Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 341: what you’re looking at

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

re AGNES; OB, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE, would have been an arrest—a disturbance ! — he would certainly have captured her at any risk and ‘peril to himself ; for never, with his high notions of propriety and honour, would he have allowed her to remain concealed beneath his roof! And he would have spoken of the circumstance; for that would have been something that he would not have considered himself bound to hide. Or he would have secretly consulted Palmas—they would have been closeted together! But nothing of all this has happened ; and therefore La Dolfina i ig still safe in her hiding-place. Besides, *tis evident from what Voitura said, that Charles went only to the subterranean to assure himself that the private correspondence was safely concealed there; and doubtless on regaining his senses after that blow that he received, he was only too glad to hasten back to his own apartment. But Ah! why should I not descend into the subterranean and ascertain for myself, beyond mere conjecture, that La Dolfina is safe, and that she is progressing well with the task that she has taken in hand P” Yet though the Princess mentally put this ques- tion to herself, she did not move from the sofa:— on the contrary, she felt her soul recoiling from the bare idea of seeking that detestable woman amidst the deep silence and awful gloom of the vaults be- neath the mansion. The daring courage of Bianca dissolved at the thought of finding herself face to face with that wretch who dealt with such a hide- ous skill in subtle poisons. The Princess might have faced a lion if need had been: but she could not bring herself to penetrate voluntarily into a morass where a venomous reptile was gliding. Though prepared in the depths of her own soul to commit the darkest crimes, yet Bianca shuddered at the image of the woman whom she had invoked to assist her in that pathway of turpitude. “No!” she said to herself; ‘I will not go! Who can tell what such a fiend-like creature may do to me? Besides, it is but a matter of a few hours, and I shall know whether I have anything to look for in that quarteror not. What were her words? That when I seek my boudoir for the dinner-toilet, I shall find the phial upon the table. Welland good! If it be there, all will have gone well with her: but if it be wot there, it will then be time enough for me to ascertain what has be- come of her.” Such were the reflections of the Princess of Spartivento with regard to La Dolfina; and then, as the impassioned woman pressed her hands to her throbbing brows, she mentally apostrophized our young hero in terms that were fully consistent with the agitated condition of her feelings. “Ob, beautiful youth! why were we ever des- tined to meet? Why were you so suddenly thrown into my path?—was it to be unto mea source of happiness or misery? What may I now expect? Ob, this love of mine! how fierce and yet how tender !—how strong is it in itself, and yet what a weakness is it! O Charles! shall I ever clasp thee in these arms? will thy head ever be pillowed upon this breast? will thy lips ever meet mine? Dare I hope to inspire thee with one scintillation of that mighty flame of passion which burns and rages with volcanic fury in the depths of my own bosom? or art thou too deeply enamoured of Lucia? No, no! it is impossible that you can prefer the sentimental Lucia to my impassioned 333 self! It is but the delusion of the moment under which thou art labouring! At all events let me think that I can yet bring thee to love me. Without that hope I should die !—without that idea I should swallow the poison which I intend for another !”’ Then the Princess—closing her eyes, and placing her hands over them, as if hermetically to seal them in such a way that she might shut out all external objects —abandoned herself to delicious and luxurious thoughts,—giving full scope to her imagination, and buoying up her fancy with the idea that every obstacle had been set aside and that she was now happy in the possession of the young Englishman’s love. But suddenly an idea struck her; and starting up from the sofa, with a dead pallor upon her countenance, she ejaculated, “Good heavens! what will he think when he beholds her whom he now loves falling dead at his feet? Will he believe that it was apoplexy P or will he suspect foul play ? No—it is impossible that he can suppose me capable of such a crime! Impossible! And I will tell him that it is in consequence of all the excitement through which my poor sister has re- cently passed—and I will shed torrents of tears Oh, I will dissemble! And then, to be alone beneath this roof with Charles—without a rival— in full freedom to practise all a woman’s wiles and blandishments towards him—Oh! is it possible that I can fail? Must I not succeed? must I not conquer? and must not he succumb? Am I not grandly handsome? If the image of my sister cannot be banished from his memory by the actual presence of such a face and form as these”—and she was now contemplating herself in the mirror —‘‘then may it be said that never yet was there a veritable spell in woman’s beauty! Oh, yes! I shall succeed!—TI shall suceeed! But if not P— Ab! then life will have nothing to induce me to cling to it!—the whole world will become a waste to my contemplation—and death shall release me from my miseries! And not alone to the silent grave willl go! No!—for if Ae wili not be mine, he shall not live to become another’s !” Such a terrible expression swept over her coun- tenance as she came to this resolve, that she was absolutely frightened at her own looks; and she abruptly turned away from the mirror which re- flected them. Then she threw herself again upon the sofa; and it was in the following channel that her thoughts next flowed :— “‘How is it that I have become thus changed— and all in a few days? ‘To think that I whose virtue was so strong that my very look overawed the libertine—to think that I who was never wont to harbour an impure thought—should now be ready—aye, and madly yearn to throw myself into the arms of this young man! To think that I who was so proud of my unblemished reputation, and who would sooner have perished than descend from the pedestal of purity even to win the favour of a King, should now be willing to become the mistress—aye, the slave of this English youth! Can love do all this? has love that power? Qh, where are all the oaths that I have sworn on be- half of the cause of Italian freedom ?—oaths that over and over again I have repeated in the pre- sence of the effigy of my perished husband? Where are they? Scattered to the winds!—and all by the potent wand of love! 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