Oime! come poss’ io
Altri trovar, se me trovar non posso.
“Amint.,” At. i. Sc. ii.
(Alas! how can I find another when I cannot find myself?)
The sleep of Glyndon, the night after his last interview with Zanoni,
was unusually profound; and the sun streamed full upon his eyes as he
opened them to the day. He rose refreshed, and with a strange sentiment
of calmness that seemed more the result of resolution than exhaustion.
The incidents and emotions of the past night had settled into distinct
and clear impressions. He thought of them but slightly,--he thought
rather of the future. He was as one of the initiated in the old Egyptian
mysteries who have crossed the gate only to long more ardently for the
penetralia.
He dressed himself, and was relieved to find that Mervale had joined a
party of his countrymen on an excursion to Ischia. He spent the heat of
noon in thoughtful solitude, and gradually the image of Viola returned
to his heart. It was a holy--for it was a HUMAN--image. He had resigned
her; and though he repented not, he was troubled at the thought that
repentance would have come too late.
He started impatiently from his seat, and strode with rapid steps to the
humble abode of the actress.
The distance was considerable, and the air oppressive. Glyndon arrived
at the door breathless and heated. He knocked; no answer came. He lifted
the latch and entered. He ascended the stairs; no sound, no sight of
life met his ear and eye. In the front chamber, on a table, lay the
guitar of the actress, and some manuscript parts in the favourite
operas. He paused, and, summoning courage, tapped at the door which
seemed to lead into the inner apartment. The door was ajar; and, hearing
no sound within, he pushed it open. It was the sleeping-chamber of the
young actress, that holiest ground to a lover; and well did the place
become the presiding deity: none of the tawdry finery of the profession
was visible, on the one hand; none of the slovenly disorder common to
the humbler classes of the South, on the other. All was pure and simple;
even the ornaments were those of an innocent refinement,--a few books,
placed carefully on shelves, a few half-faded flowers in an earthen
vase, which was modelled and painted in the Etruscan fashion. The
sunlight streamed over the snowy draperies of the bed, and a few
articles of clothing on the chair beside it. Viola was not there; but
the nurse!--was she gone also? He made the house resound with the name
of Gionetta, but there was not even an echo to reply. At last, as he
reluctantly quitted the desolate abode, he perceived Gionetta coming
towards him from the street.
The poor old woman uttered an exclamation of joy on seeing him; but,
to their mutual disappointment, neither had any cheerful tidings or
satisfactory explanation to afford the other. Gionetta had been aroused
from her slumber the night before by the noise in the rooms below; but
ere she could muster courage to descend, Viola was gone! She found the
marks of violence on the door without; and all she had since been able
to learn in the neighbourhood was, that a Lazzarone, from his nocturnal
resting-place on the Chiaja, had seen by the moonlight a carriage, which
he recognised as belonging to the Prince di --, pass and repass that
road about the first hour of morning. Glyndon, on gathering from the
confused words and broken sobs of the old nurse the heads of this
account, abruptly left her, and repaired to the palace of Zanoni. There
he was informed that the signor was gone to the banquet of the Prince
di --, and would not return till late. Glyndon stood motionless with
perplexity and dismay; he knew not what to believe, or how to act.
Even Mervale was not at hand to advise him. His conscience smote him
bitterly. He had had the power to save the woman he had loved, and had
foregone that power; but how was it that in this Zanoni himself had
failed? How was it that he was gone to the very banquet of the ravisher?
Could Zanoni be aware of what had passed? If not, should he lose a
moment in apprising him? Though mentally irresolute, no man was more
physically brave. He would repair at once to the palace of the prince
himself; and if Zanoni failed in the trust he had half-appeared to
arrogate, he, the humble foreigner, would demand the captive of fraud
and force, in the very halls and before the assembled guests of the
Prince di --.