y dealt, but significant glance,
afforded me the clew I so ardently sought. And yet it struck me that she
often cast furtive and uneasy, or rather searching looks hither and
thither, as if to seek and single out some one individual in the
multitudes moving about the illuminated gardens. She was certainly
pre-occupied, and even mournful, but I affected not to observe that a
cloud hung over her spirits, and in order to throw her completely off
her guard, I talked and laughed quite as gayly as was my wont. To be
brief, the festivities terminated a little before sunrise, and I
conducted the countess back to our mansion. From that night forth I
maintained the strictest watch upon her conduct and proceedings. I
appointed Margaretha, the mother of my page Antonio, to act the spy upon
her; but weeks and months passed, and nothing occurred to confirm the
terrible suspicion that haunted me night and day. I strove to banish
that suspicion from my mind--Heaven knows how hard I tried to crush it.
But it was immortal--and it beset me as if it were the ghost of some
victim I had ruthlessly murdered. Vitangela saw that my manner had
somewhat changed toward her, and she frequently questioned me on the
subject. I, however, gave her evasive answers, for I should have been
ashamed to acknowledge my suspicion if it were false, and it was only by
keeping her off her guard I should receive confirmation if it were true.
Thus nearly nine months passed away from the date of the ducal banquet,
and then you, Francisco, were born. The presence of an heir to my name
and wealth was a subject of much congratulation on the part of my
friends; but to me it was a source of torturing doubts and racking
fears. You never bore the least--no, not the least resemblance, either
physical or mental, to me; whereas the very reverse was the case with
Nisida, even in her infancy. From the moment of your birth--from the
first instant that I beheld you in the nurse's arms--the most agonizing
feelings took possession of my soul. Were you indeed my son?--or were
you the pledge of adulterous love? Merciful heavens! in remembering all
I suffered when the terrible thoughts oppressed me, I wonder that you,
Francisco, should now be alive--that I did not strangle you as you lay
in your cradle. And, oh God! how dearly I could have loved you,
Francisco, had I felt the same confidence in your paternity as in that
of your sister Nisida! But no--all was at least doubt and uncertaint