The $30,000 Bequest and Other Stories

M >> Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) >> The $30,000 Bequest and Other Stories


"Dismiss thy fears and thy doubts," replied Elfonzo.

"Look, O! look: that angelic look of thine--bathe not thy visage
in tears; banish those floods that are gathering; let my confession
and my presence bring thee some relief." "Then, indeed, I will
be cheerful," said Ambulinia, "and I think if we will go to the
exhibition this evening, we certainly will see something worthy
of our attention. One of the most tragical scenes is to be acted
that has ever been witnessed, and one that every jealous-hearted person
should learn a lesson from. It cannot fail to have a good effect,
as it will be performed by those who are young and vigorous,
and learned as well as enticing. You are aware, Major Elfonzo, who are
to appear on the stage, and what the characters are to represent."
"I am acquainted with the circumstances," replied Elfonzo, "and as I
am to be one of the musicians upon that interesting occasion,
I should be much gratified if you would favor me with your company
during the hours of the exercises."

"What strange notions are in your mind?" inquired Ambulinia.
"Now I know you have something in view, and I desire you to tell
me why it is that you are so anxious that I should continue
with you while the exercises are going on; though if you think I
can add to your happiness and predilections, I have no particular
objection to acquiesce in your request. Oh, I think I foresee,
now, what you anticipate." "And will you have the goodness to tell
me what you think it will be?" inquired Elfonzo. "By all means,"
answered Ambulinia; "a rival, sir, you would fancy in your own mind;
but let me say for you, fear not! fear not! I will be one of the
last persons to disgrace my sex by thus encouraging every one who
may feel disposed to visit me, who may honor me with their graceful
bows and their choicest compliments. It is true that young men too
often mistake civil politeness for the finer emotions of the heart,
which is tantamount to courtship; but, ah! how often are they deceived,
when they come to test the weight of sunbeams with those on whose
strength hangs the future happiness of an untried life."

The people were now rushing to the Academy with impatient anxiety;
the band of music was closely followed by the students; then the parents
and guardians; nothing interrupted the glow of spirits which ran
through every bosom, tinged with the songs of a Virgil and the tide
of a Homer. Elfonzo and Ambulinia soon repaired to the scene,
and fortunately for them both the house was so crowded that they took
their seats together in the music department, which was not in view
of the auditory. This fortuitous circumstances added more the bliss
of the Major than a thousand such exhibitions would have done.
He forgot that he was man; music had lost its charms for him;
whenever he attempted to carry his part, the string of the instrument
would break, the bow became stubborn, and refused to obey the loud
calls of the audience. Here, he said, was the paradise of his home,
the long-sought-for opportunity; he felt as though he could
send a million supplications to the throne of Heaven for such
an exalted privilege. Poor Leos, who was somewhere in the crowd,
looking as attentively as if he was searching for a needle in a haystack;
here is stood, wondering to himself why Ambulinia was not there.
"Where can she be? Oh! if she was only here, how I could relish
the scene! Elfonzo is certainly not in town; but what if he is?
I have got the wealth, if I have not the dignity, and I am sure that
the squire and his lady have always been particular friends of mine,
and I think with this assurance I shall be able to get upon the blind
side of the rest of the family and make the heaven-born Ambulinia
the mistress of all I possess." Then, again, he would drop his head,
as if attempting to solve the most difficult problem in Euclid.
While he was thus conjecturing in his own mind, a very interesting
part of the exhibition was going on, which called the attention
of all present. The curtains of the stage waved continually
by the repelled forces that were given to them, which caused
Leos to behold Ambulinia leaning upon the chair of Elfonzo.
Her lofty beauty, seen by the glimmering of the chandelier,
filled his heart with rapture, he knew not how to contain himself;
to go where they were would expose him to ridicule; to continue
where he was, with such an object before him, without being allowed
an explanation in that trying hour, would be to the great injury
of his mental as well as of his physical powers; and, in the name
of high heaven, what must he do? Finally, he resolved to contain
himself as well as he conveniently could, until the scene was over,
and then he would plant himself at the door, to arrest Ambulinia from
the hands of the insolent Elfonzo, and thus make for himself a more
prosperous field of immortality than ever was decreed by Omnipotence,
or ever pencil drew or artist imagined. Accordingly he made
himself sentinel, immediately after the performance of the evening
--retained his position apparently in defiance of all the world; he waited,
he gazed at every lady, his whole frame trembled; here he stood,
until everything like human shape had disappeared from the institution,
and he had done nothing; he had failed to accomplish that which he
so eagerly sought for. Poor, unfortunate creature! he had not
the eyes of an Argus, or he might have seen his Juno and Elfonzo,
assisted by his friend Sigma, make their escape from the window,
and, with the rapidity of a race-horse, hurry through the blast of
the storm to the residence of her father, without being recognized.
He did not tarry long, but assured Ambulinia the endless chain
of their existence was more closely connected than ever, since he
had seen the virtuous, innocent, imploring, and the constant
Amelia murdered by the jealous-hearted Farcillo, the accursed of
the land.

The following is the tragical scene, which is only introduced
to show the subject-matter that enabled Elfonzo to come to such
a determinate resolution that nothing of the kind should ever
dispossess him of his true character, should he be so fortunate
as to succeed in his present undertaking.

Amelia was the wife of Farcillo, and a virtuous woman; Gracia,
a young lady, was her particular friend and confidant. Farcillo grew
jealous of Amelia, murders her, finds out that he was deceived,
AND STABS HIMSELF. Amelia appears alone, talking to herself.

A. Hail, ye solitary ruins of antiquity, ye sacred tombs and
silent walks! it is your aid I invoke; it is to you, my soul,
wrapt in deep mediating, pours forth its prayer. Here I wander upon
the stage of mortality, since the world hath turned against me.
Those whom I believed to be my friends, alas! are now my enemies,
planting thorns in all my paths, poisoning all my pleasures,
and turning the past to pain. What a lingering catalogue of sighs
and tears lies just before me, crowding my aching bosom with
the fleeting dream of humanity, which must shortly terminate.
And to what purpose will all this bustle of life, these agitations
and emotions of the heart have conduced, if it leave behind it
nothing of utility, if it leave no traces of improvement? Can it
be that I am deceived in my conclusions? No, I see that I have
nothing to hope for, but everything for fear, which tends to drive
me from the walks of time.


Oh! in this dead night, if loud winds arise,

To lash the surge and bluster in the skies,

May the west its furious rage display,

Toss me with storms in the watery way.


(Enter Gracia.)


G. Oh, Amelia, is it you, the object of grief, the daughter of opulence,
of wisdom and philosophy, that thus complaineth? It cannot be you
are the child of misfortune, speaking of the monuments of former ages,
which were allotted not for the reflection of the distressed,
but for the fearless and bold.

A. Not the child of poverty, Gracia, or the heir of glory and peace,
but of fate. Remember, I have wealth more than wit can number; I have
had power more than kings could emcompass; yet the world seems a desert;
all nature appears an afflictive spectacle of warring passions.
This blind fatality, that capriciously sports with the rules
and lives of mortals, tells me that the mountains will never again
send forth the water of their springs to my thirst. Oh, that I
might be freed and set at liberty from wretchedness! But I fear,
I fear this will never be.

G. Why, Amelia, this untimely grief? What has caused the sorrows
that bespeak better and happier days, to those lavish out such
heaps of misery? You are aware that your instructive lessons
embellish the mind with holy truths, by wedding its attention
to none but great and noble affections.

A. This, of course, is some consolation. I will ever love my own
species with feelings of a fond recollection, and while I am
studying to advance the universal philanthropy, and the spotless
name of my own sex, I will try to build my own upon the pleasing
belief that I have accelerated the advancement of one who whispers
of departed confidence.


And I, like some poor peasant fated to reside

Remote from friends, in a forest wide.

Oh, see what woman's woes and human wants require,

Since that great day hath spread the seed of sinful fire.


G. Look up, thou poor disconsolate; you speak of quitting
earthly enjoyments. Unfold thy bosom to a friend, who would be
willing to sacrifice every enjoyment for the restoration of the
dignity and gentleness of mind which used to grace your walks,
and which is so natural to yourself; not only that, but your
paths were strewed with flowers of every hue and of every order.


With verdant green the mountains glow,

For thee, for thee, the lilies grow;

Far stretched beneath the tented hills,

A fairer flower the valley fills.


A. Oh, would to Heaven I could give you a short narrative of my
former prospects for happiness, since you have acknowledged to be
an unchangeable confidant--the richest of all other blessings.
Oh, ye names forever glorious, ye celebrated scenes, ye renowned
spot of my hymeneal moments; how replete is your chart with
sublime reflections! How many profound vows, decorated with
immaculate deeds, are written upon the surface of that precious
spot of earth where I yielded up my life of celibacy, bade youth
with all its beauties a final adieu, took a last farewell of the
laurels that had accompanied me up the hill of my juvenile career.
It was then I began to descend toward the valley of disappointment
and sorrow; it was then I cast my little bark upon a mysterious ocean
of wedlock, with him who then smiled and caressed me, but, alas! now
frowns with bitterness, and has grown jealous and cold toward me,
because the ring he gave me is misplaced or lost. Oh, bear me,
ye flowers of memory, softly through the eventful history of
past times; and ye places that have witnessed the progression of man
in the circle of so many societies, and, of, aid my recollection,
while I endeavor to trace the vicissitudes of a life devoted
in endeavoring to comfort him that I claim as the object of my wishes.


Ah! ye mysterious men, of all the world, how few

Act just to Heaven and to your promise true!

But He who guides the stars with a watchful eye,

The deeds of men lay open without disguise;

Oh, this alone will avenge the wrongs I bear,

For all the oppressed are His peculiar care.


(F. makes a slight noise.)


A. Who is there--Farcillo?

G. Then I must gone. Heaven protect you. Oh, Amelia, farewell,
be of good cheer.


May you stand like Olympus' towers,

Against earth and all jealous powers!

May you, with loud shouts ascend on high

Swift as an eagle in the upper sky.


A. Why so cold and distant tonight, Farcillo? Come, let us each
other greet, and forget all the past, and give security for the future.

F. Security! talk to me about giving security for the future
--what an insulting requisition! Have you said your prayers tonight,
Madam Amelia?

A. Farcillo, we sometimes forget our duty, particularly when we
expect to be caressed by others.

F. If you bethink yourself of any crime, or of any fault, that is
yet concealed from the courts of Heaven and the thrones of grace,
I bid you ask and solicit forgiveness for it now.

A. Oh, be kind, Farcillo, don't treat me so. What do you mean
by all this?

F. Be kind, you say; you, madam, have forgot that kindness you owe
to me, and bestowed it upon another; you shall suffer for your
conduct when you make your peace with your God. I would not slay thy
unprotected spirit. I call to Heaven to be my guard and my watch
--I would not kill thy soul, in which all once seemed just, right,
and perfect; but I must be brief, woman.

A. What, talk you of killing? Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo, what is
the matter?

F. Aye, I do, without doubt; mark what I say, Amelia.

A. Then, O God, O Heaven, and Angels, be propitious, and have mercy
upon me.

F. Amen to that, madam, with all my heart, and with all my soul.

A. Farcillo, listen to me one moment; I hope you will not kill me.

F. Kill you, aye, that I will; attest it, ye fair host of light,
record it, ye dark imps of hell!

A. Oh, I fear you--you are fatal when darkness covers your brow;
yet I know not why I should fear, since I never wronged you in all
my life. I stand, sir, guiltless before you.

F. You pretend to say you are guiltless! Think of thy sins,
Amelia; think, oh, think, hidden woman.

A. Wherein have I not been true to you? That death is unkind,
cruel, and unnatural, that kills for living.

F. Peace, and be still while I unfold to thee.

A. I will, Farcillo, and while I am thus silent, tell me the cause
of such cruel coldness in an hour like this.

F. That RING, oh, that ring I so loved, and gave thee as the ring
of my heart; the allegiance you took to be faithful, when it
was presented; the kisses and smiles with which you honored it.
You became tired of the donor, despised it as a plague, and finally
gave it to Malos, the hidden, the vile traitor.

A. No, upon my word and honor, I never did; I appeal to the Most
High to bear me out in this matter. Send for Malos, and ask him.

F. Send for Malos, aye! Malos you wish to see; I thought so.
I knew you could not keep his name concealed. Amelia, sweet Amelia,
take heed, take heed of perjury; you are on the stage of death,
to suffer for YOUR SINS.

A. What, not to die I hope, my Farcillo, my ever beloved.

F. Yes, madam, to die a traitor's death. Shortly your spirit shall
take its exit; therefore confess freely thy sins, for to deny tends
only to make me groan under the bitter cup thou hast made for me.
Thou art to die with the name of traitor on thy brow!

A. Then, O Lord, have mercy upon me; give me courage, give me grace
and fortitude to stand this hour of trial.

F. Amen, I say, with all my heart.

A. And, oh, Farcillo, will you have mercy, too? I never
intentionally offended you in all my life, never LOVED Malos,
never gave him cause to think so, as the high court of Justice
will acquit me before its tribunal.

F. Oh, false, perjured woman, thou didst chill my blood, and makest
me a demon like thyself. I saw the ring.

A. He found it, then, or got it clandestinely; send for him,
and let him confess the truth; let his confession be sifted.

F. And you still wish to see him! I tell you, madam, he hath
already confessed, and thou knowest the darkness of thy heart.

A. What, my deceived Farcillo, that I gave him the ring, in which
all my affections were concentrated? Oh, surely not.

F. Aye, he did. Ask thy conscience, and it will speak with a voice
of thunder to thy soul.

A. He will not say so, he dare not, he cannot.

F. No, he will not say so now, because his mouth, I trust, is hushed
in death, and his body stretched to the four winds of heaven,
to be torn to pieces by carnivorous birds.

A. What, he is dead, and gone to the world of spirits with that
declaration in his mouth? Oh, unhappy man! Oh, insupportable hour!

F. Yes, and had all his sighs and looks and tears been lives, my great
revenge could have slain them all, without the least condemnation.

A. Alas! he is ushered into eternity without testing the matter
for which I am abused and sentenced and condemned to die.

F. Cursed, infernal woman! Weepest thou for him to my face? He that
hath robbed me of my peace, my energy, the whole love of my life?
Could I call the fabled Hydra, I would have him live and perish,
survive and die, until the sun itself would grow dim with age.
I would make him have the thirst of a Tantalus, and roll the
wheel of an Ixion, until the stars of heaven should quit their
brilliant stations.

A. Oh, invincible God, save me! Oh, unsupportable moment! Oh, heavy
hour! Banish me, Farcillo--send me where no eye can ever see me, where
no sound shall ever great my ear; but, oh, slay me not, Farcillo; vent thy
rage and thy spite upon this emaciated frame of mine, only spare my life.

F. Your petitions avail nothing, cruel Amelia.

A. Oh, Farcillo, perpetrate the dark deed tomorrow; let me live
till then, for my past kindness to you, and it may be some kind
angel will show to you that I am not only the object of innocence,
but one who never loved another but your noble self.

F. Amelia, the decree has gone forth, it is to be done, and that quickly;
thou art to die, madam.

A. But half an hour allow me, to see my father and my only child,
to tell her the treachery and vanity of this world.

F. There is no alternative, there is no pause: my daughter shall
not see its deceptive mother die; your father shall not know that his
daughter fell disgraced, despised by all but her enchanting Malos.

A. Oh, Farcillo, put up thy threatening dagger into its scabbard;
let it rest and be still, just while I say one prayer for thee and
for my child.

F. It is too late, thy doom is fixed, thou hast not confessed
to Heaven or to me, my child's protector--thou art to die.
Ye powers of earth and heaven, protect and defend me in this alone.
(STABS HER WHILE IMPLORING FOR MERCY.)

A. Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo, a guiltless death I die.

F. Die! die! die!


(Gracia enters running, falls on her knees weeping, and kisses Amelia.)


G. Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo! oh, Farcillo!

F. I am here, the genius of the age, and the avenger of my wrongs.

G. Oh, lady, speak once more; sweet Amelia, on, speak again.
Gone, gone--yes, forever gone! Farcillo, oh, cold-hearted Farcillo,
some evil fiend hath urged you to do this, Farcillo.

F. Say not so again, or you shall receive the same fate. I did
the glorious deed, madam--beware, then, how you talk.

G. I fear not your implements of war; I will let you know you have
not the power to do me harm. If you have a heart of triple brass,
it shall be reached and melted, and thy blood shall chill thy veins
and grow stiff in thy arteries. Here is the ring of the virtuous
and innocent murdered Amelia; I obtained it from Malos, who yet lives,
in hopes that he will survive the wound given him, and says he got
it clandestinely--declares Amelia to be the princess of truth and virtue,
invulnerable to anything like forgetting her first devotion to thee.
The world has heard of your conduct and your jealousy, and with
one universal voice declares her to be the best of all in piety;
that she is the star of this great universe, and a more virtuous
woman never lived since the wheels of time began. Oh, had you waited
till tomorrow, or until I had returned, some kind window would have
been opened to her relief. But, alas! she is gone--yes, forever gone,
to try the realities of an unknown world!


(Farcillo leaning over the body of Amelia.)


F. Malos not dead, and here is my ring! Oh, Amelia! falsely murdered!
Oh, bloody deed! Oh, wretch that I am! Oh, angels forgive me! Oh, God,
withhold thy vengeance! Oh, Amelia! if Heaven would make a thousand
worlds like this, set with diamonds, and all of one perfect chrysolite,
I would not have done this for them all, I would not have frowned
and cursed as I did. Oh, she was heavenly true, nursed in the very
lap of bright angels! Cursed slave that I am! Jealousy, oh! thou
infernal demon! Lost, lost to every sense of honor! Oh! Amelia
--heaven-born Amelia--dead, dead! Oh! oh! oh!--then let me die with
thee. Farewell! farewell! ye world that deceived me! (STABS HIMSELF.)


Soon after the excitement of this tragical scene was over,
and the enlisted feeling for Amelia had grown more buoyant with
Elfonzo and Ambulinia, he determined to visit his retired home,
and make the necessary improvements to enjoy a better day;
consequently he conveyed the following lines to Ambulinia:


Go tell the world that hope is glowing,

Go bid the rocks their silence break,

Go tell the stars that love is glowing,

Then bid the hero his lover take.


In the region where scarcely the foot of man hath ever trod,
where the woodman hath not found his way, lies a blooming grove,
seen only by the sun when he mounts his lofty throne, visited only
by the light of the stars, to whom are entrusted the guardianship
of earth, before the sun sinks to rest in his rosy bed. High cliffs
of rocks surround the romantic place, and in the small cavity of
the rocky wall grows the daffodil clear and pure; and as the wind
blows along the enchanting little mountain which surrounds the
lonely spot, it nourishes the flowers with the dew-drops of heaven.
Here is the seat of Elfonzo; darkness claims but little victory over
this dominion, and in vain does she spread out her gloomy wings.
Here the waters flow perpetually, and the trees lash their tops
together to bid the welcome visitor a happy muse. Elfonzo, during his
short stay in the country, had fully persuaded himself that it was
his duty to bring this solemn matter to an issue. A duty that he
individually owed, as a gentleman, to the parents of Ambulinia,
a duty in itself involving not only his own happiness and his own
standing in society, but one that called aloud the act of the parties
to make it perfect and complete. How he should communicate his
intentions to get a favorable reply, he was at a loss to know;
he knew not whether to address Esq. Valeer in prose or in poetry,
in a jocular or an argumentative manner, or whether he should use
moral suasion, legal injunction, or seizure and take by reprisal;
if it was to do the latter, he would have no difficulty in deciding
in his own mind, but his gentlemanly honor was at stake; so he
concluded to address the following letter to the father and mother
of Ambulinia, as his address in person he knew would only aggravate
the old gentleman, and perhaps his lady.



Cumming, Ga., January 22, 1844

Mr. and Mrs. Valeer--

Again I resume the pleasing task of addressing you, and once more beg
an immediate answer to my many salutations. From every circumstance
that has taken place, I feel in duty bound to comply with my obligations;
to forfeit my word would be more than I dare do; to break my pledge,
and my vows that have been witnessed, sealed, and delivered in the
presence of an unseen Deity, would be disgraceful on my part, as well
as ruinous to Ambulinia. I wish no longer to be kept in suspense
about this matter. I wish to act gentlemanly in every particular.
It is true, the promises I have made are unknown to any but Ambulinia,
and I think it unnecessary to here enumerate them, as they who
promise the most generally perform the least. Can you for a moment
doubt my sincerity or my character? My only wish is, sir, that you
may calmly and dispassionately look at the situation of the case,
and if your better judgment should dictate otherwise, my obligations
may induce me to pluck the flower that you so diametrically opposed.
We have sword by the saints--by the gods of battle, and by that
faith whereby just men are made perfect--to be united. I hope,
my dear sir, you will find it convenient as well as agreeable
to give me a favorable answer, with the signature of Mrs. Valeer,
as well as yourself.


With very great esteem,

your humble servant,

J. I. Elfonzo.



The moon and stars had grown pale when Ambulinia had retired
to rest. A crowd of unpleasant thoughts passed through her bosom.
Solitude dwelt in her chamber--no sound from the neighboring
world penetrated its stillness; it appeared a temple of silence,
of repose, and of mystery. At that moment she heard a still voice
calling her father. In an instant, like the flash of lightning,
a thought ran through her mind that it must be the bearer
of Elfonzo's communication. "It is not a dream!" she said,
"no, I cannot read dreams. Oh! I would to Heaven I was near
that glowing eloquence--that poetical language--it charms the
mind in an inexpressible manner, and warms the coldest heart."
While consoling herself with this strain, her father rushed into
her room almost frantic with rage, exclaiming: "Oh, Ambulinia!
Ambulinia!! undutiful, ungrateful daughter! What does this mean?
Why does this letter bear such heart-rending intelligence?
Will you quit a father's house with this debased wretch, without a
place to lay his distracted head; going up and down the country,
with every novel object that many chance to wander through this region.
He is a pretty man to make love known to his superiors, and you,
Ambulinia, have done but little credit to yourself by honoring
his visits. Oh, wretchedness! can it be that my hopes of happiness
are forever blasted! Will you not listen to a father's entreaties,
and pay some regard to a mother's tears. I know, and I do pray that God
will give me fortitude to bear with this sea of troubles, and rescue
my daughter, my Ambulinia, as a brand from the eternal burning."
"Forgive me, father, oh! forgive thy child," replied Ambulinia.
"My heart is ready to break, when I see you in this grieved state
of agitation. Oh! think not so meanly of me, as that I mourn
for my own danger. Father, I am only woman. Mother, I am only
the templement of thy youthful years, but will suffer courageously
whatever punishment you think proper to inflict upon me, if you will
but allow me to comply with my most sacred promises--if you will but
give me my personal right and my personal liberty. Oh, father! if
your generosity will but give me these, I ask nothing more.
When Elfonzo offered me his heart, I gave him my hand, never to
forsake him, and now may the mighty God banish me before I leave him
in adversity. What a heart must I have to rejoice in prosperity
with him whose offers I have accepted, and then, when poverty comes,
haggard as it may be, for me to trifle with the oracles of Heaven,
and change with every fluctuation that may interrupt our happiness
--like the politician who runs the political gantlet for office one day,
and the next day, because the horizon is darkened a little, he is
seen running for his life, for fear he might perish in its ruins.
Where is the philosophy, where is the consistency, where is the charity,
in conduct like this? Be happy then, my beloved father, and forget me;
let the sorrow of parting break down the wall of separation and make
us equal in our feeling; let me now say how ardently I love you;
let me kiss that age-worn cheek, and should my tears bedew thy face,
I will wipe them away. Oh, I never can forget you; no, never, never!"