Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf. George W. M. Reynolds

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      “Your passion can scarcely be an honorable one, Francisco,” was the reproach conveyed by Nisida, while her countenance wore a corresponding expression.

      “I would sooner die than harbor an injurious thought in respect to that virtuous and beautiful creature!” responded the young count, his face flushed with the glow of generous emotions. “My happiness is intimately connected with this attachment, Nisida, and I feel convinced that you would rather forward my views than oppose them.”

      “Yes, dear brother,” was the reply which she conveyed to him: “your happiness is my only consideration.”

      But, as she gave this assurance, an ill-subdued sigh escaped her breast, and she compressed her lips tightly to crush the emotions that were agitating her. A cloud evanescently appeared on the broad and marble forehead; the penciled brows contracted, and the eyes flashed brightly—oh! far more brightly than glanced the ray of the morning sun through the windows, upon the glossy surface of her luxuriant hair. A momentary spasm seemed to convulse the full and rounded form; and the small, elegantly shaped foot which peered from beneath her flowing robe, tapped the floor twice with involuntary movement.

      Mistress as she usually was of even her most intense feelings, and wonderfully habituated by circumstances to exercise the most complete command over her emotions, she was now for an instant vanquished by the gush of painful sentiments which crowded on her soul.

      Francisco did not, however, observe that transitory evidence of acute feeling on the part of his sister—a feeling which seemed to partake of the nature of remorse, as if she were conscience-stricken!

      For she loved her brother deeply—tenderly, but after the fashion of her own wild and wonderful disposition—a love that was not calculated always to prove friendly to his interests.

      Francisco paced the room in an agitated manner.

      At length he stopped near where his sister was standing, and intimated to her that Flora might perhaps have repaired to the residence of her aunt.

      Nisida conveyed to him this answer: “The moment that I missed Flora ere now, I dispatched a domestic to her aunt’s cottage; but she has not been there since Sunday last.”

      “Some treachery is at work here, Nisida,” was the young count’s response. “Flora has not willingly absented herself.”

      At this moment Francisco’s page entered the apartment to announce that Dr. Duras was in the reception-room.

      The young count made a sign to his sister to accompany him; and they proceeded to the elegant saloon where the physician was waiting.

      Having saluted the count and Nisida with his usual urbanity, Dr. Duras addressed himself to the former, saying, “I have just learnt from your lordship’s page that the favorite attendant on your sister has most unaccountably disappeared.”

      “And both Nisida and myself are at a loss what to conjecture, or how to act,” replied Francisco.

      “Florence is at this moment the scene of dreadful crimes,” observed the physician. “Yesterday morning a young female was murdered by a near neighbor of mine——”

      “I was astounded when I heard of the arrest of Signor Wagner on such a charge,” interrupted the count. “He was latterly a frequent guest at this house: although, I believe, you never happened to meet him here?”

      “No,” answered the physician; “but I saw him at the funeral of your lamented father, and once or twice since in the garden attached to his mansion; and I certainly could not have supposed, from his appearance, that he was a man capable of so black a crime. I was, however, about to observe that Florence is at this moment infested by a class of villains who hesitate at no deed of turpitude. This Signor Wagner is a foreigner, possessed of immense wealth, the sources of which are totally unknown; and, moreover, it is declared that the sbirri, yesterday morning, actually traced the robber-captain Stephano to the vicinity of his mansion. All this looks black enough, and it is more than probable that Wagner was in league with the redoubtable Stephano and his banditti. Then the mysterious disappearance of Flora is, to say the least, alarming, for I believe she was a well conducted, virtuous, estimable young woman.”

      “She was—she was indeed!” exclaimed Francisco. “At least,” he added, perceiving that the physician was somewhat astonished at the enthusiasm with which he spoke—“at least, such is my firm impression; such, too, is the opinion of my sister.”

      “The motive which brought me hither this morning,” said Dr. Duras, “was to offer you a little friendly advice, which my long acquaintance with your family, my dear count, will prevent you from taking amiss.”

      “Speak, doctor—speak your thoughts!” cried Francisco, pressing the physician’s hand gratefully.

      “I would recommend you to be more cautious how you form an intimacy with strangers,” continued Dr. Duras. “Rumor has a thousand tongues—and it is already reported in Florence that the alleged murderer was on familiar terms with the noble Count of Riverola and Lady Nisida.”

      “The duke himself is liable to be deceived in respect to the real character of an individual,” said Francisco proudly.

      “But his highness would not form hasty acquaintances,” replied the physician. “After all, it is with the best possible feeling that I offer you my counsel—knowing your generous heart, and also how frequently generosity is imposed upon.”

      “Pardon the impatience with which I answered you, my dear friend,” exclaimed the young count.

      “No pardon is necessary,” said the physician; “because you did not offend me. One word more and I must take my leave. Crimes are multiplying thickly in Florence, and Stephano’s band becomes each day more and more daring; so that it is unsafe to walk alone in the city after dusk. Beware how you stir unattended, my dear Francisco, at unseasonable hours.”

      “My habits are not of that nature,” replied the count. “I, however, thank you cordially for your well-meant advice. But you appear to connect the disappearance of Flora Francatelli,” he added, very seriously, “with the dreadful deed supposed to be committed by Signor Wagner!”

      “I merely conjecture that this Wagner is associated with that lawless horde who have become the terror of the republic,” answered the physician; “and it is natural to suppose that these wretches are guilty of all the enormous crimes which have lately struck the city with alarm.”

      Francisco turned aside to conceal the emotions which these remarks excited within him; for he began to apprehend that she whom he loved so fondly had met with foul play at the hands of the bravoes and banditti whom Stephano was known to command.

      Dr. Duras seized that opportunity to approach Nisida, who was standing at the window; and as he thrust into her hand a note, which was immediately concealed in her dress, he was struck with surprise and grief at the acute anguish that was depicted on her countenance.

      Large tears stood on her long, dark lashes, and her face was ashy pale.

      The physician made a sign of anxious inquiry; but Nisida, subduing her emotions with an almost superhuman effort, pressed his hand violently and hurried from the room.

      Dr. Duras shook his head mournfully, but also in a manner which showed that he was at a loss to comprehend that painful manifestation of feeling on the part СКАЧАТЬ