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Vendetta-Part10_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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"God bless them!" said Vergniaud, the sergeant, to the mason, when



they reached the church porch. "No two creatures were ever more fitted

for one another. The parents of the girl are foolish. I don't know a



braver soldier than Colonel Luigi. If the whole army had behaved like

him, 'l'autre' would be here still."



This blessing of the old soldier, the only one bestowed upon their

marriage-day, shed a balm on Ginevra's heart.



They parted with hearty shakings of hand; Luigi thanked his landlord.

"Adieu, 'mon brave,'" he said to the sergeant. "I thank you."



"I am now and ever at your service, colonel,--soul, body, horses, and

carriages; all that is mine is yours."



"How he loves you!" said Ginevra.

Luigi now hurried his bride to the house they were to occupy. Their



modest apartment was soon reached; and there, when the door closed

upon them, Luigi took his wife in his arms, exclaiming,--



"Oh, my Ginevra! for now you are mine, here is our true wedding.

Here," he added, "all things will smile upon us."



Together they went through the three rooms contained in their lodging.

The room first entered served as salon and dining-room in one; on the



right was a bedchamber, on the left a large study which Luigi had

arranged for his wife; in it she found easels, color-boxes, lay-



figures, casts, pictures, portfolios,--in short, the paraphernalia of

an artist.



"So here I am to work!" she said, with an expression of childlike

happiness.



She looked long at the hangings and the furniture, turning again and

again to thank Luigi, for there was something that approached



magnificence in the little retreat. A bookcase contained her favorite

books; a piano filled an angle of the room. She sat down upon a divan,



drew Luigi to her side, and said, in a caressing voice, her hand in

his,--



"You have good taste."

"Those words make me happy," he replied.



"But let me see all," said Ginevra, to whom Luigi had made a mystery

of the adornment of the rooms.



They entered the nuptialchamber, fresh and white as a virgin.

"Oh! come away," said Luigi, smiling.



"But I wish to see all."

And the imperious Ginevra looked at each piece of furniture with the



minute care of an antiquary examining a coin; she touched the silken

hangings, and went over every article with the artless satisfaction of



a bride in the treasures of her wedding outfit.

"We begin by ruining ourselves," she said, in a half-joyous, half-



anxious tone.

"True! for all my back pay is there," replied Luigi. "I have mortgaged



it to a worthy fellow named Gigonnet."

"Why did you do so?" she said, in a tone of reproach, through which



could be heard her inwardsatisfaction. "Do you believe I should be

less happy in a garret? But," she added, "it is all charming, and--it



is ours!"

Luigi looked at her with such enthusiasm that she lowered her eyes.



"Now let us see the rest," she cried.

Above these three rooms, under the roof, was a study for Luigi, a



kitchen, and a servant's-room. Ginevra was much pleased with her

little domain, although the view from the windows was limited by the



high wall of a neighboring house, and the court-yard, from which their

light was derived, was gloomy. But the two lovers were so happy in



heart, hope so adorned their future, that they chose to see nothing

but what was charming in their hidden nest. They were there in that



vast house, lost in the immensity of Paris, like two pearls in their

shell in the depths of ocean; to all others it might have seemed a



prison; to them it was paradise.

The first few days of their union were given to love. The effort to



turn at once to work was too difficult; they could not resist the

charm of their own passion. Luigi lay for hours at the feet of his



wife, admiring the color of her hair, the moulding of her forehead,

the enchanting socket of her eyes, the purity and whiteness of the two



arches beneath which the eyes themselves turned slowly, expressing the

happiness of a satisfied love. Ginevra caressed the hair of her Luigi,



never weary of gazing at what she called his "belta folgorante," and




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