The Iola register., 1891-10-16
THE VENDETTA,
OF
The Story of One Forgotten
BY MARIE. CORELL1.
CHAPTER XxXII.

- WOT1Q comes 10 Dlm
who knows how to wait / knew this,
and had waited, and my world-a
world Of vengeance-came to me at last.
The slow-revolving wheel of Time
brought me 20 the day before my strange
wedding,-the eve of my remsrriage
with my own wifel All the preparations
Fere made, notning was left un-
fons that could add to the splen-
four Of the occasion. For though
he nuptial ceremony was 20 be
lonewhat quiet ard private in charac-
lsr, and the marriage was to
Include only q few Of our more intimate
aeouaintauce, the proceedings were by
10 means TO terminate tamely. The ro-
nance Of these remarkable espousals
was not to find its conclusion in pathos.
No; the bloom and aroma OF the inter-
ssting event were to be enjoyed in the
evening, when grand supper and ball.
given By me, the happy and much-to-be-
snvied bridegroom, was to take place in
the hotel which had made my resid idence
for so long. No expense was spared for
this, the last entertainment offered by
ne in my brilliant career as the success
full Count Cessre Olivia. After IL, the
dark curtain would fall on the played
Everything that art, taste and royal
luxury could suggest was included in the
arrangements for this brilliant ball, to
which q hundred and fifty guests had
been invited, not one OF whom had re-
fused TO attend.
And now-nov, in the afternoon oil
this the last day of my sclf-imposed pro-
bstion-I sat alone with my fair wife in
hA ~ In nf ho
cenversing lightly on various subjects
connected with the festivities of the
coming morrow. The long windows
were open-the warm spring sunlight
lay like ilmy veil of woven gold on the
tender green of the young grass, birds
sang for Joy and fitted from branch to
branch, now poising hoveringly above
their nests, now soaring with all the
luxury of perfect liberty into the high
heaven of cloudless blue-the great
creamy buds ofithe magnolia looked
ready to burst into wide and splendid
flower between their large, darkly
shining leaves, the odor of violets and
primroses foated on every delicious
breath of air, and round the wide ver-
Rndah the climbing white china roses
had already unfurled their little crumpled
1t was spring in Southern Italv-spring
in the land where, above all other lands,
spring is lovely-sudden and brilliant in
its beauty as might be the smile of
happy angel Gran Dio!-talk of angels!
Had not veritable angel for my COM
panion at that momenti What fair being
even in Mahomet Paradise OF Houris,
could outshine such charms as those
soA - rf,,t1n 20
upon without rebuke-dark eyes,
ripping golden hair, dazzling
and perfect face, a form to tempt
the virtue of Galahad, and lips that an
emperor might long to touch in vain?
Well, no, not altogether in vain?
if his Imperial Majesty could offer a
bribe large enough, let US say diamond
the size of pigeons egg, he might pos
sibly purchase one, naY!-perhaps two
kisses from that seductive red mouth.
sweeter than the -ripest strawberry. l
glanced at her furtively from time to
time when she was not aware of my
gaze; and glad was of the sheltering
protection of the dark glasses wore,
for knew and felt that there was ter
rible look in my eyes-the look OF
half-famished tiger ready to spring on
some lons-desired piece of prey. She
herself was exceptionally bright and
cheerful; with her riante features and
agile movements, she reminded me of
some tropical bird of gorgeous plunage
swaying to and fro on a branch of
equally gorgeous blossom.
You are like prince in fairy tale,
Cesare," she said with little delighted
laugh; everything you do is superbly
done! How pleasant it is to be so rich,
there is nothing better in all the
world"
Except love!" 1 returned, with a
grim attempt to be sentimental.
Her large eyes softened like the
pleading eyes Of tame fawn.
'tAb, yes!' and she smiled with ex-
pressiye tenderness, except love. But
when one has both love aud wealth,
what a paradise life can be-"
$50 great a paradise" / assented,
''that it is hardly worth while trying to
get into heaven at all! VIII you
make earth heaven for me, Nina mia?
or will you only love me as much,-or
as little,-as you loved your late hus-
band?''
She shrugged her shoulders and pouted
like spoilt child.
"Wby are you so fond Of talking about
my late husband, Cesare?' she asked
Peevishly; 81 am so tired of his name!
Besides, one does not always care to be
reminded of dead people-and he died
so horribly too! / have often told
you that did not love him at all. /
liked him a little, and 1 was quite i'll
when that dreadful monk. who looked
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