The Bravo of Venice Part 8

Flodoardo.--That is sufficient. To-morrow, or the day after at least, will I perform my promise.

Andreas.--And you make that promise so resolutely? Are you aware, young man, how dangerous a task it is to surprise these miscreants?

They are never to be found when sought for, and always present when least expected; they are at once everywhere and nowhere. There exists not a nook in Venice which our spies are not acquainted with, or have left unexamined, and yet has our police endeavoured in vain to discover the place of their concealment.

Flodoardo.--I know all this, and to know it rejoices me, since it affords me an opportunity of convincing the Doge of Venice, that my actions are not those of a common adventurer.

Andreas.--Perform your promise, and then let me hear of you. For the present our discourse shall end here, for no unpleasant thoughts must disturb the joy to which this day is dedicated. Rosabella, would you not like to join the dancers? Count, I confide her to your care.

Flodoardo.--I could not be entrusted with a more precious charge.

Rosabella, during this conversation, had been leaning against the back of her uncle's chair. She repeated to herself Lomellino's a.s.sertion, "that to see Flodoardo, and not to like him, was as difficult as to look at Paradise and not wish to enter;" and while she gazed on the youth, she allowed that Lomellino had not exaggerated. When her uncle desired Flodoardo to conduct her to the dancers, a soft blush overspread her cheek, and she doubted whether she should accept or decline the hand which was immediately offered.

And to tell you my real opinion, my fair ladies, I suspect that very few of you would have been more collected than Rosabella, had you found yourselves similarly situated. In truth, such a form as Flodoardo's; a countenance whose physiognomy seemed a pa.s.sport at once to the hearts of all who examined it; features so exquisitely fashioned that the artist who wished to execute a model of manly beauty, had he imitated them, would have had nothing to supply or improve; features, every one of which spoke so clearly, "The bosom of this youth contains the heart of a hero." Ah, ladies, my dear ladies, a man like this might well make some little confusion in the head and heart of a poor young girl, tender and unsuspicious!

Flodoardo took Rosabella's hand, and led her into the ball-room.

Here all was mirth and splendour, the roofs re-echoed with the full swell of harmony, and the floor trembled beneath the mult.i.tude of dancers, who formed a thousand beautiful groups by the blaze of innumerable l.u.s.tres. Yes, Flodoardo and Rosabella pa.s.sed on in silence till they reached the extreme end of the great saloon. Here they stopped, and remained before an open window. Some minutes pa.s.sed, and still they spoke not. Sometimes they gazed on each other, sometimes on the dancers, sometimes on the moon; and then again they forgot each other, the dancers, and the moon, and were totally absorbed in themselves.

"Lady," said Flodoardo, at length, "can there be a greater misfortune?"

"A misfortune?" said Rosabella, starting as if suddenly awaking from a dream; "what misfortune, signor? Who is unfortunate?"

"He who is doomed to behold the joys of Elysium and never to possess them. He who dies of thirst and sees a cup stand full before him, but which he knows is destined for the lips of another."

"And are you, my lord, this outcast from Elysium? Are you the thirsty one who stands near the cup which is filled for another? Is it thus that you wish me to understand your speech?"

"You understand it as I meant: and now tell me, lovely Rosabella, am I not indeed unfortunate?"

"And where, then, is the Elysium which you must never possess?"

"Where Rosabella is, there is indeed Elysium. You are not offended, signora?" said Flodoardo, and took her hand with an air of respectful tenderness. "Has this openness displeased you?"

"You are a native of Florence, Count Flodoardo. In Venice we dislike this kind of compliment: at least I dislike them, and wish to hear them from no one less than from you."

"By my life, signora, I spoke but as I thought! my words concealed no flattery."

"See, the Doge enters the saloon with Manfrone and Lomellino: he will seek us among the dancers. Come, let us join them."

Flodoardo followed her in silence. The dance began. Heavens! how lovely looked Rosabella, as she glided along to the sweet sounds of music, conducted by Flodoardo. How handsome looked Flodoardo, as, lighter than air, he flew down the dance, while his brilliant eyes saw no object but Rosabella.

He was still without his mask, and bareheaded: but every eye glanced away from the helmets and barettes, waving with plumes, and sparkling with jewels, to gaze on Flodoardo's raven locks, as they floated on the air in wild luxuriance. A murmur of admiration rose from every corner of the saloon, but it rose unmarked by those who were the objects of it. Neither Rosabella nor Flodoardo at that moment formed a wish to be applauded, except by each other.

CHAPTER II: THE FLORENTINE STRANGER

Two evenings had elapsed since the Doge's entertainment. On the second, Parozzi sat in his own apartment, with Memmo and Falieri.

Dimly burnt the lights; lowering and tempestuous were the skies without; gloomy and fearful were the souls of the libertines within.

Parozzi (after a long silence).--What, are you both dreaming? Ho, there, Memmo, Falieri, fill your goblets.

Memmo (with indifference).--Well, to please you--. But I care not for wine to-night.

Falieri.--Nor I. Methinks it tastes like vinegar: yet the wine itself is good: 'tis our ill temper spoils it.

Parozzi.--Confound the rascals.

Memmo.--What, the banditti?

Parozzi.--Not a trace of them can be found. It is enough to kill one with vexation.

Falieri.--And in the meanwhile the time runs out, our projects will get wind, and then we shall sit quietly in the State prisons of Venice, objects of derision to the populace and ourselves. I could tear my flesh for anger. (A universal silence.)

Parozzi (striking his hand against the table pa.s.sionately).-- Flodoardo, Flodoardo.

Falieri.--In a couple of hours I must attend the Cardinal Gonzaga, and what intelligence shall I have to give him?

Memmo.--Come, come, Contarino cannot have been absent so long without cause; I warrant you he will bring some news with him when he arrives.

Falieri.--Pshaw, pshaw! My life on't he lies at this moment at Olympia's feet, and forgets us, the Republic, the banditti, and himself.

Parozzi.--And so neither of you know anything of this Flodoardo?

Memmo.--No more than of what happened on Rosabella's birthday.

Falieri.--Well, then, I know one thing more about him; Parozzi is jealous of him.

Parozzi.--I? Ridiculous, Rosabella may bestow her hand on the German Emperor, or a Venetian gondolier, without its giving me the least anxiety.

Falieri.--Ha! ha! ha!

Memmo.--Well, one thing at least even envy must confess; Flodoardo is the handsomest man in Venice. I doubt whether there's a woman in the city who can resist him.

Parozzi.--And I should doubt it too, if women had as little sense as you have, and looked only at the sh.e.l.l without minding the kernel -

Memmo.--Which unluckily is exactly the thing which women always do -

Falieri.--The old Lomellino seems to be extremely intimate with this Flodoardo. They say he was well acquainted with his father.

Memmo.--It was he who presented him to the Doge.

Parozzi.--Hark!--Surely some one knocked at the palace door?

Memmo.--It can be none but Contarino. Now, then, we shall hear whether he has discovered the banditti.

Falieri (starting from his chair).--I'll swear to that footstep, it's Contarino.

The doors were thrown open. Contarino entered hastily, enveloped in his cloak.