Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 September 1885 — THE EMBALMED HEART. [ARTICLE]

THE EMBALMED HEART.

BY MRS. BURTON N. HARRISON.

One evening a poor physician sat in his room in Florence, wishing that some Christian sonl would have pity upon his meagerly filled purse and fall ill where he should be forced to take the ease in charge. Not the smallest accident or the most trifling sickness had come into his hands in weeks, and starvation was staring him in the face. At this moment a xpan wrapped in a dark mantle glided into his room, addressing me —for I who writ© am the hero of my story —bv name: “I need your assistance, Doctor,” he said, in an agitated whisper, “not for the living but for the dead. My sister, who came here with me on a visit to some relatives from our home in a foreign country, has just died, and before interring her remains in this strange land I desire, according to the custom of our family, to carry away with me her embalmed heart, that so much at least of our beloved one may repose among the ashes of our kindred. My mission is to ask if you will assist me in this painful duty. It is necessary that it be done at night, and quietly, since we do not wish to start the tongues of the gossips, or to allow the servants of the house to become aware of it. Here is the certificate of her death signed by her regular physician, and as an earnest of my willingness to make the visit worth your while, allow me to lay this purse of gold upon your table.” Seeing the glimmer of the large, bright pieces in the flames of my expiring lamp, I could no longer hesitate. Besides the straightforward manliness of my visitor and his evident emotion quite won my sympathy. I followed him, and after a long walk-rdur-ing the latter part of which I consented to be led blindfolded—we Btopped at the small side gate of a large and stately palace. Opening this, we ascended in thedark a winding staircase, emerging in a dimly lighted corridor. Preceding me with noiseless footsteps, the stranger touched the spring of a secret door, which, flying back,revealed a lofty chamber lighted by a silver lamp swinging between marble columns. Here on a low couch lay the body of a beautiful young girl. “You will excuse my personal attendance, Doctor,” said my guide, turning away his face as if to conceal his tears. “It is more than I can bear, and I shall wait without until your task is finished.” After a brief examination of my subject, who lay as if disposed for burial, and noting with interest the fact of her •xtreme youth and beauty, I prepared to make an incision in the region of the heart. Quickly, but less skillfully than usual, I plunged my long, sharp knife into her breast—when, horror unspeakable ! the dead girl stirred, opened a pair of dark, imploring eyes, moaned once, as the blood gushed in a current over the 'bed, and then lay motionless as when I had seen her first. So completely did this circumstance unnerve me that my hand was paralyzed. Evidently the case had been one of suspended animation, and the hand that might have rescued the poor girl from the jaws of death had but served to hurl her into them. Dizzy and despairing, cursing the poverty that had led me to accept this fatal commission, not daring to look a second time at "my victim upon her blood-

stained bier, I dashed my knife upon the floor and fled. The door opened easily, but my visitor was qowhere to be seen. My wish now was to avoid him, and I rushed headlong down the long stone staircase into the courtyard, into the street, believing the stars above • thousand watchers sat there to taunt me. How I finally reached home I know not, but when I found myself once more in the quiet of my poor room, everything as I had left it, books in their places, the cat purring, my mother’s picture looking at me with a smile from the frame above my bed, I felt as if I had been wandering like Cain with a mark upon my brow during a century of woe. Throwing myself upon my couch, I hid my face in my pillow, trying to shut out the look of her dying eyes. Not until day broke did I fall in a tortured sleep, •wakening from which toward midd y with a start I tried to persuade myself that the event of the night was nothing but a dream. But there in the drawer, where I‘had-locked them on going ont, were the gold pieces, a‘ silent but eloquent reminder of my misfortune. Seizing the purse with feverish fingers, I set out for a long tramp in the environs of the city, determined to

bury the accursed thing <rat Of my sight forever. In a remote spot on a solitary hillside I made its grave, wishing that I too might rest beneath the sod. As I walked home, hunger and thirst overpowered me. I gave my last bit of copper to a woman who was milking her cow, receiving in return a draught of the foaming fluid. This sustained me to reach home again, and in the street I met an old comrade, who, railing me on my wild looks, invited me to breakfast. As I had no dinner the night before, poor human nature urged me to accept, and with the hot coffee, the rolls, the fruit and the omelet, a semblance of comfort stole into my heart. While talking with my friend an undercurrent of thought abbut the tragedy kept lapping up over every other subject, as the tide comes in that nothing can hold back. Then it occurred to me to wonder if the brother, finding my mission unaccomplished, would not return to remonstrate with me, and to take away the money 1 had not earned. How could I explain to him the reason of my failure and my flight? Yes, surely, he would come to seek me, and as an honest man it was my duty to face him. As to explaining to him, that was another matter. Only one person in the world could have told that my knife was plunged into a living breast, and not a dead one, and she would speak no- more. Why harrow her survivors with the unavailing knowledge of her brief return to life ? After all I had acted without knowledge, and at the instigation of the orte who loved her best,. Certainly he loved her, as brothers rarely love their sisters, it seemed to me. I recalled the shudder with which he turned from a brief glance at the bed of death, and the sob in his voice that came, apparently, from mighty grief. Assuredly, I should see him again. Even now he might be awaiting me at my lodgings. As I rose to go, my friend, who had been carelessly looking over a journsl of the morning, read alftud a paragraph announcing that this was the wedding day of Abe young Princess N——, a Russian Beauty, famous of late in Florentine society, who was to m?rry Prince L- , a Roman nobleman, as young, rich and well born as herself. “Let us go to the church door,” said Paul, my friend, “even if we are not hidden. A cat may look at the king, and all the world may admire a bride alighting from her carriage.” Excusing myself on the plea that my garments did not entitle me to a place even upon the pavement, I broke away from him and returned to my solitary room. As I mounted the steps, I walked slower, dreading the apparition of my visitor of the previous night. I opened the door to find that the room was empty and Undisturbed- But upon my table lay a parcel, and tearing it open I saw within my bloody knife enfolded in a paper on which these words were written: “I return to you your property, my somewhat careless and decidedly nervous doctor. You will probably never hear from me again, but consider your gold well earned.” A cold sweat broke out upon my brow: Now, indeed, had my feet touched the waters of a dark and unknown sea. Could it be that I was the instrument of a crime ?

I pass over the anguish of that day. In the evening, able no longer to endure my thoughts, I went out to a cheap case where I could venture to ask for a simple meal on trust, since by to-morrow would arrive the small allowance sent me by my widowed mother every month. I aslced for little, but I ate less. In my dazed state I was conscious that people around me were talking excitedly. By and by some newcomer suggested to have the story over which they were all gabbling told connectedly. Thus it was that, like a creature in a dream, I heard of the tragedy with which Florence that day was ringing—the tale of an infamous attack the night before upon lovely Princess N——, on the eve of her wedding day, by some unknown miscreant, who, stabbing her while she lay asleep, had left her there for dead. That she did not die was a marvel, but the stab, though deep, was not necessarily mortal. Clearly the assassin’s hand must have wavered ih his aim. Almost immediately the attendants, roused by some noise in the Princess’ room, had found her, and by prompt measures the unfortunate lady was restored to consciousness. Although hardly possible that she could survive, the physicians yet gave some hope. Useless to speak of the sorrow befalling the noble household of it or of the young bridegroom thus cruelly robbed of his intended. Much more was printed and said regarding the murderer, his motive, and the search for him that was to be set on foot, but for that I care little. I was ready 16 deliver myself up at that moment, if it could serve to expose the villain who had used me for his tool. When I returned home again to meditate upon the best course for .me to follow, I found another note from the destroyer of my peace, curt and mysterious as'the preceding. 1 .. . “Fear nothing. Doctor. You are safe and unsuspected. Our patient has escaped us.”

Some years later I wqnt one evening to the opera. Looking up at the array of beauties above me I saw her. Never to be forgotten was the exceedingly white skin, with the large, dark eyes and hair of raven blackness. She wore a robe of white,* with row after row of priceless pearls around her throat. “That's the beautiful Princess L,” said a gossip near me. “She has just returned to Florence with her husband ;for the first time since the tragedy that so nearly cost he? life. Do yon know there was a rumor that she had been drugged in some powerful fashion before the murder was attempted ? But the whole affair was so hushed up that little Was ever really known about it” “Strange that no clew was found to suggest a motive for the crime,” rejoined his loving, and beloved, was so attacked, who is safe? That httndsome man in the back of her bo*, who js leaning over her shonldeV—-see, he has just withdrawn into the. tshadow—is her husband, I suppose?” “No, the Prince is the slight, youthful one, who is talking with the lady in

velvet The other—yes, there he comes forward—is the Count cli S, who has been so long absent on hi? travels in the East. They used to say he was a suitor for her hand, but apparently the fancy is forgotten.” There, sitting at her elbow with an air of easy confidence—evidently the trusted and familiar friend of wife and hnsband—l saw—my 1 enemy and hers. Inter Ocean .