UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES BROWSING ROOM THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES e tre Balzac tre $Jal?ac PHILOSOPHIC AND ANALYTIC STUDIES VOLUME IV DEATH OF ETIENNE AND GABRIELLE These words discharged into the hearts of the two children the terror with which they were laden. As Etienne sazv his father's great hand, armed with a sword, raised over Gabrielle's head, he died, and Gabrielle fell dead while trying to retain him. THE NOVELS OF HONORE DE BALZAC NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME COMPLETELY TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH GAMBARA BY THOS. H. WALLS MASSIMILLA DONI THE ACCURSED CHILD BY G. BURNHAM IVES WITH FIVE ETCHINGS BY EUGENE DECISY, AFTER PAINTINGS BY PIERRE VIDAL IN ONE VOLUME PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY GEORGE BARRIE & SON, PHILADELPHIA COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY GEORGE BARRIE & SON ,. r 5 C5 o GAMBARA 189973 TO MONSIEUR LE M4RQUIS DE BELLOY It was by the fireside, in a mysterious, splendid retreat which no longer exists, but which will live in our memory, and whence our eyes discovered Paris, from the hills of Bellevue to those of Belleville, from Montmartre to the Arc de Triomphe de 1'Etoile, on a morning bedewed with tea, and amid the thousand thoughts that arise and die out like rockets in your sparkling conversation, that you, prodigal of wit, threw under my pen that personage worthy of Hoff- man, that bearer of unknown treasures, that pilgrim seated at the gate of Paradise, having ears to listen to the songs of the angels, and having no longer a tongue to repeat them, touching ivory keys with fingers bruised by the contractions of divine inspira- tion, and believing that he was expressing the music of Heaven to a bewildered audience. You have created GAMBARA, I have only clothed him. Let me render unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar, re- gretting that you did not seize the pen at an epoch when noblemen ought to use it as well as their sword, in order to save their country. You may be forgetful of self, but you owe your talents to us. New-Year's Day of 1831 was emptying its cornu- copias of sugar-plums, four o'clock was striking, crowds were gathering in the Palais Royal, and the restaurants were rapidly filling up. A carriage at this moment drew up before the steps, a young man of proud mien alighted therefrom, evidently a for- eigner, for otherwise he would have had neither the outrider with the aristocratic plumes, nor the armorial bearings still sought after by the heroes of July. The stranger entered the Palais Royal, and fol- lowed the crowd through the galleries, without surprise at the slow progress to which he was con- demned by the concourse of the curious; he seemed accustomed to the noble gait which has been iron- ically termed "the ambassador's step;" but his dignity smacked a little of the theatre. Although his face was grave and handsome, his hat, whence escaped a cluster of black curls, inclined rather too much over the right ear, contradicting his gravity and giving to the wearer a certain sinister air. His distracted and half-closed eyes glanced disdainfully upon the crowd. " There is a very handsome young man," ex- claimed a grisette, stepping aside to allow him to pass. (5) 6 GAMBARA "And he knows it too well ! " loudly replied her companion, who was herself ugly. After a walk through the gallery, the young man looked alternately at the sky and at his watch, and, with a gesture of impatience, entered a smoking apartment, lighted a cigar, and, taking his position before a mirror, glanced at his costume, whose rich- ness exceeded rather what is permitted in France by the laws of good taste. He rearranged his collar and black velvet vest, which was traversed, in sev- eral directions, by one of those massive gold chains which are manufactured at Genoa; then, having thrown, by a single movement, his velvet-lined cloak over his left shoulder, disposing it with grace, he resumed his walk, not at all disconcerted by the bourgeois glances that he encountered. As soon as the shops began to be lighted, and the night to appear sufficiently dark, he bent his steps toward the Place du Palais Royal, like a man who feared to be recognized; for he kept by the side of the en- closure as far as the fountain, in order to reach, under shelter of the hackney-coaches, the entrance of Rue Froidmanteau, an obscure, dirty, and low thoroughfare, a sort of sewer, which the police tol- erate, near the salubrious Palais Royal, just as an Italian major-domo would allow a negligent valet to heap, in a corner of the staircase, the sweepings of the apartment. The young man hesitated, reminding one of a young bourgeoise in Sunday attire, stretching out her neck before a stream swollen by a shower. The GAMBARA 7 hour, however, was well chosen for satisfying any shameful fancy. Earlier, there was a danger of sur- prise; later, a risk of being preceded. To be invited by a glance which encourages without provocation, to have followed for an hour, perhaps for a day, a young and beautiful woman, to have divined her thoughts, and to have put a thousand favorable in- terpretations upon her frivolity, to have recovered faith in sudden and irresistible sympathy, to have imagined, beneath the fire of transient emotion, an adventure in an age in which romances are written for the sole reason that they no longer occur, to have dreamed of balconies, guitars, stratagems, bolts, and to be draped with the mantle of Almaviva, after having in his rhapsody written a poem, to stop at the door of a disreputable house; and then, for the whole denouement, to perceive in the reserve of his Rosine a precaution imposed by a police regula- tion, is it not a deception through which many men have passed who are unwilling to acknowledge it? The most natural sentiments are those which we confess with the greatest repugnance, and conceit is one of them. When the lesson ends here, the Paris- ian either profits by it or forgets it, and the evil is not serious; but it was not to be thus with the stranger, who began to fear that his Parisian educa- tion might cost him dear. This pedestrian was a noble Milanese, banished from his country, where certain liberal freaks had rendered him a suspect to the Austrian government. Comte Andrea Marcosini was received in Paris 8 GAMBARA with that welcome, truly French in eagerness, which an amiable disposition, joined to a sounding title, a handsome exterior, and two hundred thousand francs a year, is sure to command there. For such a man, exile is a pleasure-jaunt; his property was merely sequestered, and he was informed by his friends, that, after an absence of two years at most, he might safely return to his own country. Having written a dozen sonnets in which " crudeli affanni" was made to rhyme with " i miei tiranni," and, from his own purse, maintained the unfortunate Italian refugees, Comte Andrea, who had the mis- fortune to be a poet, believed himself released from his patriotic ideas. Since his arrival, then, he had given himself up without reserve to the pleasures of all kinds which Paris offers gratuitously to all who are rich enough to purchase them. His talents and beauty had gained him much success among women, whom he loved collectively, as became his age, but among whom he had not yet distinguished anyone. Moreover, that taste in him was subordinated to those for music and poetry, which he had cultivated from childhood, and in which it appeared to him more difficult and more glorious to succeed than in gal- lantry, since nature had spared him the difficulties which men love to surmount. A complex man, like so many others, he was easily seduced by the allurements of luxury, without which he could not have lived, and he adhered tena- ciously to the social distinctions which his opinions rejected. His theories of artist, thinker, poet, were GAMBARA 9 frequently in contradiction with his tastes, with his feelings, with his habits of a millionaire gentleman. But he consoled himself with respect to these ab- surdities, recognizing them in many Parisians, liberal by interest, aristocratic by nature. It .was, then, not without a strange uneasiness that he caught him- self, on December 31, 1830, on foot in the midst of a Parisian thaw, tracking the steps of a woman whose costume proclaimed profound, radical, ancient, con- firmed misery, who was not more beautiful than so many others whom he saw every evening at the Bouffons, at the Opera, in society, and certainly not so young as Madame de Manerville, with whom he had made an appointment for that very day, and who, perhaps, was still awaiting him. But there was in the glance, at once wild and tender, deep and rapid, which the black eyes of this woman stealthily darted at him, so much sorrow, and so much smoth- ered delight! She had blushed with so much fire, when, upon leaving the shop in which she had re- mained a quarter of an hour, her eyes had so luckily met those of the Milanese, who had awaited her within a few steps! Finally, there were so many buts and ifs, that the count, attacked by one of those furious temptations for which there is no name in any language, not even in that of the orgy, gave himself up to the pursuit of this woman, hunting la grisette like an old Parisian. Pursuing his way, whether following or preceding this woman, he scanned her in all the details of person and dress, in order to dislodge the absurd, insane desire which 10 GAMBARA had entrenched itself in his brain; soon he found a pleasure in this review, more ardent than that which he had tasted the preceding evening in contem- plating, beneath the waves of a perfumed bath, the irreproachable outlines of a beloved person; some- times, lowering her head, the unknown one threw upon him the side-glance of a goat tied close to the ground, and, finding herself continually pursued, she quickened her step as if she wished to escape. Yet, whenever a block of vehicles or any other accident brought Andrea near her, the nobleman perceived her lower her face beneath his glance, without any expression of vexation in her features. These sure signs of struggling emotion gave the final spur to the disordered dreams that were running away with him; and he galloped as far as Rue Froidmanteau, into which, after numerous turns, the unknown one suddenly entered, believing that she had concealed her track from the stranger, who was much surprised at her movements. It was night. Two women, tattooed with rouge, who were drinking black-currant ratafee upon the counter of a grocer, saw the young woman and called her. The unknown one stopped upon the threshold of the door, replied in a few words, affably expressed, to the cordial compliment which was addressed to her, and resumed her journey. Andrea, who followed her, saw her disappear in one of the darkest alleys of that street, whose name was unknown to him. The repulsive aspect of the house into which the heroine of his romance had just entered caused him a feeling GAMBARA 1 1 of nausea. Retreating a step to examine the locality, he found close to him a man of forbidding features, whom he asked for information. The man supported his right hand upon a knotty stick, placed his left hand upon his hip, and replied, in a single word: "Jester!" But quizzing the Italian, upon whom the light of a street-lamp fell, his countenance assumed a wheed- ling expression. "Ah! beg pardon, monsieur," he continued in an entirely changed tone, "there is also a restaurant, a sort of table-d'h6te, where the cooking is wretched, and where they put cheese in the soup. Perhaps the gentleman is looking for that cook-shop, for it's easy to see by his costume that the gentleman is an Italian; the Italians are very fond of velvet and cheese. If the gentleman wishes I should direct him to a better restaurant, I have an aunt a few steps from here, who is very partial to foreigners." Andrea raised his cloak up to his moustache, and darted out of the street, impelled by the disgust which this impure individual caused him, whose dress and gestures were in keeping with the low house into which the unknown one had just entered. He returned with delight to the thousand refinements of his apartment, and went to pass the evening with the Marquise d'Espard in order to endeavor to wash out the stain of that fancy which had ruled him so tyrannically during a part of the day. After retiring to rest, however, in the meditation of night, his day- dream returned, but clearer and more vivid than the 12 GAMBARA reality. Again the unknown one passed before him, occasionally in crossing the gutters she again re- vealed the shapely leg. Her hips quivered nervously at each of her steps. Andrea desired to speak to her again and dared not, he, Marcosini, a noble Milanese! Then he saw her entering this obscure alley, which had deprived him of her, and he reproached himself for not having followed her. "For, finally," he said to himself, "if she were avoiding me and wishing me to lose trace of her, she loves me. With women of this sort resistance is a proof of love. Had I pushed this adventure further, I should have finished, perhaps, in a feeling of dis- gust, and I should sleep quietly." The count was in the habit of analyzing his most ardent feelings, as men involuntarily do who have as much intellect as heart, and he was astonished to behold again the unknown one of Rue Froidmanteau, not in the ideal pomp of visions, but in the bareness of her afflicting realities. And yet, if his fancy had stripped this woman of the garb of misery, it would have spoiled her for him; for he wished her, he de- sired her, he loved her with her soiled stockings, with her worn shoes, with her rice-straw hat. He wished for her even in that house into which he had seen her enter. "Am I captured, then, by vice?" he asked himself in alarm. " I am not yet so far gone, I am twenty- three years of age, and have nothing of the blase old man." Even the energy of caprice, of which he felt GAMBARA 13 himself the sport, somewhat reassured him. This singular struggle, this reflection, and this love on the wing will justly surprise some persons accus- tomed to the ways of Paris; but they must observe that the Comte Andrea Marcosini was not a French- man. Brought up by two abbes, who, according to the instructions given by a devout father, seldom released him, Andrea had not fallen in love with a cousin at eleven years of age, nor had he at twelve betrayed his mother's chambermaid; he had not frequented those colleges in which the most perfect instruction is not that which the State sells. Finally, he had dwelt in Paris but a few years; he was, therefore, still accessible to those sudden and deep impres- sions against which French education and manners form so powerful a shield. In Southern countries, great passions frequently arise at a glance. A Gascon gentleman, who tempered much sensibility with much reflection, and possessed himself of a thousand little receipts against sudden apoplexies of his mind and heart, had advised the count to sur- render himself at least once a month to some magis- tral orgy, to charm away those storms of the soul which, without such precautions, sometimes burst inopportunely. Andrea remembered the advice. " Well," thought he, " I will begin to-morrow, the first of January." This explained why Comte Andrea Marcosini manoeuvred so timidly in entering Rue Froidman- teau. The elegant man embarrassed the lover; he 14 GAMBARA hesitated a long while, but, having made a last appeal to his courage, the lover walked with a sufficiently firm step to the house, which he recognized without difficulty. There he paused again. Was this woman really what he imagined? Was he not on the point of taking some false step? Then he recalled the Italian table-d'hote, and hurried to seize upon a middle course which should serve at once his desire and his reluctance. He entered for dinner, and glided into the alley, at the end of which he found, not without groping a long while, the damp and greasy steps of a staircase which a great Italian seigneur was to take for a ladder. Attracted toward the first story by a small lamp placed upon the floor, and by a strong kitchen odor, he pushed the half- open door, and saw a room brown with dirt and smoke, in which a Leonarde was trotting about busily occupied in dressing a table for about twenty persons. None of the guests had yet arrived. After a glance thrown upon the ill-lighted room, whose paper was falling in tatters, the nobleman seated himself near a stove which smoked and roared in a corner. Led by the noise that the count made in entering and laying down his cloak, the steward ap- peared promptly. Imagine a lean cook, dried-up, of tall stature, with a generously large, coarse nose, and casting around him, momentarily and with feverish anxiety, a look which was meant to express pru- dence. On beholding Andrea, whose whole attire proclaimed great ease, the Signor Giardini bowed re- spectfully. The count manifested a desire to take GAM BAR A 1 5 his meals habitually in company with some country- men, and to pay in advance for a certain number of tickets; he also gave to the conversation a famil- iar turn in order to arrive promptly at his purpose. Scarcely had he mentioned his unknown one, when the Signor Giardini made a grotesque gesture and looked upon his guest with a malicious air, allowing a smile to wander over his lips. "Basta!" cried he, " capisco! Your lordship is led here by two appetites. La Signora Gambara will not have lost her time, if she has succeeded in in- teresting a nobleman as generous as you appear to be. In a few words, I will inform you of all we know here about this poor woman, truly well worthy of pity. The husband was born, I believe, at Cremona, and arrived from Germany; he wished to introduce new music and new instruments among the Tedeschi! Isn't it a pity?" said Giardini, shrugging his shoul- ders. "// Signor Gambara, who believes himself a great composer, does not appear to me to be strong in other matters. A worthy man, moreover, and full of sense and wit, sometimes very amiable, especially when he has drunk a few glasses of wine, a rare case, owing to his profound poverty, he occupies himself night and day in composing operas and imag- inary symphonies, instead of trying to gain his living honestly. His poor wife is compelled to work for all sorts of people, even for the lowest. What would you have? She loves her husband like a father, and cherishes him like a child. Many young fel- lows have dined at my house, in order to pay their 1 6 GAMBARA addresses to madame, but not one has succeeded," said he, emphasizing the last word. "La Signora Marianna is virtuous, my dear monsieur, too virtuous for her misery. Men give nothing for nothing now- adays. Therefore the poor woman will die of grief. Do you think her husband recompenses her for this devotion? Pshaw! the gentleman does not bestow upon her even a smile, and their cooking is done at the bakehouse, for not only does this devil of a man not earn a penny, but he also spends the fruits of his wife's labor in instruments, which he shapes, lengthens, shortens, takes to pieces and puts together again until they can only produce sounds that frighten off the cats; then he is satisfied. And yet you will see in him the most amiable, the best of all men, and by no means idle, he is always at work. How shall I describe him? He is a madman, and unconscious of his condition. I have seen him, while filing and forging his instruments, eat black bread with an ap- petite which provoked me to envy, I, monsieur, who keep the best table in Paris. Yes, Your Excellency, in less than a quarter of an hour you will know what kind of man I am. I have introduced into the Italian kitchen refinements which will surprise you. Excellency, I'm a Neapolitan, that is to say, a born cook. But what good is instinct without science? Science! 1 have passed thirty years in acquiring it, and see what it has brought me to. My history is that of all men of talent. My experiments and tests have ruined three restaurants established succes- sively at Naples, Parma, and Rome. Now that I am GAMBARA 17 reduced to the necessity of making a trade of my art, I generally obey my ruling passion. I serve these poor refugees with some of my choicest stews. In this way I ruin myself. Folly, you say? I know it; but what would you? Talent runs away with me, and I cannot resist preparing a dish which pleases me. They always perceive it, the jolly fellows. They know, I swear to you, who tended the coppers and saucepans, whether I or my wife. What's the result? of sixty or more guests that I saw every day at my table, at the period when I established this miserable restaurant, I do not receive to-day more than about twenty, to whom I give credit the greater part of the time. The Piedmontese, the Savoyards, are gone; but the connoisseurs, people of taste, the true Italians, have remained. For them, do I not also make a sacrifice? I very often give them, for twenty-five sous a head, a dinner which costs me double." The conversation of Signor Giardini savored so much of the artless Neapolitan rascality, that the delighted count imagined himself once more at Gero- lamo. " Since this is the case, my dear landlord," said he, familiarly addressing the cook, "since chance and your confidence have acquainted me with the secret of your daily sacrifices, allow me to double the amount." On finishing these words, Andrea tossed upon the stove a forty-franc piece, upon which Signor Giardini religiously returned to him two francs, fifty centimes, 2 1 8 GAMBARA not without some discreet ceremonies which highly delighted him. " In a few minutes," resumed Giardini, "you will see your donnina. I will place you near the hus- band, and, if you wish to get into his good graces, talk about music; I have invited them both, poor souls! On account of the New Year, I regale my guests with a dish, in the preparation of which I believe I have surpassed myself." The voice of Signor Giardini was drowned by the noisy salutations of the guests, who came two by two, or singly, rather capriciously, according to the custom of table-d'hotes. Giardini endeavored to keep near the count, and acted as cicerone, pointing out to him his regular guests. He endeavored by his jests to provoke a smile upon the lips of a man in whom his Neapolitan instinct perceived a rich patron to be made the most of. " He," said he, " is a poor composer who would wish to pass from romance to opera and cannot. He complains of directors, of music-dealers, of every- body except himself, and, certainly, he has no enemy more cruel. You see what a florid com- plexion, what self-satisfaction, how little effort in his features, so well disposed for romance. He who accompanies him, and has the air of a match-seller, is one of the greatest musical celebrities, Gigelmi ! the greatest Italian orchestra leader known; but he is deaf, and is finishing his life, unfortunately de- prived of that which embellished it for him. Oh! here is our great Ottoboni, the most ingenuous old GAMBARA 19 man that the earth has produced, but he is sus- pected of being the most violent of those who are anxious for the regeneration of Italy. I wonder how they can banish so amiable an old man?" Here Giardini looked at the count, who, feeling himself sounded on the political side, retrenched him- self in an immobility altogether Italian. "A man obliged to cook for everybody must deny himself the right of having a political opinion, Excel- lency," said the cook, continuing. " But everyone, on beholding this worthy man, who has more the air of a sheep than of a lion, would have said what I think before the Austrian ambassador himself. Be- sides, we are in a time when liberty is no longer proscribed, and is about to recommence its round. These worthy people believe so, at least," said he, approaching the ear of the count, "and why should I contradict their hopes? for my part, I do not hate absolutism, Excellency! Every great talent is ab- solutist! Well, although full of genius, Ottoboni gives himself unheard-of trouble for the instruction of Italy, he composes little books to enlighten the minds of children and those of the masses, he intro- duces them very skilfully into Italy, he employs every means to re-establish a moral for our poor country, which prefers enjoyment to liberty, per- haps with reason." The count preserved an attitude so impassible, that the cook could discover nothing of his real political opinions. " Ottoboni," he resumed, " is a holy man, he is 20 GAMBARA very willing to help others, all the refugees love him, for, Excellency, a liberal may have virtues!" " Oh! oh!" said Giardini, " there's a journalist," pointing out a man who had the ridiculous costume that was formerly given to poets lodged in garrets, for his coat was threadbare, his boots cracked, his hat greasy, and his frock-coat in a deplorable state of decay. "Excellency, that poor man is full of talent and incorruptible! he has made a mistake as to his time, he tells the truth to everybody, no one can endure him. He renders account of the theatres in two obscure journals, although he is sufficiently well instructed to write in the leading journals. Poor man! The others are not worth the trouble of de- scribing to you, and your Excellency will guess them," said he, perceiving that on the appearance of the wife of the composer the count ceased to listen to him. Beholding Andrea, the Signora Marianna started, and her cheeks flushed deeply. "There he is," said Giardini, in a low voice, grasping the arm of the count, and pointing out a man of tall stature. " See how pale and grave he is! poor man! To-day, no doubt, his hobby-horse has not trotted to his satisfaction." The amorous preoccupation of Andrea was dis- turbed by an irresistible charm which pointed out Gambara to the attention of every true artist. The composer had attained his fortieth year; but although his broad, bald forehead was furrowed with a few parallel and shallow wrinkles, notwithstanding his GAMBARA 21 hollow temples, where a few veins tinted with blue the transparent tissue of a smooth skin, and the depth of the orbits, in which his black eyes with their broad lids and well-defined lashes were set, the lower part of his face gave him every appearance ot youth by the tranquillity of its lines and the softness of its contour. The first glance informed the observer that, in this man, passion had been repressed to the profit of intelligence, which alone had grown old in some great struggle. Andrea cast a rapid glance at Marianna, who was watching him. At sight of this beautiful Italian head, whose exact proportions and splendid coloring revealed one of those organiza- tions in which all the human forces are harmoni- ously balanced, he measured the abyss which separated these two beings united by chance. Happy in the presage which he saw in this dissimilarity between the two, he had no intention of defending himself from a sentiment which must raise a barrier between the beautiful Marianna and him. Already he felt for this man, whose sole blessing she was, a sort of respectful pity in conjecturing the misfortune borne with dignity and serenity, which the amiable and melancholy countenance of Gambara implied. After having expected to meet in this man one of those grotesque personages so often brought upon the stage by the German story-tellers, and by the poets of libretti, he found a simple and reserved man, whose manners and dress, free from all oddity, were not lacking in nobility. Without affording the least appearance of luxury, his costume was more 22 GAMBARA becoming than that which would have corresponded to his profound misery; and his linen gave evidence of the tender care which watched over the smallest details of his life. Andrea raised his humid eyes upon Marianna, who did not blush, but allowed a half-smile to escape, in which, perhaps, appeared the pride which this mute homage inspired in her. Too seriously affected not to detect the least indica- tion of complacency, the count, upon seeing himself so well understood, believed that he was loved. From that time, he was occupied in the conquest of the hus- band rather than in that of the wife, directing all his batteries against the poor Gambara, who, suspecting nothing, swallowed, without tasting them, the boc- coni of Signer Giardini. The count opened the con- versation upon a commonplace topic; but from the very first words, he held this intelligence to be affect- edly blind, perhaps, on one point, but very clear- sighted on all others, and saw that it was less a question of caressing the fancy of this malicious good- natured man, than of endeavoring to understand his ideas. His guests, hungry folk, whose spirit awoke at the sight of a meal good or bad, manifested the most hostile disposition toward Gambara, and only awaited the end of the first course to give wings to their wit. One refugee, whose frequent glances betrayed pretentious projects regarding Marianna, and who thought to take a front place in the heart of the Italian by seeking to throw ridicule upon her husband, opened fire in order to acquaint the newly- arrived guest with the customs of the table-d'h6te. GAMBARA 23 " It's a good while now since we heard anything of the opera of Mahomet," cried he, smiling upon Marianna. " Is it possible, that, entirely absorbed in domestic cares and the charms of soup and boiled meat, Paolo Gambara would neglect a superhuman talent, and allow his genius to grow cold and his imagination to lose fire?" Gambara was acquainted with the guests; he felt himself placed in a sphere so superior, that he no longer took the trouble to repel their attacks; he made no reply. " It is not given to everybody," observed the journalist, "to have sufficient intelligence to com- prehend the musical lucubrations of monsieur, and there, doubtless, lies the reason which hinders our divine maestro from appearing before the good Paris- ians." " However," said the writer of romances, who had only opened his mouth to engulf everything that was offered, " I know people of talent who set a certain value upon the judgment of the Paris- ians. 1 have some reputation in music," added he, with a modest air, " I owe it entirely to my little vaudeville airs, and to the success which my country- dances obtain in the salons; but I expect soon to have a mass performed, composed for the anniversary of the death of Beethoven, and I believe that I shall be better understood in Paris than anywhere else. Will the gentleman do me the honor of attending?" said he, addressing Andrea. " Thank you," replied the count, " I do not feel 24 GAMBARA myself endowed with the organs necessary to the appreciation of French singing, but, if you were dead, monsieur, and Beethoven had written the mass, I should not fail to go to hear it." This jest put an end to the skirmish of those who wished to draw out Gambara in the direction of his whims for the amusement of the new-comer. Andrea aleady felt some repugnance to making so noble and touching a mania a subject of entertainment for so much vulgar wisdom. He continued, without reserve, a desultory conversation, during which the nose of Giardini frequently interposed itself between ob- servations. Whenever any jocular remark in good style, or any paradoxical idea, escaped from Gam- bara, the cook put forward his head, cast a look of pity upon the musician, one of intelligence upon the count, and said in his ear: "Ematto." A moment arrived when the cook interrupted the course of his judicious observations, in order to attend to the second course, to whichuhe attached the greatest importance. During his absence, which was brief, Gambara leaned toward the ear of Andrea. "This good Giardini," he said to him, in a low voice, "has threatened us to-day with a dish of his trade which I desire you to respect, although his wife has superintended its preparation. " The worthy man has the mania of kitchen in- novation. He has ruined himself in experiments, the last of which obliged him to depart from Rome without a passport, a circumstance upon which he is silent. After having purchased a restaurant of GAMBARA 25 good reputation, he was charged with an entertain- ment given by a recently promoted cardinal, whose house was not yet furnished. Giardini thought he had found an opportunity for distinguishing him- self; he succeeded; that very evening, accused of desiring to poison the whole conclave, he was com- pelled to leave Rome and Italy without packing his trunks. This misfortune inflicted the final blow, and now " Gambara placed a finger on the middle of his fore- head, and shook his head. "Otherwise," added he, "he is a worthy man. My wife assures me we are under many obligations to him." Giardini appeared, carrying with precaution a dish, which he placed in the middle of the table, and afterward he returned modestly to take his place near Andrea, who was served first. As soon as he had tasted this dish, the count found an im- passable interval between the first and second mouth- ful. Great was his embarrassment. He was ex- tremely anxious not to displease the cook, who was observing him attentively. If the French restaura- teur cares little about seeing a dish despised whose payment is assured, we must not suppose that it is the same with an Italian restaurateur, with whom, frequently, no praise given is sufficient. To gain time, Andrea complimented Giardini warmly, but he leaned toward the ear of the cook, passed a gold piece to him under the table, and requested him to go and purchase some bottles of champagne, giving 26 GAMBARA him the liberty of ascribing all the honor of this liberality to himself. When the cook returned, all the plates were empty, and the apartment resounded with the praises of the steward. The champagne soon ex- cited the heads of the Italians, and the conversation, until then restrained by the presence of a stranger, leaped over the bounds of a suspicious reserve, to spread itself here and there over the immense fields of political and artistic theories. Andrea, who knew of no other intoxications than those of love and poetry, soon rendered himself master of the general attention, and skilfully guided the discussion on the domain of musical questions. "Be kind enough to inform me, sir," said he to the writer of country-dances, " how the Napoleon of little airs humbles himself to dethrone Palestrina, Pergolesi, Mozart, poor folk who pack up, bag and baggage, at the approach of this thunderbolt of a death-mass." "Sir," answered the composer, "a musician is always embarrassed in answering, when his an- swer requires the co-operation of a hundred skilful performers. Mozart, Hadyn, and Beethoven, with- out an orchestra, amount to little." "To little?" replied the count, "but everybody knows that the immortal author of Don Juan and the Requiem is named Mozart, and I have the mis- fortune not to know the name of the prolific writer of country-dances, which are so much in demand in the salons." GAMBARA 27 "Music exists independently of execution," said the orchestra leader, who, notwithstanding his deaf- ness, had caught some words of the discussion. " In opening Beethoven's symphony in C minor, a mu- sical man is soon translated into the world of Fancy upon the golden wings of the theme in G natu- ral, repeated in E by the horns. He sees a whole nature by turns illuminated by dazzling sheafs of light, shadowed by clouds of melancholy, cheered by divine song." " Beethoven is surpassed by the new school," said the writer of romances, disdainfully. " He is not yet understood," answered the count, " how can he be surpassed?" Here Gambara drank a large glass of champagne, and accompanied his libation with a half-approving smile. " Beethoven," resumed the count, " has extended the boundaries of instrumental music, and no one has followed him in his flight." Gambara dissented by a movement of the head. " His works are especially remarkable for the simplicity of the plan, and for the manner in which this plan is followed out," rejoined the count. "With the majority of composers, the orchestral parts, wild and disorderly, combine only for mo- mentary effect, they do not always co-operate by the regularity of their progress to the effect of the piece as a whole. With Beethoven, the effects are, so to speak, distributed in advance. Like the dif- ferent regiments which, by regular movements in a 28 GAMBARA battle, contribute to the victory, the orchestral parts of the symphonies of Beethoven follow the orders given in the general interest, and are subordinated to plans admirably well conceived. There is equality, in this respect, with a genius of another order. In the magnificent historical compositions of Walter Scott, the individual furthest removed from the action comes, at a given moment, by threads woven in the web of the intrigue, to attach himself to the denouement." "Evero!" said Gambara, in whom good sense seemed to return in inverse ratio to his sobriety. Wishing to push the proof still further, Andrea forgot for a moment all his sympathies, he began to attack in the breach the European reputation of Rossini, and to bring that suit against the Italian School which it has won every evening for thirty years in more than a hundred theatres of Europe. Assuredly, he had much to do. The first words he pronounced raised around him a low murmur of dis- approval. But neither the frequent interruptions, nor the exclamations, nor the frowns, nor the looks of pity, had any influence upon the enthusiastic admirer of Beethoven. " Compare," said he, "the sublime productions of the author of whom I have just been speaking with what is called by common consent Italian music: what inertia of thought! what tameness of style! Those uniform turns, those commonplace cadences, those eternal flourishes thrown in at haz- ard without regard to the situation, that monotonous GAMBARA 2Q crescendo that Rossini has brought into vogue, and which is to-day an integral part of all composition; finally, those nightingale voluntaries form a sort of musical chitchat, gossipy, perfumed, whose only merit lies in the facility of the singer and the agil- ity of the vocalization. The Italian School has lost sight of the high mission of art. Instead of elevating the multitude to itself, it has descended to the multi- tude; it has won popularity merely by accepting the votes of all hands, appealing to the intelligence of the vulgar, who are in the majority. Its popularity is a juggler's trick of the cross-roads. Finally, the compositions of Rossini, in whom this music is per- sonified, together with those of the masters who pro- ceed more or less from him, appear worthy at most to collect a crowd in the streets around a barrel- organ, and to accompany the capers of Punch and Judy. I prefer the French music, and that is saying everything. Long live the German music! when it can sing," he added in a low voice. This attack was the summing up of a long argu- ment in which Andrea had sustained himself for more than a quarter of an hour in the highest regions of metaphysics with the ease of a somnambulist who walks upon the roofs. Deeply interested in these subtleties, Gambara had not lost a word of the whole discussion; he continued the conversation as soon as Andrea appeared to have abandoned it, and then a movement of attention took place among all the guests, of whom several were disposed to leave the place. 30 GAMBARA "You attack, with great vigor, the Italian School," resumed Gambara, much animated with the cham- pagne, "which, moreover, is to myself rather indifferent. Thank God, I am outside of those poverties more or less melodic! But a man of the world shows little gratitude toward that classic land whence Germany and France derived their first lessons. While the compositions of Carissimi, Ca- valli, Scarlatti, Rossi, were being performed through- out Italy, the violinists of the Paris opera had the singular privilege of playing the violin with gloves. Lulli, who extended the empire of harmony, and was the first to class the discords, found, upon his arrival in France, but one cook and a mason who had voices and intelligence sufficient to execute his music. He made a tenor of the first, and metamorphosed the second into a bass. At that time, Germany, with the exception of Sebastian Bach, was ignorant of music. But, sir," said Gambara in the humble tone of a man who fears to see his words received with disdain or ill-will, "although young, you have studied, for a long time, these high questions of art, without which you would not expound them with so much clearness." This remark made some of the audience smile, who had understood nothing of the distinctions established by Andrea. Giardini, persuaded that the count had uttered only unimportant phrases, pushed him slightly, laughing in his sleeve at a mys- tification in which he was fain to believe himself an accomplice. GAMBARA 31 " There are, in what you have just said to us, many things which appear to me very sensible," said Gambara, continuing; "but be careful ! Your plea, in withering the Italian sensualism, appears to me to incline toward the German idealism, which is an equally fatal heresy. If men of imagination and sense, such as you, only desert one camp to pass to the other; if they cannot remain neutral between the two excesses, we shall eternally suffer the irony of those sophists who deny progress, and compare the genius of man to that cloth which, too short to cover entirely the table of Signor Giardini, only fur- nishes one extremity at the expense of the other." Giardini bounded upon his chair, as if he had been stung by a horsefly, but a sudden reflection restored him to his amphitryonic dignity; he raised his eyes to Heaven, and again pushed the count, who began to think his host was madder than Gambara. This grave and religious manner of speaking of art inter- ested the Milanese in the highest degree. Placed between these two insanities, of which one was so noble and the other so vulgar, who mutually scoffed at each other to the great amusement of the com- pany, there was a moment when the count saw himself tossed about between the sublime and the ridiculous, those two farces of all human creation. Breaking, then, the chain of the incredible transi- tions which had brought him to this smoky hole, he believed himself the sport of some strange hallucina- tion, and no longer regarded Giardini and Gambara but as two abstractions. 32 GAMBARA Meanwhile, at a final sally of buffoonery by the orchestra leader, who replied to Gambara, the guests had retired amid roars of laughter. Giardini left to prepare the coffee, which he wished to offer to the elite of his guests. His wife cleared the table. The count, seated near the stove, between Marianna and Gambara, was precisely in the situation which the infatuated one found so desirable: he had the sen- sualism on his left, and the idealism on his right. Gambara, meeting for the first time a man who did not laugh in his face, lost no time in departing from generalities in order to speak of himself, of his life, of his works, and of the musical regeneration of which he believed himself the Messiah. " Listen, you who have not insulted me so far! I wish to relate to you my life, not to parade a con- stancy which does not come from myself, but for the greater glory of him who has put his strength in me. You appear good and pious; if you do not believe in me, at least you will pity me: pity is of man, faith comes from God." Andrea, blushing, withdrew beneath his chair a foot which grazed that of the beautiful Marianna, and concentrated his attention upon her, while listen- ing to Gambara. " I was born at Cremona, of a manufacturer of instruments, a pretty good performer, but stronger as a composer," resumed the musician. " I was able, therefore, at an early age, to acquire the laws of musical construction, in its double expression, ma- terial and spiritual, and as an inquisitive child, to make remarks which, later, have been represented in the spirit of the matured man. The French drove us away, my father and myself, from our home. We were ruined by the war. From the age of ten years, 1 began the wandering life to which nearly all men have been condemned who revolved in their mind innovations in art, science, or politics. Fate, or the dispositions of their minds, which do not agree with the compartments in which bourgeois minds are con- tained, impel them providentially to the points upon which they must receive their instruction. Incited by my passion for music, I went from theatre to the- atre throughout Italy, living upon little, as people live there. Sometimes I took the bass in an orches- tra; at other times, I found myself upon the stage in the choruses, or under the stage with the machinists. Thus 1 studied music in all its effects, interrogating the instrument and the human voice, asking myself in what they differ, in what they agree, listening to the scores and applying the laws which my father had taught me. At times, I travelled, repairing 3 (33) 34 GAMBARA instruments. It was a life without bread in a coun- try where the sun always shines, where art is everywhere, but where there has been no money anywhere for the artist since Rome has been only in name the queen of the Christian world. Sometimes heartily welcomed, sometimes driven away for my poverty, I did not lose courage; I listened to the voice within, which proclaimed to me glory! Music appeared to me to be in its infancy. This opinion I have retained. " All that remains to us of the musical world prior to the seventeenth century has proved to me that the ancient authors were acquainted with melody only; they were ignorant of harmony and of its immense resources. Music is at once a science and an art. The roots which it has in physics and mathematics make it a science; it becomes an art by inspiration, which employs unconsciously the theo- rems of science. It holds to physics by the very essence of the substance which it employs: sound is modified air; air is composed of principles which, without doubt, discover in us analogous principles which correspond to them, sympathize with them, and expand by the power of thought. Thus the air must contain as many particles of different elastici- ties, and capable of as many vibrations of different lengths as there are tones in the sonorous bodies, and these particles perceived by our ear, set in motion by the musician, correspond to ideas accord- ing to our organizations. In my opinion, the nature of sound is identical with that of light. Sound is GAMBARA 35 light under another form: both proceed by vibrations which terminate in man and which he transforms into thoughts in his nervous centres. Music, like painting, makes use of bodies which possess the power of separating such or such a property from the mother-substance in order to compose pictures of it. In music, the instruments perform the office of the colors which the painter employs. Since every sound produced by a sonorous body is always accom- panied by its major third and its fifth, and affects particles of dust placed upon a stretched parchment, so as to trace upon it figures of geometrical construc- tion, always the same, according to the different volumes of sound, regular when a harmony is pro- duced, and without precise forms in the case of a discord, I say that music is an art woven in the very bowels of Nature. Music obeys physical and mathe- matical laws. The physical laws are little known, the mathematical laws are better known; and since their relations began to be studied, harmony has been created to which we owe Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Rossini, fine geniuses, who have certainly produced music superior to that of their predecessors, whose genius, moreover, is incontest- able. The old masters sang instead of arrang- ing art and science, a noble alliance which allows us to melt into one all the beautiful melodies and powerful harmony. Now, if the discovery of the mathematical laws has produced these four great musicians, where might we not arrive if we found the physical laws in virtue of which understand 36 GAMBARA this well we collect in greater or less quantity, according to the proportions to be sought, a certain ethereal substance diffused in the air, and which gives us music as well as light, the phenomena of vegetation as well as those of zoology. Do you understand? These new laws would arm the com- poser with new powers in offering him instruments superior to present instruments and, perhaps, a har- mony which, compared with that which now governs music, would be truly grand. " If every modified sound answers to a power, we must know that power, in order to unite all these forces according to their true laws. Composers work in substances which are unknown to them. Why have the instrument of metal and the instrument of wood, the bassoon and the horn, so little resem- blance, though employing the same substances, the constituent gases of the air? Their dissimilarity proceeds from some decomposition of these gases or from an apprehension of principles peculiar to them, and which they return modified, in virtue of un- known powers. If we knew these powers, science and art would gain. What extends science, extends art. Well, I have scented out these discoveries, I have made them." "Yes," remarked Gambara, becoming animated, " hitherto man has rather observed the effects than the causes. If he penetrated the causes, music would become the greatest of all the arts. Is it not the one that penetrates deepest into the soul? You see only what the picture shows you, you hear only GAMBARA 37 what the poet says to you; music goes far beyond: does it not shape your thought? does it not arouse the torpid memory? Take a thousand souls in a hall: a motive bursts forth from the throat of Pasta, whose execution responds happily to the thoughts which burned in the soul of Rossini when he wrote the air; Rossini's phrase transmitted into those souls develops as many different poems; to this one ap- pears a woman long dreamed of ; to that one, I know not what bank along which he has strolled, and whose trailing willows, clear wave, and the hopes that danced beneath the leafy bowers appear to him; this woman recalls the thousand feelings that tortured her during an hour of jealousy; another thinks of the unsatisfied desires of her heart, and paints with the rich colors of the dream an ideal being to whom she surrenders herself, experiencing the delight of the woman caressing her chimera in the Roman mosaic; another imagines that she will realize some desire that very evening, and plunges in advance into the torrent of pleasures, receiving the buoyant waves upon her burning breast. Music alone has the power of restoring us to ourselves; while other arts give us defined pleasures. But I am going astray. Such were my first ideas, very vague, for an inventor at first gets but a glimpse of a sort of Aurora. I carried, therefore, these glorious ideas at the bottom of my wallet, they enabled me to eat cheerfully the dry crust which I often dipped in the water of the fountains; I worked, I composed airs, and, after having executed them upon any 38 GAMBARA sort of instrument, I resumed my travels through Italy. " Finally, at the age of twenty-two, I came to live in Venice, where, for the first time, 1 tasted tranquillity, and found myself in a supportable condition. There I made the acquaintance of an old Venetian nobleman, who was pleased with my ideas, who encouraged me in my researches, and procured me employment in the theatre of Venice. Living was cheap, lodg- ing cost little. 1 occupied rooms in that palace Ca- pello whence the famous Bianca stepped forth one evening, who became grand duchess of Tuscany. I imagined that my unknown glory would also go forth thence some day to be crowned. I passed the even- ings at the theatre, and the days at work. I met with a disaster. The performance of an opera, in whose score I had tried my music, failed. They understood nothing of my music of the Martyrs. Give Beethoven to the Italians, they are lost. No one had the patience to await an effect prepared by different themes assigned to each instrument, which were to rally together in a grand whole. I had founded some hopes on the opera of the Martyrs, for we always discount success, we lovers of the blue goddess, Hope! When we believe ourselves des- tined to produce great things, it is difficult not to have a presentiment of them: the bushel always has chinks through which the light passes. " In this house lived the family of my wife, and the hope of obtaining the hand of Marianna, who often smiled upon me from her window, had contributed GAMBARA 39 much to my efforts. I fell into a dark melancholy, measuring the depth of the abyss into which I had fallen, for I saw clearly a life of misery, a constant struggle, in which love must perish. Marianna, like genius, with feet together, leaped over all diffi- culties. I will not tell you the little happiness which gilded the beginning of my misfortunes. Terrified by my fall, I judged that Italy, with a paucity of comprehension, and lulled by constantly expressed, routine phrases, was not disposed to receive the in- novations which I meditated; therefore I thought of Germany. Travelling into this country, I passed through Hungary, I listened to the thousand voices of nature, and I strove to reproduce those sublime harmonies with the aid of instruments which I con- structed or modified for this purpose. These experi- ments were attended with enormous expense, which soon absorbed our savings. That was, however, our happiest time: I was appreciated in Germany. I know nothing in my life greater than this period. I cannot compare anything to the tumultuous sensa- tions which attacked me when near Marianna, whose beauty then was clothed with celestial splendor and power. Must I say it? I was happy. " During those hours of weakness, more than once I addressed to my passion the language of terrestrial harmony. I happened to compose some of those melodies which resemble geometric figures, and are much prized in the society in which you live. I no sooner met with success than I encountered invin- cible obstacles multiplied by my compeers, all filled 40 GAMBARA with treachery or folly. I had heard France spoken of as a country where innovations were favorably received. I desired to go there; my wife found some means, and we arrived in Paris. Till then they had not laughed in my face. But, in this dreadful city, I was obliged to endure this new kind of torture to which misery soon added its poignant anguish. Reduced to lodging in this infected neigh- borhood, we have lived for several months on Mari- anna's work alone, who has plied her needle in the service of the unfortunate women who make this street their customary walk. Marianna declares that, among these poor women, she has met with respect and generosity, which I attribute to the ascendency of virtue so pure that vice itself is constrained to respect it." "Hope!" said Andrea. "Perhaps you have ar- rived at the termination of your trials. Until my efforts, joined to your own, have brought your works to light, allow a fellow-countryman, an artist like yourself, to offer you some advance upon the infal- lible success of your score." "All that enters into the conditions of material life belongs to the province of my wife," replied Gambara, "She will decide what we can accept without blushing from so gallant a man as you appear to be. As for me, who have not permitted myself for -a long time to enter into such prolonged confidences, I ask your permission to leave you. I see a melody that invites me, it passes and dances before me, naked and shivering, like a beautiful girl GAMBARA 41 who demands of her lover the clothes which he keeps concealed. Adieu! I must go and dress a mistress, I leave to you my wife." He made his escape, like a man who reproached himself for having lost valuable time, and Marianna, embarrassed, wished to follow him ; Andrea dared not detain her; Giardini came to the succor of both. "You have heard, signorina," said he. "Your husband has left you more than one affair to regu- late with the seigneur comte." Marianna sat down again, but without raising her eyes to Andrea, who hesitated to speak to her. "Will not the confidence of Signer Gambara," said Andrea in a broken voice, "ensure me that of his wife? Will the beautiful Marianna refuse to make me acquainted with the history of her life?" " My life," replied Marianna, " my life is that of the ivy. If you would learn the history of my heart, you must believe me to be as exempt from pride as devoid of modesty to ask of me its recital after what you have just heard." "And of whom shall I ask it?" cried the count, with whom passion was already extinguishing un- derstanding. " Of yourself," answered Marianna. " Either you have already understood me or you will never under- stand me. Try to question yourself." " I consent, but you will listen to me. This hand which I have taken, you will leave in mine so long as my recital shall be faithful." "I am listening," said Marianna. 42 GAMBARA " The life of a woman begins with her first pas- sion," said Andrea. "My dear Marianna began to live only on the day she, for the first time, saw Paolo Gambara; to enjoy a deep passion was to her a necessity, but especially to have some interesting weakness to protect, to support. The fine womanly organization with which she is endowed calls, per- haps, still less for love than for maternity. You sigh, Marianna? I have touched one of the living wounds of your heart. It is a fine part for you to take, so young, that of protectress of a fine intel- ligence gone astray. You said to yourself: ' Paolo will be my genius, I shall be his reason; we two shall make that being, almost divine, which is called an angel, that sublime creature that enjoys and compre- hends without Wisdom's stifling love.' Then, in the first fervor of youth, you heard those thousand voices of nature that the poet wished to reproduce. Enthu- siasm seized you when Paolo spread out before you those treasures of poetry, seeking the formula in the sublime but limited language of music, and you ad- mired him while a delirious exaltation carried him far from you, for you were fain to believe that all that wandering energy would be finally restored to love. You were ignorant of the tyrannical and jealous em- pire which thought exercises over the brains which become enamored of her. Gambara had given him- self up, before becoming acquainted with you, to the proud and vindictive mistress with whom you have in vain disputed for him up to this day. A single moment you had a glimpse of happiness. GAMBARA 43 "Fallen from the heights to which his spirit inces- santly soared, Paolo was astonished to find the reality so sweet; you might well have thought that his folly would fall asleep in the arms of love. But music soon recovered her prey. The dazzling mirage, which had suddenly transported you to the midst of the delights of a mutual passion, rendered the solitary path in which you were engaged more arid and gloomy. In the story which your husband has just given us, as in the striking contrast between your features and his, I have caught a glimpse of the secret anguish of your life, the sorrowful mysteries of this ill-assorted union in which you have assumed the lot of suffering. If your conduct was always heroic, if your energy failed not once in the exercise of your painful duties, perhaps, in the silence of your solitary nights, that heart whose beating at this moment swells your breast murmured more than once. Your most cruel torture was the very greatness of your husband : less noble, less pure, you might have been able to abandon him; but his virtues sustained yours; between your heroism and his you asked your- self who would give way the last. You were pur- suing the real greatness of your task, as Paolo was pursuing his chimera. If the love of duty alone could have sustained and guided you, perhaps the triumph might have seemed easier; it might have been sufficient to kill your heart and to transport your life into the world of abstractions, religion would have absorbed the rest, and you would have lived in an idea, like the holy women who extinguish 44 GAMBARA at the foot of the altar the instincts of nature. But the charm that overspread the whole person of your Paul, the elevation of his mind, the rare and touch- ing evidences of his tenderness, drove you con- stantly out of this ideal world, where virtue wished to retain you; they restored your strength ceaselessly exhausted in struggling against the phantom of love. You doubted not as yet! the slightest gleams of hope carried you away in pursuit of your sweet chimera. Finally, the deceptions of so many years have ex- hausted your patience; an angel's might long since have failed. To-day, this appearance so long pur- sued is a shadow, not a substance. A madness which touches genius so closely must be incurable in this world. Struck with this thought, you have reflected upon your whole youth, if not lost, at least sacrificed; you have recognized with bitterness the error of nature, which gave you a father when you called for a husband. You wondered whether you had not exceeded the duties of the wife in devoting yourself entirely to this man who reserved himself for science. Marianna, let me retain your hand, all that I have said is true. And you have cast your eyes around you; but you were then in Paris, and not in Italy, where they know well how to love " "Oh! let me finish this recital," cried Marianna; " I would rather say these things myself. I will be frank. I feel now that I am speaking to my best friend. Yes, I was in Paris when everything passed within me which you have just explained so clearly; but when I saw you, I was saved; for nowhere had GAMBARA 45 I met with the love dreamed of from my childhood. My costume and my dwelling withdrew me from the observation of men like yourself. Some young men, whom their situation did not permit to insult me, became still more odious to me by the levity with which they treated me. Some scoffed at my husband as a ridiculous old man, others basely sought to win his favor in order to betray him; all spoke of my separating from him. No one under- stood the worship which I had paid to that soul, which js only so far from us because it is so near to heaven, to that friend, to that brother whom I wish always to serve. You alone have understood the tie which binds me to him, is it not so? Tell me that you take a sincere interest in my Paul, and without any ulterior motive " "I accept this praise," interrupted Andrea; "but do not go further, do not compel me to contradict you. I love you, Marianna, as they love in that beautiful country where we were both born; I love you with all my soul and all my strength; but be- fore offering you this love, I wish to render myself worthy of yours. I will try a last effort to restore to you the man whom you have loved since child- hood, the man whom you will always love. Await- ing success or defeat, accept without blushing the assistance that I wish to give you both; to-morrow we will go together and choose a lodging for him. Do you esteem me sufficiently to associate me in the functions of your guardianship?" Marianna, astonished at this generosity, extended 46 GAMBARA her hand to the count, who left, trying to escape the civilities of Signor Giardini and his wife. The following day, the count was introduced by Giardini into the apartment of the married couple. Although the lofty mind of her lover was already known to her, for there are certain souls that promptly interpenetrate, Marianna was too good a housewife not to betray the embarrassment she felt in receiving so great a lord in so poor a room. Everything there was very clean. She had spent the whole morning in dusting its strange furniture, the work of Signor Giardini, who had constructed it in his leisure moments with the remains of instru- ments rejected by Gambara. Andrea had never seen anything so extravagant. In order to maintain a be- coming gravity, he ceased to observe a grotesque bed contrived by the malicious cook in the case of an old harpsichord, and turned his eyes to the bed of Marianna, a narrow little couch whose only mat- tress was covered with white muslin, a sight which inspired him with thoughts at once sad and sweet. He desired to speak of his projects and employment of the morning, but the enthusiastic Gambara, be- lieving that he had at last met with a benevolent listener, took possession of the count and compelled him to listen to the opera which he had written for Paris. "And first, monsieur," said Gambara,