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Updated: May 14, 2025
Ah, when one is grown old, and conversing with an Andreas, it is easy to forget everything else. My lord, I sought you with a request, a request, too, of consequence. Andreas. You excite my curiosity. Lomellino. About a week ago there arrived here a young Florentine nobleman called Flodoardo, a youth of noble appearance and great promise. Andreas. Well? Lomellino.
How handsome looked Flodoardo, as, lighter than air, he flew down the dance, while his brilliant eyes saw no object but Rosabella. He was still without his mask, and bareheaded: but every eye glanced away from the helmets and barettes, waving with plumes, and sparkling with jewels, to gaze on Flodoardo's raven locks, as they floated on the air in wild luxuriance.
Never did he scruple, in the cause of virtue, to endure fatigue and pain, and to dry up the tears of suffering innocence that was Flodoardo's proudest triumph! Flodoardo and thou ! Wretch, whom many a bleeding ghost has long since accused before the throne of heaven, darest thou to profane the name of Flodoardo!" Rosabella, wilt thou forsake me? Wilt thou retract thy promise?
An awful silence reigned through the chamber; Andreas seemed to be labouring with some resolution of dreadful importance. The lovers wished, yet dreaded, the conclusion of the scene, and with every moment their anxiety became more painful. "Flodoardo!" at length said the Doge, and suddenly stood still in the middle of the chamber. Flodoardo advanced with a respectful air.
Your claims on the Republic's gratitude are as yet but trifling; an opportunity now offers of rendering as an essential service. The murderer of Conari, Manfrone, and Lomellino go, bring him hither! Alive or dead, thou must bring to this palace the terrible banditti-king, ABELLINO!" At this unexpected conclusion of a speech on which his happiness or despair depended, Flodoardo started back.
I know well, Flodoardo, how much I ask; but I know also how much I proffer. You seem irresolute? You are silent? Flodoardo, I have long watched you with attention. I have discovered in you marks of a superior genius, and therefore I am induced to make such a demand. If any one is able to cope with Abellino, thou art the man. I wait your answer." Flodoardo paced the chamber in silence.
Well, one thing at least even envy must confess; Flodoardo is the handsomest man in Venice. I doubt whether there's a woman in the city who can resist him. Parozzi. And I should doubt it too, if women had as little sense as you have, and looked only at the shell without minding the kernel Memmo. Which unluckily is exactly the thing which women always do Falieri.
It is now a full hour beyond his time. The Senator Vitalba. Let him only produce him at last, and he may be a month beyond his time if he choose. Andreas. Hark! No. Silence! silence! Surely I hear footsteps approaching the saloon. The words were scarcely spoken when the folding doors were thrown open, and Flodoardo rushed into the room enveloped in his mantle.
Rosabella, the idol of all Venice, lay on the bed of sickness; a sorrow, whose cause was carefully concealed from every one, undermined her health, and destroyed the bloom of her beauty. She loved the noble Flodoardo; and who could have known Flodoardo and not have loved him?
Everybody had seen him somewhere; but, unluckily, nobody could tell where he was to be seen again. I informed my readers, in the beginning of the last chapter, that Flodoardo was become melancholy, and that Rosabella was indisposed, but I did not tell them what had occasioned this sudden change.
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