Now first I began to feel that even successful love may have its
bitterness. A corroding care gathered about my heart. I moved about the
palace like a guilty being. I felt as if I had abused its
hospitality - as if I were a thief within its walls. I could no longer
look with unembarrassed mien in the countenance of the Count. I accused
myself of perfidy to him, and I thought he read it in my looks, and
began to distrust and despise me. His manner had always been
ostentatious and condescending, it now appeared cold and haughty.
Filippo, too, became reserved and distant; or at least I suspected him
to be so. Heavens! - was this mere coinage of my brain: was I to become
suspicious of all the world? - a poor surmising wretch; watching looks
and gestures; and torturing myself with misconstructions. Or if
true - was I to remain beneath a roof where I was merely tolerated, and
linger there on sufferance? "This is not to be endured!" exclaimed I;
"I will tear myself from this state of self-abasement; I will break
through this fascination and fly - Fly? - whither? - from the world? - for
where is the world when I leave Bianca behind me?"
My spirit was naturally proud, and swelled within me at the idea of
being looked upon with contumely. Many times I was on the point of
declaring my family and rank, and asserting my equality, in the
presence of Bianca, when I thought her relatives assumed an air of
superiority. But the feeling was transient. I considered myself
discarded and contemned by my family; and had solemnly vowed never to
own relationship to them, until they themselves should claim it.
The struggle of my mind preyed upon my happiness and my health. It
seemed as if the uncertainty of being loved would be less intolerable
than thus to be assured of it, and yet not dare to enjoy the
conviction. I was no longer the enraptured admirer of Bianca; I no
longer hung in ecstasy on the tones of her voice, nor drank in with
insatiate gaze the beauty of her countenance. Her very smiles ceased to
delight me, for I felt culpable in having won them.
She could not but be sensible of the change in me, and inquired the
cause with her usual frankness and simplicity. I could not evade the
inquiry, for my heart was full to aching. I told her all the conflict
of my soul; my devouring passion, my bitter self-upbraiding. "Yes!"
said I, "I am unworthy of you. I am an offcast from my family - a
wanderer - a nameless, homeless wanderer, with nothing but poverty for
my portion, and yet I have dared to love you - have dared to aspire to
your love!"
My agitation moved her to tears; but she saw nothing in my situation so
hopeless as I had depicted it.
