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SCHILLER.
The following is what I read in an Italian manuscript:
I
About the middle of the sixteenth century there dwelt in Ferrara--(it
was then flourishing under the sceptre of its magnificent dukes, the
patrons of the arts and of poetry)--there dwelt two young men, named
Fabio and Muzio. Of the same age and nearly related, they were almost
never separated; a sincere friendship had united them since their early
childhood, and a similarity of fate had strengthened this bond. Both
belonged to ancient families; both were wealthy, independent, and
without family; the tastes and inclinations of both were similar. Muzio
occupied himself with music, Fabio with painting. All Ferrara was proud
of them as the finest ornaments of the Court, of society, and of the
city. But in personal appearance they did not resemble each other,
although both were distinguished for their stately, youthful beauty.
Fabio was the taller of the two, white of complexion, with ruddy-gold
hair, and had blue eyes. Muzio, on the contrary, had a swarthy face,
black hair, and in his dark-brown eyes there was not that merry gleam,
on his lips not that cordial smile, which Fabio had; his thick eyebrows
over-hung his narrow eyelids, while Fabio's golden brows rose in slender
arches on his pure, smooth forehead. Muzio was less animated in
conversation also; nevertheless both friends were equally favoured by
the ladies; for not in vain were they models of knightly courtesy and
lavishness.
At one and the same time with them there dwelt in Ferrara a maiden named
Valeria. She was considered one of the greatest beauties in the city,
although she was to be seen only very rarely, as she led a retired life
and left her house only to go to church;--and on great festivals for a
walk. She lived with her mother, a nobly-born but not wealthy widow, who
had no other children. Valeria inspired in every one whom she met a
feeling of involuntary amazement and of equally involuntary tender
respect: so modest was her mien, so little aware was she, to all
appearance, of the full force of her charms. Some persons, it is true,
thought her rather pale; the glance of her eyes, which were almost
always lowered, expressed a certain shyness and even timidity; her lips
smiled rarely, and then but slightly; hardly ever did any one hear her
voice. But a rumour was in circulation to the effect that it was very
beautiful, and that, locking herself in her chamber, early in the
morning, while everything in the city was still sleeping, she loved to
warble ancient ballads to the strains of a lute, upon which she herself
played. Despite the pallor of her face, Valeria was in blooming health;
and even the old people, as they looked on her, could not refrain from
thinking:--"Oh, how happy will be that young man for whom this bud still
folded in its petals, still untouched and virgin, shall at last unfold
itself!"