Penny Dreadful Multipack Vol. 1 (Illustrated. Annotated. 'Wagner The Wehr-Wolf,' 'Varney The Vampire,' 'The Mysteries of London Vol. 1' + Bonus Features) (Penny Dreadful Multipacks) (58 page)

It was not until they had left
the city some distance behind, that the bright moon showed them a confused mass
of white objects in front; and they were both marveling what the strange and
unknown spectacle could be, when their party was suddenly challenged by the
sentries of an outpost. The leader of the little escort gave the watchword; and
now, as the two females drew nearer to the encampment, the mass of white
objects became more shapely, until, in a few minutes, the pointed tops of the
tents and pavilions stood out in strong relief against the now purple sky.

What could this unusual spectacle
mean? They were still in the dungeons of the inquisition when the alarm, caused
by an approaching army, had circulated through Florence; and the rumor had not
reached their ears. For the first time since the moment of their release they
now hung back, and manifested signs of fear.

“Be not terrified, ladies,” said
the chief of the escort, speaking in excellent Italian; “ye have no cause for
apprehension! Before you spread the innumerable tents of the Ottoman army; and
it is to the presence of this mighty host that ye are indebted for your
freedom.”

“But whither are you taking us?”
inquired Flora, scarcely reassured.

“To the pavilion of his Highness,
Ibrahim-Pasha, the grand vizier of the glorious Sultan Solyman,” answered the
Turk; “and at the hands of that powerful minister ye will receive naught but
honorable and kind treatment.”

“Know you, signor,” inquired
Flora, “if there be in the Ottoman camp a young man who, when a Christian,” she
added, with a profound sigh, “bore the name of Alessandro Francatelli?”

“There is such a young man,”
responded the Turkish messenger; “and you will see him presently.”

“Oh! is it then to him that we
owe our deliverance?” demanded the beauteous maiden, her heart fluttering with
varied emotions at the idea of meeting her brother. “Is he attached to the
person of that mighty man whom you denominate the grand vizier? and shall we
see him in the pavilion of his highness?”

“You will see him in the pavilion
of his highness,” answered the Turk.

“And the grand vizier himself—is
he a good, kind man?” asked Flora. “Is my brother—I mean Alessandro—a favorite
with him?”

“I believe that the mighty
Ibrahim loves no man more than Alessandro Francatelli, lady,” said the Turk,
highly amused by
 
 these
questions which were put to him, although his manner was respectful and calm.

“Then there is a chance that
Alessandro will rise in the service of the sultan?” continued Flora, naturally
anxious to glean all the information she could respecting her brother.

“There is not a more enviable
personage in the imperial service than he whom you style Alessandro
Francatelli.”

“Heaven be thanked that he is so
prosperous, poor boy!” exclaimed the aunt, who had been an attentive listener
to the preceding discourse. “But your grand vizier, signor, must be very
powerful to have a great army at his disposal.”

“The grand vizier, lady,”
returned the Ottoman envoy, “is second only to the sultan, and in him we see a
reflection of the imperial majesty. At a sign from the great and potent Ibrahim
every scimiter throughout this host of twenty thousand men would leap from its
sheath in readiness to strike where and at whom he might choose to order. Nay,
more, lady—he has the power to gather together mighty armies, so numerous that
they would inundate Christendom as with a desolating sea. Allah be thanked!
there is no limit to the power of the mighty Ibrahim so long as he holdeth the
seals of his great office.”

The two females made no further
observation aloud; but they thought profoundly on all that they had just heard.
For in a short time they were to stand in the presence of this puissant chief
whom the Ottomans seemed to worship as a god, and who wielded a power which
placed him on a level with the proudest potentates in the Christian world.

In the meantime the little party
had entered the precincts of the Ottoman encampment, a complete city of tents
and pavilions, ranged in the most admirable order, and with all the regularity
of streets.

A solemn silence prevailed
throughout the camp, interrupted only by the measured pace and the occasional
challenge of sentinels.

At length Flora and her aunt
perceived, in the clear moonlight, a pavilion loftier, larger, and more
magnificent than any they had yet seen. The pinnacle glittered as if it were
tipped with a bright star; the roof was of dazzling whiteness; and the sides
were of dark velvet, richly embroidered with gold. It stood in the midst of a
wide space, the circumjacent tents forming a complete circle about it. Within
this inclosure of tents the sentries were posted at very short intervals; and
instead of walking up and down, they stood motionless as statues, their mighty
scimiters gloaming in the moonlight.

In profound silence did the
little party proceed toward the entrance of the vast pavilion, which the
females had no difficulty in discerning to be the habitation of the potent and
dreaded chief into whose presence they were now repairing.

In front of this splendid tent
floated two large banners, each from the summit of a tall javelin, the head of
which was of burnished gold. One of these enormous flags was green; the other
was blood-red. The first was the sacred standard of the Prophet Mohammed, and
accompanied the grand vizier in his
 
 capacity
of representative and vice-regent of the sultan; and the latter was the banner
which was always planted in front of the pavilion inhabited by the seraskier,
or commander-in-chief of the Ottoman army.

At the entrance of the vast tent
stood four mounted sentinels, horses and men alike so motionless that they seemed
to be as many equestrian statues.

“In a few moments,” whispered the
leader of the little escort to the two females, “you will be in the presence of
the grand vizier, who will receive you alone.”

“And Alessandro Francatelli?”
inquired Flora, in a tone of disappointment, “will he not be there also?”

“Fear not, you shall behold him
shortly,” answered the Turk; and passing behind the mounted sentinels, he drew
aside the velvet curtain, at the same time bidding Flora and her aunt enter the
pavilion.

A blaze of light bursting forth
from the interior of the magnificent tent dazzled and bewildered them, as the
Ottoman gently gushed them onward—for they hung back in vague and groundless
alarm.

The curtain was instantly closed
behind them; and they now found themselves inside the gorgeous abode of the
grand vizier. The pavilion was decorated in the most sumptuous manner. Crystal
chandeliers were suspended to the spars which supported the canvas ceiling; and
the pillars which supported those spars were gilt and inlaid with
mother-of-pearl. Rich sofas placed around the sides—vases, some containing
flowers and others delicious perfumes—tables laden with refreshments of the
most exquisite kind,—in a word, all the evidences of enormous wealth and all
the accessories of luxurious splendor were displayed in this sumptuous abode.

At the further end of the
pavilion was seated an individual, whom, by the intimation they had already
received, and by the magnificence of his attire, Flora and her aunt immediately
knew to be the grand vizier. He soon granted them the opportunity they so
anxiously awaited, and it was not a great while ere they found themselves
completely reassured, and conversing with a freedom which they had hardly hoped
would characterize their interview.

But who can describe the wonder
and amazement which overwhelmed Flora and her aunt, when, in the person of the
grand vizier, was revealed to them the long absent brother and nephew,
Alessandro Francatelli!

It is needless to give in detail
the events which were narrated in their conversation. After a long and
interesting recapitulation of the thrilling events which had attended them thus
far, they turned to that more immediate matter which lay nearest their hearts.

When the Count of Riverola at
length joined the party, the young nobleman, taking Flora’s hand, exclaimed:

“I am anxious to secure this
jewel as soon as possible. Our union may be celebrated privately and without
useless pomp
 
 and ceremony;
a few hours hence may see us allied to part no more. I have a friend in
Florence—Fernand Wagner——”

“And if he be your friend, count,
you cannot possess one more likely to be sincere!” exclaimed the vizier.

“He has, indeed, proved a warm
friend to me,” continued Francisco. “Two days ago I was stretched upon a bed of
sickness—delirious, my mind wandering, and my reason gone——”

“Merciful heavens!” cried Flora,
shuddering from head to foot, and contemplating her intended husband with the
deepest solicitude.

“Yes, I was in a desperate
state,” said the count. “But Wagner came—he breathed words of hope in my ears,
and I recovered rapidly; so rapidly and so completely that I feel not as if I
had ever known indisposition save by name. I was, however, about to observe
that there is an oratory in Signor Wagner’s mansion; and there may the ceremony
be performed. Fernand is, moreover, well acquainted with the language by which
the deaf and dumb communicate their ideas; and through friendship for me he
will break the tidings of my marriage to my sister.”

“Be it as you propose,” said the
grand vizier; then, after a moment’s pause, he added, speaking in a low and
mysterious whisper: “and if you will not shrink from the contact of the
renegade at the altar of God—a renegade in name only, and not in heart—a
renegade to suit his worldly purposes, and not from conviction—then shall I be
present at the ceremony. Yes,” he continued, perceiving that his aunt, his
sister, and the young count surveyed him with mingled pleasure and
amazement—“yes, in a deep disguise I will quit the encampment and enter
Florence, for it would grieve me deeply to be excluded from the solemn scene.”

“Dearest Alessandro—for thus you
will permit me still to call you,” exclaimed his aunt, “your words have made my
happiness complete. Oh! you are still a Christian in heart, thank God!”

“Not for worlds would I that you
should be absent from the ceremony which makes your sister the Countess of
Riverola!” exclaimed Francisco.

The arrangements so happily come
to and so amicably digested, were now to be carried into effect. The expectant
bridegroom accordingly took a temporary leave of the vizier, Flora and the
aunt, and returned to the city to seek his friend Fernand Wagner, it being
understood that those whom he had just left should meet him at that signor’s
mansion by mid-day.

The morning was now breaking: and
every roof top in Florence was crowded with persons anxious to obtain a view of
the encampment, as we have stated at the close of the preceding chapter.

THE MANUSCRIPT

In
 
accordance with the plans
detailed in the preceding chapter, Francisco and Flora, accompanied by the good
dame Francatelli,
 
 and
preceded by a suitable guard, now departed from the gorgeous pavilion of the
grand vizier, on their way to the mansion of Wagner.

On arriving at the walls of the
city, the Ottoman guard left them, and retraced their steps to the Turkish
encampment, while our little party proceeded on its way through the now crowded
streets, and soon arrived at the residence of Wagner.

With many congratulations did
Fernand receive them; and being informed of the purport of their visit,
hastened to acquaint his chaplain of the duties that were required of him; and
before the sun was an hour higher in the heavens, Francisco, Count of Riverola,
and Flora Francatelli were joined together in the indissoluble bonds of
wedlock.

It was now, for the first time
since his recovery, that the recollection of the solemn oath Francisco had made
to his dying father came across his mind—that on that day and that hour in
which he was married, he and his bride should visit the secret chamber: and he
hurriedly told Wagner that it was of the utmost importance that he should be at
the Riverola palace within the hour; and at the same time he requested his kind
friend to accompany him.

On arriving at the Riverola
palace, the party were instantly admitted, notwithstanding that the Turkish
soldiers placed there by the grand vizier still guarded the gates: and
Francisco proceeded alone to his sister’s apartment, where he found her
sitting, busied in conjecturing the cause of her recent detention—for Ibrahim,
on the completion of the marriage ceremony, of which he had been an unseen
observer, had given orders to free her from all restraint on her person.

On perceiving Francisco, Nisida
tenderly embraced him; and by signs he informed her that a person wished to be
admitted to her presence. Having signified her acquiescence, Francisco retired,
and in a few moments returned, leading by the hand his blushing bride, while
Wagner followed, a few paces in the rear.

No sooner had Nisida’s eyes
fallen on the form of Flora, than she started from her seat, her eyes flashing
with concentrated hate, and her haughty lip curled in withering contempt, for
well she guessed the purport of her visit: but the next moment her eyes fell on
the advancing form of her adored Wagner—and those eyes, lit up as with the
fires of hell, lost their demoniac glare in the beams of love which gleamed in
their dark depths; and her lip of scorn was changed into an enchanting smile of
the sweetest welcome—a transition from hate to love, a change of feelings as
well as features of which woman, loving woman, alone is capable—and the next
moment, regardless of the presence of Francisco and Flora, she rushed into the
arms of her long-lost, her adored Wagner.

*****

Nisida was now acquainted with
the marriage of her brother, the secret chamber had been visited, the
manuscript brought forth to be read; but one of the party that but a few
moments before occupied that room was no more—
Fernand Wagner was dead
! True to the letter were the
words of the founder of the
 
 order
of the Rosy Cross, that “the spell which the Evil One hath cast upon thee,
Fernand Wagner, shall be broken only on that day and that hour when thine eyes
shall behold the bleached skeletons of two innocent victims suspended to the
same beam.”

Flora and Francisco had visited
the secret chamber alone, but the scream of horror which came from the bride on
seeing the spectacle which there presented itself to her, brought Wagner and
Nisida to their side. Instantly on seeing the skeletons, the prophecy of
Rosencrux rushed on the mind of Wagner; a complete revolution came over his
whole frame, beautiful visions floated before his eyes, as of angels waiting to
receive him and herald him to eternal glory; then stretching forth his arms, as
if to embrace something immaterial, he fell heavily to the earth, and in a few
moments he had breathed his last in the arms of Nisida.

*****

We will now proceed to the
reading of the manuscript, and pass over a detail of the indescribable agony
that rent the heart of Nisida on seeing her beloved Wagner a corpse, and the
revulsion of her feelings on beholding the loathsome change that came over the
face and form of the once god-like Fernand, a repetition of which would grate
too harshly on the feelings of the reader.

“In order that you, Francisco—and
she who as your bride, shall accompany you on your visit to the secret cabinet
wherein you are destined to find this manuscript—in order, I say, that you may
both fully comprehend the meaning of the strange and frightful spectacle there
prepared to meet your eyes, it is necessary that I should enter into a full and
perfect detail of certain circumstances, the study of which will, I hope, prove
beneficial to the lady whom you may honor with the proud name of Riverola.

“In the year 1494 I visited
Naples on certain pecuniary business, an intimation of which I found amongst
the private papers of my father, who had died about ten months previously. I
was then just one-and-twenty, and had not as yet experienced the influence of
the tender passion. I had found the ladies of Florence so inveterately given to
intrigue, and had seen so many instances in which the best and most
affectionate of husbands were grossly deceived by their wives, that I had not
only conceived an abhorrence at the idea of linking my fortunes with one of my
own countrywomen, but even made a solemn vow that if ever I married, my choice
should not fall upon a Tuscan. It was with such impressions as these that I quitted
Florence on the business to which I have alluded: and I cared not if I never
returned thither—so shallow, heartless, and superficial did its gay society
appear to me.

“On my arrival at Naples I
assumed the name of Cornari, and, representing myself as a young man of humble
birth and moderate fortune, mixed in the best society that would receive
 
 a stranger of such poor
pretensions. I had already learned at Florence that the fair sex are invariably
dazzled by titles and riches; and I had a curiosity to try whether I should be
at all sought after when apparently unpossessed of such qualifications. Not
that I had any serious thoughts of matrimony; for I was far from being so
romantic as to suppose that any beautiful lady of high birth would fall in love
with me so long as I passed for plain Signor Cornari. No; it was merely a whim
of mine—would that I had never undertaken to gratify it.

“I was altogether unattended by
any retinue, having quitted Florence with only a single valet, who died of
sudden illness on the road. Thus did I enter Naples alone, with my package of
necessaries fastened to the saddle of the steed that bore me. I put up at a
small, but respectable hostel; and the first few days of my residence at the
Neapolitan capital were passed in making inquiries concerning the individual
whose large debt to my deceased father had been the principal cause of my
journey thither.

“I found him, at length, but
perceiving that he was totally unable to liquidate the claim upon him, I did
not discover my real name, and took my leave, resolving to think no more of the
matter.

“Returning to the inn, I happened
to pass through one of the most squalid and miserable parts of the city, when
my attention was suddenly fixed upon the most charming female figure I had ever
seen in my life. The object of my interest was respectably but plainly clad;
indeed, she appeared to belong to the class of petty tradespeople. Her form was
most perfect in its symmetry; her gait was peculiarly graceful, and her manners
were evidently modest and reserved: for she looked neither to the right nor to
the left, but pursued her way with all the unobtrusiveness of strict propriety.
I longed to behold her face; and, quickening my steps, presently passed her. I
then had an opportunity of beholding the most beautiful countenance that ever
adorned a woman. Heaven seemed to smile through the mirror of her mild black
eyes; and there was such an indescribable sweetness in the general expression
of her face, that it might have served a limner to copy for the countenance of
an angel! She saw that I gazed intently upon her, and instantly turned aside
into another street; for I should observe that females of the lower orders in
Naples are not permitted to wear veils.

“I stood looking after her until
she was lost to my view; and then I went slowly back to the inn, my mind full
of the image of the beautiful unknown.

“Day after day did I rove through
that same quarter of the city in the hope of meeting her again; and every
evening did I return to my lonely chamber, chagrined and disappointed. My
spirits sank, my appetite fled, and I grew restless and melancholy. At length I
one morning beheld her in the flower-market, and I stood gazing on her with
such enthusiastic, and yet such respectful admiration, that though she turned
away, still methought it was not with a feeling of resentment.

 “I was transfixed to the
spot for some minutes, and it was not until she had disappeared amidst the
crowd gathered in that quarter, that I could so collect my scattered thoughts
as to curse my folly for having omitted such an opportunity of accosting her. I
however inquired of an old woman of whom she had purchased some flowers, who
she was; but all the information I could glean was, that she had recently been
in the habit of buying a few flowers every Wednesday of that same old woman. I
went away more contented than I had felt for many days, because I now felt
certain that I knew where to meet the lovely creature again. Nevertheless,
during the six succeeding days I rambled about the flower market and the
squalid quarter of the city where I had first seen her, but my search was
unsuccessful; and the greater the disappointment I experienced, the more
powerful grew my love. Yes, it was indeed love which I now felt, for the first time,
and for a being to whom I had never spoken—whom I had only seen twice, and on
these occasions only for a few minutes, and whom I knew, by her garb, to belong
to the poorer class. But on the following Wednesday I saw her for the third
time; and when she beheld me standing near the old woman’s flower stall, she
appeared vexed and surprised, and was about to turn away. I however approached
her, besought her to accept of the choicest nosegay which I had been able to
find, and continued to speak to her in so ardent, yet respectful a manner, that
she no longer viewed me with resentment, but with something approaching to
interest. And if I had been charmed by her beauty when as yet I had seen her at
a comparative distance, how enraptured was I now by a nearer contemplation of
that heavenly countenance.

“I assured her that her image had
never been absent from my heart since first I saw her, that I should never know
peace or happiness again until she would give me some hope, and that I would
sooner die than have her construe my words into an insult. She was touched by
the earnestness and evident sincerity of my manner; and, encouraged by her
silence, I proceeded hastily to inform her that my name was Cornari, that I was
a young man of humble birth, but that I possessed a modest competency, and was
my own master. I then pressed her to accept my nosegay; but, suddenly bursting
into tears, she exclaimed—

“‘O, signor, you know not whom
you have thus honored with your notice,’ and hurried away, leaving me
absolutely stupefied with astonishment and grief. It immediately struck me that
she was a lost and degraded creature, who dared not respond to a virtuous love.
But a few moments’ reflection told me that such innocence, such artlessness,
such candor never could be assumed—never feigned; no, they were most natural!
And this conviction, added to the intense curiosity which now inspired me to
fathom the mystery of her singular remark, rendered me more anxious than ever
to meet with her again. Several weeks passed without seeing the gratification
of my wish; and I was becoming seriously ill with disappointment and defeated
hope, when accident led me to encounter
 
 her
once more. She would have avoided me, but I absolutely compelled her to stop.
Seizing her hand, I said,—

“‘Look at me—behold to what I am
reduced—mark these pale and sunken cheeks, and have pity on me!’

“‘And I, too,’ she murmured,
‘have been very miserable since we last met.’

“‘Then you have thought of me?’ I
exclaimed, retaining her hand still in mine, and reading love in the depths of
her large dark eyes.

“‘I have,’ she answered bitterly,
withdrawing her hand at the same time; then in a tone of deep anguish she
added, ‘I implore you to let me proceed on my way; and if you value your own
happiness you will never seek to see me more.’

“‘But my happiness depends on
seeing you often,’ I exclaimed; ‘and if the offer of an honest heart be
acceptable, I have that to give.’

“She shuddered dreadfully from
head to foot.

“‘Surely you are not married
already?’ I said, rendered desperate by her strange and incomprehensible
manner.

“‘I married!’ she absolutely
shrieked forth. Then perceiving that I was perfectly amazed and horrified by
the wild vehemence of her ejaculations, she said in a subdued, melancholy tone,
‘I adjure you to think of me no more.’