Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 285: what you’re looking at

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

ny ee ——— —— —— — ~—— AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 277 The nobleman briefly explained how Ginevra had visited Nino Corso’s lodging on the preceding evening, and how he had overheard her state to Benedetta her intention of confessing everything to the priest on the ensuing day. The Count re- vealed the remainder of the incident, as it is al- ready known to the reader: but he earnestly besought Charles De Vere to keep the whole af- fair profoundly secret. A pledge to this effect was readily given by the generous youth; and then he said, ‘ What will your lordship now do !— for Oh! I beseech you to remember that however guilty Silvio may be, he is nevertheless your son— your own flesh and blood!” “JT know it—alas, I know it!” replied the Count. ‘ Generous young man! this appeal shall not be made to mein vain. A few minutes back I thought that I must kill my son—yes, ruth- lessly slay him 2 Charles shuddered visibly, as he said, ‘‘ No, no! —for God’s sake, my lord, banish such horrible ideas from your mind !” “They are already banished,’ answered the Count, with a solemn sincerity. ‘ But still such stupendous guilt cannot remain altogether un- punished! My wretched son is to come to me in the evening; and I will then banish him for ever from my sight. I will disinberit him like- wise. This is not a vengeance that I shall wreak —but a just chastisement which I shall inflict !” Charles De Vere could not utter a syllable of remonstrance against a decision which the whole aspect of circumstances demanded and necessitated. It was impossible for him to plead more than he had done on the guilty Silvio’s behalf: he could not blame the father for disinheriting such a son. *€ And now, my lord,” he said, at length break- ing silence, “let me conjure you to return without delay to your abode. You are incurring frightful risks “ You know not, my young friend,” interrupted the Count, with mingled bitterness and sadness of look and tone, ‘how lightly 1 now hold my life. Yet will I wilfully incur no additional risk. I will depart hence—I will return to my humble lodging. ‘We must separate: but before I leave Naples [ shall see you again, or I shall communicate with you; for I must find a more fitting opportunity of expressing my gratitude for all the magnanimity of your conduct.” The Count now readjusted his disguise by re- suming the green spectacles and the ecclesiastical- shaped hat, and having pressed with fervour the hand of Charles De Vere, he issued from the church. He was wending his way back to his lodgings, when an idea occurred to his mind ; and he said within himself, “ Yes—it will be better to know every particular, however minute !—it will be better to ascertain every detail of this sad and fearful drama !” The Count of Camerino still continued his way towards the same quarter in which the house where be dwelt was situated: but on reaching that neighbourhood, he did not at once return to his lodging—he bent his steps to the house inhabited by Signor Visso, his guilty wife’s relative. We should observe that the Count was but little known to Signor and Signora Visso; for he had never held the slightest intercourse with these persons— he was not even on speaking terms with them. — eee ) He therefore felt well convinced that his diszuise was so complete as to baflle any chance of recog- nition on their part. On reaching the house, his summons at the door was answered by a female domestic; and on in- quiring for Signor Visgo, the nobleman was at once admitted into the room where the surgeon was accustomed to receive his patients—for the domes- tic thought that the seeming priest came to con- sult her master professionally. In a few moments the surgeon made his appearance; and he bowed with the respect which the citizens of Naples are wont to observe towards members of the ecclesias- tical hierarchy. “How can I serve your reverence ?” asked the medical practitioner, anticipating a liberal fee from the respectable appearance of the seeming priest. “By dealing frankly with me in reference to the queries which I am about to put to you!” re- sponded the Count, fixing his eyes with a sudden threatening fierceness upon the surgeon. ‘“ Your guilty complicity in certain matters is known; and if you value your own safety, you will now deal with sincerity.” The conscience of Signor Visso was very far from being so pure as to enable him to sustain with calmness or self-possession the shock of this sudden address: he turned pale, and faltered out, “ How have I offended your reverence ? what have I done?” ‘A few words will explain the object of my presence here,” rejoined the Count. ‘You are acquainted with the Viscount Silvio di Camerino— you are the relative of the Countess Ginevra,” The surgeon now gazed with an indescribable terror upon the seeming priest; but ke could not give utterance to a word—his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth—he gasped—and guilt was in every sense depicted upon his features. Speak !”” said the Count of Camerino. “It was beneath this roof that the frail, fallen woman to whom I have alluded, became the mother of a child —illegitimately — aye, almost incestuously born! Was it not so?” “Tt was—it was,” said the trembling surgeon, “ But who has told your reverence all this >— why do you come to me? who has sent you ?” “Tt is not for you to question,” answered the Count: “it is your part to reply to the queries put from my lips. Listen! One night—about a fortnight back—that illegitimately born child was consigned by its guilty and half distracted mother to the care of a stranger under circumstances so exceedingly strange and suspicious that they must be investigated. To you these circumstances can- not possibly be unknown ie “ Holy father,” interrupted the surgeon, who was under the influence of the direst terror, “I will tell you all but whatever be your power or authority in the matter, I conjure you to spare me! Everything wherein I have found myself an accomplice, was dictated or ordered by the Vis- count Silvio. It was he who decided upon making away with the babe!—it was he who de- vised the plan for taking the life of the young Englishman in the ruins of St. Nicholas a “Gently,” said the Count, who at once per- ceived that his knowledge of the whole iniquitous transactions was indeed hitherto incomplete, and COMmicooolkxs a) Om