Authors: James Fenimore Cooper
The officer glanced another look around the room, more, however, through
habitual caution than any other reason, bowed, and departed.
A profound and sorrowful silence succeeded. Then the apprehension that
Don Camillo might mistake their situation and appear, flashed upon the
mind of Violetta, and she hastened to apprise him of the danger, by
speaking to the new attendant.
"Thou hast served before this, Annina?" she asked, so loud as to permit
the words to be heard in the oratory.
"Never a lady so beautiful and illustrious, Signora. But I hope to make
myself agreeable to one that I hear is kind to all around her."
"Thou art not new to the flattery of thy class; go then, and acquaint my
ancient attendants with this sudden resolution, that I may not
disappoint the council by tardiness. I commit all to thy care, Annina,
since thou knowest the pleasure of my guardians—those without will
furnish the means."
The girl lingered, and her watchful observers noted suspicion and
hesitation in her reluctant manner of compliance. She obeyed, however,
leaving the room with the domestic Donna Violetta summoned from the
antechamber. The instant the door was closed behind her, Don Camillo was
in the group, and the whole four stood regarding each other in a common
panic.
"Canst thou still hesitate, father?" demanded the lover.
"Not a moment, my son, did I see the means of accomplishing flight."
"How! Thou wilt not then desert me!" exclaimed Violetta, kissing his
hands in joy. "Nor thou, my second mother!"
"Neither," answered the governess, who possessed intuitive means of
comprehending the resolutions of the monk; "we will go with thee, love,
to the Castle of St. Agata, or to the dungeon of St. Mark."
"Virtuous and sainted Florinda, receive my thanks!" cried the reprieved
Violetta, clasping her hands on her bosom, with an emotion in which
piety and gratitude were mingled. "Camillo, we await thy guidance."
"Refrain," observed the monk; "a footstep—thy concealment."
Don Camillo was scarce hid from view when Annina reappeared. She had the
same suspicious manner of glancing her eye around, as the official, and
it would seem, by the idle question she put, that her entrance had some
other object than the mere pretence which she made of consulting her new
mistress's humor in the color of a robe.
"Do as thou wilt, girl," said Violetta, with impatience; "thou knowest
the place of my intended retirement, and can'st judge of the fitness of
my attire. Hasten thy preparations, that I be not the cause of delay.
Enrico, attend my new maid to the wardrobe."
Annina reluctantly withdrew, for she was far too much practised in wiles
not to distrust this unexpected compliance with the will of the council,
or not to perceive that she was admitted with displeasure to the
discharge of her new duties. As the faithful domestic of Donna Violetta
kept at her side, she was fain, however, to submit, and suffered herself
to be led a few steps from the door. Suddenly pretending to recollect a
new question, she returned with so much rapidity as to be again in the
room before Enrico could anticipate the intention.
"Daughter, complete thy errands, and forbear to interrupt our privacy,"
said the monk, sternly. "I am about to confess this penitent, who may
pine long for the consolations of the holy office ere we meet again. If
thou hast not aught urgent, withdraw, ere thou seriously givest offence
to the church."
The severity of the Carmelite's tone, and the commanding, though subdued
gleaming of his eye, had the effect to awe the girl. Quailing before his
look, and in truth startled at the risk she ran in offending against
opinions so deeply seated in the minds of all, and from which her own
superstitious habits were far from free, she muttered a few words of
apology, and finally withdrew. There was another uneasy and suspicious
glance thrown around her, however, before the door was closed. When they
were once more alone, the monk motioned for silence to the impetuous Don
Camillo, who could scarce restrain his impatience until the intruder
departed.
"Son, be prudent," he said; "we are in the midst of treachery; in this
unhappy city none know in whom they can confide."
"I think we are sure of Enrico," said the Donna Florinda, though the
very doubts she affected not to feel lingered in the tones of her voice.
"It matters not, daughter. He is ignorant of the presence of Don
Camillo, and in that we are safe. Duke of Sant' Agata, if you can
deliver us from these toils we will accompany you."
A cry of joy was near bursting from the lips of Violetta; but obedient
to the eye of the monk, she turned to her lover, as if to learn his
decision. The expression of Don Camillo's face was the pledge of his
assent. Without speaking, he wrote hastily, with a pencil, a few words
on the envelope of a letter, and inclosing a piece of coin in its folds,
he moved with a cautious step to the balcony. A signal was given, and
all awaited in breathless silence the answer. Presently they heard the
wash of the water caused by the movement of a gondola beneath the
window. Stepping forward again, Don Camillo dropped the paper with such
precision that he distinctly heard the fall of the coin in the bottom of
the boat. The gondolier scarce raised his eyes to the balcony, but
commencing an air much used on the canals, he swept onward, like one
whose duty called for no haste.
"That has succeeded!" said Don Camillo, when he heard the song of Gino.
"In an hour my agent will have secured the felucca, and all now depends
on our own means of quitting the palace unobserved. My people will await
us shortly, and perhaps 'twould be well to trust openly to our speed in
gaining the Adriatic."
"There is a solemn and necessary duty to perform," observed the monk;
"daughters, withdraw to your rooms, and occupy yourselves with the
preparation necessary for your flight, which may readily be made to
appear as intended to meet the Senate's pleasure. In a few minutes I
shall summon you hither again."
Wondering, but obedient, the females withdrew. The Carmelite then made a
brief but clear explanation of his intention. Don Camillo listened
eagerly, and when the other had done speaking they retired together into
the oratory. Fifteen minutes had not passed, before the monk reappeared,
alone, and touched the bell which communicated with the closet of
Violetta. Donna Florinda and her pupil were quickly in the room.
"Prepare thy mind for the confessional," said the priest, placing
himself with grave dignity in that chair which he habitually used when
listening to the self-accusations and failings of his spiritual child.
The brow of Violetta paled and flushed again, as if there lay a heavy
sin on her conscience. She turned an imploring look on her maternal
monitor, in whose mild features she met an encouraging smile, and then
with a beating heart, though ill-collected for the solemn duty, but with
a decision that the occasion required, she knelt on the cushion at the
feet of the monk.
The murmured language of Donna Violetta was audible to none but him for
whose paternal ear it was intended, and that dread Being whose just
anger it was hoped it might lessen. But Don Camillo gazed, through the
half-opened door of the chapel, on the kneeling form, the clasped hands,
and the uplifted countenance of the beautiful penitent. As she proceeded
with the acknowledgment of her errors, the flush on her cheek deepened,
and a pious excitement kindled in those eyes which he had so lately seen
glowing with a very different passion. The ingenuous and disciplined
soul of Violetta was not so quickly disburdened of its load of sin as
that of the more practised mind of the Lord of Sant' Agata. The latter
fancied that he could trace in the movement of her lips the sound of his
own name, and a dozen times during the confession he thought he could
even comprehend sentences of which he himself was the subject. Twice the
good father smiled involuntarily, and at each indiscretion he laid a
hand in affection on the bared head of the suppliant. But Violetta
ceased to speak, and the absolution was pronounced with a fervor that
the remarkable circumstances in which they all stood did not fail to
heighten.
When this portion of his duty was ended, the Carmelite entered the
oratory. With steady hands he lighted the candles of the altar, and made
the other dispositions for the mass. During this interval Don Camillo
was at the side of his mistress, whispering with the warmth of a
triumphant and happy lover. The governess stood near the door, watching
for the sound of footsteps in the antechamber. The monk then advanced to
the entrance of the little chapel, and was about to speak, when a
hurried step from Donna Florinda arrested his words. Don Camillo had
just time to conceal his person within the drapery of a window, before
the door opened and Annina entered.
When the preparations of the altar and the solemn countenance of the
priest first met her eye, the girl recoiled with the air of one rebuked.
But rallying her thoughts, with that readiness which had gained her the
employment she filled, she crossed herself reverently, and took a place
apart, like one who, while she knew her station, wished to participate
in the mysteries of the holy office.
"Daughter, none who commence this mass with us, can quit the presence
ere it be completed,", observed the monk.
"Father, it is my duty to be near the person of my mistress, and it is a
happiness to be near it on the occasion of this early matin."
The monk was embarrassed. He looked from one to the other, in
indecision, and was about to frame some pretence to get rid of the
intruder, when Don Cainillo appeared in the middle of the room.
"Reverend monk, proceed," he said; "'tis but another witness of my
happiness."
While speaking, the noble touched the handle of his sword significantly
with a finger, and cast a look at the half petrified Annina, which
effectually controlled the exclamation that was about to escape her. The
monk appeared to understand the terms of this silent compact, for with a
deep voice he commenced the offices of the mass. The singularity of
their situation, the important results of the act in which they were
engaged, the impressive dignity of the Carmelite, and the imminent
hazard which they all ran of exposure, together with the certainty of
punishment for their daring to thwart the will of Venice, if betrayed,
caused a deeper feeling than that which usually pervades a marriage
ceremony, to preside at nuptials thus celebrated. The youthful Violetta
trembled at every intonation of the solemn voice of the monk, and
towards the close she leaned in helplessness on the arm of the man to
whom she had just plighted her vows. The eye of the Carmelite kindled as
he proceeded with the office, however; and long ere he had done, he had
obtained such a command over the feelings of even Annina as to hold her
mercenary spirit in awe. The final union was pronounced, and the
benediction given.
"Maria, of pure memory, watch over thy happiness, daughter!" said the
monk, for the first time in his life saluting the fair brow of the
weeping bride. "Duke of Sant' Agata, may thy patron hear thy prayers, as
thou provest kind to this innocent and confiding child!"
"Amen!—Ha!—we are not too soon united, my Violetta; I hear the sound
of oars."
A glance from the balcony assured him of the truth of his words, and
rendered it apparent that it had now become necessary to take the most
decided step of all. A six-oared gondola, of a size suited to endure
the waves of the Adriatic at that mild season, and with a pavilion of
fit dimensions, stopped at the water-gate of the palace.
"I wonder at this boldness!" exclaimed Don Camillo. "There must be no
delay, lest some spy of the Republic apprise the police. Away, dearest
Violetta—away, Donna Florinda! Father, away!"
The governess and her charge passed swiftly into the inner rooms. In a
minute they returned bearing the caskets of Donna Violetta, and a
sufficient supply of necessaries for a short voyage. The instant they
reappeared, all was ready; for Don Camillo had long held himself
prepared for this decisive moment, and the self-denying Carmelite had
little need of superfluities. It was no moment for unnecessary
explanation or trivial objections.
"Our hope is in celerity," said Don Camillo. "Secresy is impossible."
He was still speaking, when the monk led the way from the room. Donna
Florinda and the half-breathless Violetta followed; Don Camillo drew the
arm of Annina under his own, and in a low voice bid her, at her peril,
refuse to obey.
The long suite of outer rooms was passed without meeting a single
observer of the extraordinary movement. But when the fugitive entered
the great hall that communicated with the principal stairs, they found
themselves in the centre of a dozen menials of both sexes.
"Place," cried the Duke of Sant' Agata, whose person and voice were
alike unknown to them. "Your mistress will breathe the air of the
canals."
Wonder and curiosity were alive in every countenance, but suspicion and
eager attention were uppermost in the features of many. The foot of
Donna Violetta had scarcely touched the pavement of the lower hall, when
several menials glided down the flight and quitted the palace by its
different outlets. Each sought those who engaged him in the service.
One flew along the narrow streets of the islands, to the residence of
the Signor Gradenigo; another sought his son; and one, ignorant of the
person of him he served, actually searched an agent of Don Camillo, to
impart a circumstance in which that noble was himself so conspicuous an
actor. To such a pass of corruption had double-dealing and mystery
reduced the household of the fairest and richest in Venice! The gondola
lay at the marble steps of the water gate, held against the stones by
two of its crew. Don Camillo saw at a glance that the masked gondoliers
had neglected none of the precautions he had prescribed, and he inwardly
commended their punctuality. Each wore a short rapier at his girdle, and
he fancied he could trace beneath the folds of their garments evidence
of the presence of the clumsy fire-arms in use at that period. These
observations were made while the Carmelite and Violetta entered the
boat. Donna Florinda followed, and Annina was about to imitate her
example, when she was arrested by the arm of Don Camillo.