CHAPTER IX
One Struggle more
The Marchese reached the Palazzo Castelmare unobserved by any one, saveold Quinto Lalli, who had been for some time past watching the door ofhis adopted daughter from a neighbouring corner, in order to ascertainwhen he might go home to his bed without infringing the order that hadbeen given him.
"And what do you think of it now, papa mio?" said the Diva, when she hadvery faithfully, though summarily, recounted the scene which had justpassed, to her old friend and counsellor.
"Well, I see no reason to despair of the result," said Quinto. "You didnot expect him to jump at the idea of making you Marchesa di Castelmare,I suppose? Of course he was a little staggered; and, probably, his ownnotion at this moment is, that he would rather never see your faceagain, than dream of such a thing. Ma, ci vuol pazienza! My notion is,that you will have him nibbling at the hook again before long. Thatlittle hint about the nephew was masterly. Depend upon it that will doits work."
"But, Quinto, I did not say a word to him that was not true--hardly aword. I do like him better, by an hundred times, than any other man Iever knew; and if I succeed, you see if I do not make him a good wife; Iswear I will! As for Signor Ludovico, that is all trash and nonsense. Hebelongs to his Venetian, body and soul: and he has enough to think of,poor boy, in scheming to get out of the marriage they have planned forhim."
"What! he wants to marry the Venetian, does he?" asked Quinto.
"Yes; they have engaged themselves to each other; she would not hear ofanything else."
"Lord bless me! how moral and respectable the world is growing. Isuppose Cupid himself will be attended by a gentleman in cassock andbands before long, and Mars will make Venus an honest woman, as thephrase goes. Well, I am not sorry I had my day in the old time. It wouldbe rare fun, though, if these grand Signori, the uncle and the nephew,were both to be hooked in the same fashion at the same time."
"There is nothing against the character of the Venetian of any sort,"said Bianca, with a sigh.
"Ta, ta, ta! I'd back your chance of the uncle against her chance of thenephew, any day of the week."
"Ludovico is solemnly engaged to her."
"I'd hold to my bet, all the same for that; and now let's get to bed,you have to sing to-morrow night."
"Yes, and I'm regularly tired out; good-night."
The Marchese Lamberto was probably hardly less in need of rest, when hereached the Palazzo Castelmare. But he did not equally feel that it waswithin his reach. He shut himself into his room; and throwing himselfinto an easy chair, with one hand pressed to his fevered brow, strove tothink; set himself to think out the possibilities of the present, andthe prospects of the future, as far as the blinding volcano bursts ofpassion, which ever and anon threatened to sweep all power of thoughtaway, would permit him to do so.
So this was the meaning of all the difficulties, which Bianca had made.She had absolutely conceived the idea of his marrying her. Heavens andearth! Was she mad? But, at all events, if this notion had been thecause of all her fighting off of his advances for the last month past,it was not necessary to attribute her conduct to any preference for somemore favoured lover; she had assured him that she loved him--loved himas she had never loved another. And, gracious heaven, how lovely shelooked as she said it!
He pressed his hands before his eyes, and saw again in fancy thebeautiful vision; gloated on the eloquent movement of her person in theearnestness of her confession; looked again into those large appealinghonest eyes, which seemed to be so incapable of lending their voucher toa lie. Surely it could not be that all those protestations andassurances were false,--mere comedy got up for the purpose of deludinghim. That she was worldlily anxious to secure so great a prize as thatwhich she was trying for was natural enough--was matter of course. Butsurely, surely there was genuine affection in that glance. Was it notlikely to be genuine,--that feeling that she could not be to him whatshe had been to others? It must have been abundantly clear to her thathad she chosen to accept from him what he had offered her, she mighthave amply satisfied any mercenary views, the most exorbitant. Thereforeher views and her feelings were of a different order.
And then the thought of being so loved by such a creature--of beingreally loved for himself--loved as she had never loved before, made forthe moment all other thought impossible to him: he started from hischair, and paced the room with rapid disordered strides. What was allthe world to the ecstasy of such a love? All--all that he had hithertolived for, was it not flat, stale, poor, puerile, in comparison to it?Why not leave all, and seize a happiness so infinitely greater than anyhe had ever known or imagined? Why not marry her, and be hers for ever,as she was anxious to be his? Nobles of higher rank than his had done asmuch before. Why not?
What would they all say and think? All his world, that he had livedamong, and lived for, from his cradle upwards: the Cardinal, his sister,his nephew, Violante? The whole society which had looked up to him assome one altogether above the sphere of human frailties and follies: howcould he face them? What say to them? Why face them at all? Why notleave all, and make a new world for himself and the one dear companionof it? Marry her, and take her safe away from all her past, and from allhis. Why not?
But would she consent to that? Would that be her idea of a marriage withthe Marchese di Castelmare? Was it not likely that she would prefer tobe Marchesa di Castelmare in the Palazzo Castelmare,--in Ravenna,where--ha!--where Ludovico was, for whom she had so much regard? who wasso frequently with her. That poor Violante! Of course he knew that therecould be no love between her and his nephew. Ludovico had promised thatthat marriage should be made. Ay, marry the uncle, to be the nephew'smistress with all convenience! Such things had often been; there wasnothing new in the arrangement--nothing original in the idea--why, thevery stage was full of such examples: he to be the old duped husband ofthe farce; he saw it all.
And as these thoughts also suggested themselves to his mind, his heartseemed as though it were clutched by a hand of ice, while his browthrobbed and his head burned with the pulsing blood.
He threw himself on to his chair again, and tore his hair with rage andanguish; and all those vivid and palpitating love-representations whichpassion had but now painted on the retina of his eye, were reproduced byjealousy with the difference that Ludovico instead of himself was theactor in them.
It was maddening; his brain seemed to reel; a cold sweat broke out allover him. The fear dashed across his mind that he should really lose hisreason.
Was there, he thought to himself, as the terror of this made himshudder--was there that night in all Ravenna so miserable a being ashimself? And that miserable man, cowering there in the restlessness ofhis agony, was the Marchese Lamberto di Castelmare; he whose whole lifehad been one placid scene of happiness, prosperity, and content. Neverhad he known a passion strong enough and forbidden enough to cause him apang or a sleepless hour till now. Had not his life been happy? What didhe want with more? Ah, if he could but blot out for ever all that thelast month had brought with it. If he could but be again as he had beenbefore this woman had cast her sorcery on him. Ah, would to God that hiseyes had never seen her!
Was it yet too late? Could he not even now tear her from his mind, shuthis eyes to the recollection of her, so command his imagination that itshould never again present the image of her to his fancy?
And thereupon forthwith uncommanded fancy was busy with every detail ofthe beauties that had so made him their slave. The line of the neck andshoulder which he had looked down on as he stood at the sofa head; allthe white ivory from the fresh innocent rosy little ear to the swell ofthe curves about the bosom; the intoxicating perfume from the heavytresses of the hair; the lithe slender waist, round and yielding; theslight nervous hands, the touch of whose fingers fired the blood, as amatch fires gunpowder; the exquisite feet; and, oh God! that face, whoseevery feature, as he last looked on it, was harmonized in an expressionof love.
Quite still he sate for some minutes, consci
ous of nothing save thepictures which memory was passing before his eye. Then suddenly, with abound, he sprang from his chair, and away from it, and beat his headagainst the opposite wall of the large room.
"Fool, fool; enslaved, besotted idiot! I am lost, spelled; the victim ofsorcery I cannot fight against. What am I to do, what am I to do? SurelyI can keep my steps from going near her. If I were to swear now that Iwill never set eyes on her more?"
And then he recollected that it was impossible for him even to seek thatmeans of safety without giving rise to all kinds of observations, andwonder, and speculation in the city. He was to see the prima donna onthe following day. His habits in such matters, well known to all thetown, brought him into frequent contact with Bianca, as with otherladies who had been similarly engaged in Ravenna. What would be thought,or guessed, or said, if he were suddenly to refuse to hold any furthercommunication with her?
And would he not thus be simply leaving the coast all free to hisnephew? To be sure. There, there, he could see it all. And that was theworst hell of all. Anything, anything was preferable to that. Come whatwould that should never, never, never be. Rather--rather anything. Hegnashed his teeth, and clenched his hand; and a sudden agony of hatredfor both Bianca and his nephew seemed to steal like a snake into hisheart, and maddened him.
And thus the miserable man passed the greater part of the night inuseless strugglings with the bonds that bound him.
It was near morning before he crept, still sleepless, but utterly wornout, to his bed.
He did sleep, exhausted as he was, after awhile; but it was only to seeagain in dreams all that he had so bitterly wished that he had neverseen at all. Sometimes he was himself by Bianca's side, licensed torevel to the full in her every charm. And then the dream would change.It was Ludovico he saw in her white arms; and he started from hisfevered sleep bathed in perspiration and quivering in every limb.
The next morning he was, in truth, quite ill enough to have furnished avery sufficient and unsuspected excuse for not going to meet theimpresario at Bianca's house according to appointment. He thought atfirst that he would do so. But as the time drew near, he dragged himselffrom his bed, haggard, fevered, and looking very ill, and crawled to theappointed meeting.
BOOK IV
The last Days of the Carnival