The evening was serene. Fleecy clouds floated on the horizon--the
moon’s full orb, in cloudless majesty, hung high in air, and was
reflected in silver brilliancy by every wave of the Adriatic, as,
gently agitated by the evening breeze, they dashed against innumerable
gondolas which crowded the Laguna.
Exquisite harmony, borne on the pinions of the tranquil air, floated
in varying murmurs; it sometimes died away, and then again swelling
louder, in melodious undulations, softened to pleasure every listening
ear.
Every eye which gazed on the fairy scene beamed with pleasure;
unrepressed gaiety filled every heart but Julia’s, as, with a vacant
stare, unmoved by feelings of pleasure, unagitated by the gaiety
which filled every other soul, she contemplated the varied scene.
A magnificent gondola carried the Marchesa di Strobazzo; and the
innumerable flambeaux which blazed around her rivalled the meridian sun.
It was the pensive, melancholy Julia, who, immersed in thought, sat
unconscious of every external object, whom the fierce glance of Matilda
measured with a haughty expression of surprise and revenge. The dark
fire which flashed from her eye, more than told the feelings of her
soul, as she fixed it on her rival; and had it possessed the power of
the basilisk’s, Julia would have expired on the spot.
It was the ethereal form of the now forgotten Julia which first
caught Verezzi’s eye. For an instant he gazed with surprise upon her
symmetrical figure, and was about to point her out to Matilda, when, in
the downcast countenance of the enchanting female, he recognised his
long-lost Julia.
To paint the feelings of Verezzi--as Julia raised her head from
the attitude in which it was fixed, and disclosed to his view that
countenance which he had formerly gazed on in ecstasy, the index of
that soul to which he had sworn everlasting fidelity--is impossible.
The Lethean torpor, as it were, which before had benumbed him; the
charm, which had united him to Matilda, was dissolved.
All the air-built visions of delight, which had but a moment before
floated in gay variety in his enraptured imagination, faded away, and,
in place of these, regret, horror, and despairing repentance, reared
their heads amid the roses of momentary voluptuousness.
He still gazed entranced, but Julia’s gondola, indistinct from
distance, mocked his straining eyeball.
For a time neither spoke: the gondola rapidly passed onwards, but,
immersed in thought, Matilda and Verezzi heeded not its rapidity.
They had arrived at St. Mark’s Place, and the gondolier’s voice, as he
announced it, was the first interruption of the silence.
They started.--Verezzi now, for the first time, aroused from his
reverie of horror, saw that the scene before him was real; and that the
oaths of fidelity which he had so often and so fervently sworn to Julia
were broken.
The extreme of horror seized his brain--a frigorific torpidity of
despair chilled every sense, and his eyes, fixedly, gazed on vacancy.
“Oh! return--instantly return!” impatiently replied Matilda to the
question of the gondolier.
The gondolier, surprised, obeyed her, and they returned.
The spacious canal was crowded with gondolas; merriment and splendour
reigned around; enchanting harmony stole over the scene; but, listless
of the music, heeding not the splendour, Matilda sat lost in a maze of
thought.
Fiercest vengeance revelled through her bosom, and, in her own mind,
she resolved a horrible purpose.
Meanwhile, the hour was late, the moon had gained the zenith, and
poured her beams vertically on the unruffled Adriatic, when the gondola
stopped before Matilda’s mansion.
A sumptuous supper had been prepared for their return. Silently Matilda
entered--silently Verezzi followed.
Without speaking, Matilda seated herself at the supper-table; Verezzi,
with an air of listlessness, threw himself into a chair beside her.
For a time neither spoke.
“You are not well to-night,” at last stammered out Verezzi: “what has
disturbed you?”
“Disturbed me!” repeated Matilda: “why do you suppose that any thing
has disturbed me?”
A more violent paroxysm of horror seemed now to seize Verezzi’s brain.
He pressed his hand to his burning forehead--the agony of his mind
was too great to be concealed--Julia’s form, as he had last seen her,
floated in his fancy, and, overpowered by the resistlessly horrible
ideas which pressed upon them, his senses failed him: he faintly
uttered Julia’s name--he sank forward, and his throbbing temples
reclined on the table.
“Arise! awake! prostrate, perjured Verezzi, awake!” exclaimed the
infuriate Matilda, in a tone of gloomy horror.
Verezzi started up, and gazed with surprise upon the countenance of
Matilda, which, convulsed by passion, flashed desperation and revenge.
“’Tis plain,” said Matilda, gloomily, “’tis plain, he loves me not.”
A confusion of contending emotions battled in Verezzi’s bosom: his
marriage vow--his faith plighted to Matilda--convulsed his soul with
indescribable agony.
Still did she possess a great empire over his soul--still was her frown
terrible--and still did the hapless Verezzi tremble at the tones of
her voice, as, in a frenzy of desperate passion, she bade him quit her
for ever: “And,” added she, “go, disclose the retreat of the outcast
Matilda to her enemies; deliver me to the inquisition, that a union
with her you detest may fetter you no longer.”
Exhausted by breathless agitation, Matilda ceased: the passions of her
soul flashed from her eyes; ten thousand conflicting emotions battled
in Verezzi’s bosom: he knew scarce what to do; but, yielding to the
impulse of the moment, he cast himself at Matilda’s feet, and groaned
deeply.
At last the words, “I am ever yours, I ever shall be yours,” escaped
his lips.
For a time Matilda stood immovable. At last she looked on Verezzi; she
gazed downwards upon his majestic and youthful figure, she looked upon
his soul-illumined countenance, and tenfold love assailed her softened
soul. She raised him--in an oblivious delirium of sudden fondness
she clasped him to her bosom, and, in wild and hurried expressions,
asserted her right to his love.
Her breast palpitated with fiercest emotions; she pressed her burning
lips to his; most fervent, most voluptuous sensations of ecstasy
revelled through her bosom.
Verezzi caught the infection; in an instant of oblivion, every oath
of fidelity which he had sworn to another, like a baseless cloud,
dissolved away; a Lethean torpor crept over his senses; he forgot
Julia, or remembered her only as an uncertain vision, which floated
before his fancy more as an ideal being of another world, whom he might
hereafter adore there, than as an enchanting and congenial female, to
whom his oaths of eternal fidelity had been given.
Overcome by unutterable transports of returning bliss, she started
from his embrace--she seized his hand--her face was overspread with a
heightened colour as she pressed it to her lips.
“And are you then mine--mine for ever?” rapturously exclaimed Matilda.
“Oh! I am thine--thine to all eternity,” returned the infatuated
Verezzi: “no earthly power shall sever us; joined by congeniality of
soul, united by a bond to which God himself bore witness.”
He again clasped her to his bosom--again, as an earnest of fidelity,
imprinted a fervent kiss on her glowing cheek; and, overcome by
the violent and resistless emotions of the moment, swore, that nor
heaven nor hell should cancel the union which he here solemnly and
unequivocally renewed.
Verezzi filled an overflowing goblet.
“Do you love me?” inquired Matilda.
“May the lightning of heaven consume me, if I adore thee not to
distraction! may I be plunged in endless torments, if my love for thee,
celestial Matilda, endures not for ever!”
Matilda’s eyes flashed fiercest triumph; the exultingly delightful
feelings of her soul were too much for utterance--she spoke not, but
gazed fixedly on Verezzi’s countenance.