I informed my readers, in the beginning of the last chapter, that
Flodoardo was become melancholy, and that Rosabella was indisposed,
but I did not tell them what had occasioned this sudden change.
Flodoardo, who on his first arrival at Venice was all gaiety, and
the life of every society in which he mingled, lost his spirits on
one particular day; and it so happened that it was on the very same
day that Rosabella betrayed the first symptoms of indisposition.
For on this unlucky day did the caprice of accident, or perhaps the
Goddess of Love (who has her caprices too every now and then),
conduct Rosabella into her uncle's garden, which none but the Doge's
intimate friends were permitted to enter; and where the Doge himself
frequently reposed in solitude and silence during the evening hours
of a sultry day.
Rosabella, lost in thought, wandered listless and unconscious along
the broad and shady alleys of the garden. Sometimes, in a moment of
vexation, she plucked the unoffending leaves from the hedges and
strewed them upon the ground; sometimes she stopped suddenly, then
rushed forward with impetuosity, then again stood still, and gazed
upon the clear blue heaven. Sometimes her beautiful bosom was
heaved with quick and irregular motion, and sometimes a half-
suppressed sigh escaped from her lips of coral.
"He is very handsome!" she murmured, and gazed with such eagerness
on vacancy, as though she had there seen something which was hidden
from the sight of common observers.
"Yet Camilla is in the right," she resumed, after a pause, and she
frowned as had she said that Camilla was in the wrong.
This Camilla was her governess, her friend, her confidante, I may
almost say her mother. Rosabella had lost her parents early. Her
mother died when her child could scarcely lisp her name; and her
father, Guiscardo of Corfu, the commander of a Venetian vessel,
eight years before had perished in an engagement with the Turks,
while he was still in the prime of life. Camilla, one of the
worthiest creatures that ever dignified the name of woman, supplied
to Rosabella the place of mother, had brought her up from infancy,
and was now her best friend, and the person to whose ear she
confided all her little secrets.
While Rosabella was still buried in her own reflections, the
excellent Camilla advanced from a side path, and hastened to join
her pupil. Rosabella started.
Rosabella.--Ah! dear Camilla, is it you? What brings you hither?
Camilla.--You often call me your guardian angel, and guardian angels
should always be near the object of their care.