The Marble Faun Volume 2 - Page 70/157

"Only this, dear Miriam," said the sculptor; "if ever in your lives

the highest duty should require from either of you the sacrifice of the

other, meet the occasion without shrinking. This is all."

While Kenyon spoke, Donatello had evidently taken in the ideas which he

propounded, and had ennobled them by the sincerity of his reception.

His aspect unconsciously assumed a dignity, which, elevating his former

beauty, accorded with the change that had long been taking place in his

interior self. He was a man, revolving grave and deep thoughts in his

breast. He still held Miriam's hand; and there they stood, the beautiful

man, the beautiful woman, united forever, as they felt, in the

presence of these thousand eye-witnesses, who gazed so curiously at the

unintelligible scene. Doubtless the crowd recognized them as lovers,

and fancied this a betrothal that was destined to result in lifelong

happiness. And possibly it might be so. Who can tell where happiness may

come; or where, though an expected guest, it may never show its face?

Perhaps--shy, subtle thing--it had crept into this sad marriage bond,

when the partners would have trembled at its presence as a crime.

"Farewell!" said Kenyon; "I go to Rome."

"Farewell, true friend!" said Miriam.

"Farewell!" said Donatello too. "May you be happy. You have no guilt to

make you shrink from happiness."

At this moment it so chanced that all the three friends by one impulse

glanced upward at the statue of Pope Julius; and there was the majestic

figure stretching out the hand of benediction over them, and bending

down upon this guilty and repentant pair its visage of grand benignity.

There is a singular effect oftentimes when, out of the midst of

engrossing thought and deep absorption, we suddenly look up, and catch a

glimpse of external objects. We seem at such moments to look farther and

deeper into them, than by any premeditated observation; it is as if they

met our eyes alive, and with all their hidden meaning on the surface,

but grew again inanimate and inscrutable the instant that they became

aware of our glances. So now, at that unexpected glimpse, Miriam,

Donatello, and the sculptor, all three imagined that they beheld the

bronze pontiff endowed with spiritual life. A blessing was felt

descending upon them from his outstretched hand; he approved by look and

gesture the pledge of a deep union that had passed under his auspices.