Why, Oh, Why Is This Budding Season Of Life And Love So
Transient - Why Is This Rosy Cloud Of Love That Sheds Such A Glow Over
The Morning Of Our Days So Prone To Brew Up Into The Whirlwind And The
Storm!
I was the first to awaken from this blissful delirium of the
affections.
I had gained Bianca's heart: what was I to do with it? I
had no wealth nor prospects to entitle me to her hand. Was I to take
advantage of her ignorance of the world, of her confiding affection,
and draw her down to my own poverty? Was this requiting the hospitality
of the Count? - was this requiting the love of Bianca?
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.
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