Rosabella.--You say right, Camilla. I really believe myself that my prepossession in Flodoardo's favour is merely an accidental fancy, of which I shall easily get the better. No, no; I am not in love with Flodoardo--of that you may rest assured. I even think that Irather feel an antipathy towards him, since you have shown me the possibility of his making me prove a cause of uneasiness to my kind, my excellent uncle.
Camilla (smiling).--Are your sentiments of duty and gratitude so very strong?
Rosabella.--Oh, that they are, Camilla; and so you will say yourself hereafter. This disagreeable Flodoardo--to give me so much vexation! I wish he had never come to Venice. I declare I do not like him at all.
Camilla.--No--what! Not like Flodoardo?
Rosabella (casting down her eyes).--No, not at all. Not that I wish him ill, either, for you know, Camilla, there's no reason why Ishould hate this poor Flodoardo!
Camilla.--Well, we will resume this subject when I return. I have business, and the gondola waits for me. Farewell, my child; and do not lay aside your resolution as hastily as you took it up.
Camilla departed, and Rosabella remained melancholy and uncertain.
She built castles in the air, and destroyed them as soon as built.
She formed wishes, and condemned herself for having formed them.
She looked round her frequently in search of something, but dared not confess to herself what it was of which she was in search.
The evening was sultry, and Rosabella was compelled to shelter herself from the sun's overpowering heat. In the garden was a small fountain, bordered by a bank of moss, over which the magic hands of art and nature had formed a canopy of ivy and jessamine. Thither she bent her steps. She arrived at the fountain, and instantly drew back, covered with blushes, for on the bank of moss, shaded by the protecting canopy, whose waving blossoms were reflected on the fountain, Flodoardo was seated, and fixed his eyes on a roll of parchment.
Rosabella hesitated whether she should retire or stay. Flodoardo started from his place, apparently in no less confusion than herself, and relieved her from her indecision by taking her hand with respect, and conducting her to the seat which he had just quitted.
Now, then, she could not possibly retire immediately, unless she meant to violate every common principle of good breeding.
Her hand was still clasped in Flodoardo's; but it was so natural for him to take it, that she could not blame him for having done so.
But what was she next to do? Draw her hand away? Why should she, since he did her hand no harm by keeping it, and the keeping it seemed to make him so happy? And how could the gentle Rosabella resolve to commit an act of such unheard-of cruelty as wilfully to deprive any one of a pleasure which made him so happy, and which did herself no harm?
"Signora," said Flodoardo, merely for the sake of saying something, "you do well to enjoy the open air. The evening is beautiful.""But I interrupt your studies, my lord," said Rosabella.
"By no means," answered Flodoardo; and there this interesting conversation came to a full stop. Both looked down; both examined the heaven and the earth, the trees and the flowers, in the hopes of finding some hints for renewing the conversation; but the more anxiously they sought them, the more difficult did it seem to find what they sought; and in this painful embarrassment did two whole precious minutes elapse.