Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

—- Se a 40 to have studied very much how to discipline her feelings. From the instant that she threw her protecting shield over Edgar Marcellin in the pic- ture-gallery, down to the present moment of which we are writing, she had exhibited more presence of mind, more fortitude, more deliberate firmness, and more energy, than ever she had be- fore displayed in all her life. But this moral strength suddenly gave way, and at the close of the speech which we have just recorded, Ciprina burst into tears, “Ab, my God!” exclaimed Edgar Marcellin, “how brutal is my conduct towards you! I who owe you so much, am acting as if I were indebted to you for nothing! Oh, Ciprina i “Do not excite yourself, Edgar,’ sie mur- mured: and as she sobbed convulsively the heav- ings of her bosom were visible to the invalid, so that he saw to what extent his tender nurse was affected. “Nay, but I must obtain your pardon, Ci- prina!” said Marcellin. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake make allowance for my condition at the moment! —enervated and enfeebled — with scarcely the mental power to form a correct judgment 4 “Ob, it is I who have been harsh and unkind !” sobbed Ciprina: “yes, itis 1! And it is I there- fore, Edgar, who beseech your forgiveness!” Her head drooped towards his countenance: he covered her lips and her cheeks with kisses—her bare arms were thrown about his neck—and as she pressed his head to her bosom, she murmured, “Oh, not for worlds, Edgar, would I do aught to injure you! JI would sooner die than afflict you!” ‘** Dearest, dearest Ciprina,” responded Mar- cellin, ‘it is bliss to be thus forgiven for the hasty words that have escaped my lips !’”—but as he thus spoke, there was a deep though unheard sigh at the bottom of his heart, for he was stricken with remorse as he felt that he was prov: ing perfidious to the image of Corinna Paoli. “And now, my dear Hdgar,” said Ciprina, “ compose yourself to slumber, if possible ; and I shall watch by your side for the remainder of the night. Ah!” she added, glancing at the time- piece on the mantel, “it is a quarter to two o’clock the morning is advancing !” Ciprina put on a warm wrapper ; and seating herself in an arm-chair by the side of Edgar’s couch, she remained there until it was time to give admission to Antonia between seven and eight o’clock in the morning. The whole of that day passed without any in- cident worthy of mention. Ciprina sought not the Marchioness—the Marchioness sought not her: and no message was exchanged between them. When evening came, Ciprina said to An- tonia, “ You will sleep in the ante-chamber to- night. Make up your bed on a sofa against the wainscot-wall on the side of the fire-place, No draught from the door can reach you there.” Antonia obeyed Ciprina’s instructions, without for a moment suspecting what ber object could be—indeed without fancying that she had any ulterior aim at all—but naturally supposing that it was only that she might be readily within call that she was ordered to occupy that ante-chamber. But this was not the only precaution which Ci- prina took. How could she tell but that there AGNES; OR, BFAUTY AND PLEASURE. was @ secret means of communication with every one of the rooms belonging to her suite? She did not think it probable; but still she was deter- mined to leave nothing to the chapter of accidents. She therefore fastened pieces of silken thread along the walls of the boudoir, her own chamber, and the room occupied by Edgar Marcellin. These threads communicated with another silken string, which Ciprina attached to a bell which she hung over the head of her own bed. Thus it was ut- terly impossible for any one to enter by a secret door without coming in contact with the silken threads and raising an alarm. The night however passed without any fresh incident to excite appre- hension ; and Ciprina—who had felt the absolute necessity of taking two or three hours’ rest—rose refreshed and invigorated ; while Edgar Marcellin was progressing most favourably. In the course of the forenoon of this same day, which was the third since the night when Edgar Marcellin received his wound, Antonia brought the intelligence to Ciprina that the Marchbioness was just setting off for her villa in the Vale of Arno, and that she sent her kind regards to the Sig- nora. “Ts there any message to take back ?” inquired Antonia. Ciprina reflected for a moment; and then she said, “‘ Nothing, beyond the delivery of my own kind regards to her ladyship.” * Do you think that this absence, either real or pretended, from the mansion,” inquired Edgar Marcellin, when Ciprina communicated to him what she had just heard,—* do you think that it portends some fresh machination P” “T know not what to think,” answered Ciprina. “Some few days ago, if the Marchioness had gone to her villa, I should have said that it was for some intrigue of gallantry: but now every- thing is changed, and every incident must be viewed with suspicion. We will be upon our guard. Open violence I do not for a moment apprehend: we are like two hostile camps watch- ing each other from a distance. As for any now attempt by the insidious means of poison, I scarcely think that Lucrezia will have recourse thereto. But again I say we shall be upon our guard—and moreover we have the antidote !” But here we must take leave of Ciprina and Edgar Marcellin for the present, and we must follow the Marchioness di Mirano to her beautiful villa, distant some few miles from Florence. Thither the reader has been introduced on @& former occasion; and therefore we shall not be compelled to interrupt the course of our narrative for the sake of much description. We will at once proceed to observe that when the evening came, Lucrezia di Mirano attired herself in the most elegant costume, and proceeded to that suite of beautifully furnished apartments which some months back she lent to Ciprina, and whithef Edgar Marcellin was introduced to the arms oi that young lady by the machinations of the unfor- tunate Giulio. The particular apartment in which the Mar- chioness of Mirano now took her seat to await the arrival of some one whom she expected, was brilliantly lighted by lamps held in the hands of exquisitely chiselled alabaster statues. These statues, though such beautiful specimens of the boo c S : (C@) 5}