The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 380: what you’re looking at

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

878 Alarmed at the dreadful agitation into which her words had thrown her husband, Rose, who, from his uneasy manner and restless nights, had long enter- tained vague impressions, felt them suddenly con- firmed, and she shuddered to think that the father of her child might turn out an assassin. Had she known the truth in all its fearful details, her ee we a could not have been greater. “Heaven have mercy on us!” she involuntarily exclaimed. “ When will my cup of bitterness be full ?” “Tt is nearly drained,” said her husband, taking her by the hand, and pretending not to observe that she shuddered at his touch. “I shall soon possess the means of quitting Europe for ever. In America, far from the haunts of man, we may find that peace denied us here—more, hope again for happiness.” “ Happiness!” she repeated, with a sigh. ** Well, then, content. My fortunes, Rose, are once more on the rise. I hate Europe and its refinements, its hollow friendships, its living lies, its prostituted energies. Better to live apart from nan than be the victim of his treacheries—better rear our children in the ignorance of innocence than the learning of civili- satien and of crime.” “Ah, Richard! if I thought this penitence was real—that this resolution would but last—the hope would heal many a weund—chase away many @ sad regret.” * Tt will, by Heaven!” “And I,” said his wife, “will support thee in the struggle. Patience and resignation shall be my dower; I had no other to bring with me,” she added, with a smile, After this explanation between the ill-ascorted pair, a better understanding seemed to exist between them, for hope pointed to a future. Wilmott encountered Faddle at De Villa’s every evening, but, constant to his resolution, treated him as a perfect stranger. The bad heart of the libertine was gratified at the coldness, amounting to disdain, with which the countess treated him. Indeed, so well acted was the feeling, that Paulo more than once fe- monstrated with her upon the subject. “You absolutely seem to hate the Englishman,” he observed; “thisis folly.” ‘‘You have no great cause to love him,” was the reply; “his continued succegs has nearly broken the bank. Had I been friends with him, what might you not have suspected in your jealous fury *” “Curse him!” muttered the count, between his teeth; “ten thousand francs last night! Should it continue,” he added in a whisper, “ you must lend me your diamonds for a few days, to raise supplies upon.” ‘“‘T shall do nothing of the kind,” replied the lady, coldly. “ What is your rain or’success to me? If I partake not the latter, yon have no right to involve me in the former.” “ Beware!” whispered the ruffian. . “And I bid you beware!” said the countess, mest ing his gaze with a proud look of defiance. *‘ You think THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. , | France, but not to compromise the personal safety of } after a violent - of it. The prefect of police told me, this evening, that the minister of Tascany had been making in- quiries after you.” “After me?” said Paulo, turning deadly pale. “ Fear not,” she said; ‘I am too useful to him yet to be lightly given up. Whilst [ am necessary to the government of Louis Philippe you are safe. But away,” she added; “the tables are filling; go you to your task, and leave me to the fulfilment of mine; both are hateful and degrading.” “ Tasks!” “Ay; you to plunder or be plundered; I to trip the unwary confidence of youth, or flatter the vanity of age, but to betray them both. How many a patriot’s hope and statesman’s scheme have been destroyed by the treachery of woman! We avenge through the weakness of your sex the wrongs in- flicted by its strength.” Italy, at the period of which we write, was the seat of the intrigues which soon after shook Europe to its centre, The lodges of the Illuminats and Young Italy were the laboratories whence issaed the revolu~ tion which the tyranny of Louis Philippe and the despotism of Austria had so long provoked. The countess, from her influence with ber countrymen and her address, wormed herself into their secrets, which, to do her justice, she only partially betrayed, revealing enough to alarm the weak government of those who trusted her; hence her inflaence with Gabriel Delessert, the minister ef police, whv did not | disdain to consult her upon every point touching the threatened movement in Italy. So deep was the hatred which the countess bore to her confederate, the unworthy Paulo, that she beheld with a fiend-like exultation the losses which, night after night, reduced his ill-gotten gains. Quuarrels between him and his partner in the bank were of daily, nay, hourly occurrence, and to sustain his sinking credit he Was obliged to part with his plate, and would have sacrificed her diamonds for the same purpose, had she not placed them beyond his reach. “I cannot understand it,” said Paulo, one morning with his partner; “four hun- dred thousand francs has this accursed Englishman won; nothing that I have ever seen equals his success. Curse the fellow! he plays fairly too; I have watched him as narrowly as a tiger does its prey, and not a sleight-of-hand movement can I detect.” “ But does he never lose?” demanded the countess, | with a quiet :mile. “Yes; but only when he seems tired of winning, and stakion afew paltry hundreds in lieu ef thousands. I’d give half my life to know his secret, I would break the principal tables of Germany and France with it.” «‘ Perhaps.” | “JT tell you lam surel conid. If this night proves as unfortunate as the last, I am a rnined man, unless you consent to lend me your diamonds as a last means to redeem my credit.’’ | I fear you; I did once—but not now. Your wea'th is gone, or soon Will be; for, despite my warning voice, ' ‘you will court ruin to the last, The serpent’s tooth is drawn, its yenom powerless; our compact will soon | be ended,” “ Never, but with life!” “Perhaps not,” she continned; “and if by the sacrifice of mine, I care not how soon, for Il am weary j “ And starve myself, I suppose? Never.” “ Our mutual safety demands it.” “Say rather yours. Was it my fault,” demanded | the countess, “that you set up this fool’s trap, into | which you have fallen yourself? No; I warned you from the first,” “You did,” said Paulo, gloomily. “But I might just as well have preached to the (C(O NAILICE (OKO)