autumn. We had an engagement at La Fenice, and we took rooms on the
Grand Canal, at the best hotel in the city. We passed the first hours
after our arrival unpacking our trunks and putting our stage wardrobe in
order. Not until that was done did we dine. It was quite late. At
dessert they brought me several packages of letters, one of which caught
my eye at once. After looking through it, I opened the window on the
balcony, called to Checca to go out with me, and told her to look across
the canal. Among the numerous palaces which cast their shadows on the
placid water, there was one, directly opposite our apartments, easily
distinguishable by its size and its antiquity. It had been magnificently
restored. Everything about it had a festive air. Through the windows we
could see, by the light of countless candles, superb bouquets and
gorgeous curtains, and we could hear the melodious strains of a large
orchestra. Gondolas, brilliantly illuminated, glided silently along the
Grand Canal and deposited at the palace door women bedecked with flowers
and gleaming jewels, and their escorts in ceremonious costume.
"Do you know," I asked Checca, "what palace this is opposite us, and the
occasion of this party?"
"No, and I am not at all curious."
"It is the Aldini Palace, where the marriage of Alezia Aldini and Count
Nasi is being celebrated."
"Bah!" she said, with a half-surprised, half-indifferent air.
I showed her the packet I had received. It was from Nasi. It contained
two invitations and two letters, one from Nasi to her, one from Alezia
to me, both charming.
"You see," I continued, when Checca had finished hers, "that we have no
reason to complain of their treatment of us. These letters followed us
to Florence and to Milan, and our constant journeyings are to blame for
their not having reached us until now. And the letters are as kind and
agreeable as it is possible for them to be. It is easy to see that they
were dictated by noble hearts. Great nobles as they are, they are not
afraid to speak to us, one of his friendship, the other of her
gratitude."
"Yes, but meanwhile they don't invite us to their wedding."
"In the first place, they don't know that we are here; and in the second
place, my dear sister, the rich people and the nobles do not invite
singers to their parties, except to have them sing; and those who don't
choose to sing to entertain their hosts are not invited at all. That is
the justice of society; and kind-hearted and sensible as our young
friends are, as they live in that society, they are obliged to submit to
its laws."
"Faith! so much the worse for them, my dear Lelio! Let them do as they
please. They leave us to amuse ourselves without them, let us leave them
to be bored to death without us. Let us snap our fingers at the pride of
the great, laugh at their follies, spend money merrily when we have it,
and accept poverty cheerfully if it comes; above all things, let us
cling to our liberty, let us enjoy life while we can, and long live
Bohemia!"
Here Lelio's story came to an end. When he had ceased to speak, none of
us broke the melancholy silence. Our friend seemed even more depressed
than the rest of us. Suddenly he raised his head, which he had rested on
his hand, and said:
"On the last evening that I referred to, there were many French people
among the guests; and as they were infatuated with German music, they
made the orchestra play Weber's and Beethoven's waltzes all the evening.
That is why those waltzes are so dear to me; they always recall a period
of my life which I shall never cease to regret, despite the suffering
with which it was filled. You must admit, my friends, that destiny has
been very cruel to me, in placing in my path two passions so ardent, so
sincere, so self-sacrificing, and not permitting me to enjoy either of
them. Alas! my time has passed now, and I shall never again know aught
of those noble passions of which one must have drained at least one to
the dregs in order to be able to say that he has known life."
"Do not complain," said Beppa, aroused by her companion's melancholy;
"you have an irreproachable life behind you, fair renown and kind
friends around you, and independence in the future and forever; and I
tell you that love will not fail you when you seek it. So fill your
glass once more with this generous wine, drink gayly with us, and lead
us as we sing the sacred refrain in chorus."
Lelio hesitated a moment, filled his glass, and heaved a deep sigh; then
a gleam of youth and merriment flashed from his fine black eyes, moist
with tears, and he sang in a resounding voice, to which we answered in
chorus:
"Long live Bohemia!"
[Footnote 6: The glance of the evil eye. This superstition is common all
over Italy. At Naples they wear coral talismans as a safeguard.]
[Footnote 7: In God's name, don't row! we are not on the Adriatic.]