Chapter 14 - Page 2

the
monk; "to admire the beauties of nature, is to worship Him who gave them
being."

At that moment a burst of music rose on the air, proceeding from the
water beneath the balcony. Donna Violetta started back, abashed; and as
she held her breath in wonder, and haply with that delight which open
admiration is apt to excite in a youthful female bosom, the color
mounted to her temples.

"There passeth a band," calmly observed the Donna Florinda.

"No, it is a cavalier! There are gondoliers, servitors in his colors."

"This is as hardy as it may be gallant," returned the monk, who
listened to the air with an evident and grave displeasure.

There was no longer any doubt but that a serenade was meant. Though the
custom was of much use, it was the first time that a similar honor had
been paid beneath the window of Donna Violetta. The studied privacy of
her life, her known destiny, and the jealousy of the despotic state, and
perhaps the deep respect which encircled a maiden of her tender years
and high condition, had, until that moment, kept the aspiring, the vain,
and the interested, equally in awe.

"It is for me!" whispered the trembling, the distressed, the delighted
Violetta.

"It is for one of us, indeed," answered the cautious friend.

"Be it for whom it may, it is bold," rejoined the monk.

Donna Violetta shrank from observation behind the drapery of the window,
but she raised a hand in pleasure as the rich strains rolled through the
wide apartments.

"What a taste rules the band!" she half-whispered, afraid to trust her
voice lest a sound should escape her ears. "They touch an air of
Petrarch's sonatas! How indiscreet, and yet how noble!"

"More noble than wise," said the Donna Florinda, who entered the balcony
and looked intently on the water beneath.

"Here are musicians in the color of a noble in one gondola," she
continued, "and a single cavalier in another."

"Hath he no servitor? Doth he ply the oar himself?"

"Truly that decency hath not been overlooked; one in a flowered jacket
guides the boat."

"Speak, then, dearest Florinda, I pray thee."

"Would it be seemly?"

"Indeed I think it. Speak them fair. Say that I am the Senate's--that it
is not discreet to urge a daughter of the state thus--say what thou
wilt--but speak them fair."

"Ha! it is Don Camillo Monforte! I know him by his noble stature and
the gallant wave of his hand."

"This temerity will undo him! His claim will be refused--himself
banished. Is it not near the