Читать книгу The Carnival of Florence - Bowen Marjorie - Страница 11

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Aprilis fell asleep in the coach; she was awakened by the mingled gleam of torch and dawn-light on her face. The carriage had stopped, the door was open, and two men, who seemed servants, were helping her into the open air.

Aprilis drew the pink mantle over her face with a gesture of pride; her confused senses cleared, and she looked round for the wolf mask.

He was not there; the coachman sat alone on the seat. Aprilis shivered as she perceived that she had made her journey alone; the tears stung her tired eyes as she looked about her furtively.

The place was unknown to her; she beheld stretches of open country, misty beneath the rising sun, a house with a battlemented top and tower, a garden full of tall trees. The door stood open, and Aprilis was led through; she found herself in an entrance-hall, shuttered and dark; a little black boy held a torch that glanced on painting and gilding of wall and ceiling and the dim whiteness of marble stairs.

"Where is your master?" asked Aprilis.

"He will be here very soon, Madonna," replied one of the servants. "Meanwhile, he bids you take your ease."

"My ease?" repeated Aprilis scornfully; she stood shivering at the foot of the stairs, reluctant to ascend; at this moment even the dull home, the tyrannical father and the spying, scolding guardians seemed desirable. A woman came from the back of the house with a lamp in her hand; she was young and had a pleasant face; Aprilis glanced at her with relief, and yet hardened too, and stood in a proud silence while the stranger spoke to her.

"This is Madonna Aprilis di Ser Rosario Fiorivanti, is it not? I am Bonaventura, and you must be pleased to command me."

Aprilis said nothing.

One of the servants drew aside the woman and whispered to her; she nodded and laughed a little, then joined Aprilis, asking her, with great deference, to follow her; alert and on the defensive, Aprilis came. The little lamp her guide carried showed her some glimpses of the splendour of the house; this encouraged her; at least her adventure was no sordid one; she was in the palace of a great noble; as she thought of the masquer she coloured hotly, and her whole body trembled.

After four short flights of the marble stairs, the woman stopped and unlocked a door. Aprilis followed her into a large room. Bonaventura lit a lamp of enamelled silver that stood on the mantelshelf, and the whole chamber was illuminated with a soft clear light.

Aprilis had never been in an apartment so beautiful. The low ceiling was carved and gilded, as was the mantelpiece, the floor of polished yellow red sandstone, strewn with silk rugs, the furniture dark, simple and rich; before the windows hung silk tapestries, with the story of Bacchus and Ariadne woven in the glowing threads.

On a table, inlaid with gold and white marbles, stood a supper service of lustred Gubbio ware, wine in a white bottle with a gold stopper, mineral water in a green bottle with a silver stopper, cakes on a platter of pierced silver gilt, and dishes of cherries, strawberries and peaches embedded in snow, and covered in green leaves.

"Will you be pleased to eat?" asked Bonaventura humbly.

Aprilis shook her head.

With a pretty coaxing air the woman proffered one of the plates of fruit.

Aprilis refused them, but could not avoid exclaiming: "Peaches now! I have never seen ripe peaches on the first day of San Giovanni's Carnival!"

"They are sent from the south," said Bonaventura, submissively returning them to the table. "Is there anything else Madonna would like?"

Aprilis looked at her keenly.

"What do you know of me?" she asked.

"Nothing, except that your ladyship chooses to be here," was the deferential reply.

"Why do you think I choose to be here?" demanded Aprilis.

"Is that for Bonaventura to wonder at? I am here to be your servant?"

Aprilis detected the cunning behind the sweetness of the tones; she saw at once that it would be quite useless to try and question this woman either as to her master or his intentions.

"Will you repose a little?" asked Bonaventura. "All is ready for you, Madonna."

"How do I know," asked Aprilis sharply, "that I may repose in safety?"

The woman took from the embroidered satchel that hung before her gown a long, slender key and a little dagger in a case set with turquoise stones.

"My master sent a message that he had sworn by San Piero not to harm you, Madonna, and he sends you these—a means of defence—and a means of escape—for this is the key of these apartments. Now will you see your room?"

Aprilis took the two little objects with reviving courage, and followed Bonaventura to the inner door, which she opened, hastening deftly ahead to light another lamp here. This chamber was a small cabinet filled with books, paintings, a large desk, and several instruments unknown to Aprilis.

Another door led into a bedroom, beyond which was an alabaster-lined bathroom, where the violet and white lilies of Florence grew in the sunk pool of a little fountain.

Having shown all this with a rapid flash of the lamp Bonaventura again paused in the bedchamber and asked Aprilis what she wanted for her pleasure or her comfort. Without answering, Aprilis took the lamp from her and went to the tall mirror that hung at the foot of the bed. The clearly polished surface showed her a figure dishevelled, the flowered gown pulled awry, the rose-pink mantle crumpled, the gilt hair, usually so carefully tended, disordered and rough, her face haggard and even stained with tears, the powder lost from her cheeks, the rose-bloom from her lips.

Never, in all her short days, had her cherished beauty been so harshly treated. Tears of mortification sprang to her eyes, wetting the long lashes afresh; she stamped her foot with rage.

"Yes, I do need something," she said. "I look a hag and a witch—bring me what you have for a lady's toilet."

Bonaventura was all understanding and sympathy.

"Everything is in the bathroom—everything, Madonna!" she cried, running about and lighting the candles. "Shall I come and comb and bathe her ladyship?"

"No," said Aprilis. "I will wait on myself."

"Then I will leave her ladyship until the morning. A peaceful night, and good repose, and may San Piero guard you!"

So saying, she bowed herself out and was gone.

"It is nearly day; I will not go to bed," thought Aprilis. But left thus alone in the bedchamber she was conscious of a lassitude not to be resisted; she yawned as she pulled the white ribbon from her sheaf of tresses; she had no longer the curiosity to examine the bathroom and the treasures therein that Bonaventura had spoken of. She rubbed her eyes like a sleepy child, and her prayers, as she dropped on her knees by the strange bed, were incoherent and short.

She put out all the candles, but left the lamp burning, and laid herself, dressed as she was, on the purple coverlet of the bed, which smelt fragrantly of spikenard and orris root.

In a little while she was asleep, heavily, dreamlessly asleep, with the careless inconsequence of youth, her little hand beneath her flushed cheek, and the admired locks for once forgotten and scattered like handfuls of gold silk across the square white silk pillow, the little dagger sheath in her other hand which lay across her bosom.

When she awoke she did not move, for fatigue and lassitude still enchained her limbs, and her mind was for a moment empty of memory.

Sunshine streamed into the room, but did not penetrate the bed, which was heavy as a catafalque, draped with violet silk, and low on the ground, so that to lie there was like lying in some deep cavern under the sea, and watching the sunlight filtering through the waves overhead, for so did it filter from the high window through the folds of the scented silk curtains.

Aprilis stretched herself luxuriously, then sat up, remembering the adventure and that she was no longer within reach of the shrill voices of Monna Costanza and Monna Lucia.

For the first morning in her life there was no one to worry her, scold her, or gossip to her; she was deliciously alone. But as she put her feet to the floor fear tempered this joy of liberty. The shutters were open; she was sure that they had been closed last night; the lamp by the bedside was out; she took it up and shook it, finding it full of oil; she was convinced that it had been extinguished, and therefore that some one had entered the room while she slept. She smiled scornfully at the long silver key which she had kept beneath her pillow—what use was it if there was a pass-key?

She got off the bed and looked round the room with curiosity. It was a chamber that greatly pleased her luxurious fancy, a chamber such as Ser Rosario's taste could never have accomplished. The walls were white, with painted panels of delicate arabesques; under the ceiling, which was divided into sunk panels in gilded frames, which were painted with views of landscapes and castles, ran a frieze of nymphs and unicorns, embraced by wreaths of grapes and roses that smiling boys upheld at intervals. At the foot of the magnificent purple bed was the full length mirror in a frame of gilded wood; either side a huge press, carved a finger's-depth with figures and flowers. Aprilis found both locked. Before the flat window hung a thin curtain of peach-coloured silk, which gave the sunlight a soft and restful hue; beneath it was a long coffer, also locked, and two chairs of black wood and burnished leather.

Near the bed was a small table of green marble and a prie-Dieu with a deep rose-coloured velvet cushion, above the prie Dieu hung an ivory crucifix, an alabaster stoup of holy water and a small and lovely picture of the Holy Family in a grove of lemons. Silk rugs were on the floor, and between the bed and the door was a low, classic-shaped couch piled with cushions of tapestry and brocade in all colours of gold, red and purple. Above this, on a shelf of black wood, was a Plato and an Aristotle, bound in tooled leather, and above them a head of Minerva in porphyry.

The air was most fresh and exquisite with perfume, and Aprilis noticed the fine workmanship of every little article, the silver candlesticks, the copper lamp, the terracotta vase of red roses beside the prie-Dieu. She went into the bathroom, which was lit by windows of gold glass, and was filled with an amber-coloured light, scarlet and black carp twisted in and out of the iris roots in the little clear fountain in the centre that splashed softly in delicate drops; beyond, the huge sunk bath was filled with constantly running water; above it the nude marble figure of an athlete anointing his arm, showed in a shadowed alcove; either side marble shelves held pots and jars of white porcelain, blue jasper, lustred majolica and clear glass, containing unguents, perfumes and lotions. Either side the bath three steps led to an embrasure skilfully lit from above, in each of which was a flowering rose tree, in one a couch covered with soft silk cushions, in the other a gilt table and chair.

Aprilis sighed with pleasure; such luxury was what she had always dreamed of; she thought with contempt of Astorre, who would never be able to give her this; she was glad she had escaped a marriage that would have been a mere sacrifice of her beauty; thinking of the splendid promises of the stranger in the light of his splendid house, she straightened with pleasure and pride. Curiosity brought her back into the bedroom to gaze out of the window. A sweep of superb country—valleys, glades, woods and hills—all encircled with purple mountains and bare of house or churches, was before her; evidently she looked on the back of the villa.

The sun streamed brightly over the fresh beauty of the landscape, and Aprilis felt her heart bounding excitedly in response to the gorgeous loveliness of the scene. Now she passed into the library, or cabinet; here the window was on the other side, and too high set for her to see from; she gave an idle glance at the books, which were all religious or classical, and went into the front room again. This had two windows, one giving the same lovely view of the country, the other looking on to the front, the courtyard and garden she had come through last night, and beyond the cypress and beech trees a glimpse of the wide road. Aprilis perceived she was high up, beyond any possibility of escape that way, had she wished it, and she noticed how silent and deserted the villa seemed—the absence of any one to be seen or heard moving either within or without the house.

A sudden rush of the vague fear she could not quite banish prompted her to try her key in the door. It was with a painful leap of the heart that she discovered it would by no means fit the lock, and that the door was securely fastened on the outside. The meanness and cunning of the trick vexed her; she pulled the long silk bell-rope angrily.

But when the echoes had long died away, and no one came, fear predominated again, and she walked up and down the room in agitation.

Where the supper had stood last night another repast was laid out in a service of bronze lustred majolica. There was milk, conserved fruit, butter, the unsalted country bread and lavish dishes of cherries and peaches. As Aprilis noticed the food she felt hungry, and remembered that she had not eaten since the supper at her father's house—her betrothal supper, when Astorre had sat beside her.

At this recollection she became melancholy; a certain affection for her father, for her home, even for the aunt and cousin stirred in her heart; mistaking her loneliness for homesickness, she began to regret even Astorre, and the tears quivered on her lashes. Trembling a little, she ate the breakfast provided, and through her dismay admired the simple luxury of the service and the twisted vine pattern of the spoons.

When she had finished she wandered up and down the suite of apartments, staring at the pictures and the tapestries, fingering the books that were so beautiful, and to her so dull, and gazing out of the window at the lovely, changeless and empty landscape. She discovered that all the doors were keyless and boltless, save the bathroom, which fastened from within by means of silver bolts. She thought of this as a possible means of retreat, and it comforted her; then, as the hours wore on, and no one came near her, her idleness and her fastidiousness tempted her to use the bathroom and make her toilet; to adorn her beauty had always been her pleasantest occupation.

Securely fastened as the door was she shivered as she disrobed and stepped into the green depths of the bath. But as the scented, slightly warm water rose softly to her breast and shoulders, she was conscious only of a voluptuous delight. The dim, rosy, gold light, the lulling sound of the little fountain, the white figure in the shadowed alcove, the roses perfuming the cool air, all combined to give Aprilis the lazy pleasure of a half-waking dream. She admired the fairness, like drowned pearl, of her own rounded body under the water, and when she stood up the rosiness of her flesh and the drops falling like a crystal veil from her uplifted arms as she bound the yellow hair more securely in place.

At that moment she believed that she would do anything to have her beauty perpetually enshrined in such surroundings, and to be able to always command such luxury. She was sorry that she had no other gown to don than that of yesterday's festival, but she arranged it carefully, and combed and recombed her hair with the boxwood combs she found, tying it afresh with the white ribbon, and twisting the long, fine curls forward over her shoulders. The armoury of beauty appliances, the powders and dyes, perfumes and lotions in the glass and porcelain jars and bottles roused her jealousy; she wondered what other woman had used them; thinking this, she frowned, speculating on the ownership of the apartments; then, at the reflection that probably all had been prepared for her, she smiled again. But when her toilet was finished, and she had left the bathroom, her spirits fell.

Why did he not come? What was the object of leaving her so long alone? Disappointment and a sense of injustice and irked weariness overcame her mind. She grew tired of the rich rooms, tired of the beautiful landscape, more than a little frightened of the long silence; she longed to see even the officious cringing woman of last night; as the hot hours of midday burnt into the afternoon she became hungry again and more than a little angry at the neglect which left her here.

In her idle wandering to and fro the library, which was a narrow room little more than a corridor, she discovered another door, painted to exactly resemble the panels of the walls, with the same festoons of flowers, and only distinguishable by the keyhole. Aprilis, in sheer idleness, tried her silver key; to her surprise it fitted and turned easily. She softly pushed the door back and found herself looking into another room, which was evidently one of the same suite, fitting as it did between the bedroom and the first chamber.

It was furnished in the same style as the others; standing by the window, in a dejected attitude, was a young man in a riding dress. He turned eagerly at the sound of the opening door.

"Madonna Aprilis!" he exclaimed in soft astonishment. She knew him, and she flushed with surprise and some shame, yet she was glad too to see a familiar face.

"Messere degli Albizzi, why are you here?" she asked quickly.