zanoni- 第7部分

know　what　the　illustrious　Giardini　said　when　the　tyro　asked　how

long　it　would　take　to　learn　to　play　on　the　violin？　　Hear；　and

despair；　ye　who　would　bend　the　bow　to　which　that　of　Ulysses　was　a

plaything；　〃Twelve　hours　a　day　for　twenty　years　together！〃　　Can　a

man；　then；　who　plays　the　barbiton　be　always　playing　also　with　his

little　ones？　　No；　Pisani；　often；　with　the　keen　susceptibility　of

childhood；　poor　Viola　had　stolen　from　the　room　to　weep　at　the

thought　that　thou　didst　not　love　her。　　And　yet；　underneath　this

outward　abstraction　of　the　artist；　the　natural　fondness　flowed

all　the　same；　and　as　she　grew　up；　the　dreamer　had　understood　the

dreamer。　　And　now；　shut　out　from　all　fame　himself；　to　be

forbidden　to　hail　even　his　daughter's　fame！and　that　daughter

herself　to　be　in　the　conspiracy　against　him！　　Sharper　than　the

serpent's　tooth　was　the　ingratitude；　and　sharper　than　the

serpent's　tooth　was　the　wail　of　the　pitying　barbiton！



The　eventful　hour　is　come。　　Viola　is　gone　to　the　theatre；her

mother　with　her。　　The　indignant　musician　remains　at　home。

Gionetta　bursts　into　the　room：　　my　Lord　Cardinal's　carriage　is　at

the　door；the　Padrone　is　sent　for。　　He　must　lay　aside　his

violin；　he　must　put　on　his　brocade　coat　and　his　lace　ruffles。

Here　they　are；quick；　quick！　　And　quick　rolls　the　gilded　coach；

and　majestic　sits　the　driver；　and　statelily　prance　the　steeds。

Poor　Pisani　is　lost　in　a　mist　of　uncomfortable　amaze。　　He　arrives

at　the　theatre；　he　descends　at　the　great　door；　he　turns　round　and

round；　and　looks　about　him　and　about：　　he　misses　something；

where　is　the　violin？　　Alas！　his　soul；　his　voice；　his　self　of

self；　is　left　behind！　　It　is　but　an　automaton　that　the　lackeys

conduct　up　the　stairs；　through　the　tier；　into　the　Cardinal's　box。

　But　then；　what　bursts　upon　him！　　Does　he　dream？　　The　first　act

is　over　（they　did　not　send　for　him　till　success　seemed　no　longer

doubtful）；　the　first　act　has　decided　all。　　He　feels　THAT　by　the

electric　sympathy　which　ever　the　one　heart　has　at　once　with　a

vast　audience。　　He　feels　it　by　the　breathless　stillness　of　that

multitude；　he　feels　it　even　by　the　lifted　finger　of　the　Cardinal。

　He　sees　his　Viola　on　the　stage；　radiant　in　her　robes　and　gems；

he　hears　her　voice　thrilling　through　the　single　heart　of　the

thousands！　　But　the　scene；　the　part；　the　music！　　It　is　his　other

child；his　immortal　child；　the　spirit…infant　of　his　soul；　his

darling　of　many　years　of　patient　obscurity　and　pining　genius；　his

masterpiece；　his　opera　of　the　Siren！



This；　then；　was　the　mystery　that　had　so　galled　him；this　the

cause　of　the　quarrel　with　the　Cardinal；　this　the　secret　not　to　be

proclaimed　till　the　success　was　won；　and　the　daughter　had　united

her　father's　triumph　with　her　own！

And　there　she　stands；　as　all　souls　bow　before　her；fairer　than

the　very　Siren　he　had　called　from　the　deeps　of　melody。　　Oh；　long

and　sweet　recompense　of　toil！　　Where　is　on　earth　the　rapture　like

that　which　is　known　to　genius　when　at　last　it　bursts　from　its

hidden　cavern　into　light　and　fame！



He　did　not　speak；　he　did　not　move；　he　stood　transfixed；

breathless；　the　tears　rolling　down　his　cheeks；　only　from　time　to

time　his　hands　still　wandered　about；mechanically　they　sought

for　the　faithful　instrument；　why　was　it　not　there　to　share　his

triumph？



At　last　the　curtain　fell；　but　on　such　a　storm　and　diapason　of

applause！　　Up　rose　the　audience　as　one　man；　as　with　one　voice

that　dear　name　was　shouted。　　She　came　on；　trembling；　pale；　and　in

the　whole　crowd　saw　but　her　father's　face。　　The　audience　followed

those　moistened　eyes；　they　recognised　with　a　thrill　the

daughter's　impulse　and　her　meaning。　　The　good　old　Cardinal　drew

him　gently　forward。　　Wild　musician；　thy　daughter　has　given　thee

back　more　than　the　life　thou　gavest！



〃My　poor　violin！〃　said　he；　wiping　his　eyes；　〃they　will　never　hiss

thee　again　now！〃







CHAPTER　1。III。



Fra　si　contrarie　tempre　in　ghiaccio　e　in　foco；

In　riso　e　in　pianto；　e　fra　paura　e　speme

L'ingannatrice　Donna

〃Gerusal。　Lib。；〃　cant。　iv。　xciv。



（Between　such　contrarious　mixtures　of　ice　and　fire；　laughter　and

tears；fear　and　hope；　the　deceiving　dame。）



Now　notwithstanding　the　triumph　both　of　the　singer　and　the　opera；

there　had　been　one　moment　in　the　first　act；　and；　consequently；

BEFORE　the　arrival　of　Pisani；　when　the　scale　seemed　more　than

doubtful。　　It　was　in　a　chorus　replete　with　all　the　peculiarities

of　the　composer。　　And　when　the　Maelstrom　of　Capricci　whirled　and

foamed；　and　tore　ear　and　sense　through　every　variety　of　sound；

the　audience　simultaneously　recognised　the　hand　of　Pisani。　　A

title　had　been　given　to　the　opera　which　had　hitherto　prevented

all　suspicion　of　its　parentage；　and　the　overture　and　opening；　in

which　the　music　had　been　regular　and　sweet；　had　led　the　audience

to　fancy　they　detected　the　genius　of　their　favourite　Paisiello。

Long　accustomed　to　ridicule　and　almost　to　despise　the　pretensions

of　Pisani　as　a　composer；　they　now　felt　as　if　they　had　been　unduly

cheated　into　the　applause　with　which　they　had　hailed　the　overture

and　the　commencing　scenas。　　An　ominous　buzz　circulated　round　the

house：　　the　singers；　the　orchestra；electrically　sensitive　to

the　impression　of　the　audience；grew；　themselves；　agitated　and

dismayed；　and　failed　in　the　energy　and　precision　which　could

alone　carry　off　the　grotesqueness　of　the　music。



There　are　always　in　every　theatre　many　rivals　to　a　new　author　and

a　new　performer；a　party　impotent　while　all　goes　well；　but　a

dangerous　ambush　the　instant　some　accident　throws　into　confusion

the　march　of　success。　　A　hiss　arose；　it　was　partial；　it　is　true；

but　the　significant　silence　of　all　applause　seemed　to　forebode

the　coming　moment　when　the　displeasure　would　grow　contagious。　　It

was　the　breath　that　stirred　the　impending　avalanche。　　At　that

critical　moment　Viola；　the　Siren　queen；　emerged　for　the　first

time　from　her　ocean　cave。　　As　she　came　forward　to　the　lamps；　the

novelty　of　her　situation；　the　chilling　apathy　of　the　audience；

which　even　the　sight　of　so　singular　a　beauty　did　not　at　the　first

arouse；the　whispers　of　the　malignant　singers　on　the　stage；　the

glare　of　the　lights；　and　morefar　more　than　the　restthat

recent　hiss；　which　had　reached　her　in　her　concealment；　all　froze

up　her　faculties　and　suspended　her　voice。　　And；　instead　of　the

grand　invocation　into　which　she　ought　rapidly　to　have　burst；　the

regal　Siren；　retransformed　into　the　trembling　girl；　stood　pale

and　mute　before　the　stern；　cold　array　of　those　countless　eyes。



At　that　instant；　and　when　consciousness　itself　seemed　about　to

fail　her；　as　she　turned　a　timid　beseeching　glance　around　the

still　multitude；　she　perceived；　in　a　box　near　the　stage；　a

countenance　which　at　once；　and　like　magic；　produced　on　her　mind

an　effect　never　to　be　analysed　nor　forgotten。　　It　was　one　that

awakened　an　indistinct；　haunting　reminiscence；　as　if　she　had　seen

it　in　those　day…dreams　she　had　been　so　wont　from　infancy　to

indulge。　　She　could　not　withdraw　her　gaze　from　that　face；　and　as

she　gazed；　the　awe　and　coldness　that　had　before　seized　her；

vanished　like　a　mist　from　before　the　sun。



In　the　dark　splendour　of　the　eyes　that　met　her　own　there　was

indeed　so　much　of　gentle　encouragement；　of　benign　and

compassionate　admiration；so　much　that　warmed；　and　animated；　and

nerved；that　any　one；　actor　or　orator；　who　has　ever　observed　the

effect　that　a　single　earnest　and　kindly　look　in　the　crowd　that　is

to　be　addressed　and　won；　will　produce　upon　his　mind；　may　readily

account　for　the　sudden　and　inspiriting　influence　which　the　eye

and　smile　of　the　stranger　exercised　on　the　debutante。



And　while　yet　she　gazed；　and　the　glow　returned　to　her　heart；　the

stranger　half　rose；　as　if　to　recall　the　audience　to　a　sense　of

the　courtesy　due　to　one　so　fair　and　young；　and　the　instant　his

voice　gave　the　signal；　the　audience　followed　it　by　a　burst　of

generous　applause。　　For　this　stranger　himself　was　a　marked

personage；　and　his　recent　arrival　at　Naples　had　divided　with　the

new　opera　the　gossip　of　the　city。　　And　then　as　the　applause

ceased；　clear；　full；　and　freed　from　every　fetter；　like　a　spirit

from　the　clay；　the　Siren's　voice　poured　forth　its　entrancing

music。　　From　that　time　Viola　forgot　the　crowd；　the　hazard；　the

whole　world；except　the　fairy　one　over　with　she　presided。　　It

seemed　that　the　stranger's　presence　only　served　still　more　to

heighten　that　delusion；　in　which　the　artist　sees　no　creation

without　the　circle　of　his　art；　she　felt　as　if　that　serene　brow；

and　those　brilliant　eyes；　inspired　her　with　powers　never　known

before：　　and；　as　if　searching　for　a　language　to　express　the

strange　sensations　occasioned　by　his　presence；　that　presence

itself　whispered　to　her　the　melody　and　the　song。



Only　when　all　was　over；　and　she　saw　her　father　and　felt　his　joy；

did　this　wild　spell　vanish　before　the　sweeter　one　of　the

household　and　filial　love。　　Yet　again；　as　she　turned　from　the

stage；　she　looked　back　involuntarily；　and　the　stranger's　calm　and

half…melancholy　smile　sank　into　her　heart；to　live　there；　to　be

recalled　with　confused　memories；　half　of　pleasure；　and　half　of

pain。



Pass　over　the　congratulations　of　the　good　Cardinal…Virtuoso；

astonished　at　finding　himself　and　all　Naples　had　been　hitherto　in

the　wrong　on　a　subject　of　taste；still　more　astonished　at

finding　himself　and　all　Naples　combining　to　confess　it；　pass　over

the　whispered　ecstasies　of　admiration　which　buzzed　in　the

singer's　ear；　as　once　more；　in　her　modest　veil　and　quiet　dress；

she　escaped　from　the　crowd　of　gallants　that　choked　up　every

avenue　behind　the　scenes；　pass　over　the　sweet　embrace　of　father

and　child；　returning　through　the　starlit　streets　and　along　the

deserted　Chiaja　in　the　Cardinal's　carriage；　never　pause　now　to

note　the　tears　and　ejaculations　of　the　good；　simple…hearted

mother；see　them　returned；　see　the　well…known　room；　venimus　ad

larem　nostrum　（We　come　to　our　own　h