Part 109 (2/2)

”Beware, madam,” said the bravo.

”What, is it poisoned?”

”Saints forbid! We steal no lives. We take them with steel point, not drugs. But 'tis newly ground, and I feared for the signora's white skin.”

”His skin is as white as mine,” said she, with a sudden gleam of pity.

It lasted but a moment. ”But his heart is black as soot. Say, do I not well to remove a traitor that slanders me?”

”The signora will settle that with her confessor. I am but a tool in n.o.ble hands; like my stiletto.”

The princess appeared not to hear the speaker. ”Oh, how I could have loved him; to the death; as now I hate him. Fool! he will learn to trifle with princes; to spurn them and fawn on them and prefer the sc.u.m of the town to them, and make them a by-word.” She looked up; ”why loiter'st thou here? haste thee, revenge me.”

”It is customary to pay half the price beforehand, signora.”

”Ah I forgot; thy revenge is bought. Here is more than half,” and she pushed a bag across the table to him. ”When the blow is struck, come for the rest.”

”You will soon see me again, signora.”

And he retired bowing and sc.r.a.ping.

The princess, burning with jealousy, mortified pride, and dread of exposure (for till she knew Gerard no public stain had fallen on her), sat where he left her, masked, with her arms straight out before her, and the nails of her clenched hand nipping the table.

So sat the fabled sphynx: so sits a tigress.

Yet there crept a chill upon her now that the a.s.sa.s.sin was gone. And moody misgivings heaved within her, precursors of vain remorse. Gerard and Margaret were before their age. This was your true mediaeval. Proud, amorous, vindictive, generous, foolish, cunning, impulsive, unprincipled: and ignorant as dirt.

Power is the curse of such a creature.

Forced to do her own crimes, the weakness of her nerves would have balanced the violence of her pa.s.sions, and her bark been worse than her bite. But power gives a feeble, furious, woman, male instruments. And the effect is as terrible as the combination is unnatural.

In this instance it whetted an a.s.sa.s.sin's dagger for a poor forlorn wretch just meditating suicide.

CHAPTER LXVII

IT happened, two days after the scene I have endeavoured to describe, that Gerard, wandering through one of the meanest streets of Rome, was overtaken by a thunderstorm, and entered a low hostelry. He called for wine, and, the rain continuing, soon drank himself into a half-stupid condition, and dozed with his head on his hands and his hands upon the table.

In course of time the room began to fill and the noise of the rude guests to wake him.

Then it was he became conscious of two figures near him conversing in a low voice.

One was a pardoner. The other by his dress, clean but modest, might have pa.s.sed for a decent tradesman: but the way he had slouched his hat over his brows so as to hide all his face except his beard, showed he was one of those who shun the eye of honest men, and of the law. The pair were driving a bargain in the sin market. And by an arrangement not uncommon at that date, the crime to be forgiven was yet to be committed--under the celestial contract.

He of the slouched hat was complaining of the price pardons had reached.

”If they go up any higher we poor fellows shall be shut out of heaven altogether.”

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