The record-union., 1897-10-17
The TORTURE OF FEAR.
A Nights Adventure in Venice.


OF "A, moneyed and cosmopolitan. The
way in which he dashed away his haAr,
which dropped from the parting, was
characteristic of him: his blue eyes
were quite alert; his blood fresh and
brisk But woman, somehow, had hith-
erto engaged little of the interest of his
free manhood. She, he guessed, would
come; and meantime the bustling world
has a keen concern and pleasure to him.
Till, on the third day of the carnival,
he beheld a chin, white between the
draperies Of a gondola cabin; and this
he followed.
Venice, the mysterious! By Gfovedi
Grasso (Shrove Tuesday, he had al
ready brushed the lips above the chin,
and was told that he did it in peril OF
his life That was a great carnival
night, the Venetians in wild fete. Gid
ing eastward he could hear the revelry
from the place of St. Mark, and at IL
was at the old Procurator Palace,
where a municipal masquerade was in
full gala reel. By i he had left the
roulette room and descended a stair
way, and walked on the tufted carpet
of a dim corridor. He found himself
aione-wih her.
Her bosom heaved. Her eyes were
like bright, black moons behind her
mask.
''Listen-I was foolish, you see. We
cannot speak here. These tassels may
be ears-believe me-
To him it was Incredible. He was
unable to sympathize with her agita-
ton. Yet that chin, the emphasis of
these tones, could hardly appertain TO
one given over to fancies. She posed
with one projected slipper, the other
hip supporting her palm. He stood ad-
miring the dash and curve of her, the
young full figure clasped in a trafnless
dress of amber silk. A tabura, or man
tilla of black lace f1uttered from her
head.
But, Belvidera, I say, do not agitate
yourself f'-with tenderness new to his
voice; what I had to say is this: They
have summoned me back to England
soon. Am 1 to go alone? If you are
beset with dangers, as you say, that is
the more reason-''
Dangers ?''-her fan touched his arm
but not to me-Harold. 1t is for
you 1 fear-dear. He dares not hurt
me, you see? His motives for wishing
me dead are too evident, and there is
law, isn't there? But Won. Won
cannot guess Mauro Bellini's powers
the number Of his sworn emissaries-
Dear love, what enissaries? He can
have no power over me-
She whispered, t"They are members
of the Banda! He looks upon himself
as the last Of the old nobility, and the
design of his life has been the enthrone-
nent of himself in the old majesty of
the Doges. AS it is, he is Chief Magis-
trate. Hence the League-it includes
all classes; he knows that I know of it.
and secretly fears me. Guesses that [,
too, have friends, servants-II But
you must not think that he will be
lightly baked in his life-work-in his
old age-by a whin1, as he certainly
considers our love-Harold-'
But I am innocent of desire to balk
this old boy In anything whateverl
Personally, do not care a rush"
1T is all question of money, you
seei You see? You know that my
wealth is wonderful? All, you did not
know! It is for myself only, is it not?
good you are! But it is in his
hands, dear-till I marry. That by my
fathers will, you perceive? Meanwhile
I am Mauro Bellini's niece and ward.
My money is his power-the power Of
the Banda. My lover is, to him, the
deadIest foe Of Venice. He will destroy
a thousand lives, and he can, if they
interfere with his dream"
but the question is this, Belvidera;
l. low Loo Nay7,-
ice, with or without the consent of this
old gentleman"
But yes, if it is possible, without
sacrificing you! Look there! did you
see the tapestry stir? 1 have much to
say to you-at one-meet me-you know
the archwaY near the porch of Santa
Maria Della Saluta-"
The tapestry parted, and signore
in evening dress sauntered toward
them. He bowed profusely. Belvidera
held up a finger to Brand with a whis-
pered "One," and walked after the
stranger. As Brand ascended once
more to the halls, the, throng had form
ed a lane down which paced an old
man gorgeous in cramoisy velvet. The
double line of heads went undulating
at his advance. like foliage before a
a nEl2nDOT
that this was Mauro Bellini himself.
The candle-light illustrated the thou
sand Fuckers of the skinny face, the
mouth, whose lips had inclined inward
to a crevice; but the bald brow told OF
mental majesty. Some great priest he
seemed more than a civil dignitary.
AS he passed, his head deliberately
turned and directed upon the rosy face
Of Brand a warning gaze. Brand, sur
prised, returned the look with frown
Of coolest insolence. It was a chal-
lenge and its answer.
IL
Before the stroke Of one, behind a
turret OF Santa Maria, two men lurked
One, a Moor named Ali, a squat OK,
with corded throat and huge jaw; the
other was Ronaldo, the signore of the
profuse bow in the corridor
But Belvidera was again in the cor
ridor, even while the challenge of eyes
was being exchanged in the halls above
looking in agonized concern for Brand
Despairing. she darted out into the
piazza She reached the Merceria,
down which she sped. In a lane she
stopped and uttered a kind of yodel;
a door opened, and a tall old woman
with scattered hair stood shading a
diamond glittered on a fnger-the gift
of Belvidera-
"FBresciaI quick-put that lamp down.
You have to be at Santa Maria before
onei"
Yes Signorfna-''
''The Englishman-you knows in