CHAPTER II
The Corso
The institution of Carnival and Lent in Italy seems very much as if itarose from a practical conviction in the minds of the Italians that theycannot serve two masters,--at least at the same time,--Mammon in all hisforms is to be the acknowledged and exclusive lord of the hour duringthe first period, on condition that higher and holier claims to serviceshall be as unreservedly recognized when the second shall have set in.
"Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda water the day after."
Byron has given us the rule with the most orthodox accuracy. Whether thesecond portion of the prescription is observed as heartily, punctually,and universally as the first, may be doubted. But in all outward formand ceremony the violence of the contrast between the two seasons isacted out to the letter; is, or was, as may be perhaps more correctlysaid now-a-days; for both Carnival jollity and licence, and Lentstrictness, are from year to year less observed than used to be thecase. At Rome, Mother Church exhorts her subjects to feast and laugh inCarnival, in nowise less earnestly or imperatively than she enjoins onthem fasting and penances for having laughed in Lent. But her subjectswill do neither the one nor the other. And when one hears reiteratedcomplaints in Roman pulpits of pipings to which no dancers haveresponded, and the vain exhortations of the ecclesiastical authoritiesto the people to Carnival frolic and festivity, one is reminded of ourown Archbishop's "Book of Sports," and led to make comparisons, by whichhangs a very long tale.
Great Pan died once upon a time. And Carnival, as it used to be, is withmuch else dying now in Italy. But in the days to which the incidentshere narrated belong, the difference between Carnival and Lent was asmarked as that between day and night.
More marked indeed. For between day and night there is twilight, but thetransition from Carnival to Lent is as sudden as a plunge from sunshineinto cold water. Carnival ends at twelve o'clock on the night of ShroveTuesday. And the theory of its observance is, or was, that the fun andrevelry should grow ever more fast and furious up to the last permittedmoment. Then, the clock strikes; the lights are put out, Carnival diesamid one last hurrah. And maskers and revellers go home to rise the nextmorning with grave and perhaps yellow faces.
In Ravenna, as has been said, a great reception of all the society atthe Palazzo Castelmare on the Sunday evening was as much an institutionas the High Mass on a Sunday morning. And this was the course of thingsduring all the year, except in Carnival time. Then, in order to leaveSunday evening--the great time for balls and theatres, and pleasure ofall sorts free, the reception at the Palazzo Castelmare was changed tothe Monday. The programme, therefore, for the three last grand days ofthe Carnival in Ravenna, on that occasion, stood thus:--On the Sunday, agrand gala Corso from four to six in the afternoon. (That is to say,that every available carriage of every sort in Ravenna would be put inrequisition, and would be driven in procession, at a slow foot pace, upand down the long street called the Corso; and those who had servantsand liveries and fine horses would display them and rejoice; and thosewho had none of these things would mingle with the grand carriages inbroken-down shandridans, and rejoice also at the sight of the finery,without the smallest feeling of shame at their own poverty. This is aCorso.) On the Sunday evening, the grand representation of theSonnambula, with the theatre lighted (according to advertisement) "withwax-candles, till it was as light as day!"
Secondly, on the Monday, another Corso, with throwing of flowers and"coriandoli" (i. e. what was supposed to be comfits, but in realitylittle pills of flour made and sold by the hundredweight for thepurpose) from the carriages to each other, and from the windows and thebalconies of the houses. Then in the evening, a grand gala reception atthe Palazzo Castelmare, at which it was understood masks would be gladlywelcomed by the host.
On the night of the Tuesday, thirdly, the last great day of all, therewas to be a grand masked ball at the Circolo dei Nobili; that ball ofwhich and of its consequences on the Ash Wednesday morning, the readeralready wots. And this was to be the wind-up of the Carnival.
The Corso on the Sunday was a most successful one. The weather was allthat was most desirable; bright, not too cold, and free from wind anddust. The Marchese Lamberto turned out with two handsomely appointedequipages. He and his sister-in-law occupied one carriage, and theMarchese Ludovico and the Conte Leandro Lombardone, who was not a richman, and had no carriage of his own, sat in the second.
It could not be said that the Marchese Lamberto "looked like the time!"And, in truth, he would have given much to escape the ordeal he wascalled upon to go through. But that was out of the question; unless hehad been confined to his bed--in which case the whole town would havebeen at the palazzo door with inquiries, and all the doctors at hisbedside in consultation--it could not be that he should not show himselfat the Corso.
Both the Castelmare carriages had the front seats laden with hugebaskets of bouquets prepared for throwing at friends and acquaintancesin other carriages, and at windows and balconies. The occupants of thecarriages seemed to be embedded in a bank of flowers. And there sat theMarchese amid this wealth of rainbow-colours, looking positivelyghastly,--so changed, so drawn, so aged was he. And his painful attemptsto enter into the spirit of the scene, and act the part which he wasexpected to act, would have been pitiable to any eye which had observedthem closely.
He had left Bianca only just before it had been necessary to return tothe palazzo to get into his carriage for the Corso: and the interviewbetween them had been an important one. He had gone thither fullypurposed to explain to her, finally, the utter impossibility of hisdoing as she would have him do. He meant to point out to her howexceptionally difficult it would be for him, in the peculiar position heoccupied, to make her his wife. He intended to show her that such a stepwould have the effect of pulling him down rather than that of pullingher up. He had purposed endeavouring to induce her to accede to suchproposals as he could make to her by the exhibition of the mostunstinting generosity. And he had determined,--fully, finally, andirrevocably determined, that if all that he could say to her on thesepoints should fail to persuade her to accede to such an arrangement, ashe had it in his power to propose to her, he would that day, and fromthat hour, give her up, and swear to himself never to let the image ofher cross his memory again.
The visit had been long, and occasionally even somewhat tempestuous. TheMarchese had been eloquent; and now driven to bay, had been unequivocalenough in his declarations, his determinations, and his promises. TheDiva had shown herself a Diva at every point. She had wept, she hadsmiled, she had been scornful, she had been suppliant, she had beenrepellent, she had been loving! And in every mood she had seemed to thefascinated eyes of the Marchese more lovely than in that which precededit. Finally, she had conquered. Instead of coming away from her, neverto see her again, he came away leaving her with the offer of his hand.
And there had been a moment of supreme triumph and ecstasy whenpermitted, for the first time, to take her in his arms, and press thatlovely bosom to his own, and glue his own to those heavenly lips; it hadseemed to him as if the prize that was his was worth a thousand timesall that he was paying for it. It was all for love, and the world welllost. For not for an instant did the Marchese blind himself to the factthat his world must be lost by such a marriage as he was contemplating.But what did he care for all that had been hitherto to him as the breathof his nostrils? He now felt, for the first time, what of joy and realhappiness life had in truth to offer. He would go away,--far away withhis Bianca and live only for her, and for the delights of her love! Foolthat he had been to hesitate. And blessed a thousand times was hersweet, her dear insistence, that had led him to better things!
Such was the state of the mind of the Marchese, while he held his Divain his arms; and it lasted in full force, almost till he had left thedoor of her house behind him as he hastened to the palazzo to dischargethe Corso duty, which was one of the most prominent functions of hispresent social position.
And then it seemed as if suddenly,--with a suddenness equal to that of atropical sunset,--the scales had fallen from his eyes, and he wasanother man.
Great God! What had he done? Had he been smitten with sudden madness?What--what was the fatal power this fearful woman had over him? Werethen the old witchcraft and philtre tales really true? Surely he must bethe victim of some spell, some horrible enchantment. Marry her! Heavensand earth! He hated her. He felt as if he could with pleasure take herby that beautiful throat and squeeze the noxious life out of her.
He pressed his burning hand to his yet hotter forehead, as soon as hefound himself in the quiet and solitude of his own room, swallowed alarge glass of water, and strove to obtain such little command overhimself, for the moment at least, as might suffice to enable him to gothrough the task before him.
A servant knocked at the door and put his head in to announce that thecarriages were at the door. The miserable man started from his chair asif he had been caught in some crime, and answered that he would be downdirectly. A second time he swallowed, hastily, a large glass of water,for his throat felt parched with thirst; and then, with a vigorouseffort to appear gay and at his ease, which produced only the semblanceof a fixed unnatural grin on his face, he went down to the carriage.
It was painful to him to pass between the servants who stood in thehall, painful to have to take his seat by the side of hissister-in-law,--and most painful of all to meet the gaze of all the townassembled for the Corso. He could not help thinking that all eyes wereturned on him, with glances of surprise and suspicion. He felt ashamedto meet and be seen by his acquaintances. He, the Marchese Lamberto diCastelmare, who had never, till that hour, known what it was to shun theeye of any man,--who had been accustomed to be the cynosure of all eyes,and to feel that they were all turned on him with respect and regard.
The occasion, and the part he was expected to fulfil in it, made itnecessary for him to recognize and return every minute the salutationsand greetings of his friends and those who knew him. And who in Ravennadid not know the Marchese Lamberto? There was a good-natured word wantedhere, a gallant little phrase there, a salutation with the speakingfingers to this carriage, a more formal bow to the occupants of another,a gracious nod to one person, and a smile to a second.
And all this the unhappy man essayed to perform, as he had so oftenperformed it happily, easily, and successfully in other days.
It was impossible for anybody, whose eye rested on the Marchese for aninstant, as he sat amid the flowers in his carriage, to avoid seeingthat there was something wrong with him--that he was very unlike hisusual self. And every eye, as the carriages passed each other in thelong procession, forming two lines as one passed down the street whilethe other moved in the contrary direction, did rest on him. But it neverfor an instant entered into the head of a single human being there, toguess at anything like the real cause of the change in the Marchese.
"Time begins to tell on the Marchese; he takes too much out of himself;always busy--no rest--a bad thing!" said one.
"The Marchese Lamberto looks knocked up with this carnival. Quite timefor him that Lent was come," said another.
"The fact is that the Marchese is growing old, and he wants more rest.He has not a minute to himself,--too many irons in the fire at once,said a third.
"I dare say he has been worried out of his life in getting this newOpera put upon the stage. You'll see he'll be all right enough at theball to-morrow night."
"Is she in the Corso--La Lalli?"
"Altro. I should think so--and looking so lovely. What a woman she is!"
"Whereabouts is she?"
"About twenty carriages further ahead. You'll see her presently, when weare near the turn, sitting buried up to her waist nearly in flowers--aregular Flora, and such a representative as the Goddess never hadbefore."
"Who has she got with her in her carriage?" asked the first speaker. "Iexpected to have seen the Marchesino Ludovico there, but he is with theConte Leandro, in one of the Castelmare carriages."
"Che! catch her compromising herself in any such manner. I wonder howmuch some of our friends would have given to have the place beside herto-day? But not a bit of it: she has got the old man she calls herfather with her."
"Funny, isn't it? I wonder what her game is?"
"Simply to work hard at her vocation, and make as much money as she can,I take it. Probably you would find, if you got at the truth, some animalof a baritono robuato, who owns the Diva's heart, and for whom she worksand slaves."
"Poverina! there are the Castelmare carriages coming round again."
The manner of an Italian "Corso" is this: A certain street, orstreets--the most adapted to the exigencies of the case that the citycan supply--is selected for the purpose; and when the line of carriagesreaches the end of this, it turns and proceeds back again to the otherend; turns again, and so on. Thus, at each turn, every carriage in theline meets every other once in each circuit.
The second Castelmare carriage, in which the Marchese Ludovico andLeandro Lombardoni were sitting, was following next after that occupiedby the Marchese Lamberto and his sister-in-law; and thus each carriagein the line proceeding in a contrary direction to them, passed first theMarchese Lamberto and then his nephew. The carriage occupied by thelatter was a wholly open one with a low back. But that in which theMarchese Lamberto sat, though also an open carriage, and entirely so infront, had a half roof at the back, so that it was not so convenientlyadapted as the other for seeing those following it as well as thosepreceding it.
The Marchese and his sister-in-law threw bouquets into almost everycarriage that passed them; and the stock with which they had started wassoon very much diminished. But one specially magnificent and largebouquet, which conspicuously occupied the centre of the front seat ofthe carriage, was evidently reserved. Everybody who saw it knew verywell for whom that was intended. Of course it was for none other thanthe Diva of the theatre. And the known interest which the Marchese tookin such matters, his musical fanaticism, and the large share he had hadin bringing La Lalli to Ravenna, made it quite natural, and a matter ofcourse, that he should pay her such a compliment.
Presently he descried her in the opposite string of carriages, comingtowards him. Her carriage was an entirely open one, and she sate in it,with old Quinto Lalli by her side, literally, as one observer had said,half buried in flowers. And most assuredly neither the labours nor thedissipations of the carnival, nor time, nor care, nor any othercircumstance, had dimmed the lustre of her beauty, or lessened the verveand spirit of enjoyment with which she took her part in the pageant. Shewas brilliant with vivacity, beauty, and happiness.
The Marchese might have been seen, had anybody been observing himclosely at the moment, to turn visibly paler as her carriage approachedhis. As far as any clear thought had been in his mind, or any power ofthinking possible to him, his latest idea in reference to her had been adesperate resolve that he would never speak to her again. And now,again, as he saw her, in a new avatar of loveliness, he once again knewthat to keep such a resolution was above his power.
What he had to do at the moment was to be done, in any case, with thebest grace he might. Taking the huge mass of skilfully-arranged flowersin both hands, as her carriage came opposite to his, he leaned out asfar as he could, and Quinto Lalli, who sat on the side nearest to him,stretched out to meet him, and then handed the offering to the Goddess.She smiled brilliantly and bowed low, sending a coquettish, sidelongglance of private thanks under eyelashes as she bent her graceful neck.
The carriages rolled on, and passed each other; and there rushed intothe Marchese's head a sudden pulse of blood, which turned his previouspallor into a dusky crimson, and seemed to make all the scene swimbefore his eyes. Partly to hide the evidences of the emotion of which hewas conscious, and partly because he felt as if he needed the support,he threw himself back into the corner of the carriage, turning himselfaway from the scene in front of it as though to shelter his face fromthe sun that was then s
o low in the sky as to begin to throw itsslanting rays under the hoods of the carriages. This position, as itchanced, brought the Marchese's eye to bear on the little glass windowmade in the back of the hood of the carriage, after the old-fashionedmanner of coach-building.
And what he saw through the little window was this.
A something--a white paper packet, it looked like--was in the act ofbeing thrown to the Diva's carriage from that immediately behind hisown, in which, it will be remembered, were his nephew and the ConteLeandro; and the Goddess herself was leaning far out of her carriage inthe act of throwing a bouquet to the Marchese Ludovico: The MarcheseLamberto also saw the magnificent flowers he had himself just given toBianca roll from her carriage on to the pavement,--an accident caused bythe movement of her person as she leaned forward to throw her flowers tothe other carriage.
With what an added torment to the hell that raged within him theunfortunate Marchese returned from that miserable Corso to his palazzo,may be well imagined.
Nevertheless, there had been as little meaning in what he had seen asthere often is in many things that make the madness of a jealous man'sjealousy.
With the white paper packet--for such it in truth was--the MarcheseLudovico had nothing whatever to do. It had been thrown by the poetLeandro, and contained an attempt to improve the occasion after afashion, such as he hoped must draw some reply from the Diva. Bianca hadtaken the opportunity--somewhat coquettishly, but according to the lawsand customs of such occasions, quite permissibly--to pay Ludovico thecompliment in the eye of all Ravenna of throwing some flowers becauseshe liked him, and because she chose to mark the fact that she threwnone during all the Corso to anybody else. She would have done the sameif it had so happened that it had been in front of the MarcheseLamberto's carriage instead of behind it; but, of course, to thepassion-blinded brain of the latter, this circumstance made all thedifference.
As to the rolling of his own superb bouquet on the pavement, it had beenquite accidental, and much regretted by Bianca. To recover anything ofthe kind on such an occasion is, it must be understood, quite out of thequestion. Any such fallen treasure--and half the things thrown do fallshort of the hands for which they are meant--becomes the instant prey ofthe small boys who throng the streets, and are constantly on thelook-out for such windfalls around the carriages.
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