He gazed upon her as he stood apart,--with what emotions it were vain to say.She would wake no more to him; she could not know how dearly the safety of that sleep was purchased.That morrow she had so yearned for,--it had come at last.HOW WOULD SHEGREET THE EVE? Amidst all the exquisite hopes with which love and youth contemplate the future, her eyes had closed.Those hopes still lent their iris-colours to her dreams.She would wake to live! To-morrow, and the Reign of Terror was no more;the prison gates would be opened,--she would go forth, with their child, into that summer-world of light.And HE?--he turned, and his eye fell upon the child; it was broad awake, and that clear, serious, thoughtful look which it mostly wore, watched him with a solemn steadiness.He bent over and kissed its lips.
"Never more," he murmured, "O heritor of love and grief,--never more wilt thou see me in thy visions; never more will the light of those eyes be fed by celestial commune; never more can my soul guard from thy pillow the trouble and the disease.Not such as Iwould have vainly shaped it, must be thy lot.In common with thy race, it must be thine to suffer, to struggle, and to err.But mild be thy human trials, and strong be thy spirit to love and to believe! And thus, as I gaze upon thee,--thus may my nature breathe into thine its last and most intense desire; may my love for thy mother pass to thee, and in thy looks may she hear my spirit comfort and console her.Hark! they come! Yes! I await ye both beyond the grave!"The door slowly opened; the jailer appeared, and through the aperture rushed, at the same instant, a ray of sunlight: it streamed over the fair, hushed face of the happy sleeper,--it played like a smile upon the lips of the child that, still, mute, and steadfast, watched the movements of its father.At that moment Viola muttered in her sleep, "The day is come,--the gates are open! Give me thy hand; we will go forth! To sea, to sea!
How the sunshine plays upon the waters!--to home, beloved one, to home again!""Citizen, thine hour is come!"
"Hist! she sleeps! A moment! There, it is done! thank Heaven!--and STILL she sleeps!" He would not kiss, lest he should awaken her, but gently placed round her neck the amulet that would speak to her, hereafter, the farewell,--and promise, in that farewell, reunion! He is at the threshold,--he turns again, and again.
The door closes! He is gone forever!
She woke at last,--she gazed round."Zanoni, it is day!" No answer but the low wail of her child.Merciful Heaven! was it then all a dream? She tossed back the long tresses that must veil her sight; she felt the amulet on her bosom,--it was NOdream! "O God! and he is gone!" She sprang to the door,-- she shrieked aloud.The jailer comes."My husband, my child's father?""He is gone before thee, woman!"
"Whither? Speak--speak!"
"To the guillotine!"--and the black door closed again.
It closed upon the senseless! As a lightning-flash, Zanoni's words, his sadness, the true meaning of his mystic gift, the very sacrifice he made for her, all became distinct for a moment to her mind,--and then darkness swept on it like a storm, yet darkness which had its light.And while she sat there, mute, rigid, voiceless, as congealed to stone, A VISION, like a wind, glided over the deeps within,--the grim court, the judge, the jury, the accuser; and amidst the victims the one dauntless and radiant form.
"Thou knowest the danger to the State,--confess!""I know; and I keep my promise.Judge, I reveal thy doom! Iknow that the Anarchy thou callest a State expires with the setting of this sun.Hark, to the tramp without; hark to the roar of voices! Room there, ye dead!--room in hell for Robespierre and his crew!"They hurry into the court,--the hasty and pale messengers; there is confusion and fear and dismay! "Off with the conspirator, and to-morrow the woman thou wouldst have saved shall die!""To-morrow, president, the steel falls on THEE!"On, through the crowded and roaring streets, on moves the Procession of Death.Ha, brave people! thou art aroused at last.
They shall not die! Death is dethroned!--Robespierre has fallen!--they rush to the rescue! Hideous in the tumbril, by the side of Zanoni, raved and gesticulated that form which, in his prophetic dreams, he had seen his companion at the place of death."Save us!--save us!" howled the atheist Nicot."On, brave populace! we SHALL be saved!" And through the crowd, her dark hair streaming wild, her eyes flashing fire, pressed a female form, "My Clarence!" she shrieked, in the soft Southern language native to the ears of Viola; "butcher! what hast thou done with Clarence?" Her eyes roved over the eager faces of the prisoners; she saw not the one she sought."Thank Heaven!--thank Heaven! I am not thy murderess!"Nearer and nearer press the populace,--another moment, and the deathsman is defrauded.O Zanoni! why still upon THY brow the resignation that speaks no hope? Tramp! tramp! through the streets dash the armed troop; faithful to his orders, Black Henriot leads them on.Tramp! tramp! over the craven and scattered crowd! Here, flying in disorder,--there, trampled in the mire, the shrieking rescuers! And amidst them, stricken by the sabres of the guard, her long hair blood-bedabbled, lies the Italian woman; and still upon her writhing lips sits joy, as they murmur, "Clarence! I have not destroyed thee!"On to the Barriere du Trone.It frowns dark in the air,--the giant instrument of murder! One after one to the glaive,--another and another and another! Mercy! O mercy! Is the bridge between the sun and the shades so brief,--brief as a sigh?
There, there,--HIS turn has come."Die not yet; leave me not behind; hear me--hear me!" shrieked the inspired sleeper."What!
