Rule of the Monk; Or, Rome in the Nineteenth Century by Giuseppe Garibaldi

  CHAPTER LVI. PRINCE T------.

  In the shameful times when the right of the "coscia" existed, princeshad little necessity to woo a humble maiden, or to sue for her favor. Atthe present day things have assumed a different aspect. Although princesexist who possess as much pride of birth, or even more, than thoseof old days, still we see many obliged to conform to more moderatepretensions in matters of the heart, aspiring humbly to the favor of aplebeian divinity. Such were the thoughts of poor Prince T-.

  He stood in the vestibule of the Zecchini Palace, admiring the throng ofgraceful visitors. In the crowded saloons it was difficult to do justiceto the faces, and still less to the deportment of the ladies. Fromthat part of the vestibule, on the first step, where the Roman princehad established himself, observation was easier.

  Suddenly, from the midst of the crowd emerged, as if by destiny, oneof those forms which, once seen, are reflected in the soul forever.Golden-brown eyes, hair, and eyelashes adorned a face which would haveserved Titian as a model of beauty--in a word, he saw the type of theVenetian ideal. The Prince, until then immovable in the crowd hurryingto and fro, was struck by a glance of those wonderful eyes, which seemedto look at every thing and every body, without for a moment fixing theirglance on any.

  As if under a spell, the Prince rushed after the footsteps of theunknown lady, whose light foot seemed to float over the ground. Hehurried on after her, but the wish to overtake her was one thing, thecapability another. The beautiful and graceful girl, either more activeor more accustomed to fashionable throngs in Venice, was already seatedin a gondola, and had ordered the gondolier to put off when the Princereached the edge of the canal.

  What could he do? throw himself into the water, and seize on the gunwaleof the lady's boat, like a madman, begging a word for pity's sake? Thiswas his first impulse; yet a bath in the waters of the lagoon in Marchwould be no joke, while to present himself before the lady of histhoughts in the condition which would result from immersion, would beunpropitious, and an especial trial to the dignity of a man of rank. Hedecided on taking a more rational course, that of embarking in agondola and following the incognita. "Row hard," said the Prince to thegondolier, "and if you overtake that black gondola I will reward youwell."

  Having pointed out the boat to be pursued, the gondolier cried "Avanti"to his companion at the prow, and turning up his red shirt sleeves (redshirts being the prevailing fashion just then among the Venetian rowers,in honor of the guest of the day), the gondolier prepared to use the oarwith that grace and vigor which is not to be rivalled by any boatmen inthe world.

  "Onward! onward! _gondola mio!_ onward and overtake that too swift boatwhich bears away my life; and why should not that lovely girl be such tome, the Adriatic beauty of which I have dreamed a thousand times, whenVenice was enslaved as my poor Rome still is? Yet why did I only catch aglimpse of her? Why did her dazzling eye thus meet mine, subdue me ina moment, and make me hers forever, only to disappear? and has not hermagic glance wounded others as well as me? The very atmosphere aroundher intoxicated me; must it not have affected all near her? _Ah, Dio!_is this love at last? Is this that transient passion which men enjoy asthey bite at doubtful fruits and throw them away when tasted? or isit that spiritual love which brings the creature near to God, whichtransforms the miseries of life, its dangers, death itself, intoineffable happiness? Yes! it is that; and now, come ye powerful of theearth, dare but to touch my mistress whom I love with indescribablepassion, approach her with an army of ruffians at your back, profanebut the hem of her gown, and my sword shall defy all for her sweet sake.Onward! onward!" cried the Prince, interrupting his own soliloquy. "Rowhard, and if one crown be not enough, you shall have ten. Onward!"

  "But suppose she were a plebeian? Well! in the name of heaven what isa plebeian? When God created man did he make patricians and plebeians?Does not the power that awes the vulgar come from tyrants and despots?"

  "Ah! if that beautiful young creature should prove an impure, a namelessone!"

  "Oh, blasphemer of love, cease your profanity! How could a guiltywoman's face show such pure transcendent loveliness!"

  Annita _was_ a plebeian. The entrance to her dwelling showed that.There stood no columned porch where the gondola drew up before a simpledoor-step. The plain little staircase was bare; no rich vases withexotic flowers stood about the threshold. A few flower-pots adorned thewindow-sills, for Annita loved flowers as well as a princess could lovethem, but hers were little, simple blossoms--I will not say poor ones,for they were dear to the young girl, a very treasure to her.

  An aged lady, who by day would have attracted the attention of everyone--so great was the anxiety depicted on her face--had awaiteduntil that moment, eleven at night, her beloved Annita, who, with thecuriosity of a child, had desired, like others, to have a close view ofthe man of the people. Mario, her only brother, being absent, the motherhad confided her to the care of the family gondolier.

  When Monna Rosa had ascertained that the newly arrived gondola was thatwhich she expected, she left the balcony, where she had been watchingwith great misgivings for its arrival, and rapidly descended the stairs,lantern in hand, to receive her beloved child. The two women wereclasped in each other's arms, as if after a long separation, whenthe Prince arrived, and taking advantage of the open door, and of theevident attention of the mother and daughter, he entered the housewith the audacity of a soldier on a conquered territory. At length,disengaged from each other's arms, the mother was exclaiming in atone of gentle reproach, "Why so late, Annita?" when both started onperceiving the presence of a stranger.

  Having entered on a bold adventure, the Prince felt that he must carryit through with spirit. He therefore advanced towards the young girl,who, when so near, seemed more beautiful than ever.

  He was about to try to find words to excuse his impetuous andirrepressible admiration, when at that moment an iron grasp from behindseized his wrist, and with a shake that made him stagger, separated himfrom the women.

  From a third gondola, which had arrived a short time after the twofirst, there had sprung out swiftly and resolutely a new and youthfulactor on this interesting scene. Tall in stature, vigorous and handsomein person, the last arrival wore the red shirt, and on the left side ofhis broad breast bore that distinctive mark of the brave, "The Medal ofthe Thousand."

  Morosini was Annitas lover. An attentive observer would have read in theyoung girl's face a world of affectionate emotion at the sight ofher beloved, succeeded by an expression of affright, when his manly,sonorous voice, addressed the Prince, "You are mistaken, sir! You willnot find here the game you seek; retrace your steps, and make yoursearch elsewhere."

  The shaking he had received, and the rough words that followed, hadaroused the Prince's ire, and as he was not wanting in courage, heanswered his interlocutor in the same tone.

  "Insolent rascal! I came not here to affront, but to offer respectfulhomage. As for your impertinence, if you are a man of Rome, you willgive me satisfaction. Here is my card. I shall be found at the VictoriaHotel, and at your service, until mid-day to-morrow."

  "I will not keep you waiting," was Morosini's reply, and with this thedisconcerted Prince flung away.