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Updated: June 20, 2025
But Olimpia slept long where she fell, and next morning decided to garner her rage. "Amor che a null' amato amar perdona." Bellaroba, who pleased the Countess, for the same reasons, no doubt, did not please the Count. It is possible to be too demure, and very little good to have domestic charm if you shut the door upon the amateur.
For I must go." "Oh, Angioletto," cried Bellaroba, trembling and catching at his breast, "won't you can't you ruin me too? Then we shall be happy again." He pressed her to his heart. "Dearest dear," he said, half laughing, half sobbing, "you are quite ruined enough. Stay as you are. I will see you every night What! By the Mass, are you not my wife?" "Of course I am, Angioletto.
Though it is a higher flight than the Schifanoia chimney, it is quicker done. Trust me, Bellaroba; you know I have never failed you yet." He could say no more, but took her in his arms and held her there, speechless as he was with inspiration. She, seeming to burn in the fire that consumed him, lay quite still, neither sobbing any more, nor shivering. So they clung together for a little.
"Well, my child, I hope you are satisfied with this little day's work," said Olimpia, half undressed. For answer, Bellaroba, upon her friend's neck, dissolved in a flood of happy tears. That was a fair sight which greeted the travellers at the close of the next day the towers of Ferrara rising stately out of a green thicket.
"Love in Ferrara," said Angioletto, and stroked Bellaroba's hair. So everything was very friendly and full of hope. At a late hour, and for excellent reasons, Olimpia kissed Bellaroba good-night, was herself kissed by Angioletto, and withdrew. Captain Mosca prayed vehemently for further and better acquaintance with his friend "the divine poet," and his pretty mistress.
Homing to his nest in the Borgo, he caught his little Bellaroba in his arms with a rapture none the less because it had been earned at a stretch. It was long before he could find time and breath to lead her into the garden and have the story out. Olimpia, coming down to look for them in the dusk, found that a seat for two would easily hold one more.
Bellaroba cowered by the wall; pursued and pursuer brushed against her in turn. She shivered and moaned a little at every touch; but they were too intent upon their game to know that she was there. In the second round, Mosca, who was again close to her, reached out his hand for a knife from the table.
"I shall never forget you, my Captain," said the really grateful Olimpia; and said truer than she knew. "Come," she added, "we should seek out Bellaroba and her little sweetheart. There must be an end of that pretty gentleman, my friend." "By the majesty of King Solomon, there shall be an end," Mosca swore, and pricked his horse.
Coming out of the church into the sun again, they encountered the scrutiny of Olimpia. Captain Mosca, slapping his booted leg, was holding the horse. "Where have you two children been?" said Olimpia. "Mischief in a corner, eh? You have missed the sight of Duke Borso and a gilded company." "We have been saying our prayers to Madonna of the Greeks," said Bellaroba meekly.
"Ah, my dear soul," he said, sighing, "could you think it of old Mosca?" Bellaroba hastened to disclaim. "No, no, no, I did not think it, Signor Capitano. But for a minute I had a little fear. Olimpia never loved Angioletto at all, and I don't think she loves me very much now." "To be plain with you, my lamb," said the Mosca, "she has no such vasty love for me.
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