"You understand it as I meant: and now tell me, lovely Rosabella,
am I not indeed unfortunate?"
"And where, then, is the Elysium which you must never possess?"
"Where Rosabella is, there is indeed Elysium. You are not offended,
signora?" said Flodoardo, and took her hand with an air of
respectful tenderness. "Has this openness displeased you?"
"You are a native of Florence, Count Flodoardo. In Venice we
dislike this kind of compliment: at least I dislike them, and wish
to hear them from no one less than from you."
"By my life, signora, I spoke but as I thought! my words concealed
no flattery."
"See, the Doge enters the saloon with Manfrone and Lomellino: he
will seek us among the dancers. Come, let us join them."
Flodoardo followed her in silence. The dance began. Heavens! how
lovely looked Rosabella, as she glided along to the sweet sounds of
music, conducted by Flodoardo. How handsome looked Flodoardo, as,
lighter than air, he flew down the dance, while his brilliant eyes
saw no object but Rosabella.
He was still without his mask, and bareheaded: but every eye
glanced away from the helmets and barettes, waving with plumes, and
sparkling with jewels, to gaze on Flodoardo's raven locks, as they
floated on the air in wild luxuriance. A murmur of admiration rose
from every corner of the saloon, but it rose unmarked by those who
were the objects of it. Neither Rosabella nor Flodoardo at that
moment formed a wish to be applauded, except by each other.