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Updated: May 26, 2025
Emilio's younger brother was deserted for a handsome youth by the woman he loved. He thrust his sword through his own heart ten minutes after he had said to his servant, 'I could of course kill my rival, but that would grieve the Diva too deeply." This mixture of dignity and banter, of haughtiness and playfulness, made Francesca at this moment the most fascinating creature in the world.
If you have formed a clear idea of this landscape, you will see in those sleeping waters the image of Emilio's love for the Duchess, and in the cascades leaping like a flock of sheep, an idea of his passion shared with la Tinti. In the midst of his torrent of love a rock stood up against which the torrent broke. The Prince, like Sisyphus, was constantly under the stone.
His whole hot nature was aroused. His spirit was up in arms. And now, almost for the first time, he drew a comparison between his age and Emilio's. Emilio was an old man. He realized it. Why had he never realized it before?
This morning, as every day for six months you felt flowers opening their scented cups under the dome of your skull that had expanded to vast proportions. All your blood moved to your swelling heart that rose to choke your throat. There, in there," and he laid his hand on Emilio's breast, "you felt rapturous emotions.
In Emilio's eyes there was as it were a conflict between the saintly love of this white soul and that of the vehement and muscular Sicilian. The day was spent in long looks following on deep meditations. Each of them gauged the depths of tender feeling, and found it bottomless; a conviction that brought fond words to their lips.
At this instant the gondolier, who was leaning against a column, recognizing the man he was to look out for, murmured in Emilio's ear: "The Duchess, monseigneur." Emilio sprang into the gondola, where he was seized in a pair of soft arms an embrace of iron and dragged down on to the cushions, where he felt the heaving bosom of an ardent woman.
Fernando might have been seen to receive the letter and might have been searched on leaving the prison. But that would not account for his silence afterward. How was it that, if he knew of the letter, he had never told Emilio's family of it? There was only one explanation.
As Emilio had not taken her hand, the Duchess pushed her fingers through his hair that the singer had kissed. Then she perceived that Emilio's hand was clammy and his brow moist. "What ails you?" she asked, in a voice to which tenderness gave the sweetness of a flute. "Never till this moment have I known how much I love you," he replied. "Well, dear idol, what would you have?" said she.
Emilio's face was waxen, with staring eyes reflecting unspeakable horror, as he took the leap into the River of Night. But he went mutely, with no outcry. Bristol, sheathed in imperturbable British aplomb, remarked: "Well, so long, boys! This is jolly beastly, eh? But we'll meet on that beautiful shore!" Then he, too, jumped into the black.
Do you know, she had a presentiment of it? When we heard of the Duke's flight her first word was: 'Now we may find Emilio's letter. At heart she was always sure that he had written I suppose some blessed instinct told her so." She dropped her face on her hands, and I saw her tears fall on the wretched letter. In a moment she looked up again, with eyes that blessed and trusted me.
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