Prince Eugene and His Times Part 105

"How long?" asked he, almost inaudibly.

"If it were any other woman, I should expect internal hemorrhage to ensue within half an hour; but the strong will of the marchioness will ward off death for the s.p.a.ce of an hour."

Eugene stifled a groan. "O G.o.d! is there no, no help?"

"None. Science cannot prevail against the well-directed blow of a Venetian dagger. But the marchioness will not suffer."

"No," sobbed Eugene, "for she dies; but I--I--"

"Go to her, my dear friend--go before she calls, for every exertion she makes will hasten the end."

Eugene wrung his hands. "Not yet--I cannot. I must have a moment to conquer this overwhelming anguish. Go to her yourself, doctor--tell her--I--"

But the doctor was already in the parlor, and Eugene was alone. He leaned over the balcony and stared out at the sea; the breeze had freshened, and the sound of the waves as they dashed against the sh.o.r.e seemed to mock at his agony. He looked above: the skies were serene and indifferent to his misery. The sun was setting in a flood of red and gold. Alas! alas! For Laura, it would rise no more!

But Eugene remembered that she had but an hour to live, and, shuddering, he overcame his weakness and approached the dying girl.

She held out her hands, and smiled.

"Eugene," said she, "I long for air and light. May I be lifted out upon the balcony?"

Eugene looked at Doctor Franzi, who beckoned to the servants. They rolled a divan to the spot where the marchioness lay, and she was placed upon it, and gently removed to the balcony. She thanked them all for their kindness, and each member of her household kissed her hand, and went away weeping. No one now remained with her save Eugene and the doctor.

"Step aside for a moment, beloved," said she. "I would speak a few words with our dear friend."

He obeyed, and retired out of hearing, but not out of sight. He could not do that. They had but half an hour!

"Doctor," said Laura, "I must die, must I not?"

"All things are possible with G.o.d, but--"

Her eyes filled with tears. "Does Eugene know it?"

"Alas, he does!"

"Doctor, promise me that if in his grief he should forget to care for his own welfare, you will watch over it as I would have done, had Heaven permitted. As long as sorrow predominates over reason, you will enter his room every morning, and speak these, my dying words: 'Laura sends you her greeting, and bids you do all that you can to preserve your health, and to overcome your sorrow.' Promise me this."

"I promise," replied the doctor.

"And now, tell me. Is my enemy--is Strozzi dead?"

"The bullet went through his brain."

"May G.o.d forgive him, as I do!" murmured she. "And now, dear friend, farewell! I thank you for all my happiness on earth, and bless you with my latest breath for your kindness to Eugene and to me."

[Footnote: This attempt to poison Prince Eugene is historical.]

She gave him her hand, which he kissed, and, no longer able to restrain his tears, he went back to the parlor. There on the floor lay Strozzi stark and dead, his glazed eyes staring, as if in defiance, to heaven. Doctor Franzi had the corpse removed, and threw himself wearily upon a sofa. Presently he saw Laura's Italian greyhound, with a piece of paper between its teeth, with which it seemed to be playing. He was watching its motions, as people whose minds are preoccupied with a great sorrow, are apt to watch some particular object within view, when suddenly it howled, made a leap into the air, and fell panting on the floor. The doctor stooped to examine it. It was dying.

"Why, the poor little brute has been poisoned!" said he to Conrad.

Conrad shook his head. "Impossible!" replied he. "It has been with me this whole day, and came with me hither not half an hour since."

"Stay," replied the doctor, picking up the bits of paper that lay scattered over the carpet. He took them to the light, and held them above it. In a few moments a white vapor mingled with green was seen to rise in the air, and an odor of garlic pervaded the apartment.

"Come, Conrad," exclaimed the doctor; "leave the room quickly! Happy it is for us that all these doors and windows are open, or my curiosity would have cost me my life."

"And the marchioness?" asked Conrad, sadly.

The little French clock on the mantel struck the hour. "You hear,"

said the doctor. "She has not a half an hour to live."

Not half an hour to live! And Eugene knew it! For above the breaking waves, above the tumultuous beating of his bleeding heart, even above the tones of her dear voice, he heard the striking of that clock.

But one half hour!--He was on his knees, her little hand locked in his, and her eyes fixed upon his face, with a look of love such as no human tongue had power to speak. But he could not bear to see her so motionless; he feared that she was about to expire.

"Speak to me, my angel; say thou lovest me," sobbed he.

"I love thee!" said she, with a joyful smile. "Ah, Eugene, I have spoken these words so often that earth and air, sky and sea, will echo them forever."

"But thou--thou goest from me!"

"G.o.d has willed it thus. But, beloved, how beautiful to me is the death that giveth life to thee! Ah, my sovereign! lord of my heart!

weep not for her who dies as woman loves to die!"

"Weep not for thee! Alas! shall I have courage to bear the burden of the life thou hast purchased with thine own?"

"Yes, G.o.d will give thee strength to fulfil thy heroic destiny, my Eugene. We have been very happy on earth, and in heaven He will perfect our imperfect union. Farewell, beloved, farewell!"

"Oh, look at me once more!" cried Eugene. "Laura, Laura, speak to me! O G.o.d! it cannot be that thou must die!"

She made no answer, but her fast-closing eyes were fixed upon his.

He bent closer and closer, and opened his arms, with a vain longing to fold her to his heart. But he durst not! His embrace might extinguish the feeble spark of life that glimmered yet for his momentary consolation.

But his tears fell upon her face, and awakened her failing senses.

She spoke again, and the melody of her voice was like the faint notes of an AEolian harp.

"Do not weep," murmured she. "I was happy. I will be near to thee in spirit. I--"

A last sigh fluttered from her lips, and the AEolian harp was silenced forever!

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BETROTHAL.

The d.u.c.h.ess of Orleans sat weeping in her cabinet, and yet she had been several times reminded by her tire-women that monsieur awaited her in the drawing-room. She held in her hand a letter--the apparent cause of her unwillingness to move.