 Chapter 13 of Tsastrotsi, a Romance, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. Tsastrotsi, a Romance, by Percy Bish Shelley. Chapter 13 The Enticing Smile, the Modest-Seeming Eye, Beneath Whose Beautyous Beams, Belying Heaven, Lurk, Searchless, Cunning, Cruelty, and Death. Thompson Still did Matilda's blandishments, her unremitting attention inspire Veretzi with a softened tenderness towards her. He regarded her as one who, at the risk of her own life, had saved his, who loved him with an ardent affection, and whose affection was likely to be lasting, and though he could not regard her with that enthusiastic tenderness, with which he even yet adored the memory of his Julia, yet he might esteem her, faithfully esteem her, and felt not that horror at uniting himself with her as formerly. But a conversation which he had with Julia recurred to his mind. He remembered well that when they had talked of their speedy marriage, she had expressed an idea that a union in this life might endure to all eternity, and that the chosen of his heart on earth might, by congeniality of sentiment, be united in heaven. The idea was hallowed by the remembrance of his Julia, but chasing it as an unreal vision from his mind, again his high sentiments of gratitude prevailed. Lost in these ideas, involved in a train of thought, and unconscious where his footsteps led him, he quitted the castella. His reverie was interrupted by low murmurs, which seemed to float on the silence of the forest. It was scarcely audible, yet Veretzi felt an indefinable wish to know what it was. He advanced towards it. It was Matilda's voice. Veretzi approached nearer, and from within heard the voice in complaints. He eagerly listened. Her sobs rendered her words, which in passionate exclamations burst from Matilda's lips, almost inaudible. He still listened. A pause in the tempest of grief which shook Matilda's soul seemed to have taken place. Oh Veretzi, cruel, unfeeling Veretzi, exclaimed Matilda, as a fierce paroxysm of passion seized her brain, will you thus suffer one who adores you to linger in hopeless love, and witness the excruciating agony of one who idolises you as I do, to madness? As she spoke thus a long-drawn sigh closed the sentence. Veretzi's mind was agitated by various emotions as he stood, but rushing in at last raised Matilda in his arms, and tenderly attempted to comfort her. She started as he entered. She heeded not his words, but seemingly overcome by shame, cast herself at his feet and hid her face in his robe. He tenderly raised her, and his expressions convinced her that the reward of all her anxiety was now about to be reaped. The most triumphant anticipation of transports to come filled her bosom. Yet knowing it to be necessary to dissemble, knowing that a shameless claim on his affections would but disgust Veretzi, she said, Oh Veretzi, forgive me, supposing myself to be alone, supposing no one overheard the avowal of the secret of my soul, with which, believe me, I never more intended to have impotuned you. What shameless sentiments, shameless even in solitude, have I not given vent to. I can no longer conceal that the passion with which I adore you is unconquerable, irresistible. But I conjure you, think not upon what you have this moment heard to my disadvantage, nor despise a weak, unhappy creature, who feels it impossible to overcome the fatal passion which consumes her. Nevermore will I give vent even in solitude to my love. Nevermore shall the importunities of the hapless Matilda reach your ears. To conquer a passion fervent, tender as mine is impossible. As she thus spoke, Matilda seemingly overcome by shame, sank upon the turf. A sentiment stronger than gratitude, more ardent than esteem, and more tender than admiration softened Veretzi's heart as he raised Matilda. Her symmetrical form shone with tenfold loveliness to his heated fancy. And with sudden fondness he cast himself at her feet, a lethian torpor crept upon his senses, and as he lay prostrate before Matilda a total forgetfulness of every former event of his life swam in his dizzy brain. In passionate exclamations he avowed unbounded love. Oh Matilda, dearest angelic Matilda, exclaimed Veretzi, I am even now unconscious what blinded me, what kept me from acknowledging my adoration of thee. Adoration never to be changed by circumstances, never effaced by time. The fire of voluptuous, of maddening love scorched his veins as he caught the transported Matilda in his arms, and in accents almost inarticulate with passion swore eternal fidelity. And accept my oath of everlasting allegiance to thee, adored Veretzi, exclaimed Matilda, accept my vows of eternal, indissoluble love. Veretzi's whole frame was agitated by unwonted and ardent emotions. He called Matilda his wife. In the delirium of sudden fondness he clasped her to his bosom. And though love, like ours, exclaimed the infatuated Veretzi, once not the vain ties of human laws, yet that our love may want not any sanction which could possibly be given to it, let immediate orders be given for the celebration of our union. Matilda exultingly consented. Never had she experienced sensations of delight like these. The feelings of her soul flushed in exulting glances from her fiery eyes. Fierce, transporting triumph filled her soul as she gazed on her victim, whose mildly beaming eyes were now characterised by a voluptuous expression. Her heart beat high with transport, and as they entered the castella, the swelling emotions of her bosom were too tumultuous for utterance. Wild with passion she clasped Veretzi to her beating breast, and overcome by an ecstasy of delirious passion her senses were whirled around in confused and inexpressible delight. A new and fierce passion raged likewise in Veretzi's breast. He returned her embrace with ardour, and clasped her in fierce transports. But the adoration with which he now regarded Matilda was a different sentiment from that chaste and mild emotion which had characterised his love for Julia. That passion which he had fondly supposed would end but with his existence was effaced by the arts of another. Now was Matilda's purpose attained. The next day would behold her his bride. The next day would behold her fondest purpose accomplished. With the most eager impatience, the fiercest anticipation of transport did she wait for its arrival. Slowly passed the day, and slowly did the clock toll each lingering hour as it rolled away. The following morning at last arrived, Matilda arose from a sleepless couch, fierce transporting triumph flashed from her eyes as she embraced her victim. He returned it. He called her his dear and ever beloved spouse, and in all the transports of maddening love declared his impatience for the arrival of the monk who was to unite them. Every blandishment, everything which might dispel reflection, was this day put in practice by Matilda. The monk at last arrived. The fatal ceremony, fatal to the peace of the Red Sea, was performed. A magnificent feast had been previously arranged. Every luxurious veined, every expensive wine which might contribute to heighten Matilda's triumph, was present in profusion. Matilda's joy, her soul-felt triumph, was too great for utterance, too great for concealment. The exultation of her inmost soul flashed in expressive glances from her scintillating eyes, expressive of joy, intense, unutterable. Animated with excessive delight, she started from the table, and seizing Veretzi's hand in a transport of inconceivable bliss, dragged him in wild sport and varied movements, to the sound of swelling and soul-touching melody. Come, my Matilda, at last exclaimed Veretzi, come, I am weary of transport, sick with excess of unutterable pleasure, let us retire and retrace in dreams the pleasures of the day. Little did Veretzi think that this day was the basis of his future misery. Little did he think that amid the roses of successful and licensed voluptuousness, regret, horror and despair would arise to blast the prospects which Julia being forgot appeared so fair, so ecstatic. The morning came, inconceivable emotions, inconceivable to those who have never felt them dilated Matilda's soul with an ecstasy of inexpressible bliss. Every barrier to her passion was thrown down, every opposition conquered, still was her bosom the scene of fierce and contending passions. Though in possession of everything which her fancy had portrayed with such excessive delight, she was far from feeling that innocent and calm pleasure which soothes the soul and calming each violent emotion fills it with a serene happiness. No, her brain was whirled around in transports, fierce confused transports of visionary and unreal bliss, though her every pulse, her every nerve panted with the delight of gratified and expectant desire, still was she not happy, she enjoyed not that tranquility which is necessary to the existence of happiness. In this temper of mind, for a short period she left Veretzi as she had appointed a meeting with her co-agitor in wickedness. She soon met him. I need not ask, exclaimed Zastrotzi, for well do I see in those triumphant glances that Veretzi is lying, that the plan which we concerted when we last met has put you in possession of that which your soul panted for. Oh, Zastrotzi, said Matilda, kind, excellent Zastrotzi, what words can express the gratitude which I feel towards you? What words can express the bliss, exquisite, celestial which I owe to your advice? Yet still amid the roses of successful love, amid the ecstasies of transporting voluptuousness, fear, blighting, chilly fear, damps my hopes of happiness. Julia, the hated, accursed Julia's image, is the phantom which scares my otherwise certain confidence of eternal delight. Could she but be hurled to destruction? Could some other artifice of my friend sweep her from the number of the living? It is enough, Matilda, interrupted Zastrotzi, it is enough, in six days hence meet me here. Meanwhile, let not any corroding anticipations destroy your present happiness. Fear not, but on the arrival of your faithful Zastrotzi, expect the earnest of the happiness which you wish to enjoy for ever. Thus saying, Zastrotzi departed, and Matilda retraced her steps to her castella. Amid the delight, the ecstasy for which her soul had so long panted, amid the embraces of him whom she had fondly supposed alone to constitute all terrestrial happiness, racking, corroding thoughts possessed Matilda's bosom. Deeply musing on schemes of future delight, delight established by the gratification of most diabolical revenge, her eyes fixed upon the ground, heedless what path she pursued, Matilda advanced along the forest. Her voice aroused her from her reverie, it was Veretzi's, the well-known, the tenderly adored tone, struck upon her senses forcibly. She started, and hastening towards him, soon allayed those fears which her absence had excited in the fond heart of her spouse, and on which account he had anxiously quitted the castella to search for her. Joy, rapturous ecstatic happiness, untainted by fear, unpolluted by reflection, reigned for six days in Matilda's bosom. Five days passed away, the sixth arrived, and when the evening came, Matilda, with eager and impatient steps, sought the forest. The evening was gloomy, dense vapours overspread the air. The wind, low and hollow, sighed mournfully in the gigantic pine trees, and whispered in low hissings among the withered shrubs which grew on the rocky prominences. Matilda waited impatiently for the arrival of Zastrotzi. At last his towering form emerged from an interstice in the rocks. He advanced towards her. Success, victory, my Matilda, exclaimed Zastrotzi in an accent of exultation. Julia is, you need add no more, interrupted Matilda. Kind, excellent Zastrotzi, I thank thee. But yet do say how you destroyed her. Tell me by what racking, horrible torments you launched her soul into eternity. Did she perish by the dagger's point, or did the torments of poison send her writhing in agony to the tomb? Yes, replied Zastrotzi, she fell at my feet, overpowered by resistless convulsions. Who more ready than myself to restore the Marquesas-fleeted senses? Who more ready than myself to account for her fainting, by observing that the heat of the assembly had momentarily overpowered her? But Julia's senses were fled forever, and it was not until the swiftest gondola in Venice had borne me far towards your Castella that Il Concilio di Dieci searched for without discovering the offender. Here I must remain, for where I discovered the fatal consequences to us both are obvious. Farewell for the present, added he. Meanwhile happiness attend you. But go not to Venice. Where have you been so late, my love? Tenderly inquired Veretzi as she returned. I fear lest the night air, particularly that of so damp an evening as this, might affect your health. No, no, my dearest Veretzi, it has not, hesitatingly answered Matilda. You seem pensive, you seem melancholy, my Matilda, said Veretzi. Lay open your heart to me, I am afraid something of which I am ignorant presses upon your bosom. Is it the solitude of this remote Castella which represses the natural gaiety of your soul? Shall we go to Venice? Oh no, no, hastily and eagerly interrupted Matilda, not to Venice, we must not go to Venice. Veretzi was slightly surprised, but imputing her manner to indisposition, it passed off. Unmarked by events of importance, a month passed away, Matilda's passion unallied by satiety, unconquered by time, still raged with its former fierceness. Still was every earthly delight centred in Veretzi, and in the air-drawn visions of her imagination she portrayed to herself that this happiness would last forever. It was one evening that Veretzi and Matilda sat happy in the society of each other, that a servant entering presented the latter with a sealed paper. The contents were, Matilda Contessa di L'Arindini is summoned to appear before the holy Inquisition, to appear before its tribunal immediately on the receipt of this summons. Matilda's cheek, as she read it, was blanched with terror. The summons, the fatal, irresistible summons, struck her with chilly awe. She attempted to thrust it into her bosom, but unable to conceal her terror, she is saved to rush from the apartment, but it was in vain her trembling limbs refused to support her, and she sank fainting on the floor. Veretzi raised her, he restored her fleeting senses. He cast himself at her feet, and in the tenderest, most pathetic accents demanded the reason of her alarm. And if, said he, it is anything of which I have unconsciously been guilty, if it is anything in my conduct which has offended you, oh, how soon, how truly would I repent? Dearest Matilda, I adore you to madness! Tell me quickly, confide in one who loves you as I do." Veretzi exclaimed Matilda in a tone expressive of serene horror. And since the truth can no longer be concealed, perused that letter. She presented him the fatal summons. He eagerly snatched it, breathless with impatience he opened it. He said what words can express the consternation of the affrighted Veretzi as the summons, mysterious and inexplicable to him, pressed upon his straining eyeball. For an instant he stood fixed in mutant agonising thought. At last, in the forced serenity of despair, he demanded what was to be done. Matilda answered not, for her soul, born on the pinions of anticipation, at that instant portrayed to itself ignominious and agonising dissolution. What is to be done? Again in a deeper tone of despair demanded Veretzi. We must instantly to Venice, returned Matilda, collecting her scattered faculties. We must to Venice, there I believe we may be safe. But in some remote corner of the city we must for the present fix our habitations. We must condescend to curtail our establishment. And above all we must avoid particularity. But will my Veretzi descend from the rank of life in which his birth has placed him, and with the outcast Matilda's fortunes quit grandeur? Matilda, dearest Matilda, exclaimed Veretzi, talk not thus. You know I am ever yours. You know I love you. And with you could conceive a cottage illisium. Matilda's eyes flushed with momentary triumph, as Veretzi spoke thus amid the alarming danger which impended her. Under the displeasure of the inquisition, whose motives for prosecution are inscrutable, whose decrees are without appeal, her soul, in the possession of all it held dear on earth, secure of Veretzi's affection, thrilled with pleasurable emotions, yet not unmixed with alarm. She now prepared to depart, taking therefore out of all her domestics but the faithful Ferdinand, Matilda accompanied by Veretzi, although the evening was far advanced, threw herself into a chariot, and leaving everyone at the castella unacquainted with her intentions, took the road through the forest which led to Venice. The convent bell, almost inaudible from distance, told ten as the carriage slowly ascended a steep which rose before it. But how do you suppose, my Matilda, said Veretzi, that it will be possible for us to evade the scrutiny of the inquisition? Oh! returned Matilda, we must not appear in our true characters. We must disguise them. But, inquired Veretzi, what crime do you suppose the inquisition to allege against you? Heresy, I suppose, said Matilda. You know, an enemy has nothing to do but lay an accusation of heresy against any unfortunate and innocent individual, and the victim expires in horrible tortures, or lingers the wretched remnant of his life in dark and solitary cells. A convulsive sigh heaved Veretzi's bosom. And is that, then, to be my Matilda's destiny? He exclaimed in horror. No! Heaven will never permit such excellence to suffer! Meanwhile they had arrived at the Brenta. The Brenta's stream glided silently beneath the midnight breeze towards the Adriatic. Towering poplars, which loftily raised their spiral forms on its bank, cast a gloomy ashade upon the placid wave. Matilda and Veretzi entered a gondola, and the gray tints of approaching morn had streaked the eastern ether before they entered the Grand Canal at Venice, and passing the Rialto proceeded onwards to a small, though not inelegant, mansion in the eastern suburbs. Living here, though not grand, was commodious, and as they entered it, Veretzi expressed his approbation of living here retired. Seemingly secure from the scrutiny of the Inquisition, Matilda and Veretzi passed some days of uninterrupted happiness. At last one evening Veretzi, tired even with monotony of ecstasy, proposed to Matilda to take the gondola, and go to a festival which was to be celebrated at St Mark's place. CHAPTER XIV The evening was serene. Fleecy clouds floated on the horizon. The moon's full orb in cloudless majesty hung high in air, and was reflected in silver brilliancy by every wave of the Adriatic. As gently agitated by the evening breeze, they dashed against innumerable gondolas which crowded the Laguna. Exquisite harmony, born on the pinions of the tranquil air, floated in varying murmurs. It sometimes died away, and then again swelling louder, in melodious undulations softened to pleasure every listening ear. Every eye which gazed on the fairy scene beamed with pleasure. Unrepressed gaiety filled every heart but Julius, as with a vacant stare, unmoved by feelings of pleasure, unagitated by the gaiety which filled every other soul, she contemplated the varied scene. A magnificent gondola carried the Marquesa di Strobazzo, and the innumerable flambeau which blazed around her rivalled the meridian sun. It was the pensive melancholy Julia who immersed in thought sat unconscious of every external object whom the fierce glance of Matilda measured with a haughty expression of surprise and revenge. The dark fire which flashed from her eye more than told the feelings of her soul as she fixed it on her rival, and had it possessed the power of the basilisks, Julia would have expired on the spot. It was the ethereal form of the now forgotten Julia which first caught Verrezzi's eye. For an instant he gazed with surprise upon her symmetrical figure, and was about to point her out to Matilda when in the downcast countenance of the enchanting female he recognized his long lost Julia. To paint the feelings of Verrezzi, as Julia raised her head from the attitude in which it was fixed, and disclosed to his view that countenance which he had formally gazed on in ecstasy, the index of that soul to which he had sworn everlasting fidelity is impossible. The lethian torpa, as it were, which before had benumbed him, the charm which had united him to Matilda was dissolved. All the air-built visions of delight which had but a moment before floated in gay variety in his enraptured imagination faded away, and in place of these regret, horror and despairing repentance reared their heads amid the roses of momentary voluptuousness. He still gazed entranced, but Julia's gondola, indistinct from distance, mocked his straining eyeball. For a time neither spoke, the gondola rapidly passed onwards, but immersed in thought Matilda and Verrezzi heeded not its rapidity. They had arrived at St. Mark's place, and the gondolier's voice, as he announced it, was the first interruption of the silence. They started. Verrezzi now, for the first time, aroused from his reverie of horror, saw that the scene before him was real, and that the oaths of fidelity which he had so often and so fervently sworn to Julia were broken. The extreme of horror seized his brain, a frigorific torpedoity of despair chilled every sense, and his eyes fixedly gazed on vacancy. Oh, return! Instantly return! Impatiently replied Matilda to the question of the gondolier. The gondolier surprised, obeyed her, and they returned. The spacious canal was crowded with gondolas, merriment and splendour reigned around, enchanting harmony stole over the scene. But listless of the music heeding not the splendour, Matilda sat lost in a maze of thought. Fiercest vengeance reveled through her bosom, and in her own mind she resolved a horrible purpose. Meanwhile the hour was late, the moon had gained the zenith and poured her beams vertically on the unruffled Adriatic when the gondola stopped before Matilda's mansion. The sumptuous supper had been prepared for their return. Silently Matilda entered, silently Beretsi followed. Without speaking, Matilda seated herself at the supper table. Beretsi, with an air of listlessness, threw himself into a chair beside her. For a time neither spoke. You are not well tonight, at last stammered out, Beretsi. What has disturbed you? Disturbed me, repeated Matilda. Why do you suppose that anything has disturbed me? A more violent paroxysm of horror seemed now to seize Beretsi's brain. He pressed his hand to his burning forehead. The agony of his mind was too great to be concealed. Julia's form, as he had last seen her, floated in his fancy, and overpowered by the resistlessly horrible ideas which pressed upon them, his senses failed him. He faintly uttered Julia's name. He sank forward, and his throbbing temples reclined on the table. A rise, awake! Prostrate purged Beretsi, awake! exclaimed the infuriate Matilda in a tone of gloomy horror. Beretsi started up, and gazed with surprise upon the countenance of Matilda, which convulsed by passion, flashed desperation and revenge. "'Tis plain,' said Matilda gloomily, "'Tis plain, he loves me not!' A confusion of contending emotions battled in Beretsi's bosom. His marriage vow, his faith plighted to Matilda, convulsed his soul with indescribable agony. Still did she possess a great empire over his soul. Still was her frown terrible, and still did the hapless Beretsi tremble at the tones of her voice. As in a frenzy of desperate passion she bait him quit her for ever, and, added she, go disclose the retreat of the outcast Matilda to her enemies. Deliver me to the inquisition that a union with her you detest may fetter you no longer." Exhausted by breathless agitation, Matilda ceased. The passions of her soul flashed from her eyes. A thousand conflicting emotions battled in Beretsi's bosom. He knew scarce what to do, but yielding to the impulse of the moment, he cast himself at Matilda's feet and groaned deeply. At last the words, I am ever yours, I ever shall be yours, escaped his lips. For a time Matilda stood immovable. At last she looked on Beretsi. She gazed downwards upon his majestic and youthful figure. She looked upon his soul-illumined countenance, and tenfold love assailed her softened soul. She raised him in an oblivious delirium of sudden fondness. She clasped him to her bosom, and in wild and hurried expressions asserted her right to his love. Her breast palpitated with fiercest emotions. She pressed her burning lips to his. Most fervent, most voluptuous sensations of ecstasy reveled through her bosom. Beretsi caught the infection, in an instant of oblivion, every oath of fidelity which he had sworn to another, like a baseless cloud dissolved away. A lethian torper crept over his senses. He forgot Julia, or remembered her only as an uncertain vision, which floated before his fancy, more as an ideal being of another world, whom he might hereafter adore there, than as an enchanting and congenial female to whom his oaths of eternal fidelity had been given. Overcome by unutterable transports of returning bliss, she started from his embrace. She seized his hand, her face was overspread with a heightened colour as she pressed it to her lips. And are you then mine? Mine for ever! rapturously exclaimed Matilda, Oh, I am thine, thine to all eternity! returned the infatuated Beretsi. No earthly power shall sever us. and by congeniality of soul, united by a bond to which God himself bore witness. He again clasped her to his bosom, again as an earnest of fidelity imprinted a fervent kiss on her glowing cheek. And overcome by the violent and resistless emotions of the moment, swore that nor heaven nor hell should cancel the union which he here solemnly and unequivocally renewed. Beretsi filled an overflowing goblet. Do you love me? inquired Matilda. May the lightning of heaven consume me if I adore thee not to distraction! May I be plunged in endless torments if my love for thee, celestial Matilda, endures not for ever! Matilda's eyes flashed fiercest triumph. The exultingly delightful feelings of her soul were too much for utterance. She spoke not, but gazed, fixedly on Beretsi's countenance. End of chapter 14. Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere Surrey. Chapter 15 of Zastrozzi, a romance. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Geeson. Zastrozzi, a romance by Percy Bish Shelley. Chapter 15. That no compunctious visitings of nature shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between the effect and it. Come to my woman's breasts, and take my milk for gall, ye murdering ministers, wherever in your sightless substances ye wait on nature's mischief. Look, Beth. Beretsi raised the goblet which he had just filled, and exclaimed in an impassioned tone, My adored Matilda, this is to thy happiness, this is to thy every wish, and if I cherish a single thought which centres not in thee, may the most horrible tortures which ever poisoned the peace of man drive me instantly to distraction. God of heaven, witness thou my oath, and write it in letters never to be erased. Living spirits who watch over the happiness of mortals attend, for here I swear eternal fidelity, indissoluable, unalterable affection to Matilda. He said, he raised his eyes towards heaven, he gazed upon Matilda, their eyes met, hers gleamed with a triumphant expression of unbounded love. Beretsi raised the goblet to his lips. When low on a sudden he dashed it to the ground, his whole frame was shook by horrible convulsions. His glaring eyes, starting from their sockets, rolled wildly around. Laced with sudden madness, he drew a dagger from his girdle, and with fellest intent raised it high. What phantom blasted Beretsi's eyeball! What made the impassioned lover dash a goblet to the ground which he was about to drain as a pledge of eternal love to the choice of his soul? And why did he infuriate, who had but an instant before imagined Matilda's arms an earthly paradise, attempt to rush unprepared into the presence of his creator? It was the mildly beaming eyes of the lovely but forgotten Julia, which spoke reproaches to the soul of Beretsi. It was her celestial countenance shaded by dishevelled ringlets which spoke daggers to the false one. For when he had raised the goblet to his lips, when, sublime by the maddening fire of voluptuousness, to the height of enthusiastic passion, he swore indissoluble fidelity to another. Julia stood before him. Madness, fiercest madness, reveled through his brain. He raised the ponyard high, but Julia rushed forwards, and in accents of desperation, in a voice of alarmed tenderness, besought him to spare the dagger from his bosom. It was stained with his life's blood, which trickled fast from the point to the floor. She raised it on high, and impiously called upon the God of Nature to doom her to endless torments should Julia survive her vengeance. She advanced towards her victim, who lay bereft of scents on the floor. She shook her rudely, and grasping a handful of her dishevelled hair, raised her from the earth. "'Noest thou me,' exclaimed Matilda, in frantic passion, "'Noest thou the injured Laurintini, behold this dagger reeking with my husband's blood, behold that pale course, in whose now cold breast thy accursed image reveling, impelled to commit the deed which deprives me of happiness for ever!' Julia's senses, roused by Matilda's violence, returned. She cast her eyes upwards with a timid expression of apprehension, and beheld the infuriate Matilda convulsed by fiercest passion, and a bloodstained dagger raised aloft, threatening instant death. "'Die, detested wretch!' exclaimed Matilda, in a paroxysm of rage, as she violently attempted to bathe the stiletto in the life-blood of her rival. But Julia, starting aside, the weapon slightly wounded her neck, and the ensanguined stream stained her alabaster bosom. She fell on the floor, but suddenly, starting up, attempted to escape her bloodthirsty persecutor. Nerv'd anew by this futile attempt to escape her vengeance, the ferocious Matilda seized Julia's floating hair, and holding her back with fiend-like strength, stabbed her in a thousand places, and with exulting pleasure, again and again buried the dagger to the hilt in her body, even after all remains of life were annihilated. At last the passions of Matilda, exhausted by their own violence, sank into a deadly calm. She threw the dagger violently from her, and contemplated the terrific scene before her with a sullen gaze. Before her, in the arms of death, lay him on whom her hopes of happiness seemed to have formed so firm a basis. Before her lay her rival, pierced with innumerable wounds, whose head reclined on Veretzi's bosom, and whose angelic features, even in death, a smile of affection pervaded. There she herself stood, an isolated, guilty being. A fiercer paroxysm of passion now seized her, in an agony of horror, too great to be described. She tore her hair in handfuls. She blasphemed the power who had given her being, and implicated eternal torments upon the mother who had borne her. And is it for this, added the ferocious Matilda, is it for horror, for torments such as these that he whom monks call all merciful has created me? She seized the dagger which lay on the floor. Ah, friendly dagger! She exclaimed, in a voice of fiend-like horror, Would that thy blow produced annihilation, With what pleasure then would I clasp thee to my heart? She raised it high. She gazed on it. The yet warm blood of the innocent Julia trickled from its point. The guilty Matilda shrunk at death. She let fall the upraised dagger. Her soul had caught a glimpse of the misery which awaits the wicked hereafter. And spite of her contempt of religion, spite of her till now too firm dependence on the doctrines of atheism, she trembled at futurity. And a voice from within which whispers, Thou shalt never die, spoke daggers to Matilda's soul. Whilst thus she stood entranced in a delirium of despair, the night wore away, and the domestic who attended her, surprised at the unusual hour to which they had prolonged the banquet, came to announce the lateness of the hour. But opening the door and perceiving Matilda's garment stained with blood, she started back with a fright, without knowing the full extent of horror which the chamber contained, and alarmed the other domestics with an account that Matilda had been stabbed. In a crowd they all came to the door, but started back in terror when they saw Beretsi and Julia stretched lifeless on the floor. Summoning fortitude from despair, Matilda loudly called for them to return, but fear and horror overbalanced her commands, and, wild with a fright, they all rushed from the chamber except Ferdinand, who advanced to Matilda and demanded an explanation. Matilda gave it in few and hurried words. Ferdinand again quitted the apartment, and told the credulous domestics that an unknown female had surprised Beretsi and Matilda, that she had stabbed Beretsi and then committed suicide. The crowd of servants, as in mute terror they listened to Ferdinand's account, entertained not a doubt of the truth. Again and again they demanded an explanation of the mysterious affair, and employed their wits in conjecturing what might be the cause of it. But the more they conjectured, the more they were puzzled. Till at last a clever fellow named Pietro, who, hating Ferdinand on account of the superior confidence with which his lady treated him, and supposing more to be concealed in this affair than met the ear, gave information to the police. And before morning Matilda's dwelling was surrounded by a party of officials belonging to Il Concilio di Dieci. Loud shouts rent the air as the officials attempted the entrance. Matilda was still in the apartment where during the night so bloody a tragedy had been acted. Still in speechless horror was she extended on the sofa when a loud rap at the door aroused the horror-transred wretch. She started from the sofa in wildest perturbation and listened attentively. Again was the noise repeated and the officials rushed in. They searched every apartment. At last they entered that in which Matilda, motionless with despair, remained. Even the stern officials, hardy, unfeeling as they were, started back with momentary horror as they beheld the fair countenance of the murdered Julia. Fair even in death and her body disfigured with numberless ghastly wounds. This cannot be suicide, muttered one who by his superior manner seemed to be their chief as he raised the fragile form of Julia from the ground, and the blood scarcely yet cold trickled from her vestments. Put your orders in execution, added he. Two officials advanced towards Matilda, who standing apart with seeming tranquility awaited their approach. What wishy-with-me! exclaimed Matilda haughtily. The officials answered not, but their chief drawing a paper from his vest which contained an order for the arrest of Matilda, la Contessa di Laurentini, presented it to her. She turned pale, but without resistance obeyed the mandate and followed the officials in silence to the canal where a gondola awaited, and in a short time she was in the gloomy prisons of Il Concilio di Dieci. A little straw was the bed of the Horti Laurentini. A picture of water and bread was her sustenance. Gloom, horror and despair pervaded her soul. All the pleasures which she had but yesterday tasted, all the ecstatic blisses which her enthusiastic soul had painted for futurity, like the unreal vision of a dream faded away, and confined in a damp and narrow cell, Matilda saw that all her hopes of future delight would end in speedy and ignominious dissolution. Though past the time, slow did the clock at St. Mark's told the revolving hours as languidly they passed away. Night came on, and the hour of midnight struck upon Matilda's soul as her death knell. A noise was heard in the passage which led to the prison. Matilda raised her head from the wall against which it was reclined, and eagerly listened, as if in expectation of an event which would seal her future fate. She still gazed when the chains of the entrance were unlocked. The door, as it opened, grated harshly on its hinges, and two officials entered. Follow me, was the laconic injunction which greeted her terror-struck ear. Trembling Matilda arose. Her limbs, stiffened by confinement, almost refused to support her, but collecting fortitude from desperation, she followed the relentless officials in silence. One of them bore a lamp, whose rays darting in uncertain columns, showed by strong contrasts of light and shade the extreme massiness of the passages. The gothic frieze above was worked with art, and the cobbles in various and grotesque forms jutted from the tops of clustered pilasters. They stopped at a door. Voices were heard from within, their hollow tones filled Matilda's soul with unconquerable tremors. But she summoned all her resolution. She resolved to be collected during the trial, and even if sentenced to death, to meet her fate with fortitude, that the populace, as they gazed, might not exclaim, the poor Laurentini dared not to die. These thoughts were passing in her mind during the delay which was occasioned by the officials conversing with another whom they met there. At last they ceased. An uninterrupted silence reigned. The immense folding doors were thrown open, and disclosed to Matilda's view a vast and lofty apartment. In the centre was a table which a lamp suspended from the centre overhung, and where two stern looking men, habited in black vestments, were seated. And papers covered the table with which the two men in black seemed busily employed. Two officials conducted Matilda to the table where they sat, and retiring left her there. End of Chapter 15. Chapter 16 Fear for their scourge mean villains have, thou art the torturer of the brave. Marmian One of the inquisitors raised his eyes. He put back the papers which he was examining, and in a solemn tone asked her name. My name is Matilda, my title, La Contessa di Laurentini, hortily she answered, nor do I know the motive for that inquiry, except it were to exult over my miseries, which you are, I suppose, no stranger to. Waste not your time, exclaimed the inquisitor sternly, in making idle conjectures upon our conduct, but do you know for what you are summoned here? No, replied Matilda. Swear that you know not for what crime you are here imprisoned, said the inquisitor. Matilda took the oath required. As she spoke, a dewy sweat burst from her brow, and her limbs were convulsed by the extreme of horror, yet the expression of her countenance was changed not. What crime have you committed which might subject you to the notice of this tribunal? demanded he in a determined tone of voice. Matilda gave no answer, save a smile of exulting scorn. She fixed her regards upon the inquisitor. Her dark eyes flashed fiercely, but she spoke not. Answer me, exclaimed he, what to confess might save both of us needless trouble. Matilda answered not, but gazed in silence upon the inquisitor's countenance. He stamped thrice, four officials rushed in and stood at some distance from Matilda. I am unwilling, said the inquisitor, to treat a female of high birth with indignity, but if you confess not instantly, my duty will not permit me to withhold the question. A deeper expression of contempt shaded Matilda's beautiful countenance. She frowned, but answered not. You will persist in this foolish obstinacy, exclaimed the inquisitor. Officials, do your duty. Only the four, who till now had stood in the background, rushed forwards. They seized Matilda, and bore her into the obscurity of the apartment. Her dishevelled ringlets floated in negligent luxurience over her alabaster bosom. Her eyes, the contemptuous glance of which had now given way to a confused expression of alarm, were almost closed, and her symmetrical form, as borne away by the four officials, looked interestingly lovely. The other inquisitor, who till now, busied by the papers which lay before him, had he did not, Matilda's examination, raised his eyes, and beholding the form of a female, with a commanding tone of voice, called to the officials to stop. Submissively they obeyed his order. Matilda, released from the foul hands of these relentless ministers of justice, advanced to the table. Her extreme beauty softened the inquisitor who had spoken last. He little thought that under a form so celestial, so interesting, lurked a heart depraved, vicious as a demon's. He therefore mildly addressed her, and telling her that on some future day her examination would be renewed, committed her to the care of the officials, with orders to conduct her to an apartment better suited to her rank. The chamber to which she followed the officials was spacious and well furnished, but large iron bars secured the windows which were high and impossible to be forced. Left again to solitude, again to her own gloomy thoughts, her retrospection but horror and despair, her hopes of futurity, none, her fears many and horrible, Matilda's situation is better conceived than described. Floating in wild confusion, the ideas which presented themselves to her imagination were too horrible for endurance. Deprived as she was of all earthly happiness, fierce as had been her passion for Veretzi, the disappointment of which sublimed her brain to the most infuriate delirium of resistless horror, the wretched Matilda still shrunk at death. She shrunk at the punishment of those crimes in whose perpetration no remorse had touched her soul, for which even now she repented not but as they had deprived her of terrestrial enjoyments. She thought upon the future state. She thought upon the arguments of Zastrozzi against the existence of a deity. Her inmost soul now acknowledged their falsehood, and she shuddered as she reflected that her condition was irretrievable. Resistless horror reveled through her bosom. In an intensity of racking thought she rapidly paced the apartment. At last overpowered she sank upon a sofa. At last the tumultuous passions, exhausted by their own violence, subsided. The storm, which so lately had agitated Matilda's soul, ceased. A serene calm succeeded, and sleep quickly overcame her faculties. Most visions flitted in Matilda's imagination whilst under the influence of sleep. At last they assumed a settled shape. Strangely brilliant and silvery clouds seemed to flit before her sight. Celestial music, enchanting as the harmony of the spheres, sereneed Matilda's soul, and for an instant her situation forgotten she lay entranced. All a sudden the music ceased. The azure concavity of heaven seemed to open at the zenith, and a being whose countenance beamed with unutterable beneficence descended. It seemed to be clothed in a transparent robe of flowing silver. Its eye scintillated with superhuman brilliancy, whilst her dream, imitating reality, almost to exactness, caused the entranced Matilda to suppose that it addressed her in these words. Poor, sinning Matilda! Repent! It is not yet too late. God's mercy is unbounded! Repent, and thou mayest yet be saved! These words yet tingled in Matilda's ears, yet where her eyes lifted to heaven as if following the visionary phantom who had addressed her in her dream, when much confused she arose from the sofa. A dream so like reality made a strong impression upon Matilda's soul. The ferocious passions which so lately had battled fiercely in her bosom were calmed. She lifted her eyes to heaven. They beamed with an expression of sincerest penitence, for sincerest penitence at this moment agonised whilst it calmed Matilda's soul. God of mercy! God of heaven! exclaimed Matilda. My sins are many and horrible, but I repent. Matilda knew not how to pray. But God, who from the height of heaven penetrates the inmost thoughts of terrestrial hearts, heard the outcast sinner as in tears of true and agonising repentance, she knelt before him. She despaired no longer. She confided in the beneficence of her creator, and in the hour of adversity, when the firmest heart must tremble at his power, no longer a hardened sinner demanded mercy. And mercy by the all-benevolent of heaven is never refused to those who humbly, yet trusting in his goodness, ask it. Matilda's soul was filled with a celestial tranquility. She remained upon her knees in mute and fervent thought. She prayed, and with trembling asked forgiveness of her creator. No longer did that agony of despair torture her bosom. True, she was ill at ease, remorse for her crimes deeply affected her. And though her hopes of salvation were great, her belief in God and a future state firm, the heavy sighs which burst from her bosom showed that the arrows of repentance had penetrated deeply. Several days passed away, during which the conflicting passions of Matilda's soul conquered by penitence, were mellowed into a fixed and quiet depression. End of Chapter 17. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey. Chapter 17 of Zastrozzi, a romance. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. Zastrozzi, a romance. By Percy Bysshele. Chapter 17. Si frag tu si labatur orbis, impawidon feriant ruinae. Horace. At last the day arrived, when exposed to a public trial, Matilda was conducted to the tribunal of Ilconcilio di Dieci. The inquisitors were not as before at a table in the middle of the apartment, but a sort of throne was raised at one end, on which a stern-looking man, whom she had never seen before, sat. A great number of Venetians were assembled and lined all sides of the apartment. Many in black vestments were arranged behind the superior's throne, among whom Matilda recognised those who had before examined her. Conducted by two officials, with a faltering step, a pallid cheek and downcast eye, Matilda advanced to that part of the chamber where sat the superior. The dishevelled ringlets of her hair floated unconfined over her shoulders. Her symmetrical and elegant form was enveloped in a thin white robe. The expression of her sparkling eyes was downcast and humble, yet seemingly unmoved by the scene before her, she remained in silence at the tribunal. The curiosity and pity of everyone as they gazed on the loveliness of the beautiful culprit was strongly excited. Who is she? Who is she? Ran in inquiring whispers round the apartment. No one could tell. Again deep silence reigned. Not a whisper interrupted the appalling calm. At last the superior in a sternly solemn voice said, Matilda, Contessa di Laurentini, you are here arraigned on the murder of la Marchesa di Strobazzo. Canst thou deny it? Canst thou prove to the contrary? My ears are open to conviction. Does no one speak for the accused? He ceased. Uninterrupted silence reigned. Again he was about. Again with a look of detestation and horror he had fixed his penetrating eye upon the trembling Matilda, and had unclosed his mouth to utter the fatal sentence, when his attention was arrested by a man who rushed from the crowd, and exclaimed in a hurried tone, La Contessa di Laurentini is innocent. Who are you who dare assert that? exclaimed the superior with an air of doubt. I am, answered he, Ferdinand Silnitz, a German, the servant of La Contessa di Laurentini, and I dare assert that she is innocent. Your proof exclaimed the superior with a severe frown. It was late, answered Ferdinand, when I entered the apartment, and then I beheld two bleeding bodies, and La Contessa di Laurentini, who lay bereft of scents on the sofa. Stop! exclaimed the superior. Ferdinand obeyed. The superior whispered to one in black vestments, and soon four officials entered, bearing on their shoulders an open coffin. The superior pointed to the ground. The officials deposited their burden, and produced to the terror-struck eyes of the gazing multitude Julia, the lovely Julia, covered with innumerable and ghastly gashes. All present uttered a cry of terror. All started, shocked and amazed from the horrible sight. Yet some recovering themselves, gazed at the celestial loveliness of the poor victim to revenge, which, unsubdued by death, still shone from her placid features. A deep-drawn sigh heaved Matilda's bosom. Tears, spite of all her firmness, rushed into her eyes, and she had nearly fainted with dizzy horror. But overcoming it, and collecting all her fortitude, she advanced towards the course of her rival, and in the numerous wounds which covered it, saw the fiat of her future destiny. She still gazed on it. A deep silence reigned. Not one of the spectators so interested were they uttered a single word. Not a whisper was heard through the spacious apartment. And off, guild-stained, relentless woman, at last exclaimed the superior fiercely. Is it not enough that you have persecuted, through life, the wretched female who lies before you, murdered by you, ceased therefore to gaze on her with looks as if your vengeance was yet insatiated? But retire, wretch! Let's take her into your custody. Meanwhile, bring the other prisoner. Two officials rushed forward, and led Matilda to some distance from the tribunal. Four others entered, leading a man of towering height and majestic figure. The heavy chains with which his legs were bound rattled as he advanced. Matilda raised her eyes. Tsastrotsi stood before her. She rushed forwards. The officials stood unmoved. Oh, Tsastrotsi! she exclaimed. Dreadful! Wicked has been the tenor of our life! Base! Ignominious will be its termination! Yes, we repent! This, horrible, may be the eternal torments which will rack us! Their four and twenty hours are elapsed! Repent, then, Tsastrotsi! Repent! And as you have been my companion in apostasy divert to you, follow me likewise in dereliction of stubborn and determined wickedness. This was pronounced in a low and faltering voice. Matilda replied Tsastrotsi whilst a smile of contemptuous atheism played over his features. Matilda, fear not! It wills us to die, and I intend to meet death, to encounter annihilation with tranquility. Am I not convinced of the non-existence of a deity? Am I not convinced that death will but render this soul more free, more unvettered? Why need I, then, shudder at death? Why need anyone whose mind has risen above the shackles of prejudice, the errors of a false and injurious superstition? Here the superior interposed, and declared he could allow private conversation no longer. Therefore Tsastrotsi, unappalled by the awful scene before him, unshaken by the near approach of agonising death, which he now fully believed he was about to suffer, advanced towards the superior's throne. Everyone gazed on the lofty stature of Tsastrotsi, and admired his dignified mean and dauntless composure, even more than they had the beauty of Matilda. Everyone gazed in silence, and expected that some extraordinary charge would be brought against him. The name of Tsastrotsi, pronounced by the superior, had already broken the silence, when the culprit, gazing disdainfully on his judge, told him to be silent, for he would spare him much needless trouble. I am a murderer, exclaimed Tsastrotsi. I deny it not. I buried my dagger in the heart of him who injured me. But the motives which led me to be an assassin were at once excellent and meritorious, for I swore at a loved mother's deathbed to revenge her betrayer's falsehood. Thank you that whilst I perpetrated the deed, I feared the punishment, or whilst I revenged a parent's cause, that the futile torments which I am doomed to suffer here had any weight in my determination. No, no, if the vile deceiver, who brought my spotless mother to a tomb of misery, fell beneath the dagger of one who swore to revenge her. If I sent him to another world, who destroyed the peace of one I loved more than myself in this, am I to be blamed. Tsastrotsi ceased, and with an expression of scornful triumph folded his arms. Go on, exclaimed the superior. Go on, go on, go on, echoed from every part of the immense apartment. He looked around him. His manner awed the tumultuous multitude, and in uninterrupted silence the spectators gazed upon the unappalled Tsastrotsi, who, towering as a demigod, stood in the midst. Am I then called upon, said he, to disclose things which bring painful remembrances to my mind. Ah, how painful! But no matter, you shall know the name of him who fell beneath this arm. You shall know him whose memory even now I detest more than I can express. I care not who knows my actions, convinced as I am, and convinced to all eternity as I shall be of their rectitude. Know then, that Olivia was my mother, a woman in whom every virtue, every amiable and excellent quality I firmly believe to have been centred. The father of him who by my arts committed suicide but six days ago in La Contessa di Launtini's mansion, took advantage of a moment of weakness and disgraced her who bore me. He swore with the most sacred oaths to marry her, but he was false. My mother soon brought me into the world. The seducer married another, and when the destitute Olivia begged a pittance to keep her from starving, her proud betrayer spurned her from his door and tauntingly bade her exercise her profession. The crime I committed with thee, purged one, exclaimed my mother as she left his door, shall be my last. And by heavens she acted nobly, a victim to falsehood, she sank early to the tomb, and ere her thirtieth year she died, her spotless soul fled to eternal happiness. Never shall I forget, though but fourteen when she died, never shall I forget her last commands. My son, said she, my Pietrino, revenge my wrongs, revenge them on the purged viretzi, revenge them on his progeny for ever. And by heaven I think I have revenged them, ere I was twenty-four, the false villain, though surrounded by seemingly impenetrable grandeur, though forgetful of the offence to punish which this arm was nerfed, sank beneath my dagger. But I destroyed his body alone, added sastrozi, with a terrible look of insatiated vengeance. Time has taught me better. His son's soul is hell doomed to all eternity. He destroyed himself, but my machinations, though unseen, affected his destruction. Matilda di Larentini, ha, why do you shudder? When with repeated stabs you destroyed her, who now lies lifeless before you in her coffin, did you not reflect upon what must be your fate? You have enjoyed him whom you adored, you have even been married to him, and for the space of more than a month you have tasted unutterable joys, and yet you are unwilling to pay the price of your happiness. By heavens, I am not! How did he bursting into a wild laugh? Ah, poor fool, Matilda! Did you think it was from friendship? I instructed you how to gain viretzi. No, no, it was revenge which induced me to enter into your schemes with zeal, which induced me to lead her, whose lifeless form lies yonder, to your house, for seeing the effect it would have upon the strong passions of your husband. And now, added Sastrotsi, I have been candid with you. Judge, pass your sentence, but I know my doom, and instead of horror experience some degree of satisfaction at the arrival of death, since all I have to do on earth is completed. Sastrotsi ceased, and unappalled fixed his expressive gaze upon the superior. Surprised at Sastrotsi's firmness and shocked at the crimes of which he had made so unequivocal and avowal, the superior turned away in horror. Nervled Sastrotsi stood unmoved and fearlessly awaited the fiat of his destiny. The superior whispered to one in black vestments. Four officials rushed in and placed Sastrotsi on the rack. Even whilst writhing under the agony of almost insupportable torture, his nerves were stretched, Sastrotsi's firmness failed him not, but upon his soul-illumined countenance played a smile of most disdainful scorn, and with a wild convulsive laugh of exulting revenge, he died.