CHAPTER 3.XV.
Oime! come poss' io
Altri trovar, se me trovar non posso.
"Amint.," At. i. Sc. ii.
(Alas! how can I find another when I cannot find myself?)
The sleep of Glyndon, the night after his last interview with
Zanoni, was unusually profound; and the sun streamed full upon
his eyes as he opened them to the day. He rose refreshed, and
with a strange sentiment of calmness that seemed more the result
of resolution than exhaustion. The incidents and emotions of the
past night had settled into distinct and clear impressions. He
thought of them but slightly,--he thought rather of the future.
He was as one of the initiated in the old Egyptian mysteries who
have crossed the gate only to long more ardently for the
penetralia.
He dressed himself, and was relieved to find that Mervale had
joined a party of his countrymen on an excursion to Ischia. He
spent the heat of noon in thoughtful solitude, and gradually the
image of Viola returned to his heart. It was a holy--for it was
a HUMAN--image. He had resigned her; and though he repented not,
he was troubled at the thought that repentance would have come
too late.
He started impatiently from his seat, and strode with rapid steps
to the humble abode of the actress.
The distance was considerable, and the air oppressive. Glyndon
arrived at the door breathless and heated. He knocked; no answer
came. He lifted the latch and entered. He ascended the stairs;
no sound, no sight of life met his ear and eye. In the front
chamber, on a table, lay the guitar of the actress, and some
manuscript parts in the favourite operas. He paused, and,
summoning courage, tapped at the door which seemed to lead into
the inner apartment. The door was ajar; and, hearing no sound
within, he pushed it open. It was the sleeping-chamber of the
young actress, that holiest ground to a lover; and well did the
place become the presiding deity: none of the tawdry finery of
the profession was visible, on the one hand; none of the slovenly
disorder common to the humbler classes of the South, on the
other. All was pure and simple; even the ornaments were those of
an innocent refinement,--a few books, placed carefully on
shelves, a few half-faded flowers in an earthen vase, which was
modelled and painted in the Etruscan fashion. The sunlight
streamed over the snowy draperies of the bed, and a few articles
of clothing on the chair beside it. Viola was not there; but the
nurse!--was she gone also? He made the house resound with the
name of Gionetta, but there was not even an echo to reply. At
last, as he reluctantly quitted the desolate abode, he perceived
Gionetta coming towards him from the street.
The poor old woman uttered an exclamation of joy on seeing him;
but, to their mutual disappointment, neither had any cheerful
tidings or satisfactory explanation to afford the other.
Gionetta had been aroused from her slumber the night before by
the noise in the rooms below; but ere she could muster courage to
descend, Viola was gone! She found the marks of violence on the
door without; and all she had since been able to learn in the
neighbourhood was, that a Lazzarone, from his nocturnal resting-
place on the Chiaja, had seen by the moonlight a carriage, which
he recognised as belonging to the Prince di --, pass and repass
that road about the first hour of morning. Glyndon, on gathering
from the confused words and broken sobs of the old nurse the
heads of this account, abruptly left her, and repaired to the
palace of Zanoni. There he was informed that the signor was gone
to the banquet of the Prince di --, and would not return till
late. Glyndon stood motionless with perplexity and dismay; he
knew not what to believe, or how to act. Even Mervale was not at
hand to advise him. His conscience smote him bitterly. He had
had the power to save the woman he had loved, and had foregone
that power; but how was it that in this Zanoni himself had
failed? How was it that he was gone to the very banquet of the
ravisher? Could Zanoni be aware of what had passed? If not,
should he lose a moment in apprising him? Though mentally
irresolute, no man was more physically brave. He would repair at
once to the palace of the prince himself; and if Zanoni failed in
the trust he had half-appeared to arrogate, he, the humble
foreigner, would demand the captive of fraud and force, in the
very halls and before the assembled guests of the Prince di --.
