Part 2 (1/2)
Then I smiled, thinking, I am no stranger to that mouth. I am no stranger to that mouth. Instantly I quashed the thought. Instantly I quashed the thought.
Too late.
”Why do you smile that way?” he asked.
I stood speechless, as I did not wish to lie to him. Yet the truth was deeply mortifying. He was a stranger! One whose impudence had made me stumble in the promenade.
”What? Suddenly mute?” he prodded. ”Inside, you chastised me. Now you refuse to speak.”
”I do not refuse,” I finally said. ”I simply wish to choose my words more carefully.”
”You needn't be careful with me,” he said with unexpected gentleness. ”I lived with sisters. I'm used to teasing them.” Then he went silent, his head tilting slightly, examining my face. He was quiet for a long while.
”Now you're the mute,” I accused.
He laughed, and the sound of it fluttered my heart. So sweet was it, I silently determined, that I must make this young man laugh again and again. Those eyes refused to release me from their locked grip. I wished desperately that my mother's handkerchief was not stuffed in my bodice.
The full lips moved and he said softly, ” 'I found her so full of natural dignity and admirable bearing she did not seem the daughter of an ordinary man, but rather a G.o.d.' ” ” 'I found her so full of natural dignity and admirable bearing she did not seem the daughter of an ordinary man, but rather a G.o.d.' ”
I was awed at his grasp of our favorite poet, indeed, my favorite of his books-Vita Nuova-and I wished with all desperation to reply in kind, though without revealing my soul too deeply.
”Good sir,” I finally said, ” 'you speak without the trusted counsel of reason.' ”
He was delighted at my choice of quotes.
”Now it is you who is guilty of changing Dante's words,” he said, ”and, moreover, changing his meaning.”
”Not so!” I cried. ”I simply chose a phrase, a part of a phrase. One that follows your own in chapter two.”
”And what is the rest of that phrase?” he probed, taking half a step closer. We were in dangerous proximity now.
I could hardly breathe. I closed my eyes to recall the words as they stood on the page. ” 'And though her image,' ” ” 'And though her image,' ” I recited, I recited, ” 'which remained constantly with me, was Love's a.s.surance of holding me, it was of such pure quality that never did it permit to be ruled by Love without the trusted counsel of reason.' ” ” 'which remained constantly with me, was Love's a.s.surance of holding me, it was of such pure quality that never did it permit to be ruled by Love without the trusted counsel of reason.' ” I opened my eyes, mortified that I had been the first to speak of that most poignant of emotions. I opened my eyes, mortified that I had been the first to speak of that most poignant of emotions.
”You see, you did did change the meaning,” he insisted. ”Dante was saying that in his love for Beatrice he was always blessed by reason.” His face fixed itself in a noncommittal expression. ”Though when it comes to the love change the meaning,” he insisted. ”Dante was saying that in his love for Beatrice he was always blessed by reason.” His face fixed itself in a noncommittal expression. ”Though when it comes to the love I I feel, I might not be so blessed.” feel, I might not be so blessed.”
I thought I might swoon and had to take a step backward. But with a small smile, the gentleman took one forward.
It was a bold challenge and though he had not touched me, a strong but pleasant shock reverberated through my body. I strove to remain calm.
”Who are you?” I said. ”Why do I not know you?”
”I have been in Padua. At university. Before that, I lived with my uncles in Verona for several years.” Pain flickered across his features then. ”There were many deaths in my family-all my elder brothers, and my sisters. . . .” He shook his head. ”The family business here in Florence will one day be mine.”
”I lost all my brothers, too,” I said.
Both of us looked down at our feet, yet too unfamiliar to share that black misery.
”And your name?” I did ask.
He grinned, then closed his eyes, as though trying to remember a particular line. ” 'Names follow from the things they name, as the saying goes. . . .'” ” 'Names follow from the things they name, as the saying goes. . . .'” He hesitated and I jumped in, so we spoke together in unison, from chapter thirteen: He hesitated and I jumped in, so we spoke together in unison, from chapter thirteen: ” 'Names are the consequences of things.' ”
We both smiled, utterly pleased with ourselves.
”So I am the consequence of my father's and mother's 'thing'?” I asked.
His laugh was bawdy this time. ”I imagine your father would not approve of your speaking of his 'thing.' ”
”Come, tell me your name,” I begged.
”Romeo,” he said. ”And yours?”
”Juliet.”
”Ju-li-et. It lies gently on the tongue.”
”And your family's name?”
He spun suddenly on his heel and with a flourish bowed low before me.
What matter is my name if my mind has shattered in a thousand pieces and my heart, where the soul resides, has grown to the size of the sun?
My brow furrowed. ”That is not Dante. Or if it is, I cannot place it.”
He pressed his lips tightly together, then spoke. ”It is my own verse.”
”You're a poet!”
”That I would never claim.”
”Why? They were pretty words, carefully composed. I had to think a moment. They could could have been Dante's.” have been Dante's.”
”You are far too kind, Lady Juliet.” His eyes narrowed. ”Indeed, I think you mock me.”
”No, no! Romeo, I am an honest woman. There is much I cannot claim for myself. But straight talking is one that I proudly do. And when it comes to poetry, sir, I fancy myself of strong and fair opinion. And I tell you your verse was pleasant to the ear.”
He sighed happily.
”Here, listen to mine,” I said.
Am I mad to judge a man by the shape of his hand, square and strong, the way he holds my face so tender in his palm.
Warm, enchanted fingertips that magic make upon my soul, All of that, all of that, in the shape of a hand.
Romeo fixed me with a blank gaze.
”You wrote that?” wrote that?”
”I did. What's wrong with it?”
”Nothing.”