CHAPTER III.

@ Alack, ’tis he. Why, he was met even now As mad as the vex’d sea.”—Zear,
IN the Rue de la Paix there resided an English lawyer of eminence, with whom Maltravers had had previous dealings,—to this gentleman he now drove. He acquainted him with the news he had just heard, respecting the bankruptcy of Mr. Douce; and commissioned him to leave Paris, the first moment he could obtain a passport, and to proceed to London. At all events, he would arrive there some hours before Maltravers ; and those hours were something gained. This done, he drove to the nearest hotel, which chanced to be the Hotel de M , where, though he knew it not, it so happened that Lord Vargrave him- self lodged. As his carriage stopped without, while the porter unclosed the gates, a man, who had been loitering under the lamps, darted forward, and prying into the carriage-window, regarded Maltravers earnestly. The latter, pre-occupied and absorbed, did not notice him ; but when the carriage drove inta the court-yard it was followed by the stranger, who was muffled
‘a worn and tattered cloak, and whose movements were unheeded amidst the bustle of the arrival. The porter’s wife led _ the way to a second-floor, just left vacant, and the waiter began _ to arrange the fire. Maltravers threw himself abstractedly upon _ the sofa, insensible to all around him—when, lifting his eyes, he saw before him the countenance of Cesarini! The Italian y (supposed, perhaps, by the persons of the hotel, to be one of the new comers) was leaning over the back of a chair, supporting his face with his hand, and fixing his eyes with an earnest and — sorrowful expression upon the features of his ancient rival. _ When he perceived that he was recognised, he approached
Maltravers, and said in Italian, and in a low voice, “You arethe man of all others, whom, save one, I most desired to see. I have much to say to you, and my time is short. Spare me a few minutes.”
The tone and manner of Cesarini were so calm and rational — that they changed the first impulse of Maltravers, which was
that of securing a maniac: while the Italian’s emaciated coun- — tenance—his squalid garments—the air of penury and want - diffused over his whole appearance—irresistibly invited com- — passion. With all the more anxious and pressing thoughts that weighed upon him, Maltravers could not refuse the conference thus demanded. He dismissed the attendants, and motioned Cesarini to be seated.
The Italian drew near to the fire, which now blazed brightiy — and cheerily, and, spreading his thin hands to the flame, seemed to enjoy tbe physical luxury of the warmth. “Cold—cold,” he said pitcously, as to himself; “ Nature is a very bitter protector. E _ But frost. and famine are, at least, more merciful than slavery ‘and darkness.”
At this moment Ernest’s servant entered to know if his master would not take refreshments, for he had scarcely touched food
upon the road. And, as he spoke, Cesarini turned keenly and wistfully round. There was no mistaking the appeal. Wine and cold meat were ordered: and when the servant vanished, Cesarini turned to Maltravers with a strange smile, and said,— “You see what the love of liberty brings men to! They found me plenty in the gaoi! But I have read of men who feasted
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ai R t Sey t SES Fels a oe Be Sd & er ate
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a oes ‘ i mot 5 5 weer
Tne Sakae ca A FO
EOE EMA SC TMT bys Ae gat 9 ine a a _ ALICE; OR THE MYSTERIES, —
ae ; SUERAEE coca a merrily before execution—have not you ?—and my hour is at
hand. All this day I have felt chained by an irresistible destiny Bs
to this house. But it was not you I sought; no matter, in crisis of our doom all its agents meet-together. It is the act of a dreary play!”
the last
The Italian turned again to the fire, and bent over it, muttering
to himself. Maltravers remained silent and thoughtful. Now was
the
moment once more to place the maniac under the kindly vigi-
lance of his family—to snatch him from the horrors, perh
aps,
of starvation itself, to which his escape condemned him: if he
could detain Cesarini till De Montaigne could arrive! Agreeably to this thought, he quietly drew towards him
the
portfolio which had been laid on the table—and, Cesarini’s back still turned to him, wrote a hasty line to De Montaigne. When his servant re-entered with the wine and viands, Maltravers followed him out of the room, and bade him see the note sent
immediately. On returning, he found Cesarini devouring
the
food before him with all the voracity of famine. It was a dreadful sight!—the intellect ruined—the mind darkened—the
_wild, fierce, animal, alone left !
When Cesarini had appeased his hunger, he drew near to
Maltravers, and thus accosted him :— “T must lead you back to the past. I sinned against you
and
the dead : but Heaven has avenged you, and me you can pity and forgive. Maltravers, there is another more guilty than I— but proud, prosperous, and great. 77s crime Heaven has left to the revenge of man !—I bound myself by an oath not to reveal _ his villany. I cancel the oath now, for the knowledge of it should survive his life and mine. And, mad though they deem me—the mad are prophets—and a solemn conviction, a voice not of earth, tells me that he and I are already in the Shadew
of Death.”
Here Cesarini, with a calm and precise accuracy of self- possession-—~a minuteness of circumstance and detail, that, coming from one whose very eyes betrayed his terrible disease,
was infinitely thrilling in its effect,—related the counsels, persuasions, the stratagems of Lumley, Slowly and distin
the ctly
. Peat woe e z
e forced into the heart of Maltravers that sickening record . cold fraud, calculating on vehement passion as its tool; and thus he concluded his narration :— wee _ “Now wonder no longer why I have lived till this hour—why ‘I have clung to freedom, through want and hunger, amidst - beggars, felons, and outcasts! In that freedom was my last hope ths hope of revenge!” a
Maltravers returned no answer for some moments. At length he said calmly, “Cesarini, there are injuries so great that they defy revenge. Let us alike, since we are alike injured, trust our cause to Him who reads all hearts, and, better than we can do, e ‘measures both crime and itsexcuses. You think that our enemy has not suffered—that he has gone free. We know not his in- | ternal history—prosperity and power are no signs of happiness, - they bring no exemption from care. Be soothed and be ruled, Cesarini. Let the stone once more close over the solemn grave. — : Turn with me to the future; and let us rather seek to be the judges of ourselves, than the executioners of another.” Cesarini listened gloomily, and was about to answer, when—— But here we must return to Lord Vargrave. nt
en