Valperga (14 page)

"To horse then, my dear Arrigo. Does she consent to receive
me?"

"Yes, she desires to see you; and with the most ingenuous
sweetness, she bade me tell you the pleasure it would give her, to
renew her acquaintance with one whom she has not forgotten during a
long separation."

"THIS is a well known road to me," thought Castruccio,
as he rode across the plain of Lucca towards the hills of the
Baths; "there is still that mountain, that as a craggy and
mighty wall surmounts and bounds the other Apennines; the lower
peaks are still congregated round it, attracting and arresting the
clouds that pause on their summits, and then slowly roll off. What
a splendid garb of snow these old mountains have thrown over
themselves, to shield them from the tramontano, that buffets them
all the winter long, while their black sides appear almost as the
shadows of a marble statue. Looking at these hills, it seems to me
as if I had suddenly a recollection of a previous existence, such a
crowd of ideas rush upon me, the birth of my early years, long
dead, now revived. There on that hill stands the old sheep-cot, in
which I once took refuge during a storm; there is the castle of the
Fondi, near which grow the largest ilexes of these hills; and in
that recess of the mountain is the holy spring, near which on
summer mornings Euthanasia and I have often gathered flowers, and
placed leaves for boats, seeing them swallowed up and again cast
forth in the whirl of that strange pool; I wonder if that tall
cypress still throws its shade upon the water; methinks it would
well please me, to sit as of yore, Euthanasia by my side, on its
moss-covered roots."

Castruccio's heart was much softened, as he successively
recognized objects, which he had forgotten for so many years, and
with which he had been most intimately acquainted. The peculiar
form of the branches of a tree, the winding of an often-trod
mountain-path, the murmurs of small streams, their banks bedecked
with dwarf shrubs; things which would have appeared uncharacterized
to one who viewed them for the first time; bore for him some
distinguishing mark, some peculiar shape, which awoke within him
memories that had been long laid asleep.

The road that led from Lucca to Valperga struck directly across
the plain to the foot of the rock on which the castle was built.
This rock overhung the road, casting a deep shade; and projected,
forming a precipice on three sides; the northern side, at the foot
of which the Secchio flowed, was disjoined from the mountain by a
ravine, and a torrent struggled in the depth, among loose stones,
and the gnarled and naked roots of trees that shaded the side of
the cleft. Castruccio began to ascend the path which led to the
portal of the castle, that was cut in the precipitous side of this
recess, and was bordered by hedges of stunted myrtles overtopped by
chestnut trees; the foliage of these had fallen; and their spoils,
yellow, and brown, and red, were strewed on the shining leaves of
the myrtle underwood. The path was steep, serpentine and narrow; so
that Castruccio, who now looked on nature with a soldier's eye,
remarked what an excellent defence Valperga might make, if that
were the only access to it: the torrent roared below, keeping the
air for ever awake; for that commoner babbles more and louder among
huge mountains, and solitudes which may never be still, than among
the haunts of men; but all sounds are melodious there; none harsh
and obtrusive.

At the summit of the path was a drawbridge that connected it
with the almost isolated platform of rock on which the castle
stood:--the building nearly covered this space, leaving room only
for a small plot of ground, which overlooked the plain, and was
guarded by a barbican; and on which a few trees, dark ilexes, and
light acacias, mingled their contrasted foliage. Behind the castle
the mountain rose, barren and nearly perpendicular; and, when you
looked up, the dark and weather--stained precipice towered above,
while the blue sky seemed to rest upon it. The castle itself was a
large and picturesque building, turreted, and gracefully shaded by
trees. Castruccio entered the gate on the side of the drawbridge,
and passed between the main building and the barbican which guarded
the pass; so coming round to the front of the castle, which opened
on the grassy plot; here he was met by several servants, and
conducted to the apartment of Euthanasia. The counts of Valperga
had been rich; and the castle was more magnificent than those rocky
strong holds usually were. The great banqueting hall was painted
with various figures, which, though rude, and defective in shade
and perspective, were regarded with admiration in those days. A
large fireplace, now illumined by a blazing fire, gave an air of
cheerfulness to the hall; several serving-men, and two large and
beautiful dogs, were cowering round the fire, as a cold January
blast rushed through the opposite door, through which Castruccio
passed into an inner, open court of the castle.

This court was surrounded by gothic cloisters on all sides
except one, where the huge mountain formed the barrier: high, near
the summit of the rock, grew a few cypresses; and, as you gazed
upwards at them, they seemed to pierce the sky with their dark and
motionless spires. On one side of this court was a handsome
staircase built of the marble of Carrara, and by this he ascended
into the audience chamber. It was then, being winter, hung with
scarlet cloth; the ceiling was painted; and the bright marble
pavement reflected in dim colours the Venus and her Cupids depicted
above. A small tripod of white marble curiously carved, stood in
the middle of the room, supporting a bronze censer in which incense
was burning; several antique vases and tripods adorned the room;
the tables were of the finest stones, or of glass mosaic; and the
seats or couches were covered with scarlet cloth inwoven with gold.
Within this was Euthanasia's own apartment; it was hung with
blue silk, and the pavement was of mosaic; the couches were richly
embroidered, and a small table of verde antique stood in the middle
of the room. In the recesses were several stands for books, writing
materials, & co.; and in the embrasures of the windows were
bronze stands, on which were placed finely embossed gold vases,
filled with such flowers as the season afforded. But, amidst all
this luxury, the richest ornament of the room was the lovely
possessor herself.

Castruccio and Euthanasia met; after many years of absence, they
gazed on each other with curiosity and interest. Euthanasia had
awaited his arrival with unwonted anxiety: she could not explain to
herself the agitation that she felt at the idea of meeting him;
but, when she saw him, beautiful as a god, power and love dwelling
on every feature of his countenance, and in every motion of his
graceful form, the unquiet beatings of her heart ceased, and she
became calm and happy. And was she not also beautiful? Her form was
light, and every limb was shaped according to those rules by which
the exquisite statues of the ancients have been modelled. A
quantity of golden hair fell round her neck, and, unless it had
been confined by a veil that was wreathed round her head, it would
almost have touched the ground; her eyes were blue; a blue that
seemed to have drunk-in the depths of an Italian sky, and to
reflect from their orbs the pure and unfathomable brilliance, which
strikes the sight as darkness, of a Roman heaven; but these
beauteous eyes were fringed by long, pointed lashes, which softened
their fire, and added to their sweetness: the very soul of
open-hearted Charity dwelt on her brow, and her lips expressed the
softest sensibility; there was in her countenance, beyond all of
kind and good that you could there discover, an expression that
seemed to require ages to read and understand; a wisdom exalted by
enthusiasm, a wildness tempered by self-command, that filled every
look and every motion with eternal change. She was dressed
according to the custom of the times, yet her dress was rather
plain, being neither ornamented with gold nor jewels; a silk vest
of blue reached from her neck to her feet, girded at the waist by a
small embroidered band; the wide and hanging sleeves were
embroidered at the edge, and fell far over her hands, except when,
thrown back, they discovered her rosy-tipped fingers and taper
wrist.

They met then and often again; and the difference of their
political parties only drew them closer. Euthanasia perceived that
Castruccio intended to work some change in the state of her
country; and she earnestly wished,--not to draw him over to her
party,--but to shew how futile that distinction and enmity were, if
one love of peace and good animated all hearts. She wished also to
read his mind, to know if the love of liberty lived there.
Euthanasia had this foible, if indeed it might be called one in
her, to love the very shadow of freedom with unbounded enthusiasm.
She was bred a Guelph among the leaders of that party at Florence,
a party whose watchword was liberty; her rank itself would have
forced her to take part in the contentions of the times; but she
was no narrow partizan; her father, and the studies she had
followed under him, had taught her higher lessons; and the history
of the Roman republic had increased her love of freedom, while it
had annihilated in her mind all interest in petty intrigue.
Castruccio was a staunch Ghibeline, and his soul was set on the
advancement of that party; he did not sympathize with Euthanasia,
but he appeared to do so, for he loved her, and listened, his eyes
shining with pleasure, while she spoke in silver tones, and all
appeared wise and good that came from her lips. Often her gentle
eloquence would for a while carry him along with it, and he would
talk of republics, and the energy and virtue that every citizen
acquires, when each, acting under the censure of each, yet
possesses power; and men, not as children obedient to the mere word
of command, discuss and regulate their own interests. Her
admiration for the character of several of the Florentine chiefs
gave interest to her details respecting the changes that had
occurred there during the last years, and to the many anecdotes
that she dwelt upon as demonstrating the power and grandeur of her
beloved Florence.

Nor were their conversations only political. Euthanasia's
mind was stored with sweet lore; she loved poetry, and sang or
repeated the verses of Guido or Dante; and, as she made excursions
among the woods, or joined in hunting-parties with Castruccio and
her other friends, her conversation appeared one strain of poetry.
Castruccio related his adventures, and Euthanasia was never weary
of listening to the details of the English and French courts and
manners; two systems of society, so widely opposite to each other,
and both so different from the scenes to which she had been
accustomed. Their love for one another, and their confidence
increased: the winter months passed on, and the first days of
spring, bringing with them green leaves and soft air, found them
vowed friends, each believing to be knit to the other for life with
the strongest ties of enduring love.

Euthanasia said that she loved for the first time, and a
falsehood had never stained her purest soul; a well of intensest
and overflowing passion was opened in her heart; every feeling was
softened, every emotion modulated by this change: she was
penetrated with love; and, admiration and esteem forming but a part
of this, she made a god of him she loved, believing every virtue
and every talent to live in his soul. Thus, unrestrained by any
latent fear or ungenerous suspicion, she gave up her heart to him,
and was for a while happy. They passed much time together; and
every day each made a discovery of some new excellence, some till
then unobserved accomplishment.

Her feelings were indeed entirely changed by the birth of this
new and powerful sentiment. Hitherto she had been in a great degree
alone in the world; finding none who entirely sympathized with her,
she had poured out the treasure of her heart to the ear of silence
alone. She was happy among the gaieties of Florence; the wit and
imagination of the people formed an agreeable variety to her life;
but there was a mutable and changeful spirit among them, that did
not invite her confidence. Her eyes had often been lighted up, and
her spirit awakened in conversation, where wit sharpens wit, and
the ideas of one mind seem to cause the birth of the children of
another. But, when tenderness softened her heart, and the sublime
feeling of universal love penetrated her, she found no voice that
replied so well to hers as the gentle singing of the pines under
the air of noon, and the soft murmurs of the breeze that scattered
her hair and freshened her cheek, and the dashing of the waters
that has no beginning or end.

It was not thus now; the words and looks of Castruccio replied
to her, and she felt happier than she had ever been. There was no
doubt, no sorrow; all was security and calm; and her heart
softened, until tears sprang forth under the weight of unmitigated
pleasure. She was frank, generous and fearless; therefore she
instantly believed and trusted; while the master--passions which
ever ruled her life were not forgotten, but, mingling with and
heightened by love, glowed with greater energy. They passed several
months in the enjoyment of this intercourse; they hoped, they felt,
that their destinies were intertwined never to be separated; and
their union was only deferred until Castruccio should free his
country. The summer advancing would soon give the signal for
separation. On one of these days, one of the last before their
parting, Euthanasia related to Castruccio the few events of her
peaceful life which had occurred since their separation ten years
before. The tale was short, but it was one that deeply interested
the listener.

"IT is strange for one to speak, who never before has
uttered the sentiments of her heart. With my eyes I have spoken to
the starry skies and the green earth; and with smiles that could
not express my emotion I have conversed with the soft airs of
summer, the murmur of streams, and the chequered shades of our
divine woods: but never before have I awakened sympathy in a human
countenance with words that unlock the treasure of my heart.