"de Musset, Alfred - Tizianello" - читать интересную книгу автора (Musset Alfred De)

member of the Council of Ten, and great-granddaughter of the famous Loredano,
who took such an active part in the trial of Giacomo Foscari. The pride of this
family was but too well known in Venice, and Beatrice passed, in the eyes of
all, as having inherited the spirit of her ancestors. When still quite young,
she had been married to the procurator Marco Donato, and the death of the latter
had left her free and in possession of great wealth. The first nobles of the
republic were her suitors, but she answered the efforts they made to please her
with but disdainful indifference. In a word, her lofty and almost savage
character had, so to speak, become a proverb. Pippo was therefore doubly
surprised, for if, on the one side, he had never supposed that his mysterious
conquest was Beatrice Donato, on the other, it seemed to him, on looking at her,
that he saw her for the first time, so different was she from herself. Love,
which can give charms to the most vulgar face, at this moment was showing her
omnipotence in thus embellishing one of nature's masterpieces.
After a few moments of silence, Pippo approached his lady and took her hand. He
tried to picture to her his surprise and to thank her for his happiness, but she
did not answer and did not appear to be listening. She remained immovable and
seemed to distinguish nothing, as if all that surrounded her had been a dream.
He spoke to her for a long time, without her making a single movement;
nevertheless, he placed his arm round Beatrice's waist and sat down near her.
"You sent me yesterday," said he to her, "a kiss on a rose. Allow me to return
what I have received, on a more beautiful and fresher flower."
While talking thus he kissed her on the lips. She made no effort to stop him,
but her looks, which appeared to be wandering, suddenly became fixed on Pippo.
She softly pushed him away, and shaking her head with a sadness full of grace,
she said:
"You will not love me, but will only treat me as a fancy. But I love you and I
wish, first of all, to kneel before you." And in fact she did bend before him.
Pippo vainly held her, begging her to rise, but she slipped through his arms and
knelt on the floor.
It is not usual nor even agreeable to see a woman take this humble position.
Although it is a mark of love, it seems to exclusively belong to man. It is a
penitent attitude that one can not see without emotion, and which has sometimes
exacted, from a judge, pardon for the guilty. Pippo watched with growing
surprise the admirable spectacle before him. If he had been seized with respect
on seeing Beatrice, what must he have felt on seeing her at his feet? The widow
of Donato, the daughter of Loredano, was on her knees. Her velvet robe,
embroidered with silver flowers, covered the flagstones; her veil and her hair
undone were trailing on the ground. In this beautiful frame there appeared her
white shoulders and her joined hands, while her wet eyes were raised to Pippo.
Moved to the depths of his heart, he retreated a step or two and felt
intoxicated with pride. He was not noble and the patrician haughtiness that
Beatrice threw off, passed like a flash of lightning through the young man's
heart.
But this flash lasted only for a second and rapidly vanished. Such a sight is
bound to produce more than a feeling of vanity. When we bend over a limpid
spring our image immediately appears and our approach brings to life a brother
who, at the bottom of the water, comes before us. So, in the human soul, love
calls love and gives it birth with a look. Pippo also fell on his knees. In this
position, one before the other, they both remained for a few moments, exchanging