Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
Appareled in handsome garments,
and with the rich carnation glow of health and animation on her cheeks, and
with her eyes flashing the fires of hope, but with the vermilion lips
compressed, Nisida now stood on the strand where so oft she had wandered like a
naiad, feeling no shame at her semi-nudity.
During the time occupied by her
toilet, the fleet of seven ships had approached much nearer to the island, and
now they were not more than three miles distant. The hulls, which at first had
seemed quite black, shone, as they drew closer, with the gay colors in which
they were painted, the gorgeous sunlight playing vividly on the gilding of the
prows, the streaks of
red
and white along the sides, and the splendid decorations of the poop lanterns.
Noble and mighty ships they were—ships of size such as Nisida had never seen
before, and in comparison with which all the merchant-vessels she had beheld at
Leghorn were but mere boats. There was no need to raise a signal to invite them
to approach—for that fleet was evidently steering toward the island. Whence did
this fleet come? whither was it bound? to what nation did it belong? and would
those on board treat her with attention and respect?
Such were the thoughts which
flashed across her brain—and her heart beat with anxiety for the arrival of the
moment which should solve those questions. Absorbed as she was in the
contemplation of the noble ships—those mighty but graceful swans of the
ocean—she did not forget to cast, from time to time, a rapid glance around, to
see if Fernand were retracing his way toward her. Alas! no—he came not—and she
must quit the isle without embracing him—without assuring him of her constant
love—without renewing her oft-repeated promise to return. Ah! a thought struck
her: she would leave a note for him in the hut! No sooner was the project
determined on than she set about its execution; for there were writing
materials amidst the stores saved from the corsair-wreck. A brief but tender
letter was hastily penned, and then secured in a place where she knew he must
find it should he revisit the rude tenement in which they had so often slept in
each other’s arms. And that he would revisit it she both fondly hoped and
firmly believed—revisit it so soon as the excitement and the terror, under the
influence of which he had parted from her, should have subsided. Her mind was
now much easier, and her beauty was wonderfully enhanced by the glow of
animation which suffused itself over her countenance, giving additional light
to her ever brilliant eyes, and rendering her noble aquiline face resplendent
to gaze upon.
The ships came to anchor at a
distance of about two miles from the shore: and though the banners of each were
fluttering in the breeze, yet Nisida was not well skilled enough in
discriminating the flags of different nations to be able immediately to satisfy
herself to which country that fleet belonged. But as she stood with her eyes
fixed on the foremost vessel, which was also the largest, she observed that
there was a gilt crescent in the middle of the blood-red standard that floated
over her central poop-lantern; and a chill struck to her heart—for the thought
of African pirates flashed to her mind! This alarm was, however, as evanescent
as it was poignant; for another moment’s reflection convinced her that none of
the princes of Africa could send so proud a fleet to sea. Following up the
chain of reasoning thus suggested, and calling to her aid all the accounts she
had read of naval fights between the Christians and the Moslems, she at length
remembered that the blood-red banner, with the gilt crescent in the middle,
denoted the presence of the Kapitan-Pasha, or Lord High Admiral of the Ottoman
Empire. Confidently believing that peace existed between Italy and Turkey, she
had now no longer any fears as to the treatment
she was likely to experience at
the hands of the Mohammedans; and it was with unfeigned joy that she beheld a
boat, which had put off from the admiral’s ship, at length approaching the
shore.
As the magnificently painted and
gorgeously gilt barge, which twenty-four white-turbaned rowers urged along with
almost horse-race speed, neared the strand, Nisida observed, beneath a velvet
canopy in the stern, a personage, who by his splendid apparel, his commanding
demeanor, and the respect paid to him by the slaves accompanying him, was
evidently of exalted rank. She accordingly conceived that this must be the
kapitan-pasha himself. But she was mistaken. Her delight at the approach of the
barge, which she fondly hoped would prove the means of her deliverance from the
island, was only equaled by the surprise of those on board at beholding a
beautiful and elegantly dressed lady, unattended and alone, on the seashore, as
if awaiting their arrival. And, during the few minutes which now elapsed ere the
barge touched the strand, it was evident that the high functionary seated
beneath the canopy surveyed Nisida with increasing wonder and admiration; while
she, on her side, could not help noticing that he was remarkably handsome, very
young, and possessing a countenance rather of an Italian than a Turkish cast of
features.
Meantime a profound silence,
broken only by the slight and uniform sounds produced by the oars, prevailed:
and when the boat touched the strand, a long and wide plank, covered with velvet,
was so placed as to enable the high functionary before alluded to to land
conveniently. Attended by two slaves, who followed at a respectful distance,
the Mussulman chief advanced toward Nisida, whom he saluted in a manner which
strengthened her suspicion that he was not of Turkish origin, although habited
in the richest Oriental costume she had ever seen, and evidently holding some
very superior office among the Ottomans. She returned his salutation with a
graceful bow and a sweet smile: and he immediately addressed her in the Italian
tongue—her own dear and delightful language, saying, “Lady, art thou the queen
of this land? or art thou, as appearances would almost lead one to conjecture,
a solitary inhabitant here?”
For he saw that she was
alone—beheld no traces of culture; and there was but one miserable dwelling,
and that such as she might have built up with her own hands. Nisida shook her
head mournfully, making signs that she was deaf and dumb. The Mussulman chief
uttered an ejaculation of mingled surprise and grief, and surveyed the lady
with additional interest and admiration. But in a few moments his countenance
assumed a sudden expression of astonishment, as if a light had broken in upon
him, suggesting something more than a mere suspicion—nay, indeed, a positive
conviction; and having examined her features with the most earnest attention,
he abruptly took his tablets from the folds of his garment, and wrote something
on them. He then handed them to Nisida; and it was now her turn to experience the
wildest surprise—for on the page opened to
her
view were these words, traced in a beautiful style of calligraphy, and in the
Italian language: “Is it possible that your ladyship can be the Donna Nisida of
Riverola?”
Nisida’s eyes wandered in
astonishment from the tablets to the countenance of him who had penciled that
question; but his features were certainly not familiar to her—and yet she
thought that there was something in the general expression of that handsome
face not altogether unknown to her. As soon as she had partially recovered from
the surprise and bewilderment produced by finding that she at least was known
to the Ottoman functionary, she wrote beneath his question the following reply:
“I am indeed Nisida of Riverola, who for seven long months have been the only
inhabitant of this island, whereon I was shipwrecked, and I am now anxious to
return to Italy—or at all events to the first Christian port at which your
fleet may touch. Have mercy upon me, then; and take me hence! But who are you, signor,
that I should prove no stranger to you?”
The Ottoman chief read these
words, and hastened to reply in the following manner: “I have the honor to be
the grand vizier of his imperial highness the glorious Sultan Solyman, and my
name is Ibrahim. A few months ago I encountered your brother Francisco, Count
of Riverola, who was then in command of a body of Tuscan auxiliaries, raised to
assist in defending Rhodes against the invading arms of the mighty Solyman.
Your brother became my prisoner, but I treated him worthily. He informed me
with bitter tears of the strange and mysterious disappearance of his
well-beloved sister, who had the misfortune to be deprived of the faculties of
hearing and speech. Your brother was soon set free, after the fall of Rhodes, and
he returned to his native city. But from all he told me of thee, lady, it was
natural that I should ere now conjecture who thou must be.”
Ibrahim did not choose to add
that he had remembered to have seen Nisida occasionally in their native city of
Florence, and that he was indeed the brother of her late dependent, Flora
Francatelli. But the explanation which he did give was quite sufficient to
renew her deepest surprise, as she now learnt for the first time that during
her absence her brother had been engaged in the perils of warfare. The grand
vizier gently withdrew from Nisida’s hand the tablets on which her eyes were
positively riveted; but it was only to trace a few lines to afford her
additional explanations. When he returned the tablets to her again she read as
follows: “By a strange coincidence the glorious fleet which has wafted me
hither to deliver you from this lonely isle, and which is under the command of
the kapitan-pasha in person, is bound for the western coast of Italy. Its
mission is at present known only to myself and a faithful Greek dependent; but
your ladyship shall receive worthy attention and be duly conveyed to Leghorn.
The squadron has been driven from its course by a tempest which assailed us off
the island of Candia; our pilot lost his reckonings, and when land was descried
this morning, it was believed to be the coast of
Sicily. Hast thou, lady, any
means of enlightening us as to the geographical position of this island?”
Nisida answered in the ensuing
manner: “I have not the least notion of the geographical position of the
island. An eternal summer appears to prevail in this clime, which would be a
terrestrial paradise were not the forests infested by hideous serpents of an
enormous size.”
Ibrahim Pasha, having read this
reply, summoned from the barge the officer in command: and to him he
communicated the intelligence which he had just received from Nisida. That
officer’s countenance immediately underwent a dreadful change; and, falling on
his knees at Ibrahim’s feet, he made some strong appeal, the nature of which
Nisida could only divine by its emphatic delivery and the terrified manner of
the individual. Ibrahim smiled contemptuously, and motioned the officer with an
imperious gesture to rise and return to the barge. Then, again, having recourse
to the tablets, he conveyed the following information to Nisida: “Lady, it
appears that this is the Isle of Snakes, situated in the Gulf of Sictra, on the
African coast. Horrible superstitions are attached to this clime: and I dare
not remain longer on its shore, lest I should seriously offend the prejudices
of those ignorant sailors. Come, then, lady, you shall receive treatment due to
your rank, your beauty, and your misfortunes.”
In the meantime the officer had
returned to the barge, where whispers speedily circulated in respect to the
land on which that boat had touched; and the reader may imagine the extent of
the loathing which the mere name of the isle was calculated to inspire in the
breasts of the superstitious Mussulmans, when we observe that the existence of
that island was well known to the Turks and also to the Africans, but was left
uninhabited, and was never visited knowingly by any of their ships. Nisida saw
that the grand vizier was in haste to depart, not through any ridiculous fears
on his part, because he was too enlightened to believe in the fearful tales of
mermaids, genii, ghouls, vampires, and other evil spirits by which the island
was said to be haunted, but because his renegadism had been of so recent a date
that he dared not, powerful and altered as he was, afford the least ground for
suspecting that the light of Christianity triumphed in his soul over the dark
barbarism of his assumed creed. Seeing, then, that Ibrahim Pasha was anxious to
yield to the superstitious feelings of the sailors, Nisida intimated, with a
graceful bend of the head, her readiness to accompany him. But, as she advanced
toward the boat, she cast a rapid and searching glance behind her. Alas! Wagner
appeared not.
A feeling of uneasiness, amounting
almost to a pang of remorse, took possession of her, as she placed her foot
upon the velvet-covered plank; and for an instant she hesitated to proceed.
Could she abandon Fernand to the
solitude of that isle? Could she renounce the joys which his love had taught
her to experience? And might she not be enabled to persuade him to make that
sacrifice which would invest him with a power that she
herself would direct and wield
according to her own pleasure and suitably to her own interests? But, oh! that
hesitation lasted not more than a moment; for her feet were on the plank
leading to the barge, and at a short distance floated the ship that would bear
her away from the isle.
One longing, lingering look upon
the shore of that island where she had enjoyed so much happiness, even if she
had experienced so much anxiety; one longing, lingering look, and she hesitated
no more. Ibrahim escorted her to a seat beneath the velvet canopy; the officer
in command gave the signal, the barge was shoved off, the rowers plied their
oars, and the island was already far behind, ere Nisida had the courage to
glance toward it again!