Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf

by George W. M. Reynolds

Alessandro returned to the suburb of Pera, in which the mansion of the Florentine Embassy was situated—his mind full of the beautiful creature whose countenance he had seen for a moment, and whose soft form he had also for a moment—a single moment—held in his arms. He could not apply himself to the duties of his office, but feigned indisposition and retired to the privacy of his own apartment. And never did that chamber seem so lonely, so cold, so cheerless. His entire disposition appeared to have become suddenly changed; he felt that the world now contained something the possession of which was positively necessary to his happiness. One sole idea absorbed all his thoughts: the most lovely countenance which, in his estimation, he had ever seen was so indelibly reflected in the mirror of his mind, that his imagination could contemplate naught besides. He knew not that whenever he went abroad, he was watched by one of the spies of the reis-effendi; and he was therefore surprised when, on the following day, that secret agent of the minister whispered in his ear, “Christian, thou lovest—and it depends on thyself whether thou wilt be loved in return!”

Alessandro was stupefied at these words. His secret was known, or at least suspected. He questioned the individual who had thus addressed him, and he found that the incident of the preceding day was indeed more than suspected—it was known. He besought to know who the lady was; but the spy would not, or could not satisfy him. He, however, promised that he would endeavor to ascertain a point in which Alessandro appeared to be so deeply interested. The intriguing spirit of Turkish dependents is notorious: the reader will not therefore be surprised when we state that in a few days the spy made his appearance in Alessandro’s presence with a countenance denoting joyous tidings. The young Italian was impatient to learn the results of the agent’s inquiries.

“I know not who the lady is,” was the reply; “but this much I have to impart to you, signor—that she did not behold you the other day with indifference; that she is grateful for the attention you paid in offering your aid to save her from perhaps a serious accident—and that she will grant you a few moments’ interview this evening, provided you assent to certain conditions to be imposed upon you, respecting the preliminary arrangements for your meeting.”

“Name them! name them!” exclaimed Alessandro, wild with joy, and almost doubting whether he were not in the midst of a delicious dream.

“That you consent to be blindfolded while being conducted into her presence—that you maintain the most profound silence while with those who will guide you to her abode—and that you return from the interview under the same circumstances.”

“I should be unworthy the interest which she deigns to manifest in my behalf, were I to refuse compliance with those terms,” answered Alessandro.

“An hour after sunset,” said the spy, “you will meet me at the gate of the Mosque of Selimya;” and with those words he hurried away, leaving the young Florentine in a state of excited hope, amounting to a delirium of joy.

Alessandro was well aware that adventures, such as the one in which he found himself suddenly involved, were by no means uncommon in the East; and that ladies of the most unimpeachable virtue, as well as of the highest rank, frequently accorded interviews of this private nature to those men who were fortunate enough to merit their attention—such visits being the first step toward matrimonial connections. But then he remembered that he was a Christian, and the fair object of his devotion was probably of the Moslem faith. What, then, would be the result? Was some wealthy lady of high rank about to abandon her creed for his sake? or would the sacrifice of his faith be required as the only condition on which his complete happiness might be achieved? He knew not—cared but little; it was sufficient for him that he was to meet the charming being whose image had never once quitted his mind, from the first moment he had seen her in the bezestein!

Even before the appointed hour was Alessandro pacing the square in front of the splendid temple which the Sultan Selim—the conqueror of Egypt—had erected, and which bore his imperial name. At length the agent, for whom he waited, made his appearance. This man, though actually a Turkish dependent in the service of the Florentine Envoy, was, as before stated, neither more nor less than one of the numerous spies placed by the reis-effendi round the person of that embassador. Alessandro was aware of this, in consequence of the offers and representations that had been made to him through the means of this agent, and though the youth suspected that the man knew more concerning the beauteous idol of his heart than he had chosen to admit, yet he had seen enough to convince him of the inutility of questioning him on that head.

It was, therefore, in silence that Alessandro followed his guide through several by-streets down to the margin of the waters of the Golden Horn. There a boat, in which two rowers and a female slave were seated, was waiting.