I had heard much of her beauty from
Filippo, but my fancy had become so engrossed by one idea of beauty as
not to admit of any other. We were in the central saloon of the villa
when she arrived. She was still in mourning, and approached, leaning on
the Count's arm. As they ascended the marble portico, I was struck by
the elegance of her figure and movement, by the grace with which the
mezzaro, the bewitching veil of Genoa, was folded about her slender
form.
They entered. Heavens! what was my surprise when I beheld Bianca before
me. It was herself; pale with grief; but still more matured in
loveliness than when I had last beheld her. The time that had elapsed
had developed the graces of her person; and the sorrow she had
undergone had diffused over her countenance an irresistible tenderness.
She blushed and trembled at seeing me, and tears rushed into her eyes,
for she remembered in whose company she had been accustomed to behold
me. For my part, I cannot express what were my emotions. By degrees I
overcame the extreme shyness that had formerly paralyzed me in her
presence. We were drawn together by sympathy of situation. We had each
lost our best friend in the world; we were each, in some measure thrown
upon the kindness of others.
