300NELLO ENTERS THE ALDINI PALACE.While my master was at the wineshop, I climbed on the awning of my gondola, and thence to the sill of a window on the lower floor; then I grasped the balcony rail, drew myself up, climbed over it and found myself behind the curtain.
NELLO ENTERS THE ALDINI PALACE.While my master was at the wineshop, I climbed on the awning of my gondola, and thence to the sill of a window on the lower floor; then I grasped the balcony rail, drew myself up, climbed over it and found myself behind the curtain.
NELLO ENTERS THE ALDINI PALACE.
While my master was at the wineshop, I climbed on the awning of my gondola, and thence to the sill of a window on the lower floor; then I grasped the balcony rail, drew myself up, climbed over it and found myself behind the curtain.
My curiosity on this subject took such complete possession of my young brain that one day I yielded to a temptation I had conquered many times. While my master was at the wineshop, I climbed on the awning of my gondola, and thence to the sill of a window on the lower floor; then I grasped the balcony rail, drew myself up, climbed over it and found myself behind the curtain.
I had before me the interior of a sumptuously furnished cabinet; but the only object that struck my eye was the harp, standing silent amid the rest of the furniture, above which it towered proudly. The ray of sunlight which shone into the cabinet when I drew the curtain partly aside fell upon the gilding of the instrument, and made the beautiful carved swan that surmounted it gleam brightly. I stood motionless with admiration, never wearying of examining its slightest details, the graceful frame, which reminded me of the prow of a gondola, the slender chords, which seemed to be of spun gold, the gleaming copper, and the satin-lined wooden case, whereon were painted birds, flowers, and butterflies, richly colored and of an exquisite workmanship.
However, amid all those superb objects, the shape and uses of which were quite unfamiliar to me, my mind was still beset by doubt. Was I not mistaken? Was it really the harp that I was looking at? I determined to make sure of it; I entered the cabinet and placed an awkward, trembling hand on the strings. O rapture! they answered to my touch. Impelled by indescribable excitement, I made all those resonant voices speak, at random and in a sort of frenzy, and I do not believe that the most skilful and most skilfully led orchestra has ever, since that day, afforded me so much pleasure as the horrible confusion of sounds with which I filled Signora Aldini's apartment.
But my joy was not of long duration. A servant who was at work in the adjoining rooms ran to investigate the noise, and was so enraged to find that a little clodhopper in rags had stolen in that way and was abandoning himself to the love of art with such shocking disregard of the proprieties, that he set about expelling me by beating me out with his broom. I did not care to be dismissed in that way, and prudently retired to the balcony, intending to go away as I had come. But before I could climb over the balustrade, the servant pounced upon me, and I found myself confronted by the alternative of being beaten or turning a ridiculous somersault. I adopted a violent course, namely, to avoid the blow by stooping quickly, grasping my adversary by the legs, and thus throwing him forward with his breast against the balcony rail. Then to lift him up and throw him into the canal was the affair of a moment. That is the game that the children practise on one another at Chioggia. But I had no time to reflect that the balcony was twenty feet above the water, and that the poor devil of a footman might not know how to swim.
Luckily for him and for me he came to the surface at once and clung to the boats at thetraghetto. I was horribly frightened when I tossed him over; but, as soon as I saw that he was safe, I began to think about making my escape; for he was roaring with rage and would surely set all the pack of servants in the Aldini Palace upon me. I passed through the first door I saw, and, hurrying through the corridors, was about to go downstairs, when I heard indistinct voices apparently coming toward me. I ran upstairs again in hot haste, and took refuge under the eaves, where I hid in a garret among old worm-eaten pictures and discarded furniture.
I remained there two days and two nights, without a mouthful of food, afraid to venture forth into the midst of my enemies. There were so many people and so much going and coming in that house that one could not take a step without meeting some one. Through the little round windows in the garret I heard the remarks of the servants in the corridors of the floor below. They talked about me almost continuously, indulged in a thousand conjectures concerning my disappearance, and promised to give me a sound thrashing if they succeeded in catching me. I also heard my master on his gondola expressing surprise at my absence, and exulting at the thought of my return, with no less kindly designs. I was brave and strong; but I realized that I should be overborne by numbers. The prospect of being beaten by my master troubled me but little; that was one of the hazards of being an apprentice, which involved no disgrace. But the idea of being chastised by servants was so horrifying to me that I preferred to die of hunger. And my adventure came very near ending in that way. At fifteen years one does not readily endure starvation diet. An old lady's-maid, who came to the garret in search of a runaway pigeon, found instead of her fugitive the poorbarcarolino, unconscious and almost dead, at the foot of an old canvas representing a Saint Cecilia. The point that impressed me most profoundly in my distress was that the saint had in her arms a harp of antique shape, which I had abundance of leisure to contemplate amid the torments of hunger, and the sight of which became so hateful to me that for a long time thereafter I could not endure the sight or sound of that fatal instrument.
The good creature brought me back to life, and interested Signora Aldini in my fate. I speedily recovered from the effects of my fasting, and my persecutor, appeased by that expiation, accepted my acknowledgment of my wrong-doing, and my somewhat abrupt, but sincere expression of regret. My father, on learning from my master that I had disappeared, had come to Venice. He frowned when Signora Aldini expressed a purpose to take me into her service. He was a rough-mannered man, but proud and independent. In his view it was bad enough that my delicate constitution condemned me to live in the city. I was of too good a family to be a footman, and although gondoliers enjoyed important privileges in private establishments, there was a well-marked distinction in rank between public gondoliers andgondolieri di casa. These last were better dressed, to be sure, and shared the comforts of patrician life, but they were ranked as servants, and there was no such blemish in my family. However, Signora Aldini was so gracious and kindly that my excellent father, twisting his red cap about in his hands in his embarrassment, and constantly pulling his pipe from his pocket, as a matter of habit, could find nothing to reply to her affable words and her generous promises. He determined to leave me free to choose, expecting that I would refuse. But I, although I was utterly disgusted with the harp, could think of nothing but music. Signora Aldini exerted a magnetic influence over me which I cannot describe; it was a genuine passion, but an artistic passion, absolutely platonic and philharmonic. In the small room on the lower floor to which I had been taken—for I had several attacks of fever as a result of my fasting—I could hear her singing, and on those occasions she accompanied herself on the harpsichord, for she played equally well on several instruments. Intoxicated by her voice, I could not even understand my fathers scruples, and I accepted without hesitation the post of second gondolier at the Aldini palace.
It was good form in those days to bewell equippedwith gondoliers; that is to say, that, as the gondola in Venice corresponds to the carriage elsewhere, so gondoliers are at the same time luxuries and necessaries, like horses. All the gondolas being practically alike, according to the sumptuary law of the Republic, which required that they should all be draped in black, persons of wealth could make themselves noticeable among the multitude only by the figures and costumes of their oarsmen. The fashionable patrician's gondola would be propelled, at the stern, by a muscular man, of a masculine type of beauty; at the bow by a negro dressed in some unusual style, or by a fair-haired native, a sort of page or jockey, clad with taste and elegance, and placed there as an ornament, like the figure-head of a ship.
I was perfectly adapted to that honorable post. I was a genuine child of the lagoons, of fair complexion, ruddy-cheeked, very strong, with a somewhat feminine figure, my head and feet and hands being remarkably small, my chest broad and muscular, my arms and neck white and round and sinewy. Add to this, amber-colored hair, fine and abundant, and naturally curly; imagine a charming costume, half Figaro and half Cherubino, legs generally bare, sky-blue trunk hose kept up by a scarlet silk sash, and the breast covered simply by a shirt of embroidered linen, whiter than snow; then you will have an idea of the poor actor in embryo who was called in those days Nello, by contraction of his true name, Daniele Gemello.
As it is the fate of small dogs to be petted by idiotic masters and beaten by jealous servants, the ordinary lot of those in my position was a mixture of unbounded tolerance on the part of the former, and of brutal hatred on the part of the latter. Luckily for me, Providence cast my lines in a blessed spot: Bianca Aldini was the incarnation of kindness, indulgence, and charity. Widowed at twenty, she passed her life helping the poor and comforting the afflicted. Where there were tears to be wiped away, or alms to be bestowed, you would soon see her hurrying thither in her gondola, with her little four-year-old daughter in her lap; a fascinating miniature, so tiny, so pretty, and always so daintily dressed that it seemed as if her mother's lovely hands alone, in all the world, were soft and gentle and tapering enough to touch her without crushing or bruising her. Signora Aldini herself was always dressed with a taste and elegance which all the other ladies in Venice tried in vain to equal; she was immensely rich, loved luxury, and spent half of her income in the gratification of her artistic tastes and her patrician habits. The other half went in almsgiving, in favors bestowed, in benefactions of every sort. Although that was a sufficiently generouswidow's mite, as she called it, she artlessly accused herself of lacking energy, of not doing all that she ought; and, being moved to repentance rather than pride by her charity, she determined every day that she would leave society and devote herself to her own salvation. From this mixture of feminine weakness and Christian virtue you can see that she had not a strong mind, and that her intelligence was no more enlightened than the period and the social circle in which she lived demanded. For all that, I do not know that a better or more delightful woman ever lived. Other women, jealous of her beauty, her wealth and her virtue, avenged themselves by declaring that she was narrow-minded and ignorant. There was some truth in that charge, but Bianca was a most lovable woman, none the less. She had a reserve stock of common sense which prevented her from ever being ridiculous; and as for her lack of education, the ingenuous modesty which resulted from it was an additional charm. I have seen the most enlightened and most serious-minded men gathered about her, never weary of conversing with her.
Living thus at church and at the theatre, in the poor man's garret and at sumptuous palaces, she imposed gratitude or cheerfulness upon one and all. Her disposition was even and playful, and the character of her beauty was enough to shed serenity all about her. She was of medium height, as white as milk, and fresh as a flower; all was gentleness and youth and kindliness. Just as one would have looked in vain for a sharp angle in her own graceful person, so there was never the slightest asperity in her temper, the slightest break in her goodness. As active as the true spirit of devotion, and at the same time as inert as Venetian indolence, she never passed more than two hours during the day in the same place; but in her palace she was always lying on a sofa, and out-of-doors she was always stretched out in her gondola. She said that she was weak on her legs, and she never went up or down stairs without being supported by two persons; in her own apartments she always leaned on the arm of Salomé, a young Jewess, who waited upon her and acted as her companion. People said that Signora Aldini was lame as a result of the fall of a piece of furniture which her husband had pushed upon her in a fit of anger, and which had broken her leg. Although for more than two years she leaned on my arm as she went in and out of her palace, I never discovered the exact truth of the matter, she took so much pains and exerted so much skill to conceal her infirmity.
Despite her benevolence and sweetness of disposition, Bianca lacked neither discrimination nor prudence in the choice of her associates; I can safely say that I have never seen in any other place so many excellent people together. If you detect in me any kindness of heart, any praiseworthy pride, you must attribute it to my stay in that house. It was impossible not to contract the habit there of thinking, speaking and acting rightly; the servants were honest and hard-working, the friends faithful and devoted; even the lovers—for I cannot deny that there were lovers—were loyal and honorable. I had several masters while I was there; of them all the signora was the least imperious. However, they were all kind, or at all events just. Salomé, who was the executive officer of the household, maintained order with some little severity; she seldom smiled, and the great arch of her eyebrows was rarely divided into two quarter circles over her long black eyes. But she had much patience, a keen sense of equity, and a searching glance which never misinterpreted sincerity. Mandola, the chief gondolier and my immediate superior, was a Lombard giant, whose huge black whiskers and muscular frame might have led one to take him for Polyphemus. Nevertheless he was the mildest, calmest and most humane peasant who ever came down from his mountains to the civilization of great cities. Lastly, Count Lanfranchi, the handsomest man in the whole Republic, whom we had to row about every evening in a closed gondola with Signora Aldini, from ten o'clock to midnight, was the most gracious and amiable nobleman whom I have ever met.
I never knew anything of the late Signor Aldini except a full-length portrait, at the entrance to the gallery, in a superb frame, which stood out a little from the wall, and seemed to command a long file of ancestors, each darker and more venerable than the last, who receded, in chronological order, into the obscure depths of that vast room. Torquato Aldini was dressed in the latest fashion of his time, with a shirt-frill of Flanders lace and a morning coat of apple-green cloth with bright red frogs. He was beautifully frizzled and powdered. But, despite the elegance of that pastoral undress, I could not look at him without lowering my eyes; for there was upon his yellowish-brown face, in his blazing black eye, on his sneering and disdainful mouth, in his impassive attitude, and even in the dictatorial gesture of his long, thin, diamond-laden hand, such an expression of overbearing arrogance and inflexible harshness as I had never met with under the roof of that palace. It was a beautiful portrait, and the portrait of a handsome young man. He died at twenty-five, from wounds received in a duel with a Foscari, who dared to say that he was of a better family. He had left behind him a great reputation for courage and decision of character, but it was whispered that he had made his wife very unhappy, and the servants did not seem to regret him. He had kept them in such a state of dread that they never passed that picture after dark, startlingly true to life as it was, without uncovering as they would have done before their former master in person.
His hardness of heart must have caused the signora much suffering, and have disgusted her with the married state, for she refused to enter into a new contract, and rejected the bestpartisin the Republic. And yet she evidently had a yearning for love, for she tolerated Count Lanfranchi's assiduous attentions and seemed to deny him none of the joys of marriage except the indissoluble oath. After a year, the count, abandoning all hope of inspiring in her the necessary confidence for such an engagement as he desired, sought fortune elsewhere, and confessed to her that a certain wealthy heiress gave him more reason to hope. The signora generously gave him his liberty at once. She seemed depressed and ill for a few days, but at the end of a month the Prince of Montalegri took the place in the gondola left vacant by the ungrateful Lanfranchi, and for another year Mandola and I rowed that amiable and seemingly fortunate couple about the lagoons.
I was very deeply attached to the signora. I could imagine nothing on earth lovelier and better than she was. When she turned her sweet, almost motherly glance upon me, when she smilingly said a pleasant word to me—no others could come from her lovely lips—I was so proud and happy that, to afford her a moment's pleasure, I would have thrown myself under theBucentaur'ssharp keel. When she gave me an order, I flew; when she leaned on me, my heart beat fast for joy; when, to call the Prince of Montalegri's attention to my fine hair, she gently placed her snow-white hand on my head, I flushed with pride. And yet I was not jealous as I plied my oar with the prince seated beside her. I replied gayly to the kindly jests which the gentlemen of Venice love to exchange with the gondoliers, to test their wit and gift of repartee; and, despite the extraordinary liberty accorded to the challenged boatman under such circumstances, I had never felt the slightest inclination to make a bitter retort to the prince. He was an excellent young man; I was grateful to him for consoling the signora for Signor Lanfranchi's desertion. I had not that ridiculous humility which grovels before the privileges of high rank. We hardly recognize those privileges in this country, in the matter of love, and we recognized them even less in those days. There was not so much difference in age between the signora and myself that I might not fall in love with her. The fact is that I should be sorely embarrassed to-day to give a name to my feeling for her at that time. It was love, perhaps, but love as pure as my age; and tranquil love, because I was neither ambitious nor covetous.
In addition to my youth, my zeal in her service, and my mild and cheerful disposition, my love for music had pleased the signora particularly: it delighted her to see my emotion at the sound of her beautiful voice, and whenever she sang she sent for me. In her affable, unceremonious way, she would bid me come into her cabinet and permit me to sit beside Salomé. It seemed to me that she would have liked to see that inflexible task-mistress lay aside a little of her habitual austerity with me. But Salomé was to me a much more awe-inspiring person than the signora, and I was never tempted to be bold when she was present.
One day the signora asked me if I had any voice. I answered that I used to have, but that I had lost it. She wished me to try it before her. I objected, but she insisted upon it, and I had no choice but to yield. I was in dire distress, and convinced that it would be impossible for me to utter a sound, for it was fully a year since I had thought of such a thing. I was then seventeen years old. My voice had come back, but I had no suspicion of it. I put my head between my hands and tried to remember a passage from theJerusalem. By a mere chance I hit upon the passage which describes Olinde's love for Sophronia, and ends with this line:Brama assai, poco spera, nulla chiede. Thereupon, summoning courage, and yelling with all my strength, as if I were in mid-ocean, I made the thunderstruck hangings resound with that plaintive, sonorous lament, to which we sing on the lagoons of the exploits of Roland and the loves of Herminie. I had no suspicion of the effect I should produce. Expecting to hear the hoarse squeak which my throat produced when I last made the experiment, I nearly fell over backward when the organ which I unknowingly concealed within me manifested its power. The pictures hanging on the wall trembled, the signora smiled, and the strings of the harp replied to that resounding voice with a long vibration.
"Santo Dio!" cried Salomé, dropping her work and putting her hands over her ears, "the lion of St. Mark's would roar no louder!"
The little Aldini, who was playing on the floor, was so terrified that she began to shriek and weep.
I cannot say what the signora did. I only know that she and the child and Salomé and the harp and the cabinet all disappeared, and that I ran at full speed through the streets, having no idea what demon urged me on, until I reachedQuinta-Valle. There I jumped into a boat and rowed to the great plain which is now called the Field of Mars, and is still the most deserted spot in the city. As soon as I was alone and free, I began to sing with all the strength of my lungs. Miraculous! I had a voice of more power and range than any of thecupidsI used to admire at Chioggia. Hitherto I had supposed that I had not power enough, and I really had too much. It overflowed—it overwhelmed me. I threw myself face downward in the long grass, and, yielding to a paroxysm of delirious joy, burst into tears. O the first tears of the artist! They only can be compared in sweetness, or in bitterness, with the first tears of the lover.
Then I began to sing again, and repeated a hundred times in succession the scattered fragments I had remembered. As I sang on, the ear-splitting harshness of my voice wore off, and I felt that it became more flexible and tractable every moment. I felt no fatigue, the more I practised, the easier my respiration seemed. Then I ventured to try some of the operatic arias and romanzas which I had heard the signora sing in the past two years. In those two years I had worked hard and learned a great deal without suspecting it. Method had found its way into my head, by virtue and by instinct, and musical feeling into my heart by intuition and sympathy. I have very great respect for study, but I must admit that no singer ever studied less than myself. I was blessed with a marvellous readiness and memory. If I had once heard a passage, I could repeat it instantly and accurately. I tried that experiment that very day, and succeeded in singing from beginning to end the most difficult pieces in Signora Aldini's repertory.
The approach of night warned me to allow my excitement to subside. Then for the first time I realized that I had absented myself from my duties for a whole day, and I returned to the palace, embarrassed and repenting bitterly of my fault. It was the first of that sort I had committed, and I dreaded nothing so much as a rebuke from the signora, however mild it might be. She was at supper, and I crept timidly behind her chair. I never waited on her at table, for I had retained the pride of a true Chioggian, and had surrendered none of the exemptions attached to my privileged post. But, seeking to repair my fault by an act of humility, I took from Salomé's hands the porcelain dish she was about to offer her, and put out my hand awkwardly enough. Signora Aldini pretended at first not to notice, and allowed me to serve her thus for several minutes; then, as she stealthily looked up and met my piteous glance, she suddenly burst out laughing, and threw herself back in her chair.
"Your ladyship is spoiling him," said the stern Salomé, repressing an imperceptible desire to share her mistress's merriment.
"Why should I scold him?" replied the signora. "He frightened himself this morning, and ran away to punish himself, poor boy! I will bet that he has eaten nothing to-day. Go to your supper, Nellino. I forgive you on condition that you will sing no more."
This kindly sarcasm seemed very bitter to me. It was the first one I had ever noticed; for, despite all the opportunities offered for the development of my vanity, that was a sentiment with which I was not as yet acquainted. But pride awoke in me with power, and by making sport of my voice, she seemed to deny my heart and to attack my very life.
From that day the lessons which the signora unconsciously gave me, by practising in my presence, became more and more profitable to me. Every evening, as soon as my duties were at an end, I went to the Field of Mars to practise, and I knew that I was making progress. Soon the signora's lessons were no longer sufficient for me. She sang for her own pleasure, displaying a superb indifference for study, and making no effort to perfect herself. I had a most immoderate longing to go to the theatre; but, during the whole time of the performance, it was my lot to watch the gondola, as Mandola enjoyed the privilege of taking a seat in the pit or listening in the corridors. At last, however, I induced him to let me take his place during a single act of the opera at La Fenice. The opera was theSecret Marriage. I will not attempt to describe my feelings: I nearly went mad, and, breaking the promise I had made my companion, I allowed him to cool his heels in the gondola, and never thought of going out until I found that the hall was empty and in darkness.
After that I felt an irresistible, imperious craving to go to the theatre every night. I dared not ask Signora Aldini's permission; I was afraid that she would again make fun of my unfortunate passion—as she called it—for music. However, I must go to La Fenice or die. I had the reprehensible thought of leaving the signora's service and earning my living as afacchinoduring the day, so that I might have both time and means to go to the theatre. I calculated that with the small sum I had saved at the Aldini Palace, and by reducing my expenditure for food and clothing to what was absolutely necessary, I might be able to gratify my passion. I also thought of entering the employ of the theatre as a scene-shifter, supernumerary, or lamp-lighter; the most humble post would have seemed delightful to me, provided that I could listen to music every day. At last I determined to open my heart to the good-humored Montalegri. He had heard of my musical misadventure. He began by laughing; then, as I boldly persisted, he demanded, as a condition of his assistance, that I should let him hear my voice. I hesitated a long while; I was afraid that he would discourage me by his jests, and although I had no definite plans for the future, I felt that to deprive me of the hope of being able to sing some day would be like tearing out my life. However, I submitted to the inevitable: I sang in a trembling voice a fragment of one of the airs which I had heard a single time at the theatre. My emotion won the prince's heart; I saw in his eyes that he took pleasure in listening to me; I took courage and sang better and better. He raised his hands two or three times to applaud, but checked himself for fear of interrupting me; then I sang really well, and when I had finished, the prince, who was a genuine dilettante, almost kissed me, and praised me in the warmest terms. He took me to the signora and presented my petition, which was granted on the spot. But she too wanted me to sing, and I would not consent. My proud persistence in refusing astonished Signora Aldini without irritating her. She thought that she would overcome it later, but she did not easily succeed. The more I attended the theatre, and the more I practised and improved, the more conscious I became of all that I still lacked, and the more I dreaded to allow others to hear me and judge me before I was sure of myself. At last one superb moonlight night, on the Lido, as the signora, by lengthening her usual row, had made me miss the theatre and my hour of solitary practice, I was suddenly seized with a longing to sing, and I yielded to the inspiration. The signora and her lover listened to me in silence; and, when I had finished, they did not address a word to me, either of praise or blame. Mandola alone, having the keen taste for music of a true Lombard, cried several times when he heard my youthful tenor: "Corpo del diavolo! che buon basso!"
I was a little hurt by my mistress's heedlessness or indifference. I knew that I had sung well enough to deserve a word of praise from her mouth. Nor did I understand the prince's coldness after the praise he had lavished on me two months earlier. I learned afterward that my mistress was amazed by my talent and my powers, but that she had determined to seem unmoved by my first attempt, to punish me for making her beg so long.
I took the lesson to heart, and a few days later, when she called on me to sing while she was in the gondola, I complied with a good grace. She was alone, lying on the cushions of the gondola, and seemed to be in a melancholy frame of mind, which was by no means usual with her. She did not speak a word to me during the row; but when we returned and I offered my arm to assist her up the steps of the palace, she said these words to me, which left me in a strangely excited state:
"Nello, you have done me a vast deal of good. I thank you."
On the days following, I myself offered to sing. She seemed to accept my offer with gratitude. The heat was most intense and the theatres were closed; the signora said that she was ill; but what made the most impression on me was the fact that the prince, who was usually so assiduous in his attendance, had ceased to come with her oftener than once in two or three or even four evenings, I thought that he too was beginning to be unfaithful and I grieved for my poor mistress. I could not understand her obstinacy in refusing to marry; it seemed most unfair to me that Montalegri, who seemed to be so kind and gentle, should be sacrificed to the sins of the late Torquato Aldini. On the other hand, I could not understand why so sweet and lovely a woman should have for lovers only base speculators who were more covetous of her fortune than attached to her person, and sickened of the latter as soon as they despaired of obtaining the former.
These thoughts engrossed me so completely for several days that, notwithstanding my profound respect for my mistress, I could not refrain from communicating my ideas to Mandola.
"Don't make that mistake," he replied; "what has happened this time is just the opposite of what happened with Lanfranchi. The signora is sick of the prince and invents every day some new excuse to prevent his coming with her. What is the reason? That I cannot guess, for we see her all the time and know that she is alone, that she has no rendezvous with anyone. Perhaps she is turning religious altogether, and means to cut loose from society."
That same evening I started to sing to the signora a hymn to the Virgin; but she interrupted me instantly, saying that she had no desire to sleep, and asked for the loves of Armide and Renaud.
"He made a mistake," said Mandola, who had a certain shrewdness of his own, pretending to apologize for me. I changed my selection, and was listened to with attention.
I soon discovered that by singing in the open air and while the gondola was in motion, I tired myself a good deal, and that my voice was suffering. I consulted a teacher of music who came to the palace to give lessons to little Alezia Aldini, then six years old. He told me that, if I continued to sing out-of-doors, I should ruin my voice before the end of the year. That threat frightened me so that I resolved to sing no more under those conditions. But on the next day the signora asked me, with such a melancholy air, with such a sweet glance and such pale cheeks, to sing the barcarole fromLa Biondina, that I had not the heart to deny her the only pleasure that she had seemed capable of enjoying for some time past.
It was evident that she was growing thin and losing her bloom; she kept the prince more and more at a distance. She passed her life in the gondola, and even neglected the poor a little. She seemed to be giving way to a profound depression the cause of which we sought in vain.
There was one week when she apparently tried to divert her thoughts. She surrounded herself with company, and in the evening her gondola was attended by several others in which she placed her friends and the musicians hired to sing for them. Once she asked me to sing. I declined, alleging my unfitness to perform in the presence of professional musicians and numerousdilettanti. She insisted, gently at first, then with some irritation; I continued to refuse, and at last she ordered me, in a most imperative tone, to obey her. It was the first time in her life that she had lost her temper. And I, instead of reflecting that it was her illness which had changed her disposition thus, and humoring her, yielded to the suggestion of invincible pride, and declared that I was not her slave, that I had hired myself to her to row her gondola and not to entertain her guests; and, in a word, that I had nearly ruined my voice for her amusement, and that she rewarded me so ill for my self-sacrifice that I would sing no more for her or anyone else. She made no reply; the friends who accompanied her, amazed at my audacity, held their peace. A few minutes later, Salomé uttered a sharp exclamation and seized little Alezia, who, having fallen asleep in her mother's arms, nearly fell into the water. The signora had fainted some moments before, and no one had noticed it.
I dropped my oar; I talked at random; I went to the signora's side; I should have done some insane thing or other, if the prudent Salomé had not imperiously sent me back to my post. The signora came to herself and we made haste back to the palace. But the company was surprised and shocked, the music was all awry; and, for my own part, I was in such despair and terror, that my trembling hands could not hold the oar. I lost my wits, I ran into all the other gondolas. Mandola swore at me; but I, deaf to his warnings, turned every moment to look at Signora Aldini, whose pale face seemed, in the moonlight, to bear the stamp of death.
She passed a bad night; the next day she was feverish and kept her bed. Salomé refused to admit me. In spite of her refusal I stole into the bedroom and dropped on my knees beside the signora, weeping bitterly. She held out her hand, which I covered with kisses, and told me that I had done right to resist her.
"I have been exacting, capricious and cruel for some time past," she added with an angelic sweetness. "You must forgive me, Nello; I am ill, and I feel that I cannot control my temper as usual. I forget that you are not destined to remain a gondolier, and that a brilliant future is in store for you. Forgive me for this too; my friendship for you is so great that I had a selfish desire to keep you with me, and to bury your talent in this humble and obscure position which is ruining your prospects. You defended your independence and your dignity and you did well. Henceforth you shall be free, you shall study music; I will spare no pains to keep your voice unharmed and to develop your talent; you shall perform no other service for me than such as is dictated by affection and gratitude."
I swore that I would serve her all my life; that I would rather die than leave her; and, in truth, my attachment to her was so deep and so pure that I did not consider that I was taking a rash oath.
She was better after that, and insisted on my taking my first lessons in singing. She was present, and seemed to take the keenest interest. In the intervals between the lessons, she made me study and recite to her the elementary principles of music, of which I had not the slightest idea, although I had instinctively conformed to them when I sang naturally.
My progress was rapid. I ceased to do hard work of any kind. The signora pretended that the double movement caused by the two oars in alternation tired her, and Mandola's wages were doubled so that he might not complain of having to do all the work alone. As for myself, I was always in the gondola, but I sat in the bow, occupied solely in looking into my mistress's eyes to divine what I should do to please her. Her lovely eyes were very sad—very pensive. Her health improved at times, then became worse again. That was my only sorrow, but it was very keen.
She lost her strength more and more, and the assistance of our arms was no longer sufficient when she went upstairs. It became Mandola's duty to carry her like a child, as I carried little Alezia. That young lady grew more beautiful every day; but her style of beauty and her temperament made her the exact opposite of her mother. Alezia was as dark as her mother was fair. Her hair already fell to her knees in two heavy ebony braids; her little, soft, round arms stood forth like those of a young Moor against her silk clothing, always white as snow; for she was consecrated to the Virgin. As for her temperament, it was very strange for one of her years. I have never seen a child so grave and distrustful and silent. She seemed to have inherited the haughty nature of Signor Torquato. She was never on familiar terms with anyone; she never used the familiar words of address with any of us. A caress from Salomé she seemed to consider an insult, and the very utmost I could obtain, by dint of carrying her, waiting upon her and flattering her, was permission to kiss once a week the tips of her little pink fingers, of which she was already as careful as the most coquettish woman could have been. She was very cold to her mother, and passed long hours seated by her side in the gondola, with her eyes fixed on the water, silent, apparently insensible to everything, and as dreamy as a statue. But if the signora ventured to reprove her ever so mildly, or if she went to bed because of an attack of fever, the little one would fly into one of those paroxysms of frantic despair which aroused fears for her life or her reason.
One day she fainted in my arms because Mandola, who was carrying her mother, slipped on one of the steps and fell with her. The signora was slightly hurt, and from that day was unwilling to trust the skill of the Lombard giant. She asked me if I were strong enough to take his place. I was then at the height of my muscular development, and I told her that I could carry four women like herself and eight children like hers. After that I always carried her, for her strength did not return up to the time that I left her.
The time soon came when the signora seemed to be less light and the staircase harder to ascend. It was not because her weight was increasing, but because my strength failed me as soon as I took her in my arms. At first I did not understand it; then I reproached myself bitterly; but my emotion was insurmountable. That willowy and voluptuous figure which abandoned itself to me, that charming face almost touching mine, that alabaster arm around my bare and burning neck, that perfumed hair mingling with mine—it was too much for a lad of seventeen. It was impossible for her not to feel the hurried beating of my heart, and read in my eyes the disturbance that she caused in my senses. "I tire you," she would sometimes say with a languishing air. I could not reply to that sarcasm; my head would begin to whirl, and I was forced to run away as soon as I had placed her in her chair. One day it happened that Salomé was not, as usual, in her cabinet to receive her. I had some difficulty in arranging the cushions so that she could sit comfortably. My arms met around her waist. I found myself at her feet, my dizzy head resting on her knees. She ran her fingers through my hair. The sudden quivering of that hand revealed to me that of which I had had no conception. I was not the only one who was moved; I was not the only one on the point of giving way. We were no longer servant and mistress, gondolier and signora; we were a young man and a young woman who loved each other. A sudden light flashed through my mind and darted from my eyes. She hastily pushed me away, and exclaimed, in a stifled voice: "Go!" I obeyed, but as a conqueror. I was no longer the servant receiving an order, but the lover making a sacrifice.
Thereupon blind desire took possession of my whole being. I did not reflect; I felt neither fear nor scruple nor doubt. I had but one fixed idea, to be alone with Bianca. But that was more difficult than one might presume from her independent position. It seemed as if Salomé divined the danger, and had taken upon herself the task of protecting her mistress from it. She never left her, except sometimes at night when little Alezia wanted to go to bed at the hour when her mother went out in the gondola. At such times Mandola inevitably accompanied us on the lagoons. I saw plainly enough, by the signora's expression and her uneasiness, that she could not help desiring a tête-à-tête with me; but she was too weak either to seek it or to avoid it. I did not lack boldness or resolution, but not for anything under heaven would I have compromised her; and furthermore, so long as I had not actually won a victory in that delicate condition of affairs, my rôle might well be supremely ridiculous, even contemptible, in the eyes of the signora's other servants.
Luckily honest Mandola, who was not devoid of penetration, had for me an affection which never wavered. I should not be surprised, although he never gave me the right to assert it, if love had sometimes made a soft heart beat fast beneath that rough bark, when he carried the signora in his arms. It was extremely imprudent for a young woman to betray the secret of her love-affairs to two young men of our age, and almost flaunt them in our faces; and it was impossible for us to be witnesses of the good fortune of other men, for two years, without being unduly tempted. However that may be, I find it difficult to believe that Mandola would have detected so readily what was taking place in my heart, if something of the same sort had not taken place in his. One evening, as I sat at the bow of the gondola, lost in thought, my face hidden in my hands, waiting for the signora to send for us, he said to me: "Nello! Nello!!!"—nothing more, but in a tone which seemed to me to mean so much that I raised my head and looked at him with a sort of terror, as if my fate were in his hands.—He stifled something like a sigh, as he added the popular saying: "Sara quel che sara!"
"What do you mean?" I cried, rising and grasping his arm.
"Nello! Nello!" he repeated, shaking his head. At that moment they came to tell me to go up and bring the signora to the gondola; but Mandola's meaning glance followed me up the steps and moved me strangely.
That same day Mandola applied to Signora Aldini for a week's leave of absence, to go and see his sick father. Bianca seemed surprised and dismayed by the request; but she granted it at once, adding: "But who will row my gondola?"—"Nello," Mandola replied, watching me closely. "But he cannot row alone," rejoined the signora. "No matter, take me home, to-morrow we will look for a temporary substitute. Go to see your father, and take good care of him; I will pray for him."
The next day the signora sent for me, and asked me if I had made inquiries for a gondolier. I replied only by an audacious smile. The signora turned pale and said to me in a trembling voice: "You will attend to it to-morrow; I shall not go out to-day."
I realized my mistake; but the signora had shown more fear than anger, and my hope augmented my insolence. Toward evening I went and asked her if I should bring the gondola to the steps. She replied coldly: "I told you this morning that I should not go out." I did not lose courage. "The weather has changed, signora," I said, "the wind is as warm as the sirocco. It is fine weather for you to-night." She bestowed a withering glance upon me, saying: "I didn't ask you what the weather is. How long has it been your place to advise me?" The battle was on, I did not retreat. "Since you have seemed disposed to allow yourself to die," I replied vehemently. She seemed to yield to some magnetic force; for she languidly dropped her head on her hand, and in a faint voice bade me bring the gondola.
I carried her down to it. Salomé attempted to accompany her. I took it upon myself to say to her in an imperative tone that her mistress ordered her to remain with Signora Alezia. I saw the blood come and go in the signora's cheeks as I took the oar and eagerly pushed against the marble steps which seemed to flee behind us.
When I was a few rods from the palace, it seemed to me that I had conquered the world, and that my victory was assured, all inconvenient witnesses being out of the way. I rowed furiously out into the middle of the lagoons, without turning my head, without speaking a word, without stopping for breath. I had the appearance of a lover carrying off his mistress much more than of a gondolier rowing his employer. When we were quite alone, I dropped my oar and let the boat drift; but at that point all my courage abandoned me; it was impossible for me to speak to the signora, I dared not even look at her. She gave me no encouragement, and I rowed her back to the palace, mortified enough to have resumed the trade of boatman without obtaining the reward I hoped for.
Salomé showed some temper with me, and humiliated me several times, accusing me of having a surly and preoccupied air. I could never say a word to the signora without a rebuke from the maid, who always declared that I did not express myself respectfully. The signora, who usually defended me, did not even seem to notice the mortifications to which I was subjected that evening. I was incensed beyond words. For the first time I was really ashamed of my position, and I should have thought seriously of quitting it, if the irresistible magnet of desire had not kept me in bondage.
For several days I suffered tortures. The signora pitilessly allowed me to exhaust my strength rowing her about at midday, in the dry, intensely hot, autumn weather, before the eyes of the whole city, who had seen me for a long time previously seated in her gondola, at her feet, almost at her side, and who saw me now, dripping with perspiration, fallen from the sublime profession of troubadour to the laborious trade of gondolier. My love changed to wrath. Two or three times I felt a shameful temptation to treat her disrespectfully in public; then I was ashamed of myself and my dejection became the more complete.
One morning, the fancy seized her to go ashore on the Lido. The shore was deserted, the sand sparkled in the sunlight; my head was burning hot, the perspiration was running down my breast in streams. As I stooped to lift Signora Aldini, she passed her silk handkerchief over my dripping forehead, and gazed at me with a sort of loving compassion.
"Poveretto!" she said, "you are not made for the trade to which I condemn you!"
"I would go to the galleys for you," I replied hotly.
"And sacrifice your beautiful voice," she rejoined, "and the great talent you may acquire, and the noble profession of musical artist to which you may attain?"
"Everything!" I replied, dropping on my knees before her.
"You do not mean it!" she retorted, with a melancholy air. "Return to your place," she added, pointing to the bow. "I wish to rest a while here."
I returned to the bow, but I left the door of thecamerinoopen. I could see her lying on the black cushions, fair and pale, wrapped in her black cape, buried and, as it were hidden in the black velvet of that mysterious bower, which seems made for stealthy pleasures and forbidden joys. She resembled a beautiful swan which swims into a dark grotto to avoid the hunter. I felt that my reason was abandoning me; I crept to her side and fell on my knees. To give her a kiss and then die in expiation of my crime was my whole thought. Her eyes were closed, she pretended to be asleep, but she felt the fire of my breath. Then she called to me aloud, as if she believed me to be at a distance, and pretended to wake gradually, to give me time to go away. She bade me go to thebottegaon the Lido to fetch her some lemonade, then closed her eyes again. I put one foot on shore, and that was all. I stepped back into the gondola and stood still, gazing at her. She opened her eyes, and her glance seemed to draw me to her by a thousand chains of steel and diamond. I took one step toward her, she closed her eyes again; I took another step, and she opened them, assuming an expression of contemptuous surprise. I went ashore again, then returned to the gondola. This cruel game lasted several minutes. She attracted and spurned me as the hawk plays with the mortally wounded sparrow. Anger took possession of me; I slammed the door of thecamerinoso violently that the glass was shivered. She uttered a cry which I did not deign to notice, but rushed ashore, singing in a voice of thunder, which I thought reckless and devil-may-care: