Part 37

Years passed away. Reginald Di Venoni grew into manhood. He had become a self-willed, passionate, gloomy man, who avoided his mother--now an old and decrepid woman--and made no secret of the fact that he disliked her. For a long time he had abandoned himself to the pleasures of the chase, and he tried to give some colour and tone to his gloomy and monotonous life by riotous living.

One evening he had been out hunting, and having got separated from his followers, he was returning alone when, on reaching the ruins of Rudstein, his horse shied, and Reginald beheld a weird-looking old man standing amidst the ruins. His hair was white, and he had a long, grey beard.

‘Who are you?’ demanded Reginald boldly, for he was courageous and daring to recklessness at times.

‘One who has watched you from childhood, and who would now speak into your ear words of wisdom. Make your horse fast to that tree and follow me.’

Curiosity, no less than some spell which he seemed incapable of resisting, prompted him to do the bidding of the stranger, who led the way up the mouldering stairs of the tower. On arriving at the top he threw open a door and revealed an apartment, the floor of which was strewn with books written in strange characters. In one corner stood a large vase engraved with the signs of the Zodiac, and encircled by mysterious letters. A huge telescope was placed in the centre of the room, and pointed through a small aperture in the ceiling. As the old man entered he took up an ebony wand from a table near and with it drew circles in the air, then, turning to Reginald, said in a solemn and warning voice:

‘Man of ill-starred fortune, you were born under an unlucky planet, and your future is involved in darkness. But for the sake of her whom I loved, your aunt, the Lady Hilda, I would save you from your doom.’

Reginald laughed somewhat scornfully. Although he was not without superstition he placed little faith in the wild stories which he had heard from his childhood, and he was in the habit of saying that there was little that was called supernatural that could not be explained by natural laws.

‘Ah, now I remember you,’ he exclaimed. ‘Years ago, when I was a child, you came to my mother’s castle. You frightened me then, and strangely impressed me.’

‘And yet why should that have been?’ asked the stranger. ‘I was a simple student of the occult, and was travelling the world in quest of knowledge. I had heard something of your family. I knew the curse that rested upon your house, and even then I would have tried to avert it; but your mother would have set her dogs upon me as she set her menials. To your aunt I owed my life, and my love for her grew. By my advice she took you away to the capital, but that act cost her her life. For her sake I would now save you. Since her death I have made long journeys into different countries, but have always been drawn back here by some influence I could not resist. My days, nay, my hours are numbered now; but before I join the sweet Lady Hilda I would render you a service.’

Reginald was far from impressed, and laughed again, saying:

‘It is kind of you, but suppose I decline your good offices. Indeed, I am capable of taking care of myself and my fortunes; and, frankly, do not desire any service at the hands of a half-witted imposter, as I believe you to be. For myself, I have no belief either in God or Devil, therefore am not likely to be frightened by anything you can tell me or anything you can do.’

The old man’s face assumed a look of sorrow and distress, and, speaking in a voice that betrayed his emotion, he said:

‘Sad indeed it is that you should lack reverence. But have a care, have a care! I warn you against infidelity, and against those sins which, if indulged in, will bring you to ruin. Listen, I say, and take heed. The star of your destiny already wanes in the heavens, and the fortunes of the proud family of Venoni must decline with it. When the stars shine to-night look to the west, and you will see your planet, distinguishable by its unusual brilliancy. Look to it, I say, and let your thoughts wander from it to the God who rules the universe, and to Him put up a prayer of repentance and a cry for light and guidance. But should you see a dull red meteor shoot across the face of your star of nativity, it will be a sign that a deed of blood will be done, and you will perpetrate it.’

For a moment or two Reginald was really impressed by the awe-inspiring tone and manner of the old man. But once more he broke into a scornful laugh, and said:

‘If this is all you have brought me here for, you do but waste my time, and I will depart.’

‘Go!’ answered the old man. ‘You pronounce your doom. But let me exact a promise from you. On the night of the third day from now return to this apartment, and, if you find me dead, give my body Christian burial.’

‘Yes; you shall have burial, as one of my dogs should,’ Reginald replied. ‘But since you are an unwelcome tenant in this ruined tower, which is part of my property, I shall give instructions to have you driven away. However, as you confess to having liked my aunt, whom I loved better than I loved my mother, I will see that you do not want. You shall be furnished with means sufficiently ample to enable you to live where your inclinations prompt, only you must quit the tower.’

‘This is my living place, as it is to be my death place,’ exclaimed the old man. ‘And again I charge you, return here in three days, or fail at your peril.’

Reginald was exasperated. His temper was aroused now, as he thought the old man was defying him, and he strode hastily from the room, hurried down the stairs, and, flinging himself on his horse, galloped to the castle, with the intention of giving orders to eject the strange old man from the tower at once. But by the time he reached the courtyard he had changed his mind, and he could not help confessing to himself that some indefinable sense of fear restrained him. At any rate, he would let the old fellow remain where he was for a few days longer.

Three days passed away, and the night came. Then Reginald remembered the man’s request; at first he had no intention of returning to the ruins. As the evening wore on, however, he felt impelled by a feeling of overmastering curiosity to pay another visit to the wizard, if wizard he was. So, without making known his intention to anyone, he armed himself with a formidable spear used in boar hunting, and, calling his faithful boarhound ‘Wanga’ to his side, he set off for the tower.

The night was beautifully fine. The air was still, the sky was cloudless, the stars shone with extraordinary brilliancy. As Reginald pursued his way he looked to the west, and saw an unusually bright star, and knew, according to what the old man had told him, that it was the star of his nativity. He reached the ruins in about half an hour’s rapid walking. A weird silence seemed to pervade the place. No light was visible. There wasn’t a sign of the old man’s existence. Reginald told ‘Wanga’ to precede him up the mouldering stairs, but the great hound whined and drew back and crouched at his master’s feet, and remained unmoved even by the vigorous kick which his master gave him. So, with a muttered oath, Reginald mounted the stairs alone. He pushed open the door and peered in. The window of the chamber was screened by a curtain, on a shelf burned a small lamp, at the table sat the old man. He was dressed in a suit of black velvet embroidered with gold, while round his waist was a massive belt of silver. He wore a skull-cap on his head, in his thin white hand he grasped the ebony rod, while the index finger of the right hand was fixed on a passage in an open book that lay on the table before him.

Reginald spoke to him. There was no answer, no movement. For the first time he felt a sense of fear. He spoke again, but still no answer came. He advanced a few steps into the room.

‘Do you not see I am here?’ he exclaimed.

The old man rose up, not as a living being, but like a mechanical figure. The face was the face of a corpse. The eyes were dull and glazed, but for an instant they lighted up as they turned upon the speaker, though the light faded immediately, and without a sound the old man sank to the floor, dead.

The situation was so weird, so ghastly, so dramatic, that Reginald’s fears were now fully aroused, and with a suppressed moan of horror he turned and fled. The dog was still crouching at the foot of the stairs, but rose with a cry of joy as his master appeared. As Reginald left the ruins he glanced at the west. His star of nativity was burning brilliantly, but suddenly a dull red meteor shot across it, and remembering then the old man’s prophecy, he was so overcome that he dropped senseless to the ground in a faint. In a few minutes, finding that something was wrong, the faithful hound rushed back to the castle, and by his howling and barking attracted attention. When the servants hurried to the great gateway he indicated that something was wrong; so torches were procured and the dog was followed to where his master still lay insensible on the ground. He was raised up and carried back, but when he came to his senses he was in a raging fever. He frequently became delirious, and in the hour of his lunacy was accustomed to talk of an evil spirit that had visited him in his slumbers. His mother was shocked at such evident symptoms of derangement. She remembered the fate of her husband, and implored Reginald, as the last descendant of a great house, to recruit his health and raise his spirits by travel. Only with great difficulty was he induced to quit the home of his infancy. The expostulations of his mother, however, at last prevailed, and he left the Castle di Venoni for the sunny land of Italy.

Months passed, and a constant succession of novelty had produced so beneficial an effect, that scarcely any traces remained of the mysterious malady which had so suddenly overtaken him. Occasionally, however, his mind was disturbed and gloomy, but a perpetual recurrence of amusement diverted the influence of past recollection, and rendered him at least as tranquil as it was in the power of his nature to permit. He continued for years abroad, during which time he wrote frequently to his mother, who still continued at the Castle di Venoni, and at last announced his intention of settling at Venice. He had remained but a few months in the city, when, at the gay period of the Carnival, he was introduced, as a foreign nobleman, to the beautiful daughter of the Doge. She was amiable, accomplished, and endowed with every requisite to ensure permanent felicity. Reginald was charmed with her beauty, and infatuated with the excelling qualities of her mind. After a time he confessed his attachment, and was informed with a blush that the affection was mutual. Nothing, therefore, remained but application to the Doge, who was instantly addressed on the subject, and implored to consummate the felicity of the young couple. The request was attended with success, and the happiness of the lovers was complete.

On the day fixed for the wedding, a brilliant assemblage of beauty thronged the ducal palace of St. Mark. All Venice crowded to the festival, and, in the presence of the gayest noblemen of Italy, Reginald Count di Venoni received the hand of Marcelia, the envied daughter of the Doge. In the evening, a masqued festival was given at the palace; but the young couple, anxious to be alone, escaped from the scene of revelry, and hurried in a gondola to the old palace that had been prepared for their reception on the grand canal.

It was a fine moonlight night. The stars were reflected in the silver bosom of the Adriatic. The sounds of music and sweet voices singing, mellowed and softened by distance, were wafted to them on the gentle breeze. Venice seemed to glitter with tens of thousands of lamps, and the gondoliers, as they passed and repassed, uttered their peculiar cries.