The Italian (Radcliffe)/Volume 1/Chapter 5

by Ann Radcliffe

CHAP. V.

 

"What if it be a poison, which the friarSubtly hath ministered?"———Shakespeare.

 

Vivaldi, when his first feelings of pity and compunction for having insulted an aged man, the member of a sacred profession, were past, and when he looked with a more deliberate eye upon some circum­stances of the confessor's conduct, perceived that suspi­cion was again gathering on his mind. But, regard­ing this as a symptom of his own weakness, rather than as a hint of truth, he endeavoured, with a magnani­mous disdain, to reject every surmise that boded un­favourably of Schedoni.

When evening arrived, he hastened towards the villa Altieri, and, having met without the city, accord­ing to appointment, a physician, upon whose honor and judgment he thought he might rely, they proceed­ed on their way together. Vivaldi had forgotten, during the confusion of his last interview with Ellena, to deliver up the key of the garden-gate, and he now entered it as usual, though he could not entirely over­come the reluctance, which he felt on thus visiting, in secret and at night, the dwelling of Ellena. Un­der no other circumstances, however, could the physi­cian, whose opinion was so necessary to his peace, be introduced without betraying a suspicion, which must render her unhappy, probably for ever.

Beatrice, who had watched for them in the portico, led the way to the chamber where the corpse was laid out; and Vivaldi, though considerably affected when he entered, soon recovered composure enough to take his station on one side of the bed, while the physician placed himself on the other. Unwilling to expose his emotion to the observation of a servant, and desirous also of some private conversation with the physician, he took the lamp from Beatrice and dismissed her.—As the light glared upon the livid face of the corpse, Vivaldi gazed with melancholy surprise, and an effort of reason was necessary to convince him, that this was the same countenance which only one evening preced­ing was animated like his own; which had looked upon him in tears, while, with anxiety the most tender, she had committed the happiness of her niece to his care, and had, alas! too justly predicted her ap­proaching dissolution. The circumstances of that scene now appeared to him like a vision, and touched every fibre of his heart. He was fully sensible of the importance of the trust committed to him, and, as he now hung over the pale and deserted form of Bianchi, he silently renewed his solemn vows to Ellena, to de­serve the confidence of her departed guardian.

Before Vivaldi had courage enough to ask the opi­nion of the physician, who was still viewing the face of the deceased with very earnest attention and disap­proving countenance, his own suspicions strengthened from some circumstances of her appearance; and par­ticularly from the black tint that prevailed over her complexion, it seemed to him, that her death had been by poison. He seared to break a silence, which pro­longed his hope of the contrary, feeble though it was; and the physician, who probably was apprehensive for the consequence of delivering his real thoughts, did not speak.

"I read your opinion," said Vivaldi, at length, "it coincides with my own."

"I know not as to that, Signor," replied the phy­sician, "though I think I perceive what is yours. Appearances are unfavourable, yet I will not take up­on me to decide from them, that it is as you suspect. There are other circumstances, under which similar appearances might occur." He gave his reasons for this assertion, which were plausible even to Vivaldi, and concluded with requesting to speak with Beatrice, "for I wish to understand," said he, "what was the exact situation of this lady for some hours previous to her decease."

After a conversation of some length with Beatrice, whatever might be the opinion resulting from his en­quiries, he adhered nearly to his former assertions; pronouncing that so many contradictory circumstances appeared, as rendered it impossible for him to decide, whether Bianchi had died by poison, or otherwise. He stated more fully than he had done before the reasons which must render the opinion of any medical person, on this subject, doubtful. But, whether it was that he feared to be responsible for a decision, which would accuse some person of murder, or that he really was inclined to believe that Bianchi died naturally, it is certain he seemed disposed to adopt the latter opinion; and that he was very anxious to quiet the suspicions of Vivaldi. He so far succeeded, indeed, as to convince him that it would be unavailing to pursue the enquiry, and almost compelled him to believe, that she had de­parted according to the common course of nature.

Vivaldi, having lingered awhile over the death-bed of Bianchi, and taken a last farewel of her silent form, quitted the chamber and the house as softly as he had approached, and unobserved, as he believed, by Ellena or any other person. The morning dawned over the sea, when he returned into the garden, and a few fish­ermen, loitering on the beach, or putting off their little boats from the shore, were the only persons visible at this early hour. The time, however, was passed for renewing the enquiry he had purposed at Paluzzi, and the brightening dawn warned him to retire. To Naples, therefore, he returned, with spirits somewhat soothed by a hope, that Bianchi had not fallen prema­turely, and by the certainty that Ellena was well. On the way thither, he passed the fort without interrup­tion, and, having parted with the physician, was ad­mitted into his father's mansion by a confidential servant.