THE FOOL ERRANT - World eBook Library - World Public Library

I said, "My poor youth, you are putting upon me more than I can bear—or rather you are putting a fresh weight upon Virginia.
If by her I can be redeemed, and by me only you can be redeemed, then that untried girl is charged with the redemption of both
of us—a singular tax for one whose redemption was originally my own care."
He agreed with me that the position was unusual, but affirmed with energy that he had truly stated it so far as he was concerned.
"I owe you, sir," he said, "the dearest thing a lad can possess, which is his self-respect restored, his courage reborn. In the light
of your approbation I can face even my miserable trade and hope to grow up as I should. If you cast me off I am undone——
"after which, as I made no immediate reply, with a pretty gesture, as of a girl wheedling for a favour, he touched my cheek with
his hand and begged me to take him with me to Arezzo. I told him I would consider of it; but made no promise.
CHAPTER XXXVI. MY UNREHEARSED EFFECT AND ITS MIDNIGHT SEQUEL
I do not know whether any other man in the world has been so unfortunate as I in making resolutions and finding opportunities
to break them, but I am persuaded none can have made more abundant use of his occasions. My only consolation is that my
performances have been exemplary, since punishment has ever followed hot-foot upon the offence.
Let it be observed that on the eve of my public appearance upon the scene in Siena with the rest of the company, I was
resolved, and had fortified myself with a solemn vow to the Madonna of Provenzano, to return to Virginia's side and act, if I did
not feel, the part of her faithful and assiduous husband. Never mind whether I believed this to be due to Aurelia, and that it was
the strongest testimony I could give her of my love—this did not, in my opinion, make me disloyal to my wife, because the very
act of pleasing her involved the putting out of mind that dear mistress of my heart. My resolution was indeed my final offering at
the shrine of mystical love; it was to be an act comparable with Dante's—who, loving Beatrice, married Germma Donati, and
proved the reality of his tie by making her the mother of many children. It will readily be believed, I suppose, that so fine a
proposition made me enthusiastic, that I was impatient for the moment when I could put it into practice, recover Virginia, press
her to my bosom and cherish her as so beautiful and loving a girl deserved to be cherished; but it must be almost incredible to
every reader of my book that in one moment I could not only quench my own fire, but make it impossible to light it again. This,
however, is the plain state of the case.
In honour of the Grand Duke's birthday a great many festivities were preparing in Siena. The city was full of visitors, for a Palio
was to be run in the Campo, the Cardinal Archbishop of Florence was to celebrate pontifically in the cathedral, and our
company of actors—not because it was the best, but as being the only one available—was commanded to perform in the
theatre before the Podesta, the Gonfalonier and Senate, and all the representatives of Government, of the university, and of the
garrison. The whole of the boxes was bespoken, and our manager was given to understand that his expenses for this night were
guaranteed. As we had so far had very indifferent houses, it may be gathered that he looked upon this as the occasion of his
lifetime. We were put into vigorous rehearsal, and worked most of the day, besides playing at night. We were to give the
Artaserse, a tragedy of extreme length and magniloquence, and conclude with the Donne Furlane.
The night arrived; the theatre was full from parterre to gallery; the boxes presented a truly brilliant spectacle. The curtain went
up, and the play began.
I shall only say of Artaserse that La Panormita was the Aspasia of the piece, and Belviso the Berenice, her foster-sister and
companion. My role was that of the Messenger, and only gave me one long speech, recounting the miraculous preservation of
Artaspe and Spiridate, sons of King Artaserse and lovers of the two ladies; the treachery, discovery, and violent end of Dario
—in fact, the untying of the knot firmly twisted in the third act. The audience paid visits, talked, laughed, played faro, so far as I
could learn, throughout the play. Nor do I wonder at it, for not the finest acting in the world could have galvanised into life any
one link of its dreary chain. When the curtain was raised; however, upon the second piece, there was a perceptible settling
down to listen, behold, and be amused. Tragedy was the fashion, and must be endured, but all the Italians loved the masks.
The Donne Furlane was the piece, a comedy of art as they call it here— or, as we say, a comedy of masks—wherein the stock
characters of Harlequin, Columbine, Brighella and Pantalone are given a rag of a plot, and are expected to embroider that with
follies, drolleries and obscenities according as their humour of the moment may dictate. The persons who give the title to this
particular farce—the Donne Furlane— are the lowest class of Venetian women, and their ceremonious name implies what we in
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