n the novel itself we wander, bewildered,
baffled and distracted through labyrinthine mazes. No Ariadne
awaits on the threshold with the magic ball of twine to guide us
through the complicated windings. We stumble along blind alleys
desperately retracing our weary steps, and, after stumbling alone
and unaided to the very end, reach the darkly concealed clue when
it has ceased to be either of use or of interest to us. Many an
adventurer must have lain down, dispirited and exhausted, without
ever reaching his distant and elusive goal. Disentangled and
simplified almost beyond recognition, the story runs thus: In
1670, Count Orazio and his younger brother are the sole
representatives of the family of Montorio. Orazio has married
Erminia di Vivaldi, whom he loves devotedly. She does not return
his love. The younger brother determines to take advantage of
this circumstance to gain the title and estates for himself, and
succeeds in arousing Orazio's jealousy against a young officer,
Verdoni, to whom Erminia had formerly been deeply attached. In a
violent passion Orazio slays Verdoni before the eyes of Erminia,
who falls dead at his feet. This part of his design accomplished,
the younger brother plots to murder Orazio himself, who, however,
discovers the innocence of his wife and the hideous perfidy of
his brother. Temporarily bereft of reason, Orazio sojourns alone
on a desert island. When his senses are restored, he resolves to
devote the rest of his life to vengeance. For fifteen years he
buries himself in occult studies, and when his diabolical schemes
have matured, returns, disguised as the monk Schemoli, to the
scene of the murder. He becomes confessor to his brother, who has
assumed the title and estates. It is his intention to compel the
Count's sons, Annibal and Ippolito, to murder their father. Death
at the hands of parricides seems to him the only appropriate
catastrophe for the Count's career of infamy. To reconcile the
two victims--Annibal and Ippolito--to their task, he "relies
mainly on the doctrine of fatalism." The most complex and
ingenious "machinery" is used to work upon their superstitious
feelings. No device is too tortuous if it aid his purpose. Even
the pressure of the Inquisition is brought to bear on one of the
brothers. Each, after protracted agony, submits to his destiny,
and the swords of the two brothers meet in the Count's body. When
the murder is safely accomplished, it is proved that Annibal a