Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

— TT SS se tee sess a — — ee es ee 94 what summarily, the reader may rest assured that it was by no process more violent than that of the application of the handsome Frenchman’s lips. A few rapid explanations were exchanged, — Antonia stating what had last happened betwixt herself and the Marchioness—and Edgar, on the other hand, informing the astonished damsel how Lucrezia had become his prisoner. “You must now go with me, Antonia,” said Marcellin. “Go with you, signor!” exclaimed the girl, her countenance lighting up with pleasure. “Yes, I cannot think of leaving you to the malignity and vindictiveness of this vile woman. Besides, her knell will soon ring now: for it is clear as heaven’s own blessed sun itself, that each successive circumstance draws the web of her own iniquities more closely in around her. Yes! you must come with me, Antonia. Be quick—put together what necessaries you may choose to take 7 “Oh, I will not be many minutes, signor !” she ejaculated: and she was already tripping with her dainty feet towards the door, when bethinking herself of something, she turned back to ask, “Where am [I to rejoin you ?” “In the Signora Ciprina’s apartments,” re- sponded Marcellin: “for we will issue forth by the secret passage. But Ah! a thought has struck me! You shall rejoin me here. As well wait in one place as another!—and during the delay I may possibly make some good use of the time.” Antonia flitted forth from the boudoir, while Edgar Marcellin instantaneously appeared to be intent on a general search or “rummage.” He opened drawers wherever he could find them; and then he laid his hands upon an elegant writing- desk which stood upon a side-table. The desk was locked; but he unhesitatingly wrenched it open,—muttering to himself, “ I feel as if I were an officer of justice, having aright to search everything and everywhere! Who knows what may turn up? Who can tell what additional evidence may transpire? Ah! whatisthat? A phial? Yes!—wrapped in a piece of paper! Ah, and writing on that paper! Aname! Well, I shall not forget it! But better still—Zi will take both phial and wrapper with me! And now, amongst all these notes and billets, may there not be something to serve as a link—something of a compromising character? No! fie upon thee, Edgar Marcellin! These are naught but love- billets — and the amatory secrets even of such a wretch as Lucrezia di Mirano ought to be sacred !” The young Frenchman was thus checked in the midst of his search by a chivalrous feeling which was natural enough for one of his peculiarly lofty- minded nation. He had snatched up a handful of notes that lay in the desk—he was just on the point of thrusting them back again, when his eye caught sight of a name at the bottom of one of those letters. “ Ah! Ramorino !” he said: “this may bé im- portant! By heavens there shall be no scruple nor false delicacy here !” He accordingly ran his eyes over the letter, the sontents of which were brief—but they were evi- aently of a. certain degree of consequence, for Marcellin at once consigned the document to the AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. same pocket to which he had already conveyed — the phial and the piece of paper that enveloped it. Searcely was this proceeding finished, when An- tonia reappeared, now dressed in walking-costume and carrying a package under her mantle. “Ob, signor,” she ejaculated, as she beheld the drawers gaping wide open, and the desk seeming to indicate that its mysteries had been violated ; “you have indeed made the best use of your time!” “ And perhaps not altogether without effect,” rejoined Marcellin quickly. “ But come! let us depart !” “ T am ready,” said Antonia ; and they accord- ingly issued forth from the boudoir. Equally fortunate as he was while coming thither, Edgar Marcellin encountered no one on his way back to the suite of apartments where he had left the Marchioness of Mirano. On enter- ing the ante-room by aid of the key which he had taken with him, he relocked the door, and again secured the key about his person. “Where is the Marchioness?” asked Antonia, not without a slight apprehension lest that formi- dable lady should suddenly make her appearance, free from her bonds, and ready as well as powerful for fresh mischief. “In the room which your mistress used to occupy since I came here,” responded Marcellin. “And why do you take that key, signor ?” was Antonia’s next question. “Oh, you shall know hereafter, my dear girl!” rejoined Edgar. “ But, by the bye, as I have a particular aversion to the chance of being handed over to the police before all my combinations are made and my plans ripe, we will just assure our- selves that the Marchioness is still tightly bound. Besides, I have my portmanteau to fetch !” “Oh, do permit me, signor, to remain here in the meantime !” said Antonia entreatingly : “for I do not know how it is, but since I have learnt all the wickedness of this Marchioness, I expe- rience a horrible dread of her, just fof all the world as if she had thrown off a beautiful mask and dis- played the head of a snake with the forked tongue playing between its livid jaws.” “ Remain you here then, Antonia,” said Mar- cellin: and as he proceeded towards the inner chamber, he muttered to himself, “ By heaven? the girl has, without any studied flourish of rhetoric, afforded a most admirable simile in re- spect to this vile woman!” , He entered the chamber where he had left her; and a glance showed him that she was still se- curely bound. It was not now a look replete with mischief nor full of demoniac passion, which Lucrezia cast up towards the young Frenchman ; but it was one in which all the dissimulation of her nature poured itself forth, as it were, in an expression of anguished entreaty. But that she had struggled desperately to release herself during the time she had been left alone, was evident from the disordered state uf her toilet. Her bodice had burst open—her superb bosom was all exposed— and the traces of tears were on her cheeks, as if in her rage she had wept at the impotency of her endeavours to free herself from the bonds. “ Ob, Edgar!” she murmured, “ can you be so cruel? What can_I do to move you? Release me! Say that there shall be veave between us— Ghboo (©) =