the aspern papers-第21部分

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stopped　long　enough　for　me　to　give　some　sign　which　I　did　not　give。

She　must　have　been　conscious；　however；　that　though　my　face　showed

the　greatest　embarrassment　that　was　ever　painted　on　a　human　countenance

it　was　not　set　as　a　stone；　it　was　also　full　of　compassion。

It　was　a　comfort　to　me　a　long　time　afterward　to　consider　that　she

could　not　have　seen　in　me　the　smallest　symptom　of　disrespect。

〃I　don't　know　what　to　do；　I'm　too　tormented；　I'm　too　ashamed！〃

she　continued　with　vehemence。　　Then　turning　away　from　me　and　burying

her　face　in　her　hands　she　burst　into　a　flood　of　tears。　　If　she　did

not　know　what　to　do　it　may　be　imagined　whether　I　did　any　better。

I　stood　there　dumb；　watching　her　while　her　sobs　resounded　in　the　great

empty　hall。　　In　a　moment　she　was　facing　me　again；　with　her　streaming　eyes。

〃I　would　give　you　everythingand　she　would　understand；　where　she　is

she　would　forgive　me！〃



〃Ah；　Miss　Titaah；　Miss　Tita；〃　I　stammered；　for　all　reply。

I　did　not　know　what　to　do；　as　I　say；　but　at　a　venture　I　made　a　wild；

vague　movement　in　consequence　of　which　I　found　myself　at　the　door。

I　remember　standing　there　and　saying；　〃It　wouldn't　doit　wouldn't　do！〃

pensively；　awkwardly；　grotesquely；　while　I　looked　away　to　the　opposite

end　of　the　sala　as　if　there　were　a　beautiful　view　there。

The　next　thing　I　remember　is　that　I　was　downstairs　and　out　of　the　house。

My　gondola　was　there　and　my　gondolier；　reclining　on　the　cushions；

sprang　up　as　soon　as　he　saw　me。　　I　jumped　in　and　to　his　usual

〃Dove　commanda？〃　I　replied；　in　a　tone　that　made　him　stare；

〃Anywhere；　anywhere；　out　into　the　lagoon！〃



He　rowed　me　away　and　I　sat　there　prostrate；　groaning　softly

to　myself；　with　my　hat　pulled　over　my　face。　　What　in　the　name

of　the　preposterous　did　she　mean　if　she　did　not　mean　to　offer　me

her　hand？　　That　was　the　pricethat　was　the　price！　　And　did　she

think　I　wanted　it；　poor　deluded；　infatuated；　extravagant　lady？

My　gondolier；　behind　me；　must　have　seen　my　ears　red　as　I　wondered；

sitting　there　under　the　fluttering　tenda；　with　my

hidden　face；　noticing　nothing　as　we　passedwondered　whether

her　delusion；　her　infatuation　had　been　my　own　reckless　work。

Did　she　think　I　had　made　love　to　her；　even　to　get　the　papers？

I　had　not；　I　had　not；　I　repeated　that　over　to　myself　for　an　hour；

for　two　hours；　till　I　was　wearied　if　not　convinced。

I　don't　know　where　my　gondolier　took　me；　we　floated　aimlessly

about　in　the　lagoon；　with　slow；　rare　strokes。　　At　last　I　became

conscious　that　we　were　near　the　Lido；　far　up；　on　the　right　hand；

as　you　turn　your　back　to　Venice；　and　I　made　him　put　me　ashore。

I　wanted　to　walk；　to　move；　to　shed　some　of　my　bewilderment。

I　crossed　the　narrow　strip　and　got　to　the　sea　beachI　took　my

way　toward　Malamocco。　　But　presently　I　flung　myself　down　again

on　the　warm　sand；　in　the　breeze；　on　the　coarse　dry　grass。

It　took　it　out　of　me　to　think　I　had　been　so　much　at　fault；

that　I　had　unwittingly　but　nonetheless　deplorably　trifled。

But　I　had　not　given　her　causedistinctly　I　had　not。

I　had　said　to　Mrs。　Prest　that　I　would　make　love　to　her；

but　it　had　been　a　joke　without　consequences　and　I　had　never

said　it　to　Tita　Bordereau。　　I　had　been　as　kind　as　possible；

because　I　really　liked　her；　but　since　when　had　that　become　a　crime

where　a　woman　of　such　an　age　and　such　an　appearance　was　concerned？

I　am　far　from　remembering　clearly　the　succession　of　events　and

feelings　during　this　long　day　of　confusion；　which　I　spent　entirely

in　wandering　about；　without　going　home；　until　late　at　night；

it　only　comes　back　to　me　that　there　were　moments　when　I

pacified　my　conscience　and　others　when　I　lashed　it　into　pain。

I　did　not　laugh　all　daythat　I　do　recollect；　the　case；　however　it

might　have　struck　others；　seemed　to　me　so　little　amusing。

It　would　have　been　better　perhaps　for　me　to　feel　the　comic

side　of　it。　　At　any　rate；　whether　I　had　given　cause　or　not

it　went　without　saying　that　I　could　not　pay　the　price。

I　could　not　accept。　　I　could　not；　for　a　bundle　of　tattered　papers；

marry　a　ridiculous；　pathetic；　provincial　old　woman。

it　was　a　proof　that　she　did　not　think　the　idea　would　come　to　me；

her　having　determined　to　suggest　it　herself　in　that　practical；

argumentative；　heroic　way；　in　which　the　timidity　however　had

been　so　much　more　striking　than　the　boldness　that　her　reasons

appeared　to　come　first　and　her　feelings　afterward。



As　the　day　went　on　I　grew　to　wish　that　I　had　never

heard　of　Aspern's　relics；　and　I　cursed　the　extravagant

curiosity　that　had　put　John　Cumnor　on　the　scent　of　them。

We　had　more　than　enough　material　without　them；　and　my

predicament　was　the　just　punishment　of　that　most　fatal

of　human　follies；　our　not　having　known　when　to　stop。

It　was　very　well　to　say　it　was　no　predicament；　that　the　way

out　was　simple；　that　I　had　only　to　leave　Venice　by　the　first

train　in　the　morning；　after　writing　a　note　to　Miss　Tita；

to　be　placed　in　her　hand　as　soon　as　I　got　clear　of　the　house；

for　it　was　a　strong　sign　that　I　was　embarrassed　that　when　I

tried　to　make　up　the　note　in　my　mind　in　advance　（I　would　put　it

on　paper　as　soon　as　I　got　home；　before　going　to　bed）；　I　could

not　think　of　anything　but　〃How　can　I　thank　you　for　the　rare

confidence　you　have　placed　in　me？〃　　That　would　never　do；

it　sounded　exactly　as　if　an　acceptance　were　to　follow。

Of　course　I　might　go　away　without　writing　a　word；　but　that　would

be　brutal　and　my　idea　was　still　to　exclude　brutal　solutions。

As　my　confusion　cooled　I　was　lost　in　wonder　at　the　importance　I

had　attached　to　Miss　Bordereau's　crumpled　scraps；　the　thought

of　them　became　odious　to　me；　and　I　was　as　vexed　with　the　old

witch　for　the　superstition　that　had　prevented　her　from　destroying

them　as　I　was　with　myself　for　having　already　spent　more　money

than　I　could　afford　in　attempting　to　control　their　fate。

I　forget　what　I　did；　where　I　went　after　leaving　the　Lido

and　at　what　hour　or　with　what　recovery　of　composure　I　made

my　way　back　to　my　boat。　　I　only　know　that　in　the　afternoon；

when　the　air　was　aglow　with　the　sunset；　I　was　standing

before　the　church　of　Saints　John　and　Paul　and　looking　up

at　the　small　square…jawed　face　of　Bartolommeo　Colleoni；

the　terrible　condottiere　who　sits　so　sturdily　astride

of　his　huge　bronze　horse；　on　the　high　pedestal　on　which

Venetian　gratitude　maintains　him。　　The　statue　is　incomparable；

the　finest　of　all　mounted　figures；　unless　that　of　Marcus　Aurelius；

who　rides　benignant　before　the　Roman　Capitol；　be　finer：

but　I　was　not　thinking　of　that；　I　only　found　myself　staring

at　the　triumphant　captain　as　if　he　had　an　oracle　on　his　lips。

The　western　light　shines　into　all　his　grimness　at　that　hour

and　makes　it　wonderfully　personal。　　But　he　continued　to　look

far　over　my　head；　at　the　red　immersion　of　another　day

he　had　seen　so　many　go　down　into　the　lagoon　through　the　centuries

and　if　he　were　thinking　of　battles　and　stratagems　they

were　of　a　different　quality　from　any　I　had　to　tell　him　of。

He　could　not　direct　me　what　to　do；　gaze　up　at　him　as　I　might。

Was　it　before　this　or　after　that　I　wandered　about　for　an　hour

in　the　small　canals；　to　the　continued　stupefaction　of　my　gondolier；

who　had　never　seen　me　so　restless　and　yet　so　void　of　a　purpose　and

could　extract　from　me　no　order　but　〃Go　anywhereeverywhereall　over

the　place〃？　　He　reminded　me　that　I　had　not　lunched　and　expressed

therefore　respectfully　the　hope　that　I　would　dine　earlier。

He　had　had　long　periods　of　leisure　during　the　day；　when　I　had　left

the　boat　and　rambled；　so　that　I　was　not　obliged　to　consider　him；

and　I　told　him　that　that　day；　for　a　change；　I　would　touch

no　meat。　　It　was　an　effect　of　poor　Miss　Tita's　proposal；

not　altogether　auspicious；　that　I　had　quite　lost　my　appetite。

I　don't　know　why　it　happened　that　on　this　occasion　I　was　more　than

ever　struck　with　that　queer　air　of　sociability；　of　cousinship

and　family　life；　which　makes　up　half　the　expression　of　Venice。

Without　streets　and　vehicles；　the　uproar　of　wheels；　the　brutality

of　horses；　and　with　its　little　winding　ways　where　people

crowd　together；　where　voices　sound　as　in　the　corridors　of　a　house；

where　the　human　step　circulates　as　if　it　skirted　the　angles

of　furniture　and　shoes　never　wear　out；　the　place　has　the　character

of　an　immense　collective　apartment；　in　which　Piazza　San　Marco

is　the　most　ornamented　corner　and　palaces　and　churches；

for　the　rest；　play　the　part　of　great　divans　of　repose；

tables　of　entertainment；　expanses　of　decoration。　　And　somehow

the　splendid　common　domicile；　familiar；　domestic；　and　resonant；

also　resembles　a　theater；　with　actors　clicking　over　bridges　and；

in　straggling　processions；　tripping　along　fondamentas。　　As

you　sit　in　your　gondola　the　footways　that　in　certain　parts　edge

the　canals　assume　to　the　eye　the　importance　of　a　stage；　meeting　it

at　the　same　angle；　and　the　Venetian　figures；　moving　to　and　fro

against　the　battered　scenery　of　their　little　houses　of　comedy；

strike　you　as　members　of　an　endless　dramatic　troupe。



I　went　to　bed　that　night　very　tired；　without　being　able　to　compose

a　letter　to　Miss　Tita。　　Was　this　failure　the　reason　why　I　became

conscious　the　next　morning　as　soon　as　I　awoke　of　a　determination

to　see　the　poor　lady　again　the　first　moment　she　would　receive　me？

That　had　something　to　do　with　it；　but　what　had　still　more　was　the　fact

that　during　my　sleep　a　very　odd　revulsion　had　taken　place　in　my　spirit。

I　found　myself　aware　of　this　almost　as　soon　as　I　opened　my　eyes；

it　made　me　jump　out　of　my　bed　with　the　movement　of　a　man　who　remembers

that　he　has　left　the　house　door　ajar　or　a　candle　burning　under　a　shelf。

Was　I　still　in　time　to　save　my　goods？　　That　question　was　in　my　heart；

for　what　had　now　come　to　pass　was　that　in　the　unconscious　cerebration

of　sleep　I　had　swung　back　to　a　passionate　appreciation　of　Miss

Bordereau's　papers。　　They　were　now　more　precious　than　ever；

and　a　kind　of　ferocity　had　come　into　my　desire　to　possess　them。

The　condition　Miss　Tita　had　attached　to　the　posse