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He could not direct me what to do; gaze up at him as I might。

Was it before this or after that I wandered about for an hour

in the small canals; to the continued stupefaction of my gondolier;

who had never seen me so restless and yet so void of a purpose and

could extract from me no order but 〃Go anywhereeverywhereall over

the place〃?  He reminded me that I had not lunched and expressed

therefore respectfully the hope that I would dine earlier。

He had had long periods of leisure during the day; when I had left

the boat and rambled; so that I was not obliged to consider him;

and I told him that that day; for a change; I would touch

no meat。  It was an effect of poor Miss Tita's proposal;

not altogether auspicious; that I had quite lost my appetite。

I don't know why it happened that on this occasion I was more than

ever struck with that queer air of sociability; of cousinship

and family life; which makes up half the expression of Venice。

Without streets and vehicles; the uproar of wheels; the brutality

of horses; and with its little winding ways where people

crowd together; where voices sound as in the corridors of a house;

where the human step circulates as if it skirted the angles

of furniture and shoes never wear out; the place has the character

of an immense collective apartment; in which Piazza San Marco

is the most ornamented corner and palaces and churches;

for the rest; play the part of great divans of repose;

tables of entertainment; expanses of decoration。  And somehow

the splendid common domicile; familiar; domestic; and resonant;

also resembles a theater; with actors clicking over bridges and;

in straggling processions; tripping along fondamentas。  As

you sit in your gondola the footways that in certain parts edge

the canals assume to the eye the importance of a stage; meeting it

at the same angle; and the Venetian figures; moving to and fro

against the battered scenery of their little houses of comedy;

strike you as members of an endless dramatic troupe。



I went to bed that night very tired; without being able to compose

a letter to Miss Tita。  Was this failure the reason why I became

conscious the next morning as soon as I awoke of a determination

to see the poor lady again the first moment she would receive me?

That had something to do with it; but what had still more was the fact

that during my sleep a very odd revulsion had taken place in my spirit。

I found myself aware of this almost as soon as I opened my eyes;

it made me jump out of my bed with the movement of a man who remembers

that he has left the house door ajar or a candle burning under a shelf。

Was I still in time to save my goods?  That question was in my heart;

for what had now come to pass was that in the unconscious cerebration

of sleep I had swung back to a passionate appreciation of Miss

Bordereau's papers。  They were now more precious than ever;

and a kind of ferocity had come into my desire to possess them。

The condition Miss Tita had attached to the possession of them

no longer appeared an obstacle worth thinking of; and for an hour;

that morning; my repentant imagination brushed it aside。

It was absurd that I should be able to invent nothing;

absurd to renounce so easily and turn away helpless from the idea

that the only way to get hold of the papers was to unite myself

to her for life。  I would not unite myself and yet I would have them。

I must add that by the time I sent down to ask if she would see me I

had invented no alternative; though to do so I had had all the time

that I was dressing。  This failure was humiliating; yet what could

the alternative be?  Miss Tita sent back word that I might come;

and as I descended the stairs and crossed the sala to her door

this time she received me in her aunt's forlorn parlorI hoped she

would not think my errand was to tell her I accepted her hand。

She certainly would have made the day before the reflection that

I declined it。



As soon as I came into the room I saw that she had drawn this inference;

but I also saw something which had not been in my forecast。  Poor Miss

Tita's sense of her failure had produced an extraordinary alteration in her;

but I had been too full of my literary concupiscence to think of that。

Now I perceived it; I can scarcely tell how it startled me。

She stood in the middle of the room with a face of mildness bent upon me;

and her look of forgiveness; of absolution; made her angelic。

It beautified her; she was younger; she was not a ridiculous old woman。

This optical trick gave her a sort of phantasmagoric brightness;

and while I was still the victim of it I heard a whisper somewhere

in the depths of my conscience:  〃Why not; after allwhy not?〃

It seemed to me I was ready to pay the price。  Still more distinctly

however than the whisper I heard Miss Tita's own voice。  I was so struck

with the different effect she made upon me that at first I was not clearly

aware of what she was saying; then I perceived she had bade me goodbye

she said something about hoping I should be very happy。



〃Goodbyegoodbye?〃  I repeated with an inflection interrogative

and probably foolish。



I saw she did not feel the interrogation; she only heard the words;

she had strung herself up to accepting our separation and they

fell upon her ear as a proof。  〃Are you going today?〃 she asked。

〃But it doesn't matter; for whenever you go I shall not see you again。

I don't want to。〃  And she smiled strangely; with an infinite gentleness。

She had never doubted that I had left her the day before in horror。

How could she; since I had not come back before night to contradict;

even as a simple form; such an idea?  And now she had the force of soul

Miss Tita with force of soul was a new conceptionto smile at me

in her humiliation。



〃What shall you dowhere shall you go?〃  I asked。



〃Oh; I don't know。  I have done the great thing。

I have destroyed the papers。〃



〃Destroyed them?〃  I faltered。



〃Yes; what was I to keep them for?  I burned them last night;

one by one; in the kitchen。〃



〃One by one?〃  I repeated; mechanically。



〃It took a long timethere were so many。〃  The room seemed to go round me

as she said this; and a real darkness for a moment descended upon my eyes。

When it passed Miss Tita was there still; but the transfiguration

was over and she had changed back to a plain; dingy; elderly person。

It was in this character she spoke as she said; 〃I can't stay with you longer;

I can't;〃 and it was in this character that she turned her back upon me;

as I had turned mine upon her twenty…four hours before; and moved to

the door of her room。  Here she did what I had not done when I quitted her

she paused long enough to give me one look。  I have never forgotten it

and I sometimes still suffer from it; though it was not resentful。

No; there was no resentment; nothing hard or vindictive in poor Miss Tita;

for when; later; I sent her in exchange for the portrait of Jeffrey Aspern

a larger sum of money than I had hoped to be able to gather for her;

writing to her that I had sold the picture; she kept it with thanks;

she never sent it back。  I wrote to her that I had sold the picture;

but I admitted to Mrs。 Prest; at the time (I met her in London;

in the autumn); that it hangs above my writing table。  When I look at it

my chagrin at the loss of the letters becomes almost intolerable。







End 

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