Thomas Bulfinch - "The Age of Chivalry"

Agatha Armour - "Marguerite Verne"

John Greenleaf Whittier - "Narrative and Legendary Poems: Bay of Seven Islands and Others"

John Milton - "The Poetical Works of John Milton"

A Sicilian Romance

A >> Ann Radcliffe >> A Sicilian Romance




At these words every nerve of Ferdinand thrilled; he let go the
marquis's hand and started back. 'Look not so fiercely on me,' said
the marquis, in a hollow voice; 'your eyes strike death to my soul; my
conscience needs not this additional pang.'--'My mother!' exclaimed
Ferdinand--'my mother! Speak, tell me.'--'I have no breath,' said the
marquis. 'Oh!--Take these keys--the south tower--the trapdoor.--'Tis
possible--Oh!--'

The marquis made a sudden spring upwards, and fell lifeless on the
bed; the attendants were called in, but he was gone for ever. His last
words struck with the force of lightning upon the mind of Ferdinand;
they seemed to say that his mother might yet exist. He took the keys,
and ordering some of the servants to follow, hastened to the southern
building; he proceeded to the tower, and the trapdoor beneath the
stair-case was lifted. They all descended into a dark passage, which
conducted them through several intricacies to the door of the cell.
Ferdinand, in trembling horrible expectation, applied the key; the
door opened, and he entered; but what was his surprize when he found
no person in the cell! He concluded that he had mistaken the place,
and quitted it for further search; but having followed the windings of
the passage, by which he entered, without discovering any other door,
he returned to a more exact examination of the cell. He now observed
the door, which led to the cavern, and he entered upon the avenue, but
no person was found there and no voice answered to his call. Having
reached the door of the cavern, which was fastened, he returned lost
in grief, and meditating upon the last words of the marquis. He now
thought that he had mistaken their import, and that the words ''tis
possible,' were not meant to apply to the life of the marchioness, he
concluded, that the murder had been committed at a distant period; and
he resolved, therefore, to have the ground of the cell dug up, and the
remains of his mother sought for.

When the first violence of the emotions excited by the late scenes was
subsided, he enquired concerning Maria de Vellorno.

It appeared that on the day preceding this horrid transaction, the
marquis had passed some hours in her apartment; that they were heard
in loud dispute;--that the passion of the marquis grew high;--that he
upbraided her with her past conduct, and threatened her with a formal
separation. When the marquis quitted her, she was heard walking quick
through the room, in a passion of tears; she often suddenly stopped in
vehement but incoherent exclamation; and at last threw herself on the
floor, and was for some time entirely still. Here her woman found her,
upon whose entrance she arose hastily, and reproved her for appearing
uncalled. After this she remained silent and sullen.

She descended to supper, where the marquis met her alone at table.
Little was said during the repast, at the conclusion of which the
servants were dismissed; and it was believed that during the interval
between supper, and the hour of repose, Maria de Vellorno contrived to
mingle poison with the wine of the marquis. How she had procured this
poison was never discovered.

She retired early to her chamber; and her woman observing that she
appeared much agitated, inquired if she was ill? To this she returned
a short answer in the negative, and her woman was soon afterwards
dismissed. But she had hardly shut the door of the room when she heard
her lady's voice recalling her. She returned, and received some
trifling order, and observed that Maria looked uncommonly pale; there
was besides a wildness in her eyes which frightened her, but she did
not dare to ask any questions. She again quitted the room, and had
only reached the extremity of the gallery when her mistress's bell
rang. She hastened back, Maria enquired if the marquis was gone to
bed, and if all was quiet? Being answered in the affirmative, she
replied, 'This is a still hour and a dark one!--Good night!'

Her woman having once more left the room, stopped at the door to
listen, but all within remaining silent, she retired to rest.

It is probable that Maria perpetrated the fatal act soon after the
dismission of her woman; for when she was found, two hours afterwards,
she appeared to have been dead for some time. On examination a wound
was discovered on her left side, which had doubtless penetrated to the
heart, from the suddenness of her death, and from the effusion of
blood which had followed.

These terrible events so deeply affected Emilia that she was confined
to her bed by a dangerous illness. Ferdinand struggled against the
shock with manly fortitude. But amid all the tumult of the present
scenes, his uncertainty concerning Julia, whom he had left in the
hands of banditti, and whom he had been withheld from seeking or
rescuing, formed, perhaps, the most affecting part of his distress.

The late Marquis de Mazzini, and Maria de Vellorno, were interred with
the honor due to their rank in the church of the convent of St Nicolo.
Their lives exhibited a boundless indulgence of violent and luxurious
passions, and their deaths marked the consequences of such indulgence,
and held forth to mankind a singular instance of divine vengeance.



CHAPTER XVI

In turning up the ground of the cell, it was discovered that it
communicated with the dungeon in which Ferdinand had been confined,
and where he had heard those groans which had occasioned him so much
terror.

The story which the marquis formerly related to his son, concerning
the southern buildings, it was now evident was fabricated for the
purpose of concealing the imprisonment of the marchioness. In the
choice of his subject, he certainly discovered some art; for the
circumstance related was calculated, by impressing terror, to prevent
farther enquiry into the recesses of these buildings. It served, also,
to explain, by supernatural evidence, the cause of those sounds, and
of that appearance which had been there observed, but which were, in
reality, occasioned only by the marquis.

The event of the examination in the cell threw Ferdinand into new
perplexity. The marquis had confessed that he poisoned his wife--yet
her remains were not to be found; and the place which he signified to
be that of her confinement, bore no vestige of her having been there.
There appeared no way by which she could have escaped from her prison;
for both the door which opened upon the cell, and that which
terminated the avenue beyond, were fastened when tried by Ferdinand.

But the young marquis had no time for useless speculation--serious
duties called upon him. He believed that Julia was still in the power
of banditti; and, on the conclusion of his father's funeral, he set
forward himself to Palermo, to give information of the abode of the
robbers, and to repair with the officers of justice, accompanied by a
party of his own people, to the rescue of his sister. On his arrival
at Palermo he was informed, that a banditti, whose retreat had been
among the ruins of a monastery, situated in the forest of Marentino,
was already discovered; that their abode had been searched, and
themselves secured for examples of public justice--but that no captive
lady had been found amongst them. This latter intelligence excited in
Ferdinand a very serious distress, and he was wholly unable to
conjecture her fate. He obtained leave, however, to interrogate those
of the robbers, who were imprisoned at Palermo, but could draw from
them no satisfactory or certain information.

At length he quitted Palermo for the forest of Marentino, thinking it
possible that Julia might be heard of in its neighbourhood. He
travelled on in melancholy and dejection, and evening overtook him
long before he reached the place of his destination. The night came on
heavily in clouds, and a violent storm of wind and rain arose. The
road lay through a wild and rocky country, and Ferdinand could obtain
no shelter. His attendants offered him their cloaks, but he refused to
expose a servant to the hardship he would not himself endure. He
travelled for some miles in a heavy rain; and the wind, which howled
mournfully among the rocks, and whose solemn pauses were filled by the
distant roarings of the sea, heightened the desolation of the scene.
At length he discerned, amid the darkness from afar, a red light
waving in the wind: it varied with the blast, but never totally
disappeared. He pushed his horse into a gallop, and made towards it.

The flame continued to direct his course; and on a nearer approach, he
perceived, by the red reflection of its fires, streaming a long
radiance upon the waters beneath--a lighthouse situated upon a point
of rock which overhung the sea. He knocked for admittance, and the
door was opened by an old man, who bade him welcome.

Within appeared a cheerful blazing fire, round which were seated
several persons, who seemed like himself to have sought shelter from
the tempest of the night. The sight of the fire cheered him, and he
advanced towards it, when a sudden scream seized his attention; the
company rose up in confusion, and in the same instant he discovered
Julia and Hippolitus. The joy of that moment is not to be described,
but his attention was quickly called off from his own situation to
that of a lady, who during the general transport had fainted. His
sensations on learning she was his mother cannot be described.

She revived. 'My son!' said she, in a languid voice, as she pressed
him to her heart. 'Great God, I am recompensed! Surely this moment may
repay a life of misery!' He could only receive her caresses in
silence; but the sudden tears which started in his eyes spoke a
language too expressive to be misunderstood.

When the first emotion of the scene was passed, Julia enquired by what
means Ferdinand had come to this spot. He answered her generally, and
avoided for the present entering upon the affecting subject of the
late events at the castle of Mazzini. Julia related the history of her
adventures since she parted with her brother. In her narration, it
appeared that Hippolitus, who was taken by the Duke de Luovo at the
mouth of the cave, had afterwards escaped, and returned to the cavern
in search of Julia. The low recess in the rock, through which Julia
had passed, he perceived by the light of his flambeau. He penetrated
to the cavern beyond, and from thence to the prison of the
marchioness. No colour of language can paint the scene which followed;
it is sufficient to say that the whole party agreed to quit the cell
at the return of night. But this being a night on which it was known
the marquis would visit the prison, they agreed to defer their
departure till after his appearance, and thus elude the danger to be
expected from an early discovery of the escape of the marchioness.

At the sound of footsteps above, Hippolitus and Julia had secreted
themselves in the avenue; and immediately on the marquis's departure
they all repaired to the cavern, leaving, in the hurry of their
flight, untouched the poisonous food he had brought. Having escaped
from thence they proceeded to a neighbouring village, where horses
were procured to carry them towards Palermo. Here, after a tedious
journey, they arrived, in the design of embarking for Italy. Contrary
winds had detained them till the day on which Ferdinand left that
city, when, apprehensive and weary of delay, they hired a small
vessel, and determined to brave the winds. They had soon reason to
repent their temerity; for the vessel had not been long at sea when
the storm arose, which threw them back upon the shores of Sicily, and
brought them to the lighthouse, where they were discovered by
Ferdinand.

On the following morning Ferdinand returned with his friends to
Palermo, where he first disclosed the late fatal events of the castle.
They now settled their future plans; and Ferdinand hastened to the
castle of Mazzini to fetch Emilia, and to give orders for the removal
of his household to his palace at Naples, where he designed to fix his
future residence. The distress of Emilia, whom he found recovered from
her indisposition, yielded to joy and wonder, when she heard of the
existence of her mother, and the safety of her sister. She departed
with Ferdinand for Palermo, where her friends awaited her, and where
the joy of the meeting was considerably heightened by the appearance
of Madame de Menon, for whom the marchioness had dispatched a
messenger to St Augustin's. Madame had quitted the abbey for another
convent, to which, however, the messenger was directed. This happy
party now embarked for Naples.

From this period the castle of Mazzini, which had been the theatre of
a dreadful catastrophe; and whose scenes would have revived in the
minds of the chief personages connected with it, painful and shocking
reflections--was abandoned.

On their arrival at Naples, Ferdinand presented to the king a clear
and satisfactory account of the late events at the castle, in
consequence of which the marchioness was confirmed in her rank, and
Ferdinand was received as the sixth Marquis de Mazzini.

The marchioness, thus restored to the world, and to happiness, resided
with her children in the palace at Naples, where, after time had
somewhat mellowed the remembrance of the late calamity, the nuptials
of Hippolitus and Julia were celebrated. The recollection of the
difficulties they had encountered, and of the distress they had
endured for each other, now served only to heighten by contrast the
happiness of the present period.

Ferdinand soon after accepted a command in the Neapolitan army; and
amidst the many heroes of that warlike and turbulent age,
distinguished himself for his valour and ability. The occupations of
war engaged his mind, while his heart was solicitous in promoting the
happiness of his family.

Madame de Menon, whose generous attachment to the marchioness had been
fully proved, found in the restoration of her friend a living witness
of her marriage, and thus recovered those estates which had been
unjustly withheld from her. But the marchioness and her family,
grateful to her friendship, and attached to her virtues, prevailed
upon her to spend the remainder of her life at the palace of Mazzini.

Emilia, wholly attached to her family, continued to reside with the
marchioness, who saw her race renewed in the children of Hippolitus
and Julia. Thus surrounded by her children and friends, and engaged in
forming the minds of the infant generation, she seemed to forget that
she had ever been otherwise than happy.

* * * * *

Here the manuscript annals conclude. In reviewing this story, we
perceive a singular and striking instance of moral retribution. We
learn, also, that those who do only THAT WHICH IS RIGHT, endure
nothing in misfortune but a trial of their virtue, and from trials
well endured derive the surest claim to the protection of heaven.

FINIS

[Transcriber's Note: Some words which appear to be typos are printed
thus in the original book. A list of these possible words follows:
cioset, skriek, ladyrinth, and bad (presumably for bade, "he bad
Julia good-night"). In addition, the book contains (and I have
retained) inconsistant spelling of both common words (e.g. extacy,
exstacy) and proper nouns (Farrini, Ferrini). I have used the
_underscore_ notation to indicate italics. (The text in CAPITALS is
printed as it appears in the original book). Finally, the line of
spaced asterisks, was used to indicate an additional blank line
seperating sections of the text.]

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