|
|
|
Rosabella, the idol of all Venice, lay on the bed of sickness; a sorrow, whose cause was carefully concealed from every one, undermined her health, and destroyed the bloom of her beauty. She loved the noble Flodoardo; and who could have known Flodoardo and not have loved him? His majestic stature, his expressive countenance, his enthusiastic glance, his whole being declared aloud--Flodoardo is Nature's favourite, and Rosabella had been always a great admirer of Nature.
But if Rosabella was ill, Flodoardo was scarcely better. He confined himself to his own apartment; he shunned society, and frequently made long journeys to different cities of the Republic, in hopes of distracting his thoughts by change of place from that object which, wherever he went, still pursued him. He had now been absent for three whole weeks. No one knew in what quarter he was wandering; and it was during this absence that the so-long expected Prince of Monaldeschi arrived at Venice to claim Rosabella as his bride.
His appearance, to which a month before Andreas looked forward with such pleasing expectation, now afforded but little satisfaction to the Doge. Rosabella was too ill to receive her suitor's visits, and he did not allow her much time to recover her health; for six days after his arrival at Venice the Prince was found murdered in a retired part of one of the public gardens. His sword lay by him unsheathed and bloody; his tablets were gone, but one leaf had been torn from them and fastened on his breast. It was examined, and found to contain the following lines, apparently written in blood:-
"Let no one pretend to Rosabella's hand, who is not prepared to share the fate of Monaldeschi. "The Bravo, "ABELLINO."
"Oh, where shall I now fly for comfort? for protection?" exclaimed the Doge in despair, when this dreadful news was announced. "Why, why, is Flodoardo absent?"
Anxiously did he now desire the youth's return, to support him under the weight of these heavy misfortunes; nor was it long before that desire was gratified. Flodoardo returned.
"Welcome, noble youth!" said the Doge, when he saw the Florentine enter his apartment. "You must not in future deprive me of your presence for so long. I am now a poor forsaken old man. You have heard that Lomellino--that Manfrone--"
"I know all," answered Flodoardo, with a melancholy air.
"Satan has burst his chains, and now inhabits Venice under the name of Abellino, robbing me of all that my soul holds precious. Flodoardo, for Heaven's love, be cautious; often, during your absence, have I trembled lest the miscreant's dagger should have deprived me too of YOU. I have much to say to you, my young friend, but I must defer it till the evening. A foreigner of consequence has appointed this hour for an audience, and I must hasten to receive him--but in the evening--"
He was interrupted by the appearance of Rosabella, who, with tottering steps and pale cheeks, advanced slowly into the apartment. She saw Flodoardo, and a faint blush overspread her countenance. Flodoardo rose from his seat, and welcomed her with an air of distant respect.
"Do not go yet," said the Doge; "perhaps in half an hour I may be at liberty: in the meanwhile I leave you to entertain my poor Rosabella. She has been very ill during your absence; and I am still uneasy about her health. She kept her bed till yesterday, and truly I think she has left it too soon."
The venerable Doge quitted the apartment, and the lovers once more found themselves alone. Rosabella drew near the window; Flodoardo at length ventured to approach it also.
"Signora," said he, "are you still angry with me?"
"I am not angry with you," stammered out Rosabella, and blushed as she recollected the garden scene.
"And you have quite forgiven my transgression?"
"Your transgression?" repeated Rosabella, with a faint smile; "yes, if it was a transgression, I have quite forgiven it. Dying people ought to pardon those who have trespassed against them, in order that they, in their turn, may be pardoned their trespasses against Heaven--and I am dying; I feel it."
"Signora!"
"Nay, 'tis past a doubt. It's true, I have quitted my sick-bed since yesterday; but I know well that I am soon to return to it, never to leave it more. And therefore--therefore, I now ask your pardon, signor, for the vexation which I was obliged to cause to you the last time we met."
Flodoardo replied not.
"Will you not forgive me? You must be very difficult to appease-- very revengeful!"
Flodoardo replied not.
"Will you refuse my offered hand? Shall all be forgotten?"
"Forgotten, lady? Never, never--every word and look of yours is stamped on my memory, never to be effaced. I cannot forget a transaction in which YOU bore a part: I cannot forget the scene that passed between us, every circumstance is too precious and sacred. As to PARDON"--he took her extended hand and pressed it respectfully to his lips--"I would to Heaven, dear lady, that you had in truth injured me much, that I might have much to forgive you. Alas! I have at present nothing to pardon."
Both were now silent. At length Rosabella resumed the conversation by saying--"You have made a long absence from Venice; did you travel far?"
"I did."
"And received much pleasure from your journey?"
"Much; for everywhere I heard the praises of Rosabella."
"Count Flodoardo," she interrupted him with a look of reprehension, but in a gentle voice, "would you again offend me?"
"That will soon be out of my power. Perhaps you can guess what are my present intentions."
"To resume your travels soon?"
"Exactly so; and the next time that I quit Venice, to return to it no more."
"No more?" she repeated, eagerly. "Oh, not so, Flodoardo! Ah, can you leave me?"--She stopped, ashamed of her imprudence. "Can you leave my uncle? I meant to say. You do but jest, I doubt not."
"By my honour, lady, I never was more in earnest."
"And whither, then, do you mean to go?"
"To Malta, and assist the knights in their attacks upon the corsairs of Barbary. Providence, perhaps, may enable me to obtain the command of a galley, then will I call my vessel 'Rosabella;' then shall the war-cry be still 'Rosabella;' that name will render me invincible."
"Oh! this is a mockery, Count. I have not deserved that you should sport with my feelings so cruelly."
"It is to SPARE your feelings, signora, that I am now resolved to fly from Venice; my presence might cause you some uneasy moments. I am not the happy man whose sight is destined to give you pleasure; I will, at least, avoid giving you pain."
"And you really can resolve to abandon the Doge, whose esteem for you is so sincere, whose friendship has always been so warm?"
"I value his friendship highly, but it is not sufficient to make me happy, and could he lay kingdoms at my feet, still would his friendship be insufficient to make me happy."
"Does, then, your happiness require so much?"
"It does--much more than I have mentioned, infinitely more. But one boon can make me happy; I have begged for it on my knees." He caught her hand and pressed it eagerly to his lips. "I have begged for it, Rosabella, and my suit has been rejected."
"You are a strange enthusiast," she said with difficulty, and scarcely knew what she said, while Flodoardo drew her gently nearer to him, and murmured in a supplicating voice, "Rosabella!"
"What would you of me?"
"My happiness!"
She gazed upon him for a moment undecided, then hastily drew away her hand, and exclaimed, "Leave me, this moment, I command you. Leave me, for Heaven's sake!"
Flodoardo clasped his hands together in despair and anguish. He bowed his head in token of obedience. He left her with slow steps and a melancholy air, and as he passed the threshold, turned to bid her farewell for ever. Suddenly she rushed towards him, caught his hand, and pressed it to her heart.
"Flodoardo," she cried, "I am thine!" and sank motionless at his feet.
 |  |  |
|
|
|