Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 275: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

altogether secret P—will the issue of a pardon be aseoret ? Ina word, can everything be so well managed that my father may not kuow and the world may never suspect that it is I, tue Viscount of Camerino, who heve perpetrated this awful crime ?” “The secret is veritably in your own keeping,” answered the Chief of the Police; “ because if you breathe not a sentence thereof to a single soul, no other lips will give publicity unto it.” “Then be it all as your Excellency has pro- posed,” rejoined Silvio. “ Bat it is for me to ask a question in my turn,” said the Chief of the Police; “and if you wish the bargain to be kept, you will see the necessity of replying in truthfulness to this question.” “Speak, my lord,” said the Viscount. “You are about to remain within these walls, a close prisoner, for perhaps twelve hours—more or less. Will your disappearance excite any suspicion ? —will your father miss you during the interval? —in short, will the very circumstance of this dis- appearance cause him to suspect that you are cap- tured, and by alarming him on account of his own safety, induce him to flee ?” “Wo,” replied the Viscount of Camerino: “it was understood that I should not see wy father again until to-morrow evening ; and in no other respect can my disappearance for a few hours en- gender the slightest suspicion at all calculated to mar our projects.” “°Tis well,” said the Chief of the Police. “ And now everything is perfectly understood between us. Have the kindness to remain here for a few moments.” The Minister, having thus spoken, issued from his cabinet, closing the door behind him. Silvio stood in front of the desk, his arms folded across his chest—his countenance bent downward with an expression of sullen gloomy desperation. Not many moments however had elapsed since he was thus left alone, when a curtain at the further extremity of the cabinet was pushed aside, and one of the most beautiful female faces that Silvio had ever in his life seen, peeped into the room; for that curtain concealed a private door which opened noiselessly upon its hinges. The charming coun- tenance was however instantaneously withdrawn; for the young lady was evidently startled either on bebolding some one there at all, or else at perceiy- ing a different person than the one whom she ex- pected to find. The curtain fell into its place; and the lovely vision vanished from Silvio’s view. A minute afterwards the Chief of the Police re- entered the cabinet, followed by a footman in livery. “My two agents are gone, my lord,” he said, thus addressing the Viscount in a whispering voice; “‘and the seal of secrecy rests upon their lips. Have the kindness to accompany this ser- vant, who is placed at your lorcship’s orders.” Silvio bowed and followed the domestic from the cabinet—not by the curtained door, but by the one which had previously given him admission. The Minister bowed coldly in acknowledgment of the still colder salute on the Viscount’s part. The young nobleman was led by the footman along a passage, where they met no one, into a handsomely furnished sitting-apartment, with a bed-chamber communicating Wax-lights were burning upon AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 267 the table, where there was also a tray covered with a variety of refreshments. It was evident that all these preparations had been made on the young nobleman’s account. **} hope you will be satisfied with these apart. ments, Signor,” said the fvootman, thus addressing Silvio.as if he were a civilian—thereby proving that he either really did not know who he was, or else had been instructed not to know him. “ The view is certainly not very pleasing; but as I un- derstand that you are not likely to pass more than the night within these walls, it signifies little.” Thus speaking, the footman opened one of the casements; and Silvio mechanically looked out,— this being indeed the purpose fur which the do- mestic’s remarks were made. The windows of the two rooms, which were on the first floor, looked upon a small court-yard entirely surrounded by tho high buildings forming the Prefecture of Police; and to and fro on the pavement of that yard a sentinel was pacing, the moonlight gleaming on the point of his fixed bayonet. “As it is perfectly necessary to retain pri- soners here for a few hours,’ said the footman, still speaking in the same conversational yet re- spectful manner as before, “ the presence of a sen- tinel with loaded musket is only a wise precau. | tion; for it is not always that we have to deal with a gentleman like you, Signor.” Silvio made no response: and the domestic closed the casement, satisfied at having in as de- licate a manner as possible shown the captive the madness of attempting an escape. * Do you require anything more, Signor?” asked the footman, glancing at the tray upon the table to assure himself that everything requisite for a good supper was there provided. “Nothing,” answered the Viscount, without so much as flinging another regard upon those pre- parations. The footman bowed and withdrew, closing tha door behind bim. No sound was heard of either key turning in the lock or of bolt being shot into its socket: yet Silvio knew full well that even if such precautions as these had not been taken to ensure his safe custody, it was only because they were rendered needless by the existence of other barriers against anescape. He flung himself upon a seat and plunged into his gloomy reflections, “ Now,” he thought within himself, “am I more than ever a villain !—a villain of the deepest dye! Not contented with being the seducer of my father’s wife, I have agreed to betray that unfor- tunate sire of miuve to the scaffold! AmTI nota monster? Just heaven! does thy vengeance sleep while such deeds as these are done? Hast thou no lightnings wherewith to blast the parri- cide ?—hast thou no thuuders wherewith to strike him down ere the fulness of his iniquity be con- summated? Oh! I dare not lift my hand to my brow—for something is burning there—and I dread lest my fingers should encounter the brand of Cain thereupon! Wretcb, wretch that I am! is there no power of retreating P can I not yet ree pent and make atonement ?”’ But this paroxysm of anguish passed away— or, we should rather say, was absorbed in the in- tense selfishness of the young man’s nature, which again asserted its empire. He persuaded himself that he had gone too far to retreat, and that the CoOmmcooolkxs