albert savarus-第11章

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expression　of　their　feelings〃what　is　extraordinary　in　the　fact　of
your　loving　a　young　and　beautiful　woman；　artist　enough　to　be　able　to
earn　her　living　like　Tinti；　and　of　giving　you　some　of　the　pleasures　of
vanity？　What　lout　but　would　then　become　an　Amadis？　This　is　not　in
question　between　you　and　me。　What　is　needed　is　that　we　both　love
faithfully；　persistently；　at　a　distance　from　each　other　for　years；
with　no　satisfaction　but　that　of　knowing　that　we　are　loved。〃

〃Alas！〃　said　Rodolphe；　〃will　you　not　consider　my　fidelity　as　devoid　of
all　merit　when　you　see　me　absorbed　in　the　efforts　of　devouring
ambition？　Do　you　imagine　that　I　can　wish　to　see　you　one　day　exchange
the　fine　name　of　Gandolphini　for　that　of　a　man　who　is　a　nobody？　I　want
to　become　one　of　the　most　remarkable　men　of　my　country；　to　be　rich；
greatthat　you　may　be　as　proud　of　my　name　as　of　your　own　name　of
Colonna。〃

〃I　should　be　grieved　to　see　you　without　such　sentiments　in　your
heart；〃　she　replied；　with　a　bewitching　smile。　〃But　do　not　wear
yourself　out　too　soon　in　your　ambitious　labors。　Remain　young。　They　say
that　politics　soon　make　a　man　old。〃

One　of　the　rarest　gifts　in　women　is　a　certain　gaiety　which　does　not
detract　from　tenderness。　This　combination　of　deep　feeling　with　the
lightness　of　youth　added　an　enchanting　grace　at　this　moment　to
Francesca's　charms。　This　is　the　key　to　her　character；　she　laughs　and
she　is　touched；　she　becomes　enthusiastic；　and　returns　to　arch　raillery
with　a　readiness；　a　facility；　which　makes　her　the　charming　and
exquisite　creature　she　is；　and　for　which　her　reputation　is　known
outside　Italy。　Under　the　graces　of　a　woman　she　conceals　vast　learning；
thanks　to　the　excessively　monotonous　and　almost　monastic　life　she　led
in　the　castle　of　the　old　Colonnas。

This　rich　heiress　was　at　first　intended　for　the　cloister；　being　the
fourth　child　of　Prince　and　Princess　Colonna；　but　the　death　of　her　two
brothers；　and　of　her　elder　sister；　suddenly　brought　her　out　of　her
retirement；　and　made　her　one　of　the　most　brilliant　matches　in　the
Papal　States。　Her　elder　sister　had　been　betrothed　to　Prince
Gandolphini；　one　of　the　richest　landowners　in　Sicily；　and　Francesca
was　married　to　him　instead；　so　that　nothing　might　be　changed　in　the
position　of　the　family。　The　Colonnas　and　Gandolphinis　had　always
intermarried。

From　the　age　of　nine　till　she　was　sixteen；　Francesca；　under　the
direction　of　a　Cardinal　of　the　family；　had　read　all　through　the
library　of　the　Colonnas；　to　make　weight　against　her　ardent　imagination
by　studying　science；　art；　and　letters。　But　in　these　studies　she
acquired　the　taste　for　independence　and　liberal　ideas；　which　threw
her；　with　her　husband；　into　the　ranks　of　the　revolution。　Rodolphe　had
not　yet　learned　that；　besides　five　living　languages；　Francesca　knew
Greek；　Latin；　and　Hebrew。　The　charming　creature　perfectly　understood
that；　for　a　woman；　the　first　condition　of　being　learned　is　to　keep　it
deeply　hidden。

Rodolphe　spent　the　whole　winter　at　Geneva。　This　winter　passed　like　a
day。　When　spring　returned；　notwithstanding　the　infinite　delights　of
the　society　of　a　clever　woman；　wonderfully　well　informed；　young　and
lovely；　the　lover　went　through　cruel　sufferings；　endured　indeed　with
courage；　but　which　were　sometimes　legible　in　his　countenance；　and
betrayed　themselves　in　his　manners　or　speech；　perhaps　because　he
believed　that　Francesca　shared　them。　Now　and　again　it　annoyed　him　to
admire　her　calmness。　Like　an　Englishwoman；　she　seemed　to　pride　herself
on　expressing　nothing　in　her　face；　its　serenity　defied　love；　he　longed
to　see　her　agitated；　he　accused　her　of　having　no　feeling；　for　he
believed　in　the　tradition　which　ascribes　to　Italian　women　a　feverish
excitability。

〃I　am　a　Roman！〃　Francesca　gravely　replied　one　day　when　she　took　quite
seriously　some　banter　on　this　subject　from　Rodolphe。

There　was　a　depth　of　tone　in　her　reply　which　gave　it　the　appearance　of
scathing　irony；　and　which　set　Rodolphe's　pulses　throbbing。　The　month
of　May　spread　before　them　the　treasures　of　her　fresh　verdure；　the　sun
was　sometimes　as　powerful　as　at　midsummer。　The　two　lovers　happened　to
be　at　a　part　of　the　terrace　where　the　rock　arises　abruptly　from　the
lake；　and　were　leaning　over　the　stone　parapet　that　crowns　the　wall
above　a　flight　of　steps　leading　down　to　a　landing…stage。　From　the
neighboring　villa；　where　there　is　a　similar　stairway；　a　boat　presently
shot　out　like　a　swan；　its　flag　flaming；　its　crimson　awning　spread　over
a　lovely　woman　comfortably　reclining　on　red　cushions；　her　hair
wreathed　with　real　flowers；　the　boatman　was　a　young　man　dressed　like　a
sailor；　and　rowing　with　all　the　more　grace　because　he　was　under　the
lady's　eye。

〃They　are　happy！〃　exclaimed　Rodolphe；　with　bitter　emphasis。　〃Claire　de
Bourgogne；　the　last　survivor　of　the　only　house　which　can　ever　vie　with
the　royal　family　of　France〃

〃Oh！　of　a　bastard　branch；　and　that　a　female　line。〃

〃At　any　rate；　she　is　Vicomtesse　de　Beauseant；　and　she　did　not〃

〃Did　not　hesitate；　you　would　say；　to　bury　herself　here　with　Monsieur
Gaston　de　Nueil；　you　would　say；〃　replied　the　daughter　of　the　Colonnas。
〃She　is　only　a　Frenchwoman；　I　am　an　Italian；　my　dear　sir！〃

Francesca　turned　away　from　the　parapet；　leaving　Rodolphe；　and　went　to
the　further　end　of　the　terrace；　whence　there　is　a　wide　prospect　of　the
lake。　Watching　her　as　she　slowly　walked　away；　Rodolphe　suspected　that
he　had　wounded　her　soul；　at　once　so　simple　and　so　wise；　so　proud　and
so　humble。　It　turned　him　cold；　he　followed　Francesca；　who　signed　to
him　to　leave　her　to　herself。　But　he　did　not　heed　the　warning；　and
detected　her　wiping　away　her　tears。　Tears！　in　so　strong　a　nature。

〃Francesca；〃　said　he；　taking　her　hand；　〃is　there　a　single　regret　in
your　heart？〃

She　was　silent；　disengaged　her　hand　which　held　her　embroidered
handkerchief；　and　again　dried　her　eyes。

〃Forgive　me！〃　he　said。　And　with　a　rush；　he　kissed　her　eyes　to　wipe
away　the　tears。

Francesca　did　not　seem　aware　of　his　passionate　impulse；　she　was　so
violently　agitated。　Rodolphe；　thinking　she　consented；　grew　bolder；　he
put　his　arm　round　her；　clasped　her　to　his　heart；　and　snatched　a　kiss。
But　she　freed　herself　by　a　dignified　movement　of　offended　modesty；
and；　standing　a　yard　off；　she　looked　at　him　without　anger；　but　with
firm　determination。

〃Go　this　evening；〃　she　said。　〃We　meet　no　more　till　we　meet　at　Naples。〃

This　order　was　stern；　but　it　was　obeyed；　for　it　was　Francesca's　will。



On　his　return　to　Paris　Rodolphe　found　in　his　rooms　a　portrait　of
Princess　Gandolphini　painted　by　Schinner；　as　Schinner　can　paint。　The
artist　had　passed　through　Geneva　on　his　way　to　Italy。　As　he　had
positively　refused　to　paint　the　portraits　of　several　women；　Rodolphe
did　not　believe　that　the　Prince；　anxious　as　he　was　for　a　portrait　of
his　wife；　would　be　able　to　conquer　the　great　painter's　objections；　but
Francesca；　no　doubt；　had　bewitched　him；　and　obtained　from　himwhich
was　almost　a　miraclean　original　portrait　for　Rodolphe；　and　a
duplicate　for　Emilio。　She　told　him　this　in　a　charming　and　delightful
letter；　in　which　the　mind　indemnified　itself　for　the　reserve　required
by　the　worship　of　the　proprieties。　The　lover　replied。　Thus　began；
never　to　cease；　a　regular　correspondence　between　Rodolphe　and
Francesca；　the　only　indulgence　they　allowed　themselves。

Rodolphe；　possessed　by　an　ambition　sanctified　by　his　love；　set　to
work。　First　he　longed　to　make　his　fortune；　and　risked　his　all　in　an
undertaking　to　which　he　devoted　all　his　faculties　as　well　as　his
capital；　but　he；　an　inexperienced　youth；　had　to　contend　against
duplicity；　which　won　the　day。　Thus　three　years　were　lost　in　a　vast
enterprise；　three　years　of　struggling　and　courage。

The　Villele　ministry　fell　just　when　Rodolphe　was　ruined。　The　valiant
lover　thought　he　would　seek　in　politics　what　commercial　industry　had
refused　him；　but　before　braving　the　storms　of　this　career；　he　went；
all　wounded　and　sick　at　heart；　to　have　his　bruises　healed　and　his
courage　revived　at　Naples；　where　the　Prince　and　Princess　had　been
reinstated　in　their　place　and　rights　on　the　King's　accession。　This；　in
the　midst　of　his　warfare；　was　a　respite　full　of　delights；　he　spent
three　months　at　the　Villa　Gandolphini；　rocked　in　hope。

Rodolphe　then　began　again　to　construct　his　fortune。　His　talents　were
already　known；　he　was　about　to　attain　the　desires　of　his　ambition；　a
high　position　was　promised　him　as　the　reward　of　his　zeal；　his
devotion；　and　his　past　services；　when　the　storm　of　July　1830　broke；
and　again　his　bark　was　swamped。

She；　and　God！　These　are　the　only　witnesses　of　the　brave　efforts；　the
daring　attempts　of　a　young　man　gifted　with　fine　qualities；　but　to
whom；　so　far；　the　protection　of　luckthe　god　of　foolshas　been
denied。　And　this　indefatigable　wrestler；　upheld　by　love；　comes　back　to
fresh　struggles；　lighted　on　his　way　by　an　always　friendly　eye；　an　ever
faithful　heart。

Lovers！　Pray　for　him！

*****

As　she　finished　this　narrative；　Mademoiselle　de　Watteville's　cheeks
were　on　fire；　there　was　a　fever　in　her　blood。　She　was　cryingbut　with
rage。　This　little　novel；　inspired　by　the　literary　style　then　in
fashion；　was　the　first　reading　of　the　kind　that　Rosalie　had　ever　had
the　chance　of　devouring。　Love　was　depicted　in　it；　if　not　by　a　master…
hand；　at　any　rate　by　a　man　who　seemed　to　give　his　own　impressions；　and
truth；　even　if　unskilled；　could　not　fail　to　touch　a　virgin　soul。　Here
lay　the　secret　of　Rosalie's　terrible　agitation；　of　her　fever　and　her
tears；　she　was　jealous　of　Francesca　Colonna。

She　never　for　an　instant　doubted　the　sincerity　of　this　poetical
flight；　Albert　had　taken　pleasure　in　telling　the　story　of　his　passion；
while　changing　the　names　of　persons　and　perhaps　of　places。　Rosalie　was
possessed　by　infernal　curiosity。　What　woman　but　would；　like　her；　have
wanted　to　know　her　rival's　namefor　she　too　loved！　As　she　read　these
pages；　to　her　really　contagious；　she　had　said　solemnly　to　herself；　〃I
love　him！〃She　loved　Albert；　and　felt　in　her　heart　a　gnawing　desire
to　fight　for　him；　to　snatch　him　from　this　unknown　rival。　She　reflected
that　she　knew　nothing　of　music；　and　that　she　was　not　beautiful。

〃He　will　never　love　me！〃　thought　she。

This　conclusion　aggravated　her　anxiety　to　know　whether　she　might　not
be　mistaken；　whether　Albert　really　loved　an　Italian　Princess；　and　was
loved　by　her。　In　the　course　of　this　fateful　night；　the　power　of　swift
decision；　which　had　characterized　the　famous　Watteville；　was　fully
developed　in　his　descendant。　She　devised　those　whimsical　schemes；
round　which　hovers　the　imagination　of　most　young　girls　when；　in　the
solitude　to　which　some　injudicious　mothers　confine　them；　they　are
roused　by　some　tremendous　event　which　the　system　of　repression　to
which　they　are　subjected　could　neither　foresee　nor　prevent。　She
dreamed　of　descending　by　a　ladder　from　the　kiosk　into　the　garden　of
the　house　occupied　by　Albert；　of　taking　advantage　of　the　lawyer's
being　asleep　to　look　through　the　window　into　his　private　room。　She
thought　of　writing　to　him；　or　of　bursting　the　fetters　of　Besancon
society　by　introducing　Albert　to　the　drawing…room　of　the　Hotel　de
Rupt。　This　enterprise；　which　to　the　Abbe　de　Grancey　even　would　have
seemed　the　climax　of　the　impossib