A Sicilian Romance

Night at length came. He repaired to the pavilion, and secreted

himself among the trees that embowered it. Many minutes had not

passed, when he heard a sound of low whispering voices steal from

among the trees, and footsteps approaching down the alley. He stood

almost petrified with terrible sensations, and presently heard some

persons enter the pavilion. The marquis now emerged from his

hiding-place; a faint light issued from the building. He stole to the

window, and beheld within, Maria and the Cavalier de Vincini. Fired

at the sight, he drew his sword, and sprang forward. The sound of his

step alarmed the cavalier, who, on perceiving the marquis, rushed by

him from the pavilion, and disappeared among the woods. The marquis

pursued, but could not overtake him; and he returned to the pavilion

with an intention of plunging his sword in the heart of Maria, when he

discovered her senseless on the ground. Pity now suspended his

vengeance; he paused in agonizing gaze upon her, and returned his

sword into the scabbard.

She revived, but on observing the marquis, screamed and relapsed. He

hastened to the castle for assistance, inventing, to conceal his

disgrace, some pretence for her sudden illness, and she was conveyed

to her chamber. The marquis was now not suffered to doubt her infidelity, but the

passion which her conduct abused, her faithlessness could not subdue;

he still doated with absurd fondness, and even regretted that

uncertainty could no longer flatter him with hope. It seemed as if his

desire of her affection increased with his knowledge of the loss of

it; and the very circumstance which should have roused his aversion,

by a strange perversity of disposition, appeared to heighten his

passion, and to make him think it impossible he could exist without

her. When the first energy of his indignation was subsided, he determined,

therefore, to reprove and to punish, but hereafter to restore her to

favor. In this resolution he went to her apartment, and reprehended her

falsehood in terms of just indignation.

Maria de Vellorno, in whom the late discovery had roused resentment,

instead of awakening penitence; and exasperated pride without exciting

shame--heard the upbraidings of the marquis with impatience, and

replied to them with acrimonious violence.

She boldly asserted her innocence, and instantly invented a story, the

plausibility of which might have deceived a man who had evidence less

certain than his senses to contradict it. She behaved with a

haughtiness the most insolent; and when she perceived that the marquis

was no longer to be misled, and that her violence failed to accomplish

its purpose, she had recourse to tears and supplications. But the

artifice was too glaring to succeed; and the marquis quitted her

apartment in an agony of resentment.