Part 108 (1/2)

”The little impostor! Duck him!”

”What for, signors?” cried Andrea, in dismay, and lost his rich carnation.

But the females collected round him, and vowed n.o.body should harm a hair of his head.

”The dear child! How well his pretty little saucy ways become him.”

”Oh, what eyes! and teeth!”

”And what eyebrows and hair!”

”And what lashes!”

”And what a nose!”

”The sweetest little ear in the world!”

”And what health! Touch but his cheek with a pin the blood should squirt.”

”Who would be so cruel?”

”He is a rosebud washed in dew.”

And they revenged themselves for their beaux' admiration of her by lavis.h.i.+ng all their tenderness on him.

But one there was who was still among these b.u.t.terflies but no longer of them.

The sight of the Princess Claelia had torn open his wound.

Scarce three months ago he had declined the love of that peerless creature; a love illicit and insane; but at least refined. How much lower had he fallen now.

How happy he must have been, when the blandishments of Claelia, that might have melted an anchorite, could not tempt him from the path of loyalty!

Now what was he? He had blushed at her seeing him in such company. Yet it was his daily company.

He hung over the boat in moody silence.

And from that hour another phase of his misery began; and grew upon him.

Some wretched fools try to drown care in drink.

The fumes of intoxication vanish; the inevitable care remains, and must be faced at last--with an aching head, a disordered stomach, and spirits artificially depressed.

Gerard's conduct had been of a piece with these maniacs'. To survive his terrible blow he needed all his forces; his virtue, his health, his habits of labour, and the calm sleep that is labour's satellite; above all, his piety.

Yet all these balms to wounded hearts he flung away, and trusted to moral intoxication.