The Sicilian Bandit. Dumas Alexandre
I belong to the same country as yourself," said the countess; "my father was Count of Castel Nuovo, and lived in a little fortress a quarter of a league from the village."
"I know it, madame," said the young man, in a low hoarse voice.
"Well, I ought to know your name," said the countess. "Tell me, then, and I will see what I can do for you."
"Believe me, madame la comtesse," said the stranger, "it would be better for you to remain ignorant of it. What does my name signify? I am an honest man. I would make Teresa happy; and if it were necessary, I would sacrifice my life for you or the prince."
"Your obstinacy is very strange," said the countess, "and I have a greater desire to know your name than ever, for when I asked Teresa what it was, she, like you, refused to tell me. In the meantime, I warn you that I will not consent to your wishes except on that condition."
"You wish to know it then, madame?"
"I insist upon it!" said the countess.
"For the last time," said the stranger, "I beg, I implore you, not to insist upon it."
"Either name it," said the countess, in an imperative tone, "or leave me."
"I am called Pascal Bruno," said the young man, in so calm a voice that you might have imagined every emotion had passed away if the paleness of his features had not been evidence of the internal struggle.
"Pascal Bruno!" cried the countess, drawing back in her chair in terror. "Pascal Bruno! You, the son of Antonio Bruno, whose head is placed in an iron cage at the Château de Bauso?"
"I am his son," coolly replied the young man.
"And do you not know," asked the countess, "why your father's head is placed there? Speak!" Pascal remained silent. "Well," continued the countess, "it was because your father attempted to assassinate mine."
"I know all that, madame," replied Pascal, calmly; "and I know, besides, that when you, then a child, was taken into the village, your attendants showed you that head, and told you it was my father's head; but they did not tell you, madame, that your father dishonoured mine."
"Thou liest!" passionately exclaimed the countess.
"May God punish me if I tell not the truth. Madame, my mother was beautiful and virtuous; your father, the count, became enamoured of her: but she resisted all his importunities, all his promises, and all his threats; but one day, when my father had gone to Taormina, the count caused her to be carried off by four men, taken to a small house that belonged to him between Limero and Furnari (it is now a tavern), and there – madame – he violated her!"
"The count was lord and master of the village of Bauso," said Gemma, proudly. "Both the property and the persons of its inhabitants belonged to him, and he did your mother much honour by admiring her."
"My father did not think so it appears," said Pascal, knitting his brow. "That, perhaps, was because he was born at Stilla, on the lands of the Prince de Moncada Paterno; and on that account he struck the count. The wound was not mortal; so much the better. For a long time I deeply regretted it; but now, to my shame, I congratulate myself on it."
"If my memory be correct," said the countess, "not only was your father put to death as murderer, but your uncles are still at the galleys."
"Your memory is good," said Pascal. "My uncles gave an asylum to the assassin, and defended him when the officers came to arrest him: they were, therefore, looked upon as accomplices, and sent, my uncle Placido, to Favignana; my uncle Pietro, to Lipari; and my uncle Pépe, to Vulcano. As for myself, I was too young; and, although I was arrested, they gave me up again to my mother."
"And what became of your mother?" asked Gemma.
"She died," said Pascal, mournfully.
"Where?" asked Gemma.
"In the mountains between Pizzo di Goto and Nisi," replied Pascal.
"Why did she leave Bauso?" inquired the countess.
"That every time we passed the castle," said Pascal, "she might not see the head of her husband, nor I that of my father! Yes, she died without a physician, without a priest – she was buried in unholy ground, and I dug her grave. There, madame – you will pardon me, I trust – over the newly-turned earth I swore to avenge the wrongs of my family – of whom I, alone, remain – upon you, the only survivor of the family of the count. But I became enamoured of Teresa, and I left the mountains that I might not see my mother's grave, towards which I felt myself perjured. I came down to the plain, and went to Bauso. I did more than that, for when I knew that Teresa had left the village to enter your service, I thought of entering that of the count. For a long time I felt repugnant at the idea; but my love for Teresa overcame every other feeling. I made up my mind to see you – I have seen you; here am I, without arms, and a suppliant before you, madame – before whom I ought only to appear as an enemy."
"You must perceive," said Gemma, "the prince cannot take into his service the son of a man who was hanged, and whose uncles are at the galleys."
"Why not, madame?" asked Bruno, "if that man consents to forget that those punishments were unjustly inflicted?"
"Are you mad?" said the countess.
"Madame la comtesse," said Pascal, "you know what an oath is to a mountaineer. Well, I have broken my oath. You also know the vengeance of a Sicilian. Well, I will renounce my vengeance and forget my oath. I ask only that all may be forgotten, and that you will not force me to remember it?"
"But if you should," said the countess, "how would you act?"
"I do not wish to think upon the subject."
"Then we must take our measures accordingly," said the countess.
"I beg of you, madame la comtesse," said Pascal, "to have pity on me; you see that I am doing all that I can to remain an honest man. Once engaged by the prince – once Teresa's husband, I can answer for myself: otherwise I shall never return to Bauso."
"It is impossible to do as you desire," said the countess, decidedly.
"Countess," said Pascal, earnestly, "you have loved?" Gemma smiled disdainfully. "You must know what jealousy is – you must know its sufferings, its maddening tortures. Well, I love Teresa – I am jealous of her; and I feel I should lose my senses if this marriage take place; and then – "
"Well, then – " said Gemma, in an agitated tone.
"Then, take heed' I do not remember the galleys where my uncles are, the cage in which my father's head is placed, and the grave where my mother sleeps!" At this instant a strange cry, which seemed to be a signal, was heard outside the window, and almost at the same instant a bell was rung.
"There is the prince," said Gemma, regaining her confidence.
"Yes, yes – I know it," mattered Pascal; "but before he passes through yonder door, you have time to say 'yes.' I implore you, madame, to grant me what I ask. Give me Teresa – place me in the prince's service!"
"Let me pass," said Gemma, imperiously, and advanced towards the door; but instead of obeying this order, Bruno sprang to the door and bolted it. "Would you dare to stop me?" cried Gemma, taking hold of the bell. "Help! help!"
"Do not call out, madame," said Bruno, still mastering his feelings, "for I have told you I will do you no harm."
A second cry, resembling the first, was heard outside the window.
"It is well – well, Ali; you watch faithfully, my boy," said Bruno. "Yes, I know the count has arrived; I hear him in the corridor. Madame, madame! an instant longer remains for you; one second, and all the misfortunes I foresee may be avoided."
"Help, Rodolpho! Help!" screamed Gemma.
"You have, then neither heart, nor soul, nor pity, either for yourself or others," cried Bruno plunging his hands in his hair and looking at the door, which was being violently shaken.
"I am fastened in!" cired the countess, who felt fresh courage from the assistance which had arrived; "fastened in with a man who is threatening my life. Help! help! Rodolpho, help!"
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