Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
Let
us now return to Fernand Wagner,
whom we left flying from his Nisida, flying in horror and alarm from her whom
he nevertheless loved so tenderly and devotedly. He fled as if from the brink
of the yawning pit of hell, into which the malignant fiend who coveted his soul
was about to plunge him. Nor once did he look back. Absorbed as his feelings
were in the full conviction of the tremendous peril from which he had just
escaped, he still found room for the reflection that were he to turn and catch
but one glimpse of the beauteous, oh! too beauteous creature from whom he had
torn himself away, he should be lost. His mind was bent upon the salvation of
his immortal soul; and he knew that the enemy of mankind was assailing him with
a power and with an energy which nothing save the assistance of Heaven could
enable him to resist. He knew also that Heaven helps only those who are willing
and anxious to help themselves; and of this doctrine he had received a striking
and triumphant proof in the sudden and evanescent appearance of his guardian
angel at the instant when, overpowered by the strong, the earnest, and the
pathetic pleading of the siren Nisida, he was about to proclaim his readiness
to effect the crowning sacrifice. And it was to avoid the chance of that
direful yielding—to fly from a temptation which became irresistible when
embellished with all the eloquence of a woman on whom he doted, that Wagner
sped with lightning rapidity toward the mountains.
But the beauteous form of Nisida
met not now his eyes; and deeply, profoundly, ardently as he still loved her,
and felt that he must ever love her, yet, to speak soothly, he deplored not that
she was no longer there. The vision of the previous night had so firmly
established hope in his soul, that he had prepared and tutored himself, during
his journey across the mountains, to sacrifice all his happiness on earth to
insure the eternal felicity of heaven.
No. Nisida was not there. But as
he drew closer to the shore, he beheld, to his ineffable joy, the dark spot
gradually assume that defined shape which left no room to doubt the truth of
his vision, even were he inclined to be skeptical. For there, indeed,
touching the strand, but still
so far in the water that a slight exertion would send it completely afloat, was
a large boat, curiously shaped, and painted in a variety of fantastic colors.
It had a mast standing, but the sail was lowered and, on a closer inspection,
the boat proved to be altogether unimpaired.
“Heaven delights to effect its
wise intentions by natural means,” thought Wagner within himself. “But surely
it could not have been through the agency of Nisida that this boat was left upon
the shore? No,” he added aloud, after a still closer inspection; “the rope
fastened to the prow has been snapped asunder! Doubtless the boat became
detached from one of the ships which appeared off the island yesterday, and
which,” he said in a low murmuring voice, and with an ill-subdued sigh, “have
afforded Nisida the means of departure hence.”
He sat down, exhausted; and as he
found leisure for recollection—as his thoughts composed themselves and settled
down into something like collected calmness—he felt a sensation of
indescribable joy at having triumphed over the appalling temptations which had
beset him. And in his soul a voice seemed to be singing an anthem of delight
and gratitude; and he soon experienced a serenity of mind such as he had not known
for many hours past! When man, having yielded to temptation, succeeds in
escaping the perils of the consequences, he beholds a strong motive for
self-gratulation;—but how ineffably more sweet is it to be able to reflect that
the temptation itself has been avoided in the first instance, and that the
dangers of the results have never even been risked.
Thus thought Wagner:—but not for
a moment did he attribute to any strength of mind on his own part, the escape
which had just been effected from the snares set by the evil one. No; he
acknowledged within himself, and with all due humility, that the hand of the
Almighty had sustained him in his most trying moments of peril; and ere he
thought of resuming his journey to that side of the island on which Nisida was
not, he knelt in fervent prayer. Rising from his knees, his eyes accidentally
swept the sea:—and he was riveted to the spot from which he was about to turn
away—for the white sails of the Ottoman fleet met his astonished view. He
remained gazing on those objects for some time, until he was convinced they
were nearing the island. For a few moments a deep regret took possession of
him:—he should lose his Nisida irrevocably! But his next impulse was to wrestle
with this feeling—to combat this weakness. How could he have hoped ever to
rejoin her without rendering himself again liable to the witchery of her siren
tongue—the eloquence of her silver-toned voice—the persuasiveness of her
graceful manners? No; it were better that she should depart; it were preferable
that he should lose her and preserve his immortal soul. Thus reasoned he;—and
that reasoning was effectual. He waited only long enough to assure himself that
the fleet was positively approaching the island:—he then knew that she would
depart;—and, without permitting himself to yield again to the weakness which
had for a few moments threatened to send him back within the sphere of Nisida’s
fatal influence, he tore himself
away
from that point amongst the heights which commanded the view of the side of the
island where she was. Hastening around the base of the volcano, he reached the
defiles leading to that part of the isle where he had periodically fulfilled
his dreadful destiny as a Wehr-Wolf. Carefully avoiding the outskirts of the
forest and the knots of large trees, he proceeded toward the shore; and his
heart was rent with feelings of deep anguish as he everywhere beheld the traces
of destruction left behind him by his recent run in the horrible form of a
savage monster. Then, too, when melancholy thoughts had once again entered his
soul, the image of Nisida appeared to flit before him in the most tempting
manner; and the more he endeavored to banish from his memory the recollection
of her charms, the more vividly delineated did they become.
At length jealousy took
possession of him;—and suddenly stopping short in his progress toward the
shore, he exclaimed aloud, “What if she should be wooed and won by another? If
she return to her native land, as assuredly she now will, she may meet some
handsome and elegant cavalier who will succeed in winning her passions:—and
I—I, who love her so well—shall be forgotten! Oh! this is madness! To think
that another may possess her, clasp her in his arms, press his lips to hers,
feel her fragrant breath fan his cheek, play with the rich tresses of her
beauteous hair, oh! no, no, the bare thought is enough to goad me to despair!
She must not depart thus, we have separated, if not in anger at least abruptly,
too abruptly, considering how we have loved, and that we have wedded each other
in the sight of Heaven! Heaven!” repeated Wagner, his tone changing from
despair to a deep solemnity; “heaven! Oh! I rejoice that I gave utterance to
the word;—for it reminds me that to regain my Nisida I must lose heaven!”
And, as if to fly from his own
reflections, he rushed on toward the sea; and there he stopped to gaze, as oft
before he had gazed, on the mighty expanse, seeming, in the liquid sunlight, as
it stretched away from the yellow sand, a resplendent lake of molten silver bounded
by a golden shore.
“How like to the human
countenance art thou, oh mighty sea!” thought Wagner, as he stood with folded
arms on the brink of the eternal waters. “Now thou hast smiles as soft and
dimples as beautiful as ever appeared in the face of innocence and youth, while
the joyous sunlight is on thee. But if the dark clouds gather in the heaven
above thee, thou straightway assumed a mournful and a gloomy aspect, and thou
growest threatening and somber. And in how many varied voices dost thou speak.
Oh, treacherous and changeful sea! Now thou whisperest softly as if thy ripples
conveyed faint murmurs of love;—but, if the gale arise, thou canst burst forth
into notes of laughter as thy waters leap to the shore with bounding
mirth;—and, if the wind grow higher, thou canst speak louder and more
menacingly; till, when the storm comes on, thou lashest thyself into a
fury,—thou boilest with rage, and thy wrathful voice vies with the rush of the
tempest and the roar of the thunder! Deceitful sea—imaging the beauties,
thoughts, and passions of the
earth! Within thy mighty depths, too, thou hast gems to deck the crowns of
kings and the brows of loveliness; and yet thou cravest for more—more—and
engulfest rich argosies with all their treasures—thou insatiate sea! And in thy
dark caverns are the skeletons of the myriads of human beings whom thou hast
swallowed up in thy fury; and whose bones are trophies which thou retainest in
thy fathomless depths, as the heart of man enshrineth the relics of those hopes
which have wasted away and perished!”
Thus thought Wagner, as he stood
gazing upon the sea, then so calm and beautiful, but which he knew to be so
treacherous. When wearied of the reflections which that scene inspired, and not
daring to allow his mind to dwell upon the image of Nisida, he repaired to the
nearest grove and refreshed himself with the cooling fruits which he plucked.
Then he extended his rambles amongst the verdant plains, and strove strenuously
to divert his thoughts as much as possible from the one grand and mournful
idea—the departure of Nisida from the island! But vainly did he endeavor to fix
his attention upon the enchanting characteristics of that clime;—the flowers
appeared to him less brilliant in hue than they were wont to be—the fruits were
less inviting—the verdure was of a less lively green—and the plumage of the
birds seemed to have lost the bright gloss that rendered its colors so gorgeous
in the sunlight. For, oh! the powers of his vision were almost completely
absorbed in his mind; and that mind was a mirror wherein was now reflected with
a painful vividness all the incidents of the last few hours.
But still he was sustained in his
determination not to retrace his way to the spot where he had left Nisida; and
when several hours had passed, and the sun was drawing near the western
horizon, he exclaimed, in a moment of holy triumph, “She has doubtless by this
time quitted the island, and I have been enabled to resist those anxious
longings which prompted me to return and clasp her in my arms! O God! I thank
thee that thou hast given me this strength!”
Wagner now felt so overcome with
weariness after his wanderings and roamings of so many hours, especially as the
two preceding nights had been sleepless for him—that he sat down upon a piece
of low rock near the shore. A quiet, dreamy repose insensibly stole over him:
in a few minutes his slumber was profound. And now he beheld a strange vision.
Gradually the darkness which appeared to surround him grew less intense; and a
gauzy vapor that rose in the midst, at first of the palest bluish tint
possible, by degrees obtained more consistency, when its nature began to
undergo a sudden change, assuming the semblance of a luminous mist. Wagner’s
heart seemed to flutter and leap in his breast, as if with a presentiment of
coming joy; for the luminous mist became a glorious halo, surrounding the
beauteous and holy form of a protecting angel, clad in white and shining
garments, and with snowy wings drooping slowly from her shoulders! And
ineffably—supernally benign and reassuring was the look which the angel bent
upon the sleeping Wagner, as she said in the softest, most melodious tones,
“The choir of the heavenly host
has hymned thanks for thy salvation! After thou hadst resisted the temptations
of the enemy of mankind when he spoke to thee with his own lips, an angel came
to thee in a dream to give thee assurance that thou hadst already done much in
atonement for the crime that endangered thy soul; but he warned thee then that
much more remained to be done ere that atonement would be complete. And the
rest is now accomplished; for thou hast resisted the temptations of the evil
one when urged by the tongue and in the melodious voice of lovely woman! This
was thy crowning triumph: and the day when thou shalt reap thy reward is near
at hand; for the bonds which connect thee with the destiny of a Wehr-Wolf shall
be broken, and thy name shall be inscribed in Heaven’s own Book of Life! And I
will give thee a sign, that what thou seest and hearest now in thy slumber is
no idle and delusive vision conjured up by a fevered brain. The sign shall be
this: On awaking from thy sleep, retrace thy way to the spot where this morning
thou didst separate from her whom thou lovest; and there shalt thou find a boat
upon the sand. The boat will waft thee to Sicily; and there, in the town of
Syracuse, thou must inquire for a man whose years have numbered one hundred and
sixty-two; for that man it is who will teach thee how the spell which has made
thee a Wehr-Wolf may be broken.”
Scarcely had the angel finished
speaking, when a dark form rose suddenly near that heavenly being; and Wagner
had no difficulty in recognizing the demon. But the enemy of mankind appeared
not armed with terrors of countenance, nor with the withering scorn of infernal
triumph; for a moment his features denoted ineffable rage—and then that
expression yielded to one of the profoundest melancholy, as if he were saying
within himself, “There is salvation for repentant man, but none for me!” A
cloud now seemed to sweep before Wagner’s eyes; denser and more dense it
grew—first absorbing in its increasing obscurity the form of the demon, and
then enveloping the radiant being who still continued to smile sweetly and
benignly upon the sleeping mortal until the glorious countenance and the
shining garments were no longer visible, but all was black darkness around. And
Fernand Wagner continued to sleep profoundly.