The castle was wrapped in silence, it being past the hour at which the household retired to repose. Gina Montani was in her nightdress, though as yet she had not touched her hair, which remained in long curls, as she had worn it in the day. Suspense and agitation caused her to linger, and she sat at her dressing-table in a musing attitude, her head resting on her hand, wondering what would be the ending to all that the day had brought forth. She had dismissed her attendant some time before. With a deep sigh she rose to continue her preparations for rest, when the door softly opened, and the Signora Lucrezia appeared.

"You need not prepare yourself for bed," she observed, in a low, distinct whisper; "another sort of bed is preparing for you."

"What do you mean?" demanded the startled girl.

"That you are this night to die."

Gina shrieked.

"I may tell you," interrupted the lady, "that screams and resistance will be wholly useless. Your doom is irrevocable, therefore it may save you trouble to be silent."

"You are speaking falsely to me. I have done nothing to deserve death."

"Equivocation will be alike unavailing," repeated Lucrezia. "And if you ask what you have done—you have dared to step with your ill-placed passion between my lord and the Lady Adelaide: you have brought discredit[pg 193] upon the long-upheld religion of this house."

"I have disturbed no one's faith," returned Gina. "I wish to disturb none. It is true that I love Giovanni, Count di Visinara, but I loved him long ere he saw the Lady Adelaide."

"What!" cried the signora, her cheeks inflamed, and her brow darkening, "do you dare to avow your shame to my face?"

"It is no shame," answered Gina, sadly; there is nothing of guilt in such a love as mine."

"Follow me," repeated Lucrezia. "You have no time to waste in lamentations."

"By whose orders do I die?" demanded the indignant girl. "Not by his; and no one else has a right to condemn me."

Lucrezia expected this, and was prepared. Alas, that the Lord of Visinara should that day have left his signet ring behind him!

"Do you know this ring!" demanded Lucrezia, holding out the jewel.

"Too well. It is the Count of Visinara's."

"You may then know who has condemned you."

"Oh, Giovanni!" wailed Gina, as she sank prostrate on the floor in her anguish, "this from you!" All idea of resistance vanished with the thought that it was him she so loved who doomed her to destruction. "I thought he was still at the Capella Palace," she inquired, looking up at Lucrezia, a doubt possibly finding its way to her heart. "When did he return?"

"I came not to waste the moments in idle words," returned Lucrezia, as she prepared to utter the falsehood; "it is sufficient for you to know that he has returned, and has given the orders that you seem inclined to resist."

"Implore him to come to me for one moment, for a last farewell."

"I may not ask it. He is with the Lady Adelaide."

"First, my happiness, then, my life, sacrificed to appease the Lady Adelaide! Oh, Giovanni! false, but dear Giovanni—"

"I have no orders to call those who will use violence," interrupted the signora, "but I must do so if you delay to follow me."

"I am about to dress myself," returned Gina.

"The dress you have on will serve as well as another—and better, for a night-gown bears some resemblance to a shroud."

"One moment for prayer," was the next imploring petition.

"Prayer for you!" broke contemptuously from the signora.

"A single moment for prayer," reiterated the victim. "If I am, indeed, about to meet my Maker, I stand awfully in need of it; for I have of late worshipped but one, but it has not been Him."

"Prayer for you, a heretic!" repeated Lucrezia; "you may as well offer it up to blocks of wood or stone. The creed you profess forfeits all inheritance for you in heaven."

Yet still Gina repeated it—"A few moments for prayer, in mercy!"

"Then pray away where you are going," returned Lucrezia, impatiently. "You will have time enough, and to spare—minutes, and hours, and days, perhaps."

The signora evidently took a savage pleasure in urging on the death of Gina Montani. What could be the reason? Women in general are not so frightfully cruel. The motive was, that she herself loved the count. As Bianca had said, when watching the bridal cavalcade, could any be brought into daily contact with one so attractive and not learn to love him? so it had proved with Lucrezia. Being the favorite attendant of her mistress, she was much with her, and consequently daily and frequently in the company of Giovanni. He had many a gay word and passing jest for her, for he was by nature a gallant, free-spoken man; and this had its effect. Whilst he never glanced a thought towards her but as one necessary to wait upon his wife, he became to her heart dangerously dear; and excessively jealous had she been of Gina ever since she had heard the conversation in the embroidery-room. Pushing the unfortunate girl on before her, Lucrezia silently passed from Gina's bed-chamber to the secret passages, plenty of which might be found in the castle. She bore a lantern in her hand, which emitted a dim, uncertain light. At length they came to a passage, a little beyond the chapel, far removed from the habited apartments; and in the middle of this were two male forms, busily occupied at work of some description. A lantern, similar to the one Lucrezia carried, was hanging high up against the opposite wall; another stood on the ground. Gina stopped and shivered, but Lucrezia touched her arm, and she walked on. They were nearing the men, who were habited as monks, and their faces shielded beneath their cowls, when the signora halted and pressed her hand upon her brow, as if in thought. Presently she turned to Gina. A second lie was in her mouth; but how was the ill-fated young lady to know it? "He sent you a message," she whispered. "It is his last request to you. Will you receive it?" The unhappy victim looked up eagerly.

"He requests, then, by his love for you—by the remembrance of the happy moments you once spent together, that you neither resist nor scream."

Her heart was too full to speak; but she bowed her head in acquiescence. Lucrezia moved to go on. "How is my life to be taken? By the dagger? By blows?"

"By neither—by nothing. Not a hair of your head will be touched."

"Ah! I might have guessed. It is by poison."

"It will be taken by nothing, I tell you. Why do you not listen to me?"

[pg 194]

"You speak in riddles," said Gina, faintly. "But I will bear my fate, whatever it may be."

"And in silence? He asks it by your mutual love."

"All, all, for his sake," she answered. "Tell him, as I have loved, so will I obey him to the last."

Lucrezia walked on, and Gina followed. She saw and understood the manner of her death, but, faithful to the imagined wish of her lover, she uttered neither remonstrance nor cry. The clock was upon the stroke of one, when smothered groans of fear and anguish told that her punishment had begun; but no louder sound broke the midnight silence, or carried the appalling deed to the inhabitants of the castle. An hour passed before all was completed: they were long in doing their deed of vengeance; and, when it was over, Gina Montani had been removed from the world forever.

"Madame, she is gone!" was the salutation of Lucrezia, her teeth chattering, and her face the hue of a corpse, when she entered the chamber of her mistress.

The Lady Adelaide had not retired to rest. She was pacing her apartment in unutterable misery. The social conditions of life, its forms and objects, were to her as nothing since her terrible awaking to reality.

Morning had dawned before the return of the Lord of Visinara. He was fatigued both in body and mind, and, throwing himself upon a couch, slept for some hours. And he probably would have rested longer, had not an unusual disturbance and commotion in his household aroused him. They were telling a strange tale: one that, for the moment, drove the life-blood away from his heart. It was, that the wicked dealings of Gina Montani with Satan had been brought to light on the previous day. The holy Father Anselmo had taxed her with her guilt, and she had openly confessed all without reserve; and that the Evil One had appeared in the night, and had run away with her—a just reward.

In those times, a reputed visit of the devil in propria persona would have been likely to obtain more credence than it could in these: but it would probably be going too far to say that the Lord of Visinara participated in the belief of his horror-stricken household. Certain it is, he caused minute inquiries to be made, although at the express disapprobation of the spiritual directors of the neighboring monastery, some of whom were attached to the services of his chapel, and pointed out to him the grievous sin it was thus to be solicitous about the fate of an avowed heretic. But he could learn nothing. The maid who waited on her testified that she assisted Gina to undress on the previous night. In proof of which, the garments she had taken off were found in the chamber. The remainder of her clothes were in their places undisturbed; the only article missing being a nightdress, which the attendant in question said she saw her put on; and her bed had not been slept in. Giovanni spoke to his wife, but she observed a haughty silence, and it was useless to question her. He had the moat dragged, and the neighborhood for miles round scoured, but no tidings could be obtained. Yet, strange to say, in passing on that first morning through the remote corridors, he fancied he heard her voice pronounce his name in a tone of imploring agony. He searched in every nook and corner, but found nothing, and soon thought no more of it, except to marvel how his imagination could so have deceived him.

After a time, peace was restored between the count and the Lady Adelaide; but all bliss for her, all mutual confidence, had ceased for ever.