Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

3 | 18 AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. tomed to use. Another glance and she was stil fact that it was one of the kind she was = atl more deeply struck by recognising the seal which | was on the top of a perivil-case lying in the ink- standish on the boudoir-table. Had the letter been written within the walls of that boudoir ? If so, who could have penetrated thither? The Marchioness was already in such a frame of mind that every incident, however trivial, became in- vested with importance—every circumstance at all strange seemed fraught with a suspicion. She did not therefore dare open that billet in the pre- sence of her maidens, for fear it might contain something to produce an effect upon herself, or for fear lest the eyes of either one of them should catch a glimpse of its contents, “You can retire, maidens,” she said, adopting the same gentle and kind tone which she was wont to use towards her dependants. “I can dispense with your services for to-night. Go and seek your own chambers.” The damsels made a respectful curtsy, and withdrew from the boudoir. But in the passage outside, they exchanged significant looks, as much es to imply that they had no doubt the billet heralded the coming of some lover whose presence the Marchioness was therefore momentarily ex- pecting. Scarcely had the door of the boudoir closed behind those damsels, when the Marchioness tore open the billet; and her countenance became deadly pale as ker eyes glanced over its contents. Not that she recognised the handwriting of Edgar Marcellin; not that she even for an instant sus- pected who the author of the billet might be! But it was the mystery of the occurrence which thus smote her with dread. What could the ville6 mean? who was its writer? Was he friend er foe?—did he purpose to aid her in the midst of the embarassments which were thickening sround her? or was his object to betray her? Or else, was it some new calamity that was about to threaten her ?—or might it not be an endeavour on the part of Signor Paoli to obtain another in- terview with her? This idea seemed to be the most probable; and the Marchioness resolved to obey the summons and repair to the place of ap- pointment. * Let me at all events know the best or the worst with the least possible delay,” she murmured to herself: “ suspense is intolerable!” As her maidens had begun to disappsrei her previous to their abrupt dismissal from the boudoir, a portion of the elegant attire which Lucrezia had worn for the entertainment had been laid aside. Her hair was in disorder—partlr combed out, partly as she had worn it during the evening. She snatched up some light loose species of morning wrapper which she hastily put on: she beheld a white veil lying near—this she caught up and threw over her head. Then she lighted | a small chamber lamp, of exquisite manufacture, and the framework of which was of silver. She was about to pass forth from the boudoir, when a thought struck her. She stopped short—a véry peculiar expression seized upon her countenance: it was as if a fiend had suddenly looked forth from the face of an angel! Deeply ominous— darkly sinister, was that expressiun ; and she mut- mured to herself, ““Yes—either for defence against treachery—or else to strike down an avowed enemy !” She retreated into the toilet chamber: she opened the very wardrobe the contents of which had been so recently inspected by Edgar Marcellin ; and she unlocked a drawer. It was however one which he had found no occasion to open;—ahd thence Lucrezia di Mirano took forth a dagger. This she concealed amongst her garments; and taking up the lamp a-ain, she issued forth from the boudoir. In a few mizites the door of the picture-gallery was slowly and cautiously opened; and Lucrezia appeared upon the threshold. She endeavoured to plunge her looks along the vista of gloom into the darkness which lay beyond, to discern who might be the individual that was awaiting her; but she couid distinguish no one. She advanced —but still proceeding cautiously, for fear lest dny unknown treachery should suddenly develop itself from the midst of that darkness. She held the lamp in one hand: the other hand was thrust amidst the folds of her garments, clutching the dagger which she was thus ready to draw forth at any moment. Her form clothed in that light loose drapery, had the air, as it advanced through the semi-obseurity, of a corpse which had burst the cerements of the tomb and had come forth to walk the earth again. So deep was the darkness which prevailed in the long gallery—so compara. tively feeble was the light of the small chamber. lamp—that the white figure of the Marchioncss would indeed have produced this effect upon Edear if he had been unprepared for her presence and if he knew not who she was. But from his place of concealment, which was now in the deep shade of the angle made by the projection of the chimney, he beheld her advancing. She came slong the gallery, casting her eyes to the right and to the left—stopping every few moments,—looking like Lady Macbeth in her troubled conscience- haunted somnambulism ! At length the Marchioness arrived precisely opposite the place where the portrait of Lacrezia Borgia was suspended; and then as if suddenly recollecting the fact, she stopped short. It was almost with a species of ghastly terror that sho gazed up at that portrait; and as her hand trem- bled, the vibration of the rays flung by the lamp, actually gave to the countenance upon the canvass , the appearance of animation. It seemed as if the jeyes glanced—the lips moved,—as if the colout were Coming and going upon the cheeks—as if the full voluptuous bosom were heaving with re- spiration. Vague terrors were seiziig upon the Marchioness of Mirano — hideous presentiments were gathering fast in around her: but how deadly cold did the blow seem to strike to her heart—how suddenly was the blood congealed in | her veins, when a human voice broke upon the solemn and awful silence which had hitherto pre- vailed, and which the light footfalls of the Mar- chioness could scarcely be said to have broken. It was thus the voice spoke :— “One Lucrezia proves the prototype of the other! Lucrezia Borgia was not more exquisite in beauty nor moré diabolical in heart than Lucrezia Mirano! The two Lucrezias shall be- come equally infamous in the annals of crime! The destiny of ome has been long ago falfilleds (EO) LOOLK 5}