Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 171: what you’re looking at

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

AGNES; OR, BEAUTY ANP PLEASURE. 163 “ Good God! what can have happened?” cried the Count of Ramorino; though at the instant he was smitten with a horrible idea as to the nature of the catastrophe that might have taken place. He rushed forth from the room, the young men closely following him: he sped into the court-yard of his house, just at the instant when some of the agents of the Minister of the Interior were spring- ing over the wall. Ejaculations of horror burst from the lips of Edgar and Charles De Vere, as they beheld a female form lying, like a huddled-up heap or shapeless mass of garments, on the pavement, which was stained with blood. But with another glance Edgar Marcellin recognised those luxuriant tresses of golden auburn hair; and he cried, “’Tis she! ’tis the wretched Lucrezia!” Ramorino raised up that form, at the same time calling vehemently for surgical assistance to be sent for. But at the first moment he had well known that it was too late,—though as a matter of course he affected to be ignorant of the circumstances attending Lucrezia’s death. A medical man was quickly on the spot, but life was extinct. Edgar Marcellin and Charles De Vere went away from the private residence of Count Ramorino. They called at Signor Petroro’s, and informed Paoli of what had happened: they thence proceeded to the hotel where Ciprina had established her quar- ters in company with the Hardress family ; and on learning from a domestic that the young lady was still sitting up, Charles De Vere penned a fow lines which he requested might be given to her at once, but he would not disturb her at that late hour further than by means of this missive. The two young gentlemen then separated, and repaired re- spectively to the French and English Hmbassies— each with a strong and awful impression upon his mind of the fearful tragedy which had closed the career of Lucrezia di Mirano. At the very time when the rumour was spread- ing throughout the neighbourhood of Ramorino’s private residence, that something terrible had hap- pened there, old Furlo the miser was creeping along the street, having about his person the sum he had agreed to advance upon the security of the pictures. He inquired what was the cause of the excitement which prevailed in the district; but all ke could learn was that an accident of a dreadful nature had happened somewhere in the neighbourhood—but where it was no one could as yet tell. Furlo pur- sued his way to the back entrance of Count Ramo- rino’s abode: the door had just been burst open by one of the agents of the Minister of the Interior— and the old miser passed in, He was half inclined to retreat: he thought there must be something wrong in connexion with Remorino or bis affairs ; but curiosity induced him to pursue his way, He reached the court-yard just as the form of a woman was being borne into the house. “What is the matter?” demanded Furlo of a person who was now near to him. “ Was that a dead body?” “ Yes,” replied the man, who was one of the agents of the Minister of the Interior: “ it is the corpse of the Marchioness di Mirano, who has just eommitted suicide, it is sapposed, by throwing her- self from a window, or else she was making her escape along the top of the house, But we shall know aii about it presently.” “ At all events she isdead,” observed the miser “ And her property?” * All confiscated,” was thereply. ‘“ The seizure is doubtless made by this time—for some of my comrades have gone about it.” ‘Well, it is altogether a bad business,” said the old man; and he was turning to leave'the court- yard when some one hastened towards him and laid his hand upon his shoulder. It was the Minister of Police; and in a low deep voice he said, “Ah! you are here, my friend ! Stop a few moments, and I shall be prepared to attend to you.” . ‘But the Marchioness is dead !” replied the old man. “Tt matters nothing, Furlo,” rejoined Ramorino earnestly, as he drew the miser a little further aside. “The pictures are here es “But the seizure is made by this time at the Mirano mansion,” interjected the old man, “and the confiscation holds good upon all the property of the deceased Marchioness wheresoever it may be found.” ““No one will know where the pictures are!” ejaculated Ramorino vehemently. “I will screen and protect you!” *‘T really begin to be afraid, my lord,” rejoined the old man, “that you will find it somewhat difficult to screen and protect vourself. I do not like the business—I will have nothing to do with it—and I bid your lordship farewell.” Thus speaking, Furlo hurried away; and Ramo- rino seeing his last hope destroyed, dashed his hand frantically against his forehead, exclaiming to himself, “Then I am lost! I am lost !” CHAPTER XXVIII. FLORIBEL AND EDGAR, Iv was in the evening of the day following that night of memorable adventures the recital of which has occupied so many chapters. Ciprina was seated alone at the hotel where she had taken up her quarters; she was in an elegant evening toilet, and she looked exceedingly beautiful. There was a certain agitation in her manner—a nervous restlessness as she glanced frequently towards the door, as if she expected some one who did not make his appearance. At length the door was thrown open, and a waiter announced M. Mar- cellin. The young Frenchman was dressed in full evening costume ; and ke looked remarkably handsome. In fact it struck Ciprina the instant he stood in her presence, that he had never seemed to greater ad~- vantage; while on the other hand a similar thought smote the young gentleman in reference to the lady herself. It was with a friendly fervour that he grasped her hand: he felt that it trembled in his own:—for an instant he flung a look of anxious and earnest scrutiny upon her; and then conducting her to a seat, he placed himself by her side. “JT could not get away earlier from the English Embassy,” said Marcellin. “It was a splendid entertainment! Of course you know that the COmiclboOoks.cO A nn