The way in which she lifted her arm to throw the shuttlecock, the eager
look in her eyes when she raised them to await the coming one, her
delight when the shuttlecock described a circuit in the air, the shake
of her head at any failure, every gesture was in itself a picture of
youthful charm and vigour.
I clearly felt that my fate was sealed, and for the first time in my
life I surrendered myself to the sensations which overpowered and
ensnared me. In the midst of this rapture, I considered how I could
draw nearer to her without startling her, when chance--no auspicious
fate--came to my aid. The shuttlecock, which had been sent up high into
the air, flew over the top of the oak-tree under which I was concealed,
and fell at some distance into the neighbouring fields. She looked
anxiously after it. I do not know whether she then perceived me, but
when I instantly sprang after it and re-appeared on the wall with it, I
noticed that her dark eyes turned towards the place where I had stood
with an astonished and displeased expression. The other girl shrieked,
and ran up to her, whispering something which I did not understand, but
I could see by her gestures that she urged her to immediate flight The
fair creature however did not listen to her, but waited quietly till it
should please the stranger to restore her property. When I delayed,
quite absorbed in my admiration, her face assumed a haughty and defiant
look, and she turned coldly from me. I held up the shuttlecock and with
a hasty gesture entreated her to remain. Then I took from my neck a
velvet ribbon, to which was attached a gold locket in the shape of a
heart containing my sister's hair, fastened them carefully to the
feathered ball, and threw it towards her. Fortunately it fell just at
her feet, and lay on the light gravel of the walk.
She took a few steps with a most stately air, and picked up the
shuttlecock; and noticing the locket she darted a quick and flashing
glance at me which pierced me to the very narrow.
Her companion approached her, and seemed to make some inquiry. She did
not answer, but silently put the shuttlecock and the trinket into her
pocket, and then with inimitable dignity, waved the shuttlecock which
she held in her hand towards me thanking me, as a princess might, for
an homage due to her.
Then she turned and walked slowly towards the house without once
looking back.
I now had no further pretext for remaining perched on the wall, and I
dared not make another attempt to see her again on that day; and then
what would have been the use of it, had I not gained my point for the
present. She had evidently recognized me. My re-appearance sufficiently
expressed my feelings. I had laid my heart at her feet; she had
accepted it, and it was now in her possession. Ought I not to leave her
time to think over all this. I was so agitated that had I met her then,
I should only have been able to stammer out some confused words like a
person in a fever.
That night I slept but little, but in the course of my life I never
again lay awake and counted the hours with so much pleasure.
At day break I rose, entered the picture gallery as soon as it was open
and remained sitting before the St. Cecilia for full two hours. There I
searched my inmost soul as before a clear mirror. I felt that the spark
which had reached my heart was of the true heavenly fire, and not a
transitory illusion of the senses. Those two hours were wonderfully
sweet. It was an anticipation of future bliss and at the same time an
exceeding happiness as if she were sitting close to me, and I felt her
heart beating against mine. The St. Cecilia before me, her eyes calmly
turned heavenwards, could not have had a purer foretaste of the
celestial joys than I had that morning. Again I waited till the time
for the siesta had passed, before I turned my steps towards the villa.
But this time I did not content myself with merely looking through the
bars of the gate. I boldly pulled the bell and was not even startled by
the endless jingle it produced. The little dog rushed, barking
furiously, on the balcony, and out of a small side door, which was next
a larger glass one, issued a little man with enormous grey moustachios
which gave him a ridiculously martial appearance. He approached the
gate with evident astonishment at the unexpected visit. I repeated the
sentence without faltering which I had rehearsed previously: I was a
stranger and intended to publish a book about Italy, and amongst the
rest I wished to introduce a chapter on the country houses of Bologna.
So it was of great importance to me to be allowed to examine this
house. Particularly as it was built in the old style, and was in many
respects remarkable.
The old man did not seem to understand this. "I am very sorry sir," he
replied, "but I cannot admit you. The villa belongs to General
Alessandro T.... under whose command I served. I know your country
well, sir, I marched through Switzerland under Bonaparte. Afterwards
when all was at an end and my wounds became troublesome, my general
transferred me to this quiet post; and when he married for the second
time, he entrusted his daughter to my care, for you well know sir, how
it is when the daughter is handsomer than the young step-mother. So we
live here in great retirement, but the Signorina wants for nothing, for
her papa sends her some handsome present nearly every week; the best
masters come to teach her singing and languages, and my own daughter is
an excellent companion for her. Only she never goes up to town, her
step-mother does not care to have her there, but that does not distress
her, so long as her father is allowed to come and see her, once a
month. Every time he comes, he enjoins me over and over again to keep
his child as the apple of my eye. And on the Sundays when she goes to
hear mass, Nina and I accompany her and never lose sight of her. What
do you expect to see in this old house? I assure you it does not differ
in any respect from other villas, and nothing remarkable grows in the
garden. There is no need to put us in some book; what would my master
say to it. Possibly I might lose my situation notwithstanding my old
age."
I tried to appease him, and succeeded if not with words, at least by
pressing a gold piece into his hand.
"I see," he resumed, "you are an honest young man, and would not be the
ruin of an old soldier. If you persist in your wish, I will lead you
through the house, so that you may satisfy your curiosity. I can do so
the more easily, that the Signorina is just now at her singing lesson,
so she will not know that I have admitted a stranger."
He unlocked the gate with a heavy key and preceeded me towards the
house. The ground floor partly consisted of a large cool hall, from
which the sun was shut out by closed Venetian blinds, and heavy
curtains. True to my assumed character, I begged him to let in some
light so that I might see the different paintings which hung on the
walls. They were all family portraits of little value; only one of them
which hung above the chimney piece engrossed my attention. "This is the
mother of the Signorina," said the old man, "I mean the real mother,
who has been dead these fifteen years. She was a handsome woman; the
people here called her the beautiful saint. Her daughter is very like
her, only she is more cheerful. She resembles a bird, who always merry,
hops up and down in its cage."
"She seems to possess the voice of a bird, as well," I remarked, with
all the indifference I could assume, "if that is hers which we now hear
above us."
"You are right," said the old man. "The director of the Opera in town
comes here twice a week. When her papa (_il babbo_ he called him) pays
her his monthly visit, he always stays many hours, and she sings all
her new songs to him, and then the poor old gentleman feels as happy as
if he were in Paradise. He has not many joys, and without that child he
were better in another world."
"What is the matter with him," I asked, "is he ill?"
"As you take it;" replied the old man, with a shrug of his shoulders;
"I for my part would prefer death to such a life. For those who knew
him when he was still in the army--the giant of Giovanni de Bologna on
the market-place, does not look more high spirited, and chivalrous,
than did my general--And now! it breaks my heart to think of it. The
whole day long he sits in his arm-chair by the window, and cuts out
pictures or plays at dominoes--It seems as if he neither heard nor saw,
but when his wife speaks to him, he looks up timidly and nods
acquiescence to everything she says. Only with regard to the Signorina
he has remained the same, and is not easily to be deceived. Those who
attempted it would soon perceive that the old lion's paws have still
some strength left in them although his claws have been cut."
"But how came he to sink into that melancholy condition?"
"No one knows. Many things have occurred in this house but the outer
world only whispers them. My belief is, that, that woman; I mean to say
her Excellency, the young Signora struck his heart a deadly blow and he
has never recovered from it. So he drags on the burden with which he
has loaded himself, as a resolute old soldier bears hunger and thirst
though he should dwindle to a shadow. Well, well, these are old stories
now, and cannot be altered."
During this conversation we had ascended the stair, and were
approaching the room from which the singing proceeded. The voice had a
crude inflexible sound; it was a high youthful even boyish soprano. It
seemed as if she sang only to give utterance to her thoughts perfectly
careless of the sound.
"What is the Signorina's name?" I asked, when we had reached the top of
the stairs.
"Beatrice. We call her 'Bicetta.' Oh what a priceless heart is hers! My
Nina often says to me, 'Father,' she says, 'if the Signorina is to wait
for a husband worthy of her she will remain unmarried.' See here, Sir;
this is her sitting-room. There are her books. She often sits up half
the night, Nina says, and reads them in many languages. Adjoining is
the little bedroom where the two girls sleep. That picture there, above
her bed, represents my poor master in his General's uniform as he used
to lead us into action. That small figure in the background who
brandishes his musket is me, says the Signorina, and she has lately
added the grey moustachioes to give it more resemblance. But come away
Sir, there is nothing remarkable, in here, the furniture is old. The
General once wanted to furnish it anew, but the child would not hear of
it because everything had been left just as it was when her deceased
mother passed the first summer of her married life in this house. There
on the balcony she used of an evening to sit rocking her child's
cradle, and waiting for the return of her husband when he had gone to
town on business."
I stept out strangely moved and stooped to caress the little dog who
wagged his tail and licked my hand. Every word which the faithful old
man spoke added fuel to the fire which burnt in my breast, and the
voice in the adjoining room fanned the flame with its breath.
Fearing to betray myself, I talked of the way in which the grounds were
laid out, about the inlaid table of mosaic work, which stood in the
middle of the room; of the faded fresco painting on the ceiling. I
could not tear myself away though my guide grew impatient.
Suddenly the singing ceased; the door was thrown open, and she appeared
on the threshold, holding a sheet of music in her hand. She had never
been so near me, yet I did not discern her features more distinctly
than I had done before.
Everything seemed to dance before my eyes I only remarked at the first
glance that she wore my locket round her neck.
The old man started back at her appearance and stammered out some
clumsy excuse, at the same time stealthily pulling at my coat.
"Never mind, Fabio," she said, "you can shew the gentleman all over the
house, and through the grounds, if he cares to see them." Then turning
to her companion, who sat on a low chair with some embroidery in her
hand; "You can go with them, Nina. But stay I will first tell you
something." She whispered some words to her, her eyes always fixed on
me, and then bowed gracefully, to me, who could not utter a word. In so
doing she pressed her right hand as if involuntarily on her locket,
then returned to her singing-master, who had watched this interlude
with curious eyes, and the lesson was quietly resumed whilst we three
ascended the next flight of stairs. The old man's daughter walked
before us and at every turn of the steps, she examined me with a
pensive look but did not speak a word. Only when we had entered the
garden, she said to her father: "Bicetta charged me to pluck two
oranges for the gentleman. She thought he might be thirsty after his
long walk. We will pass by the fountain where they are ripest." I
followed them as if in a trance, and looked up at the house towards the
window from whence we could still hear her voice. The blind was
partially drawn up, so I could perceive her standing in the apartment.
I fancied that she turned, and followed me with her eyes. Nina also
looked up, and then at me. I did not care to hide my feelings from her,
I even wished to make them known to her. But as her father was present
I could only whisper to her, when we reached the gate and she gave me
the oranges: "Express my thanks to the Signorina, and tell her that she
will hear more of me. Give back one of these oranges to her, and tell
her when she eats it...."
But before I could finish the sentence the old man came close to us. He
took leave of me with much less amiability than he had admitted me.
I repeated my promise not to betray him, but another suspicion seemed
to weigh on his mind, for his honest face remained gloomy.
I passed the night in writing a long letter in which I disclosed to her
the state of my feelings and placed my future happiness in her hands.
Even in those moments of absorbing passion the step which I was blindly
taking appeared to me somewhat wild and romantic, but I took up the
orange which lay beside me on the table, pressed it to my lips, and
closing my eyes represented her to my imagination as she stood on the
threshold, gave me that long and loving look, and bowed laying her hand
on the locket.
After having written the letter I slept very quietly, and only awoke
when it was broad daylight. I again waited for the approach of evening
before I took the decisive walk as my own letter carrier.
Fortune smiled on me. I had composed a most impressive speech, with
which I hoped to persuade the old man in case he refused to deliver the
letter. But this time Nina came to open the gate. The intelligent girl
did not seem the least astonished at my reappearance. She took the
letter unhesitatingly, but when I asked her if she thought the
Signorina would send an answer, she assumed a diplomatic tone, and
said: "Who can tell?" I told her that I would return to-morrow at the
same hour, and begged her to await me at the gate, so that I need not
ring the bell and let her father into the secret.
"My father!" she exclaimed laughingly. "We are not afraid of him.
Bicetta need only smile on him and then she can twist him round her
little finger in spite of his savage air--Come somewhat later
to-morrow; we have our drawing lesson just at this hour, and cannot
send away the master for your sake. Will you do so?"
A carriage now rapidly approached the gate. I had just time to whisper
"yes" to the girl before she silently vanished. Then I hastened away
for I did not wish to be seen before that gate.
The carriage drew up before the house and my greybearded friend, the
steward, jumped from his seat beside the coachman and assisted a tall
white haired old gentleman to descend from the carriage. I recognized
him at once to be Beatrice's father from the resemblance of their
features. He walked with unsteady steps, stooping forward, and rubbing
his hands, while a delighted smile overspread his countenance. A
footman took a basket of flowers, and several parcels from the
carriage, and carried them after him. I pressed close to the wall so
that I escaped notice, and at the same time could watch the whole
scene. Before the bell had been rung, the door flew open, and the
slender white figure of Bicetta clung to her father, who threw his arms
round her neck with a touching tenderness, and partly walking partly
carried by him she disappeared into the house with the old gentleman.
The others followed, and with a pang of envy I saw the gate close
behind them. How the remaining hours of that day, and the following
night passed I know not. It seemed to me that a constant twilight
surrounded me, a sweet lethargy overpowered me, and a celestial harmony
filled my soul. Strange to say though I generally felt little assurance
in my intercourse with women notwithstanding my reputation as a good
looking young fellow, this time I confidently awaited the decision of
my fate, no more doubting that I possessed her heart than I doubted
that the sun would rise on the morrow. Only the hours that must pass
before I could hear it from her own lips, appeared endless to me. I
must here mention an adventure which I had next day in one of the
churches. As I roved about the streets hoping by continual movement to
restrain my impatience, almost unconsciously I entered a church.
Neither paintings, nor pillars, nor the people who knelt before the
altars could awaken any interest in me at that moment. My thoughts were
far away, and I even forgot to tread softly though mass was going on,
till the angry mutterings of ah old woman made me aware of my unseemly
behaviour. So I stood still behind a pillar, and listened to the music
of the organ and the tinkling of the bells, and inhaled the smoke of
the incense.
As I absently surveyed the kneeling multitude--I, the son of a rigid
calvinist, of course abstained from that devout practice.--I remarked
on one of the more retired chairs, just in front of me, a pair of dark
blue eyes, underneath a white brow, surrounded by auburn curls. Those
eyes were fastened on me, and never changed their direction during the
whole service.
I confess that at any other time I would have replied to that mute
appeal, but on that morning I was perfectly insensible to any
allurement, and should probably have left the church if I had not
feared to cause a second disturbance. When mass was ended, the handsome
woman hastily rose, drew her lace veil over her head, and walked
straight up to me. Her figure was faultless, perhaps somewhat too
plump, but the agile grace of her movements gave her a very youthful
appearance. In the white ungloved hand which held her veil together,
she carried a small fan with a mother of pearl handle. When she was
close to me, she partly opened this fan, and moved it carelessly,
whilst her eyes were fixed on mine with a quiet but significant gaze.
When I appeared not to understand her, she tossed up her head, smiled
haughtily, so that her white even teeth glittered, and rustled past me.
A moment later I had forgotten this interlude; yet all my joy had
suddenly vanished. As the evening approached, I felt more and more
uneasy, and when the appointed hour struck I dragged myself towards the
villa like a criminal who is to appear before his judge. I started back
when instead of Nina, whom I had expected I found her father waiting
for me at the gate. But the old man though he looked very morose,
nodded when I appeared and beckoned to me to approach. "You have
written to the Signorina," he said, with a shake of his head, "why have
you done so? If I had thought you would do such a thing, you should
never with my consent have entered the house. Oh, my poor dear
Master--after all my promises to him--and who knows what will be the
end of it. I dare not think of it all."
"Dear old friend," I replied, "nothing shall be done behind your back.
Had you been at home yesterday, I would certainly have given you the
letter, and as for that, you could have read it and convinced yourself
that my intentions are most honourable. But tell me, for heaven's
sake?" ....
"Come now," he interrupted, "do not let us waste our time. You are an
honourable young man, and besides, how can such a poor old fool as I
am, prevent these things, even if I tried it. Believe me, sir, she is
the mistress, in spite of her youth. When she says: 'I will!' no one
can resist her. Now, she will see you; she wishes to speak to you
herself."
All my senses reeled at these words; I had hardly dared to hope for a
letter and now this!--
The old man himself seemed moved when I impetuously pressed his hand.
He led me towards the house, and as on the previous occasion we entered
by the side-door into the large hall on the groundfloor. This time all
the curtains and jalousies were opened, to let in the red glow of the
setting sun; two chairs stood opposite the chimney, and from one of
them the figure of the girl, so dear to me, arose and took a few steps
towards me. She held a book in her hand and between its leaves I saw my
letter. Her abundant hair was tied up this time and a black ribbon was
twined through it. On her neck I again noticed my locket.
"Fabio," she said, "open the door towards the garden, and wait on the
terrace in case I should have some orders for you."
The old man bowed respectfully, and obeyed. In the meantime we stood
motionless beside each other, and my heart beat so violently that I
could not utter a word. Her eyes were fixed on mine with a grave
expression partly of inquiry, and partly of wonder.
A last she regained her full composure, and appeared to understand what
a moment before had been unintelligible to her. She stretched out her
hand which I eagerly seized, but dared not press to my lips.
"Come and sit down beside me," she said, "I have much to tell you. Do
you see this portrait before us? It is my mother's; she died long ago.
When I got your letter I sat down before her and asked her what answer
I ought to give you. It seemed to me that she assented to nothing but
the truth. And the truth is, that from the moment I saw you in the
carriage, all my thoughts went with you, and there they will remain
till I die." I cannot express what I felt at these simple words. I fell
on my knees before her, seized both her hands and covered them with
kisses and tears.
"Why do you weep," she asked and tried to raise me. "Are you not happy?
I am full of joyfulness. I have suffered much, but now all is blotted
out. Now I only know that we are firmly united and I can never again be
unhappy."
She rose, I sprang up. Intoxicated with joy, I tried to press her to my
heart, but she gently stepped back.
"No, Amadeus," she said, "that must not be. You now know that I am
yours, and will never be taken from you by any other man; but let us be
calm. I have considered the matter during the long night that has
passed. You cannot come here any more. I have promised it to poor
Fabio. This is the first, and the last time that we meet here. If you
repeated your visit I should soon have no other will but yours, and I
will never dishonour my father's name. Listen, you must go to him, you
will find no difficulty in introducing yourself in his house, so many
young men," she added with a sigh, "even perfect strangers are received
there. When he knows you more intimately, and has given you his
confidence, then demand my hand. You may also tell him that we know
each other and that I will never marry any other than you: All the rest
leave to me, and above all promise not to speak of this to my
stepmother; she does not love me, does not wish me to be happy. Oh,
Amadeus, is it possible that you can love me as much as I love you? Did
you not feel the first time we met, as if a flash of lightning had
fallen from heaven, as if the earth trembled and the trees and bushes
were on fire! I do not know how it occurred to me to throw a branch of
blossoms on the stranger who slept underneath his umbrella. I could not
even see your face; it was a childish trick, and I repented if it a
moment later; yet an irresistible impulse made me look once more over
the wall, and then when I saw you standing in the carriage and waving
the branch of pomegranate blossoms towards me, I was seized as with a
fever and from that moment you have always been before me whatever I
do."