按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
balm upon the wounds of the unfortunate man：
〃Monsieur；〃 she said； 〃as for your pecuniary distress； permit me to
offer you my savings。 My father is rich； I am his only child； he loves
me； and I am sure he will never blame me。 Have no scruple in accepting
my offer； our property is derived from the Emperor； we do not own a
penny that is not the result of his munificence。 Is it not gratitude
to him to assist his faithful soldiers？ Take the sums you need as
indifferently as I offer them。 It is only money！〃 she added； in a tone
of contempt。 〃Now； as for friends；those you shall have。〃
She raised her head proudly； and her eyes shone with dazzling
brilliancy。
〃The head which falls to…morrow before a dozen muskets will save
yours；〃 she went on。 〃Wait till the storm is over； you can then escape
and take service in foreign countries if you are not forgotten here；
or in the French army； if you are。〃
In the comfort that women give there is always a delicacy which has
something maternal； foreseeing； and complete about it。 But when the
words of hope and peace are said with grace of gesture and that
eloquence of tone which comes from the heart； and when； above all； the
benefactress is beautiful； a young man does not resist。 The prisoner
breathed in love through all his senses。 A rosy tinge colored his
white cheeks； his eyes lost something of the sadness that dulled them；
and he said； in a peculiar tone of voice：
〃You are an angle of goodness But Labedoyere！〃 he added。 〃Oh；
Labedoyere！〃
At this cry they all three looked at one another in silence； each
comprehending the others' thoughts。 No longer friends of twenty
minutes only； they were friends of twenty years。
〃Dear friend；〃 said Servin； 〃can you save him？〃
〃I can avenge him。〃
Ginevra quivered。 Though the stranger was handsome； his appearance had
not influenced her； the soft pity in a woman's heart for miseries that
are not ignoble had stifled in Ginevra all other emotions； but to hear
a cry of vengeance； to find in that proscribed being an Italian soul；
devotion to Napoleon； Corsican generosity！ah！ that was； indeed； too
much for her。 She looked at the officer with a respectful emotion
which shook his heart。 For the first time in her life a man had caused
her a keen emotion。 She now； like other women； put the soul of the
stranger on a par with the noble beauty of his features and the happy
proportions of his figure； which she admired as an artist。 Led by
accidental curiosity to pity； from pity to a powerful interest； she
came； through that interest； to such profound sensations that she felt
she was in danger if she stayed there longer。
〃Until to…morrow； then；〃 she said； giving the officer a gentle smile
by way of a parting consolation。
Seeing that smile； which threw a new light on Ginevra's features； the
stranger forgot all else for an instant。
〃To…morrow；〃 he said； sadly； 〃but to…morrow； Labedoyere〃
Ginevra turned； put a finger on her lips； and looked at him； as if to
say： 〃Be calm； be prudent。〃
And the young man cried out in his own language：
〃Ah！ Dio！ che non vorrei vivere dopo averla veduta？who would not
wish to live after seeing her？〃
The peculiar accent with which he pronounced the words made Ginevra
quiver。
〃Are you Corsican？〃 she cried； returning toward him with a beating
heart。
〃I was born in Corsica；〃 he replied； 〃but I was brought； while very
young； to Genoa； and as soon as I was old enough for military service
I enlisted。〃
The beauty of the young man； the mighty charm lent to him by his
attachment to the Emperor； his wound； his misfortunes； his danger； all
disappeared to Ginevra's mind； or； rather； all were blended in one
sentiment；a new and delightful sentiment。 This persecuted man was a
child of Corsica； he spoke its cherished language！ She stood； for a
moment； motionless； held by a magical sensation； before her eyes was a
living picture； to which all human sentiments； united by chance； gave
vivid colors。 By Servin's invitation； the officer had seated himself
on a divan； and the painter； after removing the sling which supported
the arm of his guest； was undoing the bandages in order to dress the
wound。 Ginevra shuddered when she saw the long； broad gash made by the
blade of a sabre on the young man's forearm； and a moan escaped her。
The stranger raised his head and smiled to her。 There was something
touching which went to the soul； in the care with which Servin lifted
the lint and touched the lacerated flesh； while the face of the
wounded man； though pale and sickly； expressed； as he looked at the
girl； more pleasure than suffering。 An artist would have admired；
involuntarily； this opposition of sentiments； together with the
contrasts produced by the whiteness of the linen and the bared arm to
the red and blue uniform of the officer。
At this moment a soft half…light pervaded the studio； but a parting
ray of the evening sunlight suddenly illuminated the spot where the
soldier sat； so that his noble； blanched face； his black hair； and his
clothes were bathed in its glow。 The effect was simple enough； but to
the girl's Italian imagination it was a happy omen。 The stranger
seemed to her a celestial messenger； speaking the language of her own
country。 He thus unconsciously put her under the spell of childhood's
memories； while in her heart there dawned another feeling as fresh； as
pure as her own innocence。 For a short； very short moment； she was
motionless and dreamy； as though she were plunged in boundless
thought。 Then she blushed at having allowed her absorption to be
noticed； exchanged one soft and rapid glance with the wounded man； and
fled with the vision of him still before her eyes。
The next day was not a class…day； but Ginevra came to the studio； and
the prisoner was free to sit beside her easel。 Servin； who had a
sketch to finish； played the part of mentor to the two young people；
who talked to each other chiefly in Corsican。 The soldier related the
sufferings of the retreat from Moscow； for； at nineteen years of age；
he had made the passage of the Beresins； and was almost the last man
left of his regiment。 He described； in words of fire； the great
disaster of Waterloo。 His voice was music itself to the Italian girl。
Brought up as a Corsican； Ginevra was； in some sense； a child of
Nature； falseness was a thing unknown to her； she gave herself up
without reserve to her impressions； she acknowledged them； or； rather；
allowed them to be seen without the affectations of petty and
calculating coquetry； characteristic of Parisian girlhood。 During this
day she sat more than once with her palette in one hand； her brushes
in another； without touching a color。 With her eyes fastened on the
officer； and her lips slightly apart； she listened； in the attitude of
painting a stroke which was never painted。 She was not surprised to
see such softness in the eyes of the young man； fo