“I am astonished my dear Gondimar,” said Viviani one day, addressing
him, “at the description which you gave me of Lady Avondale. I have seen
her since we conversed together about her, more than once; and there is
not, I think, much trace left of that excessive timidity of manner—that
monastic rigidity in her opinions and conduct, of which you made mention
in one of your letters from Castle Delaval.” “I was wrong, utterly wrong,”
said Gondimar, “and you may now rank this model of purity, this paragon
of wives, this pupil of nature, whom I have so often praised to you,
on a level with the rest of her fellow mortals.” “Not on a level—not
on a level,” replied Viviani with gravity; “but falling as I fear, far
beneath it.”
The Count then repeated in a solemn tone the description of Rome which
Lucian has placed in the mouth of Nigrinus applying the enumeration of
vices, temptations and corruptions, attributed to the fairest capital of
the world, to London; and then asked of Gondimar, if it were possible
for one like Calantha to sojourn long amidst such scenes, without in
some measure acquiring the manners, if not falling into the errors to
which the eyes and ears were every hour accustomed? He spoke of her
with regret, as he thus pronounced her on the verge of ruin:—“a prey,”
he said indignantly, “for the spoiler—the weak and willing victim of
vanity.” “The courts of her father are overrun with petitioners and
mendicants,” said Gondimar: “her apartments are filled with flatterers
who feed upon her credulity: she is in love with ruin: it stalks about
in every possible shape, and in every shape, she hails it:—woe is it;
victim of prosperity, luxury and self indulgence.”
“And Avondale,” said Viviani. “Lord Avondale,” replied the Count, “knows
not, thinks not, comprehends not her danger or his own. But the hour
of perdition approaches; the first years of peace and love are past;
folly succeeds; and vice is the after game. These are the three stages
in woman’s life. Calantha is swiftly passing through the second:—the
third will succeed. The days and months once glided away in a dream of
joy, dangerous and illusive—in a dream, I repeat; for all that depends
on the excess and durability of any violent passion, must be called a
dream. Such passion, even though sanctioned by the most sacred ties, if
it engrosses every thought, is not innocent—cannot be lawful. It plants
the seeds of corruption which flourish and gain strength hereafter. This
is the climate in which they will soonest ripen:—this is the garden
and soil, where they take the most rapid, and the deepest root.” “And
think you, that Calantha and Avondale, are already weary of each other?
that the warm and vivid imagination of youthful love is satiated with
excess? or that disappointment has followed upon a nearer view?” “All
passion,” replied Gondimar—falling back and impressively raising his
hand—“all passion is founded on”...“Friend,” said Viviani, “thy prate is
unmercifully tedious,”—“I half believe that thou art thyself in love with
this Calantha; but for an explanation and detail of that master passion,
I know not why I applied to you: Calantha is the object of your pursuit
not mine.” “Of my pursuit! in truth I believe you feel more interest
in her conduct than I do, I am old and weary of these follies; life is
just opening upon you; Calantha is your idol” “No,” replied Viviani,
with a smile of scorn. “It is not that party coloured butterfly, which
ranges ever from flower to flower, spreading its light pinions in the
summer breeze, or basking in the smiles of fortune, for which my life is
consumed, my soul is scorched with living fire, and my mind is impaired
and lost! Oh would to heaven that it were! No arts, no crimes were then
required to win and to enjoy. The pulse of passion beats high within
her, and pleads for the lover who dares to ask. Wild fancy, stimulated
by keen sensibility and restless activity of mind, without employment,
render her easy to be approached, and easy to be influenced and worked
upon. Love is the nature of these favourites of fortune: from earliest
infancy—they feel its power! and their souls enervated, live but upon
its honied vows. Chaste—pure! What are these terms? The solitary recluse
is not chaste, as I have heard; and these, never—never.”
“Yet Lady Margaret you say is unmoved.” “What of Lady Margaret?”
interrupted Viviani, while bitter smiles quivered upon his lip. “Do you
mark the pavement of stone upon which you tread? Do you see the steel
of which this sabre is composed—once heated by the flames, now hard
and insensible?—so cold,—so petrified is the heart, when it has once
given full vent to passion. Marble is that heart which only beats for
my destruction. The time is not yet arrived, but I will dash the cup of
joy from her lips; then drink the dregs myself, and die.” “Mere jealous
threats,” said Gondimar. “The curse of innocent blood is on her,” replied
Viviani, as his livid cheeks and lips resumed a purple dye. “Name her no
more.” “Explain yourself,” cried his astonished friend. “You frequently
allude to scenes of deeper guilt and horror, than I dare even suffer
myself to imagine possible.” “The heart of man is unfathomable,” replied
Viviani;—“that which seems, is not:—that which is, seems not: we should
neither trust our eyes nor ears, in a world like this. But time, which
ripens all things, shall disclose the secrets even of the dead.”
A short time after this conversation with Gondimar, Viviani took leave
of him. He informed him fully of his projects; and Lady Margaret was
also consulted upon the occasion. “What is become of your menaced
vengeance,” she said, smiling upon him, in their last parting interview.
He laughed at the remembrance of his words. “Am I the object now of your
abhorrence,” she said, placing her white hand carelessly upon his head.
“Not absolutely,” replied the young Count, shrinking, however, from
the pressure of that hand. “Touch me not,” he whispered more earnestly,
“it thrills through my soul.—Keep those endearments for Dartford: leave
me in peace.” Immediately after this he left London; and by the first
letter Lady Margaret received from him, she found that he was preparing
to embark.