Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf Part 6

After bestowing a few legacies, one of which was in favor of Dr. Duras, and another in that of Signor Vivaldi himself, the testamentary doc.u.ment ordained that the estates of the late Andrea, Count of Riverola, should be held in trust by the notary-general and the physician, for the benefit of Francisco, who was merely to enjoy the revenues produced by the same until the age of thirty, at which period the guardians.h.i.+p was to cease, and Francisco was then to enter into full and uncontrolled possession of those immense estates.

But to this clause there was an important condition attached; for the testamentary doc.u.ment ordained that should the Lady Nisida--either by medical skill, or the interposition of Heaven--recover the faculties of hearing and speaking at any time during the interval which was to elapse ere Francisco would attain the age of thirty, then the whole of the estates, with the exception of a very small one in the northern part of Tuscany, were to be immediately made over to her; but without the power of alienation on her part.

It must be observed that, in the middle ages many t.i.tles of n.o.bility depended only on the feudal possession of a particular property. This was the case with the Riverola estates; and the t.i.tle of Count of Riverola was conferred simply by the fact of the owners.h.i.+p of the landed property. Thus, supposing that Nisida became possessed of the estates, she would have enjoyed the t.i.tle of countess, while her brother Francisco would have lost that of count.

We may also remind our readers that Francisco was now nineteen; and eleven years must consequently elapse ere he could become the lord and master of the vast territorial possessions of Riverola.

Great was the astonishment experienced by all who heard the provisions of this strange will--with the exception of the notary-general and Father Marco, the former of whom had drawn it up, and the latter of whom was privy to its contents (though under a vow of secrecy) in his capacity of father-confessor to the late count.

Francisco was himself surprised, and, in one sense, hurt; because the nature of the testamentary doc.u.ment seemed to imply that the property would have been inevitably left to his sister, with but a very small provision for himself, had she not been so sorely afflicted as she was; and this fact forced upon him the painful conviction that even when contemplating his departure to another world, his father had not softened toward his son!

But, on the other hand, Francisco was pleased that such consideration had been shown toward a sister whom he so devotedly loved; and he hastened, as soon as he could conquer his first emotions, to request the notary-general to permit Nisida to peruse the will, adding, in a mournful tone, "For all that your excellency has read has been, alas!

unavailing in respect to her."

Signor Vivaldi handed the doc.u.ment to the young count, who gently touched his sister's shoulder and placed the parchment before her.

Nisida started as if convulsively, and raised from her handkerchief a countenance so pale, so deadly pale, that Francisco shrank back in alarm.

But instantly reflecting that the process of reading aloud a paper had been as it were a kind of mockery in respect to his afflicted sister, he pressed her hand tenderly, and made a sign for her to peruse the doc.u.ment.

She mechanically addressed herself to the task; but ere her eyes--now of burning, unearthly brilliancy--fell upon the parchment, they darted one rapid, electric glance of ineffable anguish toward Dr. Duras, adown whose cheeks large tears were trickling.

In a few minutes Nisida appeared to be absorbed in the perusal of the will; and the most solemn silence prevailed throughout the apartment!

At length she started violently, tossed the paper indignantly to the notary-general, and hastily wrote on a slip of paper these words:

"Should medical skill or the mercy of Heaven restore my speech and faculty of hearing, I will abandon all claim to the estates and t.i.tle of Riverola to my dear brother Francisco."

She then handed the slip of paper to the notary-general, who read the contents aloud.

Francisco darted upon his sister a look of ineffable grat.i.tude and love, but shook his head, as much as to imply that he could not accept the boon even if circ.u.mstances enabled her to confer it!

She returned the look with another, expressive of impatience at his refusal: and her eyes seemed to say, as eyes never yet spoke, "Oh, that I had the power to give verbal utterance to my feelings!"

Meantime the notary-general had written a few words beneath those penned by Nisida, to whom he had handed back the slip; and she hastened to read them, thus: "Your ladys.h.i.+p has no power to alienate the estates, should they come into your possession."

Nisida burst into an agony of tears and rushed from the room.

Her brother immediately followed to console her; and the company retired, each individual to his own abode.

But of all that company who had been present at the reading of the will, none experienced such painful emotions as Dr. Duras.

CHAPTER VI.

THE PICTURES--AGNES AND THE UNKNOWN--MYSTERY.

When Agnes awoke from the state of stupor in which she had been conveyed from the church, she found herself lying upon an ottoman, in a large and elegantly furnished apartment.

The room was lighted by two silver lamps suspended to the ceiling, and which, being fed with aromatic oil of the purest quality, imparted a delicious perfume to the atmosphere.

The walls were hung with paintings representing scenes of strange variety and interest, and connected with lands far--far away. Thus, one depicted a council of red men a.s.sembled around a blazing fire, on the border of one of the great forests of North America; another showed the interior of an Esquimaux hut amidst the eternal ice of the Pole;--a third delineated, with fearfully graphic truth, the writhing of a human victim in the folds of the terrific anaconda in the island of Ceylon; a fourth exhibited a pleasing contrast to the one previously cited, by having for its subject a family meeting of Chinese on the terraced roof of a high functionary's palace at Perkin; a fifth represented the splendid court of King Henry the Eighth in London; a sixth showed the interior of the harem of the Ottoman Sultan.

But there were two portraits amongst this beautiful and varied collection of pictures, all of which, we should observe, appeared to have been very recently executed--two portraits which we must pause to describe. One represented a tall man of about forty years of age, with magnificent light hair--fine blue eyes, but terrible in expression--a countenance indisputably handsome, though every lineament denoted horror and alarm--and a symmetrical form, bowed by the weight of sorrow.

Beneath this portrait was the following inscription:--"F., _Count of_ A., _terminated his career on the 1st of August, 1517_."

The other portrait alluded to was that of an old--old man, who had apparently numbered ninety winters. He was represented as cowering over a few embers in a miserable hovel, while the most profound sorrow was depicted on his countenance. Beneath this picture was the ensuing inscription:--"F. W., _January 7th, 1516. His last day thus._"

There was another feature in that apartment to which we must likewise direct our reader's attention, ere we pursue the thread of our narrative. This was an object hanging against the wall, next to the second portrait just now described. It also had the appearance of being a picture--or at all events a frame of the same dimensions as the others; but whether that frame contained a painting, or whether it were empty, it was impossible to say, so long as it remained concealed by the large black cloth which covered it, and which was carefully fastened by small silver nails at each corner.

This strange object gave a lugubrious and sinister appearance to a room in other respects cheerful, gay, and elegant.

But to resume our tale.

When Agnes awoke from her stupor, she found herself reclining on a soft ottoman of purple velvet, fringed with gold; and the handsome stranger, who had borne her from the church, was bathing her brow with water which he took from a crystal vase on a marble table.

As she slowly and languidly opened her large hazel eyes, her thoughts collected themselves in the gradient manner; and when her glance encountered that of her unknown friend, who was bending over her with an expression of deep interest on his features, there flashed upon her mind a recollection of all that had so recently taken place.

"Where am I?" she demanded, starting up, and casting her eyes wildly around her.

"In the abode of one who will not injure you," answered the stranger, in a kind and melodious tone.

"But who are you? and wherefore have you brought me hither?" exclaimed Agnes. "Oh! remember--you spoke of that old man--my grandfather--the shepherd of the Black Forest----"

"You shall see him--you shall be restored to him," answered the stranger.

"But will he receive me--will he not spurn me from him?" asked Agnes, in a wildly impa.s.sioned--almost hysterical tone.

"The voice of pity cannot refuse to heave a sigh for thy fall," was the response. "If thou wast guilty in abandoning one who loved thee so tenderly, and whose earthly reliance was on thee, he, whom you did so abandon, has not the less need to ask pardon of thee. For he speedily forgot his darling Agnes--he traveled the world over, yet sought her not--her image was, as it were, effaced from his memory. But when accident----"

"Oh! signor, you are mistaken--you know not the old man whom I deserted, and who was a shepherd on the verge of the Black Forest!" interrupted Agnes, in a tone expressive of bitter disappointment, "for he, who loved me so well, was old--very old, and could not possibly accomplish those long wanderings of which you speak. Indeed, if he be still alive--but that is scarcely possible----"

And she burst into tears.

"Agnes," cried the stranger, "the venerable shepherd of whom you speak accomplished those wanderings in spite of the ninety winters which marked his age. He is alive, too----"

"He is alive!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the lady, with reviving hopes.

"He is alive--and at this moment in Florence!" was the emphatic answer.

"Did I not ere now tell thee as much in the church?"

"Yes--I remember--but my brain is confused!" murmured Agnes, pressing her beautiful white hands upon her polished brow. "Oh, if he be indeed alive--and so near me as you say--delay not in conducting me to him; for he is now the only being on earth to whom I dare look for solace and sympathy."

"You are even now beneath the roof of your grandfather's dwelling," said the stranger, speaking slowly and anxiously watching the effect which this announcement was calculated to produce upon her to whom he addressed himself.