Rosabella.--You say right, Camilla. I really believe myself that my
prepossession in Flodoardo's favour is merely an accidental fancy,
of which I shall easily get the better. No, no; I am not in love
with Flodoardo--of that you may rest assured. I even think that I
rather feel an antipathy towards him, since you have shown me the
possibility of his making me prove a cause of uneasiness to my kind,
my excellent uncle.
Camilla (smiling).--Are your sentiments of duty and gratitude so
very strong?
Rosabella.--Oh, that they are, Camilla; and so you will say yourself
hereafter. This disagreeable Flodoardo--to give me so much
vexation! I wish he had never come to Venice. I declare I do not
like him at all.
Camilla.--No--what! Not like Flodoardo?
Rosabella (casting down her eyes).--No, not at all. Not that I wish
him ill, either, for you know, Camilla, there's no reason why I
should hate this poor Flodoardo!
Camilla.--Well, we will resume this subject when I return. I have
business, and the gondola waits for me. Farewell, my child; and do
not lay aside your resolution as hastily as you took it up.
Camilla departed, and Rosabella remained melancholy and uncertain.
She built castles in the air, and destroyed them as soon as built.
She formed wishes, and condemned herself for having formed them.
She looked round her frequently in search of something, but dared
not confess to herself what it was of which she was in search.
The evening was sultry, and Rosabella was compelled to shelter
herself from the sun's overpowering heat. In the garden was a small
fountain, bordered by a bank of moss, over which the magic hands of
art and nature had formed a canopy of ivy and jessamine. Thither
she bent her steps. She arrived at the fountain, and instantly drew
back, covered with blushes, for on the bank of moss, shaded by the
protecting canopy, whose waving blossoms were reflected on the
fountain, Flodoardo was seated, and fixed his eyes on a roll of
parchment.
Rosabella hesitated whether she should retire or stay. Flodoardo
started from his place, apparently in no less confusion than
herself, and relieved her from her indecision by taking her hand
with respect, and conducting her to the seat which he had just
quitted.
Now, then, she could not possibly retire immediately, unless she
meant to violate every common principle of good breeding.
Her hand was still clasped in Flodoardo's; but it was so natural for
him to take it, that she could not blame him for having done so.
But what was she next to do? Draw her hand away? Why should she,
since he did her hand no harm by keeping it, and the keeping it
seemed to make him so happy? And how could the gentle Rosabella
resolve to commit an act of such unheard-of cruelty as wilfully to
deprive any one of a pleasure which made him so happy, and which did
herself no harm?