massimilla doni-第5章

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　　to…night　to　Vendramin；　who　tells　me　he　has　a　room　ready　for　you　in
　　his　house。　What　shall　I　do？　Can　I　remain　in　Venice　to　see　my
　　husband　and　his　opera　singer？　Shall　we　go　back　together　to　Friuli？
　　Write　me　one　word；　if　only　to　tell　me　what　the　letter　was　you
　　tossed　into　the　lagoon。


〃MASSIMILLA　DONI。〃

The　writing　and　the　scent　of　the　paper　brought　a　thousand　memories
back　to　the　young　Venetian's　mind。　The　sun　of　a　single…minded　passion
threw　its　radiance　on　the　blue　depths　come　from　so　far；　collected　in　a
bottomless　pool；　and　shining　like　a　star。　The　noble　youth　could　not
restrain　the　tears　that　flowed　freely　from　his　eyes；　for　in　the
languid　state　produced　by　satiated　senses　he　was　disarmed　by　the
thought　of　that　purer　divinity。

Even　in　her　sleep　Clarina　heard　his　weeping；　she　sat　up　in　bed；　saw
her　Prince　in　a　dejected　attitude；　and　threw　herself　at　his　knees。

〃They　are　still　waiting　for　the　answer；〃　said　Carmagnola；　putting　the
curtain　aside。

〃Wretch；　you　have　undone　me！〃　cried　Emilio；　starting　up　and　spurning
Clarina　with　his　foot。

She　clutched　it　so　lovingly；　her　look　imploring　some　explanation；the
look　of　a　tear…stained　Samaritan；that　Emilio；　enraged　to　find
himself　still　in　the　toils　of　the　passion　that　had　wrought　his　fall；
pushed　away　the　singer　with　an　unmanly　kick。

〃You　told　me　to　kill　you；then　die；　venomous　reptile！〃　he　exclaimed。

He　left　the　palace；　and　sprang　into　his　gondola。

〃Pull；〃　said　he　to　Carmagnola。

〃Where？〃　asked　the　old　servant。

〃Where　you　will。〃

The　gondolier　divined　his　master's　wishes；　and　by　many　windings
brought　him　at　last　into　the　Canareggio；　to　the　door　of　a　wonderful
palazzo；　which　you　will　admire　when　you　see　Venice；　for　no　traveler
ever　fails　to　stop　in　front　of　those　windows；　each　of　a　different
design；　vying　with　each　other　in　fantastic　ornament；　with　balconies
like　lace…work；　to　study　the　corners　finishing　in　tall　and　slender
twisted　columns；　the　string…courses　wrought　by　so　inventive　a　chisel
that　no　two　shapes　are　alike　in　the　arabesques　on　the　stones。

How　charming　is　that　doorway！　how　mysterious　the　vaulted　arcade
leading　to　the　stairs！　Who　could　fail　to　admire　the　steps　on　which
ingenious　art　has　laid　a　carpet　that　will　last　while　Venice　stands；a
carpet　as　rich　as　if　wrought　in　Turkey；　but　composed　of　marbles　in
endless　variety　of　shapes；　inlaid　in　white　marble。　You　will　delight　in
the　charming　ornament　of　the　colonnades　of　the　upper　story；gilt　like
those　of　a　ducal　palace；so　that　the　marvels　of　art　are　both　under
your　feet　and　above　your　head。

What　delicate　shadows！　How　silent；　how　cool！　But　how　solemn；　too；　was
that　old　palace！　where；　to　delight　Emilio　and　his　friend　Vendramin；
the　Duchess　had　collected　antique　Venetian　furniture；　and　employed
skilled　hands　to　restore　the　ceilings。　There；　old　Venice　lived　again。
The　splendor　was　not　merely　noble；　it　was　instructive。　The
archaeologist　would　have　found　there　such　models　of　perfection　as　the
middle　ages　produced；　having　taken　example　from　Venice。　Here　were　to
be　seen　the　original　ceilings　of　woodwork　covered　with　scrolls　and
flowers　in　gold　on　a　colored　ground；　or　in　colors　on　gold；　and
ceilings　of　gilt　plaster　castings；　with　a　picture　of　many　figures　in
each　corner；　with　a　splendid　fresco　in　the　centre；a　style　so　costly
that　there　are　not　two　in　the　Louvre；　and　that　the　extravagance　of
Louis　XIV。　shrunk　from　such　expense　at　Versailles。　On　all　sides
marble；　wood；　and　silk　had　served　as　materials　for　exquisite
workmanship。

Emilio　pushed　open　a　carved　oak　door；　made　his　way　down　the　long；
vaulted　passage　which　runs　from　end　to　end　on　each　floor　of　a　Venetian
palazzo；　and　stopped　before　another　door；　so　familiar　that　it　made　his
heart　beat。　On　seeing　him；　a　lady　companion　came　out　of　a　vast
drawing…room；　and　admitted　him　to　a　study　where　he　found　the　Duchess
on　her　knees　in　front　of　a　Madonna。

He　had　come　to　confess　and　ask　forgiveness。　Massimilla；　in　prayer；　had
converted　him。　He　and　God；　nothing　else　dwelt　in　that　heart。

The　Duchess　rose　very　unaffectedly；　and　held　out　her　hand。　Her　lover
did　not　take　it。

〃Did　not　Gianbattista　see　you；　yesterday？〃　she　asked。

〃No；〃　he　replied。

〃That　piece　of　ill…luck　gave　me　a　night　of　misery。　I　was　so　afraid
lest　you　might　meet　the　Duke；　whose　perversity　I　know　too　well。　What
made　Vendramin　let　your　palace　to　him？〃

〃It　was　a　good　idea；　Milla；　for　your　Prince　is　poor　enough。〃

Massimilla　was　so　beautiful　in　her　trust　of　him；　and　so　wonderfully
lovely；　so　happy　in　Emilio's　presence；　that　at　this　moment　the　Prince；
wide　awake；　experienced　the　sensations　of　the　horrible　dream　that
torments　persons　of　a　lively　imagination；　in　which　after　arriving　in　a
ballroom　full　of　women　in　full　dress；　the　dreamer　is　suddenly　aware
that　he　is　naked；　without　even　a　shirt；　shame　and　terror　possess　him
by　turns；　and　only　waking　can　relieve　him　from　his　misery。　Thus　stood
Emilio's　soul　in　the　presence　of　his　mistress。　Hitherto　that　soul　had
known　only　the　fairest　flowers　of　feeling；　a　debauch　had　plunged　it
into　dishonor。　This　none　knew　but　he；　for　the　beautiful　Florentine
ascribed　so　many　virtues　to　her　lover　that　the　man　she　adored　could
not　but　be　incapable　of　any　stain。

As　Emilio　had　not　taken　her　hand；　the　Duchess　pushed　her　fingers
through　his　hair　that　the　singer　had　kissed。　Then　she　perceived　that
Emilio's　hand　was　clammy　and　his　brow　moist。

〃What　ails　you？〃　she　asked；　in　a　voice　to　which　tenderness　gave　the
sweetness　of　a　flute。

〃Never　till　this　moment　have　I　known　how　much　I　love　you；〃　he　replied。

〃Well；　dear　idol；　what　would　you　have？〃　said　she。

〃What　have　I　done　to　make　her　ask　that？〃　he　wondered　to　himself。

〃Emilio；　what　letter　was　that　which　you　threw　into　the　lagoon？〃

〃Vendramini's。　I　had　not　read　it　to　the　end；　or　I　should　never　have
gone　to　my　palazzo；　and　there　have　met　the　Duke；　for　no　doubt　it　told
me　all　about　it。〃

Massimilla　turned　pale；　but　a　caress　from　Emilio　reassured　her。

〃Stay　with　me　all　day；　we　will　go　to　the　opera　together。　We　will　not
set　out　for　Friuli；　your　presence　will　no　doubt　enable　me　to　endure
Cataneo's；〃　said　Massimilla。

Though　this　would　be　torment　to　her　lover's　soul；　he　consented　with
apparent　joy。

If　anything　can　give　us　a　foretaste　of　what　the　damned　will　suffer　on
finding　themselves　so　unworthy　of　God；　is　it　not　the　state　of　a　young
man；　as　yet　unpolluted；　in　the　presence　of　a　mistress　he　reveres；
while　he　still　feels　on　his　lips　the　taste　of　infidelity；　and　brings
into　the　sanctuary　of　the　divinity　he　worships　the　tainted　atmosphere
of　the　courtesan？

Baader；　who　in　his　lectures　eliminated　things　divine　by　erotic
imagery；　had　no　doubt　observed；　like　some　Catholic　writers；　the
intimate　resemblance　between　human　and　heavenly　love。

This　distress　of　mind　cast　a　hue　of　melancholy　over　the　pleasure　the
young　Venetian　felt　in　his　mistress'　presence。　A　woman's　instinct　has
amazing　aptitude　for　harmony　of　feeling；　it　assumes　the　hue；　it
vibrates　to　the　note　suggested　by　her　lover。　The　pungent　flavor　of
coquettish　spice　is　far　indeed　from　spurring　affection　so　much　as　this
gentle　sympathy　of　tenderness。　The　smartness　of　a　coquette　too　clearly
marks　opposition；　however　transient　it　is　displeasing；　but　this
intimate　comprehension　shows　a　perfect　fusion　of　souls。　The　hapless
Emilio　was　touched　by　the　unspoken　divination　which　led　the　Duchess　to
pity　a　fault　unknown　to　her。

Massimilla；　feeling　that　her　strength　lay　in　the　absence　of　any
sensual　side　to　her　love；　could　allow　herself　to　be　expansive；　she
boldly　and　confidently　poured　out　her　angelic　spirit；　she　stripped　it
bare；　just　as　during　that　diabolical　night；　La　Tinti　had　displayed　the
soft　lines　of　her　body；　and　her　firm；　elastic　flesh。　In　Emilio's　eyes
there　was　as　it　were　a　conflict　between　the　saintly　love　of　this　white
soul　and　that　of　the　vehement　and　muscular　Sicilian。

The　day　was　spent　in　long　looks　following　on　deep　meditations。　Each　of
them　gauged　the　depths　of　tender　feeling；　and　found　it　bottomless；　a
conviction　that　brought　fond　words　to　their　lips。　Modesty；　the　goddess
who　in　a　moment　of　forgetfulness　with　Love；　was　the　mother　of
Coquettishness；　need　not　have　put　her　hand　before　her　face　as　she
looked　at　these　lovers。　As　a　crowning　joy；　an　orgy　of　happiness；
Massimilla　pillowed　Emilio's　head　in　her　arms；　and　now　and　then
ventured　to　press　her　lips　to　his；　but　only　as　a　bird　dips　its　beak
into　the　clear　waters　of　a　spring；　looking　round　lest　it　should　be
seen。　Their　fancy　worked　upon　this　kiss；　as　a　composer　develops　a
subject　by　the　endless　resources　of　music；　and　it　produced　in　them
such　tumultuous　and　vibrating　echoes　as　fevered　their　blood。

The　Idea　must　always　be　stronger　than　the　Fact；　otherwise　desire　would
be　less　perfect　than　satisfaction；　and　it　is　in　fact　the　stronger；it
gives　birth　to　wit。　And；　indeed；　they　were　perfectly　happy；　for
enjoyment　must　always　take　something　off　happiness。　Married　in　heaven
alone；　these　two　lovers　admired　each　other　in　their　purest　aspect；
that　of　two　souls　incandescent；　and　united　in　celestial　light；　radiant
to　the　eyes　that　faith　has　touched；　and；　above　all；　filled　with　the
rapture　which　the　brush　of　a　Raphael；　a　Titian；　a　Murillo；　has
depicted；　and　which　those　who　have　ever　known　it；　taste　again　as　they
gaze　at　those　paintings。　Do　not　such　peerless　spirits　scorn　the
coarser　joys　lavished　by　the　Sicilian　singerthe　material　expression
of　that　angelic　union？

These　noble　thoughts　were　in　the　Prince's　mind　as　he　reposed　in
heavenly　calm　on　Massimilla's　cool；　soft；　white　bosom；　under　the
gentle　radiance　of　her　eyes　veiled　by　long；　bright　lashes；　and　he　gave
himself　up　to　this　dream　of　an　ideal　orgy。　At　such　a　moment；
Massimilla　was　as　one　of　the　Virgin　visions　seen　in　dreams；　which
vanish　at　cock…crow；　but　whom　we　recognize　when　we　find　them　again　in
their　realm　of　glory；in　the　works　of　some　great　painters　of　Heaven。

In　the　evening　the　lovers　went　to　the　theatre。　This　is　the　way　of
Italian　life：　love　in　the　morning；　music　in　the　evening；　the　night　for
sleep。　How　far　preferable　is　this　existence　to　that　of　a　country　where
every　one　expends　his　lungs　and　strength　in　politics；　without
contributing　any　more；　single…minded；　to　the　progress　of　affairs　than
a　grain　of　sand　can　make　a　cloud　of　dust。　Liberty；　in　those　strange
lands；　consists　in　the　right　to　squabble　over　public　concerns；　to　take
care　of　oneself；　to　waste　time　in　patriotic　undertakings　each　more
futile　than　the　last；　inasmuch　as　they　all　weaken　that　noble；　holy
self…concern　which　is　the　parent　of　all　great　human　achievement。　At
Venice；　on　the　contrary；　love　and　its　myriad　ties；　the　sweet　business
of　real　happiness；　fills　up　all　the　time。

In　that　country；　love　is　so　much　a　matter　of　course　that　the　Duchess
was　regarded　as　a　wonder；　for；　in　spite　of　her　violent　attachment　to
Emilio；　everybody　was　confident　of　her　immaculate　purity。　And　women
gave　their　sincere　pity　to　the　poor　young　man；　who　was　regarded　as　a
victim　to　the　virtue　of　his　lady…love。　At　the　same　time；　no　one　cared
to　blame　the　Duchess；　for　in　Italy　religion　is　a　power　as　much
respected　as　love。

Evening　after　evening　Massimi