Agnes Vol. 2 — page 170: 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 borrible idea as té the naturo 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 agers of the Minister of the Interior were spring- ing over the wall. Hjaculations of horror burst from tho lips of Edgar and Charles De Vere, aa they beheld a female form lying, like a bhuddled-up heap or shapeless mass of garments, on the pavement, which was stained with blood. But with another glanoe Edgar Marcellin recognised those luxuriant tresses of golden auburn hair; and he cried, “’Tis she! tis the wretched Lucresia ! ” Ramorino raised up that form, at the same timo palling vehement)pfor sdfgical assistance to be sent for. But at the first moment he had well known that 1¢ was too late,—though as a matter of course be affected to be ignorant of the circumstances attending Luorezia’s death. A medical man was guickly 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 quer- Lers in company with the Hardress family; and on earning from a domestic that the young lady was tall sitting up, Charles De Vere penned a few lines which he requested might be given to her at once, but be 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 Kmbassica— ach with a strong and awful impression upon bis nind of the fearful tragedy which had closed the career of Lucresia di Minano. At the very time when the rumour was spread- ing thruugbout the neighbourhood of Ramorino’s private resideoce, that something terrible bed hap- pened there, old Furlo the miser was creeping along ‘he street, having about his person the sum he had izreed to advance upon the security of the pictures. Lle 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 aappened somewhere 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 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 lo retreat: he thought there must be something wrong in connexion with Ramorino or his affairs ; but eurivsity 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 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 Xomeitted suicide, it is supposed, by throwing her- wif from a window, or else sho was making her pacape along the top of the house. But we shall know ail abuut it presently.” 163 “‘ At all events sho 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, i¢ is altogether a bad business,” said the old man; and he was turning to leave the courte yard when some one hastened towurds him and laid his hand upon hie shoulder. It was the Minister of Police; and in a low deep voice he said, “Ah! you are hore, 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 furtber aside. “The pictures are here———” “But the seizure is made by this time at the Mirano mansion,” interjected the old man, “and the confiscation bolde good upon all the property of the deceased Marchioness wheresoever it may be found.” “No one will know whore the pictures are!” ejaculated Ramorino vebemently. “I will screen and protect you !” “TI really begin to be afraid, my lord,” rejoined the old man, “that you will find it somewhat difficult to ecreen and protect yourself. I do not like the business-~J 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 destruyed, dashed his hand frantically against his forchoad, exclaimiag to bimeelf, “ Then 1 am lost! Iam lost !” CHAPTER XXVIII. FLORIBEBL AND EDGAR, It was in the evening of the day following that night of memorable adventures the recital of which haa 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 4 certain agitation in her manner—a nervou: restlessness as she glanced frequently towards the dvor, as if she expeoted some one who did not make his appearance. At lungth the door wat thrown vupen, 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 he: presence, that he had nover seemed to greator ad- vantage; while on the other band a similar thought smote the young gentleman in reforence to the lady herself. It was with a friendly fervour that he grasped her band: be felt that it trembled in his own:—for an instant be flung a look o! anxious and earnest scrutiny upon her; and ther conducting her to a seat, he placed himselt by hey side. “J could nat get away earlior from the Bagi Embassy,” said. Marcellin. “it was a splendi entertainment! Of course you kpow thet thé ECOMICOO® OY .S