'I am dying,' said he, in a faultering accent; 'send instantly for the
marchioness and my son.'
Ferdinand, in escaping from the hands of the banditti, it was now
seen, had fallen into the power of his father. He had been since
confined in an apartment of the castle, and was now liberated to obey
the summons. The countenance of the marquis exhibited a ghastly image;
Ferdinand, when he drew near the bed, suddenly shrunk back, overcome
with horror. The marquis now beckoned his attendants to quit the room,
and they were preparing to obey, when a violent noise was heard from
without; almost in the same instant the door of the apartment was
thrown open, and the servant, who had been sent for the marchioness,
rushed in. His look alone declared the horror of his mind, for words
he had none to utter. He stared wildly, and pointed to the gallery he
had quitted. Ferdinand, seized with new terror, rushed the way he
pointed to the apartment of the marchioness. A spectacle of horror
presented itself. Maria lay on a couch lifeless, and bathed in blood.
A poignard, the instrument of her destruction, was on the floor; and
it appeared from a letter which was found on the couch beside her,
that she had died by her own hand.
The paper contained these words:
TO THE MARQUIS DE MAZZINI
Your words have stabbed my heart. No power on earth could
restore the peace you have destroyed. I will escape from my
torture. When you read this, I shall be no more. But the
triumph shall no longer be yours--the draught you have drank
was given by the hand of the injured
MARIA DE MAZZINI.
It now appeared that the marquis was poisoned by the vengeance of the
woman to whom he had resigned his conscience. The consternation and
distress of Ferdinand cannot easily be conceived: he hastened back to
his father's chamber, but determined to conceal the dreadful
catastrophe of Maria de Vellorno. This precaution, however, was
useless; for the servants, in the consternation of terror, had
revealed it, and the marquis had fainted.
Returning pains recalled his senses, and the agonies he suffered were
too shocking for the beholders. Medical endeavours were applied, but
the poison was too powerful for antidote. The marquis's pains at
length subsided; the poison had exhausted most of its rage, and he
became tolerably easy. He waved his hand for the attendants to leave
the room; and beckoning to Ferdinand, whose senses were almost stunned
by this accumulation of horror, bade him sit down beside him. 'The
hand of death is now upon me,' said he; 'I would employ these last
moments in revealing a deed, which is more dreadful to me than all the
bodily agonies I suffer. It will be some relief to me to discover it.'
Ferdinand grasped the hand of the marquis in speechless terror. 'The
retribution of heaven is upon me,' resumed the marquis. 'My punishment
is the immediate consequence of my guilt. Heaven has made that woman
the instrument of its justice, whom I made the instrument of my
crimes;----that woman, for whose sake I forgot conscience, and braved
vice--for whom I imprisoned an innocent wife, and afterwards murdered
her.'