Valperga (47 page)

"Do you see that river that flows near Lucca?"
exclaimed Beatrice. "I fancy that it has flowed through the
self-same banks these many thousand years; and sooner will it
desert them, than I this town. See you that cypress, that grows
towering above all its neighbour trees in that convent-garden, I am
as firm to this soil as that; I will never leave this place but by
force, and then I die."

She said these words in her wildest manner; and they were
followed by such an annihilation of strength, and such symptoms of
fever, that Euthanasia did not again dare mention her removal to
Florence. She also suffered less by her continued stay at Lucca;
for the feelings of her heart were so completely absorbed in pity
and love for Beatrice, that the painful ideas of many years'
growth seemed rooted out by a new and mightier power. She was so
little selfish, that she could easily forget her own sorrows, deep
as they were, in her sympathy for the unhappy prophetess, who had
suffered evils tremendous and irremediable.

Castruccio often sent to learn of the welfare of this poor girl,
and Euthanasia answered his enquiries with exactness. She did this;
for she thought that perhaps the future destiny of Beatrice was in
his hands, and that he might engraft life and even happiness on the
blighted plant.

One day Beatrice went out. It was the first time she had quitted
the palace; and Euthanasia was vexed and anxious. After an absence
of some hours she returned; she was clothed in a great coarse cloak
that entirely disguised her; she put it off; and, trembling,
blushing, panting, she threw herself into the arms of her
protectress.

"I have seen him! I have seen him!"

"Calm yourself, poor fluttering bird; you have seen him:
well, well, he is changed, much altered; why do you weep?"

"Aye, he is changed; but he is far more beautiful than ever
he was. Oh, Euthanasia, how radiant, how divine he is! His eyes,
which, like the eagle's, could outgaze the sun, yet melt in the
sweetest love, as a cloud, shining, yet soft; his brow, manly and
expansive, on which his raven curls rest; his upturned lips, where
pride, and joy, and love, and wisdom, and triumph live, small
spirits, ready to obey his smallest will; and his head, cinctured
by a slight diadem, looks carved out by the intensest knowledge of
beauty! How graceful his slightest motion! and his voice,--his
voice is here,--"

Beatrice put her hand upon her heart; her eyes were filled with
tears; and the whole expression of her face was softened and
humanized. Suddenly she stopped; she dried her eyes; and, fixing
them on Euthanasia, she took her two hands in hers, and looked on
her, as if she would read her soul. "Beautiful creature,"
she said, "once he told me that he loved you. Did he not? does
he not? Why are you separated? do you not love him?"

"I did; once I did truly; but he has cast off that which
was my love; and, like a flower plucked from the stalk, it has
withered--as you see it."

"Aye, that is strange. What did he cast off?"

"Why will you make me speak? He cast off humanity, honesty,
honourable feeling, all that I prize."

"Forms, forms,--mere forms, my mistaken Euthanasia. He
remained, and was not that every thing? Methinks, it would please
me, that my lover should cast off all humanity, and be a reprobate,
and an outcast of his species. Oh! then how deeply and tenderly I
should love him; soiled with crimes, his hands dripping blood, I
would shade him as the flowering shrub invests the ruin; I would
cover him with a spotless veil;--my intensity of love would
annihilate his wickedness;--every one would hate him;--but, if all
adored him, it would not come near the sum of my single affection.
I should be every thing to him, life, and hope; he would die in his
remorse; but he would live again and again in the light of my love;
I would invest him as a silvery mist, so that none should see how
evil he was; I would pour out before him large draughts of love,
that he should become drunk with it, until he grew good and kind.
So you deserted this glorious being, and he has felt the pangs of
unrequited affection, the helpless throes of love cast as water
upon the sand of the desert? Oh, indeed I pity him!"

"Believe me," cried Euthanasia, "he has other
affections. Glory and conquest are his mistresses, and he is a
successful lover; already he has deluged our valleys in blood, and
turned our habitations into black and formless ruins; he has torn
down the banners of the Florentines, and planted his own upon the
towers of noble cities; I believe him to be happy."

"Thank God for that; I would pour out my blood, drop by
drop, to make him happy. But he is not married, and you have
deserted him; I love him; he has loved me; is it impossible--? Oh!
foolish, hateful wretch that I am, what do I say? No creature was
ever so utterly undone!"

Beatrice covered her face with her hands; her struggles were
violent; she shrunk from Euthanasia's consoling embrace; and at
length, quite overcome, she sank in convulsions on the pavement of
the hall. Her paroxysm was long and fearful; it was succeeded by a
heavy lethargic sleep; during the first part of which she was
feverish and uneasy; but, after some hours, her cheeks became pale,
her pulse beat slower, and her breath was drawn regularly.

Euthanasia watched beside her alone: when she found that she was
sleeping quietly and deeply, she retired from her bedside; and,
sitting at some distance, she tried to school herself on the bitter
feelings that had oppressed her since the morning. Euthanasia was
so self-examining, that she never allowed a night to elapse without
recalling her feelings and actions of the past day; she endeavoured
to be simply just to herself, and her soul had so long been
accustomed to this discipline, that it easily laid open its dearest
secrets. Misfortune had not dulled her sense of right and wrong;
her understanding was still clear, though tinged by the same lofty
enthusiasm which had ever been her characteristic. She now searched
her soul to find what were the feelings which still remained to her
concerning Castruccio; she hardly knew whether it was hate or love.
Hate! could she hate one, to whom once she had delivered up all her
thoughts, as to the tribunal of her God, whom she had loved as one
to whom she was willing to unite herself for ever? And could she
love one, who had deceived her in her dearest hopes, who had lulled
her on the brink of a precipice, to plunge her with greater force
to eternal unhappiness? She felt neither hatred, nor revenge, nor
contempt colder than either; she felt grief alone, and that
sentiment was deeply engraven on her soul.

SHE was awakened from this reverie by the voice of Beatrice, who
called to her to come near. "I am quite recovered," she
said, "though weak; I have been very ill to-day, and I am
frightened to think of the violence of my sensations. But sit near
me, beloved friend; it is now night, and you will hear no sound but
my feeble voice; while I fulfil my promise of relating to you my
wretched history."

"Mine own Beatrice, do not now vex yourself with these
recollections; you must seek calm and peace alone; let memory go to
its grave."

"Nay, you must know all," replied Beatrice, peevishly;
"why do you baulk me? indeed I do best when I follow my own
smallest inclinations; for, when I try to combat them, I am again
ill, as I was this morning. Sit beside me; I will make room for you
on my couch; give me your hand, but turn away your soft eyes; and
now I will tell you every thing.

"You know that I loved Castruccio; how much I need hardly
tell: I loved him beyond human love, for I thought heaven itself
had interfered to unite us. I thought--alas! it is with aching pain
that I recollect my wild dreams,--that we two were chosen from the
rest of the world, gifted with celestial faculties. It appeared to
me to be a dispensation of Providence, that I should have met him
at the full height of my glory, when I was burning with triumph and
joy. I do not think, my own Euthanasia, that you can ever have
experienced the vigour and fire of my sensations. Victory in an
almost desperate struggle, success in art, love itself, are earthly
feelings, subject to change and death; but, when these three most
exquisite sensations are bestowed by the visible intervention of
heaven, thus giving security to the unstable, and eternity to what
is fleeting, such an event fills the over-brimming cup, intoxicates
the brain, and renders her who feels them more than mortal.

"Victory and glory I had, and an assurance of divine
inspiration; the fame of what I was, was spread among the people of
my country; then love came, and flattered, and softened, and
overcame me. Well, that I will pass over: to conceive that all I
felt was human, common, and now faded, disgusts me, and makes me
look back with horror to my lost paradise. Castruccio left me; and
I sat I cannot tell how long, white, immoveable, and entranced;
hours, I believe days, passed; I cannot tell, for in truth I think
I was mad. Yet I was silent; not a word, not a tear, not a sound
escaped me, until some one mentioned the name of Castruccio before
me, and then I wept. I did not rave or weep aloud; I crept about
like a shadow, brooding over my own thoughts, and trying to divine
the mystery of my destiny.

"At length I went to my good father, the bishop; I knelt
down before him: `Rise, dear child,' he said; `how pale you
are! what has quenched the fire of your brilliant eyes?'

"`Father, holy father,' I replied, `I will not rise
till you answer me one question.'--My looks were haggard with
want of rest; my tangled locks fell on my neck; my glazed eyes
could scarcely distinguish any object.

"`My blessed Beatrice,' said the good old man, `you are
much unlike yourself: but speak; I know that you can ask nothing
that I can refuse to tell.'

"`Tell me then, by your hopes of heaven,' I cried,
`whether fraud was used in the Judgement of God that I underwent,
or how I escaped the fearful burning of the hot shares.'

"Tears started in my father's eyes; he rose, and
embraced me, and, lifting me up, said with passion,--`Thank God! my
prayers are fulfilled. Beatrice, you shall not be deceived, you
will no longer deceive yourself; and do not be unhappy, but joy
that the deceit is removed from you, and that you may return from
your wild and feverish ecstasies to a true and real piety.'

"`This is all well,' I replied calmly; `but tell me
truly how it happened.'

"`That I cannot, my child, for I was myself kept in the
dark; I only know that fraud was most certainly practised for your
deliverance. My child, we have all of us much erred; you less than
any; for you have been deceived, led away by your feelings and
imagination to believe yourself that which you are not.'

"I will not repeat to you all that the bishop said; it was
severe, but kind. First he shewed me, how I had deceived myself,
and nourished ecstasies and transports of the soul which were in no
way allied to holiness; and then he told me now I must repair my
faults by deep humility, prayer, and a steady faith in that alone
which others taught, not what I myself imagined. I listened
silently; but I heard every word; I was very docile; I believed all
he said; and although my soul bled with its agony, I accused none,
none but myself. At first I thought that I would tell my countrymen
of their deception. But, unsupported by my supernatural powers, I
now shrunk from all display; no veil, no wall could conceal me
sufficiently; for it could not hide me from myself. My very powers
of speech deserted me, and I could not articulate a syllable; I
listened, my eyes bent on the earth, my cheek pale; I listened
until I almost became marble. At length the good old man ceased;
and, with many words of affectionate comfort, he bade me go and
make firm peace with my own heart, and that then he hoped to teach
me a calm road to happiness. Happiness! surely I must have been
stone; for I neither frowned in despite, nor laughed in derision,
when that term was applied to any thing that I could hereafter
feel. I kissed his hand, and withdrew.

"Did you ever feel true humility? a prostration of soul,
that accuses itself alone, and asks pardon of a superior power with
entire penitence, and a confiding desertion of all self-merit, a
persuasion intimate and heartfelt of one's own unworthiness?
That was what I felt; I had been vain, proud, presumptuous; now I
fell to utter poverty of spirit; yet it was not poverty, for there
was a richness in my penitence which reminded me of the sacred
text, that says `Oh, that my head were water, and mine eyes a
fountain of tears!'

"Then succeeded to this mental humiliation, a desire to
mortify and punish myself for my temerity and mistakes. I was
possessed by a spirit of martyrdom. Sometimes I thought that I
would again undergo the Judgement of God fairly and justly: but now
I shrunk from public exhibition; besides, the good bishop had
strongly reprobated these temptations of God's justice. At
other times I thought that I would confess all to my excellent
father; and this perhaps is what I ought to have done; what would
really have caused me to regain a part of the calm that I had lost;
but I could not; womanly shame forbade me; death would have been a
far preferable alternative. At length an idea struck me, that
seemed to my overstrained feelings to transcend all other
penitence; a wretchedness and anguish that might well redeem my
exceeding sins.

"Think you that, while I thus humbled myself, I forgot
Castruccio? Never! the love I bore him clung around me, festered on
my soul, and kept me ever alive to pain. Love him! I adored him; to
whisper his name only in solitude, where none could hear my voice
but my own most attentive ear, thrilled me with transport. I tried
to banish him from my thoughts; he recurred in my dreams, which I
could not control. I saw him there, beautiful as his real self, and
my heart was burnt by my emotion. Well; it was on this excess of
love that I built my penitence, which was to go as a pilgrim and
ask alms of you. Euthanasia! I only knew your name; the very idea
of seeing you made me shiver. It was three months before I could
steel my heart to this resolve. I saw none; I spoke to none; I was
occupied by my meditations alone, and those were deep and
undermining as the ocean.