"Hush," I replied; "now is the time when I blush and suffer. So long as that woman was here, and I was sacrificing my love and my pride to her, I took comfort in the thought that I was really fond of her, and that I was sacrificing myself for her and for you. Now I see only what was base and detestable in my situation. How everybody must despise us!"
"You are greatly mistaken, my dear girl," said Leoni; "everybody bows down to us and honors us because we are rich."
But Leoni did not long enjoy his triumph. The heirs-at-law, who came from Rome furious against us, having learned the details of the princess's sudden demise, accused us of having hastened it by poison, and demanded that the body should be exhumed to ascertain the facts. That was done, and, at the first glance, the traces of a powerful poison were discovered.
"We are lost!" said Leoni, rushing into my room. "Ildegonda was poisoned, and we are accused of having done it. Who could have committed that abominable crime? We must not ask the question, for it was Satan with Lorenzo's face. That is how he serves us. He is safe, and we are in the hands of the law. Do you feel the courage to leap out of the window?"
"No," I said; "I am innocent; I fear nothing. If you are guilty, fly."
"I am not guilty, Juliette," he said, squeezing my arm fiercely. "Do not accuse me when I do not accuse myself. You know that I am not in the habit of sparing myself."
We were arrested and thrown into prison. The prosecution made much noise, but it was less protracted and its result less serious than people expected. Our innocence saved us. In face of such a horrible charge I recovered all the strength due to a pure conscience. My youth and my air of sincerity won the judges at the very beginning. I was speedily acquitted. Leoni's honor and life hung in the balance a little longer. But it was impossible, despite appearances, to find any proof against him, for he was not guilty. He was horror-stricken by the crime—his face and his answers said so plainly enough. He came forth purged of that accusation. All the servants were suspected. The marquis had disappeared, but he returned secretly the moment that we were discharged from prison, and presumed to order Leoni to divide the inheritance with him. He declared that we owed him everything; that, except for the audacity and prompt execution of his plan, the will would have been destroyed. Leoni made the most terrific threats, but the marquis was not frightened. He had the murder of Henryet as a weapon to hold Leoni in awe, and he had it in his power to ruin him utterly. Leoni, frantic with rage, resigned himself to the necessity of paying him a considerable sum.
We began at once to lead a life of wild dissipation and to display the most immeasurable magnificence: to ruin himself anew was with Leoni a matter of six short months. I saw without regret the disappearance of the wealth which I had acquired with shame and sorrow; but I was terrified for Leoni's sake at the near approach of poverty. I knew that he could not endure it, and that to escape from it, he would plunge into fresh misconduct and fresh dangers. Unfortunately it was impossible to induce him to practise self-restraint and prudence; he replied with caresses or jests to my entreaties and warnings. He had fifteen English horses in his stable, his table was open to the whole city, and he had a troupe of musicians at his orders. But the principal cause of his ruin was the enormous sums he was compelled to give his former associates, to prevent them from swooping down upon him and making his house a den of thieves. He had induced them to agree not to ply their trade under his roof; and, to persuade them to leave the salon when his guests began to play cards, he was obliged to pay them a considerable sum every day. This intolerable servitude made him long sometimes to fly from the world and conceal himself with me in some peaceful retreat. But truth compels me to say that prospect was even more appalling to him; for the affection he felt for me was not strong enough to fill his whole life. He was always kind to me, but, as at Venice, he neglected me to drink his fill of all the pleasures of wealth. He led the most dissolute life away from home, and kept several mistresses, whom he selected from a certain fashionable set, to whom he made magnificent presents, and whose society flattered his insatiable vanity. Base and sordid in the acquisition of wealth, he was superb in his prodigality. His fickle character changed with his fortune, and his love for me followed all its phases. In the agitation and suffering caused by his reverses, having nobody but me in all the world to pity him and love him, he returned to me with heartfelt joy; but in his pleasures he forgot me and sought keener delights elsewhere. I was aware of all his infidelities; whether from indolence, or indifference, or confidence in my unwearying forgiveness, he no longer took the trouble to conceal them from me; and when I reproved him for the indelicacy of such frankness, he reminded me of my conduct toward the Princess Zagarolo, and asked me if my pity were already exhausted. Thus the past bound me irrevocably to patience and grief. The greatest injustice in Leoni's conduct was his apparent belief that I was ready to submit to all these sacrifices thenceforth, without pain, and that a woman could ever become accustomed to overcome her jealousy.
I received a letter from my mother, who had heard of me at last through Henryet, and who had fallen dangerously ill just as she was starting to join me. She implored me to go to take care of her, and promised to welcome me with gratitude and without reproaches. That letter was a thousand times too gentle and too kind. I bathed it with my tears; but, argue with myself as I would, it seemed to me not what it should be; it was so mild and humble in tone and expression as to be undignified. Must I say it?—it was not the pardon of a noble and loving mother, alas! but the appeal of a sick and bored woman. I started at once and found her dying. She blessed me, pardoned me and died in my arms, requesting me to see that she was buried in a certain dress of which she had been very fond.