Part 29 (2/2)
It was, he could not be mistaken, and now followed the pair like a shadow, growing bolder and bolder the more angrily the cavalier rebuffed him with wrathful glances and harsh words; for the lady did not cease to signify that she recognized him and enjoyed his playing. But the n.o.bleman was not disposed to endure this offensive sport. Pausing in the middle of the square, he released his arm with a contemptuous gesture, saying: ”The lute-player, or I, my fair one; you can decide----”
The Venetian laughed loudly, laid her hand on Ulrich's arm and said: ”The rest of the Shrove-Tuesday night shall be yours, my merry singer.”
Ulrich joined in her gayety, and taking the lute from his neck, offered it to the cavalier, with a defiant gesture, exclaiming:
”It's at your disposal, Mask; we have changed parts. But please hold it firmer than you held your lady.” High play went on in the gaming hall; Claudia was lucky with the artist's gold.
At midnight the banker laid down the cards. It was Ash-Wednesday, the hall must be cleared; the quiet Lenten season had begun.
The players withdrew into the adjoining rooms, among them the much-envied couple.
Claudia threw herself upon a couch; Ulrich left her to procure a gondola.
As soon as he was gone, she was surrounded by a motley throng of suitors.
How the beautiful woman's dark eyes sparkled, how the gems on her full neck and dazzling arms glittered, how readily she uttered a witty repartee to each gay sally.
”Claudia unaccompanied!” cried a young n.o.ble. ”The strangest sight at this remarkable carnival!”
”I am fasting,” she answered gaily; ”and now that I long for meagre food, you come! What a lucky chance!”
”Heavy Grimani has also become a very light man, with your a.s.sistance.”
”That's why he flew away. Suppose you follow him?”
”Gladly, gladly, if you will accompany me.”
”Excuse me to-day; there comes my knight.”
Ulrich had remained absent a long time, but Claudia had not noticed it. Now he bowed to the gentlemen, offered her his arm, and as they descended the staircase, whispered: ”The mask who escorted you just now detained me;--and there... see, they are picking him up down there in the court-yard.--He attacked me....”
”You have--you....”
”'They came to his a.s.sistance immediately. He barred my way with his unsheathed blade.”
Claudia hastily drew her hand from the artist's arm, exclaiming in a low, anxious tone: ”Go, go, unhappy man, whoever you may be! It was Luigi Grimani; it was a Grimani! You are lost, if they find you. Go, if you love your life, go at once!”
So ended the Shrove-Tuesday, which had begun so gloriously for the young artist. t.i.tian's ”well done” no longer sounded cheerfully in his ears, the ”go, go,” of the venal woman echoed all the more loudly.
De Soto was waiting for him, to repeat to him the high praise he had heard bestowed upon his art-test at t.i.tian's; but Ulrich heard nothing, for he gave the secretary no time to speak, and the latter could only echo the beautiful Claudia's ”go, go!” and then smooth the way for his flight.
When the morning of Ash-Wednesday dawned cool and misty, Venice lay behind the young artist. Unpursued, but without finding rest or satisfaction, he went to Parma, Bologna, Pisa, Florence.
Grimani's death burdened his conscience but lightly. Duelling was a battle in miniature, to kill one's foe no crime, but a victory. Far different anxieties tortured him.
Venice, whither the ”word” had led him, from which he had hoped and expected everything, was lost to him, and with it t.i.tian's favor and Cagliari's instruction.
He began to doubt himself, his future, the sublime word and its magic spell. The greater the works which the traveller's eyes beheld, the more insignificant he felt, the more pitiful his own powers, his own skill appeared.
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