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

Palace. It was an historical subject, treated with a spirit and a boldness of
touch almost worthy of Titian himself. Sold to a wealthy senator, this canvas
had suffered the same lot as a great number of valuable works. The imprudence of
a valet had reduced this wealth to ashes. But that was Pippo's smallest trouble.
He thought only of the bad luck which had followed him with such unusual
obstinacy and of the dice which had caused his loss.
On returning home, his first act was to remove the cloth that covered his table
and to count the money remaining in his drawer: then, being naturally of a gay
and heedless character, when he had undressed, he sat at the window in his
dressing-gown. Seeing that it was broad daylight, he wondered if he should close
the shutters and go to bed or wake up like the rest of the world. It was a long
time since he had seen the sun in the quarter whence it rises, and he found the
sky more pleasing than usual. Before deciding to get up or to sleep, and still
struggling against slumber, he took his chocolate on the balcony. As soon as his
eyes closed, he could see a table, agitated hands and pale figures, and could
hear the sound of the dice-boxes. "What fatal luck!" he murmured. "It is
scarcely credible for one to lose with fifteen." And he saw his usual adversary,
the old Vespasiano Memmo, throwing eighteen and taking possession of the gold
that lay piled on the table. He quickly opened his eyes, to remove this bad
dream, and watched the young girls walking on the quay. He seemed to see afar
off a masked woman. He was astonished, although a carnival was taking place, for
poor people are not masked, and it was strange that a Venetian lady should be
out alone and on foot at such an hour.[1] But he saw that what he had taken for
a mask was the face of a negress. He saw her soon from a closer point of view
and noticed that she was possessed of tolerable good looks. She walked very
fast, and a gust of wind driving her dress, streaked with flowers, tight against
her hips, showed the outline of a graceful figure. Pippo leaned on the balcony
and saw, not without surprise, that the negress was knocking at his door.
[1 In bygone times, the Venetians were out and masked as long as the carnival
lasted.]
The porter was slow in opening.
"What do you want?" cried the young man. "Is it I that you want, brunette? My
name is Vecellio, and, as they are keeping you waiting, I will come and open the
door myself."
The negress raised her head.
"Is your name Pomponio Vecellio?"
"Yes, or Pippo, whichever you wish."
"You are Titian's son?"
"At your service. What can I do for you?"
After casting a rapid and curious glance at Pippo, the negress stepped back a
pace or two and cleverly threw up on the balcony a small box done up in paper,
then rushed off precipitately, occasionally turning round. Pippo picked up the
box, opened it and found a delicate purse wrapped up in cotton. He suspected
with reason that under the cotton there might be a note explaining this
adventure. The note was there, all right, but was as mysterious as the rest, for
it contained but these words:
"Do not spend too lavishly what I enclose. When you go out put to my charge a
gold piece; that is sufficient for one day. And if in the evening there is
anything left, however little it may be, you can find a beggar who will thank
you for it."