massimilla doni-第10节

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adapted　to　the　needs　of　the　place　that　some　Venetian　women　never　know
what　their　husband's　business　may　be；　for；　if　they　have　a　letter　to
write；　they　go　to　write　it　there。

Spies；　of　course；　abound　at　Florian's；　but　their　presence　only
sharpens　Venetian　wits；　which　may　here　exercise　the　discretion　once　so
famous。　A　great　many　persons　spend　the　whole　day　at　Florian's；　in
fact；　to　some　men　Florian's　is　so　much　a　matter　of　necessity；　that
between　the　acts　of　an　opera　they　leave　the　ladies　in　their　boxes　and
take　a　turn　to　hear　what　is　going　on　there。

While　the　two　friends　were　walking　in　the　narrow　streets　of　the
Merceria　they　did　not　speak；　for　there　were　too　many　people；　but　as
they　turned　into　the　Piazzi　di　San　Marco；　the　Prince　said：

〃Do　not　go　at　once　to　the　cafe。　Let　us　walk　about；　I　want　to　talk　to
you。〃

He　related　his　adventure　with　Clarina　and　explained　his　position。　To
Vendramin　Emilio's　despair　seemed　so　nearly　allied　to　madness　that　he
promised　to　cure　him　completely　if　only　he　would　give　him　/carte
blanche/　to　deal　with　Massimilla。　This　ray　of　hope　came　just　in　time
to　save　Emilio　from　drowning　himself　that　night；　for；　indeed；　as　he
remembered　the　singer；　he　felt　a　horrible　wish　to　go　back　to　her。

The　two　friends　then　went　to　an　inner　room　at　Florian's；　where　they
listened　to　the　conversation　of　some　of　the　superior　men　of　the　town；
who　discoursed　the　subjects　of　the　day。　The　most　interesting　of　these
were；　in　the　first　place；　the　eccentricities　of　Lord　Byron；　of　whom
the　Venetians　made　great　sport；　then　Cataneo's　attachment　for　la
Tinti；　for　which　no　reason　could　be　assigned　after　twenty　different
causes　had　been　suggested；　then　Genovese's　debut；　finally；　the　tilting
match　between　the　Duchess　and　the　French　doctor。　Just　as　the
discussion　became　vehemently　musical；　Duke　Cataneo　made　his
appearance。　He　bowed　very　courteously　to　Emilio；　which　seemed　so
natural　that　no　one　noticed　it；　and　Emilio　bowed　gravely　in　return。
Cataneo　looked　round　to　see　if　there　was　anybody　he　knew；　recognized
Vendramin　and　greeted　him；　bowed　to　his　banker；　a　rich　patrician；　and
finally　to　the　man　who　happened　to　be　speaking；a　celebrated　musical
fanatic；　a　friend　of　the　Comtesse　Albrizzi。　Like　some　others　who
frequented　Florian's；　his　mode　of　life　was　absolutely　unknown；　so
carefully　did　he　conceal　it。　Nothing　was　known　about　him　but　what　he
chose　to　tell。

This　was　Capraja；　the　nobleman　whom　the　Duchess　had　mentioned　to　the
French　doctor。　This　Venetian　was　one　of　a　class　of　dreamers　whose
powerful　minds　divine　everything。　He　was　an　eccentric　theorist；　and
cared　no　more　for　celebrity　than　for　a　broken　pipe。

His　life　was　in　accordance　with　his　ideas。　Capraja　made　his　appearance
at　about　ten　every　morning　under　the　/Procuratie/；　without　anyone
knowing　whence　he　came。　He　lounged　about　Venice；　smoking　cigars。　He
regularly　went　to　the　Fenice；　sitting　in　the　pit…stalls；　and　between
the　acts　went　round　to　Florian's；　where　he　took　three　or　four　cups　of
coffee　a　day；　and　he　ended　the　evening　at　the　cafe；　never　leaving　it
till　about　two　in　the　morning。　Twelve　hundred　francs　a　year　paid　all
his　expenses；　he　ate　but　one　meal　a　day　at　an　eating…house　in　the
Merceria；　where　the　cook　had　his　dinner　ready　for　him　at　a　fixed　hour；
on　a　little　table　at　the　back　of　the　shop；　the　pastry…cook's　daughter
herself　prepared　his　stuffed　oysters；　provided　him　with　cigars；　and
took　care　of　his　money。　By　his　advice；　this　girl；　though　she　was　very
handsome；　would　never　countenance　a　lover；　lived　very　steadily；　and
still　wore　the　old　Venetian　costume。　This　purely…bred　Venetian　girl
was　twelve　years　old　when　Capraja　first　took　an　interest　in　her；　and
six…and…twenty　when　he　died。　She　was　very　fond　of　him；　though　he　had
never　even　kissed　her　hand　or　her　brow；　and　she　knew　nothing　whatever
of　the　poor　old　nobleman's　intentions　with　regard　to　her。　The　girl　had
at　last　as　complete　control　of　the　old　gentleman　as　a　mother　has　of
her　child；　she　would　tell　him　when　he　wanted　clean　linen；　next　day　he
would　come　without　a　shirt；　and　she　would　give　him　a　clean　one　to　put
on　in　the　morning。

He　never　looked　at　a　woman　either　in　the　theatre　or　out　walking。
Though　he　was　the　descendant　of　an　old　patrician　family　he　never
thought　his　rank　worth　mentioning。　But　at　night；　after　twelve；　he
awoke　from　his　apathy；　talked；　and　showed　that　he　had　seen　and　heard
everything。　This　peaceful　Diogenes；　quite　incapable　of　explaining　his
tenets；　half　a　Turk；　half　a　Venetian；　was　thick…set；　short；　and　fat；
he　had　a　Doge's　sharp　nose；　an　inquisitive；　satirical　eye；　and　a
discreet　though　smiling　mouth。

When　he　died；　it　became　known　that　he　had　lived　in　a　little　den　near
San　Benedetto。　He　had　two　million　francs　invested　in　the　funds　of
various　countries　of　Europe；　and　had　left　the　interest　untouched　ever
since　he　had　first　bought　the　securities　in　1814；　so　the　sum　was　now
enormous；　alike　from　the　increased　value　of　the　capital　and　the
accumulated　interest。　All　this　money　was　left　to　the　pastry…cook's
daughter。

〃Genovese；〃　he　was　saying；　〃will　do　wonders。　Whether　he　really
understands　the　great　end　of　music；　or　acts　only　on　instinct；　I　know
not；　but　he　is　the　first　singer　who　ever　satisfied　me。　I　shall　not　die
without　hearing　a　/cadenza/　executed　as　I　have　heard　them　in　my
dreams；　waking　with　a　feeling　as　though　the　sounds　were　floating　in
the　air。　The　clear　/cadenza/　is　the　highest　achievement　of　art；　it　is
the　arabesque；　decorating　the　finest　room　in　the　house；　a　shade　too
little　and　it　is　nothing；　a　touch　too　much　and　all　is　confusion。　Its
task　is　to　awake　in　the　soul　a　thousand　dormant　ideas；　it　flies　up　and
sweeps　through　space；　scattering　seeds　in　the　air　to　be　taken　in　by
our　ears　and　blossom　in　our　heart。　Believe　me；　in　painting　his　Saint…
Cecilia；　Raphael　gave　the　preference　to　music　over　poetry。　And　he　was
right；　music　appeals　to　the　heart；　whereas　writing　is　addressed　to　the
intellect；　it　communicates　ideas　directly；　like　a　perfume。　The
singer's　voice　impinges　not　on　the　mind；　not　on　the　memory　of
happiness；　but　on　the　first　principle　of　thought；　it　stirs　the
elements　of　sensation。

〃It　is　a　grievous　thing　that　the　populace　should　have　compelled
musicians　to　adapt　their　expression　to　words；　to　factitious　emotions；
but　then　they　were　not　otherwise　intelligible　to　the　vulgar。　Thus　the
/cadenza/　is　the　only　thing　left　to　the　lovers　of　pure　music；　the
devotees　of　unfettered　art。　To…night；　as　I　listened　to　that　last
/cavatina/；　I　felt　as　if　I　were　beckoned　by　a　fair　creature　whose　look
alone　had　made　me　young　again。　The　enchantress　placed　a　crown　on　my
brow；　and　led　me　to　the　ivory　door　through　which　we　pass　to　the
mysterious　land　of　day…dreams。　I　owe　it　to　Genovese　that　I　escaped　for
a　few　minutes　from　this　old　huskminutes；　short　no　doubt　by　the
clock；　but　very　long　by　the　record　of　sensation。　For　a　brief　spring…
time；　scented　with　roses；　I　was　young　againand　beloved！〃

〃But　you　are　mistaken；　/caro/　Capraja；〃　said　the　Duke。　〃There　is　in
music　an　effect　yet　more　magical　than　that　of　the　/cadenza/。〃

〃What　is　that？〃　asked　Capraja。

〃The　unison　of　two　voices；　or　of　a　voice　and　a　violin；the　instrument
which　has　tones　most　nearly　resembling　those　of　the　human　voice；〃
replied　Cataneo。　〃This　perfect　concord　bears　us　on　to　the　very　heart
of　life；　on　the　tide　of　elements　which　can　resuscitate　rapture　and
carry　man　up　to　the　centre　of　the　luminous　sphere　where　his　mind　can
command　the　whole　universe。　You　still　need　a　/thema/；　Capraja；　but　the
pure　element　is　enough　for　me。　You　need　that　the　current　should　flow
through　the　myriad　canals　of　the　machine　to　fall　in　dazzling　cascades；
while　I　am　content　with　the　pure　tranquil　pool。　My　eye　gazes　across　a
lake　without　a　ripple。　I　can　embrace　the　infinite。〃

〃Speak　no　more；　Cataneo；〃　said　Capraja；　haughtily。　〃What！　Do　you　fail
to　see　the　fairy；　who；　in　her　swift　rush　through　the　sparkling
atmosphere；　collects　and　binds　with　the　golden　thread　of　harmony；　the
gems　of　melody　she　smilingly　sheds　on　us？　Have　you　ever　felt　the　touch
of　her　wand；　as　she　says　to　Curiosity；　'Awake！'　The　divinity　rises　up
radiant　from　the　depths　of　the　brain；　she　flies　to　her　store　of
wonders　and　fingers　them　lightly　as　an　organist　touches　the　keys。
Suddenly；　up　starts　Memory；　bringing　us　the　roses　of　the　past；
divinely　preserved　and　still　fresh。　The　mistress　of　our　youth　revives；
and　strokes　the　young　man's　hair。　Our　heart；　too　full；　overflows；　we
see　the　flowery　banks　of　the　torrent　of　love。　Every　burning　bush　we
ever　knew　blazes　afresh；　and　repeats　the　heavenly　words　we　once　heard
and　understood。　The　voice　rolls　on；　it　embraces　in　its　rapid　turns
those　fugitive　horizons；　and　they　shrink　away；　they　vanish；　eclipsed
by　newer　and　deeper　joysthose　of　an　unrevealed　future；　to　which　the
fairy　points　as　she　returns　to　the　blue　heaven。〃

〃And　you；〃　retorted　Cataneo；　〃have　you　never　seen　the　direct　ray　of　a
star　opening　the　vistas　above；　have　you　never　mounted　on　that　beam
which　guides　you　to　the　sky；　to　the　heart　of　the　first　causes　which
move　the　worlds？〃

To　their　hearers；　the　Duke　and　Capraja　were　playing　a　game　of　which
the　premises　were　unknown