Ciprina; or, The Secrets of the Picture Gallery

Chapter I

the splendor of Lucrezia's charms at the entertainment ; but little thought the girl, as she lifted an elegant necklace from the glowing bosom of the Mar chioness, that beneath the alabaster skin upon which the gold had rested, beat a heart blackened with crime, and tortured with the most horrible feelings. " What is that billet tying upon the table !" presently inquired Lucrezia, as her eye now for the first time caught a glimpse of a note on the table. '•It is for your ladyship," replied one of the maidens. THE PICTURE-GALLERY. Although it was the middle of Au tumn, yet in the smiling climate of that delightful land, Italy — that " dimple on the face of earth," as one of our poets quaintly terms it — Summer -still lin gered lovingly, as though loth to quit the enchanting scenes where the trans parent walks, formed by vineyards and olive groves, eternally reflect the pure sapphire of the almost cloudless heavens.

" Give it me, girl. Who placed it there ?" asked Lucrezia, as on glancing at the address, she perceived that it was a handwriting which was strange to her. The incidents we are about to nar rate occurred at this season in one of the most sumptuous palaces in the city of Florence. A large party had been assembled in the gorgeous saloons. No sooner had the guests departed, than the Marchioness di Mirano, for such was the lady's title, retired to her bou doir, accompanied by her two tire women, who began their customary duty of preparing the night toilet of their mistress. One addressed herself to the task of combing out the luxuri ant masses of her hair, the light golden auburn of which seemed to take differ ent hues, or rather to develop diiferent degrees of lustre, as the maiden took up each separate tress and ringlet, and as the light of the lamps poured down upon that superb head.

The other maiden began to unfasten the brilliant gems and jewels which had added to " I do not know, my lady,'' rejoined the damsel, and she glanced inquiringly at her companion. " No — nor I, my lady." said the latter. " But Teresa aud Johanna," she continued, thus alluding to two others of the handmaidens of the establishment, '" arranged the toilet-chamber for the evening, and possibly it might be one of them who placed the billet there." The Marchioness had been about to open the envelope, when she was sud denly struck by the fact that it was one of the kind she was accustomed to use. Another glance, and she was still more deeply struck by recognising the seal which was on the top of a pencil-case CIPRINA. 4 obey the summons, and repair to the place of appointment. Much that may appear mysterious and inexplicable in these details, will be readily understood by those who have read the author's work, entitled " Lu crezia Mirano." lying in the inkstand dish on the bou doir lable.

Had the letter been written within the walls of that boudoir ? If so, who could have penetrated thither? The Marchioness was already in such a frame of mind, that every incident, however trivial, became invested with ini| ortance — every circumstance at all strange seemed fraught with a suspicion. She did not therefore dare open that billet in the presence of her maidens, for fear it might contain some thing to produce an effect upon herself, or tor fear lest the eyes of either one of them should catch a glimpse of its contents. " Let me at all events know the best or the worst with the least possible delay," she murmured to herself: "suspense is intolerable !" As her maidens had begun to disap parel her previous to their abrupt dismissal from the boudoir, a portion of the elegant attire which Lucrezia had worn for the entertainment had been laid aside.

Her hair was in disorder — partly combed out, partly as she had worn it during the evening. She snatched up some light loose species of morning wrapper which she hastily put on ; she beheld a white veil lying near — this she caught up and threw over her head. Then she lighted a small chamber lamp, of exquisite manufacture, and the framework of which was of silver. She was about to pass forth from the boudoir, when a thought struck her. She stopped short — a very peculiar expression seized upon her countenance : it was as isa fiend had suddenly looked forth from the face of an angel ! Deeply ominous — darkly sinister, was that expression ; and she murmured to herself: "Yes — either for defense against treachery — or else to strike down an avowed enemy !" She retreated into the toilet chamber, she opened the very wardrobe, the contents of which had been so recently inspected by Edgar Marcellin, and she unlocked a drawer.

It was, however, one which he had found no occasion to open — and thence Lucrezia di Mirano took forth a dagger. This she concealed amongst her garments ; and taking up the lamp again, she issued forth from the boudoir. " You can retire, maidens," she said adopting the same gentle and kind tone which she was wont to use towards her dependents. " I can dispense with your services for to-night. Go and seek your own chambers." The damsels made a respectful curtsy, and withdrew from the boudoir. But in the passage outside, they ex changed significant looks, as much as to imply that they had no doubt the billet heralded the coming of some lover, whose presence the Marchioness was therefore momentarily expecting. Scarcely had the door of the bou doir closed behind those damsels, when the Marchioness tore open the billet ; and her countenance became deadly pale as her eyes glanced over its con tents.

Not that she recognised the handwriting of Edgar Marcellin ; npt that she even for an instant suspected who the author of the billet might be ! But it was the mystery of the occurrence which thus smote her with dread. What could the billet mean ? who was its wr.ter? Was he friend or foe? — did he purpose to aid her in the midst of the embarrassments which were thickening around her? or was his olject to betray her? Or else, was it some new calamity that was about to tliieaien her V — or might it not be an endeavor on the part of Signor Paoli lo obtain another interview with her ? This idea seemed to be the most probable ; and the Marchioness resolved to In a few minutes the door of the pici ure-gallery was slowly and cautiously opened ; and Lucrezia appeared upou the threshold. She endeavored to plunge her looks along the vista of CIPRINA 5 gloom into the darkness which lay be yond, to discern who might be the individual that was awaiting her ; but she could distinguish no one.

She advanced — but still proceeding cautiously, for fear lest any unknown treachery should suddenly develop itself from the midst of that darkness. She held the lamp in one hand, the other hand was thrust amidst the folds of her garments, clutching the dagger, which she was thus ready to draw forth at any moment. Her form, clothed in that light loose drapery, had the air, as it advanced through the semi-obscurity, of a corpse which had burst the cerements of the tomb, and had come forth to walk the earth again. So deep was the dark ness which prevailed in the long gallery — so comparatively feeble was the light of the small chamber lamp — that the white figure of the Marchioness would indeed have produced this effect upon Edgar, if he had been unprepared for her presence, and if he knew not who she was.

But from his place of con cealment, which was now in the deep shade of the angle made by the projec tion of the chimney, he beheld her ad vancing. She came along the gallery, casting her eyes to the right and to the left — stopping every few moments — looking like Lady Macbeth in her troubled conscience-haunted somnam bulism ! eous presentments were gathering fast around her ; but how deadly cold did the blow seem to strike to her heart — how suddenly was the blood congealed in her veins, when a human voice broke upon the solemn and awful silence which had hitherto prevailed, and which the light footfalls of the Mar chioness could scarcely be said to have broken. It was thus the voice spoke : " One Lucrezia proves the prototype of the other ! Lucrezia Borgia was not more exquisite in beauty, nor more diabolical in heart than Lucrezia Mi rano !

The two Lucrezias shall become equally infamous in the annals of crime. The destiny of one has been long ago fulfilled, that of the other is now in the course of accomplishment !" At first the lamp almost dropped from the hand of the Marchioness, it was literally slipping from between her fingers, when an instinctive dread of darkness in the awful position wherein she found herself placed, made her clutch it again in the twinkling of an eye, and then retain it with a species of spasmodic tenacity. But oh ! what horror fastened itself upon her mind — what consternation seized upon her brain — what mortal dread retained her ashy lips apart — her eyes fixed and wildly staring — her bosom upheaved — her limbs petrified, as if she had in this respect turned into stone ! For it was not merely that she heard a human voice — because she had come thither in the expectation of meeting some one, but it was chiefly because the words that were thus breathed forth, as it were, from the midst of the solemn darkness that prevailed beyond the range of the lamplight, had fir her a terrible signiti cancy.

Yes ! more terrible than the reader can at present comprehend ! — ■ for they were not mere threats, or warnings, or prophetic menaces which now for the first time only met her ears ; but they seemed to be an echo — almost word for word, syllable for syllable — of language which she herself had one At length the Marchioness arrived precisely opposite the place where the portrait of Lucrezia Borgia was sus pended ; and then, as if suddenly recol lecting the fact, she stopped short. It was almost with a species of ghastly terror that she gazed up at that portrait ; and as her hand trembled, the vibration of the rays flung by the lamp, actually gave to the countenance upon the can vas the appearance of animation. It seemed as if the eyes glanced — the lips moved — as if the color was coming and going upon the cheeks — as if the full voluptuous bosom were heaving with respiration.

Vague terrors were seizing upon the Marchioness di Mirano — hid- CIPRINA. night rn her despair breathed on that very spot, and while gazing up at that -very picture ! i And now she beheld a form gradually emerging from the darkness, in the midst of which its voice had been speaking — and it was in consequence of the solemnity assumed by that voice, that Lucrezia had failed to recognise it as one which she had heard before. She stepped back a pace or two as she beheld the form ; she strained her eyes to ascertain whether it were Paoli ; she just beheld enough to convince her that it was not — and then, utterly unable to endure the horrible torture of suspense any longer, she demanded, "In the name of God, who are you ?" The effort with which she put the query, was the result of a sudden summoning of all her fortitude to her aid, under the strong impulse of a feeling bordering on desperation, and now she felt stronger— nay, more, she was gladdened at her own courage, while she was likewise still urged by a sense of the most desperate position.

Her fingers tightened upon the handle of her dagger, and she stepped not back another pace, as the form was now advancing more closely towards her. around her — for it was now a sensation of horror that smote her— not merely horror at the crime itself, but likewise on account of the apprehension that il might by some means be discovered. And then, too, the idea seized upon the Marchioness that the darkness which prevailed all around the small sphere of light which the little chamber lamp gave forth, was peopled with spectres — nameless objects, of unknown yet ghastly shapes — gliding noiselessly there, ready to steal forth and wind their arms about her, or confront her with their horrible presence. As the.-e ideas swept through the brain of Lu crezia Mirano, it suddenly struck her that she actually beheld a pair of eyes looking upon her from the midst of the obscurity.

For an instant she was on the very point of screaming out ; but that cry was hushed upon the brim of her lips, as she perceived that her terror was occasioned by the portrait of Lucrezia Borgia ! " Oh V murmured the Marchioness, with a strong shudder that passed like an ice-chill over her frame, " that picture haunts me ! Accursed be the day when it came into my possession ! From that period date all my miseries — all my crimes !'' The Marchioness averted her looks from the portrait ; she bent them upon the form of the young Frenchman who lay at her feet — she saw that this form was motionless — and she said within herself, "lie is dead ! But now how to dispose of the corpse ?" She stood pondering this subject, still holding the lamp in one hand — the dagger in the other. Suddenly she was startled by a noise resembling a so. it step ; she glanced around — there was another feeble light now burning in the gallery — aud the form that bore it was advancing towards her.

An awful terror seized upon the Marchioness, but the next moment it lost all its supersti tious portion and retained merely its natural ingredient — for she recognised Ciprina ! " You ask me who I am,'' said the voice in response to her adjuration. " Do you not recognise me ? — does not your guilty conscience tell you who I am ? — I am Edgar Marcellin !" " Ah ? then die !" and as the words were still vibrating through the picture gallery, the dagger gleamed in the feeble lamplight across the eyes of Ed gar Marcellin — deep into his breas.t the keen blade penetrated — and down he fell, with only a low brief moan issuing from his lips. A look of fiendish triumph appeared upon the countenance of the Marchion ess — a look which for that brief fleeting space, annihilated all her natural beauty as completely as if a mask of red hot iron had been for a moment applied to her features — so hideous and distorted were they with that look which swept over them !

Then she glanced quickly j " Good heavens, dearest Lucrezia !" CIPRINA, 7 exclaimed the young lady, not immedi ately perceiving the form of the young Frenchman upon the floor, " what is the meaning — ah, my God !" and now Ciprina's eyes caught the first glimpse of that form. elled features completely motidnless.! There stood the Marchioness, now seeming to be of a fearful beauty — the personification of all the worst passions that are known to the human heart ! And there stood Ciprina, in the disha billee of a night-toilet — a wrapper thrown around her form, and loosely confined at the waist with a silken cord, to the extremeties of which tassels were attached. Her long black hair floated over her naked shoulders and down her back ; her eyes, which were wont to be languid in their luminous ness — full of sensuousness in their lustre — were now shining with a terrible brightness, as their gaze was riveted upon the Marchioness.

" I fear not your dagger, Lucrezia, she said, in a tone which showed that the defiance was no vain boasting, " for at the first indication of a movement of your arm, I hurl this lamp violently in your face, and then I send my voice pealing for succor throughout the en tire mansion ! Better deal with me as a friend ! I demand an explanation of everything. If I have misjudged you, heaven knows how rejoiced I shall be to feel that I can conscientiously fall at your feet and demand pardon ! But if, on the other hand — " " He is a villain, Ciprina — and he has perished !" said the Marchioness, in a tone that was alike emphatic and sombre. " Just heaven ! is it possible ? What ! those features ? Ah ! 'tis Edgar ! — yes, 'tis he !" — and Ciprina was at the moment the personification of the most horrified amazement.

" Yes — 'tis Edgar Marcellin," replied the Marchioness — " the murderer of Giulio !" At this instant, an extraordinary incident took place — an occurrence which might well seem to be the result of a pre ternatural impulse. Edgar Marcellin slowly opened his eyes — raised himself half up to a sitting posture on the floor — and murmuring the w7ords, " Lucre zia — murderess — Giulio!" sunk back with a heavy groan, either into the completest unconsciousness or into the embrace of death. Amazement was depicted upon the countenance of Ciprina ; but ghastliest horror was displayed by the features of the Marchioness. A light suddenly seemed to flash in unto the brain of Ciprina ; and pointing down to , the prostrate form of the young Frenchman, she exclaimed as she fixed her large dark eyes upon the Marchioness, " Lu crezia ! he was innocent !"

"Ah, I understand you!" said the Marchioness bitterly ; " if on the other hand you find that I am guilty of the darkest, blackest crimes, you will be tray me !" " No — by heaven !" exclaimed Cip rina, with a start so sudden that it was evident some idea had forcibly smitten her, " I would shield you, Lucrezia ! — I should almost pity you — for I should believe that it was your destiny !" As Ciprina thus spoke, she held up the lamp which she had carried in her hand, so that its light was thrown fully upon the portrait of Lucrezia Borgia ; and though her lips spoke not the words, yet did her looks with unmistak able eloquence imply, " There is the prototype of Lucrezia Mirano !" " Yes, yes — it is, it is my destiny ! ' cried the wretched Marchioness, now '■ Dare not to say that to me, Cip rina !" cried the Marchioness, her countenance expressing the most dia bolical rage, and her entire form quivering with the strongest emotion, while her right hand still clutched the dagger as if she were prepared to do murder's work a second time that night.

It was a scene of wild, solemn, and fearful interest. There lay the now inanimate form of the young French man — the bosom of his shirt presenting a deep sanguine stain — his countenance as pale as marble — his beautifully chis- CIPRINA 8 you have treated me as a sister — and I swear that I will not needlessly injure you ! But I will be obeyed at this crisis ! See ! time is passing — and the traces of this deed have yet to be effaced ! Again I say, assist me in bearing Edgar to my chamber— or I must summon other aid, and then everything must be told !" completely overpowered by her feelings. " You have spoken, Ciprina, with only a too terrible correctness— with only a too fearful accuracy — when you have said that it was my destiny ! Accursed picture !" — and the Marchioness sent the dagger spinning across the gallery towards the portrait of Lucrezia Borgia ; but the weapon merely struck the frame and fell upon the floor.

"Are you mad, Lucrezia?" asked Ciprina, " would you raise the whole mansion by your violence ? Oh, by heaven ! Edgar lives ! Yes, yes — his lips waver !" " He lives ?" said the marchioness, with a shudder. " No — impossible !" " I tell you that he lives," cried Ciprina, " though you wish him dead ! But he shall live — and it is my care to restore him ! Help me, Lucrezia ! — help me, I insist upon it ! Let us con vey him to my chamber — " " What ] resuscitate the serpent that will sting me ?" exclaimed the Mar chioness, with gestures of mingled rage and horror. The Marchioness of Mirano saw that she was now completely in Ciprina's power, and that she must do her bidding. She accordingly made up her mind to leave herself at the mercy and the disposal of her young friend — at least for the present.

Edgar Marcellin was giving renewed signs of life, Ciprina quickly assured herself that the. blood was no longer flowing from the wound in his breast — it had become staunched by the saturated and clotted condition of the shirt-front itself. And now the two ladies, raising the young man between them, bore him out of th . gallery. So soon as the landing wa . reached, they deposited the inanimate form on a mat for a moment, that they might rest their arms ; and Ciprina, locking the door of the picture-gallery, secured the key about her person, saying, " This is to guard against any one entering thither until the traces of bloodshed shall have been wiped away !" Again was Edgar Marcellin lifted between the two ladies ; and they bore him to Ciprina's chamber. There Ciprina at once examined his wound ; she knew not whether it were mortal — but hope was in her heart, inasmuch as the blood had ceased to flow.

For a moment the idea of procuring by some means or another the assistance of a medical man struck the young lady, but she quickly abandoned the project — for she said within herself, " If the wound be mortal, no surgeon can save him ; and if it be curable, all the attentions that I can bestow shall far .trans cend whatsoeverministrations a surgeon might afford !" " By heaven, it shall be as I say !" exclaimed Ciprina, darting across the gallery and snatching up the dagger from behind the chair where it had fallen. At the same instant she caught sight of certain objects which were about to arrest her attention still more completely, when recollecting there were other matters of far more importance to be attended to, she returned towards the Marchioness, saying, " I am now the mistress here ! — it is for me to command and for you to obey !

Do my bidding, and I swear that your crime shall be concealed ! Yes — I will pledge my own existence — " " But if he lives ?"— and the Marchioness pointed towards Edgar. " Oh, if he lives," responded Ciprina, "I will stake my existence — I will pledge my very soul if possible— that he shall in gratitude do my bidding in all things ! Lucrezia," she added, m a suddenly altering tone, " I owe you much — I have eaten your bread— I have found an asylum beneath your roof — " Tell me, Ciprina," said the. Mar chioness, after the young lady had be stowed such immediate attentions as CIPRINA. 9 she deemed requisite, while Edgar was again displaying signs of resuscitation, — " tell me, Ciprina, what made you come to me in the gallery at that mo ment ?" The Marchioness was now terribly excited ; her bosom of snowy whiteness was heaving tumultuously — there was a wild sinister light in her blue eyes — - and with her exquisitely modelled hand she nervously tossed back the tresses of light golden auburn which strayed over her naked shoulders, aud that bosom wliich was swelling like the billows of the ocean.

" Oh, the explanation is brief and and easily given !" replied the young lady. " I beheld in the incident of the purse something more than you thought fit to avow; your hand, as I placed that purse in it, was as cold as death. I was uneasy on your account. When the guests had departed, you volunteered no explanations. My uneasiness in creased — until at length it became intolerable. I resolved to seek you in your apartments, and implore that in the name of friendship you would en trust me with your secret, if anything unpleasant had occurred. You were not in your rooms — I knew not what to think — your maids had evidently been dismissed for the night — and you were not there ! I was affrighted — I was full of perplexity — when I beheld a billet upon the carpet — " " Ah !" ejaculated the Marchioness, '• that note — " " For heaven's sake tranquillize yourself!" said Ciprina, " or the house hold will become alarmed !

I will ask you no more questions now — indeed I will never more trouble you with any, if you will only do my biuding and follow the friendly counsel which I shall give you ! See, Lucrezia ! you will not at least have the crime of his death upon your conscience !" — and she pointed to Marcellin. " He lives ! — he will live ! Oh, yes ! the hope is strong in my mind !"• " And you answer for him, Ciprina ?" said the Marchioness, in a deep hollow voice ; " you pledge yourself for my safety ?" You promise that he shall not stand forth as my accuser?" " Oh, yes — I promise !" cried Ciprina. " But now, 1 beseech you, retire to your chamber — " " And the blood — the blood, Ciprina, in the gallery?" said the Marchioness, still speaking in a voice so changed from its natural intonation that no one who heard it without seeing the speaker could possibly believe that it was actu ally the voice of Lucrezia Mirano.

" Leave everything to me," answered Ciprina. " Come, Lucrezia !" " Oh, that name ! that horrible name ! ' ejaculated the Marchioness, with a shudder. " And that portrait !" she continued, her countenance now as white as a sheet, and her eyes glaring with wild horror ; " never, Ciprina, can I again look upon that picture ! No — it would drive me mad ! There seems to be a horrible fatality in the fact that it ever came into my possession ! It must be destroyed — or sent away — " " Leave this likewise to me," inter rupted Ciprina, " it shall be removed "Yes — it is here," and Ciprina handed the billet. " Now you compre hend how it was that I found my way to the picture-gallery. But you, Lucre zia — oh ! you must have explanations to give me ? One part of the revela tions you have thus to make, seems to be fathomable by means of conjecture.

Yes — methinks lean read that mystery ! Tell me, Lucrezia — tell me — did not Edgar Marcellin come to accuse you of the deed with which you charged him ?" " Oh, Ciprina ! I shudder," said the Marcnioness with vehemence and bit terness — " I shudder to the utmost confines of my being when you address me by my name — when you call me Lucrezia! Fatal name! horrible asso ciation with an inevitable destiny ! Good heavens, Ciprina ! is it possible that I have become all which I so dreaded to be ? Tell me, is it a dream ? or was Lucrezia Borgia verily the pro totype in mind as well as in form of Lucrezia Mirano ?" CIPRINA. son, she muttered to herself, " With all her display of emotion, that fiend in human shape might take it into her head to steal back hither and complete from the gallery to-morrow morning.

To this I pledge myself! But even that proceeding must be conducted with discretion — the least circumstance may now engender sinister ideas and sus picions — " her hideous work ! ' Ciprina retraced her way towards the picture-gallery. All continued pro foundly silent throughout the mansion ; and the numerous domestics who were cradled in the arms of slumber, little suspected what scenes were taken place within those walls. On entering the picture-gallery, Ciprina's first care was to sponge away the traces of blood ; and this was speedily accomplished by means of the powerful essence which the young lady had brought with her. Besides, "the wound had poured forth but little blood upon the floor, for the greater portion of the sanguine tide had been absorbed by the cambric forming the bosom of the shirt.

And now Ciprina proceeded towards the screen, which, as the reader will remember, had in the first instance, served as Edgar's hiding place in the picture-gallery ; and behind a chair in the neighborhood of that screen, Ciprina picked up a pistol and a bundle of raiment. These were the objects which her eye had encountered when she possessed herself of the dagger, and on which she was unable at the time to bestow aught more than a passing notice. Taking the pistol and the bun dle with her, Ciprina returned to her own chamber, where she found the patient was still plunged in a deep, lethargic slumber. She proceeded to unroll the packet of garments which she had brought with her from the picture-gallery, and she perceived that it was a complete male costume. While she was contem plating it — wondering whether it could belong to Edgar Marcellin, and if so, why he should have brought it thither — the idea gradually stole into her mind that the suit was too small for him.