zanoni-第35部分

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crept　to　my　father's　side；　closeclose；　from　fear　of　my　own

thoughts。



〃Ah！　sweet　and　sad　was　the　morrow　to　that　night；　when　thy　lips

warned　me　of　the　future。　　An　orphan　now；what　is　there　that

lives　for　me　to　think　of；　to　dream　upon；　to　revere；　but　thou！



〃How　tenderly　thou　hast　rebuked　me　for　the　grievous　wrong　that　my

thoughts　did　thee！　　Why　should　I　have　shuddered　to　feel　thee

glancing　upon　my　thoughts　like　the　beam　on　the　solitary　tree；　to

which　thou　didst　once　liken　me　so　well？　　It　wasit　was；　that；

like　the　tree；　I　struggled　for　the　light；　and　the　light　came。

They　tell　me　of　love；　and　my　very　life　of　the　stage　breathes　the

language　of　love　into　my　lips。　　No；　again　and　again；　I　know　THAT

is　not　the　love　that　I　feel　for　thee！it　is　not　a　passion；　it　is

a　thought！　　I　ask　not　to　be　loved　again。　　I　murmur　not　that　thy

words　are　stern　and　thy　looks　are　cold。　　I　ask　not　if　I　have

rivals；　I　sigh　not　to　be　fair　in　thine　eyes。　　It　is　my　SPIRIT

that　would　blend　itself　with　thine。　　I　would　give　worlds；　though

we　were　apart；　though　oceans　rolled　between　us；　to　know　the　hour

in　which　thy　gaze　was　lifted　to　the　stars；in　which　thy　heart

poured　itself　in　prayer。　　They　tell　me　thou　art　more　beautiful

than　the　marble　images　that　are　fairer　than　all　human　forms；　but

I　have　never　dared　to　gaze　steadfastly　on　thy　face；　that　memory

might　compare　thee　with　the　rest。　　Only　thine　eyes　and　thy　soft；

calm　smile　haunt　me；　as　when　I　look　upon　the　moon；　all　that

passes　into　my　heart　is　her　silent　light。



。。。



〃Often；　when　the　air　is　calm；　I　have　thought　that　I　hear　the

strains　of　my　father's　music；　often；　though　long　stilled　in　the

grave；　have　they　waked　me　from　the　dreams　of　the　solemn　night。

Methinks；　ere　thou　comest　to　me　that　I　hear　them　herald　thy

approach。　　Methinks　I　hear　them　wail　and　moan；　when　I　sink　back

into　myself　on　seeing　thee　depart。　　Thou　art　OF　that　music；its

spirit；　its　genius。　　My　father　must　have　guessed　at　thee　and　thy

native　regions；　when　the　winds　hushed　to　listen　to　his　tones；　and

the　world　deemed　him　mad！　　I　hear　where　I　sit；　the　far　murmur　of

the　sea。　　Murmur　on；　ye　blessed　waters！　　The　waves　are　the　pulses

of　the　shore。　　They　beat　with　the　gladness　of　the　morning　wind；

so　beats　my　heart　in　the　freshness　and　light　that　make　up　the

thoughts　of　thee！



。。。



〃Often　in　my　childhood　I　have　mused　and　asked　for　what　I　was

born；　and　my　soul　answered　my　heart　and　said；　'THOU　WERT　BORN　TO

WORSHIP！'　　Yes；　I　know　why　the　real　world　has　ever　seemed　to　me

so　false　and　cold。　　I　know　why　the　world　of　the　stage　charmed　and

dazzled　me。　　I　know　why　it　was　so　sweet　to　sit　apart　and　gaze　my

whole　being　into　the　distant　heavens。　　My　　nature　is　not　formed

for　this　life；　happy　though　that　life　seem　to　others。　　It　is　its

very　want　to　have　ever　before　it　some　image　loftier　than　itself！

　Stranger；　in　what　realm　above；　when　the　grave　is　past；　shall　my

soul；　hour　after　hour；　worship　at　the　same　source　as　thine？



。。。



〃In　the　gardens　of　my　neighbour　there　is　a　small　fountain。　　I

stood　by　it　this　morning　after　sunrise。　　How　it　sprung　up；　with

its　eager　spray；　to　the　sunbeams！　　And　then　I　thought　that　I

should　see　thee　again　this　day；　and　so　sprung　my　heart　to　the　new

morning　which　thou　bringest　me　from　the　skies。



。。。



〃I　HAVE　seen；　I　have　LISTENED　to　thee　again。　　How　bold　I　have

become！　　I　ran　on　with　my　childlike　thoughts　and　stories；　my

recollections　of　the　past；　as　if　I　had　known　thee　from　an　infant。

Suddenly　the　idea　of　my　presumption　struck　me。　　I　stopped；　and

timidly　sought　thine　eyes。



〃'Well；　and　when　you　found　that　the　nightingale　refused　to

sing？'



〃'Ah！'　I　said；　'what　to　thee　this　history　of　the　heart　of　a

child？'



〃'Viola；'　didst　thou　answer；　with　that　voice；　so　inexpressibly

calm　and　earnest！'Viola；　the　darkness　of　a　child's　heart　is

often　but　the　shadow　of　a　star。　　Speak　on！　　And　thy　nightingale；

when　they　caught　and　caged　it；　refused　to　sing？'



〃'And　I　placed　the　cage　yonder；　amidst　the　vine…leaves；　and　took

up　my　lute；　and　spoke　to　it　on　the　strings；　for　I　thought　that

all　music　was　its　native　language；　and　it　would　understand　that　I

sought　to　comfort　it。'



〃'Yes；'　saidst　thou。　　'And　at　last　it　answered　thee；　but　not　with

song；in　a　sharp；　brief　cry；　so　mournful；　that　thy　hands　let

fall　the　lute；　and　the　tears　gushed　from　thine　eyes。　　So　softly

didst　thou　unbar　the　cage；　and　the　nightingale　flew　into　yonder

thicket；　and　thou　heardst　the　foliage　rustle；　and；　looking

through　the　moonlight；　thine　eyes　saw　that　it　had　found　its　mate。

It　sang　to　thee　then　from　the　boughs　a　long；　loud；　joyous

jubilee。　　And　musing；　thou　didst　feel　that　it　was　not　the　vine…

leaves　or　the　moonlight　that　made　the　bird　give　melody　to　night；

and　that　the　secret　of　its　music　was　the　presence　of　a　thing

beloved。'



〃How　didst　thou　know　my　thoughts　in　that　childlike　time　better

than　I　knew　myself！　　How　is　the　humble　life　of　my　past　years；

with　its　mean　events；　so　mysteriously　familiar　to　thee；　bright

stranger！　　I　wonder；but　I　do　not　again　dare　to　fear　thee！



。。。



〃Once　the　thought　of　him　oppressed　and　weighed　me　down。　　As　an

infant　that　longs　for　the　moon；　my　being　was　one　vague　desire　for

something　never　to　be　attained。　　Now　I　feel　rather　as　if　to　think

of　thee　sufficed　to　remove　every　fetter　from　my　spirit。　　I　float

in　the　still　seas　of　light；　and　nothing　seems　too　high　for　my

wings；　too　glorious　for　my　eyes。　　It　was　mine　ignorance　that　made

me　fear　thee。　　A　knowledge　that　is　not　in　books　seems　to　breathe

around　thee　as　an　atmosphere。　　How　little　have　I　read！how

little　have　I　learned！　　Yet　when　thou　art　by　my　side；　it　seems　as

if　the　veil　were　lifted　from　all　wisdom　and　all　Nature。　　I

startle　when　I　look　even　at　the　words　I　have　written；　they　seem

not　to　come　from　myself；　but　are　the　signs　of　another　language

which　thou　hast　taught　my　heart；　and　which　my　hand　traces

rapidly；　as　at　thy　dictation。　　Sometimes；　while　I　write　or　muse；

I　could　fancy　that　I　heard　light　wings　hovering　around　me；　and

saw　dim　shapes　of　beauty　floating　round；　and　vanishing　as　they

smiled　upon　me。　　No　unquiet　and　fearful　dream　ever　comes　to　me

now　in　sleep；　yet　sleep　and　waking　are　alike　but　as　one　dream。

In　sleep　I　wander　with　thee；　not　through　the　paths　of　earth；　but

through　impalpable　airan　air　which　seems　a　musicupward　and

upward；　as　the　soul　mounts　on　the　tones　of　a　lyre！　　Till　I　knew

thee；　I　was　as　a　slave　to　the　earth。　　Thou　hast　given　to　me　the

liberty　of　the　universe！　　Before；　it　was　life；　it　seems　to　me　now

as　if　I　had　commenced　eternity！



。。。



〃Formerly；　when　I　was　to　appear　upon　the　stage；　my　heart　beat

more　loudly。　　I　trembled　to　encounter　the　audience；　whose　breath

gave　shame　or　renown；　and　now　I　have　no　fear　of　them。　　I　see

them；　heed　them；　hear　them　not！　　I　know　that　there　will　be　music

in　my　voice；　for　it　is　a　hymn　that　I　pour　to　thee。　　Thou　never

comest　to　the　theatre；　and　that　no　longer　grieves　me。　　Thou　art

become　too　sacred　to　appear　a　part　of　the　common　world；　and　I

feel　glad　that　thou　art　not　by　when　crowds　have　a　right　to　judge

me。



。。。



〃And　he　spoke　to　me　of　ANOTHER：　　to　another　he　would　consign　me！

No；　it　is　not　love　that　I　feel　for　thee；　Zanoni；　or　why　did　I

hear　thee　without　anger；　why　did　thy　command　seem　to　me　not　a

thing　impossible？　　As　the　strings　of　the　instrument　obey　the　hand

of　the　master；　thy　look　modulates　the　wildest　chords　of　my　heart

to　thy　will。　　If　it　please　thee；yes；　let　it　be　so。　　Thou　art

lord　of　my　destinies；　they　cannot　rebel　against　thee！　　I　almost

think　I　could　love　him；　whoever　it　be；　on　whom　thou　wouldst　shed

the　rays　that　circumfuse　thyself。　　Whatever　thou　hast　touched；　I

love；　whatever　thou　speakest　of；　I　love。　　Thy　hand　played　with

these　vine　leaves；　I　wear　them　in　my　bosom。　　Thou　seemest　to　me

the　source　of　all　love；　too　high　and　too　bright　to　be　loved

thyself；　but　darting　light　into　other　objects；　on　which　the　eye

can　gaze　less　dazzled。　　No；　no；　it　is　not　love　that　I　feel　for

thee；　and　therefore　it　is　that　I　do　not　blush　to　nourish　and

confess　it。　　Shame　on　me　if　I　loved；　knowing　myself　so　worthless

a　thing　to　thee！



。。。



〃ANOTHER！my　memory　echoes　back　that　word。　　Another！　　Dost　thou

mean　that　I　shall　see　thee　no　more？　　It　is　not　sadness；it　is

not　despair　that　seizes　me。　　I　cannot　weep。　　It　is　an　utter　sense

of　desolation。　　I　am　plunged　back　into　the　common　life；　and　I

shudder　coldly　at　the　solitude。　　But　I　will　obey　thee；　if　thou

wilt。　　Shall　I　not　see　thee　again　beyond　the　grave？　　O　how　sweet

it　were　to　die！



〃Why　do　I　not　struggle　from　the　web　in　which　my　will　is　thus

entangled？　　Hast　thou　a　right　to　dispose　of　me　thus？　　Give　me

backgive　me　back　the　life　I　knew　before　I　gave　life　itself　away

to　thee。　　Give　me　back　the　careless　dreams　of　my　youth；…my

liberty　of　heart　that　sung　aloud　as　it　walked　the　earth。　　Thou

hast　disenc