The Sorceress of Rome. Gallizier Nathan

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      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.

      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.

      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.

      "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?"

      "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.

      "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."

      "The fiend for aught might make the same," replied Benilo. "What is your business here?"

      "Watching over dead men's bones," replied the bravo doggedly.

      "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."

      "'Tis for another to regulate all such honours," replied the bravo. "And it is an old saying, never trust a horse or a woman!"

      Benilo started as if the bravo had read his thoughts.

      "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?"

      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.

      "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."

      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.

      "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?"

      "Of my evil brother an evil instrument," replied John of the Catacombs enigmatically.

      "I fear you will have to learn manners in my school, Don Giovan," said Benilo in return. "But your answer. Are you ready?"

      "This very night?" gasped the bravo, suspecting the offer and fearful of a snare.

      "Why not?" demanded the Chamberlain curtly.

      "I am bound in another's service!"

      "You are an over-punctilious rogue, Don Giovan. To-morrow then!"

      "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.

      Benilo pretended not to see the proffered member. But before addressing himself further to John of the Catacombs he glanced round cautiously.

      "Are we alone?"

      The bravo nodded.

      "Is my presence here not proof enough?"

      The argument prevailed.

      "To our business then!" Benilo replied guardedly, seating himself upon a fragment of granite and watching every gesture of the bravo.

      "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!"

      There was a brief pause during which their eyes met.

      The outlaw's face twitched strangely. Or was it the play of the moonbeams?

      "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?"

      "I will follow him as his shadow," gurgled the bravo.

      Benilo held out a purse which John of the Catacombs greedily devoured with his eyes.

      "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!"

      "When shall it be?" queried the bravo.

      "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?"

      The bravo seemed to ponder.

      "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."

      Benilo nodded.

      "If I can trust you, the gain will be yours," he СКАЧАТЬ