06 - Mystery of the Campagna by Anne Crawford

In the enchanting backdrop of Rome, a group of artists is immersed in their creative pursuits. But when one of them retreats to a secluded villa for solitude, his friends are drawn to visit. What they discover is unsettling‚a mere ‚òshadowy likeness‚ of Marcello, who has inexplicably taken up sleepwalking. As they delve deeper into the mystery, a strange woman emerges from the shadows of the grounds each night. Who is she, and what secrets does she hold? - Summary by Newgatenovelist

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
Section six of A Mystery of the Campania by Anne Crawford.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Part two
Robert Sutton's account of what happened at the Vigna Marziale,
Segment D. It required no effort of memory to repeat

(00:23):
to Taia's words to Manya when he woke, for they
were always the same. We had another sister that night,
and as Sir Claudius was not to return till the
next day, at midday, I offered to share the watch
with Manya, who was getting very nervous and exhausted, and
who seemed to think that some such attack might be expected,

(00:45):
as had occurred the night before. The new sister was
a gentle, delicate looking little woman, with tears in her
soft brown eyes as she bent over the sick man
and crossed herself from time to time, rubbing the crucifix
which hung from the beads at her waist. Nevertheless, she

(01:05):
was calm and useful, and as punctual as Sir Claudius
herself in giving the medicines. The doctor had come in
the evening and prescribed a change in these. He would
not say what he thought of his patient, but only
declared that it was necessary to wait for a crisis.

(01:26):
Mania sent for some supper, and we sat over it
together in silence, neither of us hungry. He kept looking
at his watch. If the same thing happens to night,
he will die, said he, and laid his head on
his arms. He will die in a most foolish cause,
then I said angrily, for I thought he was going

(01:48):
to cry, as those Frenchmen have a way of doing,
and I wanted to irritate him by way of a tonic.
So I went on. It would be dying for Apharion,
who is making an ass of himself in a ridiculous
business which will be over in a week. Fustra may
get as much fever as he likes. Only don't ask

(02:08):
me to come and nurse him. It is not the fever,
said he slowly. It is a horrible, nameless dread that
I have. I suppose it is listening to detire that
makes me nervous. Hark, he added, it strikes eleven. We

(02:28):
must watch. If you really expect another attack, you had
better warn the sister, I said, so he told her
in a few words, what might happen? Very well, monsieur,
she answered, and sat down quietly near the bed Manya
at the pillow, and I near him. No sound was

(02:50):
to be heard but to tire his ceaseless lament. And
now before I tell you more, I must stop to
treat you to believe me. It will be almost impossible
for you to do so. I know, for I have
laughed myself at such tales, and no assurances would have

(03:10):
made me credit them. But I, Robert Sutton, swear that
this thing happened. More I cannot do. It is the truth.
We had been watching to tire intently. He was lying
with closed eyes and had been very restless. Suddenly he

(03:31):
became quite still, and then began to tremble, exactly as
Sir cloud Use had described. It was a curious, uniform trembling,
apparently in every fiber, and his iron bedsteads shook as
though strong hands were at its head and foot. Then
came the absolute rigidity she had also described. And I

(03:54):
do not exaggerate when I say that not only did
his short cropped hair seem to stand wrecked, that it
literally did so. A lamp cast the shadow of his
profile against the wall to the left of his bed,
and as I looked at the immovable outline, which seemed
painted on the wall. I saw the hare slowly rise,

(04:16):
until the line where it joined the forehead was quite
a different one, abrupt instead of a smooth sweep. His
eyes opened wide and were frightfully fixed, then as frightfully strained,
But they certainly did not see us. We waited breathlessly
for what might follow. The little sister was standing close

(04:38):
to him, her lips pressed together, and a little pale,
but very calm. Do not be frightened, Monsieur, whispered mania,
and she answered in a businesslike tone, no, Monsieur, and
drew still nearer to her patient, and took his hands,
which were stiff as those of her corpse, between her own,

(05:00):
to warm them. I laid mine upon his heart. It
was beating so imperceptibly that I almost thought it had stopped,
And as I leaned my face to his lips, I
could feel no breath issue from them. It seemed as
though the rigor would last forever. Suddenly, without any transition,

(05:22):
he hurled himself with enormous force, and literally at one
bound almost into the middle of the room, scattering as
aside like leaves in the wind. I was upon him
in a moment, grappling with him with all my strength
to prevent him from reaching the door. Manya had been
thrown backward against the table, and I heard the medicine

(05:43):
bottles crash with his fall. He had flung back his
hand to save himself and rushed to help me, with
the blood dropping from a cut in his wrist. The
little sister sprang to us the tire had thrown her
violently back upon her knees, and now, with the nurses
in side, she tried to throw a shawl over his
bare breast. We four must have made a strange group.

(06:08):
Four we were five. Marcelo Suvestre stood before us, just
within the door. We all saw him, for he was there.
His bloodless face was turned toward us, unmoved, his hands
hung by his side, as white as his face. Only
his eyes had a life in them. They were fixed

(06:31):
on the tire. Thank God, you have come at last,
I cried, don't stand there like a fool, help us,
cant you? But he never moved. I was furiously angry, and,
leaving my hold, sprang upon him to drag him forward.

(06:52):
My outstretched hands struck hard against the door, and I
felt a thing like a spider's web enveloped me. It
seemed to draw itself over my mouth and eyes, and
to blind and choke me, and then to flutter and
tear and float from me. Marcella was gone. Attire had

(07:12):
slipped from Manya's hold and lay in a heap upon
the floor, as though his limbs were broken. The sister
was trembling violently as she knelt over him and tried
to raise his head. We gazed at one another, stooped
and lifted him in our arms, and carried him back
to his bed. Whilsieur Marie quietly collected the broken files.

(07:38):
You saw it, monsieur. I heard Manya whisper hoarsely, Yes, Monsieur,
She only answered in a trembling voice, holding on to
her crucifix. Then she said, in a professional tone, will
monsieur let me bind up his wrist? And though her

(07:58):
fingers trembled and his hand was shaking, the bandage was
an irreproachable one. Manya went into the next room, and
I heard him throw himself heavily into a chair. The
tire seemed to be sleeping. His breath came regularly, his
eyes were closed, with a look of peace about the lids,

(08:21):
his hands lying in a natural way upon the quilt.
He had not moved since we laid him there. I
went softly to where Manya was sitting in the dark.
He did not move, but only said, Marcellow is dead.
He is either dead or dying. I answered, and we

(08:41):
must go to him. Yes, Manya whispered, we must go
to him, but we shall not reach him. We shall
go as soon as it is light, I said, And
then we were still again. End of Section and six