Volume II Part 63 (1/2)
Leonora, with a loud shriek, covered her face; but the lover, though far from satisfied himself, strove to a.s.sure his mistress, and besought her not to indulge any apprehension.
”You are disturbed, lady,” said the artist. ”'Tis but a harmless piece of earth, a mouldering fabric of dust, a thing, a form we must all one day a.s.sume. But to-morrow, to-morrow, if you will, we resume our work.”
Leonora, relieved by the intimation, gladly consented, fain for a while to escape from this terrible chamber.
”Nought living was there, of a truth,” said the cavalier, in evident perplexity, as they regained their coach. ”But I saw plain enough, or imagination played me the prank, a semblance of a bright and flas.h.i.+ng eye on the spot pointed out. Something incomprehensible hangs about the whole!”
Leonora agreed in this conclusion, expressing a fear lest harm should happen to themselves thereby. They were not ignorant of the whispers afloat, but hitherto treated them either with ridicule or indifference. Suspicion, however, once awake, mystery once apprehended, every circ.u.mstance, even the most trivial, is seized upon, the mind bending all to one grand object which haunts and excites the imagination.
Having left his companion at her brother's dwelling, De Vessey came to his own, moody and dispirited. A vague sense of some grievous but impending misfortune hung heavily upon him. Night brought no mitigation of his fears. Spectres, skeletons, and demon-painters haunted his slumbers. He awoke in greater torment than ever. The duplicate portrait was brought to his remembrance with a vividness, an intensity so appalling, that he almost expected to behold the skeleton wearer at his bedside.
Involved in a labyrinth of inextricable surmises, and not knowing what course to pursue, he arose early, and walked forth without aim or design towards the church of Notre Dame.
The red sun was just bursting through a thick atmosphere of mist, illuminating its two dark western towers, which looked even more gloomy under a bright and glowing sky, like melancholy in immediate contrast with hilarity and joy.
He pa.s.sed the Morgue, or dead-house, where bodies found in the Seine are exposed, in order that they may be owned or recognised. Impelled by curiosity, he entered. One s.p.a.ce alone was occupied. He could not surely be deceived when he saw the body of the unfortunate painter!
Those features were too well remembered to be mistaken. Here was new ground for conjecture, fresh wonder and perplexity. He left this melancholy exhibition and entered the cathedral. Ma.s.s was celebrating at one of the altars. De Vessey joined in adoration, strolling away afterwards towards the vaults: one of them was open. From some vague, unaccountable impulse, he thus accosted the s.e.xton:--
”Whose grave is this, friend?”
”A maid's--mayhap.”
”Her name?”
”The only remaining descendant of the Barons Montargis.”
”I have some knowledge of that n.o.ble gentlewoman; she was just about to be married. What might be the nature of her malady?”
”Why, verily there be as many guesses as opinions. The doctors were all at fault, and, 'tis said, even now in great dispute. The king's physician tried hard to save her. Old Frere Jeronymo, the confessor, will have it she was possessed; but all his fumigations, exorcisms, paters, and holy water could not cast out the foul fiend. She died raving mad!”
”A miserable portion for one so young and high-born. Was there no visible cause?”
”Cause!--Ay, marry; if common gossip be not an arrant jade. Her portrait had been taken by that same limner who, they say, has been taught in the devil's school, and can despatch a likeness with the twirl of his brush.”
”And what of that?” cried De Vessey, in an agony of impatience.
”Why, the same fate has happened to several of our city dames. That is all.”
”What has happened?”
”They have gone mad, and either felt or fancied some demon had gotten them in keeping. For my part, I pretend not to a knowledge of the matter. But you seem strangely moved, methinks.”
The cavalier was nigh choking with emotion. Sick at heart, and with a fearful presentiment of impending evil, he turned suddenly away.
His next visit, as may be supposed, was to his mistress. He found her in great agitation. The portrait had been sent home the preceding night, and completely finished, lay before her--an exquisite--nay, marvellous--specimen of art. She was gazing on her own radiant counterpart as he entered. They both agreed that something more than ordinary ran through the whole proceedings, though unable to comprehend their meaning. De Vessey related his discovery in the Morgue, but not his subsequent interview with the s.e.xton.
Ere night, Leonora was seized with a strange and frightful disease.
Symptoms of insanity were soon developed. She uttered fearful cries; calling on the painter in language wild and incoherent, but of terrific import.
The lover was at his wits' end. He vowed to spare no efforts to save her, though scarcely knowing what course to pursue, or in what quarter to apply for help.