perceiving that the monk had turned to depart and more -convinced than ever that he was speaking to a madman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How? How? Oh, thou slow of understanding,—how?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the monk pointed downward, to the crushed and -shattered marble of the pavement, in which the iron clapper -of the bell lay embedded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius receded involuntarily before the fierce, insane -gleam in the monk's eyes, while the terrible import of his -speech suddenly flashed upon his understanding. Crossing -himself, he left the strange friar to himself and passed swiftly -through the motley crowds which were waiting their turn of -admission to the subterranean chapel of the Grand -Penitentiarius.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another had remained in the dense gloom of the Basilica, -though he had not witnessed the scene which had just come -to a close. After the Pontiff's departure, Eckhardt had retired -to the shrine of Saint Michael, where he knelt in silent prayer. -His mind was filled with fantastic imaginings, inspired chiefly -by his recent pilgrimage to the shrines of Monte Gargano. -The deep void within him made itself doubly felt in this hour -and more than ever he felt the need of divine interposition in -order to retain that consciousness of purpose which was to -guide his future course.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he arose. A remote chant fell upon his ears, and he -saw a procession moving slowly from the refectory into the -nave of the Basilica. By the dusky glare of the torches, which -they carried, Eckhardt distinguished a number of penitent -friars, bearing aloft the banner, destined in after-generations -to become the standard of the Holy Inquisition, a Red Cross in -a black field with the motto: "In Hoc Signo Vinces." Among -them and seemingly the chief personage, strode the strange -friar. With down-cast head and eyes he walked, eyes which, -while they seemed fixed on the ground in self-abasement, -stealthily scanned the features of those he passed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I marvel the holy saints think it worth while to trouble -themselves about the soul of every putrid, garlic-chewing -knave," said an old beggar on the steps of the Cathedral to an -individual with whose brief review Eckhardt was much struck. -He was a man past the middle-age, with the sallow complexion -peculiar to the peasants of the marshes. His broad hat, -garnished with many coloured ribbons, was drawn over his -visage, though not sufficiently so, to conceal the ghastly scars, -with which it was disfigured. His lurking, suspicious eye and -the peculiar manner with which, from habit, he carried his -short cloak drawn over his breast, as if to conceal the naked -stiletto, convinced Eckhardt that, whatsoever that worthy -might assume to be, he was one of those blackest of the scourges -of Italy, which the license of the times had rendered fearfully -numerous, the banditti and bravi.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whether the saints care or no," that individual returned, -"the monk is competent to convert the fiend himself. What -an honour for the brotherhood to have produced such a saint."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarcely bestowing more than a thought upon so usual an -evidence of social disorder, which neither pontifical nor -imperial edicts had been able to correct, Eckhardt passed out, -without noticing that he had himself attracted at least equal -attention from the worthy described, who after having satisfied -his curiosity, slunk back among the crowds and was -lost to sight.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="red-falernian"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">RED FALERNIAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he palace of Theodora resounded -with merriment, -though it was long past midnight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Round a long oval table in -the great hall sat a score or -more of belated revellers, their -Patrician garbs in disorder, and -soiled with wine, their faces -inflamed, their eyes red and -fiery, their tongues heavy and beyond the bounds of control. -Here and there a vacant or overturned chair showed where a -guest had fallen in the debauch, and had been permitted to -remain on his self-chosen bed of repose. A band of players -hidden in a remote gallery still continued to fill up the pauses -in the riotous clamour with their barbaric strains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the head of the table, first in place as in rank sat Benilo, -the Chamberlain. He seemed to take little interest in the -conversation, for, resting his head on his hands, he stared -into his untouched goblet, as if he endeavoured to cast some -augury from the rising and vanishing bubbles of the wine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next to him sat Pandulph, Lord of Spoleto and Beneventum. -His low, though well-set figure, dark hair, keen, black eyes -and swarthy features bespoke his semi-barbaric extraction. -His countenance was far from comely, when in repose, even -ugly and repulsive, but in his eyes lay the force of a powerful -will and a depth and subtlety of intellect, that made men fear, -when they could not love him. On the right of the Count sat -the Lord of Civitella, a large, sensual man, with twinkling -grey eyes, thick nose and full red lips. His broad face, flushed -with wine, glowed like the harvest moon rising above the -horizon. Opposite him sat the Patricius Ziazo, crafty and -unscrupulous, a parasite who flattered whosoever ministered -to his pleasure. The Patricius was conversing with an individual -who outshone Pandulph in rapine, the Lord of Civitella in -coarseness and himself in sycophancy, Guido of Vanossa, an -arrogant libertine, whose pinched features and cunning leer -formed the true index to his character. The Lords of Sinigaglia, -Torre del Grecco, Bracciano, Cavallo and Caetano swelled the -roll of infamy on the boards of Theodora,—worthy predecessors -of the Orsini and Savelli, who were to oppress the city -in after time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Among those who had marked the beginning of the evening -by more than ordinary gaiety, Benilo had by his splendid -dissipation excited the general envy and admiration among -his fellow revellers. His face was inflamed, his dark eyes -were glittering with the adder tongues of the serpent wine, -and his countenance showed traces of unlimited debauchery. -It seemed to those present, as if the ghost of the girl Nelida, -whom he had killed in this very hall, was haunting him, so -madly did he respond to the challenges from all around, to -drink. But as the wine began to flood every brain, as the hall -presented a scene of riotous debauch, his former reckless mood -seemed for the nonce to have changed to its very opposite. -Through the fumes of wine the dead girl seemed to regard him -with sad, mournful eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fill the goblets," cried Pandulph, with a loud and still -clear voice. "The lying clock says it is day. But neither -cock-crows nor clock change the purple night to dawn in the -Groves of Theodora, save at the will of the Goddess herself. -Fill up, companions! The lamp-light in the wine cup is -brighter than the clearest sun that ever shone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well spoken, Pandulph! Name the toast and we will -pledge it, till the seven stars count fourteen and the seven -hills but one," said the Cavallo looking up. "I see four hour -glasses even now and every one of them lies, if it says it is -dawn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shall have my toast," said Pandulph, raising his -goblet. "We have drunk it twenty times already, but we will -drink it twenty times more:—the best prologue to wine -ever devised by wit of man—Woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shadow moved in the dusky background and peered unseen -into the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the best epilogue," replied the Lord of Civitella, -visibly drunk. "But the toast—my cup is waiting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the health—wealth—and love by stealth of Theodora!" -yelled Pandulph, gulping down the contents of his -goblet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo's face turned ashen pale, but he smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Theodora!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every tongue repeated the name, the goblets were drained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My Lord, it is your turn now," said Pandulph, turning to -the Lord of Civitella. "The good folks of Urbino have not yet -rung the fire-bells against you, but some say they soon will. -Who shall it be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Lord of Civitella filled up his cup with unsteady hand, -until it was running over and propping his body against the -table as he stood up, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A toast to Roxané! And as for my foragers—they sweep -clean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The toast was drunk with rapturous applause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right you are," bellowed the Cavallo. "Better brooms -were never made on the Posilippo,—not a straw lies in -your way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you accomplish it without fight?" sneered the Lord -of Bracciano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fight? Why fight? The burghers never resist a noble! -We conjure the devil down with that. When we skin our -eels, we don't begin at the tail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better to steal the honey, than to kill the bees that make it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what became of the women and children after this -swoop of your foragers?" asked the Lord of Bracciano, who -appeared to entertain some few isolated ideas of honour -floating on the top of the wine he had gulped down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The women and children?" replied the Lord of Civitella -with a mocking air, crossing his thumbs, like the peasants of -Lugano, when they wish to inspire belief in their words. -"They can breakfast by gaping! They can eat wind, like the -Tarentines,—it will make them spit clear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Lord of Bracciano, irritated at the mocking sign and -proverbial allusion to the gaping propensities of the people -round the Lago, started up in wrath and struck his clenched -fist on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My Lord of Civitella," he cried, "do not cross your damned -thumbs at me, else I will cut them off! The people of -Bracciano have still corn in plenty, until your thieving bands -scorch their fingers in the attempt to steal it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Andrea Cavallo interposed to stop the rising quarrel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not mind the Lord of Civitella," he whispered to -Bracciano. "He is drunk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The rake! The ingrate!" growled Bracciano, "after -my men opened the traps, in which the Vicar of the Church -had caught him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay! If you gape at man's ingratitude, your mouth will -be wide enough, ere you die, my lord," spoke Pandulph with -a sardonic laugh. "And men in our day stand no more on -precedence in plots than in love affairs,—do they, my lord -Benilo?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, I'll dispute no man's right to be hanged or quartered -before me—least of all yours, my Lord Pandulph," the -Chamberlain replied venomously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord Benilo," replied Pandulph, "you are, when -drunk, the greatest ruffian in Christendom, and the biggest -knave when sober. Bring in more tankards, and we will not -look for day till midnight booms again on the old tower of San -Sebastian! I call for full brimmers, varlets,—bring your -largest cups! We will drink another toast five fathoms deep -in wine, strong enough to melt Cleopatra's pearls, and to a -jollier dame than Egypt's queen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The servitors flew out and in. In a few moments the table -was replenished with huge drinking cups, silver flagons and -all the heavy impediments of the army of Bacchus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We drink to the Fair Lady of the Groves,—and in her -presence, too!" shouted the Lord of Spoleto, raising his -goblet anew. "Why is she not among us? They say," he -turned to Benilo with a sneer, "that you are so jealous of the -charms of your bird of paradise, that you have forbidden her to -appear before your friends."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roaring peals of laughter crowned Pandulph's speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo saw the absurdity of anger, but he felt it nevertheless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She chooses not to leave her bower even to look on you, my -Lord Pandulph. I warrant you, she has not slept all night, -listening to your infernal din."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A renewed outburst of mirth was the response.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you will permit us to betake ourselves forthwith -to her gilded chamber to implore pardon on our knees for -disturbing her rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well spoken—by the boot of St. Benedict!" roared -Guido of Vanossa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may measure my foot and satisfy yourself that I am -able to wear it," shouted the Lord of Civitella. "On our knees -we will crawl to the Sanctuary of our Goddess,—on our knees!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But before we start on our pilgrimage, we will drain a -draught long as the bell-rope of the Capitol," bellowed the Lord -of Bracciano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fill up the tankards!" exclaimed the Lord of Spoleto. -"My goblet is as empty as an honest man's purse,—and one -of my eyes is sober yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not take it to heart!" spoke Guido of Vanossa, whose -eyes were full of tears and wine. "You will not die in the -jolly fellow's faith!" And with unsteady voice he began to -sing a stanza in dog-Latin:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Dum Vinum potamus</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Fratelli cantiamo</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A Bacco sia Onore!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Te Deum laudamus!"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Would your grace had a better voice, you have a good -will!" stammered the lord of Sinigaglia. "'Tis ample time -to repent when you can do no better. Besides—if you are -damned, it is in rare good company!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay! Saint and Sinner come to the same end!" gurgled -the Lord Pandulph, ogling the purple Falernian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fill up your goblets! Though it be a merry life to lead, -I doubt if it will end in so cheery a death!" said Benilo, his eye -wandering slowly from one to the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fill up the goblets!" shouted the Lord of Spoleto, rising -and supporting his bulky carcass on the heavy oaken table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a sleepy leer he blinked at the guests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down on your knees," he roared suddenly, his former -intent reverting to him. "To the Sanctuary of the Goddess! -On our knees we will implore her to receive us into her favour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange spirit of recklessness had seized Benilo. Instead -of resenting or resisting the proposition, he was the first to get -down on all fours. His example had an electrifying effect. -Although they swayed to and fro like sail-boats on angry -sea-waves, all those still sober enough imitated the Chamberlain -amid cheers and grunts, and slowly the singular procession, -led by Benilo, set in motion with the expressed purpose of -invading Theodora's apartments, which were situated beyond -the great hall. The Lord Pandulph resembled some huge -bear as on all fours he hobbled across the mosaic floor beside -the Lord of Bracciano, who panted, grunted and swore and -called on the saints, to witness his self-abasement. Being -gouty and stout, he was at one time seized with a cramp in his -leg and struck out vigorously with the result of striking the -Lord of Civitella squarely in the jaw, whereupon the latter, -toppling over, literally flooded the hall with profanity and -surplus wine. The other ten hobbled behind the leaders, -cursing their own folly, but enjoying to a degree the novelty -of the pageant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus they had traversed the great hall at a speed as great -as their singular mode of locomotion and their intoxicated -condition would permit. The background of the hall was but -dimly lighted; the great curtain strung between the two -massive pillars, which guarded the entrance into Theodora's -apartments, excluded the glow of the multi-coloured lamps, -strung in regular intervals in the corridor beyond.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo was the first to reach the curtain. Resting one -hand on the floor, he raised the other, after the manner of a -dog, trying to push its folds aside, when they suddenly and -noiselessly parted. Something hissed through the air, striking -the object of its aim a stinging blow in the face—a cry of -pain and rage, and Benilo, who had sprung to his feet, stood -face to face with Theodora. At the same moment the lights -in the great hall were turned on to a full blaze, revealing in -its entire repelling atrocity the spectacle of the drunken -revellers, who, upon experiencing a sudden check to their -further progress, had come to a sluggish halt, some of them -unable to retain their balance and toppling over in their tracks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beasts! Swine!" hissed the woman, her eyes ablaze with -wrath, the whip which had struck Benilo in the face, still -quivering in her infuriated grasp. "Out with you—out!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sound of a silver whistle, which she placed between her -lips, brought some five or six giant Africans to the spot. They -were eunuchs, whose tongues had been torn out, and who, -possessing no human weakness, were ferocious as the wild -beasts of their native desert. Theodora gave them a brief -command in their own tongue and ere the amazed revellers knew -what was happening to them, they found themselves picked -up by dusky, muscular arms and unceremoniously ejected from -the hall, those lying in a semi-conscious stupor under the -tables sharing the same fate.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="dead-leaves"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">DEAD LEAVES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="W" src="images/img-cap-w.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>hile the Nubians set about in -cleaning the hall and removing -the last vestiges of the night's -debauch, Theodora faced Benilo -with such contempt in her dark -eyes, that for a moment the -Chamberlain's boasted insolence -almost deserted him, and though -seething with rage at the -chastisement inflicted upon him he -awaited her speech in silence. She faced him, leaning against -a marble statue, her hands playing nervously with the whip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For once I have discovered you in your true station, the -station of the foul, crouching beast, to which you were born, -had not some accident played into the devil's hands by giving -you the glittering semblance of the snake," she said slowly and -with a disdain ringing from her words, which cut even his -debased nature to the core. "I have whipped you, as one whips -a cur: do you still desire me for your wife?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With lips tightly compressed he looked down, not daring to -meet her fierce gaze of hatred, which was burning into his very -brain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see little reason for changing my mind," he replied after -a brief pause, while as he spoke his cheek seemed to burn -with shame, where the whip had struck it, and her evil, terrible -beauty, exposed in her airy night-robe, roused all the wild -demoniacal passions in his soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The whip trembled in her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you call yourself a man!" she said with a withering -look of contempt, under which he winced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she continued in a hard and cheerless voice, wherein -spoke more than simple aversion, a voice that seemed as it -were petrified with grief, with remorse and hatred of the man -who had been the cause of her fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen to me, Benilo,—mark well my words. What I -have been, you know: the beloved, the adored wife of a man, -who would have carried me through life's storms under the -shelter of his love,—a man, who would have shed the last -drop of his life's blood for Ginevra,—that was. For two -years we lived in happiness. I had begged him never to lift -the veil which shrouded my birth,—a wish he respected, a -promise he kept. In the field and at court he pursued the -even tenor of his way,—happy and content with my love. -Then there crept into our home a hypocrite, a liar, a fiend, -who could mock the devils in hell to scorn. He stands -there,—Benilo, his name,—a foul thing, who shrank from nothing -to gain his ends. Some fiend revealed to him the awful secret -of Ginevra's birth, a secret which he used to draw her step -by step from the man she loved, to perpetrate a deceit, the -cunning of which would put the devils to blush. He promised -to restore to her what is her own by right of her birth. He -roused in her all the evil which ran riot in her blood, and when -she had given herself to him, he revealed himself the lying fiend -he was. Stung by the furies of remorse, which haunted her -night and day,—in her despair the woman made her love the -prize, wherewith to purchase that for which she had broken -the holiest ties. But those she made happy were beasts,—enjoying -her favour, giving nothing in return. My heart is -sick of it,—sick of this sham, sick of this baseness. Heaven -once vouchsafed me a sinner's glimpse of paradise, of a home -of purity and peace where indeed I might have been a -queen,—a queen so different from the one who rules a gilded -charnel-house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo had listened in silent amazement. He failed to -sound the drift of Theodora's speech. The whip-lash burned -on his cheek. Her sudden dejection gave him back some of -his former courage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe Theodora is discovering that she once possessed -a conscience," he said with a sardonic smile. "How does the -violent change agree with you?" he drawled insolently, for -the first time raising his eyes to hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She appeared not to heed the question, but nodding wearily -she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not myself to-night. Despite all which has happened, -I stand here a suppliant before the man who has ruined my -life. I have something else to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I fear you have played your game and lost," he said -brutally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodore interrupted his speech with a gesture, and when she -spoke, a shade of sadness touched her halting tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Last night he came to me in my dream.—I will never -forget the expression with which he regarded me. I am weary -of it all,—weary unto death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unfortunately our wager does not concern itself with -sleep-walking—though it seems your only chance of luring -your over-scrupulous mate to your bower."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely, you do not mean to hold me to the wager?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled sardonically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Considering the risk I run in this affair—why -not? Eckhardt is a man of action—so is Benilo,—who -has performed the rare miracle of compelling the grave -to return to his arms Ginevra, a queen indeed,—of her -kind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Surely some extraordinary change had taken place in the -bosom of the woman before him. She received the thrust -without parrying it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see," he continued after a brief pause, "Eckhardt proves -too mighty a rock, even for Theodora to move!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His will is strong—but all night in his lonely cell he -called Ginevra's name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are well informed. Why not take the veil yourself,—since -a life of serene placidity seems so suddenly to -your taste?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where is it written that I shall not?" she questioned, -looking him full in the eye. Benilo winced. If she would -but quarrel. He felt insecure in her present mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here—on the tablets of my memory, where a certain -wager is recorded," he replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned upon him angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is you who forced me to it against my will.—I took -up your gauntlet, stung by your biting ridicule, goaded by -your insults to a weak and senseless folly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you acknowledge yourself vanquished?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not vanquished. What I undertake, I carry through—if -I wish to carry it through."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has to my mind ceased to be a matter of choice with -you," drawled the Chamberlain. "In three days Eckhardt's -fate will be sealed,—as far as this world of ours is concerned. -You see, your chances are small and you have no time to lose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Day after to-morrow—holy Virgin—so soon?" gasped -Theodora.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have inadvertently called on one whose calls you -have not of late returned," sneered the Chamberlain, with -insolent nonchalance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Day after to-morrow," Theodora repeated, stroking her -brow with one white hand. "Day after to-morrow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not despair," Benilo drawled sardonically. "Much -can happen in two days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not seem to hear him. Her thoughts seemed to -roam far away. Then they returned to earth. For a moment -she studied the man before her in silence, then dropping the -whip, she stretched out her hand to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Release me from this wager," she pleaded, "and all -shall be forgotten and forgiven."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not touch the hand. It fell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Theodora," he whispered hoarsely. "You will never -know how I love you! I am not as evil as I seem. But -there are moments when I lose control and madness chokes -my better self, in the hopeless hunt for your love. -Theodora—bury the past! Give up this baleful existence—live with me -again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed a shrill laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your concubine! And you have the courage to ask this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know I love the very ground you tread on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that all you have to tell me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is not that enough?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—it is not enough!" she replied with flashing eyes. -"Between us stand the barriers of eternity!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not dismiss me like this. It is far more cruel than you -know. If you kill my hope, you leave me a prey to the devils -of jealousy and madness,—the evil things of your own -creation! Come back to me! I only ask the love you gave -me once,—the love you thought you gave me,—a grain, a -crumb."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned her face away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never again! Never again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fevered blood raced swiftly from his cheek. For a -moment he watched her in silence, his eyes like slits in his -hard, pale face, then he turned on his heel and laughed aloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shudder she could not repress crept over the woman's -soft, white skin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Benilo!" she called to him. He turned and came slowly back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Benilo," she continued nervously, "release me from this -wager! I cannot go on—I cannot. If he is bent upon leaving -the world, let him retire in peace and do not stir the misery -which lies couchant in the hidden depths of his soul. He has -suffered enough,—more than enough,—more than should -fall to one man's lot. Do not drive me to madness,—I -cannot do it—I cannot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your thoughts are only for him. For me you have -nothing," he replied fiercely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I owe him everything—nothing to you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then go to him, to release you,—I will not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot do it! Be merciful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Chamberlain bowed and answered mockingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It rests with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Acknowledge your defeat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" she asked with rising fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We made a wager—the loser pays."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the forfeit?" she cried in terror. "You would not -claim—you would not chain me to you for ever?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He regarded her with a slow triumphant smile and answered -cruelly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forever? At one time the thought had less terrors for you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She disregarded his sarcasm, continuing in the same plaintive -tone of entreaty, which was music in Benilo's ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely—you do not mean it! You would not profit -by a woman's angry folly. I was mad,—insane,—I knew -not what I said, what I did! Benilo, I will admit -defeat,—failure,—anything,—only release me from this fearful -wager. I ask you as a man,—have pity on me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What pity have you lavished on me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were you deserving of pity?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My love—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your love! What is your love, but the lust of the wild -beast?" she exclaimed, flying into a passion, but instantly -checking herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think of it, Benilo," she urged in desperation, "I could -conquer, if I would. Once Eckhardt lays eyes on me, I can -lead him to my will. Never can I forget the look he gave me -when I faced him before my own tomb in the churchyard of -San Pancrazio. Never will that wild expression of despair and -longing, which spoke to me from his mute eyes, fade from -my memory. Whether he believed that I was a pale, mocking -phantom—what he imagined that I was, I know not—I -could win him, if I would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then win him!" snarled Benilo, through his straight -thin lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! No!" she cried piteously. "Eckhardt is noble. -He believed in me,—he trusted me. He believes me dead. -He has no inkling of the vile thing I am! I listened to his -prayer to the Virgin—once more he asked to see the face of -the woman he had loved above everything on earth. And you -ask me to tear the veil from his eyes and drag him down into -the sloth and slime of my existence! His faith falls upon me -like a knotted scourge,—his love—a blow upon my guilty -head. He gave me life-long love in payment for a lie; he gave -me love unwavering and true beyond the grave. When I -think of it all—I long to die of shame! You caused me to -believe he was dead,—that he had fallen defending the Eastern -March. I thanked Heaven for the message; I envied him his -eternal rest. It was one of your black deceits,—perhaps one -of your mildest. Let it pass! But again to enter into his -life—No! no!" she moaned. "By the God of Love—I will not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave a wild moan and covered her face with her hands. -Benilo looked on in silence, scarce crediting the proof of -sight and sound. Once—twice he moved his lips, ere speech -would flow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have but to choose," he said. "Come to me—my -wife or concubine,—I care not which, and I pledge you my -word, he shall die! I have but spared him until I sounded -your humour!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shivered, and raised her hands as if to conjure away -some apparition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—no—never!" she gasped. "You would not dare! -You would not dare! You are but frightening me! Have pity -on me and let me go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not detain you! Go if you will, but remember the -wager!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her head drooped, while Benilo drew nearer, bending his -exultant eyes on her wilted form, and in the passion which -mastered him, he grasped her wrists and drew her hands -apart, then kissed her passionately upon the lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a hunted cry, she wrenched herself away, and leaping -backward, faced him, her voice choked with panting fury:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fool! Devil! Coward! Could you not respect a woman's -grief for the degradation you have forced upon her? Dog! -I might have paid your forfeit had I died of shame! But -now—I will not!" She snapped her fingers in his face. "This for -your wager! This for an oath to you—the vermin of the -earth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo took a backward step, awed by the flaming madness -in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take care!" he growled threateningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The vermin that crawls in the dust, I say," she reiterated -panting, "the dust—the dust! Better a thousand deaths -than the brute love you offer! Between us it is a duel to the -death! I will win him back,—if I have to barter my evil -beauty for eternal damnation,—if our entwined souls burn -to crisp in purgatory,—I will win him back, revealing -myself to him the foul thing I am,—and by way of contrast -sing your praises, my Lord Benilo—believe me,—the devils -themselves shall be wroth with jealousy at my song."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something in the woman's eye, which staggered -the Chamberlain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would not dare!" he exclaimed aghast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare everything! You have challenged me and now -your coward soul quails before the issue!—You would have -me recede,—go! I've done with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet," Benilo replied, with his sinister drawl—edging -nearer the woman. "I have something else to say to you! -Your words are but air! You have measured your strength -with mine and failed! Go to your old time love! Tell him -you found a conscience,—tell him where you found it,—and -see if he allows you leisure to confess all your other -peccadilloes, trifling though they be! Still—the risk is -equal. I have a mind to take the chance! Once more, -Theodora,—confess yourself defeated,—acknowledge that the -champion is beyond your reach—be mine—and the wager -shall be wiped out!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She recoiled from him, raising her hands in unfeigned -horror and cried:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never—never."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you will!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you would have me make him untrue to his vows? -You would have me add this sin too, to my others?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed sardonically, while he feasted his eyes on her -great beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will not add much to the burden, I ween."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave him one look, in which fear mingled with contempt -and turned to go, when with a spring, stealthy as the -panther's, he overtook her, and pinning down her arms, bent -back the proud head and once more pressed his lips upon the -woman's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a cry like a wounded animal she released herself, -pushed him back with the strength of her vigorous youth and -spat in his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you still desire me?" she hissed with flaming eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sprang at her with a furious oath, but his outstretched -fingers grasped the air. Theodora had vanished. Recoiling -from the towering forms of the Africans, who guarded the -corridor leading to her apartments, Benilo staggered blindly -back into the dark deserted halls. Here he found himself face -to face with Hezilo the harper, who seemed to rise out of the -shadows like some ill-omened phantom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you waver now," the harper spoke with his strange -unimpassioned voice,—"you are lost!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Chamberlain stopped before the harper's arresting -words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What can I do?" he groaned with a deep breath. "My -soul half sinks beneath the mighty burden I have heaped upon -it, it quails before the fatal issue."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have measured your strength with the woman's," -replied the harper. "She has felt the conquering whip-hand. -Onward! Unflinchingly! Relentlessly! She dare not face the -final issue!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I need new courage, as the dread hour approaches!" -Benilo replied, his breath coming fast between his set teeth. -"And from your words, your looks, I drink it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then take it from this also: If now you fail hardly the -grave would be a refuge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo peered up at his strange counsellor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Man or devil,—who are you to read the depths of the soul -of man?" he queried amazed, vainly endeavouring to penetrate -the vizor, which shaded the harper's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps neither," a voice answered which seemed to come -from the remotest part of the great hall, yet it was Hezilo the -harper, who spoke, "Perchance some spirit, permitted to -return to earth to goad man to his final and greatest fall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It shall be as you say!" Benilo spoke, rousing himself. -"Onward! Relentlessly! Unflinchingly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He staggered from the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I too should have flagged and failed, had not one -thought whispered hope to me in the long and solitary hours -which fill up the interstices of time," muttered the harper, -gazing after the Chamberlain's vanishing form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The voices died to silence. The pale light of dawn peered -into the deserted hall.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-phantom-at-the-shrine"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE PHANTOM AT THE SHRINE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-a.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t last the evening had come, -when Eckhardt was for ever to -retire from the world, to spend -the remainder of his days in -prayers and penances, within -the dismal walls of the cloister. -The pontiff himself was to -officiate at the high ceremony, -which was to close the last -chapter in the great general's -life. Daylight was fading fast, and the faint light, which -still glimmered through the western windows of St. Peter's -Basilica had long since lost its sunset ruddiness and was little -more than a pale shadow. The candles, their mighty rival -departed, blazed higher now in merry fitfulness, delighting to -play in grotesque imagery over the monkish faces, which -haunted the gloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One end of the Basilica was now luminous with the pale -glow of innumerable slender tapers of every length, ranged in -gradated order round the altar. Their mellow radiance drove -the gloom a quarter of the way down the cathedral. The -massive bronze doors at the farther end were still shut and -locked. The only way of entering the church was through -the sacristy, by way of the north transepts, to which only the -monks had access. No sound that should ring out within -these mighty walls to-night could reach the ears of those who -might be in the streets without.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile the quiescent echoes of the vast Basilica were -disturbed by fitful murmurs from the Sacristy. Far in the -distance, from the north transept, might be distinguished -light footfalls. Slowly a double file of monks entered the -church, walking to the rhythm of a subdued processional chant, -which rose through the sombre shadows of the aisles. At the -same time the great portals of the Basilica were thrown open -to the countless throngs, which had been waiting without and -which now, like waters released from the impediment of a -dam, rushed into the immense area, waiting to receive them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rumour of Eckhardt's impending consecration had -added no little to the desire of the Romans to be present at a -spectacle such as had not within the memory of man fallen to -their lot to behold, and it seemed as if all Rome had flocked to -the ancient Basilica to witness the great and touching ordeal -at which the youthful Pontiff himself was to officiate. -Seemingly interminable processions of monks, bearing huge waxen -tapers, of choristers, acolytes and incense-bearers, with a -long array of crosses and other holy emblems continued to -pour into the Basilica. The priests were in their bright robes -of high-ceremony. The choristers chanted a psalm as they -passed on and the incense bearers swung their silver censers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Pontiff's face was a rarely lovely one to look upon; -it was that of a mere youth. His chin was smooth as any -woman's and the altar cloth was not as white as his delicate -hands. The halo of golden hair, which encircled his tonsure, -gave him the appearance of a saint. Marvellously, indeed, -did stole, mitre and staff become the delicate face and figure -of Bruno of Carinthia, and if there was some incongruity -between the spun gold of his fair hair and the severity of the -mitre, which surrounded it, there was none in all that assembly -to note it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the door, awaiting the pontifical train, stood the venerable -Gerbert of Aurillac, impressive in his white and gold dalmatica -against the red robes of the chapter. Preceded by two cardinals -the Pontiff mounted the steps, entering through the great -bronze portals of the Basilica, which poured a wave of music -and incense out upon the hushed piazza. Then they closed -again, engulfing the brilliant procession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chant ceased and the monks silently ranged themselves -in a close semi-circle about the high-altar. There was a brief -and impressive silence, while the deep, melodious voice of -the Archbishop of Rheims was raised in prayer. The monks -chanted the Agnus Dei, then a deep hush of expectation fell -upon the multitudes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The faint echoes of approaching footsteps now broke the -intense silence which pervaded the immense area of the -Basilica. Accompanied by two monks, Eckhardt slowly strode down -the aisle, which the reverential tread of millions had already -worn to unevenness. In an obscured niche he had waited -their signal, racked by doubts and fears, and less convinced -than ever that the final step he was about to take would lead -to the desired goal. From his station he could distinguish -faint silhouettes of the glittering spars in the vaulting, and -the sculptured chancel, twisted and beaten into fantastic -shapes and the line of ivory white Apostles. As he approached -the monks gathered closely round the chancel, where, under -the pontifical canopy, stood the golden chair of the Vicar of -Christ.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt did not raise his eyes. Once only, as in mute -questioning, did his gaze meet that of Gregory, then he knelt -before the altar. His ardent desire was about to be fulfilled. -As this momentous time approached, Eckhardt's hesitation -in taking the irrevocable step seemed to diminish—and -gradually to vanish. He was even full of impatient joy. Never -did bridegroom half so eagerly count the hours to his wedding, -as did the German leader the moments which were for ever to -relieve him of that gnawing pain that consumed his soul. -In the broken fitful slumber of the preceding night he had seen -himself chanting the mass. To be a monk seemed to him now -the last and noblest refuge from the torments which gnawed -the strings of his heart. At this moment he would have -disdained the estate of an emperor or king. There was no choice -left now. The bridge leading into the past was destroyed and -Eckhardt awaited his anointment more calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gregory's face was grave and to a close observer it would -have appeared to withhold approval from that which added -greater glory to the Church, as if anticipating proportionately -greater detriment for the state. As Eckhardt knelt in silent -prayer, all but entranced in religious ecstasy, he noted not the -nearness of Benilo, who watched him like a tiger from the half -gloom of his station. The hush in the Basilica was well-nigh -oppressive. The Romans, who had flocked hither to witness -the uncommon sight of a victorious leader abandoning the -life at a court for the cassock of a monk, and perhaps inwardly -calculating the immense consequences of a step so grave, -waited breathlessly until that step should be accomplished. -Those whose sympathies lay with the imperial party were -filled with grave misgivings, for if Eckhardt's example found -imitators in the German host, the cause of the emperor would -grow weaker in proportion as the prestige of the Romans and -the monks increased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The benediction had been pronounced. The Communion -in both kind had been partaken. The palms of Eckhardt had -been anointed with consecrated oil, and finally the celebration -of the Holy Rite had been offered up in company with the -officiating Cardinal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was done. There remained little more than the cutting -of the tonsure, and from the world, which had once claimed -him—from the world to which he still unconsciously clung -with fevered pulses,—Eckhardt was to vanish for ever. As the -officiating Cardinal of San Gregorio approached the kneeling -general, the latter chanced to raise his head. A deadly pallor -overspread his features as his eyes gazed beyond the ecclesiastic -at one of the great stone pillars, half of which was wrapt in -dense gloom. The ceremony, so splendid a moment ago, -seemed to fade before the aspect of those terrible eyes, which -peered into his own from a woman's face, pale as death. -Throughout the church darkness seemed suddenly to reign, -The candles paled in their sconces of gold before the glare of -those eyes, calculated to make or mar the destinies of man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Against the incense saturated gloom, her beauty shone out -like a heavenly revelation; she seemed herself the fountain of -light, to give it rather than to receive it. For a moment -Eckhardt lowered his gaze, little doubting but that the apparition -was some new temptation of the fiend, to make him waver at -the decisive moment. The ceremony proceeded. But when -after a few moments, not being able to withstand the lure, he -looked up again, he saw her glittering in a bright penumbra, -which dazzled him like the burning disk of the sun. And as -he gazed upon the strange apparition, tall with the carriage of -a goddess, her eyes darting rays like stars, winging straight -for his heart—and she the very image of his dead wife, just -as she had appeared to him on that memorable night in the -churchyard of San Pancrazio,—he hardly knew whether the -flame that lighted those orbs came from heaven to strengthen -his resolve, or from hell, to foil it. But from devil or angel -assuredly it came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her white teeth shone in the terrible smile, with which she -regarded him. The smooth alabaster skin of her throat glistened -with a pearly sheen. Her white robe, falling from her head to -her feet, straight as the winding sheet of death, matched the -marble pallor of her complexion, and her hands, seemingly -holding the shroud in place, were as white as fresh fallen snow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Eckhardt continued to gaze upon her, he felt the floodgates -of his memory re-open; he felt the portals of the past, -which had seemed locked and barred, swing back upon their -hinges, grating deep down in his soul. And with the sight of -the phantom standing before him, so life-like, so beautiful, -all the mad longing bounded back into his heart. Gripped by -a terrible pain, he heard neither the chant, nor the words of -the Cardinal. Everything around him seemed to fade, but the -terrible being still held his gaze with those deep and marvellous -eyes, that had all the brightness and life of the sapphire seas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt felt he was being carried far from the sphere of -the cloister into a world at whose gates new desires were -knocking. While he mechanically muttered the responses to -the queries, which the Cardinal put to him, his whole soul -began to rise in arms against the words his tongue was uttering. -A secret force seemed to drag them from him, he felt the gaze -of the thousands weighing upon him like a cope of lead. Yet -it seemed that no one in all that vast assembly heeded the -strange apparition, and if there appeared any hesitancy in -Eckhardt's responses, or a strange restlessness in his -demeanour, it was charged to the consciousness of the -momentous change, the responsibility of the irrevocable step, -crushing life, ambition and hope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the countenance of the mysterious apparition did not -change as the ceremony progressed. Steadfastly, with tender -and caressing gaze she seemed to regard him, her whole soul -in her straining eyes. With an effort, which might have -moved a mountain, Eckhardt strove to cry out, that he would -never be a monk. It was in vain. His tongue clove to the -roof of his mouth. Not even by sign could he resist. Wide -awake, he seemed to be in the throes of one of those nightmares, -wherein one cannot utter the words on which life itself depends. -The apparition seemed instinctively to read and to comprehend -the torture, which racked Eckhardt's breast. And the glance -she cast upon him seemed so fraught with the echoes of despair, -that it froze his heart to the core.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was it indeed but an apparition?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was this terrible semblance to his dead wife more than a -mere accident?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chalice, with the blood of Christ, trembled in Eckhardt's -hand. He was about to pass it to his lips. But try as he -might, he could not avert his gaze. Those terrible eyes, the -marble calm of the face of his dead wife seemed to draw him -onward,—onward.—Forgotten was church, and ceremony, -and vow; forgotten everything before that phantom from -beyond the grave. It held him with a power which mocked to -scorn every effort to escape its spell. The apparition lured -him on, as almost imperceptibly it began to recede, without -once abandoning its gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wild shriek re-echoed through the high-vaulted dome -of the Basilica of St. Peter. It was the shriek of a -madman, who has escaped his guards, but fears to be overtaken. -The golden chalice fell from Eckhardt's nerveless grasp, spilling -its contents over the feet of the Cardinal of San Gregorio who -raised his hands in unfeigned dismay and muttered an anathema. -Then, with a white, wet face, Eckhardt staggered blindly -to his feet, groping, with outstretched arms, toward the -apparition—which seemed to recede farther and farther away into -the gloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hush of death had fallen upon the assembly. The monk -Cyprianus raised aloft his arms, as though invoking divine -interposition and exorcising the fiend. His eyes, the eyes of the -assembled thousands and the stare of Benilo, the Chamberlain, -followed the direction of Eckhardt's outstretched arms. -Suddenly he was seen to pause before one of the massive pillars, -pale as death, mumbling strange words, accompanied by -stranger gestures. Then he gazed about like one waking from -a terrible dream—the spot where the apparition had mocked -him but a moment ago was deserted! Had it been but another -temptation of the fiend?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But no! It was impossible. This woman had made him -utterly her own; her glance had sufficed to snap asunder the -fetters of a self-imposed yoke, as though her will, powerful even -after death, had suddenly passed upon him. Though he saw -her not at the present moment, he had but to close his eyes, -to see her as distinctly as if she were still present in the body. -And in that moment Eckhardt felt all the horrors of the path -he was about to choose, the dead and terrible aspect of the life -he was about to espouse. To be a monk, to crawl till death -in the chill shade of the cloister, to see none save living -spectres, to watch by the nameless corpses of folks unknown, -to wear his raiment for his coffin's pall—a terrible dread -seized him. One brief hour spent before an altar and some -gabbled words were about to cut him off for ever from the society of -the living. With his own hand he was about to seal the stone -upon his tomb, and turn the key in the lock of the door of Life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like a whirlwind these thoughts passed through Eckhardt's -brain. Then he imagined once more that he saw the eyes of -his dead wife gazing upon him, burning into the very depths -of his soul. What made their aspect so terrible to him, he was -not just then in the frame to analyze. Some mysterious -force, which had left the sweetness of her face unmarred, -seemed to have imparted something to her eyes that inspired -him with an unaccountable dread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he paused thus before the pillar, pressing his icy hands -to his fevered temples, vainly groping for a solution, vainly -endeavouring to break the fetters which bound his will and -seemed to crush his strength, there broke upon his ears the -loud command of the officiating monk, to return and bid the -Fiend desist. These words broke the deadly spell which had -benumbed his senses and caused him to remain riveted to -the spot, where the phantom had hovered. His sunken eyes -glared as those of a madman, as he slowly turned in response -to the monk's behest. The hot breath came panting from -between his parched lips. Then, without heeding the ceremony, -without heeding the monks or the spectators who had flocked -hither to witness his consecration, Eckhardt dashed through -the circle of which he had formed the central figure and, ere -the amazed spectators knew what happened or the monks could -stem his precipitate flight, the chief of the imperial hosts -rushed out of the church in his robes of consecration and -vanished from sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So quickly, so unexpectedly did it all happen, that even the -officiating Cardinal seemed completely paralyzed by the -suddenness of Eckhardt's flight. There was no doubt in the mind -of Cyprianus that the Margrave had gone mad and his whispered -orders sent two monks speeding after the demented neophyte. -Deep, ominous silence hovered over the vast area of the Basilica. -It seemed as if the very air was fraught with deep portent, and -ominous forebodings of impending danger filled the hearts of -the assembled thousands. The people knelt in silent prayer -and breathless expectation. Would Eckhardt return? Would -the ceremony proceed?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Among all those, who had so eagerly watched the uncommon -spectacle of whose crowning glory they were about to see -themselves deprived, there was but one to whom the real cause of -the scene which had just come to a close, was no mystery. -Benilo alone knew the cause of Eckhardt's flight. To the -last moment he had triumphed, convinced that no temptation -could turn from his chosen path a mind so stern as Eckhardt's. -But when the effect of the mysterious vision upon the kneeling -general became apparent, when his restlessness grew with -every moment, up to the terrible climax, accentuated by his -madman's yell, when, unmindful of the monk's admonition—he -saw him rush out of the church in his consecrated robes—then -Benilo knew that the general would not return. For the -time all the insolent boastfulness of his nature forsook him -and he shivered as one seized with a sudden chill. Without -awaiting what was to come, unseen and unnoticed amidst -the all-pervading consternation, the Chamberlain rushed out -of the Basilica by the same door through which Eckhardt -had gained the open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under his canopy sat the Vice-Gerent of Christ, surrounded -by the consecrated cardinals and bishops and the monks of -the various orders. Without an inkling of the true cause -prompting Eckhardt's precipitate flight Gregory had witnessed -the terrible scene, which had just come to a close. But -inwardly he rejoiced. For only when every opposition to -Eckhardt's mad desire had appeared fruitless, had the Pontiff -acquiesced in granting to him the special dispensation, which -shortened the time of his novitiate to the limit of three days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was not a matter for the moment, for Gregory himself -was to partake of the Communion and the monk Cyprianus, -who was to perform the holy office, a tribute to the order -whose superior he was, had just blessed the host. In his -consecrated hand the wine was to turn into the blood of Christ, -Gregory had just partaken of the holy wafer. Now the monk -placed the golden tube in the golden chalice and, drawing his -cowl deeply over his forehead, passed the other end of the -tube to the Pontiff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gregory placed the golden tube to his lips, and as he sipped -the wine, changed into blood, the two cardinals on duty -approached the sacred throne, a torch in one hand, a small -bundle of tow in the other. According to custom they set the -tow on fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the unison chant of the monks resounded; the -assembled thousands lying prostrate in prayer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly there arose a strange bustle round the pontifical -canopy. Suppressed murmurs broke the silence. Monks were -to be seen rushing hither and thither. Gregory had fainted! -The monk Cyprianus seemed vainly endeavouring to revive -him. For a moment the crowds remained in awe-struck -silence, then, as if the grim spectre of Death had visibly -appeared amongst them, the terror-stricken worshippers rushed -out of the Basilica of St. Peter and soon the terrible rumour -was rife in the streets of Rome. Pope Gregory the Fifth was -dying.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-death-watch"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE DEATH WATCH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he sun had sunk to rest and -the noises of the day were -dying out, one by one. The -deep hush of the hour of dusk -settled once more over the city, -shaken to its very depths by -the terrible catastrophe and -upheaved by the fanaticism of the -monks, who roused the populace -to a paroxysm of frenzy and -fear which gave way to pandemonium itself, when the feelings -of the masses, strung to their utmost tension, leaped into the -opposite extreme. Crescentius had remained shut up in Castel -San Angelo, but the monk Cyprianus could be seen stalking -through the city at the hour of dusk, and whosoever met him -crossed himself devoutly, and prayed to have time for -confession, when the end was nigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The importance of the impending change impressed itself -upon every mind. The time when worldly power alone could -hope to successfully cope with the crying evils of a fast decaying -age, of a world, grown old and stale and rotten, upon which -had not yet fallen the beam of the Renaissance, was not yet at -hand, and the fatal day of Canossa had not yet illumined the -century with its lurid glare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Therefore Otto had chosen Bruno, the friend of his boyhood, -for the highest honours in Christendom, Bruno, one in mind, -one in soul with himself, and the Conclave had by its vote -ratified the imperial choice. But Bruno himself had not wished -the honour. While he shared the high ideals of his royal -friend he lacked that confidence in himself, which was so -essential a requirement for the ruler whose throne swayed -on the storm-tossed billows of the Roman See. Bruno was -of a rather retrospective turn of mind, and it was doubtful, -whether he would be able to carry out the sweeping reforms -planned by Theophano's idealistic son, and regarded with -secret abhorrence by the Italian cardinals. Only with the aid -of the venerable Gerbert had Gregory consented to enter upon -the grave duties awaiting him at the head of the Christian -world at a time when that world seemed to totter in its very -foundations. And he had paid the penalty, cut down in the -prime of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the Vatican chapel on a bier, round which were burning -six wax candles in silver-sticks, lay the fast decaying body of -Gregory V. Terrible rumours concerning the Pontiff's death -were abroad in the city. The doors of the Pope's private -apartments had been found locked from within. The terrified -attendants had not ventured to return to the Vatican until the -gray morning light of the succeeding day broke behind the -crests of the Apennines. They had broken down the door, -rumour had it, but to recoil from the terrible sight which met -their eyes. On his bed lay the dead Pontiff. The head and -right arm almost touched the floor, as if in the death-struggle -he had lost his balance. Traces of burnt parchment on the -floor and an empty phial on the table beside him intensified, -rather than cleared up the mystery. And as they approached, -terror-stricken, and endeavoured to lift the body, the right arm -almost severed itself from the trunk at their touch, and the body -was fast turning black. The handsome features of the youth -were gray and drawn, his hair clammy and dishevelled and the -open eyes stared frightfully into space as if vainly searching -for the murderer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whatever Gerbert's suspicions were when, too late, he -arrived in the death chamber, no hint escaped his lips. Under -his personal care the body of the hapless youth was prepared -for interment, then he hurriedly convoked the Conclave and -ordered the gates of Rome closed against any one attempting -to leave the city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Vatican chapel was hung with funereal tapestry. -Everywhere were seen garlands of flowers entwined with -branches of cypress. In the middle of the chapel stood the bier, -covered with black velvet. A choir of monks, robed in -vestments of black damask, was chanting the last Requiem. The -Cardinal of Sienna was conducting the last rites. As the -echoes of the chant died away under the vaulted arches, a -monk approached the bier, and sprinkled the corpse with holy -water. The Cardinal pronounced the benediction; the monk -bent slightly over the body when a drop from the forehead of -the dead Pontiff rebounded to his face. He shuddered and -hastily retreated behind the monks, who formed into the -recessional. Only two remained in the chapel. Contrary to -all custom they extinguished the candles which had burnt -down half-way. The smaller ones they left to flicker out, -until they should pitifully flare up once, more, then to go out -in the great darkness like the soul of man, when his hour has -come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The last and only one to remain within the chapel to hold -the death-watch with the Pontiff, was Eckhardt, the Margrave. -Wrapt in his dark fancies he sat beside the bier. After his -precipitate flight all memory of what succeeded had vanished. -Exhausted and tottering he had found himself in the palace -on the Caelian Mount, where he shut himself up till the terrible -tidings of the Pontiff's death penetrated to the solitude of his -abode. Now it seemed to him that the moment he would set -foot in the streets of Rome, some dark and fearful revelation -awaited him. Since that night, when the strange apparition -had drawn him from the altars of Christ, had caused him to -renounce the vows his lips were about to pronounce, a terrible -fear and suspicion had gripped his soul. The presentiment of -some awful mystery haunted him night and day, as he brooded -over the terrible fascination of those eyes, which had laid their -spell upon him, the amazing resemblance of the apparition to -the wife of his soul, long dead in her grave. And the more he -pondered the heavier grew his heart within him, and he -groped in vain for a ray of light on his dark and lonely -path,—vainly for a guiding hand, to conduct him from the labyrinth -of doubt and fear into the realms of oblivion and peace. The -Margrave's senses reeled from the heavy fumes of flowers and -incense, which filled the Basilica. The light from a cresset-lantern -on the wall, contending singly with the pale mournful -rays of the moon, which cast a dim light through the long -casement, over pillars and aisles, fell athwart his pallid face. -The terrible incidents of the past night, which had thrown him -back into the throes of the world, and had snuffed out the -Pontiff's life, weighed heavily upon him, and for the nonce, -the commander abandoned every attempt to clear the terrible -mystery which enshrouded him. He almost despaired of -combating the spectre single-handed, and now the one man, who -might by counsel and precept have guided his steps, had been -struck down by the assassin's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sanctity of the place, the solemnity of the hour, and the -deep silence around were well calculated to deepen the -melancholy mood of the solitary watcher. Weird were the fancies -that swept over his mind, memories of a long forgotten past, -and dim, indistinct plans for the future, till at length, wearied -with his own reflections over that saddest of all earthly enigmas, -what might have been, he seated himself on a low bench beside -the bier. The moonbeams grew fainter and more faint, as the -time wore on, and the sharp distinction between light and -shadow faded fast from the marble floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thicker and thicker drooped the shadows round the bier -of the dead Pontiff. The silence seemed to deepen. The moon -was gone. Save for the struggling rays of the cresset-lantern -above him, the blackness of night closed round the solemn -and ghostly scene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The scent of flowers and the fumes of incense weighed -heavily on Eckhardt's senses. Vainly did he combat the -drowsiness; the silence, the dim light and the heavy fumes at -last laid their benumbing spell upon him and lulled him to -sleep. His head fell back and his eyes closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his sleep was far from calm. Weird dreams beset him. -Again he lived over the terrible ordeal of the preceding night. -Again he saw himself surrounded, hemmed in by a vast -concourse. Again he saw the phantom at the shrine, the phantom -with Ginevra's face,—Ginevra's eyes; again he heard her -strange luring words. The wine spilled from the sacred -chalice looked like blood on the marble stairs of the altar. He -heard his own voice, strange, unearthly; gripped by a choking -sensation he rushed from the crowded Basilica, the air of which -seemed to stifle him,—rushed in pursuit of the phantom -with Ginevra's face,—Ginevra's eyes. At the threshold of the -church a hand seized his own,—a woman's hand. How long, -since he had felt a woman's hand in his own! It was cold as -the skin of a serpent, yet it burnt like fire. And the hand drew -him onward, ever onward. There was no resisting the gaze -of those eyes which burnt into his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A deep azure overspread the sky. The trees were clothed in -the raiment of spring. Blindly he staggered onward. Blindly -he followed his strange guide through groves, fragrant with -the perfumes of flowers,—the air seemed as a bower of love. -The hand drew him onward with its chill, yet burning touch. -The way seemed endless. Faster and faster grew their speed. -At last they seemed to devour the way. The earth flitted -beneath them as a gray shadow. The black trees fled in the -darkness like an army in rout. They delved into glens, gloomy -and chill. The night-birds clamoured in the forest deeps; -will-o'-the-wisps gleamed over stagnant pools and now and -then the burning eyes of spectres pierced the gloom, who -lined a dark avenue in their nebulous shrouds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the hand drew him onward—ever onward! Neither -spoke. Neither questioned. At last he found himself in a -churchyard. The scent of faded roses hovered on the air like -the memory of a long-forgotten love. They passed tombstone -after tombstone, gray, crumbling, with defaced inscriptions; -the spectral light of the moon in its last quarter dimly -illumined their path till at last they reached a stone half hidden -behind tall weeds and covered with ivy, moss and lichen. The -earth had been thrown up from the grave, which yawned to -receive its inmate. Owls and bats flocked and flapped about -them with strange cries; the foxes barked their answer far away -and a thousand evil sounds rose from the stillness. As they -paused before the yawning grave he gazed up into his -companion's face. Pale as marble Ginevra stood by his side, -the long white shroud flowing unbroken to her feet. Through -the smile of her parted lips gleamed her white teeth, as -she pointed downward, to the narrow berth, then her arms -encircled his neck like rings of steel; her eyes seemed to pierce -his own, he felt unable to breathe, he felt his strength giving -way, together they were sinking into the night of the grave—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shrill cry resounded through the silence of the Basilica. -Awakened by the terrible oppression of his dream,—roused -by the sound of his own voice, Eckhardt opened his eyes and -gazed about, fearstruck and dismayed. After a moment or -two he arose, to shake off the spell, which had laid its -benumbing touch upon him, when he suddenly recoiled, then -stood rooted to the spot with wild, dilated eyes. At the foot of -the Pontiff's bier stood the tall form of a woman. The fitful -rays of the cresset-lantern above him illumined her white, -flowing garb. A white transparent veil drooped from her head -to her feet; but the diaphanous texture revealed a face pale -and beautiful, and eyes which held him enthralled with their -slumbrous, mesmeric spell. Breathless with horror Eckhardt -gazed upon the apparition; was it but the continuation of his -dream or was he going mad?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the phantom slowly began to recede into the shadows, -Eckhardt with a supreme effort shook off the lethargy which -benumbed his limbs. He dared remain no longer inert, he -must penetrate the mystery, whatever the cost, whatever the -risk. With imploring, outstretched arms he staggered after -the apparition,—if apparition indeed it was,—straining his -gaze towards her slowly receding form—and so absorbed was -he in his pursuit, that he saw not the shadow which glided -into the mortuary chapel. Suddenly some dark object hurled -itself against him; quick as a flash, and ere he could draw a -second breath, a dagger gleamed before Eckhardt's eyes; he -felt the contact of steel with his iron breast-plate, he heard -the weapon snap asunder and fall at his feet, but when he -recovered from his surprise, the would-be assassin, without -risking a second stroke, had fled and the apparition seemed to -have melted into air. Eckhardt found himself alone with the -dead body of the Pontiff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With loud voice he called for the sentry, stationed without, -and when that worthy at last made his appearance, his heavy, -drooping eyelids and his drowsy gait did not argue in favour -of too great a watchfulness. Making the sentry doff his heavy -iron shoes, Eckhardt bade him secure a torch, then he made -the round of the chapel, preceded by his stolid companion. -The Margrave's anxiety found slight reflex in the coarse features -of his subordinate, who understood just enough of what was -wanted of him to comprehend the disappointment in his -master's countenance. As every door was locked and bolted, -the only supposition remaining was that the bravo had -discovered some outlet from within. But Eckhardt's tests proved -unavailing. The floor and the walls seemed of solid masonry -which to penetrate seemed impossible. The broken blade -offered no clue either to the author or perpetrator of this deed of -darkness, and after commanding the sentry to keep his watch -for the remainder of the night, inside, Eckhardt endeavoured -once more to compose himself to rest, while the man-at-arms -stretched his huge limbs before the pontifical bier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bells of St. Peter's chimed shrill and loud as a mighty -multitude, greater even than that of the preceding night, -swept within its portals toward the chapel of Boniface VIII. -There, filling every inch of space, only the more fortunate of -the crowd gained a glimpse of the coffin, which had been closed, -for the corpse was decaying fast, the effect of the terrible and -mysterious poison which had been mixed in the holy wine. -At length, as the solemn chant of the choristers began to swell -through the edifice, preluding the celebration of the Death -Mass for the departed Pontiff, a silence as of the tomb pervaded -the vast edifice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus the day wore on,—thus the day departed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The solemn chant had died away. The sun of another day -had set.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The funeral cortege set in motion. Fifty torches surrounded -the bier and so numerous were the lamps in the windows of the -streets through which the funeral procession passed, so -abundant the showers of roses which poured upon the bier, that the -people declared it surpassed the procession Corpus Domini.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Interchanging solemn hymns, the cortege arrived at last -before the church of San Pietro in Montorio, where the body -was to be placed in the niche provisionally appointed, where -it was to remain till the death of the succeeding pope should -consign it to its final place of rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ceremony ended, the people dispersed. Few loiterers -remained on the pavement of the church. The sacristan -announced that it was about to be closed, and waiting until, -as he thought, all had departed, he turned the ponderous -doors on their hinges and shut them with a crash. The report, -reverberating from arch to arch, shook the ancient sepulchre -through its every angle. The lamps, which at wide intervals -burned feebly before the shrines of the saints, lent additional -solemnity and awe to the obscurity of the place. One torch -was left to light a narrow circle round the entrance to the -crypt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Silence had succeeded when out of the shadow of the tomb -there passed two figures, who upon entering the narrow -circle of light emanating from the dim, flickering taper, faced -each other in mute amazement and surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you doing here?" spoke the one, in the garb -of a monk, as they stood revealed to each other in the half -gloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a gesture of horror and dismay the other, a woman, -wrapt in a dark mantle, which covered her tall and stately form -from head to foot, turned away from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I give you back the question," she replied, dread and fear -in her tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My presence here concerns the dead," said the monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They say, the hand of the dead Pontiff has touched his -murderer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk paled. For a moment he almost lost his self-control.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He had to die some way," he replied with a shrug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monster!" she exclaimed, recoiling from him, as if she -had seen a snake in her path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He travelled in godly company," said the monk Cyprianus -with a dark laugh. "An entire Conclave will welcome him -at the gates of Paradise. Why are you here?" the monk -concluded, a shade of suspicion lingering in his tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I accountable to you?" flashed Theodora.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Being what you are through my intercession,—perhaps," -replied the monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She measured him with a look of unutterable contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because the prying eyes of a perjured wretch, who screened -his vileness behind the cassock of the monk, dared to offend -the majesty of Death and to disturb the repose of the departed, -you come to me like some importunate slave dissatisfied with -his hire? You dare to constitute yourself my guardian, to -call Theodora a thing of your creation? Take care! You -speak to a descendant of Marozia. I have had enough of -whimpering monks. For the service demanded of you in a -certain hour you have been paid. So clear the way, and -trouble me no more!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk did not stir.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fair Theodora has not inherited Ginevra's memory," -he said with a sneer. "The gold was to purchase the -repose of Ginevra's soul."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora shuddered, as if oppressed with the memories of -the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Candles and masses," she said, as one soliloquizing. "How -signally they failed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If a thousand Aves, and tapers six foot long fail in their -purpose,—what undiscovered penance could perform the -miracle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something in the gleam of the monk's eye which -brought Theodora to herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want of me?" she questioned curtly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fulfilment of your pledge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have been paid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk waved his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis not for gold, I have ventured this—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he pointed to the crypts below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She recoiled from him, regarding him with a fixed stare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want of me?" she again asked with a look, -in which hate and wonder struggled for the mastery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The new Conclave will be made up of your creatures. -Their choice must fall—on me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the perjured assassin?" shrieked the woman. "Out -of my way! I've done with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk stirred not. From his drawn white face two eyes -like glowing coals burnt into those of the woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember your pledge!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Out of my way, assassin! Dare you so high? The chair -of St. Peter shall never be defiled by such a one—as you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And thus Theodora rewards the service rendered to -Ginevra," the monk said, breathing hard, and making a -step towards her. She watched him narrowly, her hand -concealed under her cloak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dare but to touch the hem of this robe with your -blood-stained hands—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cyprianus retreated before the menace in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought I had lived too long for surprises," he said -calmly. "Yet, considering that I bear here in this bosom a -secret, which one, I know, would give an empire to -obtain,—Cyprianus can be found tractable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a last glance at the woman's face, stony in its marble-cold -disdain, the monk turned and left the church through the -sacristy. For a moment Theodora remained as one spell-bound, -then she drew her mantle more closely about her and left -the sepulchre by an exit situated in an opposite direction. No -sooner had her footsteps died to silence when two shadowy -forms sped noiselessly through the incense-saturated dusk of -S. Pietro in Montorio, pausing on the threshold of the door, -through which the monk Cyprianus had gained the open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I need that man!" whispered the taller into the ear of -his companion, pointing with shadowy finger to the swiftly -vanishing form of the monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other nodded with a horrid grin, which glowed upon his -visage like phosphorus upon a skull.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a quick nod of understanding, the Grand Chamberlain -and John of the Catacombs quitted the steps of S. Pietro in -Montorio.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Darkness fell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Night enveloped the trembling world with her star -embroidered robe of dark azure.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-conclave"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE CONCLAVE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-a.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span> vast concourse surrounded the -portals of the Vatican. It -seemed as if the entire -population of Rome, from the Porta -del Popolo to the Coliseum, -from the baths of Diocletian to -Castel San Angelo, had -assembled by appointment in the -Piazza of St. Peter. For so -dense was the multitude, that its -pressure filled the adjacent thoroughfares, the crowds clinging -round columns, winding along the broken outlines of the walls, -and grouping themselves among the ruins of temples and fallen -porticoes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The eyes of all were fixed upon that wing of the pontifical -palace where the Conclave, hurriedly convoked, was assembled, -and as Gregory V had now been dead sixteen days, the cardinals -were proceeding with the election of a new Pope. Never possibly, -from the hour when the first successor of St. Peter mounted -the throne of the Apostle, had there been exhibited so much -unrest and disquietude as there was in this instance to be -observed among the masses. The rumour that Gregory had -died of poison had proved true, and the Romans had been seized -with a strange fear, urging all ranks towards the Vatican or -Monte Cavallo, according as the scarlet assembly held its -sittings in one place or another. During the temporary -interregnum, the Cardinal of Sienna, president of the Apostolic -Chamber, had assumed the pontifical authority.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For three days the eyes of the Romans had been fixed upon -a chimney in the Vatican, whence the first signal should issue, -proclaiming the result of the pending election. Yet at the hour -when the Ave Maria announced the close of day, a small column -of smoke, ascending like a fleecy cloud of vapour to the sky, -had been the only reward for their anxiety, and with cries -mingled with shouts of menace, discordant murmurs of -raillery and laughter the crowds had each day dispersed. For -the smoke announced that the Romans were still without -a Pontiff, that the ballot-list had been burnt, and that the -Sacred College had not yet chosen a successor to Gregory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day had been spent in anxious expectation. Hour -passed after hour, without a sign either to destroy or to excite -the hope, when the first stroke of five was heard. Slowly the bells -tolled the hour, every note falling on the hearts of the people, -whose anxious gaze was fixed on the chimney of the Vatican. -The last stroke sounded; its vibrations faintly fading on the silent -air of dusk, when a thunderous clamour, echoing from thousands -of throats, shook the Piazza of St. Peter, succeeded by a death-like -silence of expectation as with a voice, loud and penetrating, -Cardinal Colonna, who had stepped out upon the balcony, -announced to the breathless thousands:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I announce to you tidings of great joy: Gerbert of Aurillac, -Archbishop of Rheims, Bishop of Ravenna and Vice-Chancellor -of the Church, has been elected to the exalted office of Pontiff -and has ascended the chair of St. Peter under the name of -Sylvester II."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the Cardinal finished his announcement a monk in the -grey habit of the Penitent friars was seen to pale and to totter, -as if he were about to fall. Declining the aid of those endeavouring -to assist him he staggered through the crowds, covering -his face with his arms and was soon lost to sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thunderous applause at the welcome tidings was followed -by sighs of relief, as the people retired to their houses and -hovels. The place, where a few minutes before a nation seemed -collected, was again deserted, save for a few groups, composed -of such whom curiosity might detain or others who, residing in -the immediate neighbourhood, were less eager to depart. Even -these imperceptibly diminished, and when the hour of eight was -repeated from cloisters and convents, the lights in the houses -gradually disappeared, save in one window of the Vatican, -whence a lamp still shed its fitful light through the nocturnal -gloom.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-meeting"><span class="bold x-large">Book the Second</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold xx-large">The Sorceress</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"As I came through the desert, thus it was</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>As I came through the desert: I was twain;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Two selves distinct, that cannot join again.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>One stood apart and knew but could not stir,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And watched the other stark in swoon and her;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And she came on and never turned aside,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Between such sun and moon and roaring tide:</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And as she came more near,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My soul grew mad with fear."</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>—</span><em class="italics">James Thomson</em><span>.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MEETING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="N" src="images/img-cap-n.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ot many days after, in the still -noontide of mellow autumn, a -small band of horsemen drew -towards Rome. They rode along -the Via Appia, between the -ancient tombs; all about them, -undulant to the far horizon, -stretched a brown wilderness -dotted with ruins. Ruins of -villas, of farms, of temples, -with here and there a church or a monastery, that told of the -newer time. Olives in scant patches, a lost vineyard, a speck -of tilled soil, proved that men still laboured amid this vast and -awful silence, but rarely did a human figure meet the eye. -Marshy ground and stagnant pools lay on either hand, causing -them to glance sadly at those great aqueducts, which had in -bygone ages carried water from the hills into Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They rode in silence, tired with their journey, occupied with -heavy or anxious thoughts. Otto, King of the Germans, -impatient to arrive, was generally a little ahead of the rest of -the company. The pallor of his smooth and classic face was -enhanced by the coarse military cloak, dark and travel-stained, -which covered his imperial vestments. A lingering expression -of sadness was revealed in his eyes, and his lips were tightly -compressed in wordless grief, for the tidings of the untimely -death of the Pontiff, the friend of his youth and his boyhood -days, had reached him just after his departure from the shrines -of St. Michael in Apulia. Dark hints had been contained in the -message, which Sylvester II, Gregory's chosen successor and -Otto's former teacher, had despatched to the ruler of the Roman -world, urging his immediate return,—for the temper of the -Romans brooked no trifling, their leaders being ever on the -alert for mischief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Earthworks and buildings of military purpose presently -appeared, recalling the late blockade; churches and oratories -told them they were passing the sacred ground of the -Catacombs, then they trotted along a hollow way and saw before -them the Appian gate. Only two soldiers were on guard; -these, not recognizing the German king, took a careless view -of the travellers, then let them pass without speaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the base of the Aventine the cavalcade somewhat slackened -its pace. Slowly they ascended the winding road, until -they reached the old wall of Servius Tullius. Here Otto reined -in his charger, pausing, for a moment, to observe the view. -To the west and south-west stretched the brown expanse of the -Campagna, merging into the distant gray of the Roman -Maremma, while beyond that point a clear blue line marked -the Ionian Sea. Beneath them the Tiber wound its coils -round St. Bartholomew's Island, the yellow water of the river, -stirred into faint ripples by the breeze, looking from the distance -like hammered brass. Beyond the Tiber rose the Janiculan -Mount, behind which the top of the Vatican hill was just -visible. To southward the view was bounded by the Church of -Santa Prisca above them and far off rose the snow-capped -cone of Soracté. Northeast and east lay the Palatine and -Esquiline with the Campaniles of Santa Maria Maggiore and -San Pietro in Vincoli. Over the Caelian Mount they could see -the heights of the Sabine hills, and running their eyes along the -Appian way, they could almost descry the Alban lake. At a -sign from their sovereign the cavalcade slowly set in motion. -Passing the monastery of St. Jerome and its dependencies, the -three churches of the Aventine, Santa Sabina, Santa Maria -Aventina and St. Alexius, the imperial cavalcade at last drew -rein before the gates of Otto's Golden Palace on the Aventine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again in his beloved Rome, Otto's first visit was to Bruno's -grave. He had dismissed his attendants, wishing to be alone -in his hour of grief. Long he knelt in tears and silent prayers -before the spot, which seemed to contain half his young life, -then he directed his steps towards the Basilica of St. Peter, -there to conclude his devotions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now the hour of Vespers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The area of St. Peters was filled with a vast and silent crowd, -flowing in and out of the Confessor's station, which was in the -subterranean chapel, that contains the Apostle's tomb, the -very lode-stone of devotion throughout the Christian word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After having finished his devotions, Otto was seized with the -desire to seek the confessor, in order to obtain relief from the -strange oppression which hovered over him like a presentiment -of evil. Taking his station in line with a number of -penitents, in the dusky passage leading to the confessional, the -scene within was now and then revealed to his gaze for the -short space of a moment, when the bronze gates opened for -the entrance or exit of some heavily burdened sinner. The -tomb was stripped of all its costly ornaments, and lighted only -by the torches of some monks, whose office it was to interpret -the Penitentiarius, whenever occasion arose. These torches -shed a mournful glow over the dusk, suiting the place of -sepulchre of martyred saints. On the tomb itself stood an urn -of black marble, beneath which was an alabaster tablet, on -which was engraved the prophecy concerning the Millennium -and the second coming of Christ, and the conditions of penance -and prayer, which were to enable the faithful to share in and -obtain its benefits. Only now and then, when the curtain -waved aside, the person of the Grand Penitentiarius became -visible, his hands rigidly clasped, and his usually pale and stern -visage overspread with even a darker haze of its habitual -gloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Otto was anxiously waiting his turn to be admitted -to the presence of the Confessor, the gates of the confessional -suddenly swung open and a woman glided out. She was closely -veiled and in his mental absorption Otto might scarcely have -noticed her at all, but for the singular intensity of the gaze, -with which the monk followed her retreating form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she passed the German King in the narrow passage, her -veil became entangled and she paused to adjust it. As she did -so, her features were for the brief space of a moment revealed -to Otto, and with such an air of bewilderment did he stare at -her, that she almost unconsciously raised her eyes to his. For -a moment both faced each other, motionless, eye in eye—then -the woman quickened her steps and hastened out. After -she had disappeared, Otto touched his forehead like one -waking from a trance. Never, even in this city of beautiful -women, had he seen the like of her, never had his eyes met -such perfection, such exquisite beauty and loveliness. She -combined the stately majesty of a Juno with the seductive -charms of Aphrodite. In dark ringlets the silken hair caressed -the oval of her exquisite face, a face of the soft tint of Parian -marble, and the dark lustrous eyes gave life to the classic -features of this Goddess of Mediæval Rome. Before she -vanished from sight, the woman, seemingly obeying an impulse -not her own, turned her head in the direction of Otto. This -was due perhaps to the strange discrepancy between his face -and his attire, or to the presence of one so young and of -appearance so distinguished among the throngs which habitually -crowded the confessional.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How long he stood thus entranced, Otto knew not, nor did -he heed the curious gaze of those who passed him on entering -and leaving the confessional. At last he roused himself, and, -oblivious of his station and rank, flew down the dark, -vaulted passage at such a speed as almost to knock down -those who encountered him in his headlong pursuit of the fair -confessionist. It was more than a matter of idle curiosity to him -to discover, if possible, her station and name, and after having -attracted to himself much unwelcome attention by his rash -and precipitate act, he gradually fell into a slower pace. He -reached the end of the dark passage in time to see what he -believed to be her retreating form vanish down a corridor -and disappear in one of the numerous side-chapels. Concluding -that she had entered to perform some special devotion, -he resolved to await her return.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Considerable time elapsed. At last, growing impatient, -Otto entered the chapel. He found it draped throughout with -black, an altar in the center, dimly illumined. Some monks -were chanting a Requiem, and before the altar there knelt a -veiled woman, apparently under the spell of some deep emotion, -for Otto heard her sob when she attempted to articulate the -responses to the solemn and pathetic litany, which the Catholic -church consecrates to her dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the German King's observation suffered an immediate check.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A verger came forward on those soundless shoes, which all -vergers seem to have, and little guessing the person or quality -of the intruder informed him of the woman's desire, that none -should be admitted during the celebration of the mass. Otto -stared his informant in the face, as if he were at a loss to -comprehend his meaning, and the latter repeated his request -somewhat more slowly, under the impression that the -stranger's seeming lack of understanding was due to his -unfamiliarity with the speaker's barbarous jargon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto slowly retreated and deferring his intended visit to the -chapel of the Confessor to an hour more opportune, left the -Basilica. As he recalled to himself, trace after trace, line upon -line, that exquisite face, whose creamy pallor was enhanced -by the dark silken wealth of her hair, and from whose perfect -oval two eyes had looked into his own, which had caused his -heart-beats to stop and his brain to whirl, he could hardly -await the moment when he should learn her name, and perhaps -be favoured with the assurance that her visit on that -evening was not likely to have been her last to the Confessor's -shrine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Imbued with this hope, he slowly traversed the streets of -Rome, experiencing a restful, even animating contentment in -breathing once more the atmosphere of the thronging city, -of being once more in a great center of humanity. At a familiar -corner sat an old man with an iron tripod, over which, by a -slow fire, he roasted his chestnuts, a sight well remembered, -for often had he passed him. He threw him some coins and -continued upon his way. Beyond, at his shop-door stood a -baker, deep in altercation with his patrons. From an alley -came a wine-vender with his heavy terra-cotta jars. Before -an osteria a group of pifferari piped their pastoral strains. A -few women of the sturdy, low-browed Contadini-type -hastened, basket-laden, homeward. A patrol of men-at-arms -marched down the Navona, while up a narrow tortuous lane -flitted a company of white-robed monks, bearing to some -death-bed the last consolation of the church.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto had partaken of no food since morning and nature -began to assert her rights. Finding himself at the doorway of -an inn for wayfarers, with a pretentious coat-of-arms over -the entrance, he entered unceremoniously, and seated himself -apart from the rather questionable company which patronized -the Inn of the Mermaid. Here the landlord, a burly Calabrian, -served his unknown guest with a most questionable beverage, -faintly suggestive of the product of the vintage, and viands so -strongly seasoned that they might have undertaken a -pilgrimage on their own account.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For these commodities, making due allowance for his guest's -abstracted state of mind, the uncertainty of the times and the -crowded state of the city, the host of the Mermaid only -demanded a sum equal to five times the customary charge, which -Otto paid without remonstrance, whereupon the worthy host -of the Mermaid called to witness all the saints of the calendar, -that he deserved to spend the remainder of his life in a pig-sty, -for having been so moderate in his reckoning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As one walking in a dream, Otto returned to his palace on -the Aventine. Had he wavered in the morning, had the -dictates of reason still ventured to assert themselves—the past -hour had silenced them for ever. Before his gaze floated the -image of her who had passed him in the Basilica. At the -thought of her he could hear the beating of his own heart. -Rome—the dominion of the earth—with that one to share -it—delirium of ecstasy! Would it ever be realized! Then -indeed the dream of an earthly paradise would be no mere -fable!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-queen-of-night"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE QUEEN OF NIGHT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="A" src="images/img-cap-a.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span> week had passed since Otto's -arrival in Rome. Eckhardt, -wrapped in his own dark fancies, -had only appeared at the palace -on the Aventine when -compelled to do so in the course of -his newly resumed duties. The -terrible presentiment which had -haunted him night and day -since he left the gray, bleak -winter skies of his native land, had become intensified during -the past days. Day and night he brooded over the terrible -fascination of those eyes which had laid their spell upon him, -over the amazing resemblance of the apparition to the one -long dead in her grave. And the more he pondered the heavier -grew his heart within him, and vainly he groped for a ray of -light upon his dark and lonely path, vainly for a guiding hand -to conduct him from the labyrinth of doubt and fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been a warm and sultry day. Towards evening -dark clouds had risen over the Tyrrhene Sea and spread in long -heavy banks across the azure of the sky. Sudden squalls of -rain swept down at short intervals, driving the people into -shelter. All the life of the streets took refuge in arcades or -within dimly lighted churches. Soon the slippery marble -pavements were deserted, and the water from the guttered -roofs dripped dolefully into overflowing cisterns. A strange -atmosphere of discomfort and apprehension lay over the city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The storm increased as evening fell. From the seclusion of -the gloomy chamber he occupied in the old weather-beaten -palace of the Pierleoni, Eckhardt looked out into the growing -darkness. The clouds chased each other wildly and the driving -rain obliterated every outline.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How long he had thus stood, he did not know. A rattle -of hailstones against the window, a gust of wind, which -suddenly blew into his face, and the lurid glare of lightning -which flashed through the ever-deepening cloud-bank, roused -Eckhardt from his reverie to a sense of reality. The lamp on -the table shed a fitful glare over the surrounding objects. -Now the deep boom of thunder reverberating through the hills -caused him to start from his listless attitude. Just as he -turned, the lamp gave a dismal crackle and went out, leaving -him in Stygian gloom. With an exclamation less reverent -than expressive, Eckhardt groped his way through the -darkness, vainly endeavouring to find a flint-stone. A flash of -lightning which came to his aid not only revealed to him the -desired object, but likewise a tall, shadowy form standing on -the threshold. From the dense obscurity which enshrouded -him, Eckhardt could not, in the intermittent flashes of -lightning, see the stranger's features, but a singular, and even to -himself quite inexplicable perversity of humour, kept him -silent and unwilling to declare his presence, although he -instinctively felt that the strange visitor, whoever he was, had -seen him. Meanwhile the latter advanced a pace or two, -paused, peered through the gloom and spoke with a voice -strangely blended with deference and irony:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Eckhardt of Meissen present?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without once taking his eyes from the individual, whose -dark form now stood clearly revealed in the lightning flashes, -which followed each other at shorter intervals, the same -strange obstinacy stiffened Eckhardt's tongue, and concealed -in the gloom, he still held his peace. But the stranger drew -nearer, till in height and breadth he seemed suddenly to -overshadow the Margrave, and once again the voice spoke:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Eckhardt of Meissen present?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am here!" the latter replied curtly, rising out of the -darkness, and striking the flint-stones, he succeeded, after -some vain efforts, in relighting the lamp. As he did so, a -tremendous peal of thunder shook the house and the stranger -precipitately retreated into the shadow of the doorway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are the bearer of a message?" Eckhardt turned -towards him, with unsteady voice. The stranger made no -move to deliver what the other seemed to expect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything in death has its counterpart in life," he replied -with a calm, passionless voice which, by its very absence of -inflection, thrilled Eckhardt strangely. "If you have the -courage—follow me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without a word the Margrave placed upon his head a skullcap -of linked mail, and after having adjusted his armour, -turned to the mysterious messenger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who bade you speak those words?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One you have seen before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your memory will tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will hear it from her own lips."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where will you lead me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Follow me and you will see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you conceal your face?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To hide the blush for the thing called man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stranger's enigmatic reply added to Eckhardt's conviction -that this night of all was destined to clear the mystery -which enshrouded his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A mighty struggle, such as he had never before known, -seemed to rend his soul, as with throbbing heart he followed -his strange guide on his mysterious errand. Thus they sped -through the storm-swept city without meeting one single -human being. At the top of the Esquiline they came to a -momentary standstill, for the storm raged with a force that -nothing could resist. Leaning for a moment against a ruined -portico, Eckhardt gazed westward over the night-wrapt city. -In the driving rain he could scarcely distinguish the huge -structures of the Flavian Amphitheatre and the palaces on the -Capitoline hill. The Janiculan Mount stood out like a darker -storm-cloud against the lowering sky, and the air was filled -with a dull moan and murmur like the breathing of a sleeping -giant. On the southern slope of the hill the wind attacked -them with renewed fury, and the blasts howled up the Clivus -Martis and the Appian Way. The region seemed completely -deserted. Only a solitary travelling chariot rolled now and -then, clattering, over the stones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The road gradually turned off to the right. The dark mass -to their left was the tomb of the Scipios and there in front, -hardly visible in the darkness of night, rose the arch of Drusus, -through which their way led them. Eckhardt took care to -note every landmark which he passed, to find the way, should -occasion arise, without his guide. The latter, constantly -preceding him, took no note of the Margrave's scrutiny, but -continued unequivocally upon his way, leaving it to Eckhardt to -follow him, or not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A blinding flash of lightning illumined the landscape far -away to the aqueducts and the Alban hills, followed by a -deafening peal of thunder. The uproar of the elements for a time -shook Eckhardt's resolution.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just then he heard the clanging of a gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An intoxicating perfume of roses and oleander wooed his -bewildered senses as his guide conducted him through a -labyrinthine maze of winding paths. Only an occasional gleam of -lightning revealed to the Margrave that they traversed a garden -of considerable extent. Now the shadowy outlines of a vast -structure, illumined in some parts, appeared beyond the dark -cypress avenue down which they strode at a rapid pace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly Eckhardt paused, addressing his guide: "Where -am I, and why am I here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stranger turned, regarding him intently. Then he replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have nothing to add to my errand. If you fear to follow -me, there is yet time to retreat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had he played upon a point less sensitive, Eckhardt might -have turned his back even now upon the groves, whose whispering -gloom was to him more terrible than the din of battle, and -whose mysterious perfumes exercised an almost bewildering -effect upon his overwrought senses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A moment's deliberation only and Eckhardt replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lead on! I follow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was now resolved to penetrate at every hazard the -mystery which mocked his life, his waking hours and his -dreams.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On they walked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here and there, from branch-shadowed thickets gleamed -the stone-face of a sphinx or the white column of an obelisk, -illumined by the lightnings that shot through the limitless -depth of the midnight sky. The storm rustled among the -arched branches, driving the dead and dying leaves in a mad -whirl through the wooded labyrinth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last, Eckhardt's strange guide stopped before a cypress -hedge of great height, which loomed black in the night, and -penetrating through an opening scarce wide enough for one -man, beckoned to Eckhardt to follow him. As the latter did -so he stared in breathless bewilderment upon the scene which -unfolded itself to his gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cypress hedge formed the entrance to a grotto, the -interior of which was faintly lighted by a crystal lamp of -tenderest rose lustre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment Eckhardt paused where he stood, then he -touched his head with both hands, as if wondering if he were -dreaming or awake. If it was not the work of sorcery, if he -was not the victim of some strange hallucination, if it was -not indeed a miracle—what was it? He gazed round, -awe-struck, bewildered. His guide had disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The denizen of the grotto, a woman reclining on a divan, -like a goddess receiving the homage of her worshippers, was -the image of the one who had gone from him for ever, and the -longer his gaze was riveted on this enchanting counterfeit of -Ginevra, the more his blood began to seethe and his senses to -reel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly he moved toward the enchantress, who from her -half-reclining position fixed her eyes in a long and questioning -gaze upon the new-comer, a gaze which thrilled him through -and through. He dared not look into those eyes, which he felt -burning into his. His head was beginning to spin and his -heart to beat with a strange sensation of wonderment and fear. -Never till this hour had he seen Ginevra's equal in beauty, -and now that it broke on his vision, it was with the face, the -form, the hair, the eyes, the hands, of the woman so passionately -loved. Only the face was more pale—even with the pallor -of death, and there was something in the depths of those eyes -which he had never seen in Ginevra's. But the light, the -perfume, the place and the seductive beauty of the woman before -him, garbed as she was in a filmy, transparent robe of silvery -tissue, which clung like a pale mist about the voluptuous -curves of her body, flowing round her like the glistening waves -of a cascade, began to play havoc with his senses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Welcome, stranger, in the Groves of Enchantment," she -spoke, waving her beautiful snowy arms toward her visitor. -"I rejoice to see that your courage deserves the welcome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was an undercurrent of laughter in her musical tones, -as she pointed to a seat by her side. Unable to answer, unable -to resist, Eckhardt moved a few paces nearer. His brain whirled. -For a moment Ginevra's image seemed forgotten in the -contemplation of the rival of her dead beauty. A wild, desperate -longing seized him. On a sudden impulse he turned away, -in a dizzy effort to escape from the mesmeric gleam of -those sombre, haunting eyes, which pierced the very depths of -his soul. Fascinated, at the same time repelled, his very soul -yearned for her whose embrace he knew was destruction and -he was filled with a strange sudden fear. There was something -terrible in the steadfast contemplation which the woman -bestowed upon him,—something that seemed to lie outside -the pale of human passions, and the pallor of her exquisite -face seemed to increase in proportion as the devouring fire of -her eyes burnt more intensely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you afraid of me?" she laughed, raising her arms -and holding them out toward him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still he hesitated. His breast heaved madly as his eyes met -those, which swam in a soft languor, strangely intoxicating. -Her lips parted in a faint sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eckhardt," she said tremulously, "Eckhardt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she paused as if to watch the effect of her words upon -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mute, oppressed by indistinct hovering memories, Eckhardt -fed his gaze on her seductive fairness, but a terrible pain and -anguish gnawed at his heart. Not only the face, even the voice -was that of Ginevra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything in death has its counterpart in life:"—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That had been the pass-word to her presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One devouring look—and forgetting all fear and warning -and all presence of mind he rushed towards that flashing -danger-signal of beauty, that seemed to burn the very air -encompassing it, that living image of his dead wife, and with -wild eyes, outstretched arms and breathless utterance, he -cried: "Ginevra!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She whom he thus called turned toward him, as he came -with the air of a madman upon her, and her marvellous -loveliness, as she raised her dark eyes questioningly to his, -checked his impetuous haste, held him tongue-tied, bewildered -and unmanned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And truly, nothing more beautiful in the shape of woman -could be imagined than she. Her fairness was of that rare and -subtle type which has in all ages overwhelmed reason, blinded -judgment and played havoc with the passions of men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well did she know her own surpassing charm and thoroughly -did she estimate the value of her fatal power to lure and to -madden and to torture all whom she chose to make the victim -of her almost resistless attraction. Her hair, black as night, -was arranged loosely under a jewelled coif. Her eyes, large -and brilliant, shone from under brows delicately arched. Her -satin skin was of the creamy, colourless, Southern type, in -startling contrast to the brilliant scarlet of the small bewitching -mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beautiful and delicate as the ensemble was, there was in -that enchanting face a lingering expression, which a woman -would have hated and a man would have feared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ginevra!" Eckhardt cried, then he checked himself, for, -her large eyes, suddenly cold as the inner silence of the sea, -surveyed him freezingly, as though he were some insolently -obtrusive stranger. But her face was pale as that of a corpse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ginevra!" he faltered for the third time, his senses reeling -and he no longer master of himself. "Surely you know -me—Eckhardt,—him whose name you have just called! Speak -to me, Ginevra—speak! By all the love I have borne for -you—speak, Ginevra,—speak!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shadow flitted through the background and paused behind -Theodora's couch. Neither had seen it, though Theodora -shuddered as if she had felt the strange presence of something -uncalled, unbidden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange light of mockery, or of annoyance, gleamed in the -woman's eyes. Her crimson lips parted, showing two rows of -even, small white teeth, then a gleam of amusement shot -athwart her face, raising the delicately pencilled corners of the -eye-brows, as she broke into a soft peal of careless mocking -laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not Ginevra," she said. "Who is Ginevra? I am -Theodora—the Queen of Love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again, as she saw his puzzled look, she gave way to her -silvery, mocking mirth, while her eyes flung him a glittering -challenge to approach. Eckhardt had recovered partial -control over his feelings and met her taunting gaze steadfastly -and with something of sadness. His face had grown very -pale and all the warmth and rapture had died out of his voice, -when he spoke again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am Eckhardt," he said quietly, with the calm of a -madman who argues for a fixed idea,—"and you are Ginevra—or -her ghost—I know not which. Why did you return to the -world from your cold and narrow bed in the earth and shun the -man who worships you as one worships an idol? Is it for -some transgression in the flesh that your soul cannot find -rest?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An ominous shuffling behind her caused Theodora to start. -She turned her head as if by chance and when again she -faced Eckhardt, she was as pale as death. Noting her -momentary embarrassment, Eckhardt made a resolute step toward -her, catching her hands in his own. He was dazed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this your welcome back in the world, Ginevra?" he -pleaded with a passionate whisper. "Have you no thought -what this long misery apart from you has meant? Remember -the old days,—the old love,—have pity—speak to me as -of old."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His voice in its very whisper thrilled with the strange music -that love alone can give. His eyes burnt and his lips quivered. -Suddenly he seemed to wake to a realization of the scene. -He had been mocked by a fatal resemblance to his dead -wife. His heart was heavy with the certainty, but the spell -remained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without warning he threw himself on his knees, holding -her unresisting hands in his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Demon or Goddess," he faltered, and his voice, even to -his own ears, had a strange sound. "What would you have -with me? Speak, for what purpose did you summon me? -Who are you? What do you want with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her low laugh stirred the silence into a faint tuneful echo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Foolish dreamer," she murmured half tenderly, half -mockingly. "Is it not enough for you to know that you have -been found worthy to join the few chosen ones to whom -this earthly paradise is not a book with seven seals? Like -your sad-eyed, melancholy countrymen, you would analyze -the essence of love and try to dissolve it into its own -heterogeneous particles. If you were given the choice of the fairest -woman you would descend into the mouldering crypts of the -past, to unearth the first and last Helen of Troy. Ah! Is it -not so? You Northmen prefer a theoretical attachment to -the body of living, breathing, loving woman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her surprised, perplexed, and paused an -instant before he made reply. Was she mocking him? Did she -speak truth?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely so peerless an enchantress, with admirers so -numerous, cannot find it worth her while to add a new -worshipper to the idolatrous throng?" he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Little you know," she murmured indolently, with a -touch of cold disdain in her accents. "My worshippers are my -puppets, my slaves! There is not a man amongst them," she -added, raising her voice, "not a man! They kiss the hand -that spurns their touch! As for you," she added, leaning -forward, so that the dark shower of her hair brushed his -cheek and her drowsy eyes sank into his own, "As for you—you -are from the North.—I love a nature of strongly repressed -and concentrated passion, of a proud and chilly temper. -Like our volcanoes they wear crowns of ice, but fires -unquenchable smother in their depths. And—might not at -a touch from the destined hand the flame in your heart leap -forth uncontrolled?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt met the enchantress' look with one of mingled -dread and intoxication. She smiled, and raising a goblet of -wine to her lips, kissed the brim and gave it to him with an -indescribably graceful swaying gesture of her whole form, -which resembled a tall white lily bending to the breeze. He -seized the cup eagerly and drank thirstily from it. Again her -magic voice, more melodious than the sounds of Æolian harps -thrilled his ears and set his pulses to beating madly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you have not yet told me," she whispered, while her -head drooped lower and lower, till her dark fragrant tresses -touched his brow, "you have not yet told me that you love me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was it the purple wine that was so heavy on his senses? -Heavier was the drowsy spell of the enchantress' eyes. -Eckhardt started up. His heart ached with the memory of Ginevra, -and a dull pang shot through his soul. But the spell that was -upon him was too heavy to be broken by human effort. Nothing -short of the thunder of Heaven could save him now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora's words chimed in his ear, while her hands clasped -his own with their soft, electrifying touch. With a supreme -effort he endeavoured to shake off the spell, into whose -ravishment he was being slowly but surely drawn, his efforts at -resistance growing more feeble and feeble every moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the voice of the Siren sent its musical cadence through -his brain in the fateful question:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you love me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt attempted to draw back, but could not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Entwining her body with his arms, he devoured her beauty -with his eyes. From the crowning masses of her dusky hair, -over the curve of her white shoulders and bosom, down to the -blue-veined feet in the glistening sandals, his gaze wandered -hungrily, searchingly, passionately. His heart beat with wild, -mad desire, but, though his lips moved, no words were audible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She too, was silent, apparently watching the effect of her -spell upon him, sure of the ultimate fateful result. In reality -she listened intently, as if expecting some unwelcome intrusion, -and once her dark fear-struck eyes tried to penetrate the deep -shadows of the grotto. She had heard something stir,—and -a mad fear had seized her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt, unconscious of the woman's misgivings, gazed -upon her as one dazed. He felt, if he could but speak the one -word, he would be saved and yet—something warned -him that, if that word escaped his lips, he would be lost. Half -recumbent on her couch, Theodora watched her victim narrowly. -A smile of delicate derision parted her lips, as she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What ails you? Are you afraid of me? Can you not be -happy, Eckhardt," she whispered into his brain, "happy as -other men,—and loved?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bent toward him with arms outstretched. Closely she -watched his every gesture, endeavouring, in her great fear, to -read his thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot," he replied with a moan, "alas—I cannot!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why not?" the enchantress whispered, bending -closer toward him. She must make him her own, she must -win the terrible wager; from out of the gloom she felt two -eyes burning upon her with devilish glee. She preferred -instant death to a life by the side of him she hated with all -the strength of a woman's hate for the man who has lied to -her, deceived her, and ruined her life. Noting the fateful effect -of her blandishments upon him, she threw herself with a sudden -movement against Eckhardt's breast, entwining him so -tightly with her arms that she seemed to draw the very breath -from him. Her splendid dark eyes, ablaze with passion, -sank into his, her lips curved in a sweet, deadly smile. Roused -to the very height of delirium, Eckhardt wound his arms -round Theodora's body. A dizziness had seized him. For a -moment Ginevra—past, present and future seemed forgotten. -Closer and closer he felt himself drawn towards the fateful -abyss—slowly the enchantress was drawing him onward,—until -there would be no more resistance,—all flaming delirium, -and eternal damnation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With one white arm she reached for the goblet, but ere her -fingers touched it, a shadowy hand, that seemed to come from -nowhere and belong to no visible body, changed the position -of the drinking vessels. Neither noted it. Theodora kissed the -brim of the first goblet and started to sip from its contents -when a sudden pressure on her shoulder caused her to look up. -Her terror at what she saw was so great that it choked her -utterance. Two terrible eyes gazed upon her from a white, -passion-distorted face, which silently warned her not to drink. -So great was her terror, that she noticed not that Eckhardt -had taken the goblet from her outstretched hand, and putting -it to his lips on the very place where the sweetness of her -mouth still lingered, drained it to the dregs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wild-eyed with terror she stared at the man before her. -A strange sensation had come over him. His brain seemed to -be on fire. His resistance was vanquished. He could not have -gone, had he wished to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The night was still. The silence was rendered even more -profound by the rustling of the storm among the leaves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly Eckhardt's hand went to his head. He started -to rise from his kneeling position, staggered to his feet, then as -if struck by lightning he fell heavily against the mosaic of the -floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a wild shriek of terror, Theodora had risen to her -feet—then she sank back on the couch staring speechlessly -at what was passing before her. The gaunt form of a monk, -clad in the habit of the hermits of Mount Aventine, had rushed -into the grotto, just as Eckhardt fell from the effect of the drug. -Lifting him up, as if he were a mere toy, the monk rushed out -into the open and disappeared with his burden, while four -eyes followed him in speechless dread and dismay.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-elixir-of-love"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE ELIXIR OF LOVE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-i.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t was late on the following -evening, when in the hermitage -of Nilus of Gaëta, Eckhardt -woke from the death-like stupor -which had bound his limbs since -the terrible scenes of the -previous night. Thanks to the -antidotes applied by the friar as soon -as he reached the open, the -deadly effect of the poison had -been stemmed ere it had time to penetrate Eckhardt's system, -but even despite this timely precaution, the benumbing effect -of the drug was not to be avoided, and during the time when -the stupor maintained its sway Nilus had not for a moment -abandoned the side of his patient. A burning thirst consumed -him, as he awoke. Raising himself on his elbows and vainly -endeavouring to reconcile his surroundings, the monk who was -seated at the foot of his roughly improvised bed rose and -brought him some water. It was Nilus himself, and only after -convincing himself that the state of the Margrave's condition -was such as to warrant his immediately satisfying the flood of -inquiries addressed to him, did the hermit go over the events -of the preceding night, starting from the point where Eckhardt -had lost consciousness and his own intervention had saved him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's hand went to his head which still felt heavy and -ached. His brain reeled at the account which Nilus gave him, -and there was a choking dryness in his throat when the friar -accused Theodora of the deed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For such as she the world was made. For such as she -fools and slaves abase themselves," the monk concluded his -account. "Pray that your eyes may never again behold her -accursed face."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt made no reply. What could he say in extenuation -of his presence in the groves? And by degrees, as consciousness -and memory returned, as he strained his reasoning -faculties in the endeavour to find some cause for the woman's -attempt to poison him, after having mocked him with her fatal -likeness to Ginevra—his most acute logic could not reconcile -her actions. For a moment he tried to persuade himself that -he was in a dream, and he strove in vain to wake from it. -It was amazing in what brief time and with what vividness all -that could render death terrible, and this death of all most -terrible, rushed upon his imagination. Despite the languor and -inertness which still continued, one terrible certainty rose -before him. Far from having solved the mystery, it had -intensified itself to a degree that seemed to make any further -attempt at solution hopeless. During the twilight consciousness -of his senses numerous faces swam around him,—but -of all these only one had remained with him, Ginevra's pale -and beautiful countenance, her sweet but terrible eyes. But -the ever-recurring thought was madness.—Ginevra was dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the hours spent in the seclusion of the friar's hermitage -were not entirely lost to Eckhardt. They ripened a -preconceived and most fantastic plan in his mind, which he -no sooner remembered, than he began to think seriously of -its execution.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A second night spent in Nilus's hermitage had sufficiently -restored Eckhardt's vitality to enable him to leave it on the -following morning. After having taken leave of the monk, -confessing himself his debtor for life, the Margrave chose the -road toward the Imperial palace, as his absence was likely to -give rise to strange rumours, which might retard or prevent the -task he had resolved to accomplish. He was in a state -bordering on nervous collapse, when he reached the gates of the -palace, where the Count Palatine, in attendance, ushered -him into an ante-room pending his admission to Otto's -presence. Eckhardt's thoughts were gloomy and his -countenance forbidding as he entered, and he did not notice the -presence of Benilo, the Chamberlain. When the latter glanced -up from his occupation, his countenance turned to ashen hues -and he stared at the leader of the imperial hosts as one would at -an apparition from the beyond. The hands, which held a -parchment, strangely illuminated, shook so violently that he -was compelled to place the scroll on the table before him. -Eckhardt had been so wrapt in his own dark ruminations that -he saw and heard nothing, thus giving Benilo an opportunity -to collect himself, though the stereotyped smile on the Chamberlain's -lips gave the lie to his pretense of continuing interested -in the contents of the chart which lay on the table before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Benilo's restlessness, his eagerness to acquaint himself -with the purpose of Eckhardt's visit, did not permit him to -continue the task in which the general's entrance had found him -engaged. The Chamberlain seemed undaunted by Eckhardt's -apparent preoccupation of mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have just achieved a signal victory," he addressed the -Margrave after a warm greeting, which was to veil his -misgivings, while his unsteady gaze roamed from the parchment -on the table to Eckhardt's clouded brow. "The Byzantine -ceremonial will be henceforth observed at the Imperial -court."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall it all lead to?" replied Eckhardt wearily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the fulfilment of the emperor's dream," Benilo replied -with his blandest smile, "his dream of the ten-fold crown of -Constantine Porphyrogenitus."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought the Saxon crown weighed heavily enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is because your crown is material," Benilo deigned -to expound, "not the symbolic crown of the East, which embodies -all the virtues of the gold and iron. It was a stupendous -task which confronted us—but together we have solved the -problem. In the Graphia, after much vain research and -study, and in the 'Origines' of Isidor, we found that which -shall henceforth constitute the emblem of the Holy Roman -Empire; not the Iron Crown of Lombardy, nor the Silver -Crown of Aix-la-Chapelle, nor the Golden Crown of -Rome—but all three combined with the seven of the East."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ten crowns?" exclaimed Eckhardt aghast. "On the -emperor's frail brow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay," spoke Benilo, with the same studied smile upon his -lips, while he relinquished not for a moment the basilisk gaze -with which he followed every movement of the Margrave. -"Nay! They oppress not the brow of the anointed. The -Seven Crowns of the East are: The crown of Ivy, the crown of -the Olive, the crown of Poplar Branches and Oak, the crown of -Laurels, the Mitra of Janus, the crown of the Feathers of the -Pea-fowl, and last of all the crown set with diamonds, which -Diocletian borrowed from the King of the Persians and -whereon appeared the inscription: 'Roma Caput Mundi Regit -Orbis Frena Rotundi.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt listened half dazed to this exhibition of antiquarian -learning on the part of the Chamberlain. What were these -trifles to avail the King in establishing order in the -discordant chaos of the Roman world?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Benilo was either in excellent spirits over the result of -his antiquarian researches which had made him well nigh -indispensable to Otto, and into which he condescended to -initiate so unlettered an individual as Eckhardt; or he -tormented the latter with details which he knew wearied the great -leader, to keep his mind from dwelling on dangerous matters. -Thus continuing his information on these lines with a suave -air of superiority, he cited the treatise of Pigonius concerning -the various modes of triumph and other antiquated splendours -as enumerated in the Codex, until Eckhardt's head swam with -meaningless titles and newly created offices. Even an admiral -had been appointed: Gregory of Tusculum. In truth, he had -no fleet to command, because there existed no fleet, but the -want had been anticipated. Then there were many important -offices to be filled, with names long as the ancient triumphal -course; and would not the Romans feel flattered by these -changes? Would they not willingly console themselves with -the loss of their municipal liberties, knowing that Hungary, -and Poland, Spain and Germany were to be Roman provinces -as of old?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt saw through it all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Knowing Otto's fantastic turn of mind, Benilo was guiding -him slowly but surely away from life, into the wilderness of -a decayed civilization, whose luring magic was absorbing his -vital strength. Else why this effort to rear an edifice which -must crumble under its own weight, once the architect was -removed from this hectic sphere?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the reckless enthusiasm of his character the imperial -youth had plunged into the deep ocean of learning, to whose -shores his studies with Benilo conducted him. The animated -pictures which the ponderous tomes presented, into whose -dust and must he delved, the dramatic splendour of the -narrative in which the glowing fancies of the chroniclers had -clothed the stirring events of the times, deeply impressed his -susceptible mind, just as the chords of Æolian harps are mute -till the chance breeze passes which wakes them into passionate -music. Gerbert, now Sylvester II, had no wish to stifle nor -even to stem this natural sensibility, but rather to divert its -energies into its proper channels, for he was too deeply versed -in human science not to know that even the eloquence of -religion is cold and powerless, unless kindled by those fixed -emotions and sparkling thoughts which only poetical -enthusiasm can strike out of the hard flint of logic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now the activity of Otto's genius, lacking the proper -channels, vented its wild profusion in inert speculation and -dreamy reverie. Indistinct longings ventured out on that -shimmering restless sea of love and glory, which his imagination -painted in the world, a vague yearning for the mysterious -which was hinted at in that mediæval lore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All things were possible in those legends. No scent of -autumn haunted the deep verdure of those forests, even the -harsh immutable laws of nature seemed to yield to their -magic. Death and Despair and Sorrow were but fore-shadowed -angels, not the black fiends of Northern imagery. Their heroes -and heroines died, but reclining on beds of violets, the songs of -nightingales sweetly warbling them to rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the son of the Greek princess resented fiercely any -intrusion in to his paradise. It was a thankless task to recall -him to the hour and to reality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The appearance of a page, who summoned Eckhardt into -Otto's presence, put an end to Benilo's effusive archæology, -and as the Margrave disappeared in the emperor's -cabinet, Benilo wondered how much he knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What transpired during his protracted audience remained -for the present the secret of those two. But when Eckhardt -left the palace, his brow was even more clouded than before. -While his conference with Otto had not been instrumental in -dissipating the dread misgivings which tortured his mind, he -had found himself face to face with the revelation that a -fraud had been perpetrated upon him. For Otto disclaimed all -knowledge of signing any order which relieved Eckhardt of -his command, flatly declaring it a forgery. While its purpose -was easy to divine, the question remained whose interest -justified his venturing so desperate a chance? Eckhardt parted -from his sovereign with the latter's full approval of the course -his leader intended to pursue, and so far from granting him the -dispensation once desired, Otto did not hesitate to pronounce -the vision which had interposed at the fatal moment between -Eckhardt and the fulfilment of his desire, a divine interposition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly the day drew to a close. The eve of the great festival -approached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When darkness finally fell over the Capitoline hill, the old -palace of the Cæsars seemed to waken to a new life. In the -great reception hall a gorgeous spectacle awaited the guests. -The richly dressed crowds buzzed like a swarm of bees. Their -attires were iridescent, gorgeous in fashions borrowed from -many lands. The invasion of foreigners and the enslavement -of Italy could be read in the garbs of the Romans. The robes -of the women, fashioned after the supreme style of Constantinople, -hanging in heavy folds, stiff with gold and jewels, -suggested rather ecclesiastical vestments. The hair was -confined in nets of gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania, the consort of the Senator of Rome, was by -common accord the queen of the festival which this night -was to usher in. Attracting, as she did on every turn, the eyes -of heedless admirers, her triumphant beauty seemed to have -chosen a fit device in the garb which adorned her, some filmy -gossamer web of India, embroidered with moths burning their -wings in flame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whether or no she was conscious of the lavish admiration -of the Romans, her eyes, lustrous under the dark tresses, were -clear and cold; her smile calm, her voice, as she greeted the -arriving guests, melodious and thrilling like the tones of a -harp. Amid the noise and buzz, she seemed a being apart, -alien, solitary, like a water lily on some silent moon-lit pool. -At last a loud fanfare of trumpets and horns announced the -arrival of the German king. Attended by his suite the son of -Theophano, whose spiritualized beauty he seemed to have -inherited, received the homage of the Senator of Rome, the -Cavalli, Caetani, Massimi and Stephaneschi. Stephania was -standing apart in a more remote part of the hall, surrounded -by women of the Roman nobility. Her face flushed and paled -alternately as she became aware of the commotion at the -entrance. The airy draperies of summer, which revealed rather -than concealed her divine beauty, gave her the appearance of -a Circe, conquering every heart at sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she slowly advanced toward the imperial circle, with the -three appropriate reverences in use, the serene composure of -her countenance made it seem as if she had herself been born -in purple. But as Otto's gaze fell upon the consort of the -Senator of Rome, he suddenly paused, a deep pallor chasing -the flush of joy from the beardless face. Was she not the -woman he had met at the gates of the confessional? A great -pain seized his heart as the thought came to him, that she of -whom he had dreamed ever since that day, she in whose love -he had pictured to himself a heaven, was the consort of another. -Before him stood Stephania, the wife of his former foe, the wife -of the Senator of Rome. And as he gazed into her large limpid -eyes, at the exquisite contour of her head, at the small crimson -lips, the clear-cut beauty of the face, of the tint of richest -Carrara marble, Otto trembled. Unable to speak a word, -fearful lest he might betray his emotions, he seized the white, -firm hand which she extended to him with a bewitching smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So we are to behold the King's majesty, at last," she -said with a voice whose very accent thrilled him through and -through. "I thought you were never going to do us that -honour,—master of Rome, and master—of Rome's mistress."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her speech, as she bent slightly toward him, whispering -rather than speaking the last words, filled Otto's soul with -intoxication. Stunned by the manner of his reception, her -mysterious words still ringing in his ears, Otto muttered a -reply, intelligible to none but herself, nerving his whole nature -to remain calm, though his heart beat so loudly that he thought -all present must hear its wild throbs even through his imperial -vestments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As slowly, reluctantly he retreated from her presence, to -greet the rest of the assembled guests, Otto marked not the -meaning-fraught exchange of glances between the Senator of -Rome and his wife. The smiles of the beautiful women around -him were as full of warning as the scowls of a Roman mob. -Once or twice Otto gazed as if by chance in the direction of -Stephania. Each time their eyes met. Truly, if the hatred of -Crescentius was a menace to his life, the favour of Stephania -seemed to summon him to dizzy, perilous heights.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last the banquet was served, the company seated and -amidst soft strains of music, the festival took its course. Otto -now had an opportunity to study in detail the galaxy of profligate -courtiers and beauties, which shed their glare over the -sunset of Crescentius's reign. But so absorbed was he in the -beauty of Stephania, that, though he attempted to withdraw his -eyes, lest their prolonged gaze should attract observation, still -they ever returned with increased and devouring eagerness -to feast upon her incomparable beauty, while with a strange -agony of mingled jealousy and anger he noted the court paid -to the beautiful wife of Crescentius by the Roman barons, -chief among them Benilo. It seemed, as if the latter wanted -to urge the king to some open and indiscreet demonstration -by the fire of his own admiration, and, dear as he was to his -heart, Otto heaved a sigh of relief at the thought that he had -guarded his secret, which if revealed, would place him beyond -redemption in the power of his enemy, the Senator.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania herself seemed for the nonce too much absorbed -in her own amusements to notice the emotions she had -evoked in the young king of the Germans. But when she -chanced to turn her smiling eyes from the Senator, her husband, -she suddenly met the ardent gaze of Otto riveted upon her with -burning intensity. The smile died on her lips and for a moment -the colour faded from her cheeks. Otto flushed a deep crimson -and played in affected indifference with the tassels of his -sword, and for some moments they seemed to take no further -heed of each other. What happened at the banquet, what -was spoken and the speakers, to Otto it was one whirling -chaos. He saw nothing; he heard nothing. The gaze of -Stephania, the wife of Crescentius, had cast its spell over him -and there was but one thought in his mind,—but one dream -in his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the request of some one, some of the guests changed their -seats. Otto noted it not. Peals of laughter reverberated -through the high arched Sala; some one recited an ode on -the past greatness of Rome, followed by loud applause; to -Otto it was a meaningless sound. Suddenly he heard his own -name from lips whose tones caused him to start, as if electrified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania sat by his side. Crescentius seemed conversing -eagerly with some of the barons. Raising her arm, white as -fallen snow, she poured a fine crimson wine into a goblet, -until it swelled to the golden brim. There was a simultaneous -bustle of pages and attendants, offering fruits and wine to the -guests, and Otto mechanically took some grapes from a salver -which was presented to him, but never for a moment averted -his gaze from Stephania, until she lifted the goblet to her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To thee!" she whispered with a swift glance at Otto, which -went to his heart's core. She sipped from the goblet, then, -bending to him, held it herself to his lips. His trembling hands -for a moment covered her own and he drank strangely deep of -the crimson wine, which made his senses reel, and in the trance -in which their eyes met, neither noticed the sphinx-like -expression on the face of Benilo, the Grand Chamberlain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But if the wine, of which Otto had partaken with Stephania, -was not in reality compounded of magic ingredients, the most -potent love philtre could scarcely have been more efficacious. -For the first time it seemed as if he had yielded up his whole -soul and being to the fascination of marvellous beauty, and with -such loveliness exhausting upon him all its treasures of infinite -charm, wit and tenderness, stirred by every motive of triumph -and rivalry,—even if a deceptive apology had not worked in -his own mind, it would scarcely have been possible to resist -the spell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The banquet passed off in great splendour, enlivened by the -most glittering and unscrupulous wit. Thousands of lamps -shed their effulgence on the scene, revealing toward the end a -fantastic pageant, descending the grand stair-case to some -equally strange and fantastic music. It was a procession of -the ancient deities; but so great was the illiterate state of mind -among the Romans of that period, that the ideas they -represented of the olden time were hopelessly perplexed and an -antiquarian, had there been one present, would have thrown -up his hands in despair at the incongruous attire of the pagan -divinities who had invaded the most Christian city. During -this procession Otto's eyes for the third time sought those of -Stephania. She seemed to feel it, for she turned and her lips -responded with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The night passed like some fantastic dream, conjured up -from fairy land. And Otto carried his dreaming heart back to -the lonely palace on the Aventine.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-secret-of-the-tomb"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE SECRET OF THE TOMB</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="W" src="images/img-cap-w.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>hile the revelling on the -Capitoline hill was at its height, -Eckhardt had approached Benilo -and drawing him aside, engaged -him in lengthy conversation. -The Chamberlain's countenance -had lost its studied calm and -betrayed an amazement which -vainly endeavoured to vent -itself in adequate utterance. He -appeared to offer a strenuous opposition to Eckhardt's request, -an opposition which yielded only when every argument seemed -to have failed. At last they had parted, Eckhardt passing -unobserved to a terrace and gaining a path that led through -an orange grove behind the Vatican gardens. A few steps -brought him to a gate, which opened on a narrow vicolo. -Here he paused and clapped his hands softly together. The -signal was repeated from the other side and Eckhardt thereupon -lifted the heavy iron latch, which fastened the gate on -the inner side and, passing out, carefully closed it behind him. -Here he was joined by another personage wrapt in a long, dark -cloak, and together they proceeded through a maze of dark, -narrow and unfrequented alleys. Lane after lane they -traversed, all unpaved and muddy. Another ten minutes' walk -between lightless houses, whose doors and windows were for -the most part closed and barred, and they reached an old -time-worn dwelling with a low unsightly doorway. It was secured -by strong fastenings of bolts and bars, as though its tenant -had sufficient motives for affecting privacy and retirement. -The very nature of his calling would however have secured him -from intrusion either by day or by night, from any one not -immediately in need of his services. For here lived Il Gobbo, -the grave digger, a busy personage in the Rome of those days. -Eckhardt and his companion exchanged a swift glance as they -approached the uncanny dwelling; eyeless, hoary with -vegetation, rooted here and there, the front of the house gave no -welcome. Eckhardt whispered a question to his companion, -which was answered in the affirmative. Then he bade him -knock. After a wait of brief duration, the summons was -answered by a low cough within. Shuffling footsteps were -heard, then the unbarring of a door, followed by the creaking -of hinges, and the low bent figure of an old man appeared. -Il Gobbo, the grave digger wore a loose gray tunic, which reached -to his knees. What was visible of his countenance was cadaverous -and ashen gray, as that of a corpse. His small rat-like -eyes, whose restless vigilance argued some deficiency or warping -of the brain, a tendency, however remote, to insanity, scrutinized -the stranger with marked suspicion, while a long nose, curving -downward over a projecting upper lip, which seemed in -perpetual tremor, imbued his countenance with something -strangely Mephistophelian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a very few words Eckhardt's companion requested -the grave digger to make ready and follow them, and -that worthy, seeing nothing strange in a summons of -this sort, complied at once, took pick and spade, and -after having locked and barred his habitation, asked his -solicitor to which burial grounds he was to accompany them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To San Pancrazio," was Eckhardt's curt reply. The -silence had become almost insufferable to him, and something -in the manner of his speech caused the grave digger to -bestow on him a swift glance. Then he preceded them in silence -on the well-known way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a wonderful night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was not a breath of air to stir the dying leaves of -the trees. The clouds, which had risen at sunset in the West, -had vanished, leaving the sky unobscured, arching deep blue -over the yellow moon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they approached the Ripetta, the grave digger suddenly -paused and, facing the Margrave and his companion, inquired -where the corpse was awaiting them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A strange, jarring laugh broke from Eckhardt's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never fear, my honest friend! It is a very well conditioned -corpse, that will play us no pranks and run away. Corpses -do sometimes—so I have been told. What think you, honest -Il Gobbo?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The grave digger bestowed a glance upon his interlocutor, -which left little doubt as to what he thought of his patron's -sanity, then he crossed himself and hastened onward. The -Tiber lay now on their left, and an occasional flash revealed -the turbid waves rolling down toward the sea in the moonlight. -Eckhardt and his companion exchanged not a word, as silently -they strode behind their uncanny guide. On their left hand -now appeared the baths of Caracalla, their external -magnificence slowly crumbling to decay, waterless and desolate. -Towering on their right rose the Caelian hill in the moonlight, -covered with ruins and neglected gardens. The rays of the -higher rising moon fell through the great arches of the Neronian -Aqueduct and near by were the round church of St. Stephen -and a cloister dedicated to St. Erasmus. As they proceeded -over the narrow grass-grown road, the silence which -encompassed them was as intense as among the Appian sepulchres. -At the gate of San Sebastiano, all traces of the road vanished. -A winding path conducted them through a narrow valley, -the silence of which was only broken by the occasional hoot of -an owl, or the flitting across their path of a bat, which like an -evil thought, seemed afraid of its own shadow. Then they -passed the ancient church of Santa Ursula, which for many -years formed the center of a churchyard. The path became -more sterile and desolate with every step, only a few dwarfish -shrubs breaking the monotony, to make it appear even more -like a wilderness, until they came upon a ruined wall, and -following its course for some distance, reached a heavy iron gate. -It gave a dismal, creaking sound as Il Gobbo pushed it -open and entered the churchyard of San Pancrazio in advance -of his companions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pausing ere he continued upon a way as yet unknown to -him, he again turned questioningly toward his mysterious -summoners, for as far as his eye could reach in the bright -moonlight, he could discover no trace of a funeral cortege or -ever so small number of mourners. Instead of satisfying -Il Gobbo's curiosity, Eckhardt briefly ordered him to follow him, -and the grave digger, shaking his head with grave doubt, followed -the mysterious stranger, who seemed so familiar with this -abode of Death. They traversed the churchyard at a rapid -pace, until they reached a mortuary chapel situated in a remote -region. Here Eckhardt and his companion paused, and the -former, turning about and facing Il Gobbo, pointed to a grave -in the shadows of the chapel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Know you this grave?" the Margrave accosted the -grave digger, pointing to the grass-plot at his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The grave digger seemed to grope through the depths of his -memory; then he bent low as if to decipher the inscription -on the stone, but this effort was in so far superfluous, as he -could not read.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here lies one Ginevra,—the wife of the German Commander—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, again searching his memory, but this time in vain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eckhardt," supplied the Margrave himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eckhardt—Eckhardt," the grave digger echoed, crossing -himself at the sound of the dreaded name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Open the grave!" Eckhardt broke into Il Gobbo's babbling, -who had been wondering to what purpose he had been brought -here.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Il Gobbo stared up at the speaker as if he mistrusted his -hearing, but made no reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Open the grave!" Eckhardt repeated, leaning upon his -sword.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Il Gobbo shook his head. No doubt the man was mad; -else why should he prefer the strange request? He looked -questioningly at Eckhardt's companion, as if expecting the -latter to interfere. But he moved not. A strange fear began -to creep over the grave digger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is a purse of gold, enough to dispel the qualms of your -conscience," Eckhardt spoke with terrible firmness in his -tones, offering Il Gobbo a leather purse of no mean size. But -the latter pushed it back with abhorrence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot—I dare not. Who are you to prefer this -strange request?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am Eckhardt, the general! Open the grave!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Il Gobbo cringed as though he had been struck a blow from -some invisible hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare not—I dare not," he whined, deprecating the -proffered gift. "The sin would be visited upon my head.—It -is written: Disturb not the dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A terrible look passed into Eckhardt's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this purse not heavy enough? I will add another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not that—it is not that," Il Gobbo replied, almost -weeping with terror. "I dread the vengeance of the -dead! They will not permit the sacrilege to pass unpunished."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then let the punishment fall on my head!" replied Eckhardt -with terrible voice. "Take your spade, old man, for -by the Almighty God who looks down upon us, you will not -leave this place alive, unless you do as you are told."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old grave digger trembled in every limb. Helplessly -he gazed about; imploringly he looked up into the face of -Eckhardt's immobile companion, but he read nothing in the -eyes of these two, save unrelenting determination. Instinctively -he knew that no argument would avail to deter them from their -mad purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt watched the old man closely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You dug this grave yourself, three years ago," he then -spoke in a tone strangely mingled of despair and irony. "It -is a poor grave digger who permits his dead to leave their cold -and narrow berth and go forth among the living in the form -they bore on earth! It has been whispered to me," he -continued with a terrible laugh, "that some of your graves are -shallow. I would fain be convinced with my own eyes, just -to be able to give your calumniators the lie! Therefore, good -Il Gobbo, take up your spade with all speed, and imagine, as -you perform your task, that you are not opening this grave to -disturb the repose of her who sleeps beneath the sod, but -preparing a reception to one still in the flesh! Proceed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The last word was spoken with such menace that the grave -digger reluctantly complied, and taking up the spade, which -he had dropped, he pushed it slowly into the sod. Leaning -silently on his sword, his face the pallor of death, Eckhardt and -his companion watched the progress of the terrible work, -watched one shovel of earth after the other fly up, piling up -by the side of the grave; watched the oblong opening grow -deeper and deeper, till after a breathless pause of some duration -the spade of the grave digger was heard to strike the top of the -coffin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Il Gobbo, who all but his head stood now in the grave, -looked up imploringly to Eckhardt, hoping that at the last -moment he would desist from the terrible sacrilege he was -about to commit. But when he read only implacable determination -in the commander's face, he again turned to his task -and continued to throw up the earth until the coffin stood free -and unimpeded in its narrow berth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot raise it up," the old man whined. "It is too heavy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will assist you! Out it shall come if all the devils in -hell clung to it from beneath. Bring your ropes and bring them -quickly! Hear you?" thundered Eckhardt in a frenzy. -His self-enforced calm was fast giving way before the terrible -ordeal he was passing through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would it not be safer to go down and open the lid?" -questioned Eckhardt's companion, for the first time breaking -the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is not room enough,—unless the berth is widened," -Eckhardt replied. Then he turned to Il Gobbo, who was -slowly scrambling out of the grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Widen the berth—we will come down to you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The grave digger returned to his task; then after a time, -which seemed eternity to those waiting above, his head again -appeared in the opening. One shovel of earth after another -flew up at the feet of Eckhardt and his companion. Again -and again they heard the spade strike against the coffin, till -at last something like a groan out of the gloom below informed -them that the task had been accomplished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you any tools?" Eckhardt shouted to Il Gobbo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None to serve that end," stammered the grave digger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then take your spade and prise the lid open!" cried -Eckhardt. He was trembling like an aspen, and his breath -came hard through his half-closed lips. The expression of -his face and his demeanour were such as to vanquish the last -scruples of Il Gobbo, who belaboured the coffin with much good -will, which was mocked by the result, for it seemed to have -been hermetically sealed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After waiting some time in deadly, harrowing suspense, -Eckhardt addressed his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate to abase my good sword for such a purpose,—but -the coffin shall be opened." And without warning he bounded -down into the grave, while Il Gobbo, thinking his last moment -at hand, had dropped pick and spade, and stood, more dead -than alive, at the foot of the grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Picking up the grave digger's spade, Eckhardt dealt the coffin -such a terrific blow that he splintered its top to atoms. A -second blow completely severed the lid, and it lurched heavily -to one side, lodging between the coffin and the earth wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ensuing silence was intense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moon, which had risen high in the heavens, illumined -with her beams the chasm in which Eckhardt stood, bending -over the coffin. What his eyes beheld was too terrible for words -to express. Only one tress of dark silken hair had escaped -the dread havoc of death, which the open coffin revealed. It -was a sight such as would cause the blood to freeze in the veins -of the bravest. It was the visible execution of the judgment -pronounced in the garden of Eden: "Dust thou art, and to -dust thou shall return."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only one dark silken tress of all that splendour of body and -youth!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt leaped from the grave and stood aside, leaving -it for his companion to give his final instructions to -Il Gobbo, the grave digger, and the reward for his night's -labour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they strode from the churchyard of San Pancrazio, -neither spoke. The havoc of death, which Eckhardt's eyes -had beheld, the contrast between the image of Ginevra, such -as it lived in his memory, and the sight which had met his -eyes, had re-opened every wound in his heart. No beam of -hope, no thought of heavenly mercy, penetrated the night of -his soul. His heart seemed steel-cased and completely walled -up. He could not even shed a tear. One hour had worked a -dreadful transformation. Silently the Margrave and his -companion left the churchyard. Silently they turned toward the -city. At the base of Aventine, Benilo parted from Eckhardt, -himself more dead than alive, promising to see him on the -following day. He dared not trust himself even to ask Eckhardt -what he had seen. There would be time enough when his -terrible frenzy had subsided.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Eckhardt continued upon his way, he grew more calm. -The feast of Death, which he had dared to break into, while -for a time completely stupefying him with its horrors, seemed -at least to have brought proof positive, that whoever Ginevra's -double, it was not Ginevra returned to earth. There was much -in that thought to comfort his soul, and after the fresh air of -night had cooled his fevered brow, saner reflections began to -gain sway over his whirling brain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But they did not endure. What he had seen proved nothing. -Another body might have been substituted in the coffin. The -supposition was monstrous indeed—yet even the wildest -surmises seemed justified when thrown in the scales against -the fatal likeness of the woman who had drawn him from the -altars of Christ, had frustrated his design to become a monk, -and had, as he believed, attempted his life. Could he but find -the monk who had conducted the last rites! He had searched -for him in every cloister and sanctuary in Rome, yet all those -of whom he inquired disclaimed all knowledge of his abode. -Several times the thought had recurred to Eckhardt of returning -to the Groves, to seek a second interview with the woman, -and thus for ever to silence his doubts. But a strange dread -had assailed and restrained him from the execution. There -was something in the woman's eyes he had never seen in -Ginevra's, and he felt that he would inevitably succumb, -should he ever again stand face to face with her. He almost -wished that he had followed Benilo's advice,—that he had -refrained from an act prompted by frenzy and despair. Vain -regrets! He must find the monk, if he was still in Rome. -Though everything and everybody seemed to have conspired -against him nothing should bend him from his course.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-grottos-of-egeria"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE GROTTOS OF EGERIA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="F" src="images/img-cap-f.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>or the following day the -Senator of Rome had arranged a -Festival of Pan, and the place -appointed for the divertissement -was one which the Seneschal of -the Decameron might have -chosen as fit for the reception of -his luxurious masters, where -every object was in harmony with -the delicious and charmed existence -which they had devised in defiance of Death. Arcades of -vines, bright with the gold and russet foliage of autumn, ascended -in winding terraces to a height, on which they converged, -forming a spacious canopy over an expanse of brightest emerald -turf, inlaid with a mosaic of flowers. In the centre there was -a fountain, which sent its spray to a great height in the clear -air, refreshing soul and body with the harmony of its waters. -Between the interstices of the vines, magnificent views of the -whole surrounding country were offered to the eye, to which -feature perhaps, or to the effect of a dazzling variety of -late roses, which grew among the vines, and the lofty cypresses -which made the elevation a conspicuous object in every -direction, it owes its present designation of Belvedere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania's spell had worked powerfully on its intended -victim. Surrounded by everything which could kindle the -fires of Love and stimulate the imagination, exposed to the -influence of her marvellous beauty and the infinite charm of -her individuality, Otto was devoured by a passion, which -hourly increased, despite the struggle which he put forth to -resist it. Stephania's absence had taught him how necessary -she had become to his existence, and although he was well -informed that she rarely quitted Castel San Angelo, he was yet -tortured by the wildest fancies, entirely oblivious that he had -given all his youth, his love, his heart to a beautiful -phantom,—the wife of another, who could never be his own. And though -he endeavoured to reason with his madness, though he questioned -himself where it would lead to, in what strange manner -he had absorbed the poison which rioted in his system, it was -of no avail. The dictates of Fate vanquish the paltry laws -of mortals. This love had come to him unbidden—uncalled. -Why must the soul remain for ever isolated when the unbounded -feast of beauty was spread to all the senses? And was it not -too late to retreat? It was the last trump of the tempter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He won.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he approached the Minotaurus, Otto's hope brightened -with the tints of the rainbow. For the first time since his -return from Monte Gargano he had discarded his usual cumbrous -habiliments, and though his garb was still that prescribed -by the court ceremonial, it added much to display his princely -person to advantage. Confiding much more in the secrecy of -his movements than in the protection of his attendants, Otto -had left the palace on the Aventine unobserved and arrived in -the vale of Egeria with a whirl of passion and a rush of -recollections, which not only took from him all power, but every -wish of resistance,—a far more dangerous symptom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania's duenna was in waiting and informed him that -the latter had dismissed her ladies to amuse themselves at -their pleasure in the gardens, while Stephania herself was -wreathing a garland for the evening in the Egerian Grotto, -which formed the centre of the fantastic labyrinth called the -Minotaurus, from an antique statue of the monster which -adorned it. Slipping a ring of great value on the old dame's -finger, as a testimony, he said, of his gratitude, for watching -over her mistress, Otto hastened onward. His heart beat so -heavily when he came within view of the rose-matted arches -leading to the ancient grotto, that he was obliged to pause to -recover his breath. At that moment a voice fell upon his ear, -but it was not the voice of Stephania, and with a feeling almost -of suffocation in the intensity of his passion, Otto drew aside -the foliage to ascertain whether or not his senses had belied him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The figure of the Minotaurus was cast in bronze, a monstrous -bull, crouched, head to the ground, on the marble pavement -of the temple. Passing the statue, Otto made for the -grotto indicated by his guide, and, raising the tapestry of ivy, -which concealed it, disappeared within. Guided by the warm -evening light to its entrance, he hesitated as if apprehending -some treachery. Then, with quick determination he groped -his way into the cavern, paused somewhat suddenly and looked -about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was deserted, but a faint glimmer lured him to the -background, where a fountain gleamed in the purple twilight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rash mortal," said a voice, in tones that made his heart -jump to his throat, "I think you are now as near as devout -worshippers are wont to approach to my waves, though, as -one of the initiated, the vestal nymphs of these caves bid you -very welcome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have kept my faith," Otto replied, pausing before the -veiled apparition which sat on the rim of the fountain. "But -your veil hides you as effectually from my gaze as a mountain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His agitation betrayed itself in his wavering tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you afraid," she asked, noting his hesitancy, "lest I -should prove the fiend who tempted Cyprianus?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All fears redouble in the darkness. Let me see your face!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why have you come here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why have you summoned me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps to test your courage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear nothing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One word of mine, one gesture,—and you are my prisoner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto remained standing. His face was pale, but no trace of -fear appeared thereon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I trust you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a Roman,—and your enemy! I am the enemy of -your people!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I trust you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose I had lured you hither to end for ever this -unbearable state?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I trust you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania's eyes cowered beneath Otto's gaze. Rising -abruptly she averted her head, but every trace of colour had -left her face as she raised the veil. Then she turned slowly and -extended her hand. Otto grasped it, pressing it to his lips -in an ecstasy of joy, then he drew her down to the seat she had -abandoned, kneeling by her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment she gazed at him thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want of me?" she then asked abruptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would have you be my friend," he stammered, -idol-worship in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is a woman's friendship so rare a commodity, that you -come to me?" she replied, drawing her hand from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never known woman's love nor friendship,—and -it is yours I want."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania drew a long breath. Truly,—it required no -effort on her part to lead him on. He made her task an easy -one. Yet there rose in her heart a spark of pity. The complete -trust of this boy-king was to the wife of Crescentius a novel -sensation in the atmosphere of doubt and suspicion in which -she had grown up. It was almost a pity to shatter the temple -in which he had placed her as goddess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mood held sway but a moment, then with a cry of -delirious gayety, she wrote the word "Friendship" rapidly -on the water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look," she said, "scarcely a ripple remains! That is -the end. Let us but add another word, 'Farewell'—and -let the trace it shall leave tell when we shall meet again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words died on Otto's lips. He could not fathom the -lightning change which had come over her. With mingled -sadness and passion he gazed upon the lovely face, so pale and -cold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us not part thus," he stammered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania had risen abruptly, shaking herself free of his -kneeling form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it all to lead to?" she questioned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto rose slowly to his feet. Reeling as if stunned by a blow, -he staggered after her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not leave me thus," he begged with outstretched arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania started away from him, as if in terror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not touch me,—as you are a man—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto's hand went to his head. Was he waking? Was he -dreaming? Was this the same woman who had but a moment ago—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not time to think out the thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt his neck encircled by an airy form and arms, and lips -whose sweetness made his senses reel were breathlessly pressed -upon his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But for an evanescent instant the sensation endured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A voice whispered low: "Otto!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he tried to embrace the mocking phantom he grasped -the empty air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rushed madly forward, but at this instant there arose -a wild uproar and clamour around him. The silver moon on -the fountain burst into a blaze of whirling light, which illumined -the whole grotto. The shrill summons of a bell was to be heard -as from the depths of the fountain, and suddenly the verdant -precincts were crowded with a most extraordinary company, -shouting, hooting, laughing, yelling, and waving torches. -Satyrs, nymphs, fauns, and all varieties of sylvan deities poured -out of every nook and cranny by which there was an entrance, -all shrieking execration on the profaner of the sacred solitudes -and brandishing sundry weapons appropriate to their qualities. -The satyrs wielded their crooked staves, the fauns their stiff -pine-wreaths, the nymphs their branches of oak, and a loud -clamour arose. But by far the most formidable personages were -a number of shepherds with huge boar-spears, who made -their appearance on every side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pan! Pan!" shouted a hundred voices. "Come and -judge the mortal who has dared to profane thy solitudes. -Echo—where is Pan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Distant and faint the cry came back:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pan! Where is Pan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment Otto stood rooted to the spot, believing himself -in all truth surrounded by the rural gods of antiquity. -He stared at the scene before him as on some strange sorcery. -But suddenly a suspicion rushed upon him that he was -betrayed, either to be made the jest of a company of carnival's -revellers, or, perhaps, the object of vengeance of the Senator -of Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gazing round with a quick fear in his heart, at finding -himself thus completely surrounded, and meditating whether to -attempt a forcible escape, he was startled by the shrill shriek -of sylvan pipes and attended by a riotous company of satyrs, -Pan on his goat-legs hobbled into the grotto, the satyrs playing -a wild march on their oaken reeds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence! Where is the guilty nymph who has lured the -mortal hither?" shouted the sylvan god.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Egeria! Egeria!" resounded numerous accusing voices.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At thine old tricks again luring wisdom whither it should -least come?" questioned Pan, severely. "Yes, hide thyself -in thy blushing waves! But the mortal,—where is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here! Here!" exclaimed the nymphs with one voice. -"Had it been old Silenus or one of his satyrs,—we had not -wondered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The King! the King!" resounded on all sides amidst a -general outburst of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto became more and more convinced that the scene had -been enacted to mock him, and though he did not understand -the drift of their purpose, at which Stephania had doubtlessly -connived, a cold hand seemed to clutch his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In very truth, you have the laughing side of the jest," he -turned to the Sylvan god. "But if you will confront me with -the nymph, I will prove that at least we ought to share in equal -punishment," Otto concluded his defence, endeavouring to -make the best of his dangerous position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This shall not be!" exclaimed a nymph near by. "Bring -him along and our queen shall judge him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ere Otto could give vent to remonstrance, he found himself -hemmed in by the shepherds with their spears. His doubts -as to the ultimate purpose of the revellers seemed now to call -for some imperative decision, but while he remembered the -dismal legends of these haunts, his lips still tingled with the -magic fire of Stephania's kiss and it seemed impossible to him -that she could really mean to harm him. Still he had grave -misgivings, when suddenly a mocking voice saluted him and -into the cave strode Johannes Crescentius, Senator of -Rome,—apparently from the valley without, a smiling look of welcome -on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fear nothing, King Otto," he said jovially. "Your sentence -shall not be too severe. Your forfeit shall be light, if -you will but discover and point out to us the nymph who -usurped the part of Egeria, that we may further address -ourselves to her for her reprehensible conduct."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The feelings with which Otto listened to this beguiling and -perhaps perfidious statement may be imagined. But he -replied with great presence of mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It were a vain effort indeed to recognize one nymph from -another in the gloom. Lead on then, since it is the Senator of -Rome who guarantees my immunity from the fate of -Orpheus."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marching like a prisoner of war and surrounded by the -shepherd spearmen, Otto affected to enter into the spirit of -the jest and suffered himself quietly to be bound with chains -of ivy which the least effort could snap asunder. The moment -he stepped forth from the grotto his path was beset by a -multitude of the most extraordinary phantoms. The surrounding -woods teemed with the wildest excrescences of pagan worship; -statues took life; every tree yielded its sleeping Dryad; strange -melodies resounded in every direction; Nayades rose in the -stream and laughingly showered their spray upon him. With -a cheerful hunting blast Diana and her huntresses appeared -on an overhanging rock and darted blunt arrows with gilded -heads at him, until he arrived at an avenue of lofty elms, whose -overarching branches, filigreed by the crimson after-glow of -departing day, resembled the interior of a Gothic cathedral -and formed a natural hall of audience fit for the rural divinities. -Bosquets of orange trees, whose ivory tinted blossoms gleamed -like huge pearls out of the dark green of the foliage, wafted an -inexpressibly sweet perfume on the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vista terminated in an open, semi-circular court, -surrounded by terraces of richest emerald hue, in the midst of -which rose an improvised throne. The rising moon shone -upon it with a light, like that of a rayless sun, and Otto -discovered that the terraces were thronged with a splendid court, -assembled round a woman who occupied the throne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the prisoner approached, environed by his grotesque -captors, laughter as inextinguishable as that which shook the -ancient gods of Olympus on a similar occasion, resounded -among the occupants of the terrace. Continuing his forced -advance, Otto discovered with a strange beating of the heart -in the splendidly attired queen, Stephania, the wife of -Crescentius.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bodice of silver-tissue confined her matchless form, -which with every heave of her bosom threw iridescent gleams, -and a diadem which shone as with stars, so bright were its -jewels, flashed upon her brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked a queen indeed, and but for the ivory pallor of her -face it would have been impossible to guess that she was in any -way concerned with the object of the strange pageant, which -now approached her throne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sphinx-like countenance of the Senator of Rome seemed -to evince no very great enthusiasm in the frolic; the invited -guests appeared not to know how to look, and took their cue -from the Lord of Castel San Angelo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Otto was at last brought face to face with his fair -judge, his own pallor equalled that of Stephania, and both -resembled rather two marble statues than beings of flesh and -blood. Stephania's lips were tightly compressed, and when -Pan recited his accusation, complaining of an attempt to -profane his solitudes and to misguide one of his chastest nymphs, -so far from overwhelming the culprit with the laughing -raillery of which she was mistress and an outburst of which all -seemed to expect, Stephania was silent and kept her eyes fixed -on the ground, as if she feared to raise them and to meet -Otto's burning gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Answer, King of the Germans," urged Crescentius with -a smile, "else you are lost!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The charges are too vague," Otto replied. "Let Pan, if -he has any witness, of what has happened, allege -particulars—and if he does—by his crooked staff, -even my accusers shall -acquit me without denial on my part."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>General mutterings and suppressed laughter followed this -singular defence, during which Stephania's countenance took -all the pallid tints, which the return of his consciousness and -dignity had chased from Otto's cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she did not think it wise to prolong the scene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since the august offender," she said hastily and without -lifting her long silken lashes, "cannot discover among my -retinue the nymph who enticed him into the grotto, I pronounce -this sentence upon him: 'Let his ignorance be perpetual.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she invited him to a seat in the circle over which she -presided and her graciousness obviously caused Otto's spirits -to rise, for, starting up, as it were, into new existence at the -word, he took his station in a manner which enabled him to -see Stephania's face and her glorious eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the beck of her hand there now approached a band of -musicians and the effect of their harmonies beneath the hushed -and now star-resplendent skies was inexpressibly delicious. The -dreams of Elysium seemed to be realized. These indeed seemed -to be the happy fields, in the atmosphere of which the -delighted spirit was consoled for every woe, and as Otto almost -unwittingly gazed upon the woman before him, so passionately -loved and to him lost for ever; as he marked the languor and -melancholy which had stolen over her countenance, he could -hardly restrain himself from throwing himself and all he called -his, at her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emperor and king though he was,—the one jewel he -craved lay beyond the confines of his dominion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the conclusion of the serenade, the nymphs of Stephania's -retinue showered their flowers upon the sylvan gods, -who eagerly scrambled over them, when Stephania started up, -as from a dream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How is this?" she hurriedly exclaimed, "I still hold -my flowers? And you are all matched by the chances of the -fragrant blossoms? But King Otto is likewise without his -due share, and so it would seem that fate would have him my -companion at the collation awaiting us. Therefore, my lords -and ladies, link hands as the flow'ry oracles direct. I shall -follow last with my exalted guest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto did not remark the quick glance which flashed between -Crescentius and his wife. The ladies of Stephania's retinue -immediately conformed to the expressed wish of the hostess -by taking the arms of the cavaliers who had chanced upon -their flowers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A number of pages, beautiful as cupids, lighted the way with -torches which flamed with a perfumed lustre, and the -procession moved anew towards the grotto, where, during their -absence, a repast had been spread. But the last couple had -preceded them some twenty paces, ere Stephania, without -raising her eyes, took Otto's motionless arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The memory of all that had passed, a natural feeling of -embarrassment on both sides, prolonged the silence between -them. Stephania doubtlessly fathomed his thoughts, for she -smiled with a degree of timidity not unmingled with doubt, -as she broke the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question, though softly spoken, came swift as a dart -and equally unexpected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you ever loved, King Otto?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto looked up with a start into her radiant face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had anticipated some veiled rebuke for his own strange -conduct, anything,—not this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He breathed hard, then he replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Until I came to Rome, I never gazed on beauty that won -from me more than the applause of the eye, which a statue or a -painting, equally beautiful, might have claimed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded dreamily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard it said that the blue-eyed, sunny-haired -maidens of your native North make us Romans appear poor -in your sight!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so! The red rose is not discarded for the white. The -contrast only heightens the beauty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard it said," Stephania continued, choosing a -circuitous path instead of the direct one her guests had taken, -"that you Teutons have ideals even, while you starve on bread -and water. And I have been told that, were you permitted to -choose for your life's companion the most beautiful woman on -earth, you would hie yourselves into the gray ages of the world's -dawn for the realization of your dreams. Has your ideal been -realized, since you have established your residence in Rome, -King Otto?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief pause, then he replied, looking straight -ahead:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Love comes more stealthily than light, of which even the -dark cypresses are enamoured in your Italian noondays."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You evade my question."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What would you have me say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave him a quick glance, which set his pulses to throbbing -wildly and sent the hot blood seething through his veins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is your heart free, King Otto?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A drear sense of desolation and loneliness came over the -youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Free," he replied almost inaudibly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave a little, nervous laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how know you that, surrounded by such loveliness, -as that which you have this very night witnessed in my circle, -your hour may not strike at last?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto raised his eyes to those of the woman by his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fair lady, beautiful as Love's oracle itself, my heart is in -little danger even from your fairest satellites. But mistake -not my meaning. I am not insusceptible to the fever of the -Gods! Love I have sought under all forms and guises! And -if I found it not, if I have listened to its richest eloquence as -to some song in a foreign tongue, which my heart understood -not,—it is not that I have lacked the soul for love. Love I -found not, though phantoms I have eagerly chased in this -troubled dream of life. What avails it, to contend with one's -destiny? And this is mine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You speak like some hoary anchorite from the Thebaide. -Truly, now I begin to understand, why your chroniclers call -you the 'Wonder-child of the World.' Lover, idealist, and -cynic in one!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay—you wrong me! Cynic I am not! My mother was -a princess of Greece. The fairest woman my eyes ever gazed -upon—save one! She died in her youth and beauty, following -my father, the emperor, into his early grave. I was left alone -in the world, alone with the monks, alone in the great gloom -of our tall and spectral pines! The monks understood not my -craving for the sun and the blue skies. The whiter snows of -Thuringia chilled my heart and froze my soul! I longed for -Rome—I craved for the South. My dead mother's blood -flows in my veins. Hither I came, braving the avalanches -and the fever and the wrath of the electors, I came, once more -to challenge the phantoms of the past from their long forgotten -tombs, to make Rome—what once she was—the capital of -the earth. Rome's dream is Eternity!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania listened in silence and with downcast eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never had the ear of the beautiful Roman heard words like -these. The illiteracy, vileness, and depravity of her own -countrymen never perhaps presented itself to her in so glaring -a contrast, as when thrown into comparison with the ideal son -of the Empress Theophano and Otto II, of Saracenic renown. -His words were like some strange music, which flatters the -senses, that try in vain to retain their harmonies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause during which neither spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto thought he felt the soft pressure of Stephania's arm -against his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You spoke of one who alone might challenge the dead -empress in point of fairness," the woman spoke at last and her -voice betrayed an emotion which she vainly strove to conceal. -"Who is that one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Theophano's beauty was renowned. Even our poets sing of her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will tell you at some other time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are approaching the grotto. Your guests are waiting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Crescentius is expecting us. He will be wondering at our -tardiness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto breathed hard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, why do you ask, Stephania, why do you ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is the woman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question fell huskily from her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The answer came, soft as a zephyr that dies as it passes:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quickening their steps they reached the grotto, without -daring to face each other. The woman's heart throbbed as -impetuously as that of the youth, as they found themselves -at the entrance of the Grotto of Egeria in a blaze of light, -emanating from innumerable torches artfully arranged among -the stalactites, which diffused brilliant irradiations. The -sumptuous dresses of the nobles and barons blazed into view; -the spray from the fountain leaped up to a great height and -descended in showers of liquid jewels of iridescent hues.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A collation of fruits and wines wooed the appetite of the -guests on every hand. Sweet harmonies floated from the -adjoining groves, and, amidst a general buzz of delight and -admiration, Stephania took her seat at the festal board between -the Senator of Rome and the German king.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The flower of beauty, wit and magnificence of the Senator's -Roman court had been culled to grace this festival, for there -was no one present, who was not remarked for at least one of -these attributes, some even by the union of all. The most -beautiful women of Rome surrounded the consort of the -Senator, who outshone them all. Even envy could not deny -her the crown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, and for the first time, perhaps, Stephania -seemed to misdoubt the supremacy and power of her great -beauty, and while she affected being absorbed in other matters, -her eye watched with devouring anxiety every glance of her -exalted guest, whose feverish vivaciousness betrayed to her -his inmost thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Senator's countenance was that of the Sphinx of the -desert. He appeared neither to see nor to hear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto meanwhile, in order to remove from his path the terrible -temptation which he felt growing with every instant, in order -to divert Eckhardt's attention, who he instinctively felt was -watching his every gesture, and to stifle any possible -suspicions, which Crescentius might entertain, affected to be -struck with the appearance of one of Stephania's ladies, who -resembled her in stature and in the colour of her hair. He -intentionally mistook her for the fairy in the grotto, laughingly -challenging her acquaintance, which she as merrily denied, -declaring herself to be the wife of one of the barons present. -But Otto would not be convinced and attached himself to her -with a zeal, which brought on both many pointed jests on the -part of the assembled revellers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania immediately observed the ruse, but as her eye met -that of the Senator, an unaccountable terror seized her. She -turned away and pretended to join her guests in their -merriment. Among those present were some of the most -imaginative and prolific minds of an age, otherwise dark -and illiterate, yet the brilliant play and coruscations of -Stephania's wit, the depth of some of the glittering remarks -which fell from her lips, were not surpassed by any. At times -she exhibited a tone of recklessness almost bordering on -defiance and mockery, the lightning's power to scorch as well as -to illumine, but when relapsing into what appeared her more -natural mood, it was scarcely possible to resist the grace and -seductiveness of her manner. Even the doctrines, which half -in gayety, half in haughty acceptance of the character assigned -to her on this evening, she promulgated, full of poetical -epicureanism, fell with so sweet a harmony from her lips, that -saints could not have wished them mended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto, meanwhile, continued to play his serf-assigned part, -but he lost not a single word or gesture of Stephania and his -fervour towards his chosen partner rose in proportion with -Stephania's gayety. But he did not fail to observe that her -siren-smile was directed towards himself and his soul drank -in the beams of her beauty, as the palm-tree absorbs the fervid -suns of Africa, motionless with delight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While gayety and convivial enjoyment seemed at their -height, Eckhardt strode from the grotto, unobserved by the -revellers and entered a secluded path leading into the remoter -regions of the park. Otto's predilection for the wife of the -Senator of Rome had escaped him as little as had her own -seeming coquetry, and he had looked on in silence, until, -seized with profound disgust, he could bear it no longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What he had always feared was coming to pass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the Romans could no longer vanquish their foes on -the field of battle, they destroyed them with their women.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gardens which Eckhardt traversed resembled the -fabled treasure-house of Aladdin. Every tree glistened with -sparkling clusters of red, blue and green lights, every flowerbed -was bordered with lines and circles of iridescent globes, -and the fountains tossed up spiral columns of amber, rose -and amethyst spray against the transparent azure of the -summer skies, in which a lustrous golden moon shone full.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But a madness seemed suddenly to have seized the revellers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one knew whither Crescentius had gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one knew who was a dancer, a flute-player, a noble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Satyrs and fauns fell to chasing nymphs with shouting. -Everywhere laughter and shouts were heard, whispers and -panting breaths. Darkness covered certain parts of the -groves. Truly it was a long time, since anything similar had -been seen in Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roused and intoxicated by the contamination, the fever had -at last seized Otto. Rushing into the forest, he ran with the -others. New flocks of nymphs swarmed round him every -moment. Seeing at last a band of maidens led by one arrayed -as Diana, he sprang to it, intending to scrutinize the goddess -more closely. They encircled him in a mad whirl, and, evidently -bent upon making him follow, rushed away the next moment -like a herd of deer. But he stood rooted to the spot with wildly -beating heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A great yearning, such as he had never felt before, seized -him at that moment and the love for Stephania rushed to his -heart as a tremendous tidal wave. Never had she seemed to -him so pure, so dear, so beloved, as in that forest of frenzied -madness. A moment before he had himself wished to drink -of that cup, which drowned past and present; now he was -seized with repugnance and remorse. He felt stifled in this -unholy air; his eyes sought the stars, glimmering through -the interstices of the interwoven branches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shadow fell across his path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned. Before him stood Eckhardt, the Margrave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have seen and heard," he spoke in response to Otto's -questioning gaze. "King of the Germans, I have enough of -Rome, enough of feasts, enough of conquests. I am stifling. -I cannot breathe in this accursed air. Command the return -beyond the Alps. On these siren rocks your ship will founder! -Rome is no place for you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto stared at the man as if he feared he had lost his senses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"King of the Germans," Eckhardt continued, "on my -knees I entreat you—at the risk of your displeasure,—return -beyond the Alps! See what has become of you! See what a -woman has made of you, you, the son of the vanquisher of the -Saracens!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stretched out his arms entreatingly, as if to lead him away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto covered his face with both hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I love only her in the wide, wide world," he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this juncture a light, elastic step resounded on the gravel -path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo stepped into the clearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania awaits the king in the pavillion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt laid his hands on Otto's shoulders, straining his -eyes in silent entreaty into those of the King.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not go!" he begged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto winced, but the presence of Benilo caused him to shake -himself free of the Margrave's restraining hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania is waiting," he stammered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you will not grant my request?" Eckhardt spoke -with quivering voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In Rome we live,—in Rome we die!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Taking Benilo's arm he hastened away, leaving Eckhardt -to ponder over his prophetic words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment the Margrave remained, straining his gaze -after Otto's retreating form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His heart was heavy,—heavy to breaking. Dared he enter -the arena against the Sorceress of Rome? He laughed aloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There are moments when the tragedy of our own life is -almost amusing.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="beyond-the-grave"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BEYOND THE GRAVE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="E" src="images/img-cap-e.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ckhardt turned to go, but he -had barely moved, when, as if -risen from the earth, there -stood before him the tall, veiled -form of a woman, who whispered, -flooding his face with her -burning breath:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love you! Come! No one will see us!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt trembled in every -limb. He would have known that voice, even if it had spoken -to him from the depths of the grave. The heavy veil which -shrouded the woman's face prevented him from scrutinizing -her features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you?" he stammered, just to say something. -Swift as thought she threw her arms round him, but to -recede as swiftly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hurry! See how lonely it is! I love you! Come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you not guess?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stretched out his arms toward her, but she gambolled -before him, as a butterfly, flitting from flower to flower.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Night of Love—night of madness," she whispered. -"To-night, if you but will it, the secret is yours!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice thrilled him through and through. The -perfume of the Poppy-flower sank benumbing into -his heart. It was her voice,—it was her form,—was -it but a mocking phantom,—what was it? Again she -approached him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lift the veil!" she spoke in a voice of command.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With trembling hand he started to obey, when the leaves of -the nearest myrtle-bush began to rustle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt heard nothing, saw nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Benilo stepped into the moonlight, the apparition vanished -like a dream phantom, but from the distance her laugh was -heard, strange in some way, and ominous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt rushed after the fading vision like a madman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Would it mock him for ever, wherever he was, wherever he went?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How long he had followed it, in headlong, breathless pursuit, -as on that fateful eve, when it had lured him from the altars of -Christ, he knew not. When he at last desisted from the mad -and fruitless chase, he found himself at the base of the -Capitoline Hill. Here were scattered the ruins of the old Mamertine -prisons, once a series of cells rising in stages against the rock -to a considerable height. Here were the baths of Mamertius, -where Jugurtha, the Numidian, was starved. There Simon Bar -Gioras, the Jew, was strangled, he, who to the last maintained -the struggle against the victorious son of Vespasian. In the -cell to the right Appius Claudius, the Triumvir, was said to have -committed suicide. Another cell reëchoed from the clangour -of the chains of Simon Petrus. It was not a region where men -tarried long, and few relished the fare of the low taverns, which -were strung along the gray wall of Servius Tullius. For weird -and dismal wails were at times to be heard in clear moonlight -nights, and the region of the Capitoline Hill, cut by the old -Gemonian stairs, was in ill repute, as in the days of Republican -Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not gone very far when he found himself before -the entrance of a cavern, and Eckhardt's attention was caught -by a strange red glow as from some fire within. As he gazed -it died out, and he was left in doubt, whether it was an illusion -of his imagination, or some phenomenon peculiar to the spot. -The prisoners of the Roman state were no longer conveyed -hither for safe-keeping, but confined in the dismal dungeons -of Torre di Nona and Corte Savella. The glimmer he had seen -could not therefore emanate from the cell of some unfortunate, -here awaiting his sentence. Vainly he strained his gaze. -All was darkness again within, and although the moon was -high in a clear sky, set with innumerable stars, their distant -glimmer could not penetrate the murky depths.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt waited some minutes and the glimmer reappeared. -What urged him onward to explore the cause of the strange -light he could not have told. Still he dared not venture into -the gloom without the aid of a torch. Quickly resolved he -retraced his steps towards the few scattered houses, near the -ancient wall, entered a dimly lighted, evil-smelling shop, -purchased torch and flints and returned to the entrance of -the cavern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After lighting his torch he entered slowly and carefully, -marking every step he took in the dust and sand, which covered -the ground of the cave. The farther he advanced the more -singular grew the spectacle which greeted his gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cavern was of great extent, composed of enormous -masses of rocks, seemingly tossed together in chaotic confusion, -and glittering all over in the blaze of innumerable irradiations, -as with serpents of coloured light, so singularly brilliant and -twisted were the stalactites which clustered within. There -was one rock, in which a strong effort of the imagination -might have shaped resemblance to a crucifix. Fastened to -this by an iron rivet, a chain and a belt round his waist, lay -the form of a man, apparently in a deadly swoon, as if -exhausted from the struggle against the massive links. Some -embers still burned near the prisoner and had probably been -the means of attracting Eckhardt's attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Startled by the strange sight which encountered his gaze, -Eckhardt eagerly surveyed the person of the prisoner. He -appeared a man who had passed his prime, and his frame -betokened a scholar rather than an athlete. His head being -averted, Eckhardt was not able to scan his features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first Eckhardt was inclined to attribute the prisoner's -plight to an attack by outlaws who had stripped him, and -then, to secure secrecy and immunity, had left him to his -fate. But a second consideration staggered this presumption, -for as he raised his torch above the man's head, he discovered -the tonsure which proclaimed him a monk, and what bandit, -ever so desperate, would perpetrate a deed, which would consign -his soul to purgatory for ever more? Besides, what wealth -had a friar to tempt the avidity of a bravo?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vainly puzzling his brain, as to the probable authorship of -a deed, as dark as the identity of the hapless creature, thus -securely fettered to the stone, he looked round. There was -no vestige of drink or food; perhaps the man was starved and -slowly expiring in the last throes of exhaustion. His breath -came in rasping gasps and the short-cropped raven-blue hair -slightly tinged with gray heightened the cadaverous tints of -the body, which was of the colour of dried parchment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sudden flow of light, which flooded his eyes, perhaps -long unaccustomed thereto, caused the prostrate man to writhe -and to start from his swoon. His eyes, deeply sunk in their -sockets, and flashing a strange delirious light, stared with awe -and fear into the flame of the torch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But no sooner had he encountered Eckhardt's gaze than he -uttered a cry of dismay and would have relapsed into his -swoon, had not the Margrave grasped him by the shoulder -in an effort to support the weak, tottering body. But the cry -had startled him, and so great was Eckhardt's dismay, that -his fingers relaxed their hold and the man fell back, striking his -head against the rock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am dying—fetch me some water," he begged piteously -and Eckhardt stepped outside of the cavern and filled his helmet -from a well, whose crystal stream seemed to pour from the -fissures of the Tarpeian rock. This he carried to the hapless -wretch, raising his head and holding it to his lips. The prisoner -drank greedily and stammered his thanks in a manner as if -his tongue had swollen too big for his mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a breathless silence, then Eckhardt said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have sought you long—everywhere. How came you -in this plight?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk looked up. In his eyes there was a great fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pity—pity!" he muttered, vainly endeavouring to raise -himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's stern gaze was his sole reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ensuing silence seemed to both an eternity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk could not bear the Margrave's gaze, and had -closed his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of Ginevra?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly the words fell from Eckhardt's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk groaned. His limbs writhed and strained against -the chains that fettered him to the rock. But he made no -reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of Ginevra?" Eckhardt repeated inexorably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still there came no answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt stooped over the prostrate form like a spirit of -vengeance descended from on high and so fiercely burned his -gaze upon the monk that the latter vainly endeavoured to -turn away his face. He could feel those eyes, even though his -own were closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You stand in the shadow of death," Eckhardt spoke, -"You will never leave this cavern alive! Answer briefly -and truthfully,—and I will have your body consigned to -consecrated earth and masses said for your soul. Remain -obdurate and rot where you lie, till the trumpet blast of -resurrection day chases the worms from their loathsome -feast!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dying man answered with a groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of Ginevra?" Eckhardt questioned for the third time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk breathed hard. A tremor shook his limbs as he -gasped:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ginevra—lives."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's hands went to his head. He closed his eyes in -mortal agony and for a moment nothing but his heavy -breathing was to be heard in the cavern. When he again looked -down upon the prostrate man, he saw his lips turn purple, saw -the film of death begin to cover his eyes. How much there -was to be asked. How brief the time!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You chanted the Requiem over the body of Ginevra, -knowing her to be among the living?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk nodded feebly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's breath came hard. His breast heaved, as if it -must burst and his hand shook so violently that some of the -hot pitch from the taper struck the prisoner on the shoulder. -He writhed with a groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What prompted the hellish deceit?" Eckhardt continued. -"Did she not have my love?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was not enough. It was not enough!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What more had I to give?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marozia's inheritance—the emperor's tomb!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marozia's inheritance?" Eckhardt repeated, like one in a -dream. "The emperor's tomb? What madness is this? -She never hinted at a wish unfulfilled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She asked you never to lift the veil from her past!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk's words fell like a thunderbolt on Eckhardt's -head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How came you by this knowledge?" he questioned aghast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me some water—I am choking," gasped the monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Eckhardt held the helmet to his lips, while he prayed -that the spark of life might remain long enough in that -enfeebled body, to clear the mystery, at whose brink he stood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk drank greedily, and when his thirst seemed -appeased the water ran out of the corners of his mouth. He -again relapsed into a swoon; he heard Eckhardt's questions, -but lacked strength to answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stooping over him, Eckhardt grasped him by the shoulder -and shook him mercilessly. He must not die, until he knew all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A terrible certainty flashed through his mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This monk knew what was to him a seven times sealed book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had repeated to him Ginevra's wish,—now, nor heaven -nor hell should turn him from his path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought,—Marozia's descendants were all dead," he -said, fear and hesitation in his tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk feebly shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One lives,—the deadliest of the flock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A chill as of death seemed to benumb Eckhardt's limbs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One lives," he gasped. "Her name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Delirium seemed to have seized the prostrate wretch. He -mumbled strange words while his fingers were digging into -the sand, as if he were preparing his own grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her name!" thundered Eckhardt into the monk's ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The latter raised himself straight up and stared at the -Margrave with dead, expressionless eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the world, Ginevra,—beyond the grave—Theodora!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Theodora!" A groan broke from Eckhardt's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And is this her work?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pointed to the monk's chains, and the iron rivets driven -into the rocks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk shook his head. The spark of life flickered up -once more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Five days without food,—without water,—left here to -perish—by a villain—whom the lightnings of heaven may -blast—the betrayer of God and of man,—I am -dying,—remember,—burial—masses—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk fell back with a gasp. The death-rattle was in -his throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt knelt by his side, raised his head and tried to stem -the fleeting tide of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His name! His name!" he shrieked, mad with fear, -anguish and despair. "His name! Oh God, let him live but -long enough for that,—his name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was too late.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The spark of life had gone out. The murderer of Gregory -stood before a higher bar of judgment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a long silence in the rock caves under the Gemonian -Stairs. Nothing was to be heard, save the hard breathing -of the despairing man. He saw it all now,—all, but the -instigator, the abettor of the terrible crime against him. If -Ginevra was indeed the last link in that long chain of infamy, -which had held its high revels in Castel San Angelo during the -past decades, she could never hope to come into her own -without some potent ally. The thought lay very near, that she -might be intriguing in this very hour to regain the lost power -of Marozia. But a second consideration at least staggered this -theory. It rather seemed as if the man on whom she had relied -for the realization of her terrible ambition had deceived her, -after he had made her his own,—or had in some way failed -to keep his pledge,—until, in the endeavour to find the -support she required, she had sunk from the arms of one into -those of another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wild shriek resounded through the cavern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt trembled at the sound of his own despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like a caged, wild beast he paced up and down in the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The torch had fallen from his grasp and continued to glimmer -on the sand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had it lain within his power he would have shaken down -the mighty rock over his head and buried himself with the -hapless victim chained to the stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In vain he tried to order his chaotic thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Monstrous deception she had practised upon him!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All her endearments, all her caresses, her kisses, her whisperings -of love,—were they but the threads of the one vast fabric -of a lie?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed too monstrous to be true; it seemed too monstrous -to grasp!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all for what?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fleeting phantom of dominion, which must vanish as -it came—unsatisfied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How long he remained thus, he knew not. His torch had -well nigh burnt down when at length he roused himself from -his deadly stupor. Groping his way to the entrance of the -cave, he stepped into the open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like one dazed he returned to his palace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he could not sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Profound were the emotions, which were awakened in his -bosom, as he set foot within his chamber. Scenes of other -days arose before him with the vividness of reality. He beheld -himself again in the full vigour of manhood, ardent, -impassioned, blessed with the hand of the woman he loved and -anticipating a cloudless future. He beheld her as she was -when he first called her his own, young, proud, beautiful. -Her accents were those of endearment, her looks tenderness -and love. They smote him now like a poniard's point driven -to his very heart. He did not think he could have borne a -pang so keen and live.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why,—he asked in despair—could not the past be -recalled or for ever cancelled? Why could not men live their -loves over again, to repair, what they might have omitted, -neglected and regain their lost happiness?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pressing his hands before his eyes, he tried to shut out the -beautiful, agonizing vision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It could not be excluded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Staggering towards a chair, he sank upon it, a prey to -unbearable anguish. Avenging furies beset him and lashed -him with whips of steel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could not rest. He strode about the room. He even -thought of quitting the house, denouncing himself as a -madman for having come here at all. But where was he to go? -He must endure the tortures. Perhaps they would subside. -Little hope of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He walked to the fire-place. The air of autumn was chill -without. The embers, still glowing with a crimson reflection, -had sunk in the grate. Aye—there he stood, where he had -stood years ago, and oh, how unlike his former self! How -different in feeling! Then he had some youth left, at least, -and hope. Now he was crushed by the weight of a mystery -which haunted him night and day. Could he but quit Rome! -Could he but induce the king to return beyond the Alps. -Little doubt, that under the immense gray sky, which formed -so fitting a cupola for his grief, his soul might find rest. Here, -with the feverish pulses of life beating madly round him, here, -vegetating without purpose, without aim, he felt he would -eventually go mad. He had inhaled the poison of the -poppy-flower:—he was doomed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt did not attempt to court repose. Sleep was out of -the question in his present wrought-up state of mind. Then -wherefore seek his couch until he was calmer?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Calmer!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could he ever be calm again, till his brain had ceased to -work and his heart to beat? Should he ever know profound -repose until he slept the sleep of death?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet what was to insure him rest even within the tomb? -Might he not encounter her in the beyond,—a thing apart -from him through all eternity? During the brief period while -he had cherished the thought of disappearing from the world -for ever, he had pondered over many problems, which neither -monk nor philosophers had been able to solve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could we but know what would be our lot after death!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a time, when he had rebelled against the thought -that our footsteps are filled up and obliterated, as we pass on, -like in a quicksand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a time, he could not bear to think, that yesterday -was indeed banished and gone for ever,—that a to-morrow -must come of black and endless night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now he craved for nothing more than annihilation, -complete unrelenting annihilation. He knew not what he -believed. He knew not what he doubted. He knew not what -he denied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was on the verge of madness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the devil was busy in his heart, suggesting a solution -he had hitherto shunned. The thought filled him with dread, -tossing him to and fro on a tempestuous sea of doubt and yet -pointing to no other refuge from black despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He strove to resist the dread suggestion, but it grew -upon him with fearful force and soon bore down all opposition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If all else failed—why not leap over the dark abyss?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dreadful calm succeeded his agitation. It was vain to -puzzle his brain with a solution of the problem which -confronted him, a problem which mocked to scorn his efforts and -his prayers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He closed his eyes, vainly groping for an escape from the -dreadful labyrinth of doubt, and sinking deeper and deeper into -rumination. Nature at last asserted her rights, and he fell -into fitful, uneasy slumbers, in which all the misery of his life -seemed to sweep afresh through his heart and to uproot the -remotest depths of his tortured soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Eckhardt woke from his stupor, the gray dawn was -breaking. As he started up, a face which had appeared against -the window quickly vanished. Was it but part of his dream -or had he seen Benilo, the Chamberlain?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ara-coeli"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ARA COELI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-i.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t was not till late that night, -that Otto found himself alone. -He had at last withdrawn from -the maddening revelry. Silence -was falling on the streets of -Rome and the dimness of -midnight upon the sky, through -which blazing meteors had torn -their brilliant furrows. After -dismissing his attendants, the -son of Theophano sat alone in the lonely chamber of his palace -on the Aventine. A sense of death-like desolation had come -over him. Never had the palace seemed so vast and so silent. -And he—he, the lord of it all—he had no loving heart to -turn to, no one, that understood him with a woman's intuition. -The waves of destiny seemed to close over him and the circumstances -of his past rose poignant and vivid before his fading sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But uppermost in his soul was the certainty that he could -not further behold Stephania with impunity. When he -recalled the meeting in the Minotaurus and the subsequent -events of the evening, he lost all peace of mind. What then -would be the result of a new meeting? What would become -of him, should he thereafter find himself unable to contain his -passion in darkness and in silence? Would he exhibit to the -world the ridiculous spectacle of an insane lover, or would he, -by some unheedful action, bring down upon himself the -disdainful pity of the woman, unable as he was to resist the -vertigo of her fascination?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gazed out into the moonlit night. The ancient -monuments stood out mournful and deserted as a line of tombs. -The city seemed a graveyard, and himself but a disembodied -ghost of the dead past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gradually the hour laid its tranquillizing hush upon him. -By degrees, with the dim light of the candles, he grew drowsy. -His mental images became more and more indistinct, and he -gradually drifted away into the land of dreams. After a time -he was awakened by a light that shone upon his face. Starting -up, Otto was for a moment overcome by a strange sensation -of faintness, which vanished as he gazed into the face of -Benilo, whom his anxiety had carried to the side of the King -after having in vain searched for him among the late revellers -on the Capitoline hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto smiled at the expression of anxiety in the Roman's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas naught, save that I was weary," he replied to -Benilo's concerned inquiry. "'Tis many a week since we -revelled so late. But perchance you had best leave me now, -that I may rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo withdrew and Otto fell into a fitful slumber filled -with hazy visions, in which the persons of Crescentius and -Stephania were strangely mingled, melting rapidly from one -into the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He slept later than usual on the following day. When the -shadows of evening began to fall over the undulating expanse -of the Roman Campagna, Otto left the palace on the Aventine -by a postern gate. This hour he wished to be free from all -affairs of state, from all intrusions and cares. This hour he -wished fitly to prepare himself for the great work of his life. -In the dreamy solitude he would question his own heart as to -his future course with regard to Stephania.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The evening was serene and fair. The brick skeletons of -arches, vaults and walls glowed fiery in the rays of the sinking -sun. Among olives and acanthus was heard the bleating of -sheep and the chirrup of the grasshopper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto descended the tangled foot-path on the northern slope of -the Aventine, not far from the gardens of Capranica, and soon -reached the foot of the Capitoline hill, the ruins of the temple -of Saturnus, the place where in the days of glory had stood the -ancient Forum. From the arch of Septimius Severus as far as -the Flavian Amphitheatre the Via Sacra was flanked with -wretched hovels. Their foundations were formed of fragments -of statues, of the limbs and torsos of Olympian gods. For -centuries the Forum had been a quarry. Christian churches -languished on the ruins of pagan shrines. Still lofty columns -soared upward through the desolation, carrying sculptured -architraves, last traces of a vanished art. Here a feudal -tower leaned against the arch of Titus; beside it a tavern -befouled the fallen columns, the marble slabs, the half defaced -inscription. Behind it rose the arch, white and pure, less -shattered than the remaining monuments. The sunlight -streaming through it from the direction of the Capitol lighted -up the bas-relief of the Emperor's triumph, the malodorous -curls of smoke from the tavern appearing like clouds of incense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto's heart beat fast as, turning once more into the Forum, -he heard the dreary jangling of bells from the old church of -Santa Maria Liberatrice, sounding the Angelus. It seemed to -him like a dirge over the fallen greatness of Rome. Half -unconsciously he directed his steps toward the Coliseum. -Seating himself on the broken steps of the Amphitheatre, he -gazed up at the blue heavens, shining through the gaps in the -Coliseum walls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sudden flushes of crimson flamed up in the western horizon. -Slowly the sun was sinking to rest. A pale yellow moon had -sailed up from behind the stupendous arches of Constantine's -Basilica, severing with her disk a bed of clouds, transparent -and delicately tinted as sea-shells. The three columns in front -of Santa Maria Liberatrice shone like phantoms in the waning -light of evening. And the bell sounding the Christian Angelus -seemed more than ever like a dirge over the forgotten Rome -of the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wrapt in deep reveries, Otto continued upon his way. He -had lost all sense of life and reality. It was one of those -moments when time and the world seem to stand still, drifting -away on those delicate imperceptible lines that lie between -reality and dream-land. And the solitary rambler gave himself -up to the half painful, half delicious sense of being drawn -in, absorbed and lost in infinite imaginings, when the intense -stillness around him was broken by the peals of distant -convent bells, ringing with silvery clearness through the evening -calm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly Otto paused, all his life-blood rushing to his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the lofty flight of stairs, by which the descent is made -from Ara Coeli, stood Stephania.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had come out of the venerable church, filled with the -devout impressions of the mass just recited. The chant still -rang in her ears as she passed down the long line of uneven -pillars, which we see to-day, and across the sculptured tombs -set in the pavement which the reverential tread of millions -has worn to smooth indistinctness. Now the last rays of the -sun flooded all about her, mellowing the tints of verdure and -drooping foliage, and softening the outlines of the Alban hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she looked down she saw the German king and met his -upturned gaze. For a moment she seemed to hesitate. The -sunlight fell on her pale face and touched with fire the dark -splendour of her hair. Slowly she descended the long flight -of stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They faced each other in silence and Otto had leisure to -steal a closer look at her. He was struck by the touch of awe -which had suddenly come upon her beauty. Perhaps the -evening light spiritualized her pure and lofty countenance, -for as Otto looked upon her it seemed to him that she was -transformed into a being beyond earthly contact and his heart -sank with a sense of her remoteness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Timidly he lifted her hand and pressed his lips upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Silence intervened, a silence freighted with the weight of -suspended destinies. There was indeed more to be felt between -them, than to be said. But what mattered it, so the hour was -theirs? The narrow kingdom of to-day is better worth ruling -than the widest sweep of past and future, but not more than -once does man hold its fugitive sceptre. Otto felt the nearness -of that penetrating sympathy, which is almost a gift of divination. -The mere thought of her had seemed to fill the air with -her presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Steadily, searchingly, she gazed at the thoughtful and earnest -countenance of Otto, then she spoke with a touch of domineering -haughtiness:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why are you here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He met her gaze eye in eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was planning for the future of Rome,—and dreaming -of the past."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bent her proud head, partly in acknowledgment of his -words, partly to conceal her own confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The past is buried," she replied coldly, "and the future -dark and uncertain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why may it not be mine,—to revive that past?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No sunrise can revive that which has died in the sunset glow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you too despair of Rome ever being more than a -memory of her dead self?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him amusedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am living in the world—not in a dream."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto pointed to the Capitoline hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet see how beautiful it is, this Rome of the past!" he -spoke with repressed enthusiasm. "Is it not worth braving -the dangers of the avalanches that threaten to crush rider and -horse—even the wrath of your countrymen, who see in us -but unbidden, unwelcome invaders? Ah! Little do they -know the magic which draws us hither to their sunny shores -from the gloom of our Northern forests! Little they -know the transformation this land of flowers works on the -frozen heart, that yearns for your glowing, sun-tinted vales!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you come to Rome?" she questioned curtly. -"To remind us of these trifles,—and incidentally to dispossess -us of our time-honoured rights and power?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came not to Rome to deprive the Romans of their own,—rather -to restore to them what they have almost forgotten—their -glorious past."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is useless to remind those who do not wish to be -reminded," she replied. "The avalanche of centuries has long -buried memory and ambition in those you are pleased to call -Romans. Desist, I beg of you, to pursue a phantom which -will for ever elude you, and return beyond the Alps to your -native land!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Stephania prefers this request?" Otto faltered, -turning pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania—the consort of the Senator of Rome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the overhanging branches glimmered the pale disk -of the moon. A soft breeze stirred the leaves of the trees. -There was a hushed breathlessness in the air. Fantastic, -dream-like, light and shadows played on the majestic tide of -the Tiber, and all over the high summits of the hills mysterious -shapes, formed of purple and gray mists, rose up and crept -softly downward, winding in and out the valleys, like wandering -spirits, sent on some hidden, sorrowful errand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gazing up wistfully, Stephania saw the look of pain in Otto's -face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ask what I have," she said softly, "because I know the -temper of my countrymen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What would you make of me?" he replied. "On this -alone my heart is set. Take it from me,—I would drift an -aimless barque on the tide of time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head but avoided his gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You aim to accomplish the impossible. Crows do not -feed on the living, and the dead do not rise again. Ah! How, -if your miracle does not succeed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto drew himself up to his full height.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gloria Victis,—but before my doom, I shall prove worthy -of myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly a strange thought came over him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania," he faltered, "what do you want with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want you to be frankly my foe," exclaimed the beautiful -wife of Crescentius. "You must not pass by like this, -without telling me that you are. You speak of a past. Sometimes -I think it were better, if there had been no past. Better burn -a corpse than leave it unburied. All the friends of my dreams -are here,—their shades surround us,—in their company one -grows afraid as among the shroudless dead. It is impossible. -You cannot mean the annihilation of the past, you cannot -mean to be against Rome—against me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto faced her, pale and silent, vainly striving to speak. -He dared not trust himself. As he stepped back, she clutched -his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me that you are my enemy," she said, with heart-broken -challenge in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me that you hate me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania—why do you ask it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To justify my own ends," she replied. Then she covered -her face with her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me all," she sobbed. "I must know all. Do -you not feel how near we are? Are you indeed afraid to -speak?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gazed at him with moist, glorious eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Striding up and down before the woman, Otto vainly groped -for words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Otto," she approached him gently, "do you believe in me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wholly?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought,—feared,—that you suffered from the same -malady as we Romans."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What malady?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Distrust."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The temple is beautiful in the moonlight," Stephania said -at last. "They tell me you like relics of the olden time. Shall -we go there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto's heart beat heavily as by her side he strode down the -narrow path. They approached a little ruined temple, which -ivy had invaded and overrun. Fragments lay about in the -deep grass. A single column only remained standing and its -lonely capital, clear cut as the petals of a lily, was outlined in -clear silhouette against the limpid azure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he spoke—with a voice low and unsteady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be not too hard on me, Stephania, for my love of the -world that lies dead around us. I scarcely can explain it to -you. The old simple things stir strange chords within me. -I love the evening more than the morning, autumn better -than spring. I love all that is fleeting, even the perfume of -flowers that have faded, the pleasant melancholy, the golden -fairy-twilight. Remembrance has more power over my soul -than hope."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me more," Stephania whispered, her head leaning -back against the column and a smile playing round her lips. -"Tell me more. These are indeed strange sounds to my ear. -I scarcely know if I understand them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gazed upon her with burning eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—no! Why more empty dreams, that can never be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pointed in silence to the entrance of the temple.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto held out both hands, to assist her in descending the -sloping rock. She appeared nervous and uncertain of foot. -Hurriedly and agitated, anxious to gain the entrance she -slipped and nearly fell. In the next moment she was caught -up in his arms and clasped passionately to his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania—Stephania," he whispered, "I love you—I -love you! Away with every restraint! Let them slay me, -if they will, by every death my falsehood deserves,—but let -it be here,—here at your feet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania trembled like an aspen in his strong embrace, -and strove to release herself, but he pressed her more closely -to him, scarcely knowing that he did so, but feeling that he -held the world, life, happiness and salvation in this beautiful -Roman. His brain was in a whirl; everything seemed blotted -out,—there was no universe, no existence, no ambition, -nothing but love,—love,—love,—beating through every -fibre of his frame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman was very pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Timidly she lifted her head. He gazed at her in speechless -suspense; he saw as in a vision the pure radiance of her face, -the star-like eyes shining more and more closely into his. -Then came a touch, soft and sweet as a rose-leaf pressed against -his lips and for one moment he remembered nothing. Like -Paris of old, he was caught up in a cloud of blinding gold, -not knowing which was earth, which heaven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment nothing was to be heard, save the hard -breathing of these two, then Otto held Stephania off at an -arm's length, gazing at her, his soul in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are more beautiful than the angels," he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fallen angels," was her smiling reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then with a quick, spontaneous movement she flung her -bare arms round his neck and drew him toward her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if I did come toward you to prophesy glory and the -fulfilment of your dreams?" she murmured, even as a -sibyl. "You alone are alive among the dead! What matters -it to me that your love is hopeless, that our wings are seared? -My love is all for the rejected! I love the proud and solitary -eagle better than the stained vulture."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt the fire of the strange insatiate kiss of her lips and -reeled. It seemed as if the Goddess of Love in the translucence -of the moon, had descended, embracing him, mocking to scorn -the anguish that consumed his heart, but to vanish again in -the lunar shadows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania—" he murmured reeling, drunk with the -sweetness of her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never perhaps had the beautiful Roman bestowed on mortal -man such a glance, as now beamed from her eyes upon the -youth. The perfume of her hair intoxicated his senses. Her -breath was on his cheek, her sweet lips scarce a hand's breath -from his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had Lucifer, the prince of darkness, himself appeared at -this moment, or Crescentius started up like a ghost from the -gaping stone floor, Stephania could scarcely have changed -as suddenly as she did, to the cold impassive rigidity of -marble. Following the direction of her stony gaze, Otto -beheld emerging as it were from the very rocks above him a -dark face and mailed figure, which he recognized as Eckhardt's. -Whether or not the Margrave was conscious of having thus -unwittingly interrupted an interview,—if he had seen, his -own instincts at once revealed to him the danger of his position. -Eckhardt's countenance wore an expression of utter unconcern, -as he passed on and vanished in the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment Otto and Stephania gazed after his retreating -form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has seen nothing," Otto reassured her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-morrow," she replied, "we meet here again at the -hour of the Angelas. And then," she added changing her -tone to one of deepest tenderness, "I will test your -love,—your constancy,—your loyalty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They faced each other in a dead silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not go," he faltered, extending his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She slowly placed her own in them. It was a moment upon -which hung the fate of two lives. Otto felt her weakness in -her look, in the touch of her hands, which shivered, as they -lay in his, as captive birds. And the long smothered cry -leaped forth from his heart: What was crown, life, -glory—without love! Why not throw it all away for a caress of -that hand? What mattered all else?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the woman became strong as he grew weak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go!" she said faintly. "Farewell,—till to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dropped her hands, his eyes in hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Giving one glance backward, where Eckhardt had disappeared, -Stephania first began to move with hesitating steps, -then seized by an irresistible panic, she gathered up her trailing -robe and ran precipitately up the steep path, her fleeting form -soon disappearing in the moonlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto remained another moment, then he too stepped out -into the clear moonlit night. In silent rumination he continued -his way toward the Aventine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Past and future seemed alike to have vanished for him. -Time seemed to have come to a stand-still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he imagined that a shadow stealthily crossed -his path. He paused, turned—but there was no one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Calmly the stars looked down upon him from the azure -vault of heaven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And like a spider in his web, Johannes Crescentius sat in -Castel San Angelo.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-gothic-tower"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE GOTHIC TOWER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="D" src="images/img-cap-d.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>eep quiet reigned in the city, -when a man, enveloped in a -mantle, whose dimly shadowed -form was outlined against the -massive, gray walls of -Constantine's Basilica glided slowly -and cautiously from among the -blocks of stone scattered round -its foundations and advanced to -the fountain which then formed -the centre of the square, where the Obelisk now stands. There -he stopped and, concealed by the obscurity of the night and the -deeper shadows of the monument, glanced furtively about, as -if to be sure that he was unobserved. Then drawing his sword, -he struck three times upon the pavement, producing at each -stroke light sparks from its point. This signal, for such it -was, was forthwith answered. From the remote depths of the -ruins the cry of the screech-owl was thrice in succession -repeated, and, guided by the ringing sound, a second figure -emerged from the weeds, which were in some places the height -of a man. Obeying the signal of the first comer, the second, -who was likewise enveloped in a mantle, silently joined him -and together they proceeded half-way down the Borgo Vecchio, -then turned to the right and entered a street, at the remote -extremity of which there was a figure of the Madonna with its -lamp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Onward they walked with rapid steps, traversed the Borgo -Santo Spirito and followed the street Della Lingara to where it -opens upon the church Regina Coeli. After having pursued -their way for some time in silence they entered a narrow -winding path, which conducted them through a deserted valley, the -silence of which was only broken by the occasional hoot of an -owl or the fitful flight of a bat. In the distance could be heard -the splashing of water from the basin of a fountain, half -obscured by vines and creepers, from which a thin, translucent -stream was pouring and bubbling down the Pincian hillsides -in the direction of Santa Trinita di Monte.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They lost themselves in a maze of narrow and little frequented -lanes, until at last they found themselves before a -gray, castellated building, half cloister, half fortress, rising -out of the solitudes of the Flaminian way, before which they -stopped. Over the massive door were painted several skeletons -in the crude fashion of the time, standing upright with mitres, -sceptres and crowns upon their heads, holding falling scrolls, -with faded inscriptions in their bony grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The one, who appeared to be the moving spirit of the two, -knocked in a peculiar manner at the heavy oaken door. After -a wait of some duration they heard the creaking of hinges. -Slowly the door swung inward and closed immediately behind -them. They entered a gloomy passage. A number of owls, -roused by the dim light from the lantern of the warden, began -to fly screeching about, flapping their wings against the walls -and uttering strange cries. After ascending three flights of -stairs, preceded by the warden, whose appearance was as little -inviting as his abode, they paused before a chamber, the door -of which their guide had pushed open, remaining himself on -the threshold, while his two visitors entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How is the girl?" questioned the foremost in a whisper, -to which the warden made whispered reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beckoning his companion to follow him, the stranger then -passed into the room, which was dimly illumined by the -flickering light of a taper. Throwing off his mantle, Eckhardt -surveyed with a degree of curiosity the apartment and its -scanty furnishings. Nothing could be more dreary than the -aspect of the place. The richly moulded ceiling was festooned -with spiders' webs and in some places had fallen in heaps upon -the floor. The glories of Byzantine tapestry had long been -obliterated by age and time. The squares of black and white -marble with which the chamber was paved were loosened and -quaked beneath the foot-steps and the wide and empty -fireplace yawned like the mouth of a cavern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Straining his gaze after the harper who was bending over -a couch in a remote corner of the room, Eckhardt was about -to join him when Hezilo approached him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you like to see?" he asked, his eyes full of tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt bowed gravely, and with gentle foot-steps they -approached a bed in the corner of the room, on which there -reposed the figure of a girl, lying so still and motionless that -she might have been an image of wax. Her luxurious brown -hair was spread over the pillow and out of this frame the pinched -white face with all its traces of past beauty looked out in pitiful -silence. One thin hand was turned palm downward on the -coverlet, and as they approached the fingers began to work -convulsively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hezilo bent over her, and touched her brow with his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little one," he said, "do you sleep?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl opened her sightless eyes, and a faint smile, that -illumined her face, making it wondrously beautiful, passed over -her countenance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet," she spoke so low that Eckhardt could scarcely -catch the words, "but I shall sleep soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knew what she meant, for in her face was already that -look which comes to those who are going away. Hezilo looked -down upon her in silence, but even as he did so a change for -the worse seemed to come to the sick girl, and they became -aware that the end had begun. He tried to force some wine -between her lips, but she could not swallow, and now, instead -of lying still, she continued tossing her head from side to side. -Hezilo was undone. He could do nothing but stand at the head -of the bed in mute despair, as he watched the parting soul of -his child sob its way out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Angiola—Angiola—do not leave me—do not go from -me!" the harper cried in heart-rending anguish, kneeling down -before the bed of the girl and taking her cold, clammy hands -into his own. Impelled by a power he could not resist, Eckhardt -knelt and tried to form some words to reach the Most High. -But they would not come; he could only feel them, and he rose -again and took his stand by the dying girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She now began to talk in a rambling manner and with that -strength which comes at the point of death from somewhere; -her voice was clear but with a metallic ring. What Eckhardt -gathered from her broken words, was a story of trusting love, -of infamous wrong, of dastardly crime. And the harper shook -like a branch in the wind as the words came thick and fast from -the lips of his dying child. After a while she became still—so -still, that they both thought she had passed away. But she -revived on a sudden and called out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father,—I cannot see,—I am blind,—stoop down and -let me whisper—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am here little one, close—quite close to you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell him,—I forgive— And you forgive him too—promise!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The harper pressed his lips to the damp forehead of his -child but spoke no word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is bright again—they are calling me—Mother! -Hold me up—I cannot breathe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hezilo sank on his knees with his head between his hands, -shaken by convulsive sobs, while Eckhardt wound his arm -round the dying girl, and as he lifted her up the spirit passed. -In the room there was deep silence, broken only by the harper's -heart-rending sobs. He staggered to his feet with despair in -his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She said forgive!" he exclaimed with broken voice. -"Man—you have seen an angel die!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is the author of her death?" Eckhardt questioned, -his hands so tightly clenched, that he almost drove the nails -into his own flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If ever words changed the countenance of man, the Margrave's -question transformed the harper's grief into flaming wrath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A devil, a fiend, who first outraged, then cast her forth -blinded, to die like a reptile," he shrieked in his mastering grief. -"Surely God must have slept, while this was done!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a breathless hush in the death-chamber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hezilo was bending over the still face of his child. The dead -girl lay with her hands crossed over her bosom, still as if cut -out of marble and on her face was fixed a sad little smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last the harper arose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Staggering to the door he gave some whispered instructions -to the individual who seemed to fill the office of warden, then -beckoned silently to Eckhardt to follow him and together they -descended the narrow winding stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will return late—have everything prepared," the harper -at parting turned to the warden, who had preceded them with -his lantern. The latter nodded gloomily, then he retraced -his steps within, locking the door behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under the nocturnal starlit sky, Eckhardt breathed more -freely. For a time they proceeded in silence, which the -Margrave was loth to break. He had long recognized in the harper -the mysterious messenger who in that never-to-be-forgotten -night had conducted him to the groves of Theodora, and who -he instinctively felt had been instrumental in saving his life. -Something told him that the harper possessed the key to the -terrible mystery he had in vain endeavoured to fathom, yet -his thoughts reverted ever and ever to the scene in the tower -and to the dead girl Angiola, and he dreaded to break into -the harper's grief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had arrived at the place of the Capitol. It was deserted. -Not a human being was to be seen among the ruins, which the -seven-hilled city still cloaked with her ancient mantle of glory. -Dark and foreboding the colossal monument of the Egyptian -lion rose out of the nocturnal gloom. The air was clear but -chill, the starlight investing the gray and towering form of -basalt with a more ghostly whiteness. At the sight of the dread -memory from the mystic banks of the Nile, Eckhardt could not -suppress a shudder; a strange oppression laid its benumbing -hand upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Involuntarily he paused, plunged in gloomy and foreboding -thoughts, when the touch of the harper's hand upon his -shoulder caused him to start from his sombre reverie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drawing the Margrave into the shadow of the pedestal, -which supported the grim relic of antiquity, Hezilo at last -broke the silence. He spoke slowly and with strained accents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The scene you were permitted to witness this night has -no doubt convinced you that I have a mission to perform in -Rome. Our goal is the same, though we approach it from -divergent points. They say man's fate is pre-ordained, -irrevocable, unchangeable—from the moment of his birth. -A gloomy fantasy, yet not a baseless dream. By a -strange succession of events the thread of our destiny has -been interwoven, and the knowledge which you would acquire -at any cost, it is in my power to bestow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of this I felt convinced, since some strange chance brought -us face to face," Eckhardt replied gloomily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twas something more than chance," replied the harper. -"You too felt the compelling hand of Fate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of the awful likeness?" Eckhardt burst forth, -hardly able to restrain himself at the maddening thought, and -feeling instinctively that he should at last penetrate the web -of lies, though ever so finely spun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The harper laid a warning finger on his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You deemed her but Ginevra's counterfeit?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ginevra! Ginevra!" Eckhardt, disregarding the harper's -caution, exclaimed in his mastering agony. "What know you -of her? Speak! Tell me all! What of her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence!" enjoined his companion. "How know we what -these ruins conceal? I guided you to the Groves at the woman's -behest. What interest could she have in your destruction?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt was supporting himself against the pedestal of -the Egyptian lion, listening as one dazed to the harper's words. -Then he broke into a jarring laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which of us is mad?" he cried. "Wherein did I offend -the woman? She plied but the arts of her trade."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are speaking of Ginevra," replied the harper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ginevra," growled Eckhardt, his hair bristling and his eyes -flaming as those of an infuriated tiger while his fingers gripped -the hilt of his dagger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are speaking of Ginevra!" the harper repeated inexorably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a moan Eckhardt's hands went to his head. His -breast heaved; his breath came and went in quick gasps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not understand,—I do not understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You made no attempt to revisit the Groves," said the harper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt stroked his brow as if vainly endeavouring to -recall the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feared to succumb to her spell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To that end you had been summoned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have since been warned. Yet it seemed too monstrous -to be true."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Warned? By whom?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cyprianus, the monk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The harper's face turned livid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No blacker wretch e'er strode the streets of Rome. And -he confessed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A death-bed confession, that makes the devils laugh," -Eckhardt replied, then he briefly related the circumstances -which had led him into the deserted region of the Tarpeian Rock -and his chance discovery of the monk, whose strange tale -had been cut short by death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has walked long in death's shadow," said the harper. -"Fate was too kind, too merciful to the slayer of Gregory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief pause, during which neither spoke. At -last the harper broke the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hour of final reckoning is near,—nearer than you -dream, the hour when a fiend, a traitor must pay the penalty -of his crimes, the hour which shall for ever more remove the -shadow from your life. The task required of you is great; -you may not approach it as long as a breath of doubt remains -in your heart. Only certainty can shape your unrelenting -course. Had Ginevra a birth-mark?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt breathed hard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The imprint of a raven-claw on her left arm below the -shoulder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hezilo nodded. A strange look had passed into his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a means—to obtain the proof."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am ready!" replied Eckhardt with quivering lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you will swear on the hilt of this cross, to be guarded by -my counsel, to let nothing induce you to reveal your identity, -I will help you," said the harper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt touched the proffered cross, nodding wearily. His -heart was heavy to breaking, as the harper slowly outlined his -plan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The woman has been seized by a mortal dread of her -betrayer,—the man who wrecked her life and yours. No -questions now,—this is neither the hour or the place! In -time you shall know, in time you shall be free to act! Acting -upon my counsel, she has bid me summon to her presence a -sooth-sayer, one Dom Sabbat, who dwells in the gorge between -Mounts Testaccio and Aventine. To him I am to carry these -horoscopes and conduct him to the Groves on the third night -before the full of the moon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The harper's voice sank to a whisper, while Eckhardt listened -attentively, nodding repeatedly in gloomy silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On that night I shall await you in the shadows of the -temple of Isis. There a boat will lie in waiting to convey us -to the water stairs of her palace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The harper extended his hand, wrapping himself closer in -his mantel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The third night before the full of the moon!" he said. -"Leave me now, I implore you, that I may care for my dead. -Remember the time, the place, and your pledge!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt grasped the proffered hand and they parted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The harper strode away in the direction of the gorge below -Mount Aventine, while Eckhardt, oppressed by strange -forebodings, shaped his course towards his own habitation on the -Caelian Mount.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither had seen two figures in black robes, that lingered in -the shadows of the Lion of Basalt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No sooner had Eckhardt and Hezilo departed, than they -slowly emerged, standing revealed in the star-light as Benilo -and John of the Catacombs. For a moment they faced each -other with meaning gestures, then they too strode off in the -opposite directions, Benilo following the harper on his singular -errand, while the bravo fastened himself to the heels of the -Margrave, whom he accompanied like his own shadow, only -relinquishing his pursuit when Eckhardt entered the gloomy -portals of his palace.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-snare-of-the-fowler"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="W" src="images/img-cap-w.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>hile these events transpired in -Rome, a feverish activity -prevailed in Castel San Angelo. In -day time the huge mausoleum -presented the same sullen and -forbidding aspect as ever but -without revealing a trace of the -preparations, which were being -pushed to a close within. Under -cover of night the breaches had -been repaired; huge balistae and catapults had been placed in -position on the ramparts, and the fortress had been rendered -almost impregnable to assault, as in the time of Vitiges, the -Goth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Events were swiftly approaching the fatal crisis. While -Otto languished in the toils of Stephania, whose society became -more and more indispensable to him, while with pernicious -flattery Benilo closed the ear of the king to the cries of his -German subjects and estranged him more and more from his -leaders, his country, and his hosts, while Eckhardt vainly strove -to arouse Otto to the perils lurking in his utter abandonment -to Roman councillors and Roman polity, the Senator of Rome -had introduced into Hadrian's tomb a sufficiently strong body -of men, not only to withstand a siege, but to vanquish any -force, however superior to his own, to frustrate any assault, -however ably directed. While the German contingents -remained on Roman soil he dared not engage his enemy in -a last death-grapple for the supremacy over the Seven Hills, -which Otto's war-worn veterans from the banks of the Elbe -and Vistula had twice wrested from him. The final draw in -the great game was at hand. On this day the envoys of the -Electors would arrive in Rome to demand Otto's immediate -return to his German crown-lands, whose eastern borders were -sorely menaced by the ever recurring inroads of Poles and -Magyars. In the event of Otto's refusing compliance with the -Electoral mandate, Count Ludeger of the Palatinate was to -relieve Eckhardt of his command and to lead the German -contingents back across the Alps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was no part of the Senator's policy to permit Otto to -return. For while there remained breath in the youth, Rome -remained the Fata Morgana of his dreams, and Crescentius -remained the vassal of Theophano's son. He could never -hope to come into his own as long as the life of that boy-king -overshadowed his own. Therefore every pressure must be -brought to bear upon the headstrong youth, to defy the Electoral -mandate, to rebuff, to offend the Electoral envoys. Then, -the great German host recalled, Eckhardt relieved of his -command, Otto isolated In a hostile camp, Stephania should cry -the watchword for his doom. The inconsiderable guard -remaining would be easily vanquished and the son of -Theophano, utterly abandoned and deserted, should fall an easy -prey to the Senator's schemes, a welcome hostage in the -dungeons of Castel San Angelo, for him to deal with according to -the dictates of the hour. The task to urge Otto to this fatal -step had been assigned to Benilo, but Crescentius was -prepared for all emergencies arising from any unforeseen turn of -affairs. He had gone too far to recede. If now he quailed -before the impending issue, the mighty avalanche he had -started would hurl him to swift and certain doom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since that fateful hour, when in a moment of unaccountable -weakness Crescentius had listened to Benilo's serpent-wisdom, -and had arrayed his own wife against the German King, the -Senator of Rome had seen but little of Stephania. The preparations -for the impending revolt of the Romans, in whose fickle -minds his emissaries found a fertile soil for the seed of treason -and discontent, engaged him night and day. He seemed present -at once on the ramparts, in the galleries and in the vaults of -his formidable keep. But when chance for a fleeting moment -brought the Senator face to face with his consort, the -meaning-fraught smile on the lips of Stephania seemed to assure -him that everything was going well. Otto was lost to the world. -Heaven and earth seemed alike blotted out for him in her -presence. Together they continued to stroll among the ruins, -while Stephania poured strange tales into the youth's ear, -tales which crept to his brain, like the songs of the Sirens that -lure the mariner among the crimson flowers of their abode. -And Eckhardt despised the Romans too heartily to fear them, -and even therein he revealed the heel of Achilles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If the present day was gained, the Senator's diplomacy -would carry victory from the field, and Benilo had well plied -his subtle arts. Yet Crescentius was resolved to attend in -person the audience of the envoys. He would with his own -ears hear the King's reply to the Electors. If Benilo had played -him false? He hardly knew why a lingering suspicion of the -Chamberlain crept into his mind at all. But he shook himself -free of the thought, which had for a moment clouded the future -with its sombre shadow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the Senator of Rome hurriedly traversed the galleries of -the vast mausoleum, he suddenly found himself face to face -with Stephania.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her face was pale and her eyes revealed traces of tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the first words she uttered, Crescentius paused, surprise -and gladness in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are well met, my lord," she said, after a brief greeting, -an unwonted tremor vibrating in her tones. "I have sought -you in vain all the morning. Release me from the task -you have imposed upon me! I cannot go on! I am not -further equal to it. It is a game unworthy of you or me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The surprise at her words for a moment choked the Senator's -utterance and almost struck him dumb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Imposed upon?" he replied. "I thought you had accepted -the mission freely. Is the boy rebellious?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the contrary! Were he so, perhaps I should not now -prefer this request. He is but too pliant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has made your task an easy one," Crescentius nodded -meaningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has laid his whole soul bare to me; not a thought therein, -ever so remote, which I have not sounded. I can not stand -before him. My brow is crimsoned with the flush of shame. -He gave me truth for a lie,—friendship for deceit. He -deserves a better fate than the Senator of Rome has decreed for -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius breathed hard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The weakness does you honour," he replied after a pause. -"Perchance I should have spared you the task. I placed him -in your hands, because I dared trust no one else. And now it -is too late—too late!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not too late," replied Stephania.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius pointed silently to the ramparts, where a score -of men were placing a huge catapult in position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not too late!" she repeated, her cheeks alternately -flushing and paling. "To-day, my lord informed me, the King -stands at the Rubicon. To-day he must choose, If it is to be -Rome, if Aix-la-Chapelle. If he elects to return to the gray -gloom of his northern skies, to the sombre twilight of his -northern forests, let him go, my lord,—let him go! Much -misery will be thereby averted,—much heart-rending despair!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius had listened in silence to Stephania's pleading. -There was a brief pause, during which only his heavy breathing -was heard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His choice is made," he replied at last in a firm tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not understand you, my lord!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Senator regarded his wife with singularly fixed intentness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The toils of the Siren Rome are too firm to be snapped -asunder like a spider's web."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She covered her face with her hands. Her breath came and -went with quick, convulsive gasps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is shameful—shameful—" she sobbed. "Had I -never lent myself to the unworthy task! How could you conceive -it, my lord, how could you? But it was not your counsel! -May his right hand wither, who whispered the thought into -your ear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius winced. He felt ill at ease.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it so hard to play the confessor to yonder wingless -cherub?" he said with a forced smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania straightened herself to her full height.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I undertook the shameless task, I believed the son -of Theophano a tyrant, an oppressor, his hands stained with -the best of Roman blood! Such your lying Roman chroniclers -had painted him. I gloried in the thought, to humble a -barbarian, whose vain-glorious, boastful insolence meditated new -outrages upon us Romans. Yet his is a purer, a loftier spirit, -than is to be found in all this Rome of yours! Were it not -nobler to acknowledge him your liege, than to destroy him -by woman's wiles and smiles?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot answer you on these points," Crescentius spoke -after a pause, during which the olive tints of his countenance -had faded to ashen hues. "I regard those dreams, whose -mock-halo has blinded you, in a different light. It is the -wise man who rules the state,—it is the dreamer who -dashes it to atoms. We have gone too far! I could not -release you,—even if I would!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania breathed hard. Her hands were tightly clasped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It can bring glory to neither you, nor Rome," she said in -a pleading voice. "Let him depart in peace, my lord, and I -will thank you to my dying hour!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How know you he wishes to depart?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How know you he wishes to remain?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His destiny is Rome. Here he will live—and here he -will die!" the Senator spoke with slow emphasis. "But we -have not yet agreed upon the signal," he continued with cold -and merciless voice. "After the departure of the envoys -you will lead the King into his favourite haunts, the labyrinth -of the Minotaurus, to the little temple of Neptune. There I -will in person await him. When you see the gleam of -spearpoints in the thickets, you will wave your kerchief with the -cry: 'For Rome and Crescentius.' No harm shall befall the -youth,—unless he resist. He shall have honourable conduct -to the guest chamber, prepared for him,—below."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Crescentius pointed downward with the thumb of his -right hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania's bosom rose and fell in quick respiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not accustomed to prefer a request and be denied," -she said proudly, her face the pallor of death. "Is this your -last word, my lord?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius met her gaze unflinchingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is my last," he replied. "Yet one choice remains with -you: You may betray the King,—or the Senator of Rome!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to go, but something whispered to him to stay. -At that moment he despised himself for having imposed upon -his wife a task, against which Stephania's loftier nature had -rebelled and he inwardly cursed the hour which had ripened the -seed and him, who had sown it. Gazing after Stephania's -retreating form, all the love he bore her surged up into -his heart as he cried her name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Arrested by his voice, Stephania turned and paused for a -moment swift as thought, but in that moment she seemed to -read the very depths of his soul and the utter futility of further -entreaty. Without a word she ascended the spiral stairway -leading to the upper galleries and re-entered her own apartments, -while with long and wistful gaze Crescentius followed -the vanishing form of his wife.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And it seemed as if the Senator's prophecy was to be fulfilled. -At the reading of the Electoral manifesto, Otto had been -seized with an uncontrollable fit of rage. He had torn the -document to shreds and cast its fragments at the feet of the -Bavarian duke, who acted as spokesman for his colleagues, -the dukes of Thuringia, Saxony and Westphalia. Neither the -arguments of the Electoral envoys, nor the violent denunciations -of Eckhardt, who aired his hatred of Rome in language -never before heard in the presence of a sovereign, could stand -before Benilo's eloquent pleading. On his knees the Chamberlain -implored the King not to abandon Rome and his beloved -Romans. Vainly the German dukes pointed to the dangers -besetting the realm, vainly to the inadequate defences of the -Eastern March. With a majesty far above his years, Otto -declared his supreme will to make Rome the capital of the -earth, and to restore the pristine majesty of the Holy Roman -Empire. Rome was his destiny. Here he would live, and here -he would die. Rome was pacified. He required no longer the -presence of the army. Let Bavaria and Saxony defend their -own boundaries as best they might; let the Count Palatine -lead his veteran hosts across the Alps. He would remain. -This his reply to the Electors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the eve of that eventful day the German dukes departed, -while the Count Palatine proceeded to Tivoli, to prepare the -great armament for their winter march across the Alps. It -had come to pass as Crescentius had predicted. The die was -cast. Rome, the Siren, had conquered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the night following these events, Rome in her various -quarters presented a strange aspect of secret activity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the fortresses of the Cavalli and Caetani lights flitted to -and fro through the gratings in the main court. Benilo, the -Chamberlain, might be seen stealing from the postern gate. -Towards the ruins of the Coliseum men whose dress bespoke -them of the lowest rank, were seen creeping from lanes and -alleys. From these ruins at a later hour, glided again the form -of the Grand Chamberlain. Later yet,—when a gray light -is breaking in the east, the gates of Rome, by St. John Lateran, -are open. Benilo is conversing with the Roman guard. The -mountains are dim with a mournful and chilling haze when -Benilo enters the palace on the Aventine.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-temple-of-neptune"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE TEMPLE OF NEPTUNE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="S" src="images/img-cap-s.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>haken to the inmost depths of -his soul by a storm of -forebodings, hope, fear and passion, -Otto had shaken himself free -from the throng of flattering -friends and courtiers and had -sought the solitude of his own -chamber. He had dismissed the -envoys of the Electors with the -unalterable reply that he would -not return to his gloomy Saxon-land. Let the Saxon dukes -defend the borders of the realm, let them keep Poles and Slavs -in check. His own destiny was Rome. Here he would live, -and here he would die. Deeply offended, the German envoys -had departed. The consequences might be far-reaching indeed. -Tearing off his accoutrements and all insignia of office and -rank, Otto flung himself on his couch in solitary seclusion. -All had been against him,—save Benilo. Benilo alone understood -him. Benilo alone encouraged the young king to follow -out his destiny. Benilo alone had pointed out that the earth -might be governed from the ancient seat of empire without -detriment to any of the nations of the Holy Roman Empire. -Benilo alone had demonstrated the necessity of Otto's presence -in his chosen capital, whose heterogeneous elements would -obey no lesser authority.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Weary and torn by conflicting emotions he at last sank -down before the image of Mary and prayed to the Mother of -God to guide his steps in the dark wilderness in which he -found himself entangled. Thus transported out of himself -far beyond the vociferous pageant of that exhausting day, Otto -gave himself with all the mystical fervour of his Hellenic -nature to visions of the future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus the evening approached. Long before the hour appointed -he slowly bent his steps towards the little temple of -Neptune, crowning the olive-clad summits of Mount Aventine -and overlooking the vale of Egeria and the meandering course -of the Tiber. The clouds above, beautiful with changing -sunset tints, mottled the broken surface of the river with hues -of bronze and purple between the leaves of the creeping -water-plants, which clogged the movement of the stream. On the -river-bank the rushes were starred with iris and ranunculus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sun was declining in the horizon. A solemn stillness, -like the presage of some divine event, held the pulses of the -universe. A soft rose crept into the shimmer of the -water, cresting the summits of far off Soracté. The transient, -many-tinted glories of the autumn sunset were reflected -in opalescent lights on the waves of the Tiber, and swept the -landscape in one dazzling glow of gold and amber, strangely -blending with the gold and russet of the autumn foliage. The -floating smell of flowers invisible hovered on the air; a mystic -yearning seemed to pervade all nature in that chill, melancholy -odour, that puts men in mind of death. The soft masses of -leaves decayed caused a brushing sound under the feet of the -lonely rambler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Round him in the silent woods burnt the magnificent -obsequies of departing summer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fire-flies moved through the embalmed air, like the torches -of unseen angels. The late roses exhaled their mystic odour, -and silently like dead butterflies, here and there a wan leaf -dropped from the branches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At every step the wood became more lonely. It was as -untroubled by any sound as an abandoned cemetery. Birds -there were few, the shade of the laurel-grove being too dense -and no song of theirs was heard. A grasshopper began his shrill -cry, but quickly ceased, as if startled by its own voice. Insects -alone were humming faintly in a last slender ray of sunlight, -but ventured not to quit its beam for the neighbouring gloom. -Sometimes Otto trended his path along wider alleys bordered -by titanic walls of weird cypress, casting dark shade as a -moonless night. Here and there subterranean waters made the -moss spongy. Streams ran everywhere, chill as melted snow, -but silently, with no tinkling ripples, as if muted by the -melancholy of the enchanted wood. Moss stifled the sound of the -falling drops and they sank away like the tears of an unspoken -love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment; Otto lingered among a tangle of elder-bushes. -The oblique sun rays filtering through the dense laurel became -almost lunar, as if seen through the smoke of a funeral torch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Along the edge of the road goats were contentedly browsing -and a rugged sun-burnt little lad with large black eyes was -driving a flock of geese. Storm clouds lined with gold were -rising in the North over the unseen Alps, and high up in the -clear sky there burned a single star.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Deep in thought, Otto passed the walls of the cloisters of -St. Cosmas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Onward he walked as in the memory of a dream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the purple silence came faintly the chant of the -monks:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Fac me plagis vulnerari</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Pac me cruce inebriari</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Ob amorem Filii."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At last the Ionic marble columns, softly steeped in the warmth -of departing day, came into sight. Silence and coolness -encompassed him. The setting sun still cast his glimmer on the -capitals of the columns whose fine, illumined scroll work, -contrasted with the penumbral shadows of the interior, seemed -soft and bright as tresses of gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hand softly touched Otto's shoulder. A voice whispered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you would know all—come! Come and I will tell you -the secret which never yet I have uttered to mortal man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the departing light, veiled by the thick cypresses and pale -as the moon-beams, just as in the Egerian wilderness in the -whiteness of summer-lightnings, she put her face close to his, -her face white as marble, with its scarlet lips, its witch-like -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On they walked in silence, hand in hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On they walked along the verge of a precipice, where none -have walked before, resisting the vertigo and the fatal attraction -of the abyss. If they should prove unequal to the -strain,—overstep the magic circle?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania was pale and trembled. She smiled,—but the -smile troubled him, he scarce knew why. He tried to think -it was the melancholy, caused by the wild and stormy look of -the sunset and the loud cawing of the hereditary rooks, which -seemed to croak an everlasting farewell to life and hope in the -oaks of the convent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Must he repulse the love that surged up to him in resistless -waves?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Must he renounce the near for the far-away, the ideal, -whose embodiment she was, for the commonplace?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly the sun sank to rest in a sea of crimson and gold, -a fiery funeral of foliage and flowers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A clock boomed from a neighbouring tower. The heavy -measured clang vibrated long through the stillness, quivering -In the air, like a warning knell of fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Softly she drew him into the dusk of the pagan temple, drew -him down beside her on one of the scattered fragments of -antiquity, a dog-eared God of black Syenite from Egypt, which -had shared the fate of its Latin equals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he could not sit beside—her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abruptly he rose; standing before her, the passion of the -long fight surged up in him. Stephania sat motionless, and -for a time neither spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Otto broke the silence. His voice was strained as if -he were suffering some great pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have come!" he said. "I have cut every bridge between -present and past! I am here.—Have you thought of my -appeal?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, why do you torture me?" she replied half sobbing, -"I venture to ask for a delay, and you arraign me as though I -stood at the bar of judgment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is our day of judgment," he replied. "It is the day -when life confronts us with our own deeds,—when we must -answer for them, when we must justify them. For if we are -but triflers, we cannot stand in the face either of heaven or of -hell!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bent down and took her hands in his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania," he said, "I too have doubted, I too have -wavered:—give me but one word of assurance,—my love -for you is a wound which no eternity can cure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She broke from him, to hide her weeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you thought of the forfeit?" she faltered after a time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would not forego the doom!—You alone are my light -in this dark country of the world. Do not stifle the voice in -your heart with reasons—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reasons! Reasons!" she interrupted. "What does the -heart know of reasons! Mine has long forgotten their -pleadings—else, were I here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something in her voice and gesture was like a lightning -flash over a dark landscape. In an instant he saw the pit at -his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What then," he faltered, "is this to lead to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some one has been with you," she said quickly. "These -words were not yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rallied with a fault smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pretext for not heeding them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eckhardt has been with you! He has maligned me to you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has warned me against you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned very pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you heeded?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am here, Stephania!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The subtle perfume clinging to her gown mounted to his -brain, choking back reason and resistance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet again I ask you, what is this to lead to? I am afraid -of the future as a child of the dark!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held his hands tightly clasped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" she sobbed, "why will you torture me? I have -borne much for our love's sake—but to answer you now is to -relive it and I lack the strength."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held her hands fast, his eyes in hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Stephania," he said, "your strength never failed you -when there was call on it, and our whole past calls on it now! -Eckhardt tells me that the Romans hate me,—that they -resent the love I bear them—oh, if it were true!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania gazed at him with wide astonished eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! It is this then," she said with a sigh of relief. "A -moment's thought must show you what passions are here at -work. You must rise above such fears. As for us,—no one -can judge between us, but ourselves. Shake off these dread -fancies! There lies but one goal before us. You pointed the -way to it once. Surely you would not hold me back from it -now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gently she drew him down by her side. Through the crevices -in the roof glimmered the evening star.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw the conflict, which raged within him, the instinct -to break away from her, who could never more be his own. -She saw the fear which bound him to her,—she saw the great -love he bore her, and she knew that he was hers soul and -body, her instrument, her toy,—her lover if she so willed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke to her of his childhood in the bleak northern -forests; of the black pines of Thuringia, of the snow-drifts, -which froze his heart; of the sad sea horizons brooding -infinitely away; of the gloomy abbey of Merséburg, in the -Saxon-land, where the great Emperor Otto, his grandsire, was -sleeping towards the day of resurrection, where under the abbot's -guidance he had first been initiated into the magic of a sunnier -clime. He spoke to her of his Greek mother, the Empress -Theophano, whose great beauty was only rivalled by her own, -and of that eventful night, when he descended into the crypts -of Aix-la-Chapelle and opened the tomb of Charlemagne, then -dead almost two hundred years. He told her how he had -fought against this mad, unreasoning love, which had at -first sight of her crept into his heart, urging naught in palliation -of his offence, but like a flagellant laying bare his tortured -flesh to a self-inflicted scourge. He begged her to decide for -him, to guide him, lonely antagonist of destiny—dared he -ask for more? She was the wife of the Senator of Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he ceased speaking, Otto covered his face with his hands, -but Stephania drew them down and held them firmly in her -own. Truly, if it was victory to accomplish the end, by drawing -out a loving, confiding heart, the victory was with the -vanquished. And with the memory of the compact she had sealed -a wondrous pity flashed through the woman's soul, a mighty -longing, to lift the son of the Greek Princess up into joyous -peace! No thought of evil marred her pure desire,—alas! -She knew not at that moment, that even in that pity lay his -direst snare, and hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The decisive moment was at hand. In the thickets before -the temple her eye discerned the gleam of spear-points. For -a moment a violent tremor passed through her body. She had -hardly strength sufficient to maintain her presence of mind, -and her face was pale as that of a corpse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Would she, a second Delilah, deliver Otto to her -countrymen—the Romans?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was some time ere she felt sufficiently composed to speak. -Her throat was dry and she seemed to choke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto remarked her discomfiture, far from guessing its cause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will fetch you some water," he said, starting up to leave -the temple.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quick as lightning she had arisen, holding him back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is nothing," she whispered nervously. "Do not leave me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he obeyed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania closed her eyes as if to exclude the sight of the -spear-points.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Otto," she said softly, after a pause, for the first time -calling him by his name, "I fear there is one great lesson you -have never learned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what is this lesson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That, what you are doing for the Romans might also be -done for you! Is there no heart to share your sorrow, to help -you bear the pain of disappointment, which must come to you -sooner or later? You told me, you had never loved before we -met—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded assent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never—Never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Then you do not know. You seek for light, where the -sun can never shine! Striving for the highest ideals of -mankind we can rise from the black depths of doubt but by one -ladder,—that of a woman's love!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the dreadful doubt assailed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you mean—that,—oh, do not speak of it, Stephania! -The wound is already past healing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bent towards him and rested her head upon his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet I must,—here—and to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—no—no!" he muttered helplessly and turned -away. The words of Eckhardt rushed and roared through his -memory: "Once you are hers,—no human power can save -you from the abyss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Eckhardt hated the Romans as one hates a scorpion, -a basilisk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania relinquished not her victim. He must be hers, -body and soul, ere she shrieked the fatal word.—The warm -blood hurtling through her veins quenched the last pitying -spark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" she said with a sigh. "You have never known the -tenderness of a woman's smile,—the touch of a woman's -hand,—her soft caress,—the sound of her voice,—that -haunts you everywhere,—waking,—in your dreams—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania!" he gasped, and rose as if to flee from her, -but she held him back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have never known the ear that listens for your -footsteps,—the lips that meet your own in a long, passionate -kiss,—the kiss that thrills—and burns—and maddens—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania—in mercy—cease!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again he attempted to rise, again she drew him down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not like other men—Otto! Will you always live -so lonely,—so companionless,—with no one to love you -with that lasting love, for which your whole soul cries out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shivering he raised his arms as if to shut the sight of her -from his dazzled gaze. Again, though fainter, Eckhardt's -terrible warning knocked at the gates of his memory. But her -purring voice with its low melodious roll, wooed his listening -heart till the doors of reason tottered on their hinges. And -the end—what would be the end?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me no more," he gasped, "tell me no more! I cannot -listen! I dare not listen! You will destroy me! You will -destroy us both!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her lips parted in a smile,—that fateful smile, which -caused his soul to quake. Her fine nostrils quivered, as she -bent towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You cannot?" she said. "You dare not? Will you pass -the cup untasted, the cup that brims with the crimson joy of -love? Is there none in all the world to take you by the -hand,—to lead you home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a cry half inarticulate he sprang toward her,—his -fierce words tumbling from delirious lips:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes,—there is one,—there is one,—one who could -lift me up till my soul should sing in heavenly bliss,—one -who could bring to me forgetfulness and peace,—one who -could change my state of exalted loneliness to a delirium of -ecstasy,—one who could lead me, wherever she would—could -I but lay my head on her breast,—touch her lips,—call -her mine—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania stretched out her white, bare arms that made -him dizzy. He stood before her quivering with hands pressed -tightly against his throbbing temples. One moment only.—Half -risen from her seat, her eye on the gleaming spear-points -in the thicket, she seemed to crouch towards him like some -beautiful animal, then a half choked out cry broke from his -lips, as their eyes looked hungrily into each others, and they -were clasped in a tight embrace. Stephania's arms encircled -Otto's neck and she pressed her lips on his in a long, fervid -kiss, which thrilled the youth to the marrow of his bone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment a curtain of matted vines, which divided -the vestibule of the little temple from its inner chambers was -half pushed aside by a massive arm, wrapped with scales of -linked mail. Standing behind them, Crescentius witnessed the -embrace and withdrew without a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext" id="id1"><span>Was Stephania not overacting her part?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waited for the signal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No signal came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then a terrible revelation burst upon the Senator's mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johannes Crescentius had lost the love of his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a time the spear-points disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Senator of Rome saw his own danger and the forces -arrayed against him. He was no longer dealing with statecraft. -The weapon had been turned. With a smothered outcry of -anguish he slowly retraced his steps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither had seen the silent witness of their embrace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Silence had ensued in the temple.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Each could feel the tremor in the soul of the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a time Otto stumbled blindly into the open. Stephania -remained alone in rigid silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In frozen horror she stared into the dusk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The game is finished,—I have won,—oh, God forgive -me—God forgive me!" she moaned. "Otto ... Otto -... Otto ..."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"If you would know all,—come at midnight to the churchyard -near Ponte Sisto," whispered a voice close by his side, as -Crescentius staggered towards the Aelian bridge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt a hand upon his shoulder, turned, and saw, like -some ill-omened ghost in the wintry twilight, a lean pale face -staring into his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the darkness, under the dense shadows of the cypress-trees -he could not distinguish the features of his companion, -who wore the habit of a monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when Crescentius turned to reply, he was alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Christ too prayed a human prayer for a miracle: -Father, let this cup pass from me!" he muttered, continuing -upon his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With eyes on the ground he strode along the narrow -walk, skirting the Tiber, in whose turbid waves no stars -were reflected. And scarce consciously he repeated to -himself:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As like as a man and his own phantom,—his own phantom."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He passed the bridge and entered the mausoleum of the -Flavian emperor. Rapidly he ascended to his own chamber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The candle was burning low.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up and down he paced in the endeavour to order his thoughts. -But no order would come into the chaotic confusion of his mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What was the dominion of Rome to him now?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What the dominion of the Universe?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What devil in human shape had counselled the act in the -seeds of which slumbered his own destruction?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The flame of the dying candle flickered and grew dim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had Stephania returned?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He heard no steps, no sound in her chamber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the memory of what he had seen, a groan broke from -his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How he hated that boy, who after wresting from him the -dominion of the city, had stolen from him the love of his wife!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stolen? Had it not been thrust upon him? What mortal -could have resisted the temptation? He would die—thus -it was written in the stars;—but Stephania would weep for -him—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On tip-toe the Senator stole to the chamber of his wife. -The door stood ajar. The chamber was empty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The candle flared up for the last time, lighting up the gloom. -Then it sank down and went out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius was alone in the darkness.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-incantation"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE INCANTATION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-i.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t was near the hour of midnight -when a figure, muffled and -concealed in an ample mantle left -Castel San Angelo. The guards -on duty did not challenge it and -after crossing the Aelian bridge, -it traversed the deserted -thoroughfares until it reached the -Flaminian way, which it -entered. Avoiding the foot-path -near the river, the figure moved stealthily along the farther -side of the road, which, as far as could be discerned by the -glimpses of the moon which occasionally shone forth from a -bank of heavy clouds, was deserted. A few sounds arose from -the banks of the river and there was now and then a splash in -the water or a distant cry betokening some passing craft. -Otherwise profound silence reigned. The low structures and -wharfs on the opposite bank could be but imperfectly discerned, -but the moonlight fell clear upon the mausoleum of Augustus -and the adjacent church of St. Eufemia. The same glimmer -also ran like a silver-belt across the stream and revealed the -gloomy walls of the Septizonium. The world of habitations -beyond this melancholy stronghold was buried in darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After crossing Ponte Sisto the muffled rambler entered a -churchyard, which seemed to have been abandoned for ages. -The moon was now shining brightly and silvered the massive -square watchtowers, the battlements, and pinnacles with -gorgeous tracery. Crescentius had hardly set foot on the -moss-grown path, when two individuals wrapped in dark, flowing -mantles, whose manner was as mysterious as their appearance, -glided stealthily past him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They seemed not to have noticed his presence but pursued -their way through the churchyard, creeping beneath the shadow -of a wall in the direction of some low structure, which -appeared to be a charnel-house situated at its north-western -extremity. Before this building grew a black and stunted -yew-tree. Arrived at it, they paused to see whether they were -observed. They did not notice the unbidden visitor, who had -concealed himself behind a buttress. One of the two individuals -who seemed bent by great age then unlocked the door of the -charnel-house and brought out a pick-axe and a spade. Then -both men proceeded some little distance from the building -and began to shovel out the mould from a grass-grown grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Determined to watch their proceeding, Crescentius crept -towards the yew-tree, behind which he ensconced himself. -The bent and decrepit one of the two meanwhile continued to -ply his spade with a vigour that seemed incomprehensible in -one so far stricken in years and of such infirm appearance. -At length he paused, and kneeling within the shallow grave -endeavoured to drag something from it. His assistant, -apparently younger and possessed of greater vigour, knelt to lend -his aid. After some exertion they drew forth the corpse of -a woman which had been interred without a coffin and -apparently in the habiliments worn during life. Then the two -men raised the corpse, and conveyed it to the charnel-house. -After having done so, one of them returned to the grave for -the lantern and, upon returning, entered the building and -closed and fastened the door behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius had chosen the moment when one of the two -individuals left the lone house, to enter unobserved and to conceal -himself in the shadows. What he had witnessed, had -exercised a terrible fascination over him, and he was determined -to see to an end the devilish rites about to be performed by -the personage, in quest of whom he had come. The chamber -in which he found himself was in perfect keeping with the -horrible ceremonial about to be performed. In one corner -lay a mouldering heap of skulls, bones and other fragments -of mortality; in the other a pile of broken coffins, emptied of -their tenants and reared on end. But what chiefly attracted -his attention, was a ghastly collection of human limbs -blackened with pitch, girded round with iron hoops and hung like -meat in a shamble against the wall. There were two heads, -and although the features were scarcely distinguishable owing -to the liquid in which they had been immersed, they still -retained a terrible expression of agony. These were the quarters -of two priests recently executed for conspiracy against the -Pontiff, which had been left there pending their final -disposition. The implements of execution were scattered about -and mixed with the tools of the sexton, while in the centre of -the room stood a large wooden frame supported by rafters. -On this frame, bespattered with blood and besmeared with -pitch, the body was now placed. This done, the one who -seemed to be the moving spirit of the two, placed the lantern -beside it, and as the light fell upon its livid features, sullied -with earth, and exhibiting traces of decay, Crescentius was so -appalled by the sight, that he revealed his presence by a half -suppressed outcry. Seeing the futility of further concealment, -he stepped into the light of the lantern and was about to speak, -when he heard the older address his assistant, neither of -whom evinced the least surprise at his presence, while he -pointed toward him:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look! It is the very face! The bronzed and strongly -marked features,—the fierce gray eye—the iron frame of -the figure we beheld in the show-stone! Thus he looked, as we -tracked his perilous course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know me then?" asked the intruder uneasily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are the Senator of Rome!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You spoke of my perilous course! How have you learned this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the art that reveals all things! And in proof that your -thoughts are known to me, I will tell you the inquiry you -would make before it is uttered. You came here to learn -whether the enterprise in which you are engaged will succeed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Such was my intent," replied Crescentius. "From the -reports about you, I will freely admit, I regarded you as an -impostor! Now I am convinced that you are skilled in the -occult science and would fain consult you on the future. -What is the meaning of this?" he continued pointing to the -corpse before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I expected you!" was the conjurer's laconic reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How is that possible?" exclaimed Crescentius. "It is -only within the hour, that I conceived the thought,—and only -the events of this evening prompted it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know all!" replied Dom Sabbat. "Yet I would caution -you: beware, how you pry into the future. You may repent -of your rashness, when it is too late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no fear! Let me know the worst!" replied Crescentius.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The conjurer pointed to the corpse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That carcass having been placed in the ground without the -holy rites of burial, I have power over it. As the witch of Endor -called up Samuel, as is recorded in Holy Writ,—as Erichtho -raised up a corpse, to reveal to Sextus Pompejus the event of the -Pharsalian war,—as the dead maid was brought back to life -by Appollonius of Thyana,—so I, by certain powerful -incantations will lure the soul of this corpse for a short space -into its former abode, and compel it to answer my questions. -Dare you be present at the ceremony?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare!" replied the Senator of Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it be!" replied Dom Sabbat. "You will need all your -courage!" and he extinguished the light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An awful silence ensued in the charnel-house, broken only -by a low murmur from the conjurer who appeared to be -reciting an incantation. As he proceeded, his tones became -louder and his voice that of command. Suddenly he paused -and seemed to await a response. But as none was -made, greatly to the disappointment of Crescentius, whose -curiosity, despite his fears, was raised to the highest pitch, -cried:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blood is wanting to complete the charm!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If that be all, I will speedily supply the deficiency," replied -the Senator, bared his left arm and, drawing his poniard, pricked -it slightly with the point of the weapon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bleed now!" he cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sprinkle the corpse with the blood," commanded Dom Sabbat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The blood is flowing upon it!" replied Crescentius with -a shudder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon this the conjurer began to mutter an incantation in a -louder and more authoritative tone than before. His assistant -added his voice, and both joined in a sort of chorus, but in a -jargon entirely unintelligible to the Senator.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly a blue flame appeared above their heads, and slowly -descending, settled upon the brow of the corpse, lighting up -the sunken cavities of the eyes and the discoloured and distorted -features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She moves! She moves!" shouted the Senator frantically. -"She moves! She is alive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be silent!" cried Dom Sabbat, "else mischief may ensue!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And again he started his incantation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down on your knees!" he exclaimed at length with -terrible voice. "The spirit is at hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a rushing sound and a stream of white, dazzling -light shot down upon the corpse, which emitted a hollow -groan. In obedience to Dom Sabbat's demand Crescentius had -prostrated himself on the ground, but he kept his gaze steadily -fixed on the body, which, to his infinite amazement, slowly -arose until it stood erect upon the frame. There it remained -perfectly motionless, with the arms close to the sides and the -habiliments torn and dishevelled. The blue light still retained -its position upon the brow and communicated a horrible -glimmer to the features. The spectacle was so dreadful, that -Crescentius would have averted his eyes, but he was unable to -do so. The conjurer and his familiar meanwhile continued -their invocations, until, as it seemed to the Senator, the lips -of the corpse moved and a voice of despair exclaimed: "Why -have you called me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To question you about the future!" replied Dom Sabbat rising.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak and I will answer," replied the corpse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ask her,—but be brief;—her time is short," said Dom -Sabbat, addressing the Senator. "Only as long as that flame -burns, have I power over her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is her name?" questioned the Senator.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marozia!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Senator's hand went to his forehead; he tottered and -almost fell. But he caught himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Spirit of Marozia," he cried, "if indeed thou standest -before me, and some demon has not entered thy frame to -delude me,—by all that is holy, and by every blessed saint do -I adjure thee to tell me, whether the scheme, on which I am -now engaged for the glory of Rome, will prosper?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou art mistaken, Johannes Crescentius," returned the -corpse. "Thy scheme is not for the glory of Rome!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not pause to argue this point," continued the Senator. -"Will the end be successful?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The end will be death," replied the corpse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the King—or to myself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To both!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha!" ejaculated Crescentius, breathing hard. "To both!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Proceed if you have more to ask,—the flame is expiring," -cried the conjurer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And—Stephania?" But he could not utter the question. -He felt like one choking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But before the question was formed, the light vanished and -a heavy sound was heard, as of the body falling on the frame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is over!" said Dom Sabbat</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you not summon her again?" asked Crescentius, -in a tone of deep disappointment. "I must know that other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible," replied the conjurer. "The spirit has flown -and cannot be recalled. We must commit the body to the -earth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My curiosity is excited,—not satisfied," said the Senator. -"Would it were to occur again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thus it is ever," replied Dom Sabbat. "We seek to know -that which is forbidden, and quench our thirst at a fount, -which but inflames our curiosity the more. You have -embarked on a perilous enterprise;—be warned, Senator of -Rome! If you continue to pursue it, it will lead you to -perdition."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot retreat," replied Crescentius. "And I would -not, if I could. Death to both of us:—this at least is -atonement!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I warn you again,—if you persist, you are lost!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible,—I cannot retreat;—I could not, if I would! -By no sophistry can I clear my conscience of the ties imposed -upon it. I have sworn never to desist from the execution of -this scheme, never—never! And so resolved am I, that if I -stood alone in this very hour—I would go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You stand alone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one knew whence the voice had come. The three stood -appalled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A deep groan issued from the corpse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the last time,—be warned!" expostulated Dom Sabbat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come forth!" cried Crescentius rushing towards the door. -"This place stifles me!" And he unbolted the door and threw -it wide open, stepping outside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moon was shining brightly from a deep blue azure. -Before him stood the old church of St. Damian bathed in the -moonlight. The Senator gazed abstractedly at the venerable -structure, then he re-entered the charnel-house, where he -found the conjurer and his companion employed in placing the -body of the excommunicated denizen of Castel San Angelo -into a coffin, which they had taken from a pile in the corner. -He immediately proffered his assistance and in a short space -the task was completed. The coffin was then borne toward the -grave, at the edge of which it was laid, while the Dom Sabbat -mumbled a strange Requiem over the departed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This ended, it was laid into its shallow resting place, and -speedily covered with earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When all was ready for their departure, Dom Sabbat turned -to the Senator of Rome, bidding him farewell. Declining the -proffered gold, he observed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you are wise, my lord, you will profit by the awful -warning you have this night received."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you?" the Senator questioned abruptly, trying -to peer through the cowl which the adept of the black arts had -drawn over his face, "since the devils obey your beck?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The conjurer laughed a soundless laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of dominion over devils I am innocent—since I rule no men!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the entrance of the churchyard, Crescentius parted from -the conjurer and his associate, about whose personality he -had not troubled himself, and returned in deep rumination to -Castel San Angelo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No sooner had the Senator of Rome departed, than the -conjurer's familiar tore the trappings from his person and -stood revealed to his companion as Benilo, the Chamberlain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dog! Liar! Impostor," he hissed into Dom Sabbat's -face, while kicking and buffeting him. "Marozia has been -dead some fifty years. How dare you perpetrate this monstrous -fraud? Was it this I bade you tell the Senator of Rome?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dom Sabbat cringed before the blows and the flaming madness -in the Chamberlain's eyes. Folding his arms over his -chest and bending low he replied with feigned contrition:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was not for me to compel the spirit's answer! And as -for the corpse, 'twas Marozia's. Thus read you the devil's -favour. Until blessed by the holy rite, the body cannot return -to its native dust."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it was Marozia's spirit we beheld?" Benilo queried -with a shudder, as they left the churchyard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marozia's spirit," replied Dom Sabbat. "Yet who would -raise a fabric on the memory of a lie?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-hermitage-of-nilus"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE HERMITAGE OF NILUS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="S" src="images/img-cap-s.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>tephania's sleep had been -broken and restless. She tossed -and turned in her pillows and -pushed back the hair from her -fevered cheeks and throbbing -temples in vain. It was weary -work, to lie gazing with eyes -wide open at the flickering -shadows cast by the night-lamp -on the opposite wall. It was -still less productive of sleep to shut them tight and to abandon -herself to the visions thus evoked, which stood out in life-like -colours and refused to be dispelled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Do what she would to forget him, to conjure up some other -object in her soul, there stood the son of Theophano, towering -like a demi-god over the mean, effeminate throng of her -countrymen. Her whole being had changed in the brief space -of time, since first they had met face to face. Then the woman's -heart, filled with implacable hatred of that imperial phantom, -which had twice wrested the dominion of Rome from the -Senator's iron grasp, filled with hatred of the unwelcome -intruder, had given one great bound for joy at the certainty -that he was hers,—hers to deal with according to her desire,—that -he had not withstood the vertigo of her fateful beauty. -With the first kiss she had imprinted on his lips, she had -dedicated him to the Erynnies,—it was not enough to -vanquish, she must break his heart. Thus only would her victory -be complete.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a terrible change had come over her now! All she -possessed, all she called her own, she would gladly have given -to undo what she had done. For the first time, as with the -lightning's glare, the terrible chasm was revealed to her, at -the brink of which she stood. Strange irony of fate! Slowly -but surely she had felt the hatred of Otto vanish from her heart. -He had bared his own before her, she had penetrated the -remotest depths of his soul. She had read him as an open book. -And as she revolved in her own mind the sordid aspirations of -those she called her countrymen, the promptings of tyrants -and oppressors,—thrown in the scales against the pure and -lofty ideals of the King,—a flush of shame drove the pallor -from her cheeks and caused hot tears of remorse to well up -from the depths of her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the first time the whole enormity of what she had done, -of the scheme to which she had lent herself, flashed upon her, -and with it a wave of hot resentment rushed through her heart. -Her own blind hate and the ever-present consciousness of the -low estate to which the one-time powerful house of Crescentius -had fallen, had prompted her to accept the trust, to commit -the deed for which she despised herself. Would the youth, -whom she was to lead the sure way to perdition, have chosen -such means to attain his ends? And what would he say to her -at that fatal moment, when all his illusions would be shattered -to atoms, his dreams destroyed and his heart broken? Would -he not curse her for ever having crossed his path? Would he -not tear the memory of the woman from his heart, who had -trifled with its most sacred heavings? He would die, but she! -She must live—live beside the man for whom she had sinned, -for whose personal ends she had spun this gigantic web of -deception. Otto would die:—he would not survive the shock -of the revelation. His sensitive, finely-strung temperament was -not proof against such unprecedented treachery. What the -Senator's shafts and catapults had failed to achieve,—the -Senator's wife would have accomplished! But the glory of the -deed? "Gloria Victis," he had said to her when she pointed the -chances of defeat. "Gloria Victis"—and she must live!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto loved her;—with a love so passionate and enduring -that even death would mock at separation.—They would -belong to each other ever after. It was not theirs to choose. -It seemed to her as if they had been destined for each other -from the begin of time, as if their souls had been one, even -before their birth. And all the trust reposed in her, all the love -given to her—how was she about to requite them? Were -her countrymen worthy the terrible sacrifice? Was Crescentius, -her husband? Had his rule ennobled him? Had his -rule ennobled the Romans? Were the motives not purely -personal?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew she had gone too far to recede. And even if she -would, nothing could now save the German King. The -avalanche which had been started could not be stopped. The -forces arrayed against Teutonic rule now defied the control of -him who had evoked them. How could she save the King?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Salvation for him lay only in immediate flight from Rome! -The very thought was madness. He would never consent. -Not all his love for her could prompt a deed of cowardice. -He would remain and perish,—and his blood would be -charged to her account in the book of final judgment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How long were these dreadful hours! They seemed never -ending like eternity. A moan broke from Stephania's lips. -She hid her burning face in her white arms. Oh, the misery -of this fatal love! There was no resisting it, there was no -renouncing it;—ever present in her soul, omnipotent in her -heart, it would not even cease with death; yea, perhaps this -was but the beginning.—Would she survive the terrible hour -of the final trial, when, a second Delilah, she called the -Philistines down upon her trusting foe? She moaned and tossed -as in the agues of a fever and only towards the gray dawn of -morning she fell into a fitful slumber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The preparations for his last rebellion against German rule -had kept the Senator of Rome within the walls of the formidable -keep, which since the days of Vitiges, the Goth, had defied -every assault, no matter who the assailant. Crescentius had -succeeded in repairing the breaches in the walls and in -strengthening the defences in a manner, which would cause every -attempt to carry the mausoleum by storm to appear an -undertaking as mad as it was hopeless. He had augmented his -Roman garrison, swelled by the men-at-arms of the Roman -barons pledged to his support, by Greek auxiliaries, drawn from -Torre del Grecco, and under his own personal supervision the -final preparations were being pushed to a close. His activity -was so strenuous that he appeared to be in the vaults and the -upper galleries of Castel San Angelo at the same time. He had -been seized with a restlessness which did not permit him to -remain long on any one spot. But the terrible misgivings -which filled his heart with drear forebodings, which, now it -was too late to recede, caused him to tremble before the final -issue, drove the Senator of Rome like a madman through the -corridors of the huge mausoleum. Had he in truth lost the -love of his wife? Then indeed was the victory of the son of -Theophano complete. He had robbed him of all, but life—a -life whose last spark should ignite the funeral torches for -the King and,—if it must be—for Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day was fading fast, when Crescentius mounted the -stairs which led to Stephania's apartments. His heart was -heavy with fear. This hour must set matters right between -them;—in this hour he must know the worst,—-and from -her own lips. She would not fail him at the final issue, of -that, as he knew her proud spirit, he was convinced. But -what availed that final issue, if he had lost the one jewel -in his crown, without which the crown itself was idle -mockery?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania's apartments were deserted. Where was his -wife? She never used to leave the Castello without informing -him of the goal of her journey. Times were uncertain and -the precaution well justified. With loud voice the Senator of -Rome called for Stephania's tirewoman. Receiving no -immediate reply, a terrible thought rushed through his head. -Perhaps she was even now with him,—with Otto! In its -undiminished vividness the scene at the Neptune temple arose -before him. What availed it to rave and to moan and to -shriek? Was it not his own doing,—rather the counsel of -one who perhaps rejoiced in his discomfiture? Crescentius' -hand went to his head. Was such black treachery conceivable? -Could Benilo,—-but no! Not even the fiend incarnate -would hatch out such a plot, tossing on a burning pillow of -anguish in sleepless midnight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was about to retrace his steps below, when the individual -desired, Stephania's tirewoman, appeared and informed the -Senator that her mistress had but just left, to seek an interview -with her confessor. A momentary sigh of relief came from the -lips of Crescentius. His fears had perhaps been groundless. -Still he felt the imperative necessity to obtain proof positive -of her innocence or guilt. Thus only could his soul find rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania had gone to her confessor. Fate itself would -never again throw such an opportunity in his way. And he -made such good speed, that, when he came within sight of the -ruins of the baths of Caracalla, he perceived by the advancing -torches, which the guards accompanying her litter carried, -that she had not yet reached her destination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Approaching closer, he saw them halt near the ruins and in -a few moments a woman, wrapt in a dark mantilla, stepped -from her litter, received by a bubbling, gesticulating monk, -in whom the Senator immediately recognized Fra Biccocco, -the companion of Nilus. Escorted by him, she walked hastily -into the ruins, and was soon lost to sight in their intricate -windings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Recalling the observations he had made on a previous -visit, Crescentius wound his way from the rear to the same -point, so that none of Stephania's retinue, who were laughing -and chatting among themselves, discerned him or even -discovered his presence. Then he rapidly threaded his way to the -chamber through which Fra Biccocco and Stephania had just -passed, boldly followed them into the clearing, from which -Nilus' cell was reached, and concealed himself in the long grass -until Biccocco returned from the hermit's cell. Then he -approached the monk's hermitage and took up his post of -observation in the shadows, out of sight but able to hear every -word which would be exchanged between Nilus and his -confessor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk of Gaëta had been far from anticipating a visitor -at this late hour. Seated at his stone table, he had been -reading some illuminated manuscript, when he suddenly laid down -the scroll and listened. The perfect stillness of the deserted -Aventine permitted some breathings of remote music from -the distant groves of Theodora to strike his ear, and after -listening for a time, he arose and traversed his cell with rapid -steps. He was about to reseat himself and to continue his -disquisition by the pale, flickering light of the candle burning -before a crucifix, when voices were audible and Biccocco -entered, having scarcely time to announce Stephania, ere she -followed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good even, Father,—be not startled,—I was returning -from my gardens of Egeria and I have brought your altar some -of its choicest flowers," she said in a hushed and timid voice, -while at the same time she offered the monk some beautiful -white roses of a late bloom. "Moreover, I would speak a few -words alone with you,—alone with you,—Father Biccocco,—with -your permission."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Biccocco, looking at her, as she threw back her mantle from -her shoulders, respectfully prepared to obey, almost wondering -that there could be on earth anything so wondrously beautiful -as this woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Biccocco, I command thee, stay!" exclaimed Nilus -starting up. "I would say—nay, daughter—is it thou? I -knew not at first,—my sight is dim—Biccocco, let no one -trouble me—but tears? What ails our gentle penitent? -Has she forgotten a whole string of Aves? Or what heavier -offence? It was but yesterday I counselled thee,—but a -few hours are so much to a woman.—Wherefore glow thy -cheeks with the fires of shame? Biccocco—leave us!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, I have sinned—yea, grievously sinned in these -few hours, since I have seen thee," said Stephania, when the -restraint of Biccocco's presence was removed, little suspecting -what listener had succeeded. "I have sinned and I repent,—but -even in my offence lies my greatest chastisement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Art well assured, that it is remorse, and not regret?" -replied the hermit of Gaëta. "Thy sex often mistakes one for -the other. But what is the matter? Surely it might not -prevent thee from taking thy needful rest, might bide the light -of day, to be told,—to be listened to,—yet—thou art -strangely pale!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been mad, father, crazed,—I know not what I -have done! I dare not look upon thee, and tell thee! Let me -arrange my flowers in thy chalice, while I speak," replied -Stephania, hiding her face in the fragrant bundle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so!" replied the monk. "Eye and gesture often -confess more than the apologizing lip! Kneel in thy wonted -place! No other attitude becomes thy dignity or mine;—for -either thou kneelest to the servant of God or thou debasest -thyself before the brother of man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania complied instantly, and Nilus, throwing himself -back in his chair, fixed his eyes on the crucifix before him, -without even glancing at the penitent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father—you had warned me of all the ills that would -befall," she began, almost inaudibly, "but I longed to see him -at my feet,—and more,—much more!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is all this?" said the monk turning very pale and -glancing at his fair penitent with a degree of fierceness mingled -with surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! You know not what a woman feels,—when—when—" She -paused, breathing hard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hast thou then committed a deadly sin? Some dark -adultery of the soul?" exclaimed Nilus. "Nay, daughter," -he continued, as she shrank within herself at his words, "I -speak too harshly now! But what more hast to say? Time -wears—and this soft cheek should be upon the down, or its -sweetness will not bloom as freshly as some of its rivals, at -dawn. Thou see'st this hermitage, from which thou wouldst -lure me, yields some recollections to brighten its desolation -and gloom. What is it thou wouldst say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania stared for a moment into the monk's face, at a -loss to grasp his meaning. At last she stammered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet—I but intended to win him to—some silly tryst,—wherein -I intended to deride his boyish passions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he refused thy lures and thou art vexed to have escaped -perdition?" said the monk, more mildly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay—for he came!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He came! Jest not in a matter like this! He came? -Thou knowest of all mankind I have reasons to wish this youth -well,—this one at least!" said Nilus somewhat incoherently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He came,—once,—twice,—many times! He came, -I say, and—-"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of him? Thou hast not had him harmed for -trusting his enemy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania's cheek took the hues of marble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Harmed? I would rather perish myself than that he -should come to harm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nilus was silent for a moment or two, and Stephania, as if -to take courage, timidly took his hand, holding it between her -own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must needs avow my whole offence," she stammered, -"he came,—and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why dost pause, daughter?" questioned the monk, with -penetrating look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay—but hear me!" continued Stephania. "I first -intended but to win his confidence,—then,—having drawn -him out—expose him to the just laughter of my court."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A most womanly deed! But where did this meeting take place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the Grottos of Egeria!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the Grottos of Egeria!" the monk repeated aghast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then," she continued with a great sadness in her -tone, "I never felt so strangely mad,—I would have him share -some offence, to justify the clamour I had provided, scarcely -I know how to believe it now myself.—I did to his lips,—what -I now do to your hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she kissed the monk's yellow hand with timid reverence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thou! Thou! Stephania,—the wife of Crescentius, and -not yet set in the first line of the book of shame!" shouted the -monk, convulsively starting at every word of his own climax. -"Begone—begone! The vessel is full, even to overflowing!—Tell -me no more,—tell me no more!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your suspicion indeed shows me all my ignominy," said -Stephania, groping for his hand, which he had snatched -furiously away. "But he only suffered it,—because he -guessed not my intent in the darkness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the darkness?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the darkness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Deemest thou it possible to clasp the plague and to evade -the contagion?" questioned the monk. "Woman, I command -thee, stop! Stop ere the condemning angel closes the -record!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania raised her head petulantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monk, thou knowest not all! During all this meeting the -Senator of Rome was present in the Grotto and watched us -from one of the ivy hollows in the cave!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Senator of Rome!" exclaimed the monk with evident -amazement. "How came he there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By contrivance!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not understand!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was at his behest that I have done the deed, to further -his vast projects, call it his ambition, if you will—to which -the King is the stumbling block. Ask me no more,—for I -will not answer!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nilus seemed struck dumb by the revelation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take comfort, daughter, he cannot,—he cannot—" -whispered the monk, bending over her and speaking in so low -a tone that the devouring listener could not distinguish one -word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a time not a word was to be heard, Nilus inclining his -ear to Stephania's lips, whose confession was oft times broken -by sobs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me all,—all!" said the monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As the fatal hour approaches the strength begins to -forsake me,—I cannot do it!" she groaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet he is the enemy of Rome, so you say," the monk -said mockingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is the friend of Rome and—I love him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a shriek the last words broke from her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Domine an me reliquisti!" shouted the monk. "Some -sign now—some sign—or—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His raving exclamation was cut short by a sound not unlike -the oracle implored. A large block of stone, dislodged by a -sudden and violent movement of the unseen listener, rolled -with a hollow rumble down into the vaults below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk started up from the benediction which he was -bending forward to pronounce, almost dashed Stephania -away, rushed to his altar and casting himself prostrate before -the divine symbol which adorned it, he muttered in a frantic -ecstasy of devotion:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gloria Domino! Gloria in Excelsis! Blessed be Thy -name for ever and ever! Praise ye the Lord! He saves in -the furnace of fire!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania gazed in mute amazement at the monk. His -frantic appeal and its apparent fulfilment had struck dismay -into her soul, and when at length he raised himself, and turned -towards her, she could hardly find words to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nilus waved his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go now, Stephania," he commanded. "Go! I will -devise some fitting penance at more leisure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Father—my request."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, truly," he replied, with supreme melancholy. "Is -it not the wont of the world to throw away the flower, when -we have withered it with our evil breath?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I cannot do it,—I cannot do it," Stephania moaned, -raising her hands imploringly to the monk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is for a mightier than Nilus to counsel," the monk -spoke mournfully. "Thou standest on the brink of a precipice, -from which nothing but the direct intervention of Heaven -can save thee! Pray to the Immaculate One for enlightenment, -and if the words of a monk have weight with thee, even against -him, thou callest thy lord before the world,—desist, ere -thou art engulfed in the black abyss, which yawns at thy -feet.—When he is dead, it will be too late!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And raising his lamp, to escort Stephania to her litter, the -monk and the woman left the chamber, and Crescentius had -barely time to conceal himself behind the boulders ere they -appeared and passed by him, the monk anxiously guiding -every step of his penitent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moon was sinking, when Stephania arrived at Castel -San Angelo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Taking the candle from the hands of the page, who had -awaited her return with sleepy eyes, she dismissed him and -passed into the lofty hall, dark and chill as a cellar, beyond -which lay the Senator's, her husband's, apartments. She -swiftly traversed the hall,—then she hesitated. No doubt -he was asleep. What good was there in waking him? As -she turned to retrace her steps to her own chamber, a strange -and eerie gust of wind swept shrieking round the battlements, -howled in the chimney, invaded the chamber with icy breath -and almost extinguished the candle. Then there was a great -hush. It seemed to her she could hear distant music from the -Aventine, the murmur of voices, the sound of iron chains from -the vaults below. To this,—or to death,—she had consigned -the son of Theophano, the boy-king, who loved her.—To -this?—Anguish and terror seized her soul. She felt, she -must not move—must not look. There it stood,—blacker -than the investing darkness,—its head bent,—shrouded in -the cowl of a monk. What was it? Once before she had seen -it,—then it had faded away in the gloom. But misfortune -rode invariably in its wake. She tried to scream, to call the -page, but her voice choked in her throat. She staggered toward -the door; her limbs refused to support her;—groaning she -covered her eyes. Otto down there,—or dead,—why had -she never thought of it before? Now the monk made a step -toward her; the face had nothing corpse-like in it, nothing -appalling, yet she felt a freezing and unearthly cold; almost -fainting she staggered up the narrow winding stairs. And -entering her lofty chamber Stephania fell unconscious upon -her couch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After Crescentius had returned from the hermitage of Nilus, -he gave strict orders to the guards of Castel San Angelo to -admit no one, no matter who might crave an audience, and -entering his own chamber, he lighted a candle. He had seen -and heard, and he knew that the heart of his wife had gone from -him for ever! At the terrible certainty he grew dizzy. A fearful -price he had paid for his perfidy,—and now, there was no -one in all the world he could trust. He dared not speak. He -dared not even breathe his anguish. She must never know -that he knew all,—no one must know. His lips must be -sealed. The world should never point at him,—for this at -least!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But terrible as his suffering must be his vengeance. He -who had robbed him of his priceless gem, the wife of his -soul, all he loved on earth,—he should languish and rot -under her very chambers, where she might nightly hear his -groans, without daring to plead for him. There was no further -time for parley. The stroke must fall at once! Too long had he -tarried. The Rubicon was passed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pacing up and down the gloomy chamber, Crescentius -paused before the sand-clock. It was near midnight. Yet -sleep was far from caressing his aching lids, as far as balm -from his aching heart. He raised the candle in an unconscious -effort, to go to his wife's apartment. He lingered. Then he -placed the candle down again and seated himself in a chair. -His gaze fell upon a broad stain on the floor and like one -fascinated he followed its least meander to a distance of several -feet from the door, when suddenly a form met his eyes, whether -the off-spring of his delirious fancy or one of those inexplicable -and tremendous phenomena, which are incapable of human -solution, while the secrets of death remain such. His garb -was that of a monk; the face bore the awful pallor of -the tomb, and a mournful tenderness seemed to struggle -with the rigidity of death. The phantom, if such it was, -stood perfectly motionless between Crescentius and the couch, -in a few moments it grew indistinct and finally faded into -air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was then only, that Crescentius recovered breath and -life, and staggered back to his chair. A few moments' rally -persuaded him that what he had seen had been merely the -illusion of his excited organs. But a dreadful longing for -death assailed him, a longing like that which prompts men -to leap when they gaze down a precipice. He rose,—again -the phantom seemed there,—this time distinct and clear. -Terror rendered him motionless; the room seemed to whirl -round, a million lights danced in his eyes, then he sank back -covering his face with his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he again opened his eyes, his brain seemed shooting -with the keenest darts of pain. He endeavoured to pray, -but could not. His ideas rushed confusedly through each -other. The taper was fast sinking in the socket, and it seemed -as if his mind would sink with it. He emptied a goblet of -wine which stood upon the table, and strove to remember -what he intended to do. It seemed a vain effort and he fell -back in his chair into a semi-conscious doze. An hour might -have passed thus, when he became aware of a slight crackling -noise in his ears and starting with a sensation of cold he looked -round. The fire in the chimney had burnt into red embers, -and though his own form was lost in the shadow of the chimney, -the rest of the room was faintly illumined by the crimson -glow from the grate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he saw the tapestry figure of some mythical -deity opposite his own seat stir; the tapestry swelled out, -then a head appeared, which peered cautiously round. The -body soon followed the head, and Crescentius rose with a sigh -of relief as he stood face to face with Benilo. The -Chamberlain's face was pale; his eyes, with their unsteady glow, -showed traces of wakefulness. He took from his doublet a -scroll which he placed into the outstretched hand of the Senator -of Rome. Mechanically Crescentius unrolled it. His hands -trembled as he superficially swept its contents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The barons pledge their support,—not a name is missing," -Benilo broke the silence in hushed tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it to be?" questioned Crescentius.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I speak for the extreme course and for Rome. For attack—sudden -and swift!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause, Crescentius stared into the dying embers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are all your plans complete?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Romans wait impatiently upon my words. At the -signal all Rome will rise to arms!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how about the Romans? Can they be depended upon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I move them at the raising of my hand!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was another pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius appeared strangely abstracted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what of Otto? What of Eckhardt? Do they scent -the wind from Castel San Angelo?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As for the Saxon cherub," Benilo replied with a disgusting -smile, "he is dreaming of his—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not finish the sentence, for Crescentius cast such a -terrible look upon him, that the blood froze in the traitor's -veins, and his eyes sank before those blazing upon him. After -a moment's hesitation he continued, the shadow of a forced -smile hovering round his thin, quivering lips:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When he is dead, we shall cause the Wonder-child to be -canonized!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Crescentius was in no jocular mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you chosen your men?" he queried curtly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They will be stationed in the labyrinth of the Minotaurus," -Benilo replied. "At the signal agreed upon, they will rush -forth and seize the King—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke those words the Chamberlain gazed timidly into -the Senator's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The signal will not fail," Crescentius replied firmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is the mausoleum prepared to withstand an assault?" -Benilo questioned guardedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hidden balistae have been disinterred. My Albanian -stradiotes and the Romagnole guards occupy the chief -approaches. The upper galleries are reserved for our Roman -allies. They will never scale these walls while Crescentius -lives. Remember—the gates of Rome are to be closed. We -will smother the Saxon under our caresses! I must have Otto -dead or alive! Revenge and Death are now written on my -standards! Up with the flag of rebellion and perdition to the -emperor and his hosts!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gray dawn was peeping into the windows of the Senator's -chamber, when Crescentius sought his couch for a brief and -fitful repose.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-lion-of-basalt"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE LION OF BASALT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-i.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t was midnight of a dark and -still evening on the Tiber and -peace had for the most part -descended upon the great city. -The lamps in the houses were -extinguished and the challenges -of the watch alone were now -and then to be heard. The -streets were deserted, for few -ventured abroad after night -fall. Sluggishly the turbid tide of the Tiber rolled towards -ancient Portus. The moon was hidden behind heavy cloudbanks, -and when now and then it pierced a rift in the nebulous -masses, it shed a spectral light over the silent hills, but to -plunge them back into abysmal darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bells from distant cloisters and convents were pealing -the midnight hour when out of the gloom of the waters there -passed a light skiff wherein were seated two men, closely -wrapped in their long, dark cloaks. The one seated on the -prow was bent almost double with age, and his long beard -swept the bottom of the skiff. He appeared indifferent to his -surroundings and stared straight before him into the darkness, -while his companion, constantly on the alert, never seemed to -take his eyes from the boatman who plied his oars in silence, -causing the frail craft to descend the river with great swiftness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last they made for the shore. An extensive mansion -loomed out of the gloom, which seemed to be the goal of their -journey. Obeying the whispered directions of the taller of -his passengers, the boatman steered his craft under a dark -archway, whence a flight of stairs led up to the door, of what -appeared to be a garden pavilion. Swiftly the sculler shot under -the arch and in another moment drew up by the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Leaning heavily on the arm of his companion the soothsayer -alighted from the skiff with slow and uncertain steps -and after ascending the water-stairs his guide knocked three -times at the door of the pavilion. It was instantly opened -and an African in fantastic livery, who seemed to fill the office -of Cubicular, beckoned them to enter. With all the signs of -exhaustion and the weariness of his years weighing heavily -upon him, the conjurer dropped into a seat, paying no heed -whatever to his surroundings nor to his companion, who had -withdrawn into the shadows, while he awaited the arrival of -the woman, who had called on his skill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not long to wait.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Noiselessly a door opened and the majestic and graceful -form of a woman glided into the pavilion, robed in a long black -cloak and closely veiled. She motioned to the attendants to -withdraw and to the astrologer to approach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Most learned doctor of astral science," she said in a soft -clear voice of command, "you have brought me the calculations -which your learning has enabled you to make as to the -future of the persons whose nativities were supplied to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The astrologer had been seized with a sudden violent fit of -coughing and some moments elapsed ere he seemed able to -speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So low and weak were his tones, that the woman could not -understand one word he uttered, and she began to exhibit -unequivocal signs of impatience, when the conjurer's voice -somewhat improved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The horoscopes," he said in a strangely jarring tone, "are -the most wonderful that our science has ever revealed to me. -They indicate most amazing changes of life, and signs of -imminent peril."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You speak of one,—or of both?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of both!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me the details of each horoscope!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The astrologer nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora watched him from behind her veil as closely as -he did her, for ever and anon he stole furtive glances at her -and was immediately seized with his cough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His voice grated strangely in her ear as he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The first, whose nativity I have calculated, is that of one -born thirty years, one hundred and seventeen days, and ten -hours from this moment. It was a birth under the sign of the -Serpent, at an hour charged with vast possibilities for the -future. At that instant the Zodiac was moved by portentous -lights and the earth shook with tremors as I have ascertained -in the records of our art!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are the signs of the future?" the woman interrupted -the speaker. "What is past and gone, we all know, even -without the aid of your profound wisdom. What of the future, -I ask?" she concluded imperiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate to impart to you what I have found," said the -astrologer cringing. "It is terrible. The declination of the -house of Death stands close to the right ascension of the house -of Life!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora gave a sudden start. For a moment she seemed -to lose her self-control. Her piercing eyes seemed to look the -astrologer through and through, though he had shrunk back -into the wide girth of his mantle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me the scroll!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stretched out a hand white as alabaster to take the -parchment whereon the astrologer had marked the rise and -fall of the star records. But, as if seized with a sudden fear, -she withdrew the hand ere the man of the stars could comply -with her request.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The second horoscope!" she spoke imperiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again a long fit of coughing prevented the astrologer from -speaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When it subsided, he said with profound solemnity, watching -her expression intently from between his half-closed lids:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That other, whose nativity you have sent to me, shall find -death,—death, sudden and shameful—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood rigid as a statue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me more!" she gasped. "Tell me more!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will die hated,—unlamented,—despised—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She drew a deep breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When shall that be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is at this moment a most ominous sign in the -heavens," replied the astrologer shrinking within himself. -"Venus, who rules the skies is obscured by too close attendance -upon a lower and less honourable star."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora held her breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What comes after?" she whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The lore of astral combinations does not reveal such -things. But palmistry may aid, where the constellations -fail. Deign to let me trace the lines in the palm of your hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Flinging aside her last reserve, Theodora in her eagerness -held out her palm to the astrologer. He bent over it, without -touching it, shaking his head, and muttering:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The line of life,—the line of love,—the line of death—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the astrologer pronounced the last word, his hand grasped -with a vice-like grip the one whose lines he had pretended to -read, while with the other, which had dropped the supporting -staff, he pushed back the loose sleeve of her gown, baring her -arm almost to the shoulder, constantly muttering:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The line of Death,—the line of Death,—the line of Death!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Theodora first felt the tightening grip on her wrist, -she tried to withdraw her hand, but her strength was not equal -to the task. She felt the benumbing pressure of what she -imagined were the astrologer's fleshless claws, but when, with -a motion almost too swift for one bent with age and infirmity, -he laid bare to the shoulder the marble whiteness of her arm, -she thought he had gone mad. But when the astrologer's -trembling finger pointed to the red birthmark on her arm, -just below her shoulder, resembling the claw of a raven, -constantly muttering: "The line of Death—the line of -Death," she uttered a piercing shriek for help, vainly -endeavouring to shake him off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shadow dashed between the two, neither knew whence it came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The astrologer saw the gleam of a dagger before his eyes, -felt its point strike against the corselet of mail beneath his -cloak, felt the weapon rebound and snap asunder, the fragments -falling at his feet, and releasing the woman, who stood -like an image of stone, he dropped his cloak and supporting -staff, and clove with one blow of his short double-edged sword -the skull of his assailant to the neck. With a piercing shriek -Theodora rushed from the Pavilion, followed in mad breathless -pursuit by the pseudo-astrologer, who had dropped his false -beard with his other disguises and stood revealed to her -terror-stricken gaze as Eckhardt, the Margrave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without heeding the warning cry of Hezilo, his companion, -he was bent upon taking the woman. In the darkness he could -hear the rush of her frightened footsteps through the corridors; -he seemed to gain upon her, when her giant Africans rushing -through another passage came between the Margrave and his -intended victim. Three steps did he make through the press -and three of her guards fell beneath his sword. But a stranger -in the labyrinth of the great pavilion, he could hardly hope -to gain his end, even if unimpeded, and Theodora's formidable -body-guard still outnumbered him three to one. Eckhardt's -doom would have been sealed had not at that very moment -Hezilo appeared in the passage behind him and laid an arresting -hand upon his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before the harper's well-known presence the Africans fell -back, raising their dead from the blood-stained floor and -skulking back into the dusk of the corridor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have no time to lose," urged the harper. "Follow -me!—Speak not,—question not. Remember your compact -and your oath."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt turned upon his guide like a lion at bay. His face -was pale as that of a corpse. His blood-shot eyes stared, as -if they must burst from their sockets; his hair bristled like -that of a maniac.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What care I?" he growled fiercely. "Compact or oath—what -care I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are other considerations at stake," replied Hezilo -calmly. "You promised to be guided by my counsel. The -hour of final reckoning is not yet at hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's breast heaved so violently, that it almost deprived -him of the faculty of speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Must I turn back at the very gates of fulfilment?" he -burst forth at last. But sheathing his weapon he reluctantly -followed the harper and, retracing their steps, they re-entered -the Pavilion. In the slain boatman they recognized the ghastly -features of John of the Catacombs, though the bravo's skull -was literally cloven in twain and a strange dread seized upon -them at the terrible revelation. Eckhardt stood by idly, while -the harper insisted upon removing the body, and wrapping his -ghastly burden in his blood-stained monkish gown, showed -small repugnance to carrying the bravo's carcass to the -landing, where he fastened a short iron chain to the gruesome -package and dropped it into the muddy waves of the Tiber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dark clouds swept over the face of the moon and the chill -wind of autumn moaned dismally through the spectral pines, -as the boat, propelled by the sturdy arms of Hezilo, flew up -stream over the murky, foam-crested waves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An icy hand seemed to grip Eckhardt's heart. The words wrung -from the dying wretch in the rock-caves under the Gemonian -stairs had proved true. In baring Theodora's left arm his eyes -had fallen upon the well-remembered birthmark resembling -the raven claw. The terrible revelation had for the nonce -almost upset his reason, and caused him prematurely to -drop his mask. All clarity of thought, all fixedness of purpose -had deserted him; he felt as one stunned by the blinding -blow of a maze. Dazed he stared before him into the gloom -of the autumnal night; his hair dishevelled, his eyelids swollen, -his lips compressed. He could not have uttered a word had -his life depended upon it. His tongue seemed to cleave to the -roof of his mouth; his brow was fevered, yet his hands were -cold as ice. At last then he had stood face to face with the -awful mystery, which had mocked his waking hours, his -dreams,—a mystery, even now but half guessed, but half -revealed. He tried to recall fragments of the monk's tale. -But his brain refused to work, steeped in the apathy of despair. -The future hour must give birth to the considerations of the -final step, to the closing chapters of his life. Yet he felt that -delay would engender madness; long brooding had shaken his -reason and swift action alone could now save it from tottering -to a hopeless fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The frail craft shot round the elbow-like bend of the Tiber -at the base of Aventine when Hezilo for the first time broke -the silence. He had refrained from questioning or commenting -on the result of their visit to the Groves. Now, pointing to -the ramparts of Castel San Angelo he whispered into Eckhardt's -ear:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are your forces beyond recall?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt stared up into the speaker's face, as if the latter -had addressed him in some strange tongue. Only after Hezilo -had repeated his question, Eckhardt roused himself from the -lethargy, which benumbed his senses and gazed in the direction -indicated by the harper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An errant moonbeam illumined just at this moment the -upper galleries of Hadrian's tomb. Straining his gaze towards -the ramparts of the formidable keep, Eckhardt strove to -discover a reason for Hezilo's warning. But the moon -disappeared behind a bank of clouds and at that moment the -sculler ran in shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unconsciously his hand tightened round the hilt of his sword.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The earth breeds hard men and weak men," he muttered. -"The gods can but laugh at them or grow wroth with them. -As for these Romelings,—they are not worth destroying. -They will perish of themselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hour is close at hand, when everything shall be -known to you," Hezilo turned to Eckhardt at parting. "But -three days remain to the full of the moon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Weary and sick at heart Eckhardt grasped the harper's -proffered hand, as they parted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was in no mood to return within the four walls of -his palace. He was as one upon whom has descended a thunder -bolt from Heaven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The terrible revelation deprived him of his senses, of his -energies, of the desire to live,—and there was little doubt -that this would have been Eckhardt's last night on earth, had -there not remained one purpose to his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How small did even that appear by the magnitude of the -crime, which had been visited upon his head. The how and -why and when remained as great a mystery to him as ever. -Eckhardt's memory roamed back into the years of the past. -He tried to recall every word Ginevra had spoken to him; -he tried to recall every wish her lips had expressed, he -tried to recall every unstinted caress. And with these -memories there rose up before his inner eye Ginevra's image and -with it there welled up from his heart an anguish so great, -that it drove the nails of his fingers deep into the flesh of his -clenched hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He remembered her strange request never to inquire into -her past, but to love her and let his trust be the proof of his -love. Then there came floating faintly, like phantoms on the -dark waves of his memory, her inordinate desire for power, -hinted rather than expressed,—then darkness swallowed, -everything else. Only boundless anguish remained, fathomless -despair. After a while his feelings suffered a reverse; they -changed to a hate of the woman as great as his love had been,—a -hate for the fateful siren, Rome, who had deprived him of all -that was dearest to him on earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bending his solitary steps towards the Capitol, he saw the -veil-like mists gathering above the wild grass, which waves -above the palaces of the Cæsars. On a mound of ruins he -stood with folded arms musing and intent. In the distance -lay the melancholy tombs of the Campagna and the circling -hills faintly outlined beneath the pale starlight. Not a breeze -stirred the dark cypresses and spectral pines. There was -something weird in the stillness of the skies, hushing the -desolate grandeur of the earth below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not gone very far when a shadow fell across his -path. Looking up he again found himself by the staircase of -the Lion of Basalt. The weird relic from the banks of the Nile -filled him with a strange dread. With a shudder he paused. -Was it the ghastly and spectral light or did the face of the old -Egyptian monster wear an aspect as that of life? The stony -eye-balls seemed bent upon him with a malignant scowl and -as he passed on and looked behind they appeared almost -preternaturally to follow his steps. A chill sank into his heart -when the sound of footsteps arrested him and Eckhardt stood -face to face with the hermit of Gaëta. He beckoned to the -monk to accompany him, vainly endeavouring to frame the -question, which hovered on his lips. The monk joined him in -silence. After walking some little way Nilus suddenly paused, -fixing his questioning gaze on the brooding face of his -companion. Then a strange expression passed into his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Life is full of strange surprises. Yet we cling to it, just -to keep out of the darkness through which we know not the way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sick at heart Eckhardt listened. How little the monk knew, -he thought, and Nilus was staggered at the haggard expression -of the Margrave's face, as he stumbled blindly and giddily -down the moonlit avenue beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would I had never seen her!" Eckhardt groaned. "In -what a fair disguise the fiend did come to tempt my soul!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused. The monk drew him onward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come with me to my hermitage! Thou art strangely -excited and do what thou mayest,—thou must follow out -thy destiny! Hesitate not to confide in me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My destiny!" Eckhardt replied. "Monk, do not mock -me! If thou hast any mystic power, read my soul and measure -its misery. I have no destiny, save despair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk regarded him strangely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because a woman is false and thy soul is weak, thou -needest not at once make bosom friends with despair. It is a -long time since I have been in the world. It is a long time -since I have abjured its vanities. Let him who has withstood -the terrible temptation, cast the first stone. For the flesh is -weak and the sin is as old as the world; And perchance even -the monk may be able to counsel, to guide thee in some -matters,—for verily thou standest on the brink of a precipice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am well-nigh mad!" Eckhardt replied wearily. "Were -there but a ray of light to guide my steps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nilus pointed upward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All light flows from the fountain-head of truth. Be true -to thyself! Life is duty! In its fulfilment alone can there be -happiness,—and in the renunciation of that, which has -been denied us by the Supreme Wisdom. No more than thou -canst reverse the wheel of time, no more canst thou compel -that dark power, Fate. And at best—what matters it for the -short space of this earthly existence? For believe me, the End -of Time is nigh,—and in the beyond all will be as if it had -never been."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nilus paused and their eyes met. And in silence Eckhardt -followed the monk among the ruins of the latter's abode.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the morning dawned, some fishermen dragging their -nets off St. Bartholomew's island pulled up from the muddy -waves the body of an old man clad in the loose garb of a monk. -But as the day grew older a new crime and fresh scandal -filled Forum and wine shops and the incident was forgotten -ere night-fall.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-last-tryst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE LAST TRYST</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he great clock on the tower -of San Sebastian struck the -second hour of night. The air -was so pure, so transparent, that -against the horizon the -snow-capped summit of Soracté was -visible, like a crown of -glittering crystal. Mysteriously the -stars twinkled in the fathomless -blue of the autumnal night. -Procession after procession traversed the city. From their -torches smoky spirals rose up to the starry skies. The pale -rays of the moon, the crimson glare of the torches, illumined -faces haggard with fear, seamed with anxiety and dread. -Despite the late hour, the people swarmed like ants, occupying -every point of vantage, climbing lantern poles and fallen -columns, armed with clubs, halberds, scythes, pitchforks and -staves. Here and there strange muffled forms were to be seen -mingling with the crowds, whispering here and there a word -into the ear of a chance passerby and vanishing like phantoms -into the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Among the many abroad in the city at this hour was Eckhardt. -He mistrusted the Romans, he mistrusted the Senator, -he mistrusted the monks. The fire of his own consuming -thoughts would not permit him to remain within the four walls -of his palace. Like a grim spectre of the past he stalked through -Rome, alone, unattended. How long would the terrible mystery -of his life continue to mock him? How much longer must he -bear the awful weight which was crushing his spirit with its -relentless agony? What availed his presence in Rome? The -king had long ceased to consult him on matters of state; -Benilo and Stephania possessed his whole ear—and Eckhardt -was no longer in his counsels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a degree of anxiety, which he had in vain endeavoured -to dispel, Eckhardt had watched the growing intimacy between -his sovereign and the Senator's wife. Time and again he had, -even at the risk of Otto's fierce displeasure, warned the King -against the danger lurking behind Stephania's mask of -friendship. Wearied and exasperated with his importunities, Otto -had asserted the sovereign, and Eckhardt's lips had remained -sealed ever since, though his watchfulness had not relaxed -one jot, and even while he endeavoured to lift the veil, which -enshrouded his own life, he remained circumspect and on the -alert, true to his promise to the Empress Theophano, now in -her grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sounds which on this night fell from every side on -Eckhardt's ear were not of a nature to dispel his misgivings -of the Roman temper. As by a subtle intuition he felt that they -were ripe for a change, though when and whence and how it -would come he could not guess. His own mood was as dark -as the sky-gloom lowering over the Seven Hills. Rome had -made of him what he was, Rome had poisoned his life with -the viper-sting of Ginevra's terrible deed, and now he longed -for nothing more than for some great event, which would toss -him into the foaming billows of strife, therein to sink and to -go under for ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drawing his mantle closer about him and lowering the vizor -of his helmet, Eckhardt slowly made his way through the -congested throngs. He had not proceeded very far, when he felt -some one pluck him by the mantle. Turning abruptly and -shaking himself free, from what he believed to be the clutches -of a beggar, he was about to dismiss the offender with an oath, -when to his surprise he beheld a woman dressed in the garb of -a peasant, but clearly disguised, as her speech gave the lie to -her affectation of low birth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are Eckhardt, the Margrave?" she asked timidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am Eckhardt," the general replied curtly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then lose no time to save him, else he will run into -perdition as sure as yonder moon shines down upon us. Oh! He -knows not the dangers that beset him;—on my knees I -implore you—-save him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I understand the meaning of your gibberish, doubt -not I will serve you! I pray you give me a glimpse of its -purport," replied the Margrave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman seemed so entirely wrapt up in her own business -that she did not heed Eckhardt's question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare not whisper the secret to any one else,—and my -Lord Benilo bade me seek you in case of danger. And if you -cannot move him from his mad purpose, he is lost, for never -was he so bent to have his own way. If you come with me, -you will find him waiting on the terrace,—and do your -best to lead him back,—else he will come to as evil an end -as a wasp in a bee's hive,—for all the honey!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And whom shall I find on the terrace?" asked Eckhardt -with ill-concealed impatience. He liked not the babbling -crone. "Cease your spurting and speak plainly, else go your -way:—I am not for such as you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It wants but a moment—whom else but your King, -for whom she has sent under pretext of important -business,—aye,—at this very hour and on the terraces of the -Minotaurus."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Otto,—important business,—Minotaurus—" repeated -Eckhardt. "Who has sent for him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it to me? Go your way, hoary pander,—what -is it to me? Hasten to him, who has paid you to tell this tale -and get your ransom from him! I wager, he knows the style -of old!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman did not move.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, my lord, that we all should go mad at one time," -she sobbed with evidently strong emotions, which were perhaps -not caused by the motive alleged. "Then I must away and -fulfil his destiny,—for a man cannot serve two masters,—nor -a woman either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something in the speaker's tone that caused a -shadow of apprehension to rise in Eckhardt's mind. Was -there more behind all this than she cared to confess? -"Fulfil his destiny"—these words at least were not her own. -A grave fear seized him. Otto might be ambushed,—carried -away,—he might rot in Castel San Angelo, and no man the -wiser for it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay! I will go and cross the boy's path to his guilty -paradise," repeated Eckhardt after permitting the woman to -draw away from him at a very slow and wistful pace and -overtaking her with a couple of strides. "Lead on, but do -not speak! I have no tongue to answer you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman immediately took the well-known route towards -the terraces of the Minotaurus and soon they reached the spot. -A covered archway at one extremity admitted on a terrace, -flanked on one side by a high dead wall of the Vatican, on the -other by a steep and precipitous slope, wooded with orange -trees and myrtle. This spot, little frequented in day time, was -deserted by night. The woman whispered that it was here, she -expected the King, and cautioning Eckhardt to remove him -with all speed from this danger zone, which offered no means -of escape, she precipitately retired, leaving Eckhardt alone to -meditate upon what he had heard, and to pursue his adventure -in the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Margrave hastened along the archway and peering into -the shadows he quickly discerned the slim outline of a man, -wrapt in an ample cloak, leaning against the dead wall at the -end of the platform. His eyes seemed fixed intently upon the -heavens, while an expression of impatience reigned uppermost -in the pale, thoughtful face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt quickly approached the edge of the terrace, where -he had discovered Otto, and although the King kept his face -averted, he could scarcely hope to escape recognition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Otto—the King—can it be?" Eckhardt said with -feigned surprise, as he faced the youth. "I beg your majesty's -pardon,—are you a lodger in yonder palace or how chances -it that you are here alone,—unattended?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay—since you know me," replied Otto with a forced -smile, "I will not deny my name nor business either. The -ladies of the Senator's court are fair, and an ancient crone -whispered to me at my devotions to Our Lady, on this terrace -and at this hour, if I prayed heartily, I should have good -news. Matter enough, I ween, to stir one's curiosity, -but,—I fear,—I should be alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The blood surged thickly through Eckhardt's brain. He -could scarcely breathe, as he listened to this falsehood and for -a few moments he gazed in silence on the flushed and paling -visage of the youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it possible that the air of Rome can even change a -nature like yours to utter a falsehood? My liege,—you are -not yourself!" Eckhardt exclaimed, discarding all reserve, -for he knew there was no time to be lost. And if perchance -the fair serpent that had lured him hither was nigh, -his words should strike her heart with shame and dismay. -"It is to Stephania you go,—it is Stephania, whom you await!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief pause during which a hectic flush chased -the deep pallor from Otto's face, as he passively listened to -the unaccustomed speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania," he repeated absently, and suffering his cloak -to drop aside in his absorption, he revealed the richness and -splendour of the garb beneath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The wife of the Senator of Rome!" Eckhardt supplemented -sternly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what if it be?" Otto responded with mingled petulancy -and confusion. "What if the Senator's consort has vouchsafed -me a private audience?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you beside yourself, King Otto? You venture into -this place alone,—unattended,—to please some woman's -whim,—a woman who is playing with you,—and will lead -you to perdition?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How dare you arraign your King and his deeds?" Otto -exclaimed fiercely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am here to save you—from yourself! You know not -the consequences of your deed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let them be what they will! I am here, to abide them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt crossed his arms over his broad chest as he -regarded the offspring of the vanquisher of the Saracens with -mingled scorn and pity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The spell is heavy upon you, here among the crimson and -purple flowers, where the Siren sings you to destruction," he -said with forced calmness. "But you shall no longer listen -to her voice, else you are lost. Otto,—Otto,—away with -me! We will leave this accursed spot and Rome together—for -ever! There is no other refuge for you from the spell of the -Sorceress."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for all the lands on which the sun sets to-night will -I refuse obedience to Stephania's call," Otto replied. "You -sorely mistake your place and presume too much on the -authority placed into your hands by the august Empress, my -mother. But attempt not to exercise mastery over your King -or to bend him to your will and purpose—for he will do as he -chooses!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has come to this then," replied Eckhardt without -stirring from the spot and utterly disregarding Otto's increasing -nervousness. "It has come to this! Are there no chaste and -fair maidens in your native land? Maidens of high birth and -lineage, fit to adorn an emperor's couch? Must you needs -come hither,—hither,—to this thrice accursed spot, to love -an alien, to love a Roman, and of all Romans, a married -woman—the wife of your arch-enemy, the Senator? Are you blind, -King Otto? Can you not see the game? You alone—of -all? Deem you the proud, merciless Stephania, the consort -of the Senator, who hates us Teutons more than he does the -fiend himself,—would meet you here in this secluded spot, -with her husband's knowledge,—with her husband's -connivance,—simply to listen to your dreams and vagaries? -Can you not see that you are but her dupe? King Otto, you -have refused to listen to my warnings:—there is sedition rife -in Rome. Retire to the Aventine, bar the gates to every one,—I -have despatched my fleetest messenger to Tivoli to recall our -contingents,—before dawn my Saxons shall hammer at the -gates of Rome!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto gazed at the speaker as if the latter addressed him in -some unknown tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sedition in Rome?" he replied like one wrapt in a dream. -"You are mad! The Romans love me! Even as I do them! -I will not stir an inch! I remain!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt breathed hard. He must carry his point; he felt -oppressed by the sense of a great danger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And thus it befalls," he said laughing aloud with the -excess of bitterness, "that to this hour I owe the achievement of -knowing the cause why you have declined the demands of the -Electors; that I can bear to them the answer to their -importunities; that in this hour I have learned the true reason -of your refusing to listen to your German subjects, who crave -your return, who love you and your glorious house! You say -you will remain! Revel then in your Eden, until she is weary -of you and Crescentius spares her the pains of the finish."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you raving?" exclaimed Otto furiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are mad for love, King Otto, and a frenzied lover is -the worst of fools!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The King blushed, with the consciousness either of his -innocence or guilt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since you accuse me," he spoke more calmly, but a strange -fire burning in his eyes, "I do not deny it,—Stephania -requested a meeting on matters pertaining to Rome, and I have -come! And here," Otto continued, inflexible determination -ringing in his tones—"and here I will await her, if all hell -or the swords of Rome barred the way. Do you hear me, -Eckhardt? Too long have I been the puppet of the Electors. -Too long have I suffered your tyranny. My will is -supreme,—and who so defies it, is a traitor!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt gazed fixedly into his sovereign's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"King Otto! Is it possible that you beguile yourself with -these specious pretexts? That you assail the honour of those -who have followed you hither, who have twice conquered -Rome for you? Ay,—no one so blind as he who will not see! -I tell you, Stephania is luring you into the betrayal of your -honour,—perhaps that of the Senator,—who knows? I -tell you she is deceiving you! Or,—if she pretends to love, -it is to betray you! You cannot resist her magic,—it is not in -humanity to do so, were it thrice subdued by years of fasting. -If you repel her now, your victory will be bought with your -destruction! Her undying hatred will mark you her own! -But if you succumb you are lost,—the Virgin herself could -not save you! You shall not remain! You shall not meet -her,—not as long as the light of these eyes can watch over your -credulous heart!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto had advanced a step. Vainly groping for words to vent -his wrath, he paced up and down before the trusted leader -of his hosts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he paused directly before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My Lord Eckhardt," he said, "it might content you to -rake amidst the slime of the city for matter, with which to -asperse a pure and beautiful woman,—as for myself, while -my hand can clutch the hilt of a sword, you shall not!" he -exclaimed, yielding at last to the voice of his fiery nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Strike then," Eckhardt replied, raising his arms. "I -have no weapon against my King!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto pushed the half drawn sword back into the scabbard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For this," he said, "you shall abide a reckoning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then let it be now!" Eckhardt exclaimed in a wild jeering -tone. "Go and bid Stephania arm her champion, one against -whom I may enter the lists, and I swear to you, that from his -false breast I will tear the truth, which you refuse to accept, -coming from your friends! But I am not in a mood to be -trifled with. You shall not remain, King Otto, and I swear -by these spurs, I will rather kill your paramour, than to see -you betrayed to the doom which awaits you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are life and death so absolutely in the hands of the -Margrave of Meissen?" replied Otto in a towering rage. "In -the face of your defiance I will tarry here and abide my -fortune."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And clutching Eckhardt's mantle, in his wrath, his eye met -the eye of the fearless general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a jerk the latter freed himself from Otto's grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fool in love: A thing that men spurn and women deride."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto's face turned deadly pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You dare? This to your King?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare everything to save you—everything! Otto—the -Romans mistrust you! They love you no longer! They are -ripe for a change! The longer you tarry, the fiercer will be -the strife. Crescentius would rather destroy the whole city -than let it be permanently wrested from his power. You have -been his dupe,—hark—do you hear those voices?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of all my enemies he is the one sincere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then he were the more dangerous! A fanatic is always -more powerful than a knave. Do you hear these voices, King -Otto?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto was pacing the terrace with feverish impatience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear nothing! I hear nothing! Go—and leave me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And know you sold,—betrayed,—by that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shadow crossed his path, noiseless on the velvety turf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before them stood Stephania.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Finish your words, my Lord Eckhardt," she said facing -the Margrave. "Pray, let not my presence mellow your -speech."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it shall not!" retorted Eckhardt hotly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it shall!" thundered Otto rushing upon him. "Upon -your life, Eckhardt, one insult and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania laid a tranquillizing finger on Otto's arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard all," she said, pale as marble, but smiling. -"And I forgive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have heard his accusation—and you forgive, Stephania?" -cried Otto, gazing incredulously into her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You had faith in me—I thank you—Otto!" she replied -softly, and sweeping by Eckhardt, she extended both hands to -the King. He grasped them tightly within his own and, bending -over them, pressed his fevered lips upon them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly all three raised their heads and listened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sound not unlike a distant trumpet blast, rent the stillness -of night, seemed to swell with the echoes from the hills, then -died away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is this?" the German leader questioned, puzzled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The monks are holding processions,—the streets are -swarming with the cassocks,—their chants can be heard -everywhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania gazed at Otto, as she answered Eckhardt's question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Margrave scrutinized her intently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew not the Senator loved the black crows so well, as -to furnish music to their march," he replied slowly. Then he -turned to the woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hear me, Stephania! You see me here, but you know -not that I have ordered all my men-at-arms to attend me at -the gates below! If the King's foolish passion and blind trust -have been the means to execute your hellish design, know -that with my own hand I will avenge your remorseless treachery, -for I will slay you if aught befall him in this night, and -hang your lord, the Senator of Rome, from the ramparts of -Castel San Angelo,—I swear it by the Five Wounds!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment Stephania stood petrified with terror and -unable to utter a single word in response. Then she turned -to Otto.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This man is mad! Order him begone,—or I will go myself. -He frightens me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made a movement as if to depart, but Otto, divining her -intention, barred the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania—remain!" he entreated. "Our general is -but prompted by an over great zeal for our welfare," he -concluded, restraining himself with an effort. Then breathing -hard, he extended his arm, and with flaming eyes spoke to -Eckhardt:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I go!" the general replied with heavy heart. "If anything -unusual happens in this night, King Otto, remember my -words—remember my warning. My men are stationed at the wicket, -through which you came. There is no other exit,—save to -perdition. I leave you—may the Saints keep you till we meet -again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With these words Eckhardt gathered his mantle about him -and stalked away, leisurely at first, as if to lull to sleep every -inkling of suspicion in Stephania, then faster and faster, and -at last he fairly flew up the winding road of Aventine. Those -whom he met shied out of his path, as if the fiend himself was -coming towards them and shaking their heads in grave wonder -and fear, muttered an Ave and told their beads.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Strange noises were in the air. The chants of the monks -were intermingled with the fierce howls and shrieks of a mob, -harangued by some demagogue, who fed their discontentment -with arguments after their own heart. Everywhere Eckhardt -met skulking countenances, scowling faces, while half-suppressed -oaths fell on his ear. Arrived on the Aventine he immediately -ordered Haco, Captain of the Imperial Guards, to his -presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bridle your charger and ride to Tivoli as if ten thousand -devils were on your heels," he said, handing the young officer -an order he had hurriedly and barbarously scratched on a -fragment of parchment. "Pass through the Tiburtine gate and -return with sunrise,—life and death depend upon your speed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Withdrawing immediately, Haco saddled his charger and -soon the echoes of his horse's hoofs died away in the distance, -while Eckhardt hurriedly entered the palace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After he had vanished from the labyrinth of the Minotaurus, -Otto and Stephania faced each other for a moment in silence. -The Southern night was very still. The noises from the city -had died down. By countless thousands the stars shone in -the deep, fathomless heavens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Otto who first broke the heavy silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania," he said, "why are you here to-night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a strange question," she replied, "and from you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—from me! From me to you. Is it because—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused as if oppressed by some great dread. He dared -not trust himself to speak those words in her hearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it because I love you?" she complemented the sentence, -drawing him down beside her. But the seed of doubt -Eckhardt had planted in his heart had taken root.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania," he said with a strange voice, without replying -directly to her question. "I have trusted in you and I will -continue to trust in you, even despite the whisperings of the -fiend,—until with my own eyes I behold you faithless. -Eckhardt has been with me all day," he continued with unsteady -voice, "he has warned me against you, he has warned me to -place no trust in your words, that you are but the instrument -of Crescentius; that he has organized a mutiny; that he but -awaits your signal for my destruction. He has warned me -that you have planned my seizure and selected this spot, to -prevent intervention. Stephania, answer me—is it so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment the woman gazed at him in dread silence, -unable to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you believe?" she faltered at last with averted gaze, -very pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am here!" he replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania laughed nervously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had forgotten!" she stammered. "How good of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto regarded her with silent wonder, not unmingled with -fear, for her countenance betrayed an anxiety he had never -read in it before. And indeed her restlessness and terror -seemed to increase with every moment. She answered Otto's -questions evidently without knowing what she said, and her -gaze turned frequently and with a devouring expression of -anxiety and dread toward Castel San Angelo. Maddened -and desperate with her own perfidy, she began to ruminate -the most violent extremities, without perceiving one exit from -the labyrinth of guile. The significance of Otto's question, -his earnestness and his faith in herself put the crown on her -misery. Her eyes grew dim and her senses were failing. -Her limbs quaked and for a moment she was unable to speak. -Otto bent over her in positive fear. The pale face looked -so deathlike that his heart quailed at the thought of -life,—life without her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot bear it—I cannot bear it," he muttered, holding -her hands in his tight grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed as if she had read his inmost, unspoken thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet it must come at last!" she replied softly, as from -the depths of a dream. "What is this short span of life for -such love as ours? And,—had we even everything we -could crave, all the world can give,—would there not be a -sting in each moment of happiness at the thought—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paused. Her head drooped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My happiness is to be with you," he stammered. "I -cannot count the cost!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think you that I would count the cost?" she said. "And -you love me despite of all those dreadful things, which -he—Eckhardt—has poured into your ear?" she continued with -low, purring voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Love you—love you!" he repeated wildly. "Oh, I have -loved you all my life, even before I saw you,—are you not the -embodied form of all those vague dreams of beauty, which -haunted my earliest childhood? That beauty, which I sought -yearningly, but oh! so vainly in all things, that breathe the divine -essence: the lustrous darkness of night, the glories of sunset, -the subtle perfume of the rose, the all-reflecting ocean of -poetry in which the Universe mirrors itself? In all have I -found the same deep void, which only love can fill. Not love -you," he continued covering both hands he held in his with -fevered kisses, "oh, Stephania, I love you better than -myself,—better than all things,—here and hereafter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Almost paralyzed with fear she listened to his mad pleading.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And can nothing—nothing,—destroy this love you have -for me?" she faltered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her yielding form in his arms. He drew her closer -and closer to his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing,—nothing,—nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love you—Otto—" she whispered deliriously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the end, dearest,—to the end!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From a tavern at the foot of the hill the sounds of high -revelry were borne up to them. The air was filled with -the odour of dead leaves and dying creation, that subtle -premonition of the end to come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you have anxiously waited my coming?" she said, -hiding her face in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Stephania! The hour-glass, with which passion -measures a lover's impatience, is a burning torch to his heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Supreme stillness intervened again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania raised her head like a deer in covert, listening -for the hunters, listening for the baying of the hounds, coming -nearer and nearer. Gladly at this moment would she have -given her life to undo what she had done. But it was too late. -Even this expiation would not avail! There was nothing now -to do, but to nerve herself for that supreme moment, when all -would be severed between them for aye and ever; when she -would stand before him the embodiment of deception; when -he would spurn her as one spurns the reptile, that repays the -caressing hand with its deadly sting; when he would curse her -perhaps,—cast from him for ever the woman who had cut -the thread of the life he had laid at her feet—and all, for -what?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That Johannes Crescentius, the Senator of Rome might -again come into his own, that he might again lord the -rabble which now skulked through the streets to avenge some -imaginary wrong on the head of the youth, whose love for -them was to be the pass word for his destruction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Johannes Crescentius was her husband and lord. He -loved her with as great a love as his nature was capable of, -and whatever faults might be laid at the door of his regime, -if faults they could even be termed in a lawless, feudal age, -that knew no right save might,—to her he had never been -untrue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania endeavoured to persuade herself that, what she -had done, she had done for the good of Rome. Monstrous -deception! She despised the mongrel rabble too heartily to -even have raised a finger in its behalf. If they starved, would -Crescentius give them bread? If they froze—would -Crescentius clothe them? Then there remained but the question, -should a Roman govern Rome, or the alien,—the foreigner. -Was it for her to decide? How unworthy the cause of the -sacrifice she was about to bring on the altar of her happiness. -But which ever way the tongue of the scales inclined,—it was -too late!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto had buried his head on Stephania's bosom. She had -encircled it with her arms and with gentle fingers that sent a -delirium through his brain, she stroked his soft brown hair, -while the cry of Delilah hovered on her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked up into her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania,—why are you here to-night?" he whispered -again, and he felt the tremor which quivered through her body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came to bring you the answer which you craved at our -last meeting," she replied softly. "Can you guess it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you have chosen," he gasped, as if he were suddenly -confronted with the crisis in his existence, when that which he -held dearest must either slip away from him for ever or remain -his through all eternity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have chosen!" she whispered, her arms tightening -round him, as if she would protect him against all the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kiss me," she moaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One delirious moment their lips met. They remained locked -in tight embrace, lip to lip, heart to heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brief breathless silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the great bell of the Capitol rolled in solemn and -majestic sounds upon the air, and was answered from all the -belfries of Rome. But louder than the pealing tocsin, above -the wild screaming and clanging of the bells rose the piercing -cry:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Death to the Saxon! Death to the King!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They both raised their heads and listened. With wild-eyed -wonder Otto gazed into Stephania's eyes. The marble statues -around them were hardly as white as her features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is this?" he questioned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a stir in the depths of the streets below. Shouts -and jeers of strident voices were broken by authoritative -commands. The tramp of mailed feet was remotely audible, but -above all the hubbub and din rose the cry:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Death to the Saxon! Death to the King!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the first peals of the great bell quivered on the silent -night air, Stephania had, with a low wail, encircled Otto's -head with her arms, pressed him closely to her, as if to shield -him from harm. Then, as louder and wilder the iron tongues -shrieked defiance through the air, as, turning her head, she -saw the fatal spear points of the Albanians gleaming through -the thicket, she suddenly shook him off. With a stifled outcry, -she rose to her feet; so abruptly that Otto staggered and would -have fallen, had he not in time caught himself with the aid of -a branch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the King it gave the impression of a wild hideous dream. -Like one dazed, he stared first at the woman, then down the -declivity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Directly beneath where he stood a scribe was haranguing -the crowds, descanting on the ancient glory of the Romans -and exhorting his listeners to exterminate all foreigners. From -Castel San Angelo came an incessant sound of trumpets, which, -mingling with the brazen roar of bells seemed to shake the -earth. Torches lighted the streets with their smoky crimson -glare. People hurried hither and thither, jostling, pushing, -trampling upon each other like black shadows, like living -phantoms. The fiery glow, the voices of the angry mob, the -pealing of the bells,—they all struck Stephania's heart with -a thousand talons of remorse and shame. Fearstruck -and trembling, she gazed into the pale face of Theophano's -son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto was watching the distant pandemonium as one would -gaze upon some strange, hideous ceremonial of occult -meaning,—then he turned slowly to Stephania.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment they faced each other in silence, then he -stroked the disordered hair from his forehead like one waking -from a dream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have betrayed me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her lips were tightly compressed; she made no reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next moment he was on his knees before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgive me, forgive me," he faltered, "I knew not what -I said!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She breathed hard. For a moment she closed her eyes in -mortal anguish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you still believe in me?" She spoke hardly above -a whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With all my heart," he replied, grasping her hands and -covering them with kisses. For a moment she suffered him -to exhaust his endearments, then she jerked them away from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then bid your hopes and dreams farewell and scatter your -faith to the winds," she shrieked, almost beside herself with the -memory of her vow and its consequences. "You are betrayed,—and -I have betrayed you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto had staggered to his feet and gazed upon the beautiful -apparition who faced him like some avenging fury, as if he -thought that she had gone suddenly mad. For a moment she -paused, as if summoning supreme energy for the execution of -her task, as if to lash herself into a paroxysm sufficient to make -her forget those accusing eyes and his all-mastering love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have betrayed you, Kong Otto! I, Stephania, a woman! -Ah! You believed my words! You were vain enough to -imagine that the wife of the Senator of Rome could love -you,—you,—her greatest foe, you, the Saxon, the alien, the intruder, -who came here to rob us of our own, to wrest the sceptre from -the rightful lord of the Seven Hills. You hoped Stephania -would aid you to realize your mad dreams! How unsophisticated, -how deliciously innocent is the King of the Germans! -Know then that I have lied to you, when I feigned interest in -your cause, know that I have lied to you when I professed to -love you! Love you," she cried, while her heart was breaking -with every word she hurled against him, who listened to her -speech in frozen terror. "Love you! Fool! And you were -mad enough to believe it! Do you hear those bells? Do you -hear the great tocsin from the Capitol? Do you hear the -alarums from the ramparts of Castel San Angelo? They are -calling the Romans to arms! They are summoning the Romans -to revolt! Do you hear those shouts? Death to the Germans? -They are for you,—for you,—for you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again she paused, breathing hard, collecting all her woman's -strength to finish what she had begun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The end had come,—her task must be finished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice now assumed its natural tones, the more dreadful -in their import, as she spoke in the old deep, soulful accents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have lulled you to sleep," she continued, breaking the -bridge, which led back into the past, span by span,—"that -the Senator of Rome may once again come into his own! I -have pretended interest in your monkish fancies, that Rome -may once more shake off the invader's accursed yoke. I am -a Roman, King Otto,—and I hate you,—hate you with every -beat of my heart, that beats for Rome. King Otto, you are -doomed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had listened to her words with wide, wondering eyes, -his heart frozen with terror and anguish, his face pale as that -of a corpse, returned from its grave. He heard voices in the -distance and the tread of armed feet coming nearer and nearer. -Yet he stirred not. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. -There were strange rushing sounds in his ears, like mocking -echoes of Stephania's words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last his lips moved, while with a desperate effort he tried -to shake off the spell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May God forgive you, Stephania," he gasped like a drowning -man, reeled and caught himself, gazing upon her with -delirious, burning eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Closer and closer came the tramp of mailed feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Terror struck, Stephania gazed into Otto's face. The -fiercest denunciation would not have so completely unnerved -her as the simple words of the youth. She almost succumbed -under the weight of her anguish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fly,—King Otto,—fly,—save yourself," she gasped, -staggering toward him in the endeavour to shake off the fatal -torpor which had seized his limbs. But he saw her not, he -heard not her warning. Listlessly he gazed into space.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But had those who rushed down the avenue been his enemies -and death his certain lot, there would not have been time for -flight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania heaved a sigh of relief as in their leader she -recognized the Margrave of Meissen, followed by a score or -more of the Saxon guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her own fate she never gave a thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you hear those sounds?" thundered the gaunt -German leader, rushing with drawn sword upon the scene and -pausing breathlessly before Stephania's victim. "Do you hear -the great bell of the Capitol, King Otto? All Rome is in -revolt! Did I not warn you against the wiles of the accursed -sorceress, who, like a vampire fed on your heart's blood? -But by the Almighty God, she shall not live to enjoy the fruits -of her hellish treason."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And suiting the action to the word, Eckhardt rushed upon -Stephania, who stood calmly awaiting his onslaught and -seemed to invite the stroke which threatened her life, for -her lips curled in haughty disdain and her gaze met Eckhardt's -in lofty scorn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sight of her peril accomplished what Stephania's efforts -had failed to do. Swift as thought Otto had hurled himself -between Eckhardt and his intended victim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back," he thundered with flaming eyes. "Only over my -dead body lies the way to her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's arm dropped, while a wrathful laugh broke -from his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are magnificent, King Otto! Defend the woman -who has foully betrayed you! Be it so! We have no time for -argument. Her life is forfeited and by the Eternal God, -Eckhardt never broke his oath. Follow me! We must reach the -Aventine, ere the Roman rabble bar the way. We are not -strong enough to break through their numbers and they swarm -like ants."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto stirred not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Calmly he gazed at the Margrave, as if the danger did in no -wise concern him. And while Eckhardt stamped his feet in -impotent rage, mingling a score or more pagan imprecations -with the very unchristian oaths he muttered between his -clenched teeth, Otto turned to Stephania. His voice was calm -and passionless as one's who has emerged from a terrible -ordeal and has nothing more to lose, nothing more to fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What will you do?" he said. "The streets are no safe -thoroughfare for you in this night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know not,—I care not," she replied with dead voice, -from which all its bewitching tones had faded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you must come with us!" he said. "My men shall -safely conduct you to Castel San Angelo. You have the word -of their King!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the flames of purgatory! Are you stark mad, King -Otto?" roared Eckhardt, almost beside himself with rage. -"Come with us she shall, but as hostage for Crescentius,—and -eye for eye,—tooth for tooth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not finish. Otto waved his hand petulantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The King of the Germans has pledged his word for -Stephania's safe conduct, and the King of the Germans will be -obeyed," he spoke, his voice the only calm and passionless -thing in all the storm and uproar, which assailed them on all -sides. "Through the secret passage lies her only safety. -She cannot go as she came!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's eyes fairly blazed with rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Secret passage!" he roared, nervously gripping the hilt -of his enormous sword. "Secret passage? Are you raving, -King Otto? What secret passage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But vainly did the Margrave endeavour to make his gestures -explain his denial. Otto cared not, if indeed he noted them at -all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He beckoned to Stephania.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come with us!" he spoke in the same apathetic, listless -tone. "Fear nothing. You have the word of the German -King,—he has never broken it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whether the terrible reproach implied in his words increased -the stifling anguish in her heart, whether she dared not trust -herself to speak, Stephania silently turned to go. But divining -her intent, Otto caught at her mantle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now by all the fiends!" shouted Eckhardt, unable longer -to restrain himself, dashing between Stephania and the King -and severing the latter's hold on the woman—"Since your -heart is set upon it, I will not harm the—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused involuntarily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For from Otto's eyes there flashed upon him such a -terrible look that even the old, practiced warrior stepped back -abashed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak the word and I will slay you with my own hands!" -spoke the son of Theophano, and for a moment subject and -king faced each other in the dread silence with flaming eyes, -and faces from which every trace of colour had faded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt lowered his weapon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His countenance betrayed untold anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You invite certain destruction, King Otto," he remonstrated -with subdued voice. "What matters it, if her countrymen -do slay her? One serpent the less in Rome! Your mercy -leads you to perdition,—-what mercy has she shown to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto had relapsed into his former state of apathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She goes with us," he said like an automaton, that knows -but one speech. "Through the secret passage lies her only -safety."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will betray it and you and all of us," growled the -German leader, whose very beard seemed to bristle with wrath -at Otto's obstinacy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have spoken!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Guards, close round!" thundered Eckhardt. "And -every dog of a Roman who approaches upon any pretext -whatsoever,—strike him dead without word or parley!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Saxon spearmen who had guarded the approach to the -avenue gathered hurriedly round them. For at that moment -the great bell of the Capitol, whose tolling had ceased for a -time, began its clamour anew and the shouts of the masses, -subdued and hushed during the interval, rose with increased -fury. They drowned the great sob of anguish, which had -welled up from Stephania's heart, but when Otto, his attention -distracted for the nonce by the uproar, turned round, the -woman had gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor did Eckhardt, inwardly rejoicing over the revelation, -grant him one moment's respite. Surrounded by his trusty -Saxon spears, Otto felt himself hurried along towards the gates -of his palace, which they reached in safety, the insurrection -having not yet spread to that region.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vainly had he strained his gaze into the haze of the moonlit -night. The end had come,—Stephania had gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he reached his chamber, Otto sank senseless on the floor.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-storm-of-castel-san-angelo"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE STORM OF CASTEL SAN ANGELO</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he sun of autumn hung -a bloody circle over Rome, but -seemed to give neither light nor -warmth. The city itself -presented a seething cauldron of -rebellion. The gates had been -closed against the advancing -Germans and when, with the -first streak of dawn, Haco had -arrived under the Marian -hill with the contingents from Tivoli, they found -themselves before a city, which had to be reconquered ere they -could even join the comparatively weak garrison on the -Aventine, where Otto was a prisoner in his own palace. During -the night Eckhardt had assayed to reach a place of concealment -on the Tiburtine road, where he awaited the arrival of his -forces, which he had immediately marshalled in their respective -positions. Castel San Angelo rested on an impregnable rock, -but Eckhardt had sworn a terrible oath, that he would scale -its walls before the sun of another day rose behind the Alban -hills; and although a rain of arrows and bolts, so dense and -deadly that it threatened to break the line of the assailants, -was poured into the German ranks, it did not stay their -determined advance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first line of assault consisted of heavy-armed -foot-soldiers with round bucklers, short swords and massive -battle-axes. Forming in close phalanx, these men of gigantic size, -in hauberks and round helmets, fixed shield to shield like an -iron wall, advanced in dense array to the charge. They were -led on the right wing by the imperial guard, whose huge -statures, fair long hair and gleaming halberds formed a strange -contrast to the lighter arms and the more pliant forms of the -defenders of Castel San Angelo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Roman army, which the Senator had stationed round -the base of his formidable stronghold, could not withstand the -shock of this tremendous phalanx, so far heavier in arms and -numbers, and with all their courage and skill they wavered -and broke into flight. Many were precipitated into the Tiber -and drowned miserably within sight of their helpless comrades; -most of them were mowed down by the pursuing German -cavalry or shot by the German archers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the terrible defeat of the Senator's army by the first -line of Eckhardt's battle-array, the squadrons of the second -line of battle spread over the plain, preparatory to the last and -final assault. The vast stronghold of the Senator looked as -proud and menacing as ever; reared upon its almost impenetrable -granite-foundation it formed even at this date one of -the most powerful fortresses of Western Europe. Its huge -battlements were defended with a long chain of covered towers, -from which Albanian bowmen shot down every living thing, -that approached the circuit of its walls. Every attempt to -scale the lofty stronghold with ladders had during former -sieges been beaten off with fearful loss, after desperate -combats at all hours of day and night. Although he had twice -stormed the walls of Rome, Eckhardt had never succeeded in -capturing the fortress, which he must call his own, who would -be master of the Seven Hills. But the wrath of the Margrave -defied every obstacle, laughed to scorn every impediment -which might retard his vengeance upon the cursed rabble of -Rome, those mongrel curs, with whom rebellion was a pastime -and for whom oaths existed but to be broken. All day long -the Germans had hurled themselves against the massive -walls, sustaining terrible losses, while those within the city -were equally severe. All day long they had plied their huge -catapults, which hurled masses of rock and iron into the city -and fortress, keeping up an incessant bombardment. They also -used the balista, an immense fixed cross-bar, which shot bolts -with extraordinary force and precision upon the battlements, -whereon nothing living could stand exposed without certain -destruction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seated motionless on his coal-black charger, like some dark -spirit of revenge, plainly visible from the ramparts of Castel -San Angelo, Eckhardt directed the assault of his army at this -point, or that, according as the situation required. Many an -arrow and stone struck the ground close by his side, but he -seemed to bear a charmed existence and never stirred an inch -from his chosen vantage ground. Already had a breach been -made in one or two places in the base of the walls, yet had he -not given the order to break into the city, but seemed to watch -for some weak spot in the defences. It was verging towards -evening. The besiegers could hear the cries and the rage of -those within the walls, who dared not remain in the streets -during the terrific rain of iron and stones hurled by the German -machines. Despite their strenuous efforts, Castel San Angelo -hurled defiance into the teeth of the Margrave, who demanded -its surrender, and the task of capturing the stronghold, -otherwise than by starving the garrison, seemed to hold out smaller -promise with every moment, as the sun hurried on his western -course. The sky became overcast and the night bade fair to be -stormy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the assaults of the day, Eckhardt had many times -strained his gaze towards the road leading to Tivoli, as if he -expected some succour from that direction, when, as the sun -was sinking in a crimson haze, a cloud of dust met the general's -gaze and at the same moment a thunderous shout rose from -the imperial hosts. Drawn by twelve oxen, there appeared at -the edge of the plain a new engine of assault, which Eckhardt -had ordered constructed, anticipating an emergency, such as -the present. It had remained with the host in Tivoli, and despite -the comparatively short distance, it had required almost -twenty-four hours to draw it over the sloping ground to Rome. -It was a tower of three stages, constructed of massive beams, -protected by frames and hides and crowned with a stout roof. -It was now being rolled forward on broad heavy wheels to -afford means of scaling the walls. As it slowly approached the -ramparts of Castel San Angelo, the assault of the Germans, -renewed on the whole line of the walls with redoubled fury, -presented a terrific sight. The catapults and balistae were -pouring stones, bolts and arrows on the defenders; the whizzing -of the missiles, the shouts of the assailants, answered by furious -yells from the walls, the roar of the flames, as here and there -a house near the city walls caught fire from burning pitch, -made a truly infernal din.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The turret is within twenty feet of the walls,—on a level -with the ramparts,—fifteen,—ten feet,—-down with the -scaling bridge!" shouted Haco, who was standing by the side -of Eckhardt. Crashing, the gang-way went from the front -of the pent house. But as he spoke, the soft earth, whereon -the turret stood, gave way. The gang-way fell short, the turret -toppled and split. The besieged hurled on it bolts, rocks, -boiling pitch and fire balls, and presently it collapsed with a -sudden crash and fell in a heap, mangling and burying the men -inside it and beneath it, and at once it blazed up, a mass of -burning timber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is, as I feared," said Eckhardt. "No turret lofty enough -to overtop these walls can be brought up to work on ground -like this. We must resort to the catapults! Let all be brought -into action at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The destruction of the great, movable turret, on the success -of which such hopes and fears had been placed, caused the -ranks of assailants and defenders to pause for a space, while -both were watching the spectacle of the blazing pile. A lull -ensued in the storm of battle, during which Eckhardt, while -he seemed to direct his men towards a certain point near the -walls, never released his gaze from Castel San Angelo. Then -he gave a whispered order to Haco, who set off at once on its -execution. An appalling crash rent the sky, as the German -machines began their simultaneous attack on the walls of -Rome, while a storming-column, forming under their protection, -rushed forth towards the gates of the city. The strain on -the mind of Eckhardt, who alone knew the intense crisis of -that moment, was almost unbearable. He must succeed this -very night; for on the morrow the peremptory order of the -Electors would recall his forces beyond the Alps. There would -be no respite; there could be no resistance. His only -salvation lay in their undaunted courage and their ignorance -of the impending decree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The evening grew more and more sultry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At intervals a gust came flying, raising the white dust -and rustling in the dying leaves. It passed by, leaving the -stillness on the Aventine more still than before. Nothing -was to be heard, save the dull, seemingly subterranean -growls of thunder, and against this low threatening and sullen -roar the pounding of Eckhardt's catapults against the walls. -At times a flash broke across the clouds; then all stood out -sharp and clear against the increasing darkness. Only the -watchfires of Castel San Angelo were reflected in the sluggish -tide of the Tiber, from which rose noisome odours of -backwater, rotting fern leaves and decaying wood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Piazza of St. Peter meanwhile presented a singular -spectacle, congested as it was with a multitude, which, in the -glare of the lightning, resembled one waving mass of heads,—a -cornfield before it has been swept by a tornado. It was an -infuriated mob, which listened to the harangue of Benilo, -interrupting the same ever and ever with the hysterical -shout: "Death to the Saxon! Death to the Emperor!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blood of St. John!" exclaimed an individual in the coarse -brown garb of a smith, "Why do we bellow here? Let us -to the Aventine—to the Aventine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eye met that of Il Gobbo the grave-digger. He -pounced upon him like an eagle on his prey, shaking him by -the shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gobbo! Dog! Assassin! Art deaf to good news! I -tell thee, there is strife in the city,—some new sedition! It -may be that our friends have conquered—down with the -tyrant and oppressor! Down with the Saxon! Down with -everything!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he laughed—a hoarse, mad laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We Romans shall yet be free,—think of it, thou villain,—a -thousand curses on thee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The artisan had correctly interpreted the temper of the -Romans, when he raised his shout: To the Aventine! To the -Aventine!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Romans! We give our enemies red war! War to the -knife!" screamed the speaker at the conclusion of his harangue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Death to the Saxons! Death to the King!" came the -answering yell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the midst of all this some partisan of the King ventured -to reason with the mob. It was impossible to distinguish in -the ensuing mêlée, but in the distance a man was being tossed -and torn by the mob. For a moment his white face rose above -the sea of heads, with all the despair which a drowning man -shows, when it rises for the last time above the waves, then -it sank back and something mangled and shapeless was flung -out into the great Piazza, where it lay still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the Aventine! To the Aventine!" shouted the mob, -and armed with all sorts of rude weapons they trooped off, -brandishing their clubs and staves and shouting confused -maledictions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Count Ludeger of the Palatinate, to whom Eckhardt had -entrusted the King's safety, had made sure that all approaches -were locked and barred, while he had disposed his spearmen -and archers in such a manner as to make it appear, in the -case of assault, that he commanded a much superior number, -than were actually at his disposal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The warlike Count Palatine, who, aroused on an alarm, had -instantly equipped himself with casque and sword, stood listening -to what was passing outside, sniffing the air and rolling -his eyes as if he desired nothing better than a conflict. -Arranging his archers round the barred gate, with the order to -hold their bows in readiness, he descended to the entrance -which was surrounded by a howling mob, who demanded -admittance or, if denied, declared they would enter by force. -After having surveyed the assailants through a wicket, and -having convinced himself that they were of the baser class, -he demanded to speak with the leader of the mob. A surly -individual, armed with a club, came boldly forward and -demanded to see the King.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For what purpose?" asked the Count Palatine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is,—as we choose!" replied the ruffian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time the archers had mounted the roof of the palace, -while Count Ludeger stood in the foreground. To him the -routing of such a rabble seemed a task not worth speaking of, -and it was not his intention to parley. He dared not open the -gates until he was prepared to act, therefore mounting a -balcony in the upper story of the palace, which looked over -the entrance, he stood fully visible from where the invaders -stood, whose numbers swelled with every moment. Then -advancing to the parapet, he made a signal, demanding silence, -and spoke in a voice audible to every ear in the throng:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dogs! You came hither thinking the palace was defenceless. -You wish to see the King. Off! Away with your foul -odours and your yelping throats! And if when you have turned -tail, any cur among you dares bark back, he shall pay for it -with an arrow through his chine! Away with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd seemed to waver and to look for their leader, -but the Count Palatine gave them little time. Raising his -hand he waved a signal to the archers. The low growling and -snarling of the mob swelled to a yell of terror, as three score -or more of their number fell under the hail of arrows. At the -same moment the gate of the palace was thrown open and the -guards charged the Roman mob with drawn swords, mowing -down all that were in their path. Back fell the first rank of -the rioters, pressing against those in the rear, and with an -outcry of terror the crowd scattered in flight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the balcony of his palace, Otto had witnessed the -scene which had just come to a close. He saw hatred and -vengeance around him in the eyes of the populace. He knew -himself to be hated, deserted, betrayed, most unjustly, most -cruelly, despite all he had done for the state and the people. -After the mob had departed, he retreated to his chamber. -Here his strength seemed utterly to forsake him. Calling his -attendants, they took from him his cloak, his diadem, and -his sword of state, they unlaced the imperial buskins and gilt -mail, in which he was encased. He seemed eager to fling from -him his gilded trappings, while his attendants watched him in -perplexity and fear. He spoke not, nor gave any sign.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At length Count Ludeger, presuming on his high office, -broke the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the Mother of God, we pray you, shake off this grief -and take heed of the manifold perils which surround your -throne and life. You are surrounded with traitors, intrigues -and plots! And the one—once nearest to your heart is your -greatest foe!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto raised his head and glared at the speaker like a lion -at bay, but spoke not, and again covered his face and sank -upon the couch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The storm clouds gathering over Rome were scarce as dark -as those on Count Ludeger's brow. For a time intense silence -prevailed. At last, carried away by Otto's mute despair, the -Curopalates ventured to approach the King and whispered a -word in his ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto looked up, pale, staring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Count Ludeger advanced and knelt before the emperor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My liege—what shall I say to the Electors?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a breathless silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Otto raised himself erect on his couch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say to them,—that I will die in Rome—in Rome—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He checked himself and looked round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave me! Begone all of you!" he said. "Set double -guards at the doors of this chamber and admit no one on pain -of death.—I choose to be alone to-night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And may not I even share my sovereign's solitude?" -questioned Benilo with a look of feigned concern in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish to be alone!" Otto replied, then he beckoned -Count Ludeger to his side. After all had departed, the King -turned to the Count Palatine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can we hold out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Count's visage reflected deep gloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All Rome is in the throes of revolt! All day Eckhardt has -been pounding the walls of Castel San Angelo—to no avail!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will storm the traitor's lair," Otto replied, "but then?" -he questioned as one dream-lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ludeger pointed to Northward. With a deep moan Otto's -head drooped and the scalding tears streamed down between -his fingers. Betrayed—betrayed! Not by Crescentius, his -natural, his hereditary foe, but by the woman whom he had -loved, whom he had worshipped, whom he still loved above -all else on earth. What was the possession of Rome, the rule -of the universe, to him without her? He could picture to -himself no happiness away from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Otto looked up, Count Ludeger was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a time there was stillness, deep, intense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dazzling flash of light, succeeded by a deafening peal of -thunder, that was like the wrath of a mighty God,—then came -darkness, the howling of the storm, the sobbing of bells tossed -and broken by the hurricane, into a wraith of dirge,—and -now, as by some fantastic freak of nature, as the wind rose -higher and higher, the iron tongue of the bell from the Capitol -came wrangling and discordant through the air, as if tortured -by some demon of despair. But the howlings and the tempest -and the roar of the thunder had a third, most terrible ally to make -that night memorable in Rome. It was the wrath of Eckhardt, -the Margrave, as he marshalled his hosts to the assault. -Terror-stricken the cowardly Romans scattered before the iron -avalanches that swept down upon them. The scythe of the -enraged mower made wide gaps in their lists and the dead and -dying strewed the field in every direction. Little did Eckhardt -care how many he mangled and maimed under the hoofs of -his iron-shod charger. Had all Rome been but one huge -funeral pyre, he would have exulted. Rome had not been kind -to him and the hour of vengeance was at hand at last!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The broken clangour of the bells of Rome, the bellowing of -the thunder through the valleys, the howling of the storm—and -the shouts of the storming files of his Germans struck -Otto's ear in fitful pauses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For this then he had journeyed to Rome! This was to be -the end of the dream!—The man he had trusted was a -traitor! The woman whose kisses still burnt upon his lips -had sold, betrayed him. The candle sank lower and the -shadows deepened; but the tempest howled like a legion of -demons over the seven-hilled city of Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What caused him to raise his head after a period of brooding, -Otto knew not, nor why the opposite wall with its drear flitting -shadows held his gaze spellbound. To his utter discomfiture -and amazement he saw the Venus panel noiselessly open, a -shadow glided into the chamber and the panel closed behind it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ere Otto could utter a word, Stephania stood before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose and receded before her, as one would before a -spectre. Hungrily, madly his eyes gazed into her pale face, -despairingly. A strange fire was alight in her orbs, as once -more she stood face to face with the youth, whose soul she had -absorbed as the vampire the soul of his victim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With fingers tightly interlaced she stood before him, then, -as he would not speak, she said with a strange smile:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see,—I have come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made no reply, but receded from her as some evil spirit -to the farthest nook of the chamber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a time she seemed at a loss how to proceed; when she -spoke again, there was a strange, jarring tone in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fear nothing!" she said, a great sadness vibrating in her -speech. "I came not hither to renew old scenes. What has -been is past for ever! Strange, that I had to come into your -life, King Otto, or that you had to cross the line of mine,—who -is to blame? You have once told me that you believe in -a Force, called Fate. You have convinced me now,—even -if my own suffering had not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How came you here?" Otto spoke, hardly above a whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania pointed below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Through the secret passage!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother of Christ!" he exclaimed. "Had they seen you -they would have killed you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A smile of disdain curved her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should have welcomed the release."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what do you want here—and at this hour?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your Saxons are storming Castel San Angelo. By a -feigned attack they lured its defenders to a part of the ramparts, -where no real danger threatened, but to scale the walls on their -rear. Send a messenger to Eckhardt to desist. Crescentius -is ready to treat for honourable terms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If there was indeed truth in her words, the message was lost -on him, to whom it was conveyed. His heart was dead to the -voice of gladness, as it was dead to any added pang of misery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thrice the Senator of Rome has broken his word! His fate -lies with himself!" he replied with a shrug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania's pallor deepened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stared at Otto out of large fear-struck eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would not give him over to your Saxons?" she -spoke impulsively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They will take him without that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Castel San Angelo has never been taken,—it shall never -be taken! King Otto! Think how many of your best soldiers -will be crushed and mangled in the assault,—be merciful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has Crescentius been merciful to me? I came not hither -to deprive him of his own.—I have not struck at the root of -his life.—He has taken from me the faith in all that is -human and divine,—and through you! A noble game you -have played for my soul! You have won, Stephania! But the -blood of Crescentius be on his own head!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a lull in the uproar of the elements without; -but new banks of threatening clouds were hurrying from the -West, gathering like armies of vengeful spirits over the -Seven-Hilled City, and shutting off every breath of air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An oppression throbbing with nameless fears was upon -them,—a hush, as if life had ceased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania, urged by a strange dread, had stepped to the -high oval window whence a view of Castel San Angelo was to -be obtained. And as she gazed out into the night with wildly -throbbing heart, she grew faint and wide-eyed for terror. A -dull roar, like muffled thunder, ceaselessly recurring, the -terrible shouts of Eckhardt's Saxons reached her ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Would the walls withstand their assault, ere she returned, -or would the defenders yield under the terrible hail of iron and -leave the Senator of Rome to his doom? Like knells of destiny -boom upon boom resounded through the wail of the rising gale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pressed her hands despairingly against her temples, as -if to calm their tempestuous throbbing, and her lips muttered -a prayer, while broken voices came through the storm,— -fragments of a chant from near-by cloisters:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ave Maria—Gratia Plena—Summa parens clementiae—Nocte -surgentes—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto had tiptoed to the doors of the chamber and after -carefully listening had locked them. The order he had given -to admit no one would secure for him a few moments of -immunity from interruption from without. Supporting -himself against a casement he endeavoured to master the awful -agony, which upheaved his soul at the sight of the woman who -had played with his holiest affections; he tried to speak once, -twice, but his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. He -thought he would choke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The brazen blast of a trumpet from the battlements of -Castel San Angelo caused him to approach and to step behind -Stephania. In the now almost continuous glare of the lightning -troops could be seen moving slowly along the walls and -base of the fortress. The air pealed with acclamations. A -thousand arrows from Frisian bowmen swept the defenders -from the walls. The battlements were left naked; ladders -were raised, ropes were slung, axes were brandished; of every -crevice and projection of the wall the assailants availed -themselves; they climbed on each other's shoulders, they leaped -from point to point; torches without number were now -showered on every thing that was combustible. At length a -stockade near the central defence took fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They fought no longer in darkness. The flames rolled -sheet on sheet upon their heads, mingling their glare with that -of the blazing horizon. But the issue was no longer doubtful. -Castel San Angelo was doomed. No longer it vindicated its -claim to being impregnable. The defenders, reduced in -number, exhausted by the ever and ever renewed and desperate -attacks, staring in the face of certain defeat, were becoming -visibly disheartened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Spellbound, both viewed the spectacle, which unfolded -itself to their awe-struck gaze. But there was no flush of -victory in Otto's face, no gladness in his eyes as, sick at the -sight, he turned away. His eyes returned to the woman -whose half-averted face shone out in the glow of the -conflagration. Never had it seemed to him so mystic, so unearthly, -so fair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The storm was drawing nearer; the thunder bellowed -louder through the heavens, the lightning flashes grew ever -brighter; the great bell from the Capitol, the lesser bells of -Rome, still shrieked forth their insistent clamour on the sultry -air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She silently drew near him, fixing him with her wondrous eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment the lightning rent the clouds and flashed -on her pale face. A peal of thunder, now quite overhead, -shook earth and sky, rolling through the air in majestic -reverberations. Slowly it died away into the great silence, -now again rent and broken by the German catapults, by the -renewed shouts of the defenders and assailants. Up to this -moment Stephania had still hoped that Castel San Angelo -would defy the united assaults of the storming Saxons; -suddenly, however, a shriek broke from her lips, she turned away -from the window and hid her face in her hands. Then she -rushed to where Otto was witnessing the progress of the assault -and fell on her knees before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Save him!" she moaned, raising her white clasped -hands in despairing entreaty. "Save him! Save him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He raised her and, looking into her face, he read therein -remorse and helpless entreaty. He knew that the moment -was irrevocable for both, final and solemn as death. He felt -he must break the pregnant silence, yet no word came to his -lips. The more he forced his will, to find a solution, the more -conscious he became of his own powerlessness and the depth -of the abyss which must divide them for ever more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Save him, Otto—save him!" she moaned, stretching -out her arms towards him,—"You alone can—you alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He receded from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could not save him, even if I would!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the woman became frantic in her fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The consciousness of the terrible wrong which Crescentius -had suffered at her hands, though the most subtle scrutiny of -her heart failed to accuse her of a deed, unworthy herself, -the unwitting instrument of Fate, added to her despair. She -must save the Senator of Rome, even if she should herself pay -the penalty of the crime of high treason, of which he stood -accused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will not have it said that you crushed your foe under -your heels," she cried. "You are too kind, too generous,—Otto! -The Senator's resistance is broken. He could not rise -a fourth time, if he would—you have conquered. Otto,—for -my sake,—by the memory of the past—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He raised his arms. Now he was himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop!" he said. "Why conjure up that memory which -you have so cruelly poisoned and defiled? There was -nothing,—even to life itself,—that I would not have given to you -in exchange for your love—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that it was not mine to give!" she moaned. "Can -you not see?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You should have remembered that, ere you slowly but -surely wove your net of deception round my heart. I loved -you! Foe of mine, as I knew you to be, I trusted you! See, -how you have requited this trust! See, what you have made -of me! You but entered my life to wreck it! Once I loved -the hours and the days and the nights and the stars, now my -heart is a burnt-out volcano. And you who have taken all -my life from me, now come to me crying for mercy for him, who -showed such wondrous mercy for me! And you too—you! -Did no pity ever enter your heart, when you saw that you were -mercilessly chaining my life to despair? And after you -revealed yourself his instrument,—Stephania, are you so mad -as to think, that I would save the man who insidiously wrecked -my life?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Almost frozen with horror Stephania had listened to the voice -she loved so well. The card she had played, the appeal to his -generous nature, had lost. She might have foreseen it. But -her wondrous beauty still exercised its fatal spell. The moments -were flying. She must save Crescentius from Eckhardt's wrath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You once told me that you loved me," she spoke with -choked, dry throat. "You accuse me of having deceived -you—ah! how little versed you are in reading a woman's heart!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And approaching him as of old, she took his hands into hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?" Otto replied, while her touch sent -the hot blood hurtling through his veins. "Some new conceit, -to gain your end?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head, while she gazed despairingly toward the -Senator's last defence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is not the time," she gasped. "On every moment -hangs a life! Otto, save him! Save him for my sake! Can -you not see that I love you? Think you, else I should be -here? Can you not see that this is my last atonement? Oh, -do not let me be guilty of this too! Save him,—save him, -ere it is too late!" she moaned, kneeling without releasing his -hands, on which she rested her head. "Save him,—save -him, King Otto—or his blood be on your head!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On my head? On my head?" exclaimed Otto. "Heaven -that has witnessed your unfathomable treachery can never -ratify this invocation! Never! Never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She glanced up despairingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Otto—he knows all! All! I saw it in his looks—though -he never spoke.—He knows—that—I love you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you do love me?" Otto replied with large wondering -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ask your own heart,—it will answer for mine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then if you love me,—be mine,—my wife,—my queen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I answer you at this moment, how can I? -Look yonder,—the stockades are afire,—your Saxons are -scaling the walls,—-Otto,—will you have it said that you -killed him to possess me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He snatched his hands away from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how can I save him, Stephania?—Collect your -woman's wit! How can I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how they swarm on the parapets!" she moaned. -"Mercy, King Otto,—ere it be too late!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let not the King know the mercy in Otto's heart," he -replied between irresolution and resentment. "But how can -I reach Eckhardt? And think you my messenger would move -him? Think you, he would listen to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are the sovereign! The King! Have you none that -you can send, that you can trust? None, fleet of foot and -discreet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto pondered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania's gaze was riveted on his face, as the eye of -the criminal about to be condemned, hangs on the countenance -of his judge, who speaks the sentence. At this moment loud -shouts came through the storm. The Germans were hoisting -new ladders for the assault. In the glare of the conflagration -and the incessant lightning they could be discerned swarming -like ants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Castel San Angelo appeared doomed indeed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto pushed Stephania into a recess, then he made one -bound towards the door. In the anteroom sat Benilo, the -Chamberlain. His usually placid countenance seemed in the -throes of a tremendous strain. Which way would the scales -sink in the balance? A straw might turn the tide of Fate. -Benilo waited. He held the last card in the great game. He -would only play it at the last moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Otto appeared on the threshold, he glanced up, then arose -hurriedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Victory is crowning your arms, King Otto!" he fawned, -pointing in the region of the assault. "Soon your hereditary -foe will be a myth—a—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto waved his hand impatiently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hasten to Castel San Angelo,—take the secret passage!—You -may yet arrive in time to place this order in -Eckhardt's hands!—Hurry—on every moment hangs a life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A life," gasped the Chamberlain. "Whose life?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Senator's!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! It is the order for his execution!" Benilo extended -his hand, to receive the scroll, while a strange fire gleamed -in his eyes. He had waited wisely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the order for Eckhardt,—to spare him! Hasten! -Lose not a moment! Through the secret passage!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo stared in Otto's face as if he thought he had gone -mad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Spare Crescentius? Your enemy? Spare the viper, that -has thrice stung you with its poison fang?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I implore you by our friendship,—go!—I will explain -all to you at a fitter hour;—now there is not time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Spare Crescentius!" Benilo repeated as if he were still -unable to grasp the meaning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Senator's men will lay no impediment in your way,—and -to my Germans you are known.—You will,—you must—arrive -in time—I pray you hasten—be gone—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sudden light of understanding seemed to flash athwart -Benilo's pale features. Through the open door he had seen a -woman's gown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Snatching up his skull-cap, he placed the order intrusted -to him inside his doublet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hasten," he spoke. "Not a moment shall be lost!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And rushing out of the chamber, he disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania had listened in awestruck wonder. What was -the friend of the Senator, the man who had counselled the -uprising, doing in the imperial ante-chamber at this hour? -But,—perchance this was but another mesh in the great -web of intrigue, which the Romans had spun round their -unsuspecting foes. Perhaps,—she trembled, as she thought -out the thought,—he was to seize the King, if Crescentius -was victorious. He had never left the youth.—Had the -Chamberlain become his sovereign's jailer? The ideas rushed -confusedly through her brain, where but the one faint hope -still glimmered, that Crescentius would escape his doom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Otto entered, she held out both hands to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I thank you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He warded them off, and stepped to the window, whence the -progress of the assault could be watched in the intermittent -flashes of lightning. The raging storm had temporarily -drowned the signals and cries of the combatants, but though -the clouds hung low and heavily freighted over the city, not -a drop of rain fell. The lightning became more incessant; -soon it seemed as if the entire horizon was ablaze and the -thunder bellowed in one continuous roar over the Seven Hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania had stepped to Otto's side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must go," she said with indescribable mournfulness in -her tones. "My place is by his side! Living—or dead! -Farewell, King Otto, and forgive—if you can!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stretched out her hands towards him. It seemed to -him, as if a dark veil was suddenly drawn before his eyes. -Despite the lightning there was nothing but a great darkness -around him. His victory would cause a wider, more abysmal -gulf between them than his defeat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If she went from him in this hour, he knew they would never -meet on earth again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At her words he turned and vainly endeavouring to steady -his voice, he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania,—I cannot let you go! Remain here, until -the worst is over! It would mean certain death to you, if my -men discovered you,—and perhaps you would hardly escape -a similar fate at the hands of your own countrymen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My place is by his side,—no matter what befall! If I -am killed,—never was death more welcome! Farewell, -Otto—farewell—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice broke. She covered her face with her hands and -sobbed piteously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drew them down with gentle force.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not my purpose to detain you here! All I ask of you, -is to wait, until my order has had time to reach Eckhardt. -After the Senator has yielded,—you may go to him,—I will -then myself have you escorted to Castel San Angelo. For the -sake of the past,—wait!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The past! The past! That can never, never be revived!" -she moaned. "Oh, that I were dead, that I were dead!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My love,—my own,—I cannot hear you speak thus—take -courage! I have long forgiven you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her head rested on his shoulders. For a moment they seemed -to have forgotten the world and all around them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the rush of mailed feet resounded in the ante-room. -The door of the chamber was unceremoniously thrust open -and Haco, captain of the imperial guard, entered the apartment, -recoiling almost as quickly as he had done so, at the unexpected -sight which met his gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How dare you?" Otto accosted him with flaming eyes, -while Stephania had retreated into the shadows, covering her -face, which was pale as death, with her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's envoy prostrated himself before the King.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I crave the King's pardon—it was my Lord Eckhardt's -command to carry straight and unannounced the tidings to -the King's ear—your hosts have stormed Castel San Angelo! -Your enemy is no more!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rise!" thundered Otto, while Stephania had rushed with -a pitiful moan of anguish from her retreat, and was gazing at -the messenger, as if life and death sat on his lips. "What -do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But ere the man could answer, a terrible shriek by his side -caused Otto to start. Stephania had rushed to the window. -Following the direction of her gaze, his heart sank within him -with the weight of his own despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A body was seen swinging from the ramparts,—it needed -neither soothsayer nor prophet to explain what had befallen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt had kept his oath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When the imperial Chamberlain told him that you were -here with the King," Haco addressed the woman, who stared -with wide-eyed despair from one to the other, "Crescentius -charged in person the invading hosts. Struck down twice, -he staggered again to his feet, fighting like a madman in the -face of certain death and against fearful odds. When he fell -the third time, Eckhardt ordered him suspended from the -battlements—to save him the trouble of rising again!" the -captain concluded in grim humour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of my pardon for the Senator?" gasped Otto.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know of no pardon," replied Haco.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The pardon of which Benilo was the bearer," Otto repeated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haco stared at the King, as if he thought him demented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was the order for the Senator's execution, which the -Chamberlain placed in Eckhardt's hand," he replied, "to take -place immediately upon his capture."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! This is your work then!" Stephania broke the -terrible silence, which hung over them like suspended -destinies,—creeping towards Otto and pointing to the ramparts -of Castel San Angelo, on which the imperial standard was -being hoisted. "This you have done to me!—You have -lied to me, detaining me here when I should have been -with him,—whose dying hour I have filled with a despair -that all eternity cannot alleviate,—let me go—I tell you, let -me go! Fiend! traitor,—let me go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She fought him in wild despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto had barred her way. Releasing her, he looked straight -into her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your own heart tells you, Stephania, this is the work of -a traitor,—not mine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gazed at him one moment. She knew his words to be -true. But she would not listen to the voice of reason, when -her conscience doubly smote her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go!" she shrieked. "Let me go! My place is -by the side of him you have foully slain,—murdered—after -luring me away from him in his dying hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know not what you say, Stephania. Your grief has -maddened you! Is not the word of the King assurance enough, -that he himself is the victim of some as yet unfathomable -deceit? By the memory of my mother I swear to you—I -never wrote that order! Remain here until I hear from -Eckhardt,—your safety—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who tells you that I wish to be saved?" she cried like a -lioness at bay. "Remain here with you, whose hands are -stained with his blood? Not another moment! You have -no claim on Stephania! A crimson gulf has swallowed up -the past and his shade divides us in death as it has divided -us in life! You shall never boast that you have conquered the -wife of the Senator of Rome!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He raised his arms entreatingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sprang at him to gain the entrance to the Venus panel, -which he covered with his person. For a moment he held her -at bay, then she pushed him aside, rushed past him and -disappeared in the dark passage, the door of which closed -behind her with a sharp clang. She vanished in the -subterranean gloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haco had silently witnessed the scene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto seemed to have forgotten his presence, when turning -he found himself face to face with the trusty Saxon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you say—execution?" he addressed the man, his -brain whirling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Signed by the King!" came the laconic reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may go! Bid Eckhardt repair hither at the earliest!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haco departed. Broken in mind and spirit Otto remained -alone. Victory had crowned his cause,—but Death reigned -in his heart.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-forfeit"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE FORFEIT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="C" src="images/img-cap-c.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>rescentius was dead. -Stephania's fate was left to the -surmise of the victors. Since -she had parted from Otto in that -eventful night, no one had seen -the beautiful wife of the luckless -Lord of Castel San Angelo. -Eckhardt was gloomier than -ever. The storm of the ancient -mausoleum had been accomplished -with a terrible loss to the victors. The Romans, awed -for a time into submission, showed ever new symptoms of -dissatisfaction, and it was evident that in the event of a new -outbreak, the small band constituting the emperor's bodyguard -would not be able to hold out against the enmity of the -conquered. The monkish processions continued day and night, -and as the Millennium drew nearer and nearer the frenzied -fervour of the masses rose to fever height. Fear and -apprehension increased with the impending hour, the hour that -should witness the End of Time and the final judgment of God. -Since the storm of Castel San Angelo, Otto had locked himself -in his chamber in the palace on the Aventine. No one save -Benilo, Eckhardt and Sylvester, the silver-haired pontiff, had -access to his person. Benilo had so far succeeded in purging -himself from the stain of treason, which clung to him since the -summary execution of Crescentius, that he had been entirely -restored into Otto's confidence and favour. It was not difficult -for one, gifted with his consummate art of dissimulation, to -convince Otto, that in the heat of combat, the passions inflamed -to fever-heat, his general had mistaken the order; and Eckhardt, -when questioned thereon, exhibited such unequivocal -disgust, even to the point of flatly refusing to discuss the matter, -that Benilo appeared in a manner justified, the more so, as -the order itself could not be produced against him, Eckhardt -having cast it into the flames. His vengeance had not however -been satisfied with the death of Crescentius alone, for on the -morning after the capture of the fortress, eleven bodies were to -be seen swinging from the gibbets on Monte Malo, the carcasses -of those who in a fatal hour had pledged themselves to the -Senator's support.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So far the Chamberlain's victory seemed complete.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crescentius and the barons inimical to his schemes were -destroyed. There now remained but Otto and Eckhardt, and -a handful of Saxons; for the main body of the army had -marched Northward with Count Ludeger of the Palatinate, who -had exhausted every effort to induce Otto to follow him. Had -Crescentius beaten off Eckhardt's assault, Benilo would in that -fatal night have consigned his imperial friend to the dungeons -of Castel San Angelo. For this he had assiduously watched in -the ante-chamber. At a signal a chosen body of men stationed -in the gardens below were to seize the German King and hurry -him through the secret passage to Hadrian's tomb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There now remained but one problem to deal with. With -the removal of the last impediment, arrived on the last stepping -stone to the realization of his ambition, Benilo could offer -Theodora what in the delirium of anticipated possession he -had promised, with no intention of fulfilling. He had not -then reckoned with the woman's terrible temper, he had not -reckoned with the blood of Marozia. She had by stages roused -her discarded lover's jealousy to a delirium, which had vented -itself in the mad wager, which he must win—or perish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But one day remained until the full of the moon, but one -day within which Theodora might make good her boast. -Benilo, who had her carefully watched, knew that Eckhardt had -not revisited the groves, he had even reason to believe that -Theodora had abandoned every effort to that end. Was she at -last convinced of the futility of her endeavour? Or had she -some other scheme in mind, which she kept carefully concealed? -The Chamberlain felt ill at ease.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Eckhardt, he should never leave the groves a living -man. Victor or vanquished, he was doomed. Then Otto was -at his mercy. He would deal with the youth according to -the dictates of the hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Benilo had on that morning parted from Otto in the -peristyle of the "Golden House" on the Aventine, he knew -that sombre exultation, which follows upon triumph in evil. -Hesitancies were now at an end. No longer could he be -distracted between two desires. In his eye, at the memory of -the woman, for whom he had damned himself, there glowed -the fire of a fiendish joy. Not without inner detriment had -Benilo accustomed himself for years to wear a double face. -Even had his purposes been pure, the habit of assiduous -perfidy, of elaborate falsehood, could not leave his countenance -untainted. A traitor for his own ends, he found himself -moving in no unfamiliar element, and all his energies now -centred themselves upon the achievement of his crime, to -him a crime no longer from the instant that he had irresistibly -willed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On fire to his finger-tips, he could yet reason with the -coldest clarity of thought. Having betrayed his imperial -friend so far, he must needs betray him to the extremity of -traitorhood. He must lead Eckhardt on to the fatal brink, -then deliver the decisive blow which should destroy both. -But a blacker thought than any he had yet nurtured began -to stir in his mind, raising its head like a viper. Could he -but discover Stephania! Then indeed his triumph would be -complete!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On that point alone Otto had maintained a silence as of the -grave even towards the Chamberlain, to whom he was wont -to lay bare the innermost recesses of his soul. Never in his -presence had he even breathed Stephania's name. Yet Benilo -had seen the wife of the Senator in the King's chamber in the -eventful night of the storm of Castel San Angelo, and his -serpent-wisdom was not to be decoyed with pretexts, regarding -the true cause of Otto's illness and devouring grief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But lust-bitten to madness, the thoughts uppermost in -Benilo's mind reverted ever to the wager,—to the woman. -Theodora must be his, at any, at every cost. But one day -now remained till the hour;—he winced at the thought. -Vainly he reminded himself that even therein lay the greater -chance. How much might happen in the brief eternity of one -day; how much, if the opportunities were but turned to -proper account. But was it wise to wait the fatal hour? -He had not had speech with Theodora since she had laid the -whip-lash on his cheek. The blow still smarted and the memory -of the deadly insult stung him to immediate action. Once -more he would bend his steps to her presence; once more he -would try what persuasion might do; then, should fortune -smile upon him, should the woman relent, he would have -removed from his path the greater peril, and be prepared to -deal with every emergency.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How he lived through the day he knew not. Hour after -hour crawled by, an eternity of harrowing suspense. And -even while wishing for the day's end, he dreaded the coming -of the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Benilo was thus weighing the chances of success, -Theodora sat in her gilded chamber brooding with wildly -beating heart over what the future held in its tightly closed -hand. The hour was approaching, when she must win the -fatal wager, else—she dared not think out the thought. -Would the memory of Eckhardt sleep in the cradle of a darker -memory, which she herself must leave behind? As in response -to her unspoken query a shout of laughter rose from the groves -and Theodora listened whitening to the lips. She knew the -hated sound of Roxané's voice; with a gesture of profound -irritation and disgust, she rose and fled to the safety of her -remotest chamber, where she dropped upon an ottoman in -utter weariness. Oh! not to have to listen to these sounds -on this evening of all,—on this evening on which hung the -fate of her life! Her mind was made up. She could stand -the terrible strain no longer. One by one she had seen those -vanish, whom in a moment of senseless folly she had called -her friends. Only one would not vanish; one who seemed to -emerge hale from every trap, which the hunter had laid,—her -betrayer,—her tormentor, he who on this very eve would -feast his eyes on her vanquished pride, he, who hoped to fold -her this very night in his odious embrace. The very thought -was worse than death. To what a life had his villainy, his -treachery consigned her! Days of anguish and fear, nights -of dread and remorse! Her life had been a curse. She had -brought misfortune and disaster upon the heads of all, who -had loved her; the accursed wanton blood of Marozia, which -coursed through her veins, had tainted her even before her -birth. There was but one atonement—Death! She had -abandoned the wager. But she had despatched her strange -counsellor, Hezilo, to seek out Eckhardt and to conduct him -this very night to her presence. How he accomplished it, she -cared not, little guessing the bait he possessed in a knowledge -she did not suspect. She would confess everything to him,—her -life would pay the forfeit;—she would be at rest, where -she might nevermore behold the devilish face of her tormentor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a fixed, almost vacant stare, her eyes were riveted on -the door, as if every moment she expected to see the one man -enter, whom she most feared in this hour and for whom she -most longed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This then is the end! This the end!" she sobbed convulsively, -setting her teeth deep into the cushions in which -she hid her face, while a torrent of scalding tears, the -first she had shed in years, rushed from her half-closed -eyelids.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the path she had chosen, there led no way back into -the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had played the great game of life and she had lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She might have worn its choicest crown in the love of the -man whom she had deceived, discarded, betrayed, and now it -was too late.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But if Eckhardt should not come?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If the harper should not succeed?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again she relapsed into her reverie. She almost wished his -mission would fail. She almost wished that Eckhardt would -refuse to again accompany him to the groves. Again she -relived the scene of that night, when he had laid bare her arm -in the search for the fatal birth-mark. The terrible expression -which had passed into his eyes had haunted her night and day. -A deadly fear of him seized her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She dared not remain. She dared not face him again. The -very ground she trod seemed to scorch her feet. She must -away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The morrow should find her far from Rome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thought seemed to imbue her with new energy and -strength. How she wished this night were ended! Again the -shouts and laughter from the gardens beneath her window -broke on her ear. She closed the blinds to exclude the sounds. -But they would not be excluded. Ever and ever they continued -to mock her. The air was hot and sultry even to suffocation: -still she must prepare the most necessary things for her journey, -all the precious gems and stones which would be considered a -welcome offering at any cloister. These she concealed in a -mantle in which she would escape unheeded and unnoticed -from these halls, over which she had lorded with her dire, evil -beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had scarcely completed her preparations when the sound -of footsteps behind the curtain caused her to start with a low -outcry of fear. Everything was an object of terror to her now -and she had barely regained her self-possession when the -parting draperies revealed the hated presence of Benilo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment they faced each other in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a withering smile on his thin, compressed lips, the -Chamberlain bowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was informed you were awaiting some one," he said with -ill-concealed mockery in his tones. "I am here to witness -your conquest, to pay my forfeit,—or to claim it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Theodora with difficulty retained her composure; yet she -endeavoured to appear unconcerned and to conceal her -purpose. Her eyelids narrowed as she regarded the man who -had destroyed her life. Then she replied:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no wager."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was once a man who betrayed his master for thirty -pieces of silver. But when his master was taken, he cast the -money on the floor of the temple, went forth and hanged -himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not understand you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A look of unutterable loathing passed into her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Enough that I might have reconquered the man,—the -love I once despised, had I wished to enter again into his life, -the vile thing I am—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo leered upon her with an evil smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How like Ginevra of old," he sneered. "Scruples of -conscience, that make the devils laugh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not heed him. One thought alone held uppermost -sway in her mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-morrow," she said, "I leave Rome for ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a stifled curse the Chamberlain started up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With him? Never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not say with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" he retorted venomously. "But for once the truth -had trapped the falsehood on your tongue."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ignored his brutal speech. He watched her narrowly. -As she made no reply he continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Deem you that I would let you go back to him, even if -he did not spurn you, the thing you are? You think to deceive -me by telling me that the hot blood of Marozia has been -chilled to that of a nun? A lie! A thousand lies! Your virtue! -This for the virtue of such as you," and he snapped his fingers -into her white face. "The virtue of a serpent,—of a wanton—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a dangerous glitter in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice sounded hardly above a whisper as she turned upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Monster, you—who have wrecked my life, destroyed -its holiest ties and glory in the deed! Monster, who made -my days a torture and my nights a curse! I could slay you with -my own hands!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed; a harsh grating laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a charming Mary of Magdala!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice was cold as steel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Benilo,—I warn you—stop!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his rage, at finding himself baffled at the last moment, -caused the Chamberlain to overstep the last limits of prudence -and reserve. With the stealthy step of the tiger he drew nearer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You tell me in that lying, fawning voice of yours that -to-morrow you will leave Rome,—to go to him? To give him -the love which is mine,—mine—by the redeemed gauge of -the sepulchre? And I tell you, you shall not! Mine you -are,—and mine you shall remain! Though," he concluded, -breathing hard, "you shall be meek enough, when, learning -from my own lips what manner of saint you are, he has cast -you forth in the street, among your kind! And I swear by the -host, I will go to him and tell him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She advanced a step towards him, her eyes glowing with a -feverish lustre. Her white hands were upon her bosom as if -to calm its tempestuous heaving.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He heeded it not, feasting his eyes on her great beauty with -the inflamed lust of the libertine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will save you the trouble," she said calmly, "I will -tell him myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what will you tell him? That he has espoused one -of the harlot brood of Marozia, one, who has sold his -honour—defiled his bed—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And slain the fiend who betrayed her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wild shriek, a tussle,—a choked outcry,—she struck—once, -twice, thrice:—for a moment his hands wildly beat the -air, then he reeled backward, lurched and fell, his head striking -the hard marble floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bloody weapon fell from Theodora's trembling hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Avenged!" she gasped, staring with terrible fascination at -the spot where he lay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Benilo had raised himself upon his arm, filing his wild -bloodshot eyes on the woman. He attempted to rise,—another -moment, and the death rattle was in his throat. He fell back -and expired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no pity in Theodora's eyes, only a great, nameless -fear as she looked down upon him where he lay. It had grown -dark in the chamber. The blue moon-mist poured in through -the narrow casement, and with it came the chimes from remote -cloisters, floating as it were on the silence of night, cleaving -the darkness, as it is cloven by a falling star. Theodora's -heart was beating, as if it must break. Lighting a candle she -softly opened the door and made her way through a labyrinth of -passages and corridors in which her steps re-echoed from the -high vaulted ceilings. Farther and farther she wandered away -from the inhabited part of the building, when her ear suddenly -caught a metallic sound, sharp, like the striking of a gong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment she remained rooted to the spot, staring -straight before her as one dazed. Then she retraced her steps -towards the Pavilion, whence came singing voices and sounds -of high revels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sometime after she had left her chamber, two Africans -entered it, picked up the lifeless body of the Chamberlain, and, -after carrying it to a remote part of the building, flung it into -the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The yellow Tiber hissed in white foam over the spot, where -Benilo sank. The mad current dragged his body down to the -slime of the river-bed, picked it up again in its swirl, tossed it -in mocking sport from one foam-crested wave to another, and -finally flung it, to rot, on some lonely bank, where the gulls -screamed above it and the gray foxes of the Maremmas gnawed -and snapped and snarled over the bleached bones in the moonlight.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="nemesis"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">NEMESIS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="W" src="images/img-cap-w.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>hile these events, so closely -touching his own life, -transpired in the Groves of Theodora, -while a triple traitor met his -long-deferred doom, and a -trembling woman cowered -fear-struck and tortured by terrible -forebodings in her chambers, -Eckhardt sat in the shaded -loggia of his palace, brooding -over the great mystery of his life and its impending solution; -meditating upon his course in the final act of the weird drama. -But one resolution stood out clearly defined in all the chaos -of his thoughts. He would not leave Rome ere he had broken -down behind him every bridge leading back into the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been a day such as the oldest inhabitants of Rome -remembered none at this late season. The very heavens -seemed to smoke with heat. The grass in the gardens was dry -and brittle, as if it had been scorched by passing flames. A -singularly profound stillness reigned everywhere, there being -not the slightest breeze to stir the faintest rustle among the -dry foliage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How long Eckhardt had thus been lost in vague speculations -on the impending crisis of his life he scarcely knew, -when the sound of footsteps approaching over the gravel path -caused him to shake off the spell which was heavy upon him, -and to peer through the interstices of the vines in quest of the -new-comer who wore the garb of a monk, the cowl drawn over -his face either for protection against the heat, or to evade -recognition. Yet no sooner had he set foot in the vineshaded -loggia, than Eckhardt arose from his seat, eager, breathless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At last!" he gasped, extending his hand, which the other -grasped in silence. "At last!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At last!" said Hezilo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The word seemed fraught with destinies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is the time at hand?" queried Eckhardt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A groan broke from the Margrave's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he beckoned his visitor to a seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have come to fulfil my promise," spoke Hezilo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hezilo nodded; yet he seemed at a loss how to commence. -After a pause he began his tale in a voice strangely void of -inflection, like that of an automaton gifted with speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dwelling briefly on the events of his own life from the time -of his arrival in Rome with the motherless girl Angiola, on -her chance meeting with Benilo and the latter's pretence of -interest in his child, Hezilo touched upon the Chamberlain's -clandestine visits at the convent, where he had placed her, -upon the girl's strange fascination for the courtier, the latter's -promises and advances, culminating in Angiola's abduction. -After having betrayed his credulous victim, the Chamberlain -had revealed himself the fiend he was by causing her to be -concealed in an old ruin, and, to secure immunity for himself, -he had her deprived of the sight of her eyes. In a voice resonant -with the echoes of despair, Hezilo described the long and -fruitless hunt for his lost child, of whose whereabouts the -disconsolate nuns at the convent disclaimed all knowledge, till -chance had guided him to the place of Angiola's concealment, -in the person of an old crone, whom he had surprised among -the ruins of the ill-famed temple of Isis, whither she carried -food to the blind girl at certain hours of the day. At the point of -his dagger he had forced a confession and by a sufficiently -large bribe purchased her silence regarding his discovery. -The rest was known to Eckhardt, who had witnessed Angiola's -rescue from her dismal prison, as he had been present in her -dying hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a long silence between them. Then Hezilo -continued his account. Step for step he had fastened himself -to the heels of the betrayer of his child, whose name the crone -had revealed to him. Again and again he might have destroyed -the libertine, had he not reserved him for a more summary -and terrible execution. He had discovered Benilo's illicit -amour with one Theodora, a woman of great beauty but of -mysterious origin, who had established her wanton court at -Rome. As a wandering minstrel Hezilo had found there a -ready welcome, and had in time gained her confidence and ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's senses began to reel as he listened to the -revelations now poured into his ears. Much, which the confession -of the dying wretch in the rock-caves under the Gemonian -stairs had left obscure, was now illumined, as a dark landscape -by lightnings from a distant cloud-bank. Ginevra's smouldering -discontent with Eckhardt's seeming lack of ambition, her -inordinate desire for power,—the Chamberlain's covert -advances and veiled promises, aided by his chance discovery -of her descent from Marozia; their conspiracy, culminating -in the woman's simulated illness and death; the substitution -of a strange body in the coffin, which had been sealed under -pretence of premature decay,—Ginevra's flight to a convent, -where she remained concealed till after Eckhardt's departure -from Rome:—from stage to stage Hezilo proceeded in his -strange unimpassioned tale, a tale which caused his listener's -brain to spin and his senses to reel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monk conducting the last rites, having chanced upon the -fraud, had been promised nothing less than the Triple Tiara -of St. Peter as reward for his silence and complicity, as soon as -Ginevra should have come into her own. Continuing, Hezilo -touched upon Ginevra's reappearance in Rome under the name -of Theodora; on the Chamberlain's betrayal of the woman. -He dwelt on the events leading up to the wager and the forfeit, -the woman's share in luring Eckhardt from the Basilica, and -Benilo's attempt to poison him at the fateful meeting in the -Grotto. He concluded by pointing out the Chamberlain's utter -desperation and the woman's mortal fear,—and Eckhardt -listened as one dazed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Hezilo briefly outlined his plans for the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's destruction had been decreed by the Chamberlain -and nothing short of a miracle could save him. The -utmost caution and secrecy were required. Benilo, whose -attention would be divided between Theodora and Eckhardt, -was to be dealt with by himself. The blood of his child cried -for vengeance. Thus Eckhardt would be free to settle last -accounts with the woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burying his head in his hands the strong man wept like a -disconsolate child, his whole frame shaken by convulsive sobs, -and it was some time, ere he regained sufficient composure to -face Hezilo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will require all your courage," said the harper, rising to -depart. "Steel your heart against hope or mercy! I will -await you at sunset at the Church of the Hermits."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And without waiting the Margrave's reply, Hezilo was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt felt like one waking from a terrible dream, the -oppression of which remains after its phantoms have vanished. -The suspense of waiting till dusk seemed almost unendurable. -Now that the hour seemed so nigh, the dread hour of final -reckoning, there was a tightening agony at Eckhardt's heart, -an agony that made him long to cry out, to weep, to fling -himself on his knees and pray, pray for deliverance, for oblivion, -for absolute annihilation. Walking up and down the vineshaded -loggia, he paused now and then to steal a look at the -flaming disk of the sun, that seemed to stand still in the heavens, -while at other times he stared absently into the gnarled stems, -in whose hollow shelter the birds slept and the butterflies -drowsed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even as the parted spirit of the dead might ruthfully hover -over the grave of its perished mortal clay, so Eckhardt reviewed -his own forlorn estate, torturing his brain with all manner of -vain solutions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This night, then,—the night which quenched the light of -this agonizing day, must for ever quench his doubts and fears. -He drew a long breath. A great weariness weighed down his -spirit. An irresistible desire for rest came over him. The late -rebellion, brief but fierce, the constant watch at the palace on -the Aventine, the alarming state of the young King, who was -dying of a broken heart, the futility of all counsel to prevail -upon him to leave this accursed city, the lack of a friend, to -whom he might confide his own misgivings without fear of -betrayal,—all these had broken down his physical strength, -which no amount of bodily exertion would have been able to -accomplish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a time he resumed his seat, burying his head in his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The air of the late summer day was heavy and fragrant -with the peculiar odour of decaying leaves, and the splashing -of the fountain, which sent its crystal stream down towards -Santa Maria del Monte, seemed like a lullaby to Eckhardt's -overwrought senses. Night after night he had not slept at all; -he had not dared to abandon the watch on Aventine for even a -moment. Now nature asserted her rights.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lower and lower drooped his aching lids and slowly he was -beginning to slip away into blissful unconsciousness. How -long he had remained in this state, he scarcely knew, when he -was startled, as by some unknown presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rousing himself with an effort and looking up, he was filled -with a strange awe at the phenomenon which met his gaze. -Right across the horizon that glistened with pale green hues -like newly frozen water, there reposed a cloud-bank, risen -from the Tyrrhene Sea, black as the blackest midnight, heavy -and motionless like an enormous shadow fringed with -tremulous lines of gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This cloud-bank seemed absolutely stirless, as if it had -been thrown, a ponderous weight, into the azure vault of -heaven. Ever and anon silvery veins of lightning shot luridly -through its surface, while poised, as it were immediately above -it, was the sun, looking like a great scarlet seal, a ball of -crimson fire, destitute of rays.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a time Eckhardt stood lost in the contemplation of this -fantastic sky-phenomenon. As he did so, the sun plunged -into the engulfing darkness. Lowering purple shadows crept -across the heavens, but the huge cloud, palpitating with -lightnings, moved not, stirred not, nor changed its shape by -so much as a hair's breadth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It appeared like a vast pall, spread out in readiness for the -state burial of the world, the solemn and terrible moment: -The End of Time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fascinated by an aspect, which in so weird a manner reflected -his own feelings, Eckhardt looked upon the threatening -cloud-bank as an evil omen. A strange sensation seized him, -as with a hesitating fear not unmingled with wonder, he watched -the lightnings come and go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shudder ran through his frame as he paced up and down -the white-pillared Loggia, garlanded with climbing vines, -roses and passion flowers, dying or decayed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would the night were passed," he muttered to himself, -and the man who had stormed the impregnable stronghold -of Crescentius quailed before the impending issue as a child -trembles in the dark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the hour appointed he traversed the solitary region of -the Trastevere. The vast silence, the vast night, were full of -solemn weirdness. The moon, at her full, soared higher and -higher in the balconies of the East, firing the lofty solitudes of -the heavens with her silver-beams. But immobile in the -purple cavity of the western horizon there lay that ominous -cloud, nerved as it were with living lightnings, which leaped -incessantly from its centre, like a thousand swords, drawn from -a thousand scabbards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The deep booming noise of a bell now smote heavily on the -silence. Oppressed by the weight of unutterable forebodings, -Eckhardt welcomed the sound with a vague sense of relief. -At the Church of the Hermits he was joined by the harper -and together they rapidly traversed the region leading to the -Groves. In the supervening stillness their ears caught the sound -of harptones, floating through the silent autumnal night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The higher rising moon outlined with huge angles of light -and shadow the marble palaces, which stood out in strong -relief against a transparent background and the Tiber, wherein -her reflections were lengthened into a glittering column, -was frosted with silvery ripples.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last they reached the entrance of the groves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be calm!" said Eckhardt's guide. "Let nothing that you -may see or hear draw you from the path of caution. Think -that, whatever you may suffer, there are others who may -suffer more! Silence! No questions now! Remember—here -are only foes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The harper spoke with a certain harsh impatience, as if he -were himself suffering under a great nervous strain, and -Eckhardt, observing this, made no effort to engage him in -conversation, aside from promising to be guided by his counsel. -He felt ill at ease, however, as one entering a labyrinth from -whose intricate maze he relies only on the firm guidance of -a friend to release him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They now entered the vast garden, fraught with so many -fatal memories. At the end of the avenue there appeared the -well-remembered pavilion, and, avoiding the main entrance, -the harper guided Eckhardt through a narrow corridor into -the great hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A faint mist seemed to cloud the circle of seats and the -high-pitched voices of the revellers seemed lost in infinite -distance. In no mood to note particulars, Eckhardt's gaze -penetrated the dizzy glare, in which ever new zones of light -seemed to uprear themselves, leaping from wall to wall like -sparkling cascades. As in the throes of a terrible nightmare -he stood riveted to the spot, for at that very moment his eyes -encountered a picture which froze the very life-blood in his -veins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the background, revealed by the parting draperies there -stood, leaning against one of the rose-marble columns, the -image of Ginevra. Her robe of crimson fell in two superb folds -from the peaks of her bosom to her feet. The marble pallor -of her face formed a striking contrast to the consuming fire -of her eyes, which seemed to rove anxiously, restlessly over -the diminished circle of her guests. The most execrable villain -of them all,—Benilo,—had at her hands met his long-deferred -doom. Those on whom she had chiefly relied for the -realization of her strange ambition now swung from the gibbets -on Monte Malo,—their executioner Eckhardt. Strange -irony of fate! From those remaining, who polluted the hall -with their noisome presence, she had nothing to hope, nothing -to fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this then was the end!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It required Hezilo's almost superhuman efforts to restrain -Eckhardt from committing a deed disastrous in its remotest -consequences to himself and their common purpose. For in -the contemplation of the woman who had wrecked his life, -a tide of such measureless despair swept through Eckhardt's -heart, that every thought, every desire was drowned in the -mad longing to visit instant retribution on the woman's guilty -head and also to close his own account with life. But the mood -did not endure. A strange delirium seized him; the woman's -siren-beauty entranced and intoxicated him like the subtle -perfume of some rare exotic; mingled love and hate surged -up in his heart; he dared not trust himself, for even though -he resented, he could not resist the fatal spell of former days. -The absence of Benilo, of whose doom he was ignorant, -inspired the harper with dire misgivings. After peering with -ill-concealed apprehension through the shadowy vistas of -remote galleries, he at last whispered to Eckhardt, to follow -him, and they were entering a dimly lighted corridor, leading -into the fateful Grotto, which Eckhardt had visited on that -well-remembered night, when a terrific event arrested their -steps, and caused them to remain rooted to the spot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A blinding, circular sweep of lightning blazed through the -windows of the pavilion, illumining it from end to end with a -brilliant blue glare, accompanied by a deafening crash and -terrific peal of thunder which shook the very earth beneath. -A flash of time,—an instant of black, horrid eclipse,—then, -with an appalling roar, as of the splitting of huge rocks, the -murky gloom was rent, devoured and swept away by the -sudden bursting forth of fire. From twenty different parts of -the great hall it seemed at once to spring aloft in spiral coils. -With a wild cry of terror those of the revellers who had not -outright been struck dead by the fiery bolt, rushed towards the -doors, clambering in frenzied fear over the dead, trampling -on the scorched disfigured faces of the dancing girls, on whose -graceful pantomime they had feasted their eyes so short a time -ago.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no safety in the pavilion, which a moment had -transformed into a seething furnace. Volumes of smoke -rolled up in thick, suffocating clouds, and the crimson glare -of the flames illumined the dark night-sky far over the Aventine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half mad with fear from the shrieks and groans of the -dying, which resounded everywhere about her, Theodora -stood rooted to the spot, still clinging to the great column. -Over her face swept a strange expression of loathing and -exultation. Her eyes wandered to the red-tongued flames, -that leaped in eddying rings round the great marble pillars, -creeping every second nearer to the place where she stood, -and in that one glance she seemed to recognize the entire -hopelessness of rescue and the certainty of death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment the thought seemed terrifying beyond -expression. None had thought of her,—all had sought -their own safety! She laughed a laugh of uttermost, bitter -scorn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last she seemed to regain her presence of mind. Turning, -she started to the back of the great pavilion, with the -manifest object of reaching some private way of egress, known -but to herself. But her intention was foiled. No sooner had -she gone back than she returned—this exit too was a roaring -furnace. In terrible reverberations the thunder bellowed -through the heavens, which seemed one vast ocean of flame; -the elements seemed to join hands in the effort at her -destruction:—So be it! It would extinguish a life of dishonour, -disgrace and despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A haughty acceptance of her fate manifested itself in her -stonily determined face. It would be atonement—though -the end was terrible!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly she heard a rush close by her side. Looking up, -she beheld the one she dreaded most on earth to meet, saw -Eckhardt rushing blindly towards her through smoke and -flames, crying frantically:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Save her! Save her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her wistful gaze, like that of a fascinated bird, was fixed on -the Margrave's towering stature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tarried but a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the terrible crisis, on one side a roaring furnace,—on -the other the man whom of all mortals she had wronged -past forgiveness, her courage failed her. Remembering a -secret door, leading to a tower, connected with a remote wing -of the pavilion, where she might yet find safety, she dashed -swift as thought through the panel, which receded at her touch, -and vanished in the dark corridor beyond. Without heeding -the dangers which might beset his path, Eckhardt flew after her -through the gloom, till he found himself before a spiral -stairway, at the terminus of the passage. A faint glimmer of light -from above penetrated the gloom, and following it, he was -startled by a faint outcry of terror, as on the last landing, to -which he madly leaped, he found himself once more face to -face with the woman, whom even at this moment he loved -more in the certainty of having lost her, than ever in the pride -and ecstasy of possession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seemingly hemmed in by an obstacle, the nature, which he -knew not, she stood before him paralyzed with horror. As -his hand went out towards her, the gesture seemed to break the -spell, and uttering a despairing shriek, she sprang towards a -door behind the landing and rushed out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's breath stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A moment,—he heard an outcry of inexpressible horror,—a -struggle, then a hollow dash. Hardly conscious of his own -actions he uttered a shrill whistle, when the door of the tower -was broken down, and the stairs were suddenly crowded with -the soldiers of the imperial guard, whom the conflagration had -brought to the scene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What woman was that?" exclaimed their leader, pointing -to the place whence Theodora had made the fatal leap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whoever she is—she must be dashed to pieces," replied -his companion, rushing up the stairs to the trap-door and -throwing his lighted torch down the murky depths. But the -light was soon lost in the profound gloom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A rope! A rope! She must not, she shall not die thus!" -cried Eckhardt in mad, heart-rending despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is one, but it is not long enough!" exclaimed the -captain of the guard, hardly able to conceal his mortification -at finding himself face to face with his general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hark! She groans! Help! Help me!" exclaimed Eckhardt, -and tearing his cloak into strips, he fastened them -together. The work was swiftly completed. These strips -fastened to the rope and securely knotted, Eckhardt tied around -his waist, and though the leader of the men-at-arms sought to -dissuade him from his desperate purpose, he started down, -clinging and swinging over a dreadful depth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The captain of the guard swung the torch down after him as -far as possible, but soon the light grew misty, the voices above -indistinct, and it seemed to Eckhardt as if he were encompassed -by a black mist. Still he continued his descent. His next -sensation was that of an intolerable stench and a burning -heat in the hand, caused no doubt by friction with the rope. -A difficulty in breathing, increased darkness and singing -noises in his ears were successive sensations; he began to feel -dizzy and a dread assailed him, that he was about to swoon and -abandon his hold. Suddenly he felt the last notch of the rope -and, not knowing what depth remained, argued that any further -effort was in vain. Extending first one arm, then another, he -groped wildly about, striving to shout for light; but his voice -died in the gloom. Gasping and almost stifled as he was, he -made one last desperate effort, when suddenly his groping hand -grasped something, which appeared to him either like hair or -weeds. At this critical moment the captain of the guard -sent down a lamp, which he had procured. It fell hissing -in the mire, but it afforded him sufficient light to see that the -object of his search lay buried in the slime, and that she was -gasping convulsively. Eckhardt's strength was now almost -spent, but this sight seemed to restore it all. Noting a -projecting ledge of stone lower down, he leaped upon it and was thus -obliged to abandon his hold on the rope. Eckhardt seized the -woman by the gown, dragged her from the mire and making -a desperate leap, regained the ledge, then signalled to those -above to draw him up by jerking the rope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Motionless she lay on his arm and it was only by twisting -it in a peculiar manner round the rope, that he was enabled -to support the terrible burden. For a time they hung -suspended over the abyss, yet they were gradually nearing the -top. If he could only endure the agony of his twisted limbs -a little longer, both were safe. He could not shout, for he felt -that suffocation must ensue; his eyes and ears seemed bursting -as from some stunning weight; and a deadly faintness seemed -to benumb his limbs. Suddenly, as by some miracle, the -burden seemed lightened, though he felt it still reclining in his -arms. A wonderful support seemed to raise up his own -sinking frame, then all grew bright and numerous faces -strained down on him. In a few moments he was on a level with -the floor and many arms stretched out, to help him land. -Heedless of the roaring sea of fire in the pavilion, they carried -the wretched woman to the landing, where they laid her on -the floor, attempting, for a time in vain, to restore her. She -seemed suffering from some severe internal injury and her lips -bubbled with gore. At length she opened her eyes and with a -shriek of agony made signs that she was suffocating and -desired to be raised. Eckhardt, who stood beside her, raised her, -and as he did so, she regarded him with a wild and piteous -gaze and murmured his name in a tone which went to the heart -of all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he bent over her, she made a convulsive effort to rise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have slain the fiend, who came between us—forgive -me if you can—" she muttered, then gasping: "Heaven -have mercy on my soul!" she fell back into Eckhardt's arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a sign from the Margrave the men-at-arms withdrew, -leaving him alone with his gruesome burden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After they had descended, he bent over the prostrate form, -he had loved so well, touching with gentle fingers the soft, dark -hair, which lay against his breast. Once,—he recalled the -mad delirium of holding her thus close to his heart. Now -there was something dreary, weird, and terrible in what -would under other conditions have been unspeakable rapture. -A chill as of death ran through him as he supported the dying -woman in his arms. Her silken robe, her perfumed hair, the -cold contact of the gems about her,—all these repelled him -strangely; his soul was groaning under the anguish, his brain -began to reel with a nameless, dizzy horror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last she stirred. Her body quivered in his hold, consciousness -returned for a brief moment, and, with a heavy sigh, she -whispered as from the depths of a dream:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eckhardt!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A fierce pang convulsed the heart of the unhappy man. -He started so abruptly, that he almost let her drop from his -supporting arms. But his voice was choked; he could not -speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A groan,—a convulsive shudder,—a last sigh,—and -Theodora's spirit had flown from the lacerated flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In silent anguish Eckhardt knelt beside the body of the -woman, heedless of the hurricane which raged without, heedless -of the flames, which, creeping closer and closer, began to lick -the tower with their crimson tongues. At last, aroused by the -warning cries of the men-at-arms below, Eckhardt staggered -to his feet with the dead body, and scarcely had he emerged -from the tower, when a terrible roar, a deafening crash struck -his ear. The roof and walls of the great pavilion had -fallen in and millions of sparks hissed up into the flaming -ether.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment Eckhardt paused, stupefied by the sheer horror -of the scene. The pavilion was now but a hissing, shrieking -pyramid of flames; the hot and blinding glare almost too much -for human eyes to endure. Yet so fascinated was he with the -sublime terror of the spectacle that he could scarcely turn -away from it. A host of spectral faces seemed to rise out of -the flames and beckon to him, to return,—when a tremendous -peal of thunder, rolling in eddying vibrations through the -heavens, recalled him to the realization of the moment, and -gave the needful spur to his flagging energies. Raising his -aching eyes, Eckhardt saw straight before him a gloomy -archway, appearing like the solemn portal of some funeral -vault, dark and ominous, yet promising relief for the moment. -Stumbling over the dead bodies of Roxané and Roffredo and -several other corpses strewn among fallen blocks of marble, -and every now and then looking back in irresistible fascination -on the fiery furnace in his rear, he carried his lifeless burden -to the nearest shelter. He dared not think of the beauty of -that dead face, of its subtle slumbrous charm, and stung to a -new sense of desperation he plunged recklessly into the dark -aperture, which seemed to engulf him like the gateway of some -magic cavern. He found himself in a circular, roofless court, -paved with marble, long discoloured by climate and age. -Here he tenderly laid his burden down, and kneeling by -Ginevra's side, bid his face in his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A second crash, that seemed to rend the very heavens, -caused Eckhardt at last to wake from his apathy of despair. -A terrible spectacle met his eyes. The east wall of the tower, -in which Ginevra had sought refuge and found death, had -fallen out; the victorious fire roared loudly round its summit, -enveloping the whole structure in clouds of smoke and jets of -flame; whose lurid lights crimsoned the murky air like a wide -Aurora Borealis. But on the platform of the tower there stood -a solitary human being, cut off from retreat, enveloped by the -roaring element, by a sea of flame!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a groan of anguish, Eckhardt fixed his straining eyes -on the dark form of Hezilo the harper, whom no human -intervention could save from his terrible doom. Whether his -eagerness, to avenge his dead child or her betrayer, had carried -him too far, whether in his fruitless search for the Chamberlain -he had grown oblivious of the perils besetting his path, -whether too late he had thought of retreat,—clearly defined -against the lurid, flame-swept horizon his tall dark form stood -out on the crest of the tower;—another moment of breathless -horrid suspense and the tower collapsed with a deafening -crash, carrying its lonely occupant to his perhaps self-elected -doom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All that night Eckhardt knelt by the dead body of his wife. -When the bleak, gray dawn of the rising day broke over the -crest of the Sabine hills he rose, and went away. Soon after a -company of monks appeared and carried Theodora's remains -to the mortuary chapel of San Pancrazio, where they were to -be laid to their last and eternal rest.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="vale-roma"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">VALE ROMA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="I" src="images/img-cap-i.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>t was the eve of All Souls Day -in the year nine hundred ninety -nine,—the day so fitly recalling -the fleeting glories of summer, -of youth, of life, a day of -memories and tributes offered -up to the departed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Afar to westward the sun, -red as a buckler fallen from -Vulcan, still cast his burning -reflections. On the horizon with changing sunset tints glowed -the departing orb, brightening the crimson and russet foliage -on terrace and garden walls. At last the burning disk -disappeared amid a mass of opalescent clouds, which had risen -in the west; the fading sunset hues swooned to the gray of -twilight and the breath of scanty flowers, the odour of dead -leaves touched the air with perfume faint as the remembered -pathos of autumn. No breeze stirred the dead leaves still -clinging to their branches, no sound broke the silence, save -from a cloister the hum of many droning voices. Now and -then the air was touched with the fragrance of hayfields, -reclaimed here and there upon the Campagna, and mists were -slowly descending upon the snow-capped peak of Soracté. -In the dim purple haze of the distance the circle of walls, -a last vestige of the defence of the ancient world, stood -a sun-browned line of watch-towers against the horizon. -From their crenelated ramparts at long distances, a sentinel -looked wearily upon the undulating stretch of vacant, fading -green.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the portico of the imperial palace on the Aventine sat -Eckhardt, staring straight before him. Since the terrible -night, which had culminated in the crisis of his life, the then -mature man seemed to have aged decades. The lines in his -face had grown deeper, the furrows on his brow lowered over -the painfully contracted eyebrows. No one had ventured to -speak to him, no one to break in upon his solitude. The world -around him seemed to have vanished. He heard nothing, he -saw nothing. His heart within him seemed to be a thing dead -to all the world,—to have died with Ginevra. Only now and -then he gazed with longing, wistful glances towards the -far-off northern horizon, where the Alps raised their glittering -crests,—a boundary line, not to be transgressed with impunity. -Would he ever again see the green, waving forests of his -Saxon-land, would his foot ever again tread the mysterious dusk of -the glades over which pines and oaks wove their waving -shadows, those glades once sacred to Odhin and the Gods of the -Northland? Those glades undefiled by the poison-stench of -Rome? How he longed for that purer sphere, where he might -forget—forget? Can we forget the fleeting ray of sunlight, -that has brightened our existence, and departing has left sorrow -and anguish and gloom?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt's heart was heavy to breaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As evening wore on, it was evident, that there was some new, -great commotion in the city. From every quarter pillars of -dun smoke rose up in huge columns which, spreading fan-like, -hung sullenly in the yellow of the sunset. Houses were burning. -Swords were out. In the distance straggling parties could be -seen, hurrying hither and thither.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a devil's carnival brewing, or I am forsworn," -muttered the Margrave as he arose and entered the palace. -There he ordered every gate to be closed and barricaded. He -knew Roman treachery, and he knew the weakness of the -garrison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The roar of the populace grew louder and nearer, minute by -minute. Eckhardt had hardly reached the imperial -antechamber, ere the crest of the Aventine fairly swarmed with a -rebellious mob, whose numbers were steadily increasing. -Already they outnumbered the imperial guard a hundred to one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It soon became evident, that their clamour could not be -appeased by peaceful persuasion. Disregarding Eckhardt's -protests, Otto had made one last effort to try the spell of his -person upon the Romans;—but hootings and revilings had -been the only reply vouchsafed by the rabble of Rome to the -son of Theophano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is Benilo? We will speak to Benilo,—the friend -of the people!" they shouted, and when he failed to appear, -they cried: "They have slain him, as they slew Crescentius," -and a shower of stones hailed against the walls of the palace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto escaped unscathed. Once more in his chamber he -broke down. His powers were waning; his resistance spent. -The death of Crescentius,—the loss of Stephania filled him -with unutterable despair. He thought of the mysterious death -of Benilo, whose gashed body some fisherman had discovered -in the Tiber, and whose real character Eckhardt's account of -his crimes and misdeeds had at last revealed to him. He knew -now that he had been the dupe of a traitor, who had -systematically undermined the lofty structure of his dreams, whose -fall was to bury under its ruins the last of the glorious Saxon -dynasty,—a traitor, who had deliberately set about to break -the heart whose unspoken secret he had read. And this was -the end!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hark! The Romans are battering at the gates!" Haco, -the captain of the guard, addressed Eckhardt, entering -breathlessly and unannounced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where they shall batter long enough," Eckhardt growled -fiercely. "The gates are triple brass and bolted! Hold the -yelping curs in check, till we are ready!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haco departed and Eckhardt now prepared Otto for the -necessity of flight. All Rome was in arms against them! This -time it was not the Senator. The people themselves were bent -upon Otto's capture or death. Resistance was madness. -Without a word Otto yielded. Sick, body and soul, he cared no -longer. A slow fever seemed to consume him, since Stephania -had gone from him. The malady was past cure,—for he -wished to die. The mute grief of the stricken youth went to -Eckhardt's heart. Of his own despair he dared not even think -at this hour, when the destinies of a dynasty weighed upon his -shoulders, weighed him down:—he must get Otto safely out -of Rome—at any, at every cost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hark, below!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An uproar of voices and heavy blows against the portals -rang up to their ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt seized a torch and, sword in hand, opened the -secret panel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The back way,—the garden,—'tis for our lives!" he -whispered to Otto, who had hastily thrown a dark mantle over -his person which might serve to evade detention in case they -met some chance straggler. The panel closed behind them and -Eckhardt locked every door in the long corridor, through -which they passed, to delay pursuit. They descended a flight -of stairs, and found themselves in a hall, which through a -ruined portico, terminated in a garden. Here Eckhardt -extinguished the torch and they paused and listened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before them lay a deserted garden with marble statues -and weed-grown terraces. The gravel walks were strewn with -tiny twigs and leaves of faded summer, and stained in places -with a dark green mould. There was the soft splash of -water trickling from huge mossy vases, and here and there -through a break in the foliage, peered an arrowy shaft of -moonlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here they were to await the arrival of Haco and his men. -Suddenly the glint of a halberd beyond the wall caught -Eckhardt's ever watchful eye; he counted three in succession on -the other side of the wall. The Romans seemed bent to deprive -them of their only way of flight. Eckhardt glanced about. -The wall on the western side seemed unguarded. Here -the Aventine fell in a steep declivity towards the Tiber. -Eckhardt perceived there was but one course and took it -instantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment Haco and his men-at-arms emerged with -drawn swords from the laurel thickets, in whose concealment -they had awaited their leader and King. Motioning to Otto -and his companions to imitate his movements, Eckhardt -crouched down and stole cautiously along the edge of the wall. -Meanwhile the tumult without was increased by the hoarse -braying of a horn. Men could be seen rushing about with -drawn swords or any other weapons close at hand, staves, -clubs and sticks, shouting and yelling in direst confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Amidst this uproar the small band reached the edge of the -Tiber and their repeated signals caused a boat rowed by a -gigantic fellow to approach. The oarsman, however, insisted -on his pay before he would take them across.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After they had safely reached the opposite shore they bound -and gagged the owner of the craft, to insure his secrecy. Then -the party sped up a narrow lane and paused before a ruinous -house which, to judge from its black and crumbling beams, -seemed to have been recently destroyed by fire. Here they -waited until one of the party secured their steeds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During all this time Otto had not spoken a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now that he was about to mount the steed, which was to -bear him from Rome for ever, he turned with one last -heart-breaking look toward the city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A desire, fierce as that of hunger, wearing as that of sleep, -filled him,—the desire of death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he rode away with the others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The night grew darker. The sky was full of clouds and the -wind shrieked through the spectral branches of the pines. -The travellers pursued their way along the well beaten tracks -of the Flaminian Way, keeping a constant look-out for -surprises. They re-crossed the Tiber at a ford above the city, -and then only they brought their steeds to a more leisurely gait.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gradually the ground began to ascend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A turn in the road brought them to a high plateau. Its -rising knolls were crowned with broad and ancient plane-trees, -in the midst of which towered a gibbet, from which -swung the bodies of two malefactors, recently executed. Otto -shuddered at the omen. Death on every turn,—death at -every step. The moon at fitful intervals cast from between -the rifts in the clouds a feeble radiance upon desolate fields. -A company of hungry crows rose at the approach of the -horsemen from the stubble, filled the air with their cawing and -flapped their way swiftly out of sight. At that moment a -horseman galloped past with great rapidity, seeming eagerly to -scan the cavalcade. He was closely muffled and had vanished -in the night, ere he could be hailed or recognized.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rome swiftly vanished behind them. After passing the -last scattered houses on the outskirts, they finally reached the -open Campagna. The darkness increased and the night wore -every appearance of proving a dismal one. The wind was high -and swept the clouds wildly over the face of the moon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In silence they proceeded on their way, until they espied a -low range of hills, white on the summits with lightning. A -dense wood skirted the road on the left for several miles. But -as far as the eye could penetrate the murky twilight, no human -being, no human habitation appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the ruins of an old monastery they spent the night, and -for the first in three, Otto slept. But his sleep did not refresh -him, nor restore his strength. Throughout his fitful slumbers, -he saw the pale face of Stephania, the face, which with so mad -a longing he had dreamed into his heart, the heart she had -broken, but which loved her still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gloomily the morning light of the succeeding day broke -upon the Roman Campagna. The sun was hidden behind a -lowering sky and fitful gusts of wind swept the great, barren -expanse. Undaunted, though their hearts were filled with -dire misgivings, the small band continued their march, -northward, ever northward,—towards the goal of their journey, -the Castel of Paterno, perched on the distant slopes of -Soracté.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="paterno"><span class="bold x-large">Book the Third</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold xx-large">Our Lady -<br />of Death</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"As I came through the desert, thus it was,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>As I came through the desert: From the right</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A shape came slowly with a ruddy light,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A woman with a red lamp in her hand,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Bareheaded and barefooted on that strand.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A large black sign was on her breast that bowed,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A broad black band ran down her snow-white shroud.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That lamp she held, was her own burning heart,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Whose blood-drops trickled step by step apart."</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>—</span><em class="italics">James Thomson</em><span>.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">PATERNO</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he sun was nigh the horizon, -and the whole west glowed with -exquisite colour, reflected in the -watery moors of the Campagna, -as a troop of horsemen -approached the high tableland -skirting the Cimminian -foothills. Not a human being was -visible for many miles around; -only a few wild fowl fluttered -over the pools and reedy islets of the marshes and the lake of -Bolsena gleamed crimson in the haze of the sunset.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boundless, undulant plain spread before them, its farms, -villas and aqueducts no less eloquent of death than the tombs -they had passed on the silent Via Appia. The still air and the -deep hush seemed to speak to man's soul as with the voice of -eternity. On the left of the horsemen yawned a deep ravine, -from which arose towering cliffs, crowned with monasteries -and convents. On their right lay the mountain chains of the -Abruzzi, resembling dark and troubled sea-waves, and to -southward the view was bounded by the billowy lines of the -Sabine hills, rolling infinitely away. Beyond they saw the -villages scattered through the gray Campagna and in the -farthest distance the mountain shadows began to darken over -the roofs of ancient Tusculum and that second Alba which -rises in desolate neglect above the vanished palaces of Pompey -and Domitian.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the day on which is observed the poetic Festa dell' -Ottobrata, a festival of pagan significance, with the archaic -dance and garlanded processions of harvest and vintage, when -the townsfolk go out into the country, to look upon the mellow -tints of autumn, to walk in the vineyards, to taste the purple -grapes, and to breathe the fragrance, filling the air with odours -finer than the flavour of wine. The fields were mellowed to -yellow stubble and the creepers touched by the first chill of -autumn hung in crimson garlands along the russet hedges. -Here and there, among the stately poplars loomed up farmhouses -with thatched roofs, which from afar resembled pointed -haystacks on the horizon. At intervals among the crimson and -russet leafage rose a spectral cypress, like a sombre shadow. -In the haze of the distance crooked olive-trees raised their -branches in tints of silver-gray. The air was still, but for an -occasional hum of insect life. The faint, white outlines of the -Apennines shone brilliant and glistening in the evening glow. -The travellers passed Camaldoli with its convents reared upon -high, almost inaccessible cliffs; the cloisters of Monte Cassino -had vanished behind them in silvery haze. They approached -Paterno by a road skirted with villas and gardens, with ancient -statues and shady alleys. The proximity of the mountains -made the air chill; here and there a ray of sunlight filtered -through the branches of the plane-trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>High Paterno towered above, among its rocks and steeps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ever since their flight from Rome, Otto had been in the -throes of a benumbing lethargy, which had deprived him of -interest in everything, even life itself. Vain had been his -companions' effort to rouse him from his brooding state, -vainly had they pointed out to him the beauties of the -landscape. Was it the ghost of Johannes Crescentius, the Senator -of Rome, that was haunting the son of Theophano?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After having crossed a swinging bridge, which swayed to -and fro under the weight of their iron mail, they arrived at a -narrow causeway, above which, like some contemplative -spirit above the conflicting problems of life, rose the cloisters, -environing the ancient Castel of Paterno. Eckhardt knocked -at the barred gate with the hilt of his sword, whereupon a -monk appeared at the window of a tower above the portcullis, -and after reconnoitring, set some machinery in motion, by -which the portcullis was raised. They then found themselves -in a long, narrow causeway cut in the rock. The monk who -had admitted them disappeared; another ushered them into -the great hall of the cloister. The air was full of the lingering -haze of License, and traces of devotional paintings on the -weather-beaten walls appeared like fragments of prayers in a -world-worn mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hall had been made from a natural cavern and was of -an exceedingly gloomy aspect, being of great extent, with deep -windows only on one side, hewn in the solid granite. It was -at intervals crossed by arches, marking the termination of -several galleries leading to remoter parts of the monastery. -In the centre was a long stone table, hewn from the rock; a -pulpit, supported on a pillar was similarly sculptured in the -wall. Five or six pine-wood torches, stuck at far intervals -in the granite, shed a dismal illumination through the gloom, -enhanced rather than diminished by the glow of red embers -on a vast hearth at the farthest extremity of the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt was about to prefer his request to the monk, who -had conducted them hither, when he was interrupted by the -entrance of the abbot and a long train of monks from their -devotions. The monks advanced in solemn silence, their -heads sunk humbly on their breasts; their superior so worn -with vigils and fasts, that his gaunt and powerful frame -resembled a huge skeleton. He was the only one of the group -who uttered a word of welcome to his guests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After having ordered Haco to attend to the wants of his -lord, Eckhardt sought a conference with the abbot on matters -which lay close to his heart. For his sovereign was ill—and -his illness seemed to defy human skill. The abbot listened to -Eckhardt's recital of the past events, but his diagnosis was far -from quieting the latter's fears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You learn to speak and think very dismally among these -great, sprawling pine forests," Eckhardt said moodily, at the -conclusion of the conference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We learn to die!" replied the monk with melancholy austerity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Consideration for his sovereign's safety, however, prompted -Eckhardt, who had been informed that straggling bands of -their pursuers had followed them to the base of the hill, to -continue that same night under guidance of a monk, the -ascent to the almost impregnable heighths of Castel Paterno. -Here Otto and his small band were welcomed by Count -Tammus, the commander, who placed himself and his men-at-arms -at the disposal of the German King.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="memories"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MEMORIES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="O" src="images/img-cap-o.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>tto found himself in a state -chamber, whose gloomy -vastness was lighted, or rather -darkened by one single taper. -Through the high oval windows -in the deep recess of the wall -peered an errant ray of -moonlight, which illumined the quaint -monastic paintings on the walls, -and crossing the yellow candle-light, -imbued them with a strange ghostly glare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When his host had ministered to his comfort and served -him with the frugal fare of the cloister, Otto hinted his desire -for sleep, and his trusty Saxons entered on their watch -before their sovereign's chamber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last, left alone, Otto listened with a heavy heart to the -monotonous tread of the sentries. It seemed to him as if he -could now take a survey of the events of his life, and pass -sentence upon it with the impartiality of the future chronicler. -Recollection roused up recollection; and as in a panorama, -the scenes of his short, but eventful career passed in review -before his inner eye. He thought of what he was, contrasting -it painfully with all he might have been. The image of the one -being, for whom his soul yearned in its desolation, with the -blinding hunger of man for woman and woman's love, rose up -before his eyes, and for the first time he thought of -death,—death,—in its full and ghastly actuality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What was it, this death? Was it a sleep? Merely the -absence, not the privation of those powers and senses, called -life? What sort of passage must the thinking particle pass -through, whatever it may be,—ere it stood naked of its clay? -The breaking of the eyes in darkness,—what then succeeded? -Would the thinking atom survive,—would it become the -nothing that it was?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The aspect of the chamber was not one to dispel the gloomy -visions that haunted him. It was scantily furnished in the -crude style of the tenth century, with massive tables and -chairs. A curious tapestry of eastern origin, representing some -legend of the martyrs, divided it from an adjoining cabinet -serving at once as an oratory and sleeping apartment. A low -fire, burning in the chimney to dispel the miasmas of the -marshes, shed a crimson glow over the chamber and its lonely -inmate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a long time those who watched before his door heard -him walk restlessly up and down. At last weariness came over -him and he threw himself exhausted into a chair. Then the -haunting memory of Stephania conjured up before his -half-dreaming senses an alluring, shimmering Fata Morgana—a -castle on one of those far-away Apulian head-lands, with -their purpling hills in the background and the scent of strange -flowers in the air. On many a summer morning they should -walk hand in hand through the Laburnum groves, and find -their love anew. But the amber sheen of the landscape faded -into the violet of night. The vision faded into nothingness. -A peal of thunder reverberated through the heavens,—Otto -started with a moan, rose, and staggered to his couch.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 67%" id="figure-130"> -<span id="the-haunting-memories-of-stephania"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""The haunting memories of Stephania."" src="images/img-438.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"The haunting memories of Stephania."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>He closed his eyes; but sleep would not come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where was she now? Where was Stephania? Weeks -had passed, since they had last met. It seemed an eternity -indeed! He should have remained in Rome, till he was assured -of her fate! She had left him with words of hatred, of scorn, -bitter and cruel. And yet! How gladly he would have saved -the man, his mortal enemy, forsooth, had it lain in his power. -Gladly?—No! The man who had thrice forsworn, thrice -broken his faith, deserved his doom. Now he was dead. But -Rome was lost. What mattered it? There was but one -devouring thought in Otto's mind. Where was Stephania? -The mad longing for her became more intense with every -moment. Now that the worst had come to pass, now that the -stunning blow had fallen, he must rouse himself, he must -rally. He must combat this fever, which was slowly consuming -him; he must find her, see her once more on earth, if but -to tell her how he loved her, her and no other woman. Would -the pale phantom of Crescentius still stand between them,—still -part them as of yore? Not if their loves were equal. His -hands were stainless of that blood. On the morrow he would -despatch Haco to Rome. Surely some one would have seen -her; surely some one knew where the wife of the Senator of -Rome was hiding her sorrow,—her grief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dim light of the ceremonial lamp, which burned with -a dull, veiled flame before an image of the crucified Christ, -flickered, as if fanned by a passing breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was deep silence in the king's bed-chamber, and the -drawn tapestry shut out every sound from without.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Noiselessly a secret panel in the wall opened behind Otto's -couch. Noiselessly it closed in the gray stone. Then an -exquisite white hand and arm were thrust through the draperies -and the lovely face of Stephania beamed on the sleeping youth. -She was pale as death, but the transparency of her skin and -the absolute perfection of her form and features made her the -image of an Olympian Goddess. Her dark hair, bound by a -fillet of gold, enhanced the marble pallor of the exquisite face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never had the wonderful eyes of Stephania seemed so full -of fire and of life. Stooping over the sleeper, she softly -encircled his head with her snowy arms and pressed a long kiss -on the dry, fevered lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a moan Otto opened his eyes. For a moment he -stared as if he faced an apparition from dream-land.—His -breath stopped, then he uttered a choked outcry of delirious -joy, while his arms tightly encircled the head which bent over -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At last! At last! At last! Oh, how I have longed, how -I have pined for you! Stephania—my darling—my love—tell -me that you do not hate me—but is it you indeed,—is it -you? How did you come here—the guards,—Eckhardt,—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused with a terrible fear in his heart, ever and ever -caressing the dark head, the beloved face, whose eyes held his -own with their magnetic spell. She suffered his kisses and -caresses while stroking his damp brow with soothing hand. -Then with a grave look she enjoined silence and caution, -crept to the door of the adjoining room and locked it from -within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They guard you so well, not a ghost could enter," she -said with the sweet smile of by-gone days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He arose and drew the curtains closer. Then he sat down -by her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How came you here, Stephania?" he whispered with -renewed fear and dread. "If you are discovered,—God have -mercy on you,—and me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have followed you hither from Rome,—I passed you -on the night of your flight. Count Tammus, the commander of -Paterno, at one time the friend of the Senator of Rome, has -offered me the hospitality of the castelio. No one knows of my -presence here, save an old monk, who believes me some -itinerant pilgrim, in search of the End of Time," she whispered -with her far-away look. "The End of Time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They say it is close at hand," Otto replied, holding her -hands tightly in his. "Oh, Stephania, how beautiful you are! -That which has broken my spirit, seems not to have touched -your life!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My life is dead," she replied. "What remains,—remains -through you. Therefore time has lacked power. But -that which has been and is no more, stands immovable before -my soul."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gazed at her with large fear-struck eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then—your heart is no longer mine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The grasp of the hands in his own tightened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would I be here, silly dreamer? I love you—my heart -knows no change. It loved but once—and you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the happiness, slumbering in the deep eyes of the son of -Theophano, burst forth as in a glorious aureole of light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you have never—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She raised her hand forbiddingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could not give to him who is gone that which I gave to -you! When we first met I was your foe. I hated you with all -the hate which a Roman has for the despoiler of his lands. -When I gave you my love,—which, alas, was not mine to -give, I did so, a powerless instrument of Fate. Side by side -have we trod life's narrow path,—neither of us could turn -to right or left without standing accounted to the other. It -was not ours to say love this one or that other. We were -brought together by that same mysterious force, to which it is -vain to cry halt. We knew,—I knew,—that it must, -sooner or later, carry us to doom and death; but resistlessly -the whirlwind had taken us up in its glistening cloud: Thus -are we lost;—you and I!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He listened to her with a great fear in his soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How cold your hands are, my love," he whispered. "Cold -as if the flow of blood had ceased. Can you feel how it rushes -through my veins,—so hot—so boiling hot?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have the fever! Therefore my hands appear cold to -you. But,—you spoke truly,—in my hand is death,—and -death is cold! Life I have none,—you have taken it from me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It sounded like the last outcry of a broken heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why recall that which could not be averted? Were it -mine to change it, oh, that I could!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you really wish it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish but your happiness. Can you doubt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not doubt. I love you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania—my darling,—my all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he kissed her eyes, her lips, her hair, and she suffered -his caresses as one wrapt in a blissful dream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I learned you were stricken with the fever,—the last -defence left to us by nature against our foes. I have come, to -watch over you, to care for you,—to nurse you back to -health,—to life—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you braved the dangers that beset your path on every -turn?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How should I fear,—with such love in my heart for you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you—will remain?" he whispered, his very life in -his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For a time," she answered, in a halting tone, which passed -not unremarked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then?" he queried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her head sank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I will tell you, my own love! We will return to -Rome together, you and I; Stephania, the empress of the -West,—would not that reconcile your Romans,—appease -their hate?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania gazed for a moment thoughtfully at Otto, then -she shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear," she replied after a pause, "we shall nevermore -return to Rome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she spoke, her soft fingers stroked caressingly the youth's -head, which rested on her bosom, while her right hand remained -tightly clasped in his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not understand you," he said with a pained look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not let us speak of it now," she replied. "You are -ill;—the fever burns in your blood. It likes you well, this -Roman fever,—and yet you persist in returning hither ever -and ever,—as to your destiny—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are my destiny, Stephania! I cannot live without -you! Had you not come, I should have died! God, you -cannot know how I love you, how I worship you, how I -worship the very air you breathe. Stephania! On that terrible, -never-to-be-forgotten day, when your words planted death in -my heart, he, who of all my Saxons hates you with a hatred -strong and enduring as death, warned me of you! 'Must you -love a Roman,' he said to me—'and of all Romans, Stephania, -the wife of the Senator? Once in the toils of the Sorceress, -you are lost! Nothing can save you.'—Can I say to my -heart, you shall love this one,—or you shall not love this one? -Shall I say to my soul, you shall harbour the image of this -one, but that other shall be to you even as a barred Eden, -guarded by the angel with the flaming sword? I have seen the -maidens of my native land; I have seen the women of Rome;—but -my heart was never touched until we met. My soul leaped -forth to meet your own, when first we stood face to face in -the chapel of the Confessor. Stephania,—my love for you -is so great that I fear you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why should you fear me? Were I here, did I not love you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My life has been a wondrous one," he spoke after a -pause. "From dazzling sun-kissed heights I have been -hurled into the blackest abyss of despair. And what is my -crime? Wherein have I sinned? I have loved a woman,—a -woman wondrous fair,—Stephania!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have loved the wife of the Senator of Rome!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes drooped. For a time neither spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thrice have I crossed the Alps, to see, to rule this fabled -land,—and now I want but rest,—peace,—Stephania—" -he said with a heart-breaking smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are tired, my love," replied the beautiful Roman. -"From this hour, I shall be your leech,—I shall be with you, -to share your solitude,—to watch over you till the dread -fever is broken. And then—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then?" he repeated with anxious look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But will you not weary of me?" she said, avoiding the -question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drew her close to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My sweetheart—-my own—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you will not fear, you will trust and obey me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were you to give me poison with your own hands, I would -drain the goblet without fear or doubt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania had arisen. She was pale as death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If love were all!" she muttered. "If love were all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she drew the curtains closer and extinguished the light.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-consummation"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE CONSUMMATION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="S" src="images/img-cap-s.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>ome weeks had elapsed since -Otto's arrival at Paterno. But -the fever which consumed the -son of Theophano had not -yielded to the skill of the -monkish mediciners, though a change -for the better had been noticed -after the first night of the King's -arrival. But it lasted only a -short time and all the danger -symptoms returned anew. The monks shook their heads and -the hooded disciples of Aesculapius conversed in hushed -whispers, regarding the strange ailment, which would not -cede before their antidotes. But they continued their -unavailing efforts to save the life of the last of the glorious -Saxon dynasty, the grandson of the vanquisher of the Magyars, -the son of the vanquisher of the Saracens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a bleak December evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At sunset a mist rose from the fields and the clouds grew -heavier with every hour. The rain-drops hung on the branches -of the plane-trees, until an occasional stir sent them pattering -down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto lay within, asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the door-way sat Eckhardt, muffled in a cloak. Near-by, -half recumbent under a blanket, the cowl drawn over his face, -sat the leech, his eyes fixed upon the log-fire on the hearth, as -it sent showers of sparks into the murky darkness. In their -search for fire-wood the monks had brought from the edge of -a neighbouring mill-pond the debris of a skiff, whose planks -had for years been alternately soaked in water and dried in the -sun. When tossed upon the blaze of forest branches, these -fragments emitted an odour sweet as oriental spices and their -flames brightened with prismatic tints. But to the leech's -brooding gaze their lurid embers seemed touched with the -spell of some unholy incantation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without the sick-chamber two sentries, chilled and drowsy, -leaned against a column supporting the low vaulting, their -halberds clasped between their folded arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a pause of some duration, Eckhardt arose and entering -Otto's chamber bent over the couch on which he lay. After -having convinced himself by the youth's regular breathing -that he was resting and did not require his attendance, the -Margrave strode from the sick-chamber. The fever was -intermittent; now it came, now it left the youth's body. But the -pale wan face and the sunken eyes gave rise to the gravest fears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Night came swiftly and with it the intense hush deepened. -Only the pattering of rain-drops broke the stillness. In the -sick-chamber nothing was to be heard save the regular breathing -of the sleeper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus the hours wore on. After the monk and Eckhardt had -departed for the night, the secret panel opened noiselessly and -Stephania entered the apartment with a strange expression of -triumph and despair in her look. She glanced round, but her -eyes passed unheedingly over their surroundings; she saw only -that there was no one in the chamber, that no one had seen -her enter. There was something utterly desperate in that -glance. Noiselessly she stepped to the narrow oval window -gazing out into the mist-veiled landscape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it seemed without consciousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A single thought seemed to have frozen her brain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stepped to Otto's couch and for a moment bent over him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she retreated, as if seized with a secret terror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a few moments she stood behind him, with closed eyes, -her face almost stony with dread and the fear of something -unknown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Near the bed there stood a pitcher which the monks -replenished every evening with water cold from a mountain -spring. Approaching it, she took a powder from her bosom -and shook it into it, every grain. Then she turned the pitcher -round and round, to mix the fine powder, which stood on the -surface. Suddenly she started, and set it down, while scalding -tears slowly coursed down her pale cheeks. Desperate thoughts -crowded thickly on her brain, as her stony gaze was riveted on -the water, whose crystal clearness had not been clouded by -the subtle poison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Between us stands the shade of Crescentius," she muttered. -"Still I can not cease to love him,—each bound to each,—together, -yet perpetually divided,—our love a flower that the -hand of death will gather."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again there was a long, intense hush. She crept to Otto's -bed and knelt down by his side, hiding her wet face on her -bare arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When he is dead," she continued speaking softly, so as -not to wake him, "the unpardonable sin will be condoned.—Otto, -Otto,—how I love you,—if I loved you less,—you -might live—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At these words he stirred in the cushions. A deep sigh -came from his lips, as if the mountain of a heavy dream had -been lifted from his breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She drew back terrified, but noting that he did not open his -eyes, she spoke with a moan of weariness:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How often thus in my dreams have I seen his dead face—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again she bent over the sleeper. Now she could not discern -a breath. A strange dread seized her, and her face became as -wan and haggard as that of the fever-stricken youth. Obeying -a sudden impulse she removed the pitcher of water, placing it -in a remote niche. Then she crept back to Otto's couch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he dead?" she whispered, as if seized by a strange -delirium. "Is he dead? I know not,—yet none knows,—but -I! None,—but I!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave a start, as if she had discovered a listener, glanced -wildly about the room, at each familiar object in the chamber, -and met Otto's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She raised herself with a gasp of terror, as he grasped her -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is dead?" he asked. "And who is it, that alone -knows it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stroked the soft fair hair from his clammy brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are delirious, my love," she whispered. "No one is -dead;—you have been dreaming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought I heard you say so," he replied wearily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The horror and bewilderment at his awakening at this -moment of all, when she required all her strength for her -purpose, left her dazed for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The clock struck the second hour after midnight. The -sound cut the air sharply, like a stern summons. It seemed to -demand: Who dares to watch at this hour of death?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto had again closed his eyes. Delirium had regained its -sway. He was whispering, while his fingers scratched on the -cover of his couch, as if he were preparing his own grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again he relapsed into a fitful slumber, filled with dreams -and visions of the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stands at the banks of the Rhine. The night is still. The -moon is in her zenith, her yellow radiance reflected in the calm -majestic tide of the river. He hears the sighing, droning -swish of the waters; the sinuous dream-like murmuring of -the waves resolving into tinkling chimes, far-away and -plaintive, that steal up to him in the moon mists, ravishing his -soul. In cadenced, languorous rhythm the song of the -Rhine-daughters weeps and wooes through the night; their -shimmering bodies gleam from the waters in a silvery sphere of -light; they seem to beckon to him—to call to him—to -lure him back—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Home! Home!" he cries from the depths of his dream; -then his voice becomes inarticulate and sinks into silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>New phantoms crowded each other, a shifting phantasmagoria -of the very beings who at that dreadful hour were -most vividly fixed in his mind. And among them stood out -the image of the woman, who was kneeling at his side, the -woman he loved above all women on earth. Again his lips -moved. He called her by name, with passionate words of love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me not die thus, Stephania! Leave me not in this -dreary abyss! Oh! Drive away those infernal spectres that -stare in my face," and his words became wild and confused, -as all these phantoms seemed to rush on him together, forming -lurid groups, flaming and tremulous, like prolonged flashes of -lightning, but growing fainter and fainter as they died away, -when every faculty of the young sufferer seemed utterly -suspended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dark clouds passed over the moon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wind blew in fierce gusts, howling like an imprisoned -beast between the chinks of the wall. Then the night relapsed -once more into silence, and in intermittent pauses large drops -of rain could be heard, splashing from the height of the roof -upon the ringing flagstones. To Stephania's listening ear -it seemed like a dreadful pacing to and fro of spirits meditating -on the past. She dragged herself to a seat in a recess of the -wall, whence she could watch the sufferer and minister to his -wants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another fit of delirium seized Otto. Restlessly he tossed on -his pillows. Again a dream murmured his own impending -fate into his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again he is in Aix-la-Chapelle. Again he beholds -Charlemagne seated erect in his chair as in that memorable night -when he visited the dead emperor in the crypts. He touches -the imperial vestments; the crown glitters in the smoky flare -of the torches. But through the heavy Arabian perfumes of -the emperor's fantastic shroud penetrates the odour of the -corpse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The night wore on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Recovering consciousness, Otto knew by the dying candle, -by the strokes of the clocks from adjacent cloisters, that hours -had passed into eternity, and that it was long past midnight. -It was very still. The tread of the sentries was no longer -heard. Through the window were seen pale blue flashes of -lightning in a remote cloudbank, as on that memorable night -in the temple of Neptune at Rome. The dull rumbling of -distant thunder seemed to come from the bowels of the earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His head ached, his mouth was parched, thirst tormented -him. He dimly remembered the pitcher of water. Who had -removed it? Why had it been taken away? He tried to rise, -to drag himself to the wall, but his strength was not equal to -the task. He fell back in the cushions where for a time he lay -motionless. Then a moan broke from his lips, which startled -the figure seated by the bed. Opening his eyes Otto gazed into -the pale face of Stephania. She started up with a low -cry,—as from a trance. Waking and watching had benumbed her -senses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now from her own suffering she lifted to Otto her face, -wherein was reflected the great love she bore him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her with all the love of his soul in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am dying," he spoke calmly, "I know it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An outcry of mortal anguish broke from her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, no!" she moaned, entwining him with her arms. -"Otto, my love—you will live,—live—live— Can you -fancy us parted," she sobbed, "one from the other for ever? -Or can you go from me and leave me to the great loneliness of -the world? To me all on earth, but you, seems a fleeting -shadow; but in this hour, I think only of the greater pang of -my own fate, and pray that in another world I may be judged -more mercifully,—even by you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For some moments they remained locked in close embrace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kiss me!" he whispered hungrily. "Kiss me, Stephania!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She drew back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My kisses are cold, Otto, cold as those of a dead love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kiss me, Stephania," he moaned, "kiss me, even if your -kisses were death itself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She breathed hard, as he held to her with all his might.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A dead hand is drawing me downward, hold me up, -Otto!" she gasped. "Hold me up! Do not let me go! Do -not let me go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she kissed him, until he was almost delirious, drawing -him close to her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you are mine—mine—mine!" she whispered, -kissing him again and again, while his fingers were buried in -the soft, silken wealth of her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hour is brief,—life is short and uncertain—oh, -let the hour be ours! Let us drain the glittering goblet to the -dregs! Then we may cast it from us and say we have been -happy! Death has no terror for us! I am thirsty, -Stephania,—give me the pitcher."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She trembled in every limb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not let me go! Hold me, Otto,—do not let me go!" -she almost shrieked, entwining him so tightly with her arms -that he could scarcely breathe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel the fever returning—the water—Stephania—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not let me go!" she begged with mortal dread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am burning up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He struggled in her arms to rise, gasping:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Water—Water!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he pointed to the niche, where he had espied the pitcher.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She almost dropped him, as raising himself he pushed her -from him. Her head swam giddily and she felt a feebleness in -all her limbs; shudders of icy cold ran through her, followed -by waves of heat, that sickened and suffocated her. But -she paid little heed to these sensations. Stephania felt death -in her heart, she strove to sustain herself, but failing in the -effort, fell moaning across his couch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto had fallen back on his pillows with eyes closed. He -was spared the sight of the terrible agony of the woman he -loved. At last she clutched the pitcher and staggering feebly -forward, step by step, she pushed back her hair from her -brows and softly called his name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He opened his eyes, but did not speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Trembling in every limb she bent over him and placing one -hand under his head raised him to a sitting posture, glancing -fear-struck round the chamber. She thought she had heard -the tread of approaching steps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Greedily Otto grasped the vessel, pressing his hot hands -over the woman's which held it to his lips. Greedily he drank -the poisoned beverage, while a heart-breaking moan came from -Stephania's lips. He heard it not. He sank back into the -cushions, while she knelt down by his side, weeping as if her -heart would break.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Senator of Rome was avenged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Avenged? On whom? Whose tortures were the greater, -if a spirit still possessed the power to suffer? Alas! It was -not the death of her lord and husband she had avenged! She -had sacrificed the love which filled her heart to the Infernals!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While these reflections were whirling through her maddened -brain, the fatal poison was coursing serpent-like through -Otto's veins, and creeping to his head. For a time he lay still; -then he began to move uneasily in his pillows, his breathing -became laboured, he beat the covers with his hands. Then he -moaned, as in the last agony, and Stephania, to whom every -sound of suffering from his lips was as a thousand deaths, -knelt by his side, unable to avert her gaze from the youth, -dying by the hand he loved and trusted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fixedly she stared at the inert form on the bed. Then only -the full realization of her deed seemed to burst upon her brain. -She clutched despairingly at the cover, beneath which lay his -restless form, his face averted, the face she so loved, yet feared, -to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Otto!" she moaned, "Otto!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice broke. She suddenly withdrew her hands and -looked at them in horror, those white, beautiful hands, that had -mixed the fatal draught. Then with a bewildered, vacant -smile she beamed on her victim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto had lost consciousness. Nothing stirred in the chamber. -Profound silence reigned unbroken, save for the slow chime of -a distant bell, tolling the hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was he dead? Had the light of the eyes, she loved so well, -gone out for ever?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hand hovered fearfully above him, as if to drive away -the grim spectre of death. At last, nerving herself with a -supreme effort, she touched with trembling hand the cover -that hid him from view. Lifting it tearfully, she turned it -back softly,—softly, murmuring his name all the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she stooped down close, and closer yet. Her red lips -touched the purple ones; she stroked the damp and clammy -brow, and thrust her fingers into his soft hair. A moan came -from his lips. Then, fastening her white robe more securely -about her, and stepping heedfully on tip-toe, she passed out -of the chamber. With uncertain step she glided along the -corridor, a ghostly figure, with a white, spectral face and -fevered eyes. At the foot of the spiral stairway she paused, -gazing eagerly around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stepping to a low casement she peered into the night. -Flickering lights and shadows played without; the late moon -had disappeared, leaving but a silvery trail upon the sky, to -faintly mark her recent passage among the stars. Everything -was still. Only the plaintive cry of an owl echoed from afar. -Her sandalled feet sounded on the stone-paved floor, like the -soft pattering of falling leaves in autumn. Unsteadily she -moved along the gray discoloured wall towards the secret -panel, known but to herself. Soon her perplexed wandering -gaze found what it sought, and Stephania disappeared, as if -the stones had receded to receive her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-angel-of-the-agony"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE ANGEL OF THE AGONY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he morning of the following -day broke hazy and threatening. -But as the hours wore on, the -sky, which had been overcast, -brightened slowly and in that -instant's change the earth -became covered with a radiance -of sunshine and the heavens -seemed filled with ineffable peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was late in the day, when Otto woke from his lethargy. -Hour after hour he had raved without recovering consciousness. -His breathing grew weaker. He was thought to be in his -last agony. Little by little the vigour of his youth had reasserted -itself, little by little he had opened his eyes. His sight had -become dimmed from the effects of the poison, and his reason -seemed to sway and to totter; the fevered flow of blood, the wild -beating of his temples, caused everything around him to scintillate -in a crimson haze and flit before his vision with fitful -dazzling gleams. But his eyes seemed fixed steadily in a remote -recess of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Those surrounding his couch had believed him nearing -dissolution, and when he opened his eyes, Otto looked upon -the faces of those who had guided his steps ever since he set -his foot upon Italian soil, Eckhardt, Count Tammus, and -Sylvester, the silver-haired pontiff who had come from Rome. -Their faces told him the worst. He attempted to raise himself -in his cushions, but his strength failed him, and he fell heavily -back. Anew his ideas became confused and his gaze resumed -its former fixedness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lips moved and Eckhardt, who bent over him, to listen, -turned white with rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Again her accursed name," he growled, turning to the -monk by his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania—where is Stephania?" moaned the dying youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A voice almost a shriek rent the silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am here,—Otto,—I am here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shadow passed before the eyes of the amazed visitors in -the sick-chamber, a shadow which seemed to come out of the -wall itself, and the wife of the Senator of Rome staggered -towards Otto's couch, who made a feeble effort to stretch out -his hands toward her. He could not raise them. They were -like lead. She rushed to his side, ere Eckhardt could prevent, -and with a sob fell down before the couch and grasped them -tightly in her own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The petrified amazement, which had pictured itself in the -features of those assembled, at the unexpected apparition, -gave vent to a flurry of whispers and conjectures during which -Eckhardt, with face drawn and white and haggard, had rushed -through the outer chamber to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Guards!" he thundered, "Guards!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two spearmen appeared in the doorway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Seize this woman and throw her over the ramparts!" -the Margrave said with a voice whose calm formed a fearful -contrast to the blazing fury in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men-at-arms approached with hesitation, but Sylvester -barred their progress with uplifted arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vengeance is the Lord's!" he turned to Eckhardt, whose -eyes, aflame with wrath, seemed the only living thing in his -stony face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A terrible laugh broke from the Margrave's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His mad pleadings saved her once! Now, all the angels -in heaven and demons in hell combined shall not save her -from her doom!" he replied to the Pontiff. "Seize her, my -men! She has killed your king! Over the ramparts with her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They dared deny obedience no longer. Approaching the -couch they laid hands on the kneeling woman. But the sight -of violence for a moment so incensed the prostrate form in the -cushions, that he started up, as he had done in the vigour of -his health.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With eyes glowing with fever and wrath, Otto leaped from -the bed, planting himself before the prostrate form of the -woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back!" he cried. "The first who lays hand on her dies -by my hand, a traitor! Down on your knees before the -Empress of the Romans!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Terror and amazement accomplished Stephanie's salvation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even Eckhardt was stunned. He knelt with the rest with -averted face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave the room!" Otto turned to the men-at-arms, and -with heads bowed down they strode from the sick chamber and -resumed their watch outside. What did it all mean? The -presence of the Senator's wife at their sovereign's bedside, -Eckhardt's contradictory demeanour, Otto's strange words; -mystified they shook their heads, glad the terrible task had -been spared them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto's exertion was followed by a complete collapse, and -he fell back in a swoon. After a time he seemed to rally. -Without assistance he sat up straight and rigid, and turned towards -the woman, whose wan face and sunken eyes made her fatal -beauty all the more terrible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me—shall I live till night?" he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as she hid her face from him with a sob, he continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not deceive me! I am not afraid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His voice broke. Every one in the room knelt down weeping. -Sylvester tried to answer, but in vain. Hiding his face in his -hands, the pontiff sobbed aloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Softly—softly—" Otto whispered to Stephania, then -turning towards the sky he whispered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How beautiful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The morning clouds were growing rosy; the twilight had -become warm and mellow. The first beam of the sun appeared -over the rim of the horizon. The dying youth held his face -with closed eyes towards the light. A faint shiver ran through -his body and with a last effort he stretched out his arms, as if -he would have rushed to meet the rising orb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he was seized by a convulsion; the veins swelled -on neck and temples.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Water—water!" he gasped choking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania knew the symptoms. Pale as death she staggered -to her feet, filled a cup with clear spring water and held -it to his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Otto, grasping her hand with the cup, drank thirstily from -the ice-cold draught.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then his head fell back. A last murmur came from his -half-open lips:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stephania,—Stephania—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then his life went out. With a moan of heart-rending -anguish she closed his eyes. The face of the youth, -kissed by the early rays of the December sun, took on -a look as of one sleeping. His soul, freed from earthly love, -had entered on its eternal repose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johannes Crescentius was avenged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt had watched the last moments of his king. In -the awful presence of Death, he had restrained a new -outburst of passion against the woman, who had so utterly made -that dead youth her own. But he had sworn a terrible oath -to himself, that she should pay the penalty, if that life went -out,—it would be cancelling the last debt he owed on the -accursed Roman soil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And no sooner had the light faded from Otto's eyes, no -sooner had they been closed under the soft touch of Stephania's -hand, than Eckhardt rushed anew to the door and the terrible -voice of the Margrave thundered through the stillness of the -death-chamber:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Guards! Throw this woman over the ramparts! She has -killed your King!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the guards rushed into the chamber. The terrible -denunciation had stirred their zeal. Stephania, kneeling by -Otto's couch, never stirred, but as the men-at-arms, over-awed -by the spectacle that met their gaze, paused for a moment, -the sound of falling crystal, breaking on the floor, startled the -silver-haired pontiff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had seen enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stepping between Stephania and her would-be slayers he -waved them back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he picked up a fragment of the empty flask.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This phial," he spoke to Eckhardt, "is of the same shape -and size as one discovered in a witch's grave, when they -were digging the foundations for the monastery of St. Jerome!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he strode towards the woman and laid his hands on her -head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will soon answer before a higher tribunal," said the -monk of Aurillac.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," she whispered, holding the hands of the corpse -in her own, while her head rested on her arms,—"I cannot -see,—stoop down,—and let me whisper—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am here, daughter, close—quite close to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He inclined his ear to her mouth and listened. But though -her lips moved, no words would come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a moment or two of intense stillness, she whispered, -raising her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is bright again! They are calling me! We will go -together to that far, distant land of peace. I am with you, -Otto—hold me up, I cannot breathe—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gently Sylvester lifted her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Otto,—my own love—forgive—" she gasped. A convulsive -shudder passed through her body and she fell lifeless -over the dead body of her victim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stephania's proud spirit had flown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sylvester muttered the prayer for the departed, and staggered -to his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eckhardt pointed to her lifeless clay. In his livid face burnt -relentless, unforgiving wrath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Throw that woman over the ramparts!" he turned to his -men. "She shall not have Christian burial!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Anew Sylvester intervened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back!" he commanded the guards. "Judge not,—that -ye may not be judged. What has passed between those two—lies -beyond the pale of human ken. He alone, who has called, -has the right to judge them! She died absolved.—May God -have mercy on her soul!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As weeping those present turned to leave the death-chamber, -Eckhardt bent over the still, dead face of Otto.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will hold the death-watch," he turned to Sylvester. -"Have the bier prepared! To-morrow at dawn we start. -We return to our Saxon-land,—we go back across the Alps. -In the crypts of Aix-la-Chapelle the grandson of the great -Otto shall rest; he shall sleep by the side of the great emperor, -whom he visited ere he came hither; Charlemagne's phantom -has claimed him at last. Rome shall not have a lock of his hair!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you say—so shall it be!" replied Sylvester, his gaze -turning from Otto to the lifeless clay of Stephania.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Softly he raised her dead body and laid it side by side with -that of Theophano's son, joining their hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Though they shall sleep apart in distant lands, their souls -are one in the great beyond, that holds no mysteries for the -departed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the chapel of the cloister at the foot of the hill, stealing -through the solemn stillness of the December morning, came -the chant of the monks:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Quando corpus morietur,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Fac ut animae donetur</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Paradisi gloria."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="return"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">RETURN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><img class="dropcap inline" style="height: 6.00em" alt="T" src="images/img-cap-t.jpg" /><span class="dropspan"></span><span>he Eve of the Millennium -stood upon the threshold of Time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The veiled sun of midwinter -was rising and his early rays -filled the blue balconies of the -East with curtains of gold. -From the slopes of Paterno a -strange procession was to be -seen winding its way down into -the plains below. It was the remnant of the German host, -carrying the bier with the body of the third Otto towards its -distant, final resting-place. Eckhardt and Haco jointly headed -the mournful cortege, which after reaching the plain, entered -the northern road. Behind them lay Civita Castellana, the -walls of the ancient citadel towering high above the town, -which lay in the centre of a net-work of deep ravines. To their -right the Sabine hills extended in long, airy lines and the -wooded heights of Pellachio and San Gennaro rose to the -south-east. Before them Viterbo with her hundred towers lay dark -and frowning inside her bristling walls; and to northward, -surmounted by its mighty cathedral dome, on a conical hill, -above the great lake of Bolsena, the gray town of -Montefiascone rose out of the wintry haze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Continually harassed by the Romans the small band -hewed their way through their pursuers who abandoned -their onslaughts only when the Germans reached the Nera -and beheld the Campanile of St. Juvenale rising above Narni.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly the imperial cortege passed through the ancient town -and was soon lost in the purple mists, which enshrouded -mountain and valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rome lay behind them, the source of their tears and sorrows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Onward, ever onward they rode towards the glittering crests -of the Alps, the solemn twilight of the Hercynian forest, towards -the distant banks of the Rhine and the crypts of Aix-la-Chapelle.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE END.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">SMILES, A ROSE OF THE CUMBERLANDS</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">By Eliot Harlow Robinson</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Author of "Man Proposes"</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, $1.50</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Smiles is a girl that is sure to make friends. Her -real name is Rose, but the rough folk of the -Cumberlands preferred their own way of addressing her, for -her smile was so bright and winning that no other name -suited her so well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Smiles was not a native of the Cumberlands, and her -parentage is one of the interesting mysteries of the -story. Young Dr. MacDonald saw more in her than -the mere untamed, untaught child of the mountains -and when, due to the death of her foster parents a -guardian became necessary, he was selected. Smiles -developed into a charming, serious-minded young woman, -and the doctor's warm friend, Dr. Bently, falls in -love with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We do not want to detract from the pleasure of -reading this story by telling you how this situation was -met, either by Smiles or Dr. MacDonald—but there -is a surprise or two for the reader.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Press opinions on "Man Proposes":</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Readers will find not only an unusually interesting -story, but one of the most complicated romances -ever dreamed of. Among other things the story gives -a splendid and realistic picture of high social life in -Newport, where many of the incidents of the plot are -staged in the major part of the book."—</span><em class="italics">The Bookman</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is well written; the characters are real people and -the whole book has 'go.'"—</span><em class="italics">Louisville Post</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">TWEEDIE, THE STORY OF A TRUE HEART</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">By Isla May Mullins</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Author of "The Blossom Shop Stories," etc.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, $1.65</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In this story Mrs. Mullins has given us another -delightful story of the South.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Carlton family—lovable old Professor -Carlton, and his rather wilful daughter Ruth—twenty-three -years old and with decided ideas as to her future—decide -to move to the country in order to have more -time to devote to writing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Many changes come to them while in the country, -the greatest of which is Tweedie—a simple, unpretentious -little body who is an optimist through and -through—but does not know it. In a subtle, amusing -way Tweedie makes her influence felt. At first -some people would consider her a pest, but would -finally agree with the Carlton family that she was -"Unselfishness Incarnate." It is the type of story -that will entertain and amuse both old and young.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The press has commented on Mrs. Mullins' previous -books as follows:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Frankly and wholly romance is this book, and -lovable—as is a fairy tale properly told. And the -book's author has a style that's all her own, that -strikes one as praiseworthily original -throughout."—</span><em class="italics">Chicago Inter-Ocean</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A rare and gracious picture of the unfolding of life -for the young girl, told with a delicate sympathy and -understanding that must touch alike the hearts of -young and old."—</span><em class="italics">Louisville (Ky.) Times</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">ONLY HENRIETTA</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">By Lela Horn Richards</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Author of "Blue Bonnet—Debutante," etc.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, $1.50</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Henrietta was the victim of circumstances. It was -not her fault that her father, cut off from his expected -inheritance because of his marriage, was unexpectedly -thrown upon his own resources, nor that he proved to -be a weakling who left his wife and daughter to shift -for themselves, nor that her mother took refuge in -Colorado far away from their New England friends and -acquaintances. Youth, however, will overcome much, -and when Richard Bently appears in the mountains, -life takes on a new interest for Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When her mother dies Henrietta goes to live with -Mrs. Lovell, who knew her father years ago in the -little Vermont town. Mrs. Lovell determines to do -what she can to secure for Henrietta the place in -society and the inheritance that is rightfully hers. -The means employed and the success attained—but -that's the story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only Henrietta" is written in the happy vein that -has secured for Mrs. Richards a host of friends and -admirers, and is sure to duplicate the earlier -successes achieved for the young people by the Blue -Bonnet Series.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The chief charm of the book is that it contains so -much of human nature and it is a book that will gladden -the hearts of many girl readers because of its charming -air of comradeship and reality."—</span><em class="italics">The Churchman, -Detroit, Mich.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">THE AMBASSADOR'S TRUNK</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="bold italics medium">By George Barton</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Author of "The World's Greatest Military Spies and -<br />Secret Service Agents," "The Mystery of the -<br />Red Flame," "The Strange Adventures -<br />of Bromley Barnes," etc.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, $1.65</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bromley Barnes, retired chief of the Secret Service, -an important State document, a green wallet, the -Ambassador's trunk—these are the ingredients, which, -properly mixed, and served in attractive format and -binding, produce a draught that will keep you awake -long past your regular bedtime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Barton is master of the mystery story, and in this -absorbing narrative the author has surpassed his best -previous successes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would be difficult to find a collection of more -interesting tales of mystery so well told. The author -is crisp, incisive and inspiring. The book is the best -of its kind in recent years and adds to the author's -already high reputation."—</span><em class="italics">New York Tribune</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The story is full of life and movement, and presents -a variety of interesting characters. It is well -proportioned and subtly strong in its literary aspects and -quality. This volume adds great weight to the claim -that Mr. Barton is among America's greatest novelists -of the romantic school; and in many ways he is -regarded as one of the most versatile and interesting -writers."—</span><em class="italics">Boston Post</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">THE ROMANCES -<br />OF</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">NATHAN GALLIZIER</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Each, one volume, 12mo, cloth, illustrated, $2.00</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Castel del Monte -<br />The Sorceress of Rome -<br />The Court of Lucifer -<br />The Hill of Venus -<br />The Crimson Gondola -<br />Under the Witches' Moon</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE PAGE COMPANY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE SORCERESS OF ROME</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43938"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43938</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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