The Contessa's Vendetta (46 page)

“You honor me with that wish,” I said, as he put an arm around my waist and drew me close to him.

I led us toward the door that opened into the garden.
“Tell me, how did you manage to leave the ballroom?” I asked, unclenching my teeth.

“
Oh, easily, like I’ve done many times before. I slipped away from my partner at the end of the waltz, and told her I would return soon. Then I ran upstairs to my room, got my cloak, and here I am.” He laughed, evidently in the highest spirits.

“
I am glad you have agreed to come with me at all,” I murmured as gently as I could. “It is kind of you to humour me in this little journey. Did you see your valet? Does he know where you are going?”

“
He? Oh, no, he was not in my room at all. I dare say he is amusing himself with the kitchen maids. I hope he enjoys himself.”

I breathed freely
. So, no one would know of our whereabouts. We would be undiscovered. No one had as yet noticed our departure. No one had the least clue to my intentions. I gestured toward the door that led into the passage. Dario opened it and we passed through noiselessly. He paused to wrap my cloak more closely about me with feigned tenderness. I led him quickly across the garden. There was no one in sight. We were entirely unobserved. On reaching the exterior gate of the enclosure I asked Dario to summon a carriage.

“
I thought we were walking because it was not far,” he said with surprise.

“It isn’t far, but I wanted to spare us any fatigue. It has been a long day, and it will be a long night,”
I reassured.

Satisfied with this explanation, he assisted me into the carriage and followed me.

“To Villa Guarda,” I said as we rattled away over the rough uneven stones of the back streets of the city.

“
Villa Guarda?” exclaimed Dario. “Where is that?”

“
It is an old house,” I replied, “situated near the place I spoke to you of, where my jewels are.”

“
Oh!”

And apparently contented, he nestled back in the carriage, and put his arm around me, permitting my head to lightly on his shoulder. He drew me closer to him
and my heart beat with a fierce, terrible joy.

“
Mine at last!” I whispered to him. “Mine forever!”

He turned his face upward and smiled victoriously. His cool lips met mine in a close, passionate kiss.
Si
, I kissed him. Why should I not? He was as much mine as any purchased slave, but he deserved far less respect. He caressed me and I let him do so. I allowed him to think me utterly vanquished by his charms. Yet whenever I caught an occasional glimpse of his face as we drove along in the semi-darkness, I could not help wondering at his supreme vanity. His self-satisfaction was so complete, and, considering his approaching fate, so tragically absurd!

He was entirely delighted with himself, his fashionable clothing, and his conquest of me. Who could measure the height of the dazzling visions he indulged in? Who could fathom the depths of his utter selfishness?

Seeing someone like him, handsome, wealthy, and powerful, would not all less fortunate men feel somewhat envious?
Si,
they would and they do, but believe me, selfish males whose only cares are womanizing, gambling, and running carefree amongst society, should be despised and never desired. Their death has little impact, even in the circles of his so-called best friends.

I knew there was not a soul in Vicenza who was attached to my husband. Not one would miss him, no, not even a servant, though he, in his superb self-conceit, imagined himself to be the adored lord of the
entire city. Those who had indeed loved him, he had despised, neglected, and betrayed. Musingly, I looked up at him as he rested back in the carriage, his arm encircling me, while now and then a sigh of absolute delight in himself broke from his lips, but we spoke scarcely at all. Hate has almost as little to say as love!

The night was persistently stormy, though no rain fell. The gale had increased in strength, and the white moon only occasionally glared out from
behind masses of white and gray cloud that rushed across the sky. Moon rays shone dimly, like a spectral torch glimmering through a forest of shadow. Now and again bursts of music, or the blare of trumpets, reached our ears from the more distant streets where the people were still celebrating Fat Tuesday, or the tinkle of passing mandolins chimed in with the rolling wheels of our carriage. But in a few moments we were out of reach of even these sounds.

We passed the outer suburbs of the city and were soon on the open road. The man we had hired drove fast. He knew nothing
about us, and was probably anxious to get back to the crowded squares and illuminated quarters where the principal merriment of the evening was going on. No doubt he thought we showed poor taste in requiring to be driven out of Vicenza on such a night of feasting and folly. He stopped at last. The turrets of the villa were faintly visible among the trees. He jumped down from his box and came to us.

“
Shall I drive up to the house?” he asked, looking as though he would rather be spared this trouble.

“
The distance is short, we will walk,” I responded indifferently.

And I stepped out into the road and handed Dario the money
with which to pay for our fare. 

“
You seem anxious to get back to the city,” I said, half teasingly to the driver.

“
Si
, that is very true!” he replied. “I hope to get many a good fare from the contessa’s marriage ball tonight.”

“
The contessa is very rich,” I said as Dario assisted me to alight. He kept his cloak well muffled round him so that the driver would not notice the elegance of his smartly tailored clothes. “I wish I were her!”

The man grinned and nodded emphatically. He had no suspicion of my identity. He took us for a couple who had found each other at some public entertainment, and then hurried off carefully cloaked and hooded, to a mysterious nook known only to
ourselves to complete our romantic escape. Bidding us a lively
buona notte
, he sprung onto his box again, jerked his horse’s head violently round with a volley of oaths, and drove away at a rattling pace. Dario, standing on the road beside me, watched him drive away with a bewildered air.

“
Could he not have waited to take us back?” he asked.

“
No,” I answered, brusquely. “We will be returning by a different route. Come.” And taking him by the hand, I led him onward.

“
Have we much further to go?” There was an irritable tone in his voice.

“
A three minute walk will bring us to our destination,” I replied.

He grumbled something indiscernible
as he walked. The moon suddenly leaped forth through the clouds. Its rays spilled pallidly green and cold on the dreary stretch of land before us, casting a grim light upon the white tombstones of the
campo santo
, the cemetery.

My husband noticed them too and
stopped suddenly. “A cemetary?”

In all his life he had never visited a cemetery. He had always had too great a horror of death.

“It is where I keep all my treasures,” I answered, and my voice sounded strange and harsh in my own ears, while I tightened my grasp on his arm. “Come with me,” and in spite of my efforts, my tone was one of bitter mockery. “If I, an old woman, am not afraid, then you, a strong man, should not be.”

And I led him on, unable to resist my determined pace, too startled to speak. On and on over the rank dewy grass and unmarked ancient graves. On till the low frowning gate of the house of my dead ancestors faced me. On, on, on, with the strength of ten devils in my
hand as I gripped his arm. On, on, on, to his awaiting doom!

As quickly as it had appeared, the moon
retreated behind a dense wall of cloud. Semi-darkness once more enveloped the landscape. Reaching the gate of the vault, I unlocked it. It opened instantly, and fell back with a sudden clang. He whose arm I held with my iron grip shrunk back, and strove to release himself from my grasp.

“
Where are you going?” he demanded, in a faint tone. “This is madness! Aren’t you afraid?”

“
Of what?” I asked, endeavoring to control my voice and to speak without a shred of concern. “Because it is dark? Bah, we will have light very shortly, you will see.” And to my own surprise I broke into a loud and coarse laugh. “You have no cause to be frightened! Come!” And I stepped swiftly and easily over the stone step of the entrance, pulling him along behind me.

Inside at last, thank Heaven! I shut the gate
behind us and locked it. Again that strange undesired laugh broke from my lips involuntarily, and the echoes of the charnel house responded to it with unearthly and ghastly distinctness. Dario stood perfectly still in the dense gloom.

“
Why do you laugh like that?” he demanded loudly and impatiently. “It sounds horrible.”

I
t took all my effort to keep myself in check. “Does it? I am very sorry. I laugh because our moonlight ramble is so mysterious and amusing, is it not?” And I stepped into his arms and kissed him deeply. “Now,” I whispered, “Step carfully for the steps are rough. We are going down into the grotto where all my jewels and money are. And it is all ours, yours and mine, my love, my husband!”

And I led him down into the deep vault. Whether he tried to resist me or not I cannot now remember. I pulled him down the moldering stairway, setting my foot on each crooked step with the firmness of
someone long familiar with the place.

But my brain reeled. Rings of red fire circled in the darkness before my eyes. Every artery in my body seemed strained to bursting. The pent-up agony and fury of my soul were such that I thought I should go mad or drop down dead
before I could see my plan to its completion. As I descended I felt his hand turn cold and clammy in mine, as though he were chilled to the blood with terror. At last I reached the lowest step and my foot touched the floor of the vault. I released my grasp of his arm and I remained still for a moment, breathing heavily.

He caught my arm and
and gripped it. “What place is this? Where is the light you spoke of?”

I
gave him no answer as I moved from his side. With the tinderbox from my purse, I lighted up a brazier and one of six candles that I had earlier placed in various corners of the vault the previous night. The light was minimal and the vault was still cast in gloom. I did not yet want him to understand the nature of the place in which he stood. Still wrapped in my heavy cloak and hood that disguised my features, I watched him. What a sight he was in that abode of corruption! Striking, hale, and full of life, with the shine of gold gleaming from under the folds of rich fur that shrouded him. His gaze never left mine as I came to stand before him. With my hand, I gently brushed his cheek. With my fingers, I sensually traced his lips.

My husband sucked in a deep
breath, letting himself get lost in the temptation of my touch. I spread his cloak apart and placed both palms on his chest, letting them roam downward, tracing a trail down to his middle.

He reciprocated and opened my mantle.

The gown I had chosen to wear permitted my breasts to spill over the edge of the fabric; a gown considered indecent by society’s standards.

By his reaction, I knew he was enjoying my little act of seduction. He took me in his arms and kissed me hard on the lips
, slipping his tongue into my waiting mouth.

I
broke the kiss, and held his head in my hands as his kisses warmed my neck. “Are you ready for your surprise?” I whispered seductively in his ear. “I have some wicked things I want to do to you. If you are man enough, I can begin immediately.”

Lust glowed in his eyes. Oblivious of
the actual game I was about to unleash, he chuckled. “Let the games begin.”

“
Very well,” I smiled. “Remove your mask and close your eyes.”