"But when at length these last resources are exhausted?" asked Marianne--"when we no longer have either money or diamonds--how then?""Oh, then," exclaimed Carlo, with a beaming face, "then will we labor for her! That, also, will be a pleasure, Marianne!"While the two were thus conversing, Natalie, with a happy smile and cheerful face, was still singing her hymn of joy for Paulo's approaching return to the accompaniment of the rustling trees, the murmuring fountains, and the chirping birds in the myrtle-bush. It was a beautiful night, and as the bright full moon now advanced between the pines, illuminating Natalie's face and form, the partially intoxicated and perfectly happy Carlo whispered: "Only look, Marianne!
does she not resemble a blessed angel ready to spread her wings, and with the moonlight to mount up to the stars? Only look, seems it not as if the moonbeams tenderly embraced her for the purpose of leading an angel back to its home?""May she, at least, one day, with such a happy smile, take her departure for the skies!" sighed Marianne, piously folding her hands.
At this moment a shrill, cutting wail interrupted Natalie's song. Astring of her guitar had suddenly snapped asunder; frightened, almost angry, Natalie let the instrument fall to the earth, and again the strings resounded like lamentations and sighs.
"That is a bad omen," sighed Natalie. "How, if that should be true, and not my dream?"And trembling with anxiety, the young maiden stretched forth her hands toward her friends.
"Carlo--Marianne," she anxiously said, "come here to me, protect me with your love from this mortal fear and anguish which has suddenly come over me. See, the moon is hiding behind the clouds. Ah, the whole world grows dark and casts a mourning veil over its bright face!"And the timid child, clinging to Marianne's arm, concealed her face in the bosom of her motherly friend.
"And you call that an omen!" said Carlo, with forced cheerfulness.
"This time, princess, I am the /fatum/ which has alarmed you! It is my own fault that this string broke. It was already injured and half broken this evening when I tuned the guitar, but I hoped it would suffice for the low, sad melodies you now always play. Yes, could Ihave known that you would have so exulted and shouted, I should have replaced it with another string, and this great misfortune would not have occurred."While speaking, he had again attached the string and drawn it tight.
"The defective string is quickly repaired, and you can recommence your hymn of joy," he said, handing back the guitar to Natalie.
She sadly shook her head. "It is passed," said she, "I can exult and sing no more to-day, and have an aversion to this garden. See how black and threatening these pines rise up, and do not these myrtle-bushes resemble large dark graves? No, no; it frightens me here--I can no longer remain among these graves and these watchers of the dead!
Come, let us go to our rooms! It is night--we will sleep and dream!
Come, let us immediately go into the house."And like a frightened roe she fled toward the house, the others following her.
In an hour all was silent in the villa. The lights were successively extinguished in Natalie's and Marianne's chambers; only in Carlo's little chamber yet burned a dull, solitary lamp, and occasionally the shadow of the uneasy singer passed the window as he restlessly walked his room. At length, however, this lamp also was distinguished, and all was dark and still.
About this time a dark shadow was seen creeping slowly and cautiously through the garden. Soon it stood still, and then one might have supposed it to be a deception, and that only the wind shaking the pines had caused that moving shadow. But suddenly it again appeared in a moonlighted place, where no bush or tree threw its shade, and, as if alarmed by the brightness, it then again moved aside into the bushes.
This shadow came constantly nearer and nearer to the house, and as the walks were here broader and lighter, one might distinctly discern that it was a human being, the form of a tall, stately man, that so cautiously and stealthily approached the house. And what is that, sparkling and flashing in his girdle--is it not a dagger, together with a pistol and a long knife? Ah, a threatening, armed man is approaching this silent, solitary house, and no one sees, no one hears him! Even the two large hounds which with remarkable watchfulness patrol the garden during the night, even they are silent! Ah, where, then, are they? Carlo had himself unchained them that they might wander freely--where, then, can they be?
They lie in the bushes far from the house, cold, stiff, and lifeless.
Before them lies a piece of seductively smelling meat. That was what had enticed them to forget their duty, and, instead of growling and barking, they had with snuffling noses been licking this tempting flesh. Their instinct had not told them it was poisoned, and therefore they now lay stiff and cold near the food that had destroyed them.
No, from those hounds he had nothing more to fear, this bold, audacious man; the hounds will no more betray him, nor warningly announce that Joseph Ribas, the venturesome thief and galley-slave, is lurking about the house to steal or murder, as the case may be.
He has now reached the house. He listens for a moment, and as all remains still, no suspicious noise making itself heard, with pitch-covered paper, brought with him for the purpose, he presses in one of the window panes. Then, passing his hand through the vacancy caused by the absent pane of glass, he opens one wing of the French window, and, by a bold leap springing upon the parapet, he lets himself glide slowly down into the room.
Again all is still, and silent lies the solitary, peaceful villa.
Suddenly appears a small but bright light behind one of these dark windows.
That is the thief's lantern, which Joseph Ribas has lighted to illuminate his dark, criminal way.
