Abbot [pp. 687-699]

Abbot: or, " l'hie IIermit of the Falls."
Como must be punished; I felt that Heaven had
designed me as the minister of its vengeance, and
I prepared to execute, it to its fullest extent, and
with the cool, slow, determined purpose of one
under the control of a supernatural agency.
The night had arrived which I had selected to follow my victim. I determined to wound him in the
tenderest point. In darkness and in silence I would
strike him by the very side of her whose affections
he had violated. But I knew not what I would do.
Every passion was aroused and stretched to its utmost tension. My determination of revenge was
implacable, and yet all my plans were rash and indefinite. Reason was dethroned: I was consumed
by a raging fire, and my blood flowed through my
veins like molten brass. I had secured a room in
a house adjoining the palace of Di Como. My
plan was to ascend to the roof and pass over to
that of Di Como's. I chose an hour when most
men were asleep; when even Venice was at rest.
Its every revel was hushed, and even the debauchee slept. I took a dark taper in my hand, and
slowly descended the winding staircase. I sought
his chamber: I entered it with a stealthy and
noiseless tread: it was so still I heard the rush of
blood to my temples. A female servant was extended on a low pallet in a recess: a pale light
flickered dimly near the bed. The big round
drops gathered on my forehead as I drew near, and
every nerve quivered with intense emotion. The
twinkling light threw its rays directly upon the
face of the sleeper-it was a face sorrowful but
sweet as an angel's: it bore traces of grief, yet
was innocently sweet. She slumbered peacefully.
No dark image polluted the pure fountain of her
thoughts. Guilt had never been there, and there fore the angel of peace watched over her. I lean ed over her-so still. I heard her gentle breathing:
it was soft as the notes of harp-strings, the last
notes which tremble ere they part. I felt her breath
upon me, it was sweet as the breath of morn! The
keen dagger was in my hand! Did I strike? No!
He was not there. I stooped down. Amid the
wild war of my passions 1 paused! I stooped, and
pressed my lips, my quivering lips, to the lips of
Zarzina! I looked-again-for the last time! I
rushed from the chamber, and in a moment stalked
into the studio of Di Como. The fine bronzed
cheek and dark eye of the Italian were glowing
with animation. He was seated at his table; his
hour had come; nay, the very moment. I saw
by his cowering, shrinking attitude-I saw by his
agonized features, that, overwhelmed and guilty, he
looked for the stroke. Oh that I could have prolonged that moment-that I could have tortured
him with that. suspense, the mom-fentary apprehension of a violent, bloody and deserved death-a
death so dreadful that it crushed at a blow all his
visions of power and ambition.
I dashed towards him. The steel gleamed in my
nerved grasp. Clutching,, him by the throat I bore
him against the wall. His face grew livid-my
right arm was raised-he was powerless-and I
smiled with a look of bitter gratification as I
watched his writhing. I put my face close to hismy voice grew husky-" Kill thee? kill thee? No,
poor fiend, I'll haunt thee: I'll be a living curse to
thee: I'll be thy evil genius-I am Pacciaza! Thy
conscience shall kindle its hell within thy guilty
soul-Go, vile wretch,"-and I dashed him upon the
floor, and spurned him as he fell. I retreated, leaving
him senseless. I arrived at my room safely. I
exulted within myself as I pictured the terror I
had caused my enemy, and how he quailed under
my eye. But a moment and I relented that my
heart had spared him-that I had stayed the sacri fice when the victim was under my knife. But a
soft voice had whispered in my ear, " Do it not redden not thy hand in blood-keep thy soul pure."
I recoiled in horror from so dark a deed; I thanked
Heaven that my hands were yet unstained; that
my evil spirit had not triumphed. But yet jeal
pen between his fingers, and his countenance expressive of lively thought. But his cheek turned
pale and his eye wild as he turned to the intruder.
With an attempt at composure he was about to
speak but failed. My clenched teeth and startling
eye-balls told him that he was in the power of a
madman. He started, and we gazed upon each
other with a strange intensity: he with astonishrnent and awful terror; I, with the wildness of a
demon in the full flush of gratified revenge. The
VOL. VI. —88
1840.]
697
ousy and revenge held the mastery: fuel had been
added to the fire of the former, and wormwood to
the bitterness of the latter. I had seen a face.
how beautiful-a face that has since followed me
through life, like the spirit of beauty, haunting and
pervading every bricht vision that gleams upon me.
More; I had pressed my cheek, my white cheek
to ber's: my lips to the lips of her for whom I
would have periled everything. I had seen her
seen her, who was, or should have been mine, upon
the couch of another-the child of an unwilling
union reposiiia- upon her bm! Heaven seemel
again to stir me up to vengeance, and again I
vowed to rob Di Como, at one blow, of life and liappiness. I knew that a too vigilant guard would be
kept, to expect any hope of entering his palace by
the means I had before used; and the greatest care
was necessary to elude the Arous eyes of the
friends of Di Como-who kept a daily and hourly
watch for me.
But a chance occurred which diverted my passion. Two months after the encounter, Zarzina
was seized with a malady which terminated her
existence. T thanked Heaven, not that she was
dead, but, that she had been removed from the ernbraces of one whom she could not love, and was
now the participant of the joys of immortality. I
thought the union unhallowed, and thanked Cxod
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