"Curse it, I wish I had to do with a man instead of a woman, and the fairest woman in Venice," said the gondolier."Here, Nicholas, lend me your handkerchief and bring a light."It was all over.The worst had happened.Nothing could save me.I still crouched in the corner, but I was tense in every muscle, like a wild cat about to spring.
If I had to die I was determined that my end should be worthy of my life.
One of them had gone for a lamp and Matteo was stooping over me with a handkerchief.In another instant my secret would be discovered.But he suddenly drew himself straight and stood motionless.At the sameinstant there came a confused murmuring sound through the little window far above my head.It was the rattle of oars and the buzz of many voices.Then there was a crash upon the door upstairs, and a terrible voice roared: "Open! Open in the name of the Emperor!"The Emperor! It was like the mention of some saint which, by its very sound, can frighten the demons.
Away they ran with cries of terror--Matteo, the valets, the steward, all of the murderous gang.Another shout and then the crash of a hatchet and the splintering of planks.There were the rattle of arms and the cries of French soldiers in the hall.Next instant feet came flying down the stair and a man burst frantically into my cell.
"Lucia!" he cried, "Lucia!" He stood in the dim light, panting and unable to find his words.Then he broke out again."Have I not shown you how I love you, Lucia? What more could I do to prove it? I have betrayed my country, I have broken my vow, I have ruined my friends, and I have given my life in order to save you."It was young Lorenzo Loredan, the lover whom I had superseded.My heart was heavy for him at the time, but after all it is every man for himself in love, and if one fails in the game it is some consolation to lose to one who can be a graceful and considerate winner.
I was about to point this out to him, but at the first word I uttered he gave a shout of astonishment, and, rushing out, he seized the lamp which hung in the corridor and flashed it in my face.
"It is you, you villain!" he cried."You French coxcomb.You shall pay me for the wrong which you have done me."But the next instant he saw the pallor of my face and the blood which was still pouring from my head.
"What is this?" he asked."How come you to have lost your ear?"I shook off my weakness, and pressing my handkerchief to my wound I rose from my couch, the debonair colonel of Hussars.
"My injury, sir, is nothing.With your permission we will not allude to a matter so trifling and so personal."But Lucia had burst through from her cell and was pouring out the whole story while she clasped Lorenzo's arm.
"This noble gentleman--he has taken my place, Lorenzo! He has borne it for me.He has suffered that I might be saved."I could sympathise with the struggle which I could see in the Italian's face.At last he held out his hand to me.
"Colonel Gerard," he said, "you are worthy of a great love.I forgive you, for if you have wronged me you have made a noble atonement.But I wonder to see you alive.I left the tribunal before you were judged, but I understood that no mercy would be shown to any Frenchman since the destruction of the ornaments of Venice.""He did not destroy them," cried Lucia."He has helped to preserve those in our palace.""One of them, at any rate," said I, as I stooped and kissed her hand.
This was the way, my friends, in which I lost my ear.Lorenzo was found stabbed to the heart in the Piazza of St.Mark within two days of the night of my adventure.Of the tribunal and its ruffians, Matteo and three others were shot, the rest banished from the town.
Lucia, my lovely Lucia, retired into a convent at Murano after the French had left the city, and there she still may be, some gentle lady abbess who has perhaps long forgotten the days when our hearts throbbed together, and when the whole great world seemed so small a thing beside the love which burned in our veins.Or perhaps it may not be so.Perhaps she has not forgotten.
There may still be times when the peace of the cloister is broken by the memory of the old soldier who loved her in those distant days.Youth is past and passion is gone, but the soul of the gentleman can never change, and still Etienne Gerard would bow his grey head before her and would very gladly lose his other ear if he might do her a service.
