“No, Fernand—it is you!” cried Nisida, in a thrilling, penetrating tone, as if of anguish.
“Merciful Heaven! what misery is in store for us both!” said Wagner, pressing his hand to his burning brow. “Oh! that some ship would appear to bear thee away—or that my destiny were other than it is!”
And he flung himself upon the sand in a fit of blank despair. Nisida now trembled at the violence of those emotions which she had raised in the breast of him whom she loved; and for a minute she reproached herself for having so implicitly obeyed the counsel of the evil spirit.
Her own feelings were worked up to that pitch of excitement with which women—even in the strongest-minded, must have its vent in tears; and she burst into an agony of weeping.
The sound of those sobs was more than the generous-hearted and affectionate Fernand could bear; and starting from the sand whereon he had flung himself, he exclaimed, “Nisida, my beloved Nisida, dry those tears, subdue this frenzied grief! Let us say no more upon these exciting topics this evening; but I will meditate, I will reflect upon the morrow, and then I will communicate to thee the result of my deliberations.”
“Oh! there is then hope for me yet!” cried Nisida, joyfully; “and thou hast the means to grant my wishes, but thou fearest to use them. We will say no more this evening on subjects calculated to give so little pleasure; but to-morrow, my Fernand, to-morrow.”
And Nisida stopped her own utterance by pressing her lips to those of Wagner, winding her beauteous arms most lovingly round his neck at the same time, and pressing him to her bosom.
But that night and the ensuing morn were destined to wring the heart-cords of the unhappy Fernand: for the influence of the demon, though unknown and unrecognized, was dominant with Nisida.
CHAPTER LVI.
It was night—and Fernand was pacing the sand with even greater agitation than he had manifested during the cruel scene of the evening. He was alone on the seashore; and Nisida slept in the hut. Terrible thoughts warred in the breast of Wagner. Nisida’s language had astonished and alarmed him: he was convinced that Satan himself had inspired her with those ideas, the utterance of which had nearly goaded him to madness. She had insisted on the belief that he was acquainted with the means of enabling her to return to Italy; and yet Nisida was not a mere girl—a silly, whimsical being, who would assert the wildest physical impossibilities just as caprice might prompt her. No—she really entertained that belief—but without having any ostensible grounds to establish it.