"My name," said he, "in the more fortunate years of my life, was Alphonso; and the city of Venice gave me birth. I was the only child of an opulent citizen, and need scarcely inform you that no restraint was laid upon my inclinations when a child; and the dawn of manhood beheld me plunged amid every intemperance which that luxurious city then afforded. Money was plentifully supplied me by my parents to support my extravagances; and I sought after happiness among the rounds of pleasure and the gay circles of society; but I only met with desires ungratified, hopes often frustrated, and wishes never satisfied. I had a friend. He was called Theodore. I loved him as dearly as a selfish being like myself could love any one. He shared in all my pleasures.
"An amorous, jealous, and revengeful disposition is commonly laid to the share of the Italians; and, with sorrow I confess, that formed the principal ingredient of my character. I had reached my twentieth year of thoughtlessness and folly, when, one night at the opera, a young lady in an opposite box attracted my attention; and my eyes were insensibly riveted upon the beauteous figure. I need not tell you that she was beautiful—she was loveliness itself. I will not trespass on your time in describing the new and pleasing sensations that arose in my bosom; you have trod the magic paths of pleasure, and bowed to the charms of beauty: they are not unknown to you.
"I felt that all my libertine pursuits had only been the shadows of pleasure; and from that moment I determined to abandon them, and fix my love on her alone. We became acquainted, and I found that she was as worthy of the purest love as my fond wishes desired. She was the only child of Count Rudolpho; and, for the space of three months, I was a constant visiter at her father's palazzo. In due time I pleaded the force of my love. But what were the sensations of my soul, when the tear started from her eye of beauty, and the dreadful sentence burst upon my ear—'I am the bride of Theodore!'
"I burst from her presence with a palpitating heart, and returned homewards, agitated by the conflicting passions of despair and revenge. I drew my sword from its sheath, and promised the blood of Theodore, of the friend of my bosom, to its point. The steel trembled in my grasp as the vow fell from my lips, and my heart recoiled at the idea of shedding blood; but the still small voice was an unequal match with the baneful principles of a corrupted soul."
The recluse stopped, and the loud sobs of sorrow and repentance alone burst upon the gloomy silence of the scene. The hectic flush of fever played and wantoned across his pallid features, as if it seemed to exult in the weakness of mortality, and delight in the loveliness of its own soul-loathed ravages. The tears dropped large and plentiful from his eyes, and his spirit seemed bended and broken with the racking remembrance. I bent over the wasted form of the wretched penitent, and while I poured the voice of comfort in his ear, and wiped the tears from his eyes, his soul resumed its wonted firmness, and even a smile beamed upon his blanched lips, as he grasped my hand, and pressed it to his bosom in silence, and with thankfulness.
"Behold!" said he, drawing an old sword from beneath the side of his miserable straw pallet—"behold this steel, red-rusted with the blood of Theodore, from which the bitter tears of sixty long winters have been unable to efface the stain. Pardon the feelings of an infirm old man. My soul weeps blood at the remembrance.
"I pitched upon the bridal eve of Theodore for that of his death, and the seizure of his bride; and hired the leader of a band of ruffians to assist me in the scheme. The fatal night, so big with horror, at last arrived. The sun sank sullenly into the shades of the west, and his departing gleams glanced redly and angrily upon me. The raven wings of early night fell upon Venice; and I stepped into my gondola, with my hired followers. We set forward upon our errand. The palazzo of Count Albert was soon gained. Busy nature waxed calm and hushed; the artisan had retired to the sweets of his lowly but happy cottage; the convent-bell had tolled, solemn and slow, the vesper knell; and then
'Uprose the yellow moon,'
silvering the rippling waters of the canals, and glancing its beams upon the glittering palaces of Venice. It was a lovely night; but my soul ill brooked the calm grandeur of the scene.
"By the treachery of a servant, my comrades were admitted into Count Rudolpho's grounds, whilst I attended the nuptial rites with the well-dissembled face of friendship. Joy was dancing in every eye but mine. My hand trembled at times on the hilt of my poniard, and I awaited the favourable moment with a degree of impatience bordering on frenzy. Many a fair maid was there, tripping amid the joyous throng, whose beauty might have warmed the frigid heart of an anchorite; but my eyes and mind were upon the dear, dear Violetta: she was lovelier than ever, but—she was the spouse of Theodore.