THE IMPROVISATRICE
All the guests of the cardinal were assembled in the gigantic hall, andall eyes were anxiously bent upon the mysterious curtain, which stillremained closed.
Now resounded a little bell, and Cardinal Bernis smilingly turned toNatalie, who sat by his side.
"I think this mystery is about to be unveiled," said he.
"And I am quite anxious about it," said the young maiden, gracefullylaying her hand upon her heart. "My heart beats as violently as if amystery were about to be unveiled in my own breast. Do you believe inpresentiments, Sir Cardinal?"
Bernis had not time to answer her. Just at that moment the curtain drewup, a general "Ah!" of admiration was heard, and, suddenly carriedaway by their feelings, the whole audience broke into extravagantand long-enduring applause, crying and shouting, "_Evviva Corilla!l'improvisatrice Corilla!_"
And in fact it was an admirable picture which was there presented to theaudience. Those flower-strewed steps led up to an altar, upon the centreof which, between wreaths of flowers, shot up two dark-red flames.Against that altar leaned, exalted and august as a Grecian priestess,the improvisatrice Corilla. Her eyes raised to the heavens, her featureslighted up with a rosy glow by the red flames, her half-raised rightarm resting upon an urn, while her left arm was stretched upward towardheaven, she thus resembled an inspired priestess, just receiving amessage from on high, listening with ecstasy, with suppressed breath andparted lips, to the voice of the Deity, and forgetting the world ina blissful intoxication, she seemed about to take her flight to theempyrean!
And while Corilla, as if absorbed in spiritual contemplation, continuedto stand immovable there, began the low notes of a harp, which,gradually becoming fuller and stronger, at length resounded inpowerfully rushing and exultant tones. From Corilla all eyes were nowturned upon Carlo, who, in the light dress of a Greek youth, his harpupon his arm, was leaning against a pomegranate tree placed in thebackground of the stage, and with his pale, serious face, with hisnoble, manly features, formed a beautiful contrast to the inspired andlove-beaming priestess Corilla.
Natalie, feeling something like a slight puncture in her heart,involuntarily carried her hand to her bosom. It was a strange, awonderful feeling, which stirred within her, partly partaking of joy atseeing and hearing her friend Carlo, as people were murmuring praises ofhis beauty, and of his great skill upon the harp, and partly a feelingof painful emotion. She knew not why, but as her glance met his, itquickly turned toward Corilla, and quite sadly she said to herself: "Sheis much handsomer than I!"
Carlo now opened his lips, and to a beautifully simple melody he sweetlysang an introductory song, as it were to prepare the audience for thecoming solemnity. Having finished this, two lovely _amourettes_ cameforward, with silver vases in their hands, and hastened down the stepsto the audience, politely requesting them to furnish themes for thegreat improvisatrice Corilla.
Then, returning to the altar, they threw into the urn the small scrapsof paper on which the guests has proposed themes. The harp againresounded, and with a solemn earnestness, her face and glance stilldirected upward, Corilla drew one of the little strips of paper from theurn. Accident, or perhaps her own dexterity, had favored her.
"Sappho's lament before throwing herself from the rocks"--that was thetheme proposed.
Corilla's face immediately took an expression of sadness; her eyesflashed with an unnatural fire; her previously raised arm fell powerlessby her side; her head, like a broken rose, sank upon her breast; herother hand convulsively grasped the urn, and in this position she infact resembled an abandoned mourner, weeping over the ashes of her losthappiness. She was now the repudiated and forsaken one who, ready toresign her life, was brooding upon thoughts of death. And while her facetook this expression, and she, staring upon the earth before her, seemedto be meditating upon irremediable fate, thought Corilla: "This is acharming theme which the good Cardinal Albani has thrown into the urnfor me. I found it directly by the small pin which, according to hispromise, he inserted in the paper. This cardinal is an agreeable imp,and I must give him a kiss for his complaisance. Besides, the Tassorhyme will here be the most appropriate!"
Again she directed her gaze, with a gloomy expression, toward theheavens, and with a violently heaving bosom, with feverishly flittingbreath, she began the lament of Sappho. Now like rattling thunder,now like the gentle breathings of the flute, rolled this sweet andpicturesque language of Italy from her lips--like music sounded thosefull, artistic rhymes, of which but few of the hearers had the leastsuspicion that they came from Tasso. To improvise in the Italianlanguage is an easy and a grateful task! What wonder, then, that Corillaacquitted herself so charmingly? The audience paid no attention to thethoughts expressed; they asked not after the quintessence; they weresatisfied with the agreeable sound, without inquiring into the sense ofher words; it was their melody which was admired. They listened notfor the thought, but only for the rhyme, and with ecstatic smiles andadmiring glances they nodded to each other when, thanks to the studieswhich Corilla had made in Tasso, Marino, and Ariosto, she seemed ofherself to find rhymes for the most difficult words.
An immense storm of applause resounded when she ended; and as ifawakening from an intoxicating ecstasy, Corilla glanced around with anexpression of astonishment on her features; she looked around as if sheknew not whence she came, and in what strange surroundings she now foundherself.
After a short pause, which Carlo filled out with his harp, she again puther hand into the urn and drew out a new theme; again the inspirationseemed to pass over her, and the holy Whitsuntide of her muse to berenewed. Constantly more and more stormily resounded the plaudits of herhearers; it was like a continued thunder of enthusiasm, a real salvoof joy. It animated Corilla to new improvisations; she again andagain recurred to the urn, drawing forth new themes, and seemed to beabsolutely inexhaustible.
"It is now enough," whispered Carlo, just as she had drawn forth a newtheme. "You have but a quarter of an hour left!"
"Only this theme yet," she begged in a low tone. "It is a veryhappy one, it will win for me the hearts of all these cardinals andgentlemen!"
"Yet a quarter of an hour, and then your time is up," said he. "Remembermy oath, I shall keep my word!"
An inexplicable anxiety, a tormenting uneasiness, came over him; he hadhardly strength and recollection sufficient to enable him to accompanyCorilla, who was discussing in verse the question, "Which Rome was thehappiest, ancient or modern?"
Carlo's eyes, fixed and motionless, rested upon Natalie; it fearfullyalarmed him not to be near her, not to be able to watch every one ofher steps, every one of her motions; it seemed to him as if he saw thatsavage man with his naked dagger lurking near her! And she, was she notpale as a lily; seemed she not, in that white robe, to be already thebride of death?
"I must hasten to her, I must protect her or die!" thought he, and, witha threatening glance at Corilla, he showed her the hour. Corilla read inthe expression of his face that he was in earnest with his threat, andas if her inspiration lent wings to her words, she spoke on as in astorm of inward agitation, and with words of fire she decided thatmodern Rome was the happiest, as she had the holy father of Christendom,her pope, and his cardinals!
The applause, the general delight, was now unbounded; cardinals were tobe seen weeping with enthusiasm and joy; others with heartfelt emotionwere showering words of blessing upon the improvisatrice, and allpressed toward the tribune in order to accompany her down the steps andin among the company.
A sudden thought of rescue had like a flash of lightning arisen inCarlo's soul.
"Natalie must first be completely separated from this society, and thenI will seek this man and render him incapable of mischief!" thought he.
By main strength he made himself a path through the crowd surroundingCorilla, and now stood near Cardinal Bernis, at whose side stillremained Natalie and Count Paulo.
"You have struck the lyre like an Apollo," exclaimed the cardinal to
thesinger.
Carlo bowed with a smile, and hastily said: "And are you ignorant,your eminence, that a much greater poetess and improvisatrice than ourCorilla is in your society?"
The cardinal smilingly threatened him with his finger. "Poor Carlo, hasit already come to this?" said he. "You are jealous of our delight inCorilla, and would lessen her fame, that you may make her more yourown!"
"I speak the truth," said Carlo; "a poetess is among us whom themuses themselves have consecrated, an improvisatrice, not of humancomposition, but by the grace of God, to whom the angels whisper therhymes, and the muses the ideas!"
"And who, then, is this divinely-gifted artist, this consecrateddaughter of the muses?" wonderingly asked the cardinal.
Carlo indicated Natalie, and bowed to the ground before her.
"Princess Tartaroff?" asked the cardinal, with astonishment.
"That she is a princess, I know not," said Carlo, "but I am quitecertain she is a poetess!"
What was it that at this moment stirred the soul of the young maiden?She now felt a pride, a blessed joy, and yet she had previously felt sosad at Corilla's triumph! It seemed as if enthusiasm raised its wings inher, as if the word, the right word, pressed to her lips, as if she mustutter in song her rejoicings and lamentings for her simultaneouslyfelt pleasures and pains! A pure and genuine child of Nature, she feltherself the natural impulse to pour out in words, tones, and even intears, what agitated her soul, and to which she was unable to give aname.
Cardinal Bernis had first turned imploringly to Count Paulo, praying forhis permission to invite the young princess to surprise and delightthe company with some of her improvisations. Others, overhearing this,mingled in the conversation, and added their requests to those ofthe cardinal; and, the feeling becoming general, the requests foran improvisation became universal and pressing; people, momentarilyforgetting the great and celebrated improvisatrice Corilla, with afeverish curiosity turned to the new and unknown star. Corilla stoodalmost alone--only Cardinal Albani remaining by her side; but his tenderwords were not competent to appease the violent storm of jealousy thatraged in her soul.
The solicitations of the curious Romans became constantly more urgent,and Count Paulo, unable longer to resist them, finally consented toleave the decision to his ward, the young princess herself.
And Natalie? She was so real and ingenuous a child of Nature that shefelt no timidity in the presence of this crowd; she was so full offaith and confidence, so full of trust and human love. She thought: "Whyshould I not give a little pleasure to these good people who approach mewith such warm sympathies? And why should I tremble before them? Did notPaulo tell me that I should feel as if I were in my garden, and it wasonly my trees and flowers that were looking at me with human faces?Well, then, I will so think and feel, and speak only to my dear treesand flowers!"
Beckoning Carlo with a charming smile, guided by his hand, she hastilyascended the steps. And as they saw her there upon the stage, thisdelicate, lovely maiden--as they looked upon her spiritual maidenbeauty, with the childlike expression of her noble features, with eyesthat beamed with pleasure and inspiration--there arose such a storm ofapplause that Natalie slightly trembled, and with a sweet smile she saidto Carlo: "The people here are much more boisterous than the zephyrsin our garden, but they are not so melodious, and it almost saddens theheart!"
Cardinal Bernis now approached with the silver vase. On this occasion hehad taken it upon himself to collect the themes, and with a respectfulbow he handed them to the princess. With a gracious smile she took oneof the papers and unfolded it. The subject was, "Longing for home."
That was a theme well calculated to inspire Natalie, and to reawakenin her all her longings, sorrows, loves, and remembrances. She suddenlyfelt something like a cold shudder in her heart, and glancing aroundwith a feeling of solitude and desertion, she saw nothing but curiousfaces and strange, staring eyes! She, also, was repudiated and homeless,and an excessive longing for the distant unknown home of her childhoodnow took possession of her.
Perhaps Carlo had read her thoughts upon her brow; low and plaintivemelodies poured from his harp, as it were the rustling murmurs offar-off remembrances, the sighing and sobbing of a yearning heart.And Natalie, carried away by these tones, forgetful of all around her,mindful only of the happiness of her childhood and of the lady she hadso dearly loved, began to sing.
Of what she said and what she sang she was unconscious. She stood thereas if elevated by inward inspiration; her eyes flashed as she staredinto the far distance, and the images she saw there caused her to smileand weep at the same time; all the glow, all the childlike purity of hersoul, came in words from her lips in a stream of inspiration, of painfulecstasy!
She saw nothing, heard nothing! She saw not the ladies weeping withemotion, not the rapturous glances of the men; she had entirelyforgotten all those strange, unknown people; and when the constantlyincreasing storm of applause finally reminded her of them, it was allover with her inspiration--the words died upon her lips, and with a sadsmile she hastened to the conclusion.
And now arose a shout and an outbreak of rapture which caused Natalie totremble with anxious timidity. She cast a searching glance around her;it seemed to her that Paulo must come to her relief, that he must rescueand redeem her from the enthusiastic and flattering men who surroundedher. She saw him not! Where was Paulo, where was Carlo? Theseinquisitive lord cardinals had formed a circle around her, she seemedto herself a prisoner; it alarmed her to thus find herself the centralpoint of all these attractions.
Not far from her stood Corilla, with glowing cheeks and anger-flashingeyes.
"I will avenge this affront or die!" thought she, as, grasping Albani'shand with convulsive violence, she whispered to him: "Free me from thiswoman, and I will realize all your wishes."
Francesco Albani smiled. "Then you are mine, Corilla, and no power onearth shall take you from me. That child is dead. See, see how she makesherself a path through the crowd--ah, it is too sultry for her here inthe hall, she approaches the garden door, she slips out. Ah, give meyour hand, Corilla. Yet a few moments and the fairest woman on earth ismine!"
Light as a gazelle, timid and trembling, Natalie had fled the crowd, andnow, stepping out into the garden, she breathed easier, it seeming toher that she had escaped a danger.
"This night air will cool and refresh me, and I shall soon succeed infinding Paulo," thought she, constantly wandering farther and fartherinto the garden. But the brightness of the illuminated alleys annoyedher. A more obscure and secluded path opening, Natalie entered it.Ah, she needed solitude and stillness, and what knew she, this simple,harmless child of Nature--what knew she whether it was proper and seemlyfor a young woman thus alone to venture into these dark walks? She knewnot that she incurred any risk, or that one needed protection amongpeople!
Even farther resounded the noise of the festival--the clang of the musicsounded fainter and fainter. Natalie wandered farther and farther, happybecause alone!
Alone? What, then, was it that noiselessly and cautiously haunted hersteps, following every movement she made, constantly nearing her thefarther she found herself, as she supposed, from all other livingbeings? What was it inaudibly creeping through the bushes, even its darkshadow imperceptible, that followed her like a ghost?
It became stiller and stiller, and nearer crept the gloomy form thatlurked in her steps. Now with a sudden spring he rushes upon the maiden.What gleams in his hand? It is a dagger. He swings it high, that hemay sink it deep. Then some one rushes from the bushes, seizes themurderer's arm, wrests the dagger from his hand, hurls him to the earth,and a dear, well-known voice cries: "Fly, Natalie, fly quickly to CountPaulo! This serpent will no longer follow you! I have him fast, theassassin!"
And Carlo broke out into a happy and triumphant laugh.
Natalie made no answer, she was paralyzed with terror; there was aroaring in her ears, it darkened before her eyes, and she fell senselessto the earth!
But he
r disarmed murderer sought to free himself from Carlo's grasp.Struggling with his captor, he finally succeeded in half rising. Carlothought not of his own danger, but only of Natalie's, and it was onlyon her account that he now loudly called for help, at the same timeexerting a superhuman strength to hold on upon his prisoner.
Voices were heard, lights approached, and Paulo's cry of anguishresounded.
"Here, here!" anxiously cried Carlo, his strength already beginning tofail him. And his call being recognized, people soon came with lights.Count Paulo was already distinguishable, already Cardinal Bernis, with alight in his hand, was hastening on in advance of the rest.
With a last powerful effort the prisoner succeeded in freeing himself.
"She is saved for this time, but my dagger will yet make heracquaintance!" said he, with a scornful laugh, and like a serpent heglided away among the bushes.
"She is saved!" cried Carlo, sinking back toward Count Paulo, andpointing with a happy smile to Natalie, who, awaking from her momentarystupefaction, stretched forth her arms toward the count.
"Paulo," she whispered low, "let us hasten from here! I dread thesepeople! I fear them! Let us go! But take him with us, that they may notkill him, my saviour, my friend Carlo!"