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Updated: September 1, 2025
She arrived at the fountain, and instantly drew back, covered with blushes, for on the bank of moss, shaded by the protecting canopy, whose waving blossoms were reflected on the fountain, Flodoardo was seated, and fixed his eyes on a roll of parchment. Rosabella hesitated whether she should retire or stay.
Andreas withdrew himself gently from Rosabella's arm, and for some time paced the apartment slowly, with a countenance sad and earnest. Rosabella sank upon a sofa which stood near her, and wept. Flodoardo eyed the Doge, and waited for his decision with impatience. Thus passed some minutes.
Floracita may have learned it from her mother, who was half French, half Spanish. You doubtless observed the foreign sprinkling in their talk. They told me they never spoke English with their mother. Those who have seen her describe her as a wonderful creature, who danced like Taglioni and sang like Malibran, and was more beautiful than her daughter Rosabella.
But, by Heaven, I am confident that the great Andreas means not to bestow his Rosabella on one of those whose claims to favour are overflowing coffers, extensive territories, and sounding titles, or who vainly decorate their insignificance with the glory obtained by the titles of their ancestors, glory of which they are themselves incapable of acquiring a single ray.
He was more and more absent from the cottage, and made few professions of regret for such frequent separations. Some weeks after Flora's disappearance, he announced his intention to travel in the North during the summer months. Rosabella looked up in his face with a pleading expression, but pride prevented her from asking whether she might accompany him.
Shall it be in vain that I delivered Abellino into your power? Andreas. It was to the brave Flodoardo that I promised Rosabella. I never entered into any engagement with the murderer Abellino. Let Flodoardo claim my niece, and she is his; but Abellino can have no claim to her. Again I say lay down your arms. The murderer Abellino, say you? Ho! ho!
"To be sure it will, dear," responded Madame, who had entered softly and stood listening to the last strains. "Ah, if all would hear with your partial ears!" replied Rosabella, with a glimmering smile. "But they will not. And I may be so frightened that I shall lose my voice." "What have you to be afraid of, darling?" rejoined Madame.
This led to talk about old times, and to the singing of various airs associated with those times. When they retired to rest, Flora fell asleep with those tunes marching and dancing through her brain; and, for the first time during many years, she dreamed of playing them to her father, while Rosabella sang.
"Lady, fear nothing; I protect you." This said, Abellino placed a whistle at his lips, and blew it shrilly. Instantly sprang Matteo from his concealment in a neighbouring clump of trees, and rushed into the arbour. Abellino threw Rosabella on the bank of turf, advanced a few steps to meet Matteo, and plunged his dagger in his heart.
Now, if the bird-boy was the prettiest little boy in all the world, Rosabella was the prettiest little girl. Moreover, she had a sweet disposition, which is a gift even more precious than the gift of beauty.
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