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

the lady, on nearing the door, lift her mask and Pippo give her a last kiss, he
noiselessly advanced and listened.
"Had you never noticed me?" Beatrice was gaily asking.
"Yes," answered Pippo, "but I did not know your face. You yourself, I am sure,
do not doubt your beauty."
"Nor you either. You are as beautiful as day, a thousand times more so than I
thought. Shall you love me?"
"Yes, and for a long time."
"And I always."
With these words they separated and Pippo remained on the step, following with
his eyes the gondola that was carrying Beatrice Donato.
CHAPTER VI
TWO weeks had passed and Beatrice had not yet spoken of the project she had
formed. To tell the truth, she had somewhat forgotten it herself. The first days
of an amorous union are like the voyages of the Spaniards when they discovered
the new world. On embarking, they promised their government to follow precise
instructions, to bring back maps, and to civilize America. But hardly had they
arrived when the sight of an unknown sky, a virgin forest, a mine of gold or
silver made them lose their memory. To run after a novelty, they forgot their
promises and the whole of Europe, but they happened to discover a treasure: and
thus will lovers sometimes act.
Still another reason gave Beatrice an excuse. During these two weeks Pippo had
not gambled and had not once gone to the Comtesse Orsini's. It was the beginning
of wisdom. At least Beatrice thought so, and I do not know if she was right or
wrong. Pippo passed half the day with his mistress and the other half in
watching the sea and in drinking the wine of Samos in an alehouse of the Lido.
His friends no longer saw him. He had altered all his habits and worried neither
about time, the hour of day, nor his actions.
In a word, he was enthused with the deep forgetfulness of all things which the
first kisses of a beautiful woman always leave behind them, and can you say of a
man, in such a case, that he was wise or foolish?
To make use of a word which expresses it all, Pippo and Beatrice were made for
each other. They had noticed it since the first day, but still they wanted time
to be convinced of it, and for that a month was not too long. So a month went by
without a word about painting. On the other hand, love, music on the water and
walks outside the city were much indulged in. Great ladies sometimes prefer a
secret pleasure party at an inn in the suburbs,to a small supper in a boudoir.
Beatrice was of this opinion, and she preferred a fresh fish eaten tete-a-tete
with Pippo under the arbors of Quintavalle, to even the dinners of the Doge. The
meal over, they would get into a gondola and go wandering around the Island of
the Armenians. It is there, between the city and the Lido, between the sky and
the sea, that I advise the reader to go, on a fine moonlight night, and make
love to the ladies of Venice.
At the end of a month, one day when Beatrice had secretly come to Pippo, she
found him happier than usual. When she entered, he had just breakfasted and was
walking up and down, singing. The sun lit up his room and caused a silver dish
full of sequins to glisten. He had gambled the previous night and had won
fifteen hundred piasters from Ser Vespasiano. With this sum he had purchased a
Chinese fan, perfumed gloves, and a gold chain made in Venice and wonderfully
chased. He placed these all in a cedar box encrusted with mother-of-pearl, which