hould I mourn the
loss of a love I never possessed? It was not as if they had waited till
my supposed sudden death--no! within three months of my marriage they
had fooled me; for three whole years they had indulged in their
criminal amour, while I, blind dreamer, had suspected nothing. NOW I
knew the extent of my injury; I was a man bitterly wronged, vilely
duped. Justice, reason, and self-respect demanded that I should punish
to the utmost the miserable tricksters who had played me false. The
passionate tenderness I had felt for my wife was gone--I plucked it
from my heart as I would have torn a thorn from my flesh--I flung it
from me with disgust as I had flung away the unseen reptile that had
fastened on my neck in the vault. The deep warm friendship of years I
had felt for Guido Ferrari froze to its very foundations--and in its
place there rose up, not hate, but pitiless, immeasurable contempt. A
stern disdain of myself also awoke in me, as I remembered the
unreasoning joy with which, I had hastened--as I thought--home, full of
eager anticipation and Romeo-like ardor. An idiot leaping merrily to
his death over a mountain chasm was not more fool than I! But the dream
was over--the delusion of my life was passed. I was strong to avenge--I
would be swift to accomplish. So, darkly musing for an hour or more, I
decided on the course I had to pursue, and to make the decision final I
drew from my breast the crucifix that the dead monk Cipriano had laid
with me in my coffin, and kissing it, I raised it aloft, and swore by
that sacred symbol never to relent, never to relax, never to rest, till
I had brought my vow of just vengeance to its utmost fulfillment. The
stars, calm witnesses of my oath, eyed me earnestly from their judgment
thrones in the quiet sky--there was a brief pause in the singing of the
nightingales, as though they too listened--the wind sighed plaintively,
and scattered a shower of jasmine blossoms like snow at my feet. Even
so, I thought, fall the last leaves of my white days--days of pleasure,
days of sweet illusion, days of dear remembrance; even so let them
wither and perish utterly forever! For from henceforth my life must be
something other than a mere garland of flowers--it must be a chain of
finely tempered steel, hard, cold, and unbreakable--formed into links
strong enough to wind round and round two false lives and imprison them
so closely as to leave no means of escape. This was what must be
done-