It was evening. Multitudes of light clouds, partially illumined by
the moonbeams, overspread the horizon, and through them floated the
full moon in tranquil majesty, while her splendour was reflected by
every wave of the Adriatic Sea. All was hushed around; gently was
the water rippled by the night wind; gently did the night wind sigh
through the Colonnades of Venice.
It was midnight; and still sat a stranger, solitary and sad, on the
border of the great canal. Now with a glance he measured the
battlements and proud towers of the city; and now he fixed his
melancholy eyes upon the waters with a vacant stare. At length he
spoke "Wretch that I am, whither shall I go? Here sit I in Venice, and
what would it avail to wander further? What will become of me? All
now slumber, save myself! the Doge rests on his couch of down; the
beggar's head presses his straw pillow; but for ME there is no bed
except the cold, damp earth! There is no gondolier so wretched but
he knows where to find work by day and shelter by night--while I--
while I--Oh! dreadful is the destiny of which I am made the
sport!"
He began to examine for the twentieth time the pockets of his
tattered garments.
"No! not one paolo, by heavens!--and I hunger almost to death."
He unsheathed his sword; he waved it in the moonshine, and sighed,
as he marked the glittering of the steel.
"No, no, my old true companion, thou and I must never part. Mine
thou shalt remain, though I starve for it. Oh, was not that a
golden time when Valeria gave thee to me, and when she threw the
belt over my shoulder, I kissed thee and Valeria? She has deserted
us for another world, but thou and I will never part in this."
He wiped away a drop which hung upon his eyelid.
"Pshaw! 'twas not a tear; the night wind is sharp and bitter, and
makes the eyes water; but as for TEARS--Absurd! my weeping days are
over."
And as he spoke, the unfortunate (for such by his discourse and
situation he appeared to be) dashed his forehead against the earth,
and his lips were already unclosed to curse the hour which gave him
being, when he seemed suddenly to recollect himself. He rested his
head on his elbow, and sang mournfully the burthen of a song which
had often delighted his childhood in the castle of his ancestors.
"Right," he said to himself; "were I to sink under the weight of my
destiny, I should be myself no longer."