Agnes: A Tale of the Streets — page 214: what you’re looking at

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

AGNES; OR, BEAUTY ANP PLEASURE, ““ Good God! what can have happened P” cried the Count of Ramorino; though at the instant he was smitten with a horrible idea as té 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 egerts of the Minister of the Interior were spring- ing over the wall. Kjaculations of horror burst from the lips of Edgar and Charles De Vere, aa they beheld a female form lying, like a buddied-up heap or shapeless mass of garments, on the pavement, which was stained with blood. But with another glance Edgar Marcellin recognieed those luxuriant tresses of golden auburn hair; and he cried, “ Tis she! "tis the wretched Lucresia !” Ramorino raised up that form, at the eame time calling vehementlp-for sifgical 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 be affected to be ignorant of the circumetances attending Lucrezia’s death. A medical man was quickly on the spot, but life was extinct, Edger Marcellin and Charlea De Vere went away from the private residence of Count* Ramorino. They called at Signor Petroro’s, end informed Paoli of what had happened: they thence proceeded to the hotel where Ciprina had established her quer- ters in company with the Hardrese family; and on earning from a domestic that the young lady was itill sitting up, Charles De Vere penned a few 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 thie missive. The two young gentlemen then separated, and repaired re- ipectively to the French and English Embassics— zach with a strong and awful impression upon his nind of the fearful tragedy which had closed the vareer of Lucresia di Misano. 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 she street, having about his person the sum be had greed to advance upon the security of the pictures. [le inquired what was the cause of the excitement which prevailed in the district; but all he could earn was that an accident of a dreadful nature had nappened eomewhere in the neighbourhood—but where it was no one could as yet tell. Furlo pur- sued hie way to the back entrance of Count Ramo- rino’s abode: the door bad just been burst open by one of the agents of the Minister uf the Interior— and the old miser passed in. He was half inclined lo retreat: be thought there must be eomething wrong in’connexion with Ramorino or his affairs ; but euriusity induced him to pursue hie way. He reached the court-yard juet 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 Jead body P” “ Yes,” replied the man, who was one of tho agents of the Minister of the Interior: “ it is the corpse of the Marchioness di Mirano, who has just sommitted suicide, it is supposed, by throwing her- wif from a window, or else she was making her paoape along the top of the house. But we shall know aif about it presently.” 163 “‘ At all events she is dead,” observed the miser “ And her property ?” . “ All confiscated,” was the reply. The seisure is doubtless made by this time—for some of my comrades have gone about it.” “Well, it is altogether a bad businoss,” said the old man; and he was turning to leave the court yard when some one hastened towurds him and laid bis hand upon his shoulder. It was the Minister of Police; and in a low deep voice he seid, “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. “It matters nothing, Furlo,” rejoined Ramorino earnestly, as he drew the miser a little further aside. “The pictures are here———” “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 wherescever it may be found.” “No one will know whore the pictures are!” ejaculated Ramorino vebemently. “I will screen and protect you !” “T really begin to be afraid, my lord,” rejoined the old man, “that you will find it somewhat difficulé to ecreen and protect yourself. I do not like the business-~I will have nothing to do with it—and I bid your lordship farewell.” Thus speaking, Furlo burried away ; and Ramo- rino seeing his last hope deetruyed, daehed his hand frantically against his forchoad, exclaiming to himself, “ Then 1 am lost! Iam lust !” CHAPTER XXVIII. FLORIBBL AND EDGAR, Ir was in the evening of the day following that night of memorable adventures the recital of which haus occupied so many chapters. Ciprina war 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 4 certain agitation in her manner—a nervous restlessness as she glanced frequently towards the duor, as if she expected some one who did not make his appearance. At lungth the door wa thrown open, and a waiter announced M. Mar. cellin. The young Frenchman was dressed in full evening costume ; and ke looked remarkably handsome. Ir fact it struck Ciprina the instant he stocd in hei presence, that he had never seemed to greator ad- vantage; while on the other hand s similar thought smote the young geptluman in reforenc to the lady herself. It was with a friendly fervour that he grasped her band; he felt that it trembled in bis own:—for an instant be flung a look, ol anxious and earnest scrutiny upon her; and ther conducting her to a seat, he placed himself by hes side. “I could nat get away earlior from the Bogie Embassy,” said. Marcellin. “It wus a splendi entertainment! Of course you kpow thet th Corn Ghaook