Читать книгу W. Somerset Maugham: Novels, Short Stories, Plays & Travel Sketches (33 Titles In One Edition) - Уильям Сомерсет Моэм - Страница 28

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When I got home, I threw myself on my bed and enjoyed a delightful sleep, and when I awoke felt cool and fresh, and very happy.

'What is the matter with you?' asked Matteo.

'I am rather contented with myself,' I said.

'Then, if you want to make other people contented, you had better come with me to Donna Claudia.'

'The beautiful Claudia?'

'The same!'

'But can we venture in the enemy's camp?'

'That is exactly why I want you to come. The idea is to take no notice of the events of yesterday, and that we should all go about as if nothing had happened.'

'But Messer Piacentini will not be very glad to see us.'

'He will be grinding his teeth, and inwardly spitting fire; but he will take us to his arms and embrace us, and try to make us believe he loves us with the most Christian affection.'

'Very well; come on!'

Donna Claudia, at all events, was delighted to see us, and she began making eyes and sighing, and putting her hand to her bosom in the most affecting manner.

'Why have you not been to see me, Messer Filippo?' she asked.

'Indeed, madam, I was afraid of being intrusive.'

'Ah,' she said, with a sweeping glance, 'how could you be! No, there was another reason for your absence. Alas!'

'I dared not face those lustrous eyes.'

She turned them full on me, and then turned them up, Madonna-wise, showing the whites.

'Are they so cruel, do you think?'

'They are too brilliant. How dangerous to the moth is the candle; and in this case the candle is twain.'

'But they say the moth as it flutters in the flame enjoys a perfection of ecstasy.'

'Ah, but I am a very sensible moth,' I answered in a matter-of-fact tone, 'and I am afraid of burning my wings.'

'How prosaic!' she murmured.

'The muse,' I said politely, 'loses her force when you are present.'

She evidently did not quite understand what I meant, for there was a look of slight bewilderment in her eyes; and I was not surprised, for I had not myself the faintest notion of my meaning. Still she saw it was a compliment.

'Ah, you are very polite!'

We paused a moment, during which we both looked unutterable things at one another. Then she gave a deep sigh.

'Why so sad, sweet lady?' I asked.

'Messer Filippo,' she answered, 'I am an unhappy woman.' She hit her breast with her hand.

'You are too beautiful,' I remarked gallantly.

'Ah no! ah no! I am unhappy.'

I glanced at her husband, who was stalking grimly about the room, looking like a retired soldier with the gout; and I thought that to be in the society of such a person was enough to make anyone miserable.

'You are right,' she said, following my eyes; 'it is my husband. He is so unsympathetic.'

I condoled with her.

'He is so jealous of me, and, as you know, I am a pattern of virtue to Forli!'

I had never heard her character so described, but, of course, I said,—

'To look at you would be enough to reassure the most violent of husbands.'

'Oh, I have temptation enough, I assure you,' she answered quickly.

'I can well believe that.'

'But I am as faithful to him as if I were old and ugly; and yet he is jealous.'

'We all have our crosses in this life,' I remarked sententiously.

'Heaven knows I have mine; but I have my consolations.'

So I supposed, and answered,—

'Oh!'

'I pour out my soul in a series of sonnets.'

'A second Petrarch!'

'My friends say some of them are not unworthy of that great name.'

'I can well believe it.'

Here relief came, and like the tired sentinel, I left the post of duty. I thought of my sweet Giulia, and wondered at her beauty and charm; it was all so much clearer and cleaner than the dross I saw around me. I came away, for I was pining for solitude, and then I gave myself up to the exquisite dreams of my love.

At last the time came, the long day had at last worn away, and the night, the friend of lovers, gave me leave to go to Giulia.